Flocks of wading birds clustered in variously coloured patches everywhere. Many of the species were white and to Nikolas’ foreign eyes looked like snow on the riverbanks, incongruous in the heat of summer; white cranes with their long legs and sharp pointed beaks; ibis with their black heads and long curved beaks; slow-moving white pelicans with their distinctive bill-pouch; spoonbills. Birds with darker plumage also filled the riverbanks and mud-flats and rose in raucous flight. Small grebes, geese, ducks, moorhens and coots. Many were wading birds such as thick-knees, herons and storks. Cormorants and darters, both in their black plumage, dove and swam in the water seeking small fish and could be seen standing on the bank or roosting in trees with their wings spread to dry their feathers. Despite the distance from the coastal marshes there were even a few white flamingos, sifting through shallow water with their heads turned to allow the beak to be upside down. Overhead raptors circled and occasionally plummeted to take smaller birds such as plovers, snipes and doves either on the wing or at the water’s edge.
The sheer number and variety of the bird species was incredible, as was the noise that they made.
Every few miles a small village came into view on one or other bank of the river, perhaps two or three dozen huts made of mud-brick and thatched with papyrus reeds; villagers moved about their business, bathing and washing clothes at the water’s edge, sun-drying fish on thin acacia racks, retting bundles of flax in the water and leading livestock to drink at the water’s edge. Small fishing boats made of tied bundles of papyrus reeds and carrying one or two men, or more often one man and a boy, bobbed on the river as the villagers sought to exploit the very abundant and near at hand source of protein, the fish which teemed in the river.
Towards dusk Lorentis asked Nikolas archly, “And what are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?”
“The guards will sleep on deck, one in turn on guard by the cabin door – and he’d better stay awake.” He paused teasingly before continuing, “The master and mistress and maid in the cabin.”
Another pause. “You can have one sleeping pallet unless you wish to invite me to share?…No?” he continued with a humorous smile. “Perhaps Madam Merchant will reconsider later,” he teased.
Lorentis blushed furiously and snapped, “I think not!”
Just before darkness the boat tied up at the river’s edge, close to a village on the bank of the river. Kiya slipped off to the village to buy supplies, returning with fresh bread, fish, herbs, cheese, milk, fruit and vegetables. By the time she returned the ship’s cook had finished cooking for the crew and the half-dozen other passengers, and Kiya cheerfully elbowed him aside from the cooking fire and utensils to prepare the travellers’ meal. She was careful to reserve portions for use the next morning.
Well after nightfall Lorentis entered the cabin and after bathing in the dark in a bowl of river water, disrobed and slipped onto the larger sleeping-pallet. After a few minutes Nikolas and Kiya slipped into the cabin. They also quickly bathed from the bowl in the dark and Nikolas scrubbed his teeth with miswak, a natural toothbrush comprising a fibrous stick from the toothbrush tree. After opening the window-shutters to let in whatever breeze there was, they lit an oil lamp to allow Kiya to see clearly to apply more of the antiseptic and antibacterial salve to the chest wound; then Nikolas and Kiya curled up together on the sleeping-pallet on the floor.
T T T T
Next morning they woke well before first light with the bustle of the crew preparing to sail. Despite some disturbance from three people sleeping in close proximity in a small room and the heat of the night, their sleep had been reasonably restful. In spite of the Egyptian tradition against modesty, with the rising sun Nikolas and Kiya turned their backs to Lorentis as they rose, performed their ablutions and dressed quickly. Lorentis stayed hidden under the sheet on her sleeping-pallet until they had departed.
Nikolas stood next to Hunnifer, close by where one of the sailors attended the steering-oars at the rear of the boat. They stood partially in the shade cast by the large sail, which was flapping lazily in the fitful and inconsistent northerly breeze. Because of the direction of the wind, the boat was proceeding slowly along a shallow section near the east bank of the river. Hunnifer kept calling out course corrections to the man on the steering-oar. Clearly he knew this section of the river like the back of his hand and was able to direct the boat around shallows and obstructions hidden beneath the turbid waters.
“So, Captain, you’ve clearly been on the river for many years,” said Nikolas.
“Twenty-five years now, man and boy,” replied Hunnifer. Whilst a quiet and morose man, the pleasant coolness of this beautiful morning made him somewhat more prepared to chat. After all, Nikolas was paying well and deserved at least some politeness. “You fucking useless whoreson bastard!” he suddenly roared. “I told you fifty paces off the riverbank, not thirty. You’ll have us aground, you slimy green turd! I’ll rip out your guts and feed them to the crocodiles!” The man on the steering-oar leaned outwards, directing the boat away from the riverbank, seemingly oblivious to the abuse being hurled at him.
“That’s a formidable career! Have you seen many changes in the river traffic in that time?” asked Nikolas after a pause.
“Things change all the time,” replied Hunnifer. “More barges from the quarries in the old days,” he said, nodding towards a barge heading downstream with two large granite slabs lashed in its centre and another on a raft being towed behind. “More people to be carried these days. Perhaps we need some boats built to carry just people, not goods; passengers are more trouble but pay good money. Of course, those people who are on Pharaoh’s business travel on his dispatch boats or transports, but there are plenty of merchants such as yourself and others who want to go from place to place. Always cargo to carry. I never carry animals, that’s one of my rules; can’t get the smell of the shit out of the boat.”
“Any changes recently?” queried Nikolas.
“Not really. I said fifty paces you ian pHwy baboon’s arsehole, not a hundred!”
“What cargo do you usually carry?” Nikolas asked with interest.
“Much the same as this time. Apart from your goods I’ve got amphorae of wine, balanos oil, moringa oil, some bales of fine linen. Some planks of imported cedar-wood. Coming back downstream it’s usually sacks of grain,” replied the sailor.
Nikolas gave up trying to extract information but chatted on for a few more minutes before moving forward.
Later that afternoon Nikolas took Kiya aside for a private conversation and it was agreed that each day she would take a small dose of the herb silphium, a rare plant of the fennel family from Cyrene in Libya which had contraceptive properties, and which Nikolas imported and stocked as part of his herbal business.
T T T T
Towards evening the boat approached the docks at Atfih, where Pamose and his servant were to join them. Several passengers stood on the dock, together with bales and crates of produce waiting to be loaded. A tall, strikingly handsome man stood at the fore. Nikolas guessed from his features, very reminiscent of Kahun’s, that he was Pamose. When the boat docked, Pamose strode up the gangplank to Nikolas and grasped forearms in greeting.
“You must be Nikolas,” he said. “Not too many Greeks wandering around trying to look like Egyptians. I’m Pamose. Kahun has contacted me to tell me to place myself at your disposal and has arranged extended leave from my regiment. I don’t have any idea what it is about, but I’m your man! The regiment was just about to be transferred to the Western Deserts and anything is better than that!”
Nikolas took him to one side on the wharf and briefly filled him in on their mission. As they did so the crew was busily unloading and loading cargo.
“I am, of course, at Pharaoh’s command. I’ll be most happy to assist in whatever way I can.” Pamose paused and sighed noisily. “It seems to me that we have a most difficult mission. One I would have expected to have been given to the secret-police, not a bunch of rank am
ateurs.”
“I agree,” said Nikolas. “I really can’t understand why we’ve been instructed, and in my case paid heavily, to be involved in what should be a police investigation. By the way, with the way that Pharaoh was handing out incentives you need to get your snout in the trough like the rest of us. I’m getting a substantial payment, Lorentis is being endowed with land and Kahun gets a big promotion. What do you want to get out of this?”
Pamose smiled sheepishly. “Doing one’s duty should of course be enough. Our family has enough land and I really don’t need money. Like Kahun, promotion and a good posting, perhaps to Pi-Ramesses, would be a nice reward. Something for us both to think about. Look, I’ll be back before dawn and ready to board and I’ll see you then.”
Late that evening Nikolas had Kiya attend to the stitches in his chest wound. While still slightly red, the skin was now held tight and the stitches had to be removed. By the light of an oil lamp in the cabin Kiya carefully snipped with small bronze scissors and pulled out the pieces of thread with tweezers, paying particular attention to ensure each scrap was extracted before moving on. Nikolas winced as each thread was removed.
“Wimp!” commented Lorentis.
“Hey, swap places and see how you feel!” retorted Nikolas. After removal of the stitches the edges of the wound remained closed and it appeared that Nikolas would be fortunate with quick healing and no infection, and the scar wouldn’t be too noticeable.
Lorentis watched as Kiya worked carefully and diligently. “You were right, Nikolas. She is an asset to this group.” Kiya smiled quietly without looking up as she worked busily. Afterwards, as she rubbed the antiseptic unguent over the wound, Nikolas noted that she was quietly muttering magical incantations, but he made no comment.
Nikolas had arranged food from a local town tavern for the night, and additional supplies for the next day. They ate well and joined the crew and other passengers by their fire on the riverbank.
The group was singing raucously, with several musical instruments, drums and flutes making discordant noises as their intoxicated players struggled to keep a beat.
After a while Hunnifer struggled to his feet, and standing in the firelight raised a hand for silence. He gestured to the drummer to be ready and began the rhythmic chant of a story. It was The Story of the Shipwrecked Sailor.
As he began his chant the drummer started to beat a steady rhythm
“The wise servant said, ‘Let thy heart be satisfied, O my lord, for that we have come back to the country; after we have been long on board, and rowed much, the prow has at last touched land. All the people rejoice and embrace us one after another. Moreover, we have come back in good health, and not a man is lacking; although we have been to the ends of Wawat and gone through the land of Senmut, we have returned in peace, and our land- behold, we have come back to it. Hear me, my lord; I have no other refuge. Wash thee, and turn the water over thy fingers; then go and tell the tale to the majesty.”
Hunnifer continued for half an hour, chanting from memory the story learned by rote, the drum beating slowly and the audience listening enthralled to the traditional tale. At last he came to the end.
After several moments of hushed silence the audience gave a roar of applause and Hunnifer raised his arms in acknowledgement, a broad grin splitting his fat face.
T T T T
At first light next morning they were eating a breakfast of bread dipped in olive oil with cold cooked meat, cheese, yoghurt, fruit and cow’s milk when Pamose and Tutu arrived with their gear. They arrived well before the boat was ready to leave and before they joined the breakfast they and the other Egyptians turned to the sun which was now peeking over the horizon and gave thanks to the god Khepri for his labours during the night to bring back the morning sun. Pamose was a younger, taller and more handsome version of Kahun, with dreamy dark eyes. Tutu, while not tall, was a large, apparently slow-thinking and slow-moving individual, with an effeminate manner. Pamose made it clear that regarding Tutu appearances were deceptive. He was an ex-soldier and quick of hand, while also well trained as a man-servant at the family estate.
“Balls of metal and a quick temper,” he confided to Nikolas.
Lorentis’ eyes twinkled as she looked at Pamose, sitting opposite her and delicately eating his breakfast, his long fingers pulling his loaf of flat bread apart. Quick tempers she was used to; her mind boggled slightly about metal balls.
Kiya leaned over and whispered in her ear “Steady, Mistress. We can’t ask that young bull-stud into the bed you are supposed to be sharing with your ‘husband’, can we?”
Lorentis looked startled and started to exclaim “What do you…?”
before Kiya made a small motion of negation with her right hand.
“No problem, Mistress. Whatever you want!” she said in a ‘girls in it all together’ way. Lorentis looked confused, both about what Kiya had said and her own feelings.
Nikolas and Pamose spent most of that day sitting cross-legged on deck, playing games of senet on a board placed between them on the deck.
T T T T
That night the boat again tied up at a village on the riverbank. As had been the case on other nights, after the crew and passengers had fed they mingled with the villagers who had come to the water’s edge to meet the boatmen and travellers, to buy or sell or just chat and watch. Wrestling was the national sport of Egypt, and several nights when the boat was tied up on the riverbank wrestling bouts between the village men and some of the boatmen had taken place.
Such events were usually carried out with goodwill between the participants and were little more than a test of strength, although small sums were sometimes wagered.
Nikolas had been watching a bulky crewman named Serapion, a man of middling height and stout build with massive muscles on his arms and legs but seemingly little inside his head. At several villages Hunnifer had previously arranged a match between Serapion and the village champion, betting heavily on the outcome. Serapion had not yet lost and had shown speed, strength, endurance – and a vicious streak. His trademark end to a bout was to either dislocate his opponent’s shoulder or to break his arm.
This night Hunnifer again arranged a competition and made bets on the outcome with several of the villagers. As the combatants threw and grappled with each other, either standing or rolling in the dirt, the darkness was held back by torches raised aloft by the crowd. The villager, a large man with the massive forearms of a metalworker, showed himself to be plucky, but not a match for the speed shown by Serapion. Eventually, holding his opponent pinned to the ground, Serapion was declared winner. As he went to rise he seemingly stumbled and grasped the villager’s arm as he fell. The loud snap as the bones of the left forearm broke could be heard clearly above the hubbub, followed immediately by the roar of pain from the vanquished wrestler; yet another opponent who would be unnecessarily unable to work for months.
Nikolas had seen the look of malicious delight on the faces of both Serapion and Hunnifer as the ‘stumble’ had occurred, and decided enough was enough. Of only middle height and a slight but wiry build without any obvious muscle strength, and with his movement slowed by his slightly lame left leg, Nikolas had nevertheless been taught in his youth by some of the great exponents of Greek wrestling. He’d kept his hand in by frequent friendly bouts with Amos and some of his other guards.
“Captain Hunnifer, I would arrange a bout with your champion Serapion,” said Nikolas as he approached the smirking fat man, who was counting his winnings in the semi-darkness at the edge of the torchlight.
“And which of your men would that be?” asked Hunnifer, looking around.
“Me,” replied Nikolas.
“You!” exclaimed Hunnifer, looking as if he either had lost his senses or gone deaf.
“Yes. How about a little wager to enliven the bout? If I win you return the fifty deben I have paid so far and we travel free. If I lose, I pay another fifty deben on top of the other fifty that we still owe you for the j
ourney.” He was offering odds of two to one against.
“Done!” roared Hunnifer, slapping hands with Nikolas to seal the bargain.
There was a buzz around the crowd as Nikolas stripped completely naked, save for the bandage still strapped around his chest. The wound was now largely healed and the bandage almost superfluous, but it did act to hide the exact point of the injury. Serapion, wearing the traditional loincloth, was grinning with confidence as he stepped into the circle of light cast by the dozen torches held aloft by some of the crowd of a hundred or so spectators. As well he might, given he was half as heavy again as Nikolas, who exaggerated his infirmities by dragging his left leg slightly. There was a hubbub of conversation amongst the crowd as they waited, which stilled in expectation as the contestants warmed up, swinging their arm and performing knee-bends in the ring indicated by a circle drawn in the sand some six paces across.
Lorentis look horrified at Nikolas’ stupidity, and with Nikolas’ nudity wasn’t quite able to keep her eyes where she felt they should be. Kiya looked worried but confident. Pamose had disappeared to lay some fast bets.
Nikolas wondered who Pamose was putting his money on, as he had Kiya rub olive oil onto his skin to make him harder to hold. Serapion had not taken that trouble for either bout tonight. The crowd went quiet as the competitors walked to the centre of the ring and slowly circled. While Nikolas was a stranger, he was taking on the man who had just injured the village smith. They may not be so foolish as to bet on him winning, but there was a positive swell and cries of encouragement as he made his moves.
The referee made his call to start. Nikolas knew that he had neither the strength nor endurance for a long match and he slipped quickly into range. With a quick scissors movement of his legs he caught Serapion and brought him heavily to the ground, sand flying with the impact and then hanging in a haze in the torchlight. With a quick spring onto Serapion’s back Nikolas applied pressure to his throat. He then found that Serapion’s version of Egyptian wrestling was ‘anything goes’, as Serapion reached between his legs, seeking a crushing hand movement to the balls. This forced Nikolas to shift his body weight and in a flash Serapion was on his knees, punching viciously at the bandages on Nikolas’ chest. The crowd booed and hissed at these blatant breaches of the accepted rules, in which punches were not permitted. Nikolas spat out blood from a cut mouth, where he had been repeatedly elbowed in the clinches while on the ground. Fortunately the blows missed Nikolas’ wound, Serapion being right-handed the blows struck the left side of Nikolas’ chest. As Nikolas leapt to his feet he was now covered with a coating of sand sticking to the oil applied minutes before. He brought his right elbow up in crashing blow to Serapion’s jaw.
Murder in the Palace: A Nikolas of Kydonia Mystery Page 8
