by Joan Grant
When Zertar was ready, I let go of Natee’s collar, and he ran on ahead, sometimes looking back to make sure that we were following. The runners were swift and in less than an hour we had left the cultivation and were among the waves of sand on the north border of the marsh where there are vast stretches of high reeds.
We found Zeb lying at the edge of them. At first I thought he was dead; but when Natee who had run ahead of us, started licking him, he stirred. Zeb had been bitten in the left ankle, and he had lashed the wound deeply with his knife. It had bled a lot, but not enough, for his leg was swollen and turning black.
Zertar told me to try and make him drink some cane-spirit. While I was doing this he took the smaoo and made a small cut in its leg, letting its blood drip into a little cup, which didn’t seem to hurt, for it licked his hand while he was doing it. Zertar told one of the litter-runners to bind its leg, and then he made two little slits in Zeb’s flesh, one above the wound the snake had made, and one on the left breast, just above the heart. On these he bound two small pads of linen dipped in the blood of the smaoo; the rest of it he poured into Zeb’s mouth, who now had strength enough to swallow. Next Zertar took an evil-smelling ointment from a jar, which he smeared on the snake bite. Then, after wrapping Zeb in woollen cloaks, they lifted him on to one of the litters and set off to the palace.
I called Natee, but he would not obey. He went back towards the reeds, as if he wanted me to follow him. When he saw I wasn’t going to, he came and took my hand very gently between his teeth and tried to lead me along. So I went with him; and in the clearing, on a bed of dry sand, I saw Simma with two little cubs. She curled her lips as though to snarl at me, but Natee rumbled at her and then she let me stroke her. Her two little cubs were even smaller than Natee was when he had first slept on my bed. I took off Natee’s collar so he would know that he no longer owed allegiance to me and was free to come back to the palace or stay with Simma. When I left him he followed me to the edge of the reeds and stood watching me as I went away, before he trotted back to his own family.
The runners of my litter caught up with Zeb before he reached the palace. He was put in one of the rooms near to where Zertar worked; for all in the palace who were ill Zertar would try to heal, with knife or herb.
Ptah-kefer came and looked at Zeb, and he said he could not tell for another day if he would live. His lips were a better colour, but he was still quiet and cold, and did not answer when I spoke to him.
So I left him; and I walked through the gardens, feeling very sad, for I loved my faithful servant and grieved to think that he might die, and Natee had left me for a better companion. I decided to go to the temple and pray for Zeb. So I picked some lilies, striped white and scarlet, to take with me, and I sent for my litter.
There was no one in the temple forecourt, for the sun was high and it was the time when people rested in the shade. I went to the Sanctuary of Ptah and put my flowers on the white steps of his statue. Standing before him with my hands upstretched, though I said no words aloud, I called so hard to Ptah to hear me that on his throne of stars he must have heard my voice. I told him about the snake, and asked him from his bounty of life to give some more to Zeb, and to let him stay with me. Then I knelt and touched his foot with my forehead, for love of him and in humility.
As I left the cool shade of the sanctuary, the sunlight in the outer court seemed solid as a golden wall. A young priest was walking across the courtyard; I knew by his robe he was a high-priest of Anubis. I had seen him in the temple before, and had heard that he had passed his initiation very young, when only twenty-three. His name was Ney-sey-ra.
He came and talked to me. He spoke as if he had known me for a long time, and I felt I was talking to a friend, though one much wiser than myself. He seemed to know that I had had no food that day, for, without my saying anything, he took me into one of the private gardens and brought me some honey-cakes and figs and a cup of wine, which he said would make me feel less tired.
As I ate I talked to him; and although it was for the first time, it was as though we continued a conversation that we had started the day before. I told him about Zeb, and Natee, and Simma’s cubs; and he said that I had been wise to let Natee free, because an unwilling captive could never be a friend. But he thought Natee would return to me when the cubs were older; for he had changed his habits to my will because I understood his heart.
I asked Ney-sey-ra about the snake-cat, and why Zertar had put its blood on Zeb. And he told me, “Some men think that snake-cats take but little harm from the poison even of a cobra, and that they have a special virtue in their blood, which takes the evil from the venom. Zertar is trying to discover if a little of this blood, mingled with that of one who has been bitten, imparts some of its own quality to the poisoned one so that he can overcome the poison in his veins.”
And I told him of the ointment; and he said it was made of the fat of whatever sort of snake had given the bite, and he himself thought that both that and the blood of the snake-cat were of little value.
Then I said that I must go back to the palace and find out how Zeb was.
Ney-sey-ra smiled and said, “I can find that out for you without your moving from the bench.” And he picked up the silver bowl in which I had rinsed my fingers and held it between his hands just where a shaft of light pierced through the canopy of vines beneath which we were sitting. Then as though he were looking through a window into a room and describing what he saw, he said, “Zeb is asleep. Ptah has filled his body with new life. He will awake an hour after sunset, and then he should be given milk and wine. Then he will sleep again, and when he wakes to-morrow, all will know that he will live. In twenty days he will be well again and have but a little scar upon his leg.”
I had never seen this power of ‘looking’ used before, yet it did not seem strange to me. Without speaking, Ney-sey-ra got up and plucked a lotus growing in the pool, and then he said, “Do you remember?”
And I remembered that I had dreamed of this the night before. And in my dream he had shown me an open lotus like the one he now held in his hand, and he had told me that just as a lotus opens its petals until its golden heart reflects the brilliance of the sun, so must I open the gateway of my memory until on Earth I could reflect the Light. Then in my dream he had pointed to a half-opened bud, which though it showed its blue petals, still had them folded round its heart; and this, he had told me, was a symbol of what I was now.
The memory of my dream had come back to me in less time than it takes a bird to move its wing, and I went and plucked a lotus that showed its blue, and said, “This is what I am”, and pointing to the flower that he held, “That is what I long to be.”
And then he smiled and said, “I am a high-priest and you shall be a queen; but what is more pleasing to my heart is that I can teach you all you wish to know. Much have I taught your spirit while you have slept; soon I shall also teach you here on Earth.”
Before I left him, he told me that henceforward I should say this prayer before I slept:
“Master, of thy wisdom, teach me to be a flame for the benighted ones, so that I may warm their hearts and light their darkness, until of their own knowledge they can kindle their own fire, and having kindled it can leave the darkness and dwell at last in the light of the sun.”
On the twentieth day Zeb could walk again; and three months later Natee returned to me. Simma and her cubs followed him as he led them to the lion-court gate and into his special stall, which had been kept ready for him. And my father allowed him to go with me wherever I liked, as he did when he was a cub.
CHAPTER TWO
Lion Hunt
I was ten years old, and for the first time I was going with my father upon a lion hunt. For a long time Benater had been giving me lessons with the throwing-spear, and at last Harka, Overseer of the Royal Chariots, had said that I was skilled enough in the driving of chariots.
I wanted to go on a lion hunt to show Neyah that I could share in all the thin
gs he did, so that when we grew up, if he went on an expedition against a warring country, he would take me with him into battle.
I wished we were hunting leopards or crocodiles, and not lions, even though we hunted only old ones that attacked people working in the fields because they couldn’t catch deer any more. I hoped that the one we killed wouldn’t look even a little like Natee; but if Father, who loved Shamba, didn’t mind killing bad lions, I knew I was silly to worry that the ones we killed might be even very distant relations of Natee.
There was a foreigner staying at the palace, a barbarian from the north-east; at least, Neyah said he was. I hadn’t seen him yet.
I wore a boy’s hunting-dress, like Neyah’s: the striped linen head-dress, a pectoral of thick quilting embroidered in rays of find gold work, wide gold armlets, and a linen kilt with a gold-studded leather belt to hold my hunting-knife.
When I was ready I went to the outer court, where the chariots waited. There were forty of them lined up in a long row. Father’s horse and Neyah’s and mine had ostrich plumes upon their heads, of scarlet and green, which were my father’s colours. At the end of each horse was its charioteer, who would hold the spear until the noble who drove the chariot was ready for it, then he would take the reins until the lion was killed. On the other side of the courtyard were the hunting-dogs, black, with pointed ears, like jackals, and they were held by the hound-boys, two in each leash.
My mother joined me at the top of the steps. She was wearing a blue dress embroidered with scarlet fishes and wavy water-lines of silver: her cloak was of the new violet dye, which is made from shell-fish and comes from across the sea to the north. She wore a wreath of scarlet arbeeta flowers; they have a very sweet smell, and her favourite unguent was scented with them.
Her eyes looked a little anxious, and I hoped she was not worried about my going out hunting. I knew she wouldn’t tell me if she were, for once I heard her say that if a mother was foolish enough to let her secret fears for her children shadow her day, she must not let this foolishness shadow the days of others. Maata was not like that. Once, when Neyah and I went out sailing, our boat got stuck on a mud-bank and we didn’t get back till late at night. Maata was terribly angry with us, just because she felt frightened herself. She never realised how unfair it was of her; it hadn’t been our fault at all, and we had had no food all day except a bunch of grapes we had happened to pick on our way down to the boat. Mother wasn’t a bit cross; she said how clever we had been to get off the bank at all, and she gave us a specially lovely supper in her room, although it was long past our bedtime.
I asked Mother what the barbarian was like, and she laughed and said, “You mustn’t call him that, because he is a king in his own country, even if he is a foreigner here. His name is Sardok…” And then she stopped because we heard people coming. It was Father and the guests for the hunt. When he saw me dressed as a prince, he put his arm round my shoulder and said to the man beside him, “See, I have another son!” I hoped Neyah heard.
Neyah was going along the line of horses, inspecting the harness. As though it needed it! Dear Neyah—he can’t help being a little grand sometimes.
I thought Harka was coming with me, but Father told him to go with the barbarian. I looked at Sardok and thought, “You may be a king in your own country, but here you are a fat man, very fat.” He had a great black beard all curled and greased like a decorated he-goat; and his hair was in ringlets, so heavily perfumed that you could smell him further away than a wild-cat.
Then we got into our chariots. Serten came with me; I had always been fond of him for giving me Natee. My horse was black and white like an ibis, so I had named him Moon-shadow. Father headed the line of chariots out of the courtyard, Sardok went next, because he was the chief guest, and then Neyah and I. I waved to Mother before I went out of the gate, and wheeled my chariot very fast through the pylon so she should see how good I was at driving and not worry about me.
We went for about half an hour up river to the plain of Arbaw, which is a great marsh, dry at this season, where there were two old lions who took cattle when they went down to drink. The hound-boys had gone ahead along the river bank. When we reached the place to where they were going to drive the lions, the chariots were ranged in a great semi-circle, with Father in the middle, Sardok on one side of him, and myself on the other. When a lion breaks cover, the two chariots between which it runs challenge each other, and between them lies the glory of the swift.
In front of us there was a wide belt of high papyrus reeds where the trackers had reported the lions to be sleeping in the heat of the day. We could hear the dogs working through the reeds and the shouting of the hound-boys, who carried flaming torches of dry palm-wood, coated with resin, which gave off a heavy black smoke to frighten the lions. I saw the smoke nearing us. Some of the horses were getting very excited and pawing the ground, but Moon-shadow was being very good. Serten said he was as steady with a lion as any other horse with its own stable-dog. I suppose he had become used to Natee coming out with us. I wished I didn’t keep on thinking of Natee.
Suddenly there was a great roaring, and a lion broke from the reeds with four hound-dogs yelping behind him. I was so excited I could hardly breathe. It seemed to be coming straight at me, I had the reins in my hands ready to give them to Serten. Then at the last minute it swerved and went between Father and Sardok. Father let Sardok go ahead. Sardok was clumsy and swerved his horse so fast that it stumbled, and when he threw his spear he missed the lion altogether. It turned and sprang at him, but he cringed down and the lion landed on Harka and knocked him on to the ground. Father, who was close behind, leaped from his galloping chariot straight on to the lion. He dared not use his spear because of Harka, and he forced his arm under the lion’s head and drove his knife into his neck.
Neyah and I both reached Father just as he was pulling the dead lion off Harka. I had thought Father was going to be killed, and I knew Neyah had too, because he looked very pale. I felt so proud of Father, but I didn’t say anything for fear of crying. Harka was still alive, but his left arm was badly torn. I sat on the ground and took his head on my lap. He opened his eyes and tried to smile at me, and then he closed them again. Father felt his heart and said that he still lived.
Sardok had got out of his chariot. I hoped that the scorn Neyah and I felt for him showed in our eyes, so he would know that although he was a king, in spirit he was a very little man. He said to Father, “That was a great risk to take for a servant.”
Father’s voice was like granite as he answered, “No man would have done less for his friend.”
How dared Sardok speak of Harka like that! Harka, who was worth a thousand fat barbarians; Harka, who had loved us all since we were children, and who had taught my father to drive. Sardok must have felt our contempt, for he walked away and talked to one of his own people.
CHAPTER THREE
The Healer with the Knife
The lion had hurt Harka very badly. Father said it would be safer for him to be taken home, not in a chariot, but lying full-stretched on one of the carrying-platforms, which had been meant for a dead lion. There were four bearers to this litter, and though they ran swiftly, it went smoothly, so even was the rhythm of their stride.
I went ahead in a chariot to tell my mother what had happened, so that she could summon healers from the temple. For a lion bite is like the bite of a copper sword, and it must be healed quickly or the flesh will die round the wound while the person still lives. I wished Father and Neyah weren’t going on with the hunt. I knew just how Mother must feel when Neyah and I were out doing the sort of things that seem so dangerous when you’re not doing them yourself.
A room in my father’s private apartments was prepared. A high narrow bed, such as is used for rubbing, was put in the middle of the room and covered with several thicknesses of linen sheets. Beside it on a table were two jars of salves, made from my father’s herbs, some bowls of water, and a jar of cane-spirit, which, althoug
h it feels like fire, is cleansing for a dirty wound.
Ptah-kefer and the healer in attendance on the Royal Household were both waiting in the room when Harka was carried in. I asked my mother if I could stay with Harka. At first she would have refused me, thinking I was too young; but I said that if I was old enough to see him hurt, then I was old enough to see him cured.
When I was little, the sight of blood made my bowels cringe up inside me, and my hands and forehead damp; so I had watched unseen when the tribute bulls were slaughtered for the butcher, until the sight of spilled blood stirred me no more than wine running from a cracked jar. Yet as I watched them bringing in Harka, I found that this weakness, which I thought to have conquered, was still there, and the sight of blood running from a friend was very different to that from a bull.
Harka’s face was a curious purple colour; one side of it twitched, while the other was smooth. Ptah-kefer, covering his eyes with his hand, stooped over the wounds: he remained still for a moment, and then he beckoned to the healer, and they went to the doorway and talked quietly together. I heard him say that Harka’s skull had been crushed and was pressing on the brain, and unless the piece of bone was lifted, one side of his body would always be still, and that the skill of Zertar was needed.
When Zertar came, he brought with him what looked like goldsmith’s tools. Usually work such as this is done in the temple, but it was decided that it would be better for Harka to stay here instead of being moved again.
Poor Harka! I went up to him and took his hand. He gripped mine, so I knew he had not yet left his body. The wounds on his side and shoulder had been covered with cloths of wet linen; but the bright blood soon stained them.
