The 22 Letters (23 page)

Zayin relieved the defenders again, though there were still men among the first contingent who had been within a few yards of the battle and had not struck a blow—and at the other end of the army, in the gorge of the river, soldiers were still asking when the fight would begin. But from his high point above the pass, Zayin was better able to understand what was happening. What would he do, he wondered, if he were attacking.

“If I were the Egyptian general,” he said to himself, “I would know that my reserves were as the sands of the seashore compared with the handful of grit that is the Giblite army. I would consider that, given an equal chance, one swordsman is more or less equal to another. I would tell myself that as long as my troops are willing to fight and are given room to maneuver, I can wear down any opposition in time. All the same, they've had a shock and a defeat and they won't feel much like going back on that ledge again.”

The unknown Egyptian general down the coast must indeed have been thinking on those lines. When the next attack came, halfway through the morning, it was made by picked fighters from Upper Egypt who advanced in open order, section by section, and fought fiercely and well, giving the Giblites little rest and causing many casualties. But still the ranks were closed by fresh troops from the river, and there was time to carry the wounded and dead to the rear. Each Egyptian attack was met by apparently the same wall of armed men, while the number of Egyptian dead and wounded could be seen by each wave of attackers. One wave was composed of nearly naked black Nubians; another one, in the dead of the afternoon, was of wild men from the desert with fuzzy hair and long lances; but the Giblites, now sweating in the direct rays of the sun, fought on grimly like men caught in a machine. There was nothing else they could do but fight man to man and keep closing up the ranks—until there were no men left to close them.

That was the last attack of the day. The Giblites remained in formation until the sun went down into the sea; then Zayin made his dispositions for the night. He ensured that the outpost was well manned—he hardly needed to tell them to keep a good look-out tonight—and that enough troops were in armed readiness at the pass in case of a night attack. Only then did he realize that he was himself dropping with fatigue and hunger; he could not remember when he had last eaten or slept. He crammed some food into his mouth, stretched out on some dried leaves in a hut, and fell into a deep sleep.

He thought it was a bad dream, that someone kept shaking him by the shoulder saying, “A message from the King. You are to fall back on Gebal.” Then he opened his eyes. Someone was indeed shaking him. He leaped to his feet and reached for his sword. “What is it?” he exclaimed “Are they attacking? Strange!—I dreamed there was a message from the King, saying, ‘Fall back on Gebal.'”

The messenger hesitated, standing there holding a flaming torch, and still breathing heavily after his long run. Then he said, “That was the message, sir.”

“But the Egyptians are here. This is the only place where we can defend Gebal. His Majesty knows that.”

“I am to say that there will be no city to defend, if you do not return within the walls. The enemy from the North are nearly upon us.”

Zayin sat down again, feeling sick and defeated. He might be winning a battle here, but they were losing a war waged on two fronts.

It was nearly dawn. When the army had formed column again and marched off toward the city, most of the soldiers thought the battle was won and they were returning victorious. They left a handful of men to make a show of defense, but Zàyin knew that the Egyptians would soon find out the truth, and would be advancing on the city. He felt in his heart that it was the end of everything.

11

The Darkening of the Sun

The earthquake under the sea—The Chaldean announces that the day of destruction has come—The escape of the people of Gebal—The catastrophic eruption of Thira takes place—The return of Aleph—A prophecy of the greatness of the Phoenician people

The King of Gebal was sitting in a small room of the palace, overlooking the sea and the whole line of coast from north to south. He was talking to a prisoner who stood in chains, flanked by two palace guards.

“General Zayin knows me,” the man was saying. “I was his staff-sergeant in the expeditionary force he led up north. We were captured together, then I lost sight of him. They say he escaped. Me, I was taken to Carchemish, and then to Nineveh. And all the time I was prisoner they were preparing for war. Or maybe they're always like that, the Mitanni. Keen soldiers all right, even if it is all chariots. So when the time came to invade the coast here, they wanted me as a guide, knowing I was a Giblite. What could I do, Your Majesty? I thought maybe I could lose them somewhere, mislead them like. Anyway, I was with the leading unit. Chariots it was, mainly. Ugh! No way for a soldier to travel—give me two feet any time—”

“So you guided the enemy to our land?” interjected the King harshly.

“I tell you, sir, it wasn't a case of doing that. It was as big a shock to me as it was to them when we came across the Giblite army waiting for us that far north. The first battle was a victory for us—I mean the Giblites of course. The Mitanni were beaten back, and ran. Now's my chance to go over to my own people, I thought. But no, they kept an eye on me and I couldn't escape. We followed them, that is the Giblites followed the Mitanni, me still being a prisoner, but that was the mistake, to go after the Mitanni on to the open plains. I reckon if General Zayin had been there he wouldn't have allowed it. Once in the open, the reinforcements came up, chariotry, of course, and our lot—the Giblites that is—was split up and cut to pieces—they didn't stand a chance, foot soldiers against horse on the plains.” There were tears in the sergeant's eyes as he said this.

“Well, then we regrouped and marched south—the Mitanni that is, and me their prisoner. I swear I didn't help them, Your Majesty! As soon as I started recognizing the ground I gave them the slip one night in the mountains—and here I am. Lucky it's slow going for chariots down the coast and I kept ahead of them. If I've had two hours' sleep the last five nights call me a liar! But I'm not
that
far ahead, Your Majesty. They'll be on us any time now, and there's not a Giblite soldier between them and the city.”

The King pulled at his beard and spoke as if to himself. “How do I know you are telling the truth? How do I know you are not sent by the enemy to spread tales to alarm us? How do I know who you are?”

“I am no spy, Your Majesty!” the soldier protested. “Where's General Zayin? He knows me! Ask him!” And at that moment a man strode into the room and the soldier looked hopefully into his face, thinking to recognize the features of Zayin. But it was not Zayin, though the face bore some resemblance. It was Nun, the sailor.

Nun made his obeisance to the King, and before he rose the King asked flatly, “Well, what is the news from the sea? Is it victory or defeat?”

“Neither, as yet, Your Majesty,” said Nun. “You know we set out with a small force of ships to patrol the coast to the north and south. Much as we expected, I spied the Cretan ships lying up for the night in a safe bay. They are a strong fleet. We stood in to land, trying to lure them into the open sea to do battle, and three fast rowing galleys came out to engage us. But night was falling and only one had the courage to brave the sea and the darkness. We boarded her and took prisoners. They say their fleet carries many soldiers, and their intention is to attack our city and destroy it without mercy. Your Majesty, they may be here within hours. We must have all the ships and all the troops available, and we must meet them at sea and fight there!”

The King looked grimly out to sea. “You may have the ships. As for the men, I think there are none left in Gebal.”

There was the sound of approaching feet in the corridor, and Zayin arrived, breathless and sweating.

“Is it victory or defeat?” the King asked, not waiting for Zayin to kneel.

“Victory, Your Majesty!” replied Zayin. “We repulsed the Egyptians with many casualties. But why have you ordered us to retire?”

The King looked no happier, and seemed to be talking to himself. “So, many Egyptians have been killed. It might have been better to have received them with open arms, and had Pharaoh as our friend.”

Zayin stood dumb, incredulous that the news of his victory should be received in this way. “But, Your Majesty!” he said at last. “They came to destroy us! Your orders were to—”

The King was on his feet, looking out to sea, with his back to the men in the room. He interrupted Zayin's words. “The Egyptians have come to destroy us. The Mitanni have come to destroy us. The Cretans have come to destroy us. The gods know whether these three great empires have conspired together to annihilate our city, or whether it is only a cruel joke of Fate that they come all at one time. But what can one city do against an empire, let alone three! We cannot sit and await destruction. We have fought, and shown our mettle. The time has now come to talk terms. Send for the High Priest.”

The High Priest had been lurking near by and it did not take long for him to come. The King turned to him. “High Priest, the three great empires of the world are set on destroying us. What is
your
counsel?”

The High Priest had his plan ready. “Your Majesty, we must, of course, make peace with Pharaoh, as I have always said. His gods are ours, his learning is ours. He will protect us against our other enemies.”

Zayin interrupted, “How can you make peace with an army of soldiers who want nothing but vengeance for their defeat?”

“There are customs,” said the High Priest. “They must be met by an embassy of peace. Gold and jewels must be sent as gifts, and before them must go the maidens of the city and of the Temple, singing and dancing to show that they mean peace.”

Nun spoke slowly, “So we are to send our maidens to take the brunt, since our men cannot do so? And do we ever see our young women again?”

“Have you seen the desert wolves that make up the army of Pharaoh, High Priest?” cried Zayin. “Our soldiers were frightened to look at them. Are we then to send our sisters to cope with them?” Both Zayin and Nun were thinking of Beth.

“It is a custom,” shrugged the High Priest. “If we seek peace, we must purchase it.”

All looked at the King for a decision, but the King was looking out to sea, and his face told them nothing. Nun's eyes, too, turned to the western horizon, expecting the sight of Cretan sails. Zayin moved to catch a possible glimpse of his army returning from the coast and perhaps of the pursuing Egyptians. The sergeant looked grimly northward.

What they saw—and not one of them at first believed his eyes, for each thought it was only an image of his sinking hopes—what they saw was the sea in retreat from the coast.

Quite smoothly and quietly, the calm sea was sinking. On the coast, great stretches of sand and weed-covered rocks were appearing, which had never emerged above tide level before. The water of the harbor was running out of the harbor mouth like a river, leaving a sight never previously seen on this almost tideless coast: ships lying over on their sides in the mud, timbers of sunken vessels and broken stone columns emerging from the green slime.

The four men turned and looked at each other, and knew that they had each seen the same thing. And then for a few moments it seemed as if a giant hand had taken the whole palace and shaken it until it quivered, so that pillars rocked upon their pedestals and great stones in the walls ground one against another. Each of them stood petrified, only their eyes turning from face to face. And then they saw that beside the High Priest was standing another bearded, priestly figure, the Chaldean. It was he who spoke first.

“It is the sign! It is the sign for which I have been waiting. Lord of Gebal, men of Gebal, the day of destruction is here. Flee from your city! Flee to the mountains! Flee, O Giblites, you have but a little time to save yourselves from destruction fiercer than the arms of your enemies!”

The King turned, glaring at the intruder.

“This is the Chaldean sage I spoke of, Sire,” said Nun hurriedly.

But he was vehemently interrupted by the High Priest. “Is it not enough that the earth is shaken and the sea flies from the coast?” cried the High Priest. “Must we also suffer false prophets and imposters in our hour of peril?”

Once again, the Chaldean spoke in a level but urgent voice. “I foretold doom to the Cretans. They put me in prison for my pains and I vowed not to speak again. But, King of Gebal, I must speak now for the hour is already upon you. Your one hope is to abandon your city—”

“And leave it to our enemies from the North and West?” hissed the High Priest. “Who paid you to speak thus?”

The Chaldean spoke back calmly. “What means the destruction of your people and your city to me, High Priest? For myself, I have little fear of death, but I feel no need to seek it within your walls. Those who will take to the mountains with me, let them come. To those who choose to stay, I say farewell, for I shall not see them again.” And he bowed to the King and walked from the chamber.

When all men are in doubt, they will listen to one who seems sure of what he is saying. And for Nun it was the behavior of his element, the sea, and the sickening sight of the ships in the harbor abandoned in the mud that decided him. Besides, he had faith in the sage with whom he had shared such strange experiences. “Zayin,” he cried, “I go to summon our family and take them to the mountain, and all who can may follow me.” He ran from the room, and to the crowd of amazed palace servants and courtiers who were milling around the courtyard he cried out in the words of the Chaldean, “To the mountain! To the mountain! Abandon the city! Abandon the city!”

Remembering just in time that Beth was to be found not at home but at the Temple, he ran to the quarters of the Temple maidens. Ignoring the shrieks of “Sacrilege!” at his irruption, which seemed to cause as much panic as the earthquake itself, he found Beth, took her hand, and pulled her after him. They hurried back together through the courtyard. As they did so another terrible shock rocked the ground and the tall obelisk with the inscription to Abishram toppled from its plinth and broke on the stones of the yard. They ran from the palace gates and down the narrow streets to their home, calling all the time to their amazed neighbors “To the mountain! To the mountain! There's no safety here!”

Standing before the house, bewildered, they found Resh and their aunt and the other women. Nun looked at Beth. She was pale and out of breath, but she seemed to be more in command of her senses than the rest of the family. “Beth,” he said urgently, “see that they pack a few necessities—just food and some wraps, nothing else—and lead them out of the back way toward the mountain. Can I trust you to do that?” Beth nodded, and giving her hand a squeeze he rushed off to the harbor. It was his duty at least to warn the crews of the ships. As he ran along the quays he saw that the water was now returning, not wave by wave as when the tide turns on ocean shores, but welling up over the rocks and pouring back through the harbor mouth in a great surge. He found his own crew, and others standing in consternation at the sight. “Abandon everything!” he commanded. “Save yourselves! There is nothing we can do here.”

“The sea's returning, Master.” It was his boatswain who spoke. “Can't we put to sea—I'd trust it more than this shivering soil!”

For a moment Nun felt the man might be right; but he had lost his usual faith in the sea. “Look after your families, men,” he cried. “Take them to the mountain. Those are your orders. Save the people of Gebal! The rest must look after itself.” And as they ran from the harbor they saw to their horror that the water was not stopping at the high-water mark, but was gradually and with a deadly calm lapping the quays and swamping the warehouses.

As Nun passed through the poor quarter round the docks, yet another fierce shock made him stagger in the street and brought many of the roofs of the houses tumbling down. Everyone was now out of their houses, and he did his best to calm the panic and direct them, by families, to the mountain. Farther on he heard another voice raised above the wails and shrieks of the bewildered citizens, repeating the same message: “To the mountain! To the mountain!” To his amazement it was the Chaldean, standing prophet-like on a flight of steps, urging the population to seek safety.

Nun made his way through the throng to the Chaldean. “Come, sir,” he cried. “Surely you have done enough for the people of Gebal. Save yourself! Follow your own good advice! Let me accompany you to the mountain.”

The streets were so crowded that Nun decided it would be quicker through the open spaces of the palace and the Temple courtyards. The guards had long since abandoned their posts at the palace gates and no one stopped them, but standing in the middle of the great court, by the side of the sacred pool, from which the water now flowed was a solitary figure. The High Priest!

“Will you not save yourself now, Your Reverence?” Nun called as he tried to intercept their flight. The High Priest said nothing as he planted himself squarely before them, his eyes flaming with fury.

“This is no place to stay, Your Reverence,” said Nun. He cared little whether the High Priest saved himself or not, but he could not ignore him.

“This place,” hissed the High Priest, “is the holy place of El, of Reshef, and of Balaat-Gebal. Though all the city, the King included, may choose to abandon it at the word of a traitor, for me it
is
a place to stay. When all is done, this is but an earthquake. I have known them before during the many years the gods have permitted me to live. Three shocks, and it's over, and the work of rebuilding must begin. But this time our enemies will be in possession, because you, Son of Resh; have listened to one who was sent from the East to betray us. May they pay you well for it, Chaldean!” And the High Priest turned his back.