The 22 Letters (21 page)

“Temple maiden,” said the High Priest coldly, “His Majesty is weary of evasions and excuses. You may offer that bird for sacrifice as a token offering on behalf of your family. It is little enough, but it is better than nothing. Is that your intention?”

“No, Your Reverence,” replied Beth. “The bird goes free. He deserves it.” And she tossed the white pigeon into the air and it fluttered off.

At this act of defiance, the High Priest was incapable of speech. Then there was heard a voice that seemed to be weary and strong, gentle and cruel at the same time, the voice of the King himself. He had sat all day on his throne, a silent witness of the ceremonials of the Day of Offering, but up to that moment he had stayed aloof from the proceedings and left the talking to his mouthpiece, the High Priest.

“High Priest,” spoke Abishram, King of Gebal, “let it be known that, deeply as we are touched by offerings such as dried fish and pots of honey, we feel that there may be a time on Offering Day for less ponderable tributes. Horses that carry soldiers on their backs, ships that follow stars, birds that bear messages which girls can understand—these things weary us less than numbering bolts of cloth and flocks of goats. Let the Chief Mason and his sons and his daughter be received in private audience after the ceremony of offering is over, and let that be a time for hearing news and weighing knowledge.”

The High Priest bowed low, but his face showed that he knew he was defeated in his desire to humiliate Resh and his family. Resh bowed low too. His face showed merely that he could not yet believe his good fortune.

There had scarcely been time to find Zayin, to help him dress and prepare himself for the audience, and to decide among themselves how and in what order they were to speak, before the family of Resh were assembled in the pillared council chamber of the palace. The sun had set, and in the hall, now lit with oil lamps, only the high priests and a few councilors were in attendance upon the King.

Zayin was the first to speak. He told of his northward march with the army, of his quest for the monsters, and of how his army had been scattered in the encounter with what they conceived to be six-limbed creatures, part man, part horse. “Most High and Gracious Majesty,” he continued, “your servant fell into the hands of these monsters, and behold, they are not monsters at all—not man-horses, but horse-men. Nevertheless, I have a mystery to relate of them, a mystery which, as their slave and captive, I was able to study and master for myself. It is this. These people, Your Majesty, have learned so to tame and train a certain breed of horse that it is, indeed, an extension of a man's body and limbs, and no longer a mere draft beast to pull a chariot. Such a horse will carry a man on his back at the walk, trot, or gallop, will obey his slightest indication to start or stop, will charge the enemy, wheel and sidestep, leap over obstacles impossible to chariots, run up and down steep slopes—in fact, go almost anywhere a trained soldier can go on the battlefield, with much greater speed and agility. On long marches, the soldier can sit on the horse and not tire himself. In battle, the soldier is free to use his sword or lance, and has the advantage of the horse's height over his foe. These northern tribesmen can even shoot arrows most accurately and effectively from horseback.

“Your Majesty, may we not one day have an army of mounted soldiers to defend your kingdom? I, Zayin, have acquired the secrets of breeding, training, and controlling horses. I place them, and myself, humbly at Your Majesty's disposal.”

Zayin's voice, which had been ringing with enthusiasm for his theme, now dropped and became more urgent. “But, Your Majesty, another thing I learned in the North which is of more immediate concern to Your Majesty and your kingdom, and this I could not possibly have learned unless I had been a captive. It is, I fear, not good news. The nations of the North-East are planning war, and mean to invade the coast as far south as Gebal. This I heard from their own mouths. There is little time to be lost in preparing our defenses, and I beseech Your Majesty's authority to raise more forces in readiness.”

Zayin ceased, and there was silence. Then the High Priest spoke: “Gracious Majesty, our General returns alone from the North with a strange tale indeed. Might we not ask some evidence in support of what he says?”

“Did I not bring a written tablet from the enemy's camp which I gave to one of the scribes?” demanded Zayin. “Where is it?”

A scribe standing at the back of the priestly party came forward holding the tablet and handed it to the High Priest.

“Well?” Zayin demanded. “Is it or is it not evidence of what I say?” And the King turned to the High Priest and raised his eyebrows as if waiting for him to read.

The High Priest hesitated, then turned to the other priests and scribes and there was a murmured discussion over the tablet. When he spoke, there was embarrassment in his voice. “Most Gracious Majesty, this is a most corrupt and unscholarly piece of writing. It will take—ah—a little time to interpret.”

“Let it be done, High Priest,” said the King coldly, “and meanwhile let us hear the second of the sons of Resh.”

Nun then stepped forward. He had been turning over in his mind for a long time how he should relate his story, for it was no simple narrative of exploration, battle, captivity, and escape as Zayin had told. He sometimes doubted whether he had ever spent that strange night on the island of Thira, or whether he had dreamed it. And what should he say about the prophecies of doom spoken by the Chaldean? He resolved to give his account as soberly as he could, leaving nothing out, however strange it might sound.

“Most High and Gracious Majesty, I set sail from the port of Gebal with a cargo of cedar wood, bound for Crete. But at the request of the court I took as passenger a sage of Chaldea. This man from beyond the eastern desert guided me by the stars over the western sea, so that we sailed by day and night without a sight of land. But before landing in Crete we sailed north to the islands, and there we found the burning mountain that stands in the sea, and on it we were entertained by men who told us of the race of Giants that are imprisoned in the burning mountain, and indeed the whole island shook beneath our feet and we were very glad to leave the next day. We then proceeded to Amnisos, discharged the cargo, and at the insistence of my passenger I went with him to the court of King Minos at Knossos. Here we were received in audience by the King, but the Chaldean, when called upon to speak, prophesied doom and destruction upon Knossos, much to the King's displeasure. I was therefore delivered as a sacrifice to the fighting bulls, from which I was only saved by strange northern men with red faces and yellow hair. Fortunately, I was taken to the Queen, who as you know came as a bride from this coast, and she, believing me to be a prisoner, revealed the intention of King Minos to send his fleets to attack your kingdom. I managed to escape from the prison with the Chaldean and we put to sea in the darkness. And though we were delayed by contrary winds we returned to Gebal, guided again every night by the Chaldean's strange star-lore. And all I have brought back, Great King, is this new knowledge whereby a ship may be steered with more confidence on a starry night than it can by the light of the sun itself. But, Your Majesty, what infinite opportunity for exploration and trade may this knowledge offer us! What endless voyages may your adventurers make without hugging hostile shores! To what ends of the earth may the name of Gebal now be carried! I dedicate this learning to Your Majesty and your merchant seamen.” He paused, wondering whether he had made his tale too brief for comprehension, then he remembered something. “And as for the intelligence about the plans of King Minos, your scribes will by now have interpreted the tablet I received from the Queen of Crete herself, giving details of their preparation for war.”

There was more murmuring among the priests and scribes, the tablet with the long-legged script was produced, and the King waited for the High Priest to speak.

Again there was embarrassment in the High Priest's voice as he said, “Your Majesty, this writing is of course known to us. But it is merely an unsanctified code of signs, used for bookkeeping purposes by lay clerks. However, if Your Majesty considers that it may contain matter of importance, we shall, of course, be able to have it interpreted in a few days.”

“Let it be done, High Priest, let it be done,” came the voice of the King, even colder than before. “And now where is this daughter of Resh, maiden of our Temple?”

Beth came forward nervously, clutching a corner of her robe, but when she spoke her voice was steady. “Most High and Gracious Majesty, I have never in my life been away from Gebal and its mountain. But my brother Aleph went away many weeks ago, and took one of my pigeons. Today I found that it had returned, with a message on papyrus round its leg. I can't ask the High Priest to read it because he would not understand—I mean it's written in the signs my brother and I invented, as a game. But look, Your Majesty, even you could read it in a few minutes if I showed you. Only twenty-two letters!”

Not noticing the outraged expressions on the faces of the priests and scribes, Beth had impulsively approached the throne with the little scrap of paper that had come so many miles on the pigeon's leg.

“Look!” she said. “Here's a letter Aleph, that's my brother's name. And here's a Beth, that's for me.” But then she hesitated. “Oh, Your Majesty,” she faltered, “I'm afraid you are not going to like this. I had forgotten what it spelled. It says the Egyptians are advancing up the coast to attack Gebal.”

10

The Dog River

How the Dog River got its name—Gebal withstands the Egyptian army from the South, but the Mitannians break through in the North

“I used to think it was an easy thing to be a king,” Beth told herself as she sat quietly in a corner of the council chamber. “But, poor man, what a difficult problem he has to solve!”

King Abishram of Gebal was no longer the remote, haughty monarch he appeared in peace time ceremonies. He was striding up and down the council chamber with a frown on his face. He was even twisting his fine beard. The council of war had gone on all night, opened by Zayin's fiery proposal that they must attack and destroy all their enemies. Subsequently, many councilors had put other points and suggested alternative plans. Now the King was trying to reach a decision.

“General Zayin, what was it you were saying in your simple soldierly way at the beginning of the meeting?”

“I merely said we should meet our enemies with force. But I see now—”

“You were right, General Zayin. Make immediate dispositions to resist attacks from north or south. And you, Captain Nun, must help to do the same by sea. The council is ended.”

The council members bowed and withdrew, relieved that the long session was over and decisions had been made. But the King stayed, twisting his beard, oppressed by the weight of his responsibilities.

A little south of Gebal is a point where the steep mountains come nearest to the seashore. There is no coastal strip, only a narrow ledge between the cliffs and the water. And at this point, a river flows down a deep gorge into the sea. It is a gently flowing river, and its banks are covered with trees and orchards. Zayin chose this spot to defend the southern approaches. He was satisfied that no better place existed for a small army to resist a large one. The Egyptian troops would have to pass in almost single file along the narrow ledge, and a few determined men could block their passage indefinitely. Besides, it was a pleasant and suitable camp, with plenty of fresh water, and supplies of food could be brought from the interior along the river valley. He was wondering now if it was not
too
pleasant.

The trouble was that the troops did not believe in the emergency. They had marched out full of fight and defiance, singing their battle songs and shouting their war cries. Then they had reached the river and camped. The first night they had slept under the stars with their weapons by their sides. By the next night little shelters had sprung up, thatched with leaves. As the days passed, and no enemy came in sight, a village of little huts had grown up, in which the men had made themselves comfortable.

Zayin, as Commander-in-Chief, could not stay in camp all the time. He had got his horse again—the only horse in the Army of Gebal—and he was able to ride between the southern and northern defenses and inspect their state of readiness. One day he had arrived unexpectedly at the camp on the river and found that whole families had come out to keep the soldiers company—women, children, sheep, goats, and dogs. He soon sent the women and children packing, but he kept the sheep and goats to provide fresh meat and milk, and the dogs to look after them. Another time he had arrived late in the evening to find all the troops that were off duty gathered round fires singing at the tops of their voices and dancing to the sound of drums and other instruments. There was nearly a mutiny when he strode into the circle of firelight and told them to stop. They had listened with sullen faces when he asked them what was the point of lying in ambush if an enemy could hear the noise they made ten miles away. He was sorry he had to shut them up: he was all for a bit of song and dance himself and it was difficult to keep the troops cheerful during a long wait like this; but the defense of the country must come first.

The days and weeks passed, and still the patrols in the North brought no reports of the Mitanni, Nun's guard ships that cruised offshore saw no signs of the Cretan Navy, and no Egyptian advance guard appeared up the coast road from the South. Back in Gebal even their friends had begun to laugh at Zayin and Nun and Beth, asking them what had become of their “intelligence” and their prophecies. The troops themselves were incredulous. Many of them were conscripts, rather than professional soldiers, and they thought of their neglected farms and trades as they waited around doing nothing. Yet they still had enough respect for their General to put up a show of efficiency even when he turned up unexpectedly—in fact, Zayin suspected that they kept a better look-out for his visits than for the enemy. To find out what the state of morale was really like, he decided to make his inspections dressed as an ordinary soldier.

It was night at the southern river. The main camp slept, guarded by sentries who stood in pairs, talking quietly to each other. At some distance from the camp was the farthest outpost, on the ledge between the mountain and the sea, where two look-outs were supposed to watch the track from the South by night and day.

The two look-outs, two ordinary soldiers whose names were Ain and Shin, had in fact found themselves comfortable seats in a niche of the rock from which they could see nothing but the light of the setting moon glittering on the sea. They had kept watch together like this for many nights, they knew each other well, and they did not have much left to talk about.

“One thing,” Ain was saying, “soon as that moon goes down we won't be able to see a thing. Be too dark. Might as well have a sleep.”

“Makes no difference,” said Shin. “Dark or not dark, there's nothing to see. You know it and I know it. Might as well sleep, anyway.”

“You're right. Not a living creature on this coast for a hundred miles—except that old dog barking out there. We're wasting our time. You know it and I know it. Dare say even the General knows it. Keep your eyes skinned for the Egyptians, he says. Egyptians! What would they be doing here?”

“Remember my old granddad saying he seen Egyptians up the coast.”

“In the olden days, maybe he did. There was a real Pharaoh those days. You know what? They say there's a woman rules Egypt nowadays. Reckon we don't have to worry about the Egyptians.”

“Don't know though. Women! They can cause more trouble than anything. Wouldn't trust a she-Pharaoh farther'n I could see her.” There was a pause while he looked at the setting moon. “Wouldn't mind holding hands with a girl and watching that old moon though.”

“Girls! Don't talk to me about girls. You know, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for a bint.”

“What you mean, wouldn't be here?”

“Haven't you heard? It's all over the camp. There's this young woman, see, and she's a witch. Some say she's the General's sister, or something. She got animals and birds that talk to her, and they told her the Egyptians was coming up the coast to attack us. Why else do you think we're here?”

“A witch, eh? Maybe she knows something then. We had an old woman in our village—she was a witch. Cured our old cow though, that she did. She knew what she was doing all right.”

“Well, I reckon this one don't. Else why are we sitting here night after night, and nothing happening?”

Shin suddenly stiffened: “Shh! Someone coming!”

“Can't hear nothing,” said Ain. “'Cept that old dog, barking down the shore there. You're imagining Egyptians, with all this talk.”

“Not that way, from the camp, you donkey. It may be the sergeant.” Shin got up and looked toward the camp.

“It'd be the first time the sergeant's been up this time of the morning for long enough. May be our relief though. Early for once—instead of two hours late!”

The moonlight showed a solitary figure with the spear and helmet of a common soldier approaching beneath the cliffs. Shin whistled, but the newcomer made no sound until he had come up to the niche where the men rested.

“What's the matter with you, then?” asked Shin. “Too hot to sleep in the camp?”

“You two seem to have made yourselves comfortable enough here,” said the newcomer.

“Yes, it's a cozy little kip, see! And nobody can't creep up from the camp without us seeing them,” said Shin.

But Ain was looking hard at the newcomer in the moonlight. “You're new, aren't you? Who sent you up? There's supposed to be two reliefs.”

“Not time to change the watch yet,” said the third man shortly. “I've come to strengthen the guard. Special instructions.”

“What's on, then?” asked Ain. “General's inspection or something?”

“Don't worry about the General,” said the newcomer. “I can promise you if you haven't seen him yet you won't see him for a long while. Anything to report?”

“Anything to report!” mocked Shin. “Hark at him! You
are
new, aren't you. Where have you been—staff headquarters?”

“We don't say as how we haven't slain a few score Egyptian charioteers in the silent watches of the night, like,” said Ain. “But nothing really to report, apart from that. Things are pretty quiet.”

“And if it wasn't for a fool of a dog barking at a jackal down the coast there, keeping us awake, we'd have had a nice long sleep.”

“Had a look down the coast recently?” asked the newcomer.

“Now look here!” said Ain. “You may be new to this unit, but you'd better get used to things as they are. Down the coast there, there may be ghosts and demons and evil spirits for all we know, but there ain't a flesh-and-blood human being, let alone an Egyptian soldier, for a hundred miles. I know it, and my mate Shin knows it, and the sergeant knows it, and all the other silly soldiers as have been sitting on this rock for weeks knows it. And the General himself knows it. Only because of this here witch with the talking birds he don't dare tell the King. All we got to do is make ourselves comfortable, and see that no brass-helmeted officer don't creep up on us unawares, and after a few more weeks sitting on this here rock looking at nothing we'll all go home and see to the harvest, if there is one. So don't you come along at this hour of the night and start making things difficult. All right, son?”

Zayin—for the newcomer was no less a person than the General himself—said nothing. He had visited the post to find out for himself just what the soldiers on guard were thinking and doing. He did not want to arouse suspicion by insisting on greater attention to duty. The worst of it was that he was beginning to have the same sort of doubts about the reality of the invasion. He had seen for himself in the North the preparations for a campaign, and yet no enemy had appeared from the North. His brother Nun was a hard-headed sailor, even if he were a little crazy on the subject of stars, and no doubt he had good evidence of the Cretan threat—yet still no hostile warships had appeared over the horizon. As to the Egyptian's intentions'—all they had to go on was Beth's mumbo-jumbo with the bird and this infantile secret writing which only she and Aleph were supposed to understand. For some reason it had impressed the King, but as grounds for mobilizing an army it was beginning to look a little shaky.

He took a seat in the niche of the rocks and looked at the sea. The moonlight made a path right up to where the moon was about to sink behind the horizon. Little waves broke gently on the rocky shore below them. It was all very peaceful—except when the yapping of the dog disturbed the silence again. It was getting shriller, and more and more excited.

“What's got into that wretched animal, then?” asked Shin. “Why can't it sleep at this hour of night, and give us a bit of peace?”

“Cornered a jackal, like you said,” murmured Ain.

“Yes, but come to think of it what's a jackal doing down on the shore?”

“All right, then, it's a fish he's got cornered, what's it matter?”

Zayin hardly heard the conversation about the dog. He was thinking about his family, about the King, about the High Priest, who he knew would be happy to ruin him and all his relations; he was wondering what would happen in the future if all the talk of war proved unjustified. They would all look fools, and it might, indeed, mean ruin.

“Some folks say dogs can see spirits,” Shin was saying nervously.

“Why don't you go and see for yourself what the brute's barking at, then?” said Ain irritably. “And give it a kick and tell it to shut up while you're about it.”

“You come with me, then.”

“What, both of us go! Who keeps a look-out toward the camp, then?”

Zayin could not help smiling to himself. “I'll do that,” he said. “I'll make sure the General doesn't catch us unawares. I'd recognize him if I saw him.”

Ain sighed wearily and got to his feet. “Anything for a little peace and quiet,” he said. “Though it's a wonder the General lets those noisy beasts stay around.”

Zayin was left with his thoughts as the two soldiers went off round the cliff face. If peace time conditions returned, where did he stand in Gebal, with his father and brothers? A General who had lost an army, a Captain who had lost a cargo, a scribe who had run away, and the father of a family who had nothing to offer on Offering Day. He was so wrapped up in his bitter thoughts that he hardly noticed the two soldiers returning. They, were moving quickly, but with surprisingly little noise; near to, Zayin could hear them breathing hard and thickly, and even in the moonlight their faces looked unusually pale.