Excited whispers filled the air around the now silent Etruscan.
His words, passed from end to end of the rows of slaves, had at first aroused militant ardour in the listeners, but now doubt was spreading amongst those bold leaders. His words took away all hope of a successful outcome; they removed even the ghost of a chance, so that the bravest of the warriors wavered. Whispers in many languages carried down the coal-black tunnel of the corridor.
An Amu, a Semite from the land beyond the Blue Waters, crawled to the centre of the group where the four friends lay. Men of the Amu tribe constituted a large proportion of the inhabitants of the shehne.
“I insist on a revolt. Let death be our lot but we shall be revenged on the accursed people of this accursed land! We will be an example to be followed by others! Too long has Quemt been living in peace, the brutal art of oppression has robbed millions of slaves of the will to fight. We will light the flames of revolt.”
“It’s good that you think like that, you’re a brave man,” Cavius interrupted him. “But what will you say to those whom you will lead?”
“I will say the same to them,” answered the Semite fervently.
“Are you sure they’ll follow you?” whispered the Etruscan. “The truth is too painful… and lies are useless under such circumstances — the people will easily sense the truth. To them the truth is that which each carries in his own heart.”
The Semite did not answer him. In the meantime the lean, lithe body of the Libyan Akhmi squeezed through the rows of recumbent men. Pandion knew that this young slave, captured during a battle at the Horns of the Earth, came from a noble family. He assured them that near the tombs of the most ancient kings of Quemt, near the cities of Tinis and Abydos, a road led to the southwest as far as Wahet-Wer, a big oasis in the desert. It was a road with good wells, plenty of water and was not guarded by troops. They had to plunge into the desert immediately behind the temple Zesher-Zesheru, turn southwest and cross the road at a point a hundred and twenty thousand cubits from the river. The Libyan undertook to lead them to the road and farther. There were but few troops at the oasis and the insurgents could easily seize it. The next stage was a mere twenty-five thousand cubits across the desert to the next oasis, Pasht, that stretched westward in a long, narrow strip. Farther still they would find the Oasis of Mut, whence a route with wells led to the hills of the Dead Serpent; from this latter place there was a road leading southwards to the Land of the Blacks, which the Libyan did not know.
“I know that road,” Kidogo put in. “I travelled that road in the first year of my captivity.”
“There’s a good supply of dates at the oases and we can rest there. There are no fortifications at any of them and we can take pack animals with us; with their help we can get as far as the Dead Serpent and from then on, beyond the Salt Lake, there’s more water.”
The Libyan’s plan was generally approved. It seemed quite possible of fulfilment.
The ever-cautious Cavius, however, asked the Libyan more questions.
“Are you certain that there are wells at a distance of a hundred and twenty thousand cubits from the river? It’s a long journey to make.”
“It may be a little more,” answered the Libyan calmly. “A strong man can make that journey without water under one condition — we must start no later than — midnight and march without a halt. You can’t live more than twenty-four hours without water in the desert, nor can you march in the afternoon.”
One of the Asians, a Heriusha, proposed attacking the fortress on the road to the harbour of Suu, but, despite the fact that this plan was very attractive to the slaves, most of whom were Asians, and to the Amu, it was dropped since it was agreed that it would be impossible to fight their way to the east.
The Libyan’s plan was more promising although there was disagreement between the Negroes and the Asians: the road to the south-west took the Asians still farther from their native land, but it was advantageous to the Negroes and the Libyans. The Libyans hoped to travel northwards from the Oasis of Mut and reach that part of their country that was not under the rule of the Egyptians. Pandion and the Etruscans intended going with the Libyans.
They were all pacified by an elderly Nubian who said he knew a road to the south that by-passed the fortresses of the Black Land and went through the plains of Nubia to the Blue Waters.
The narrow crescent of the moon rose above the terraced hills of the desert and still the insurgent slaves continued to plan their flight. They were now discussing the details of the revolt and gave a task to each group under a specific leader.
The revolt was timed to begin on the night after the next, immediately it became completely dark.
Sixty men crawled silently back to various parts of the compound while above them, silhouetted against the moonlit sky, stood the sentries, little suspecting what was going on below them and full of contempt for those who slept in the dark hole beneath their feet.
Cautiously and unnoticed, the plans for the revolt continued all next day and night and all through the second day. The leaders, for fear of traitors, spoke only to those with whom they were well acquainted, expecting that the others would join the general mass of the insurgents once the sentries had been removed.
The night of the revolt came. Groups of people assembled in the darkness, one for each of the three walls — the northern, western and southern. On the eastern side, two groups gathered under the inner wall.
The movement of the men had been carried out so speedily that by the time Cavius struck an upturned water jug with a stone, giving the signal for attack, they had already formed living pyramids. The bodies of seventy men formed a slope against the vertical wall. There were five such living bridges over which men, intoxicated with the coming battle, swarmed from all sides.
Cavius, Pandion, Remdus and Kidogo were amongst the first to mount the inner wall. The Hellene, without pausing to think, leaped down into the darkness and was followed by dozens of others.
Pandion knocked down a soldier who appeared from the guard-house, jumped on his back and twisted his neck. The Egyptian’s back-bone cracked softly and his body went limp in Pandion’s hands. All round him, in the darkness, the slaves hunted and seized their hated enemies. In their fury men attacked armed soldiers with their bare hands. Before any of the soldiers could defend himself against an attacker from the front, others jumped on him from the sides and from behind; unarmed, but strong in their wrathful fury, the slaves dug their teeth into the hands that held weapons and stuck their fingers into the soldiers’ eyes. Weapons, weapons at any cost^-this was the one idea of the attackers. Those who succeeded in seizing a dagger or spear were still more furious in their attacks, feeling death-dealing strength in their hands. Pandion struck right and left with the sword he had taken from a dead enemy. Kidogo fought with a huge pole used for carrying water.
Cavius mounted the living bridge and threw himself at four soldiers on guard over the inner door. The astounded Egyptians put up a poor resistance as they were literally crushed by the avalanche of silent men that fell en them from above.
With a shout of triumph Cavius pushed open the heavy bolt on the doors and soon the crowd of liberated slaves occupied the entire area between the walls, broke into the house of Commandant of the shehne and killed the soldiers resting there after the guard had been changed.
On the walls above the struggle was even more desperate. The nine sentries on the wall had noticed the attacking slaves in good time. Arrows whistled through the air and the silence of the night was broken by the moans of the wounded and the thud of bodies falling from above.
Nine Egyptians, however, could not long resist a hundred of infuriated slaves, who flew directly on to the spears of the soldiers and rolled down from the wall together with them.
In the meantime the soldiers and officials had been dealt with in the narrow confines between the two walls: the keys of the outer gates had been found on the dead Commandant and the screech of the rusty hinges
as the gates opened was like a cry of victory in the night.
Spears, shields, daggers, bows — everything was taken from the soldiers, clown to the last arrow. The armed slaves headed the crowd of runaways and all of them, in deep silence, made their way to the river.
Every boat, barge or raft they could get hold of was used to begin the river crossing. Several men perished in the river, falling victims to the huge crocodiles that guarded the waters of Tha-Quem,
Before two hours had elapsed the vanguard of the column reached a shehne situated on the other bank of the river on the road to Zesher-Zesheru.
Cavius, Pandion and two Libyans went openly to the gates and knocked while about a hundred other slaves pressed close against the wall near the gates,
A soldier shouted down from the wall, asking them what they wanted. A Libyan who spoke the language of Tha-Quem fluently demanded the Commandant of the shehne, saying that he had a letter from the Director of Royal Works. Several voices were heard behind the door; a torch was lighted, and the door opened, showing them a courtyard between two walls similar to that they had just left. The Captain of the Guard stepped forward from a group of soldiers and demanded the letter.
Cavius rushed at him with a howl of fury and plunged Yakhmos’ dagger into his breast while Pandion and the Libyans rushed at the other soldiers. The other armed slaves, who were standing prepared for action, took advantage of the confusion and burst into the shehne with terrifying cries. The torches went out and the darkness was filled with suppressed groans, howls and martial shouts. Pandion made short work of two opponents and opened the inner door. The call to revolt resounded throughout the shehne, now awakened by the noise of battle, as slaves darted here and there calling to their astounded fellow-countrymen in their native language. The compound hummed like a beehive; the howls grew in volume until they merged into a deep roar. The soldiers on the walls dashed back and forth, afraid to descend; they shouted threats at the slaves and from time to time let fly arrows at random. The fight in the corridor between the walls died down; well-aimed arrows flew from the courtyard at the clearly visible soldiers on the walls and the second shehne was liberated.
The crowd of liberated slaves, puzzled and inebriated by their sudden liberty, streamed through the doors and spread in all directions, paying no attention to the shouts of their liberators. In a short time savage howls came from the direction of the houses and fires broke out in several places. Cavius advised the other leaders to assemble those of their shehne companions who were already acquainted with discipline. The Etruscan stood deep in thought, running his fingers through his beard; in his eyes, turned westwards in the direction to be followed, there was a red glint — the reflection of the fires.
Cavius was thinking that they had most probably made a mistake in liberating the slaves from the second shehne without any preparatory work amongst them. His own followers were already familiar with the conception of a common purposeful struggle and it was possible that more harm than good would come of joining them to a mass of people who were unprepared, who acted as individuals and were intoxicated by the possibility of vengeance and liberty.
Such proved to be the case. A large number of the slaves from the first shehne were also attracted by the idea of plunder and destruction. Apart from that, time had been lost, every minute of which was of the utmost importance. The smaller column moved on towards the third shehne situated some eight thousand cubits from the second, in the immediate vicinity of the Temple of Zesher-Zesheru.
There was no time to change the plan of the revolt and Cavius foresaw very great difficulties. And as they approached the shehne the Etruscan noticed the silhouettes of soldiers drawn up on the walls and heard shouts of “A’atu, a’atu!” (insurgents) followed by the whistle of the arrows with which the Egyptians greeted the approaching column from a long distance.
The insurgents halted to discuss a plan of attack. The shehne, prepared for defence, was a good fortress, and its capture would occupy considerable time. The insurgents raised a tremendous noise to awaken the slaves in the shehne and encourage them to attack the guards on the wall from within.
Cavius, who was already hoarse, shouted at the top of his voice to the other leaders, trying to persuade them to abandon the attack. They would not agree; the easily obtained victory had given them confidence, and it seemed to them that it would be possible to liberate all the slaves in Quemt and conquer the country.
Suddenly the Libyan, Akhmi, let out a penetrating howl and hundreds of heads turned in his direction. The Libyan waved his arms, pointing in the direction of the river. From the high bank that rose steeply towards the cliffs, the river that washed the numerous landing places of the capital could be seen over a long distance. Everywhere the lights of torches flared up, merging into a dully flickering line; flickering points of light appeared in the middle of the river and were gathering in two places on the bank on the side of the insurgents.
There could be no doubt — large detachments of soldiers were crossing the river, hurrying to surround the place where there were fires and where the escaped slaves were concentrated.
And here the insurgents were still dashing from place to place seeking a means of attacking the shehne; some of them had tried to approach the enemy by following the bed of an irrigation canal, others were expending valuable arrows.
A glance cast over the indefinite outlines of the dark mass of people told Cavius that there were not more than three hundred men in the column capable of giving battle; of these less than a half had knives or spears, while only about thirty bows had been captured.
But a short time would elapse before hundreds of ‘the terrible archers of the Black Land would send clouds of long arrows into them from a great distance and thousands of well-trained troops would draw a tight ring around slaves who had only just tasted liberty.
Akhmi, his eyes flashing in anger, shouted that it was already past midnight and that if they did not start immediately it would be too late.
It cost the Akhmi, Cavius and Pandion many precious minutes to explain to the crowd, inflamed and eager for battle, the uselessness of any attempt to stand up against the troops of the capital. The leaders insisted on an immediate march into the desert and, in case of necessity, were prepared to start out themselves, leaving behind those who were distracted by the search for weapons, by plunder and revenge. A number of slaves who did not agree left the column and set off along the river towards the rich estate of some aristocrat whence came loud noises and the light of torches. The remainder, a little more than two hundred men, agreed to go.
Soon the long dark column, winding like a snake through a narrow canyon between steep cliffs still hot from the daytime sun, made their way to the level edge of the valley. The runaways were confronted with an endless plain of sand and stones. Pandion looked back for the last time at the huge river gleaming faintly below them. How many days of sorrow, despair, hope and wrath he had spent beside that calmly flowing waterway! Joy and infinite gratitude to his trusty comrades filled the heart of the young Hellene. In triumph he turned his back on the land of slavery and increased his already fast pace.
The band of insurgents had marched some twenty thousand cubits from the rim of the valley when the Libyan halted the column. Behind them, in the east, the sky had begun to grow light.
The contours of the rounded sand-dunes, some of them as much as a hundred and fifty cubits high, stretching far away to the vague, scarcely visible line of the horizon, were but faintly perceptible in the dull leaden light of early morning. At the hour of dawn the desert was silent, the air was motionless, the jackals and hyenas had ceased their howls.
“You’ve been hurrying us all the time, why do you linger now? What do you want?” impatient slaves in the back rows asked the Libyan.
He explained that the most difficult part of the journey was about to begin — endless ridges of sand-dunes, one after the other, each ridge higher than the last until they reached a height of three hundred cub
its. The slaves were reformed into a column two deep and were told that they would have to keep going without halt, without dropping back, paying no attention to fatigue; those who fell behind would never reach their destination. The Libyan would go ahead and seek a path between the dunes.
It turned out that hardly anybody had found an opportunity to drink before leaving and many of them were already tormented by thirst after the heat of battle. Not everybody had a mantle, cloth or even rags with which to cover his head and shoulders from the sun, but there was nothing they could do about it.
Strung out in a column two hundred cubits long, the slaves moved on in silence, their eyes fixed on their feet dragging through the soft sand. The leading files zigzagged right and left winding their way through the dunes to avoid slopes of shifting sand.
A wide purple strip glowed in the sky to the east.
The crescent-shaped and sharply serrated ridges of the sand-hills turned to gold. In the sunlight the desert appeared before Pandion’s eyes like a sea with high frozen waves whose smooth slopes reflected an orange-yellow light. The excitement of the night gradually died down and the men grew calmer. Liberty, the expanse of the desert, the gold of the distant dawn — all served to revive men weary of captivity. Joy filled their hearts in place of malice and fear, sorrow and despair.
The morning light grew brighter and the sky seemed to recede into its bottomless blue depths. As the sun rose higher its rays at first gave them friendly warmth but soon began to burn and sear them. The slow, dragging, toilsome path through the labyrinth of deep gullies between high sand-hills became more and more difficult. The shadows of the hills grew shorter; it became painful to walk over the burning hot sand, but the men went on, never stopping, never looking back. Ahead of them lay endless ridges of sand-hills, all exactly the same, that cut off all view of their surroundings.
As time went on the air, sunlight and sand merged into one huge sea of flame, that blinded, asphyxiated and burned like molten metal.
The Land of Foam Page 13
