by David Bell
“And soon, Lady Akusha, it will be soon.”
At dusk after a hot, still day the room was airless and foetid with the smell of sickness. Kanesh lay still, the pauses in his shallow breathing becoming longer and longer. Amaia placed her hand on his forehead, then his chest, his thighs, his feet.
“The fire has burned low. It may be that it has burned away all there was to burn. The time is almost now. The Master should be here. And the boy.”
She left the room. Akusha looked at the gaunt face of the dying man. She should be in prayer to the Lady Mother, she knew that, but exhaustion was making her thoughts wander. What did he look like now, behind that beard? Why had he come, or been sent, here, to Kallista? Surely, not merely by chance and the heedless whim of the storm? They had spoken to each other in the ancient words. She heard a voice singing softly in those words:
I will cleanse my body of sinfulness
And please the Mother with my sacrifice I will find my place in
Her heart
Bring sweet oil for my breasts
And sow the fertile seed in the Mother’s earth
but did not realise it was her own voice nor that the others had entered the room. Sharesh broke the silence.
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet,” said Dareka gently, putting a hand on the boy’s head.
Sharesh twisted away from him and ran from the room. Before anyone could follow him he was back, carrying Kanesh’s great sword. Sobbing jerkily, he almost shouted at the others. “If he is going to die he must have his sword to fight the…”
Without finishing what he was saying, he drew the sword from its sheath, put it on Kanesh’s chest and placed his hands over the hilt.
The first stirring of the cool evening breeze breathed through the open window. It was echoed by the sound of a deep breath from Kanesh, then another, even deeper. His eyes opened slowly and he looked up at the startled faces above him.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
Akusha felt the rapture of knowing that the Lady Mother had heeded her prayers, and Amaia something similar, but in addition a quiet satisfaction that her medicines had shown their worth. Dareka was not sure about any of this but he had seen that Kanesh was a very strong man, and without doubt, a lucky one. Sharesh knew that the sword had special power because it could save life as well as take it. There was now no need to put it in the secret place he knew. Kanesh was going to live and might have need of it again.
Kanesh began to grow stronger as one day followed another. The angry swelling on his leg slowly faded and he became impatient to get out of his cot and try to stand. Sita, the cook, said that he ate like a starving dog. Amaia came less often and then, on her last visit, emerged from his room laughing and blushing like a young girl. She refused to tell anyone what he had said to her, except that, “Men, especially some men, are just the same as babies, always wanting something from a woman.” When the midwife had left the house, Akusha went into the room and found Kanesh standing by the window looking out to sea. His leg, though mending quickly, still had the stave bound to it to keep the bones knitted together. He turned awkwardly to look at her and she saw distance in his eyes. For a long while each held the other in a steady gaze. She felt him questioning her, and he her spirit’s resistance.
“Am I still a man, that I needed a midwife, my lady?”
“All have need of the Mother, shall I say, ‘my Lord’?” He gave her a sharp look, then quickly smiled.
“A fugitive from the storm, my lady, no more, with no land, no gold, only a cloak, a tunic, my boots and a sword to my name.”
“Ah, yes, your name. My husband hears a distant sound in it.”
“But to you, lady, not so distant? Your husband is a good, shrewd man. He misses little though he says only what needs to be said. I hope he will allow me to be of service to him, and to yourself. I owe you my life, which itself is a thing of small account, but the care you gave me is not easily measured. And the boy, your son, Sharesh: I owe him a great debt and I have made promises to him that I will fulfil, if you and your husband will permit it.
What promises, she wondered? But she said:
“My husband will come to talk with you when he returns from the harbour. The maid will bring you food. I must go now.”
“To the Lady’s House, my lady?
How had she known he would say that? But she said nothing more as she left the room. He had already turned back to the window. A large ship under sail had rounded the point and was making its final approach to the harbour. On the sail was the image of a bee in flight.
***
The ship had been sighted by lookouts along the coast and reports of its approach were sent to the watchtower at the harbour mouth, so Dareka had ample time to prepare for the arrival of one of his employer’s vessels. What he had not been prepared for was the arrival of Merida himself who leaped onto the jetty before the ship was barely fast, staggered because he still had his sea legs, and was kept on his feet only by Dareka’s strong grasp.
“Caught you by surprise, eh, Dareka,” he laughed. “No time to hide away things I shouldn’t see, eh? Thought I was coming from Keftiu, did you? Only joking, Dareka, only joking. By the Lord Potheidan, what a voyage: been away half the year. Started in the Black Land, sand storms and riots, dangerous times, Dareka, but good pickings if you know where to look and who to know. And they still like our honey and our perfume. A long time in Kinaani, stinking place, winds all wrong, but we got the purple dye and plenty of it. The dyers can use it on that new yarn when the looms get going properly. The ladies on Keftiu will fight for it; it’s a lot better from the stuff they make on that windy island near Keftiu. Ugarit, Ramitha, Arinna, tell you about them later. Gubal, Dareka, you can get anything there; oldest city in the world, and the wickedest they reckon. We took cedar and cedar oil back for the priests in the Black Land, and wine, because theirs is piss. And copper, Dareka, we have copper from Alasiya, big flat ingots weighing down the ship, and what a beautiful island, plenty of water and timber. Lovely boys there, you should see them diving. They ship timber to the Black Land and we have some of their ebony on board, the hard black kind for carving. We’ll get a good price for that.”
He paused for breath, looked round, then bent towards Dareka and spoke in a quieter voice, “I’ll tell you something, though, Dareka. Tin. It’s getting harder to find. And the price is twice what it was for the last shipment, and it’ll be even more next time. The mines in Anadolus are all but worked out; they say they’re going through the old tips searching for bits of tinstone left behind by the old miners. It’s serious, Dareka. The smiths can’t make bronze without tin, not the kind we need, that is. Man I got drunk with in Gubal told me he’d heard of another place where they mine it. A long way off. He wouldn’t tell me where, at first, but then he got so drunk he began to think I was his brother, after I told him I was, and he mentioned a name I’d never heard of. Tell you later, when we have more time to talk. Now. I want to know everything. How is that boy of yours? I want to see him. And the Lady Akusha? Have you been keeping an eye on my house by the Lagoon? They should have the roof on by now, with those new tiles we brought all the way from Keftiu, remember? That reminds me. We hit the biggest storm for this time of the year I’ve ever been in just after we cleared Telchina and nearly foundered trying to get back in. This old wanderer was on the point of breaking up, would have done if we hadn’t thrown some pigs overboard to the Lord Potheidan, and the Mistress for good measure. Well at least we poured the blood on the waves. They like that, and we needed the meat. We saw another ship ahead of us, seemed to be on the same course but we lost sight of it when we turned about. Nothing could have lived through that storm. Have you heard of any ships lost these past few days?
I’m beginning to think we need a new ship, Dareka. I’ve seen things they are building into ships in Gubal that would interest you. Potyr, you know Potyr, never takes anything on trust, Potyr, until he’s seen it, felt it, smelled it and a
sked Her – you know, the Mistress, may She favour us – if it’s the right thing to have, well even Potyr said they were worth thinking about. What we need these days is a ship that can carry a big cargo a long way, and fast, and fight her way through if she has to. You know about the pirates in the Middle Seas? They took Kaperon’s ship, the Nautilus, two days out of Hyria, lifted the wine and all the cloth and threw the crew overboard. Kept two of the boys. One got away at night, floating on a plank. Some fishermen picked him up more dead than alive and that’s how we know what happened. The Palace ought to send ships up there and hunt them down, or we’re all going to be ruined.”
As Merida was talking, Dareka’s warehousemen had been gathering on the jetty in readiness for unloading the ship. They knew that he always wanted all cargo stored safely away and under guard in the warehouse before dark. He called up to Potyr the ship’s captain who was standing on the prow for permission to let his men come aboard. Potyr waved assent and gave orders for his own crew to go ashore. He himself would stay on board until the job was done, no matter how long it might take, and Typhis, the helmsman, would stay with him. After that they would make a complete survey of the ship, sending divers down, and if they had to, beaching her outside the harbour to get a better look, and then start the repairs. Typhis had said she was not steering evenly and Potyr was sure she had rot near the keel. He doubted whether the carpenters on Kallista had the skill necessary and resigned himself to the prospect of arguing with Merida when he told him that she needed the attention of shipwrights on Keftiu. He thought if he made the point that it would mean the return of Merida’s wife to Kallista would then be delayed, Merida would agree to the work without much more fuss.
Satisfied that the right men were in charge, Merida was now anxious to get away to his house in the town, to eat, drink and sleep. And wash, in fresh water at last. He suddenly smelled himself and was reminded of the pigs they had sacrificed to save themselves from the storm. He instructed Dareka to report to him in the morning and then went off in the direction of his house, followed by a flock of porters loaded down with boxes and sacks. He himself carried a wine jar that he treated with almost reverent care.
The unloading went on into the night under the light of torches Dareka had set up so that he could check that everything leaving the ship did end up in the warehouse, and that no small valuables were hidden in the thick woollen packs the men used to protect their backs when they carried the heavy rough-surfaced slabs of copper and lighter ingots of tin. When the work was finished he dismissed the men, closed the warehouse door and went to the Harbourmaster’s lodge to make sure that the guards had their instructions for the night. Tired now, but satisfied that the cargo was intact, not a box dropped overboard, not a jar broken, he walked back to the ship for a final word with Potyr and Typhis. He told them what Merida had said about the tin and his musings about a new ship.
“One thing is certain,” said Potyr. “This ship has little life left in her for a long haul. She should be kept for trade along the coast here, or on Keftiu. If Merida wants to sail to where the sun sets, he will need a ship such as has never been built before, and the favour of the Mistress of the Seas.”
“And a pilot to find the course,” said Typhis. “And I know of none who has that mystery.”
“He will want to speak of these things tomorrow,” said Dareka. “We are all to meet at his house at midday.” He was getting up to leave when Potyr said:
“One of your men told us that wreckage was washed ashore here after the storm. He said there was a man found on Red Beach, but no one knows where he is now, or if he is alive. Not a man of Keftiu, he said.”
“He lives,” said Dareka. “And you will see him soon.”
Typhis looked at him. “That ship we saw before we turned back from the storm; she was heading this way. I couldn’t make out her lines, I was fighting with the steering oar, nearly lost it.”
“Short length for her beam, straight stub stern and stem posts, through deck beams below the top strake, water jar strapped abaft the stem post,” Potyr said. “Kinaani-built cargo ship, good sea boats usually; heavy-laden, but whose ship was she? Was the man one of her crew?”
“He has said nothing so far. Who’s there?”
Dareka looked down at the opening to the hold where he had heard something moving about. “Just a boy. He stowed away the night before we left the Black Land port. Makes himself useful and Merida likes him, so we’ll keep him. Come on out of there.”
A slim dark figure emerged from the hold, straightened up and stepped forward, very light on his feet. His black face looked up at the men on the stern deck. He did not seem afraid or shy. He was about the same age as Sharesh, but taller. All he wore was a brief loincloth and a ring in his ear.
“Who are you, boy? Where are you from?”
“I am Namun, Master, from the mountains of Puwenet. Where the great river is born. The river that brings life to the Black Land.”
“You speak well. Where did you learn our words?”
“All people come to the Black Land and I learn words easily.”
“And he can count, Dareka,” said Typhis. “And he says he wants to learn writing. But as for now he has to bale ship; get on with it before I throw you to the fishes.”
Namun’s face cracked open with a mischievous grin and he scampered back into the hold. The next day, as soon as it was light, Dareka made his way down Telchina Street and through the gate into the harbour yard. He brought Sharesh with him. It would be good for the boy to watch how a mixed cargo was checked and all its items carefully recorded on the tablets which the owner needed for his bargaining with other merchants, and the Town Guardian demanded for his calculations of the tax due. This work took up most of the morning with Sharesh scrambling about in the shed and joining with the warehousemen in sorting and re-stacking the goods Dareka named and calling out the numbers to the scribe who was printing the tablets under Dareka’s watchful eye. The finished tablets were placed in baskets ready for carrying to Merida’s house for safekeeping. Although unable to read or write himself, Merida rarely missed a detail when the records were read out to him for checking by the scribe.
The day was going to be hot for the time of the year. Released at last from his duties, Sharesh ran onto the jetty and politely asked Typhis who was looking at the steering oar that had been lifted from its crutch for examination by the carpenters, if he could come aboard. He loved the smells that ships gave off, the salt and oil and the resin in the warm timbers, and the sounds they made, creaking ropes, rigging humming in the wind, the soft slop of water against the hull. Crewmen were scrubbing the deck planks with pumice stone and shrieking seabirds whirled around the ship, diving into the ripples made by greasy water flung out from a baling pan held by a black hand. The same baling pan suddenly flew over the ship’s side, splashed into the sea, scattering a flurry of birds into the air, and sank out of sight. The sound of a boy’s voice swearing furiously was joined by the noise of crewmen roaring with laughter. Sharesh jumped onto the ship laughing as hard as any of them and stood on the hold cover looking down at the slim black boy who was spitting his fury into the waves. The boy looked up, and for a moment Sharesh thought he was in for a fight. Then they grinned at each other and were soon rolling about on the deck laughing like sailors after too much beer. Namun stood up and held his hand out to Sharesh.
“First one to find it eats the other one’s dinner?”
They stripped off, stood side by side on the ship’s rail and dived into the harbour, urged on by the cheers of the crew. Dareka and Potyr on the stern deck stopped talking and watched the boys surface, still laughing and spitting water. Sharesh held up the baling pan and waved. Namun snatched it from him and flung it farther out. They both disappeared again under the waves.
“We must be there before Merida sends for us,” said Potyr. “Typhis will make sure they are safe. And that they do some work with that baling pan,” he added. His eyes had a soft look and the lines r
ound them were not so deep as usual. Dareka suddenly realised Potyr was smiling; not something you see every day, he thought. They left the harbour yard by the great gateway where Potyr made the sign of reverence before the sacred horns, and walked along Ship Street past high walls with jutting corners and into the square in front of the entrance to the Residence, as Dorejo was now calling it, where the Governor had his official lodging above the painted halls in which ritual gatherings and official ceremonies were held while the people filled the square outside. From here it was a short step into Telchina Street near the Dyers House. It was now almost midday and Dareka was grateful for the shade cast in this narrow part of the street, although Potyr, as ever, seemed never to notice the heat. As they passed the gatehouse to Little Labyrinth they heard Merida call to them from his shaded roof terrace overlooking the Square.
When they arrived on the terrace he ushered them to the back of the house where stools and a low table had been placed in the shade under a canopy of plaited rushes. On the table were dishes of olives, flakes of dried fish and figs. Beside these stood some conical wine cups and a spouted jug painted with spirals and purple grape clusters, its surface glistening with the water in which it had been soaked to cool the wine. Merida winked at them.
“Better back here,” he said. “No prying eyes and no big ears over there trying to catch what you’re talking about. Kaperon must be desperate to get in on some new business now the pirates have taken the Nautilus and all its cargo.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the gatehouse and roof terraces of Little Labyrinth across the square where people sat eating or leaning over the low walls to talk to others in the street below. He asked Potyr about the state of the ship. Potyr replied that the divers had been down and one had said he could push his finger all the way into the keel in one place aft, and there was serious worm attack in timbers on the bow side. The sail and one spar would have to be replaced after the damage that was done before they could lower it when the storm blew up so suddenly. The gear for raising and lowering the sail was too clumsy, he added, and Typhis had said she must have a new steering oar. She ought to be beached if they were to get a full idea of what needed to be done. Dareka said some of the cargo showed signs of spoiling: mould in some of the grain jars and damp bolts of cloth, and that must be because the hold could not be kept dry, even when there was no storm. What about the crew, he asked?
