Black Ships (19 page)

I heard Her at my elbow then.
It is easier to destroy than to build, easier to harvest than to sow and tend. The work of generations can be destroyed in an hour’s fire, the building of a century destroyed in a summer’s war. A child takes ten moons to come into the world, fifteen years to raise, and can be killed in a moment. They cannot steal the treasures of Egypt because they do not understand how to keep them. What use to steal the harvest, if they kill those who plow the fields? There will be no grain next year. What use to fire the olive trees? Will they then fruit for the conquerors?

“Maiden?” Hry said, touching my arm. “Are you all right?”

“How shall I raise dead men to plow fields that are fallow?” I said, and they were the words of She Who Had Been Pythia. “How can I restore what is lost? So much is lost, and we are so few.”

Hry took my hand. “My dear girl, I do not know. That is in the hands of Mighty Isis, not in mine. But I promise you this, for the sake of my guest-friends in windswept Wilusa, for the sake of Lysisippa and Priam as well, if there is any knowledge in Thoth’s halls that will help you, it will be yours.”

I looked at him and saw that his old eyes were watery. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you so very much.”

A
ND SO
I began what seemed to be my second apprenticeship. Each morning I went to the Temple of Thoth from sunrise until the sun stood straight overhead and I learned. Hry taught me words of Khemet, showing me how to hold my mouth to shape their sounds. As he did, he showed me the symbols that they draw and how each might sound—word and symbol together, ox and ox, water and water, life and life.

And he told me stories. He told me how Osiris and Set were brothers, and how Set betrayed His brother and killed Him, how Isis searched through the swamps of the Delta for the scattered parts of His body, searching by moonlight in the dark waters.

Hry took me into the temple, into the parts that were permissible, and I watched them robe the statue of Isis in clean linen and anoint Her with oil. Afterward, I knelt with the others during the hymns, and came forward to touch my forehead to the hem of Her skirt.

Later, sitting beneath the date palm with Hry, I rubbed the scented oil from my forehead. “What is this fragrance?” I asked, breathing deeply between my hands. “It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever smelled. It’s like all the flowers in the world.”

Hry smiled. “It’s the essence of roses. They are flowers that grow in the Land of Two Rivers, in what was Mittani and the Hittite lands. They use it there to anoint kings. We use it to anoint gods.”

I
N THE AFTERNOONS
I returned to the barracks where the People lived. There was food enough, but little to do. Neas paced and had the same conversations with his captains over and over. Jamarados went abroad in the city, making trades as he could. Xandros did not, but I was not surprised. At night, I slept beside him on
Dolphin,
chaste as a child beside its mother, chaste as though he were my kinsman. Even so, it was something to listen to his breathing, to talk quietly when sleep did not come. If I wished for more I knew better than to ask for it.

O
N THE FOURTEENTH DAY
after our audience a messenger came for Neas, bidding him to attend on the Princess Basetamon immediately. We went, Neas and I, Jamarados and Xandros, with Hry to interpret, in the same state as before.

In the litter I could feel the muscles in Neas’ thigh jumping with nerves. He smiled at me grimly. “If it goes badly, stay behind me and Xandros. We’ll try to fight our way clear.”

“You are mad,” I said, thinking of the massed spearmen and archers.

Neas grinned at that. “Yes,” he said, and bent and kissed me.

His lips were warm and soft, tasting of olive oil and bread, brushing against mine for one long, endless moment.

And then I looked up at him in utter shock. I had not thought, I had not dared imagine such a thing. Well, perhaps I had, months ago, but with the grief for his wife on him I had put it from my mind. I should have said something. I should have reached for him, perhaps. But I did nothing.

His smile faded. “I don’t know why I did that,” he said.

“Nor do I,” I said. In trying not to sound giddy I sounded instead peevish.

“Mad, I suppose,” he said. “You told me so.” His blue eyes flicked to mine, then away.

“I did,” I said. Warm, so warm, soft golden stubble on his chin. The closed curtains of the litter gave the illusion of privacy.

“I should know better,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”

“No, I expect not,” I said. I hoped he did not hear the disappointment in my voice.

Outside the bearers shifted, lowering the litter in the courtyard of the palace.

“Luck?” Neas said.

“You don’t need luck,” I said. “The gods know you were telling the truth.”

“Truth needs twice as much luck as falsehood,” he said, giving me a cocky grin as he opened the curtains and stepped out.

W
E CAME INTO THE HALL
immediately this time, and there were no other petitioners. Hry walked before us, and he gave me a grave nod.

Kneeling on one knee to the princess’ left was a young man about Xandros’ age, clad in a short white skirt and the striped head cloth that soldiers wear over his shaved head. His upper arm was encircled by a broad band of reddish gold.

Hry began to interpret as the princess spoke. “Hear now the words of Ephi, Captain of the scout ship
Greatness,
which took up Pharaoh’s commission to investigate the truth of the words of these Denden.”

In pieces we heard the story. The vizier of Tamiat had sent three scout ships under the command of his youngest son to go to Ashkelon and see if we told the truth. They reached Ashkelon after nine days of poor weather and saw nothing out of the ordinary, whereupon the vizier’s son said that if he were commanding a pirate fleet he would certainly not be out in this weather, but rather waiting still in Byblos for the weather to break. It seemed to be clearing, so he ordered them to sail up the coast toward Byblos. Two days later they sighted a hundred ships at sea, some of them still setting forth from Byblos, all of them warships and southbound. The fleet of the Sea People saw them, and ten heavy warships separated immediately to engage them.

At this the vizier’s son knew that all we had said was true. He shouted to his captains to make all possible speed and run downwind as quickly as possible, running for Ashkelon or for Egypt. This young captain had commanded the last boat, the one farthest in the rear. He had immediately put about and run. He had seen first the other ship, then that of the vizier’s son overtaken. One had been hit with fire arrows and burned to the waterline. The ship of the vizier’s son had been rammed and boarded.

“We rowed with all our might,” he said. “The wind was at our backs if we turned out across the sea instead of hugging the coast, fair for Tamiat. We did not try to make Ashkelon, just ran straight for Egypt, leaving our friends to die.” I heard the note of grief in his voice, even in Khemet, heard his voice choke in his throat. “We have brought Pharaoh word, as we were ordered. The Sea People are coming upon us with two hundred ships or more, with all the people of the isles.”

I understood enough Khemet now to understand some of what the princess said as she turned to her scribe, though Hry spoke her words that we might understand.

“Take this message for the Son of Ra, my brother, Ramses the Lion of Egypt. The Sea People have made conspiracy in their lands, the Akiawasha, the Meshwesh, the Peleset, the Tjekker, the Sheklesh, the Shardan of the Sea. All of them are in arms against us. They will come down on Egypt like a plague. I shall ready such ships as we have here and send them to Tamiat, where I shall go myself, and we shall await Pharaoh’s arrival.”

She turned then to us, and her eyes met Neas’. She spoke and waited for Hry to translate. “Prince of the Denden, you have done us great service. You have the gratitude of the Black Land. You say that they are enemies of yours who have already burned your homeland, leaving you with nothing but your ships. If we give to you all that you need to repair them, will you take service with us? Will you join us in battle against the Sea People? If you will take service with us, we will reward you generously, and give refuge to all your people. Surely strong and brave men such as you will soon earn much praise in Pharaoh’s service, and I tell you that my brother is generous indeed to those who serve him well.”

Neas did not hesitate. Though he spoke through Hry, his eyes were on the princess’ face. “Great Lady, nothing would please us better than to take up arms against the Achaians and Neoptolemos, for the blood that lies between us is bitter indeed. We will do so with great joy, and will slay them in Pharaoh’s service as well as for our own honor.”

She rose then from her seat, the beads on her braids chiming softly as she moved, for they were wrought of pure gold. In her hands she lifted a broad gold armband, four fingers in width, chased with pictures of a lion hunt. She stepped forward, and taking Neas’ left hand in hers, drew it onto his arm. “Take this, then, as token of your commission.”

“I shall be faithful to your charge,” Neas said, and he smiled into her eyes. “We will sail for Tamiat as soon as we may.”

T
HEY SAILED
in two days. In between there was constant running back and forth. Egyptian slaves brought vast quantities of rations, water, and beer. Most was for the ships, but much was for us on land as well. All of the women and children of the People, as well as a few old men like Anchises, would stay in Memphis, in the barracks of the Division of the Ram. We would not go into battle. Instead, the warships would be equipped as they should be, with fighting men.

The second day four score of archers arrived, lean dark men from the south of Egypt, armed with bows of wood and horn. Their arms were strong and well muscled, and their heads were shaved and gleamed in the sun. They moved as one man at their officer’s command, bows at rest before them, each man the same distance from his neighbor. I had never seen such a thing.

Jamarados looked at them and smiled. “They’re Nubian archers,” he said to me. “Some of the finest fighting men in the world. They come from the great deserts, where a man is not reckoned such until he can shoot a vulture on the wing. They’re going into battle on our ships, to stand on the decks and shoot at the enemy while we maneuver.”

“Do they do that always?” I asked, as they stacked their bows in unison, each placing his quiver of arrows propped against it to the left. “Do everything together?”

“They’re soldiers,” Jamarados said. “They’ve trained for this since they were boys. Each morning they practice at butts in the hills above Memphis. I went to watch them a few days ago. They can fill a target the size of a man full of arrows in less time than it takes for me to take a breath. I suggested to Neas that he should ask the princess to let them come on our ships. They’re spoiling for action, after all, and they can’t swim to Tamiat.”

I had thought that some men might object to Neas selling their swords, and said as much to Jamarados.

“Lady,” he said, “you do not know fighting men. It was all Neas could do in Byblos to keep men from pursuing their honor fights with the Achaians, and none more so than Xandros. Do you think we forget our wives and families? Do you think we forget what we’ve lost? I don’t think there’s a man among us who isn’t relieved to finally have a chance to get some back against the Achaians.”

“Didn’t you get some back in Pylos?” I asked. “Surely that counts for something.”

“It does.” He nodded. “But not enough. Neas knows the temper of his men best. Escorting convoys in exchange for goods is all very well, but this suits us better. I would ten times rather sell my sword to Egypt than be less than what we are. And when we’ve had some back, then we’ll see what’s next.”

“I imagine you could remain in Pharaoh’s service,” I said.

Jamarados nodded. “We could. And not a bad thing. Better than Millawanda, certainly. The pay is better, and I hear from the Nubians that they award bonuses well. Good service and a fair master. Ramses is young, but he’s well thought of. We could do worse than good service with a good king.”

“We already have a king,” I said. “Neas is our king.”

Jamarados shrugged. “Neas says he’s no king. And what has he got to be king of?”

What indeed? I wondered. As long as we had no city, we were not a kingdom, just a bunch of wandering ships searching for a refuge. Now that we seemed to have found one, what did I have to complain of?

Except perhaps being left behind.

I watched them sail at sunset on the second day.
Seven Sisters
went first, Neas at her helm, hair held back with a leather thong. He raised his fist in salute to the People on the dock, the westering sun glinting off Princess Basetamon’s gold bracelet on his shoulder. A great shout rose, and my throat closed. Beauty beyond measure, glory beyond price. Whatever there was belonged to Neas, now and to world’s end.

Dolphin
was last. I stood with Tia, while Kos walked down the ship, singing the chant. Bai looked up from his oar and would have waved if his hands had been free. Xandros was at the tiller. His hair was loose on his shoulders, and his eyes looked far ahead, down the river.

Great Lady,
I prayed,
if he goes seeking You I cannot stop him. I cannot stop him this time. I must leave him in Your care.