Kiya and the God of Chaos

  Chapter Seventy One: Back to Egypt

  When they reached the harbour, the chariot drove along a row of anchored ships and stopped beside one that looked familiar.

  “Hoi, you three, hurry up!” Kiya looked up at the man who shouted and recognised the captain of the slave ship. He beckoned from the deck of his boat. “I’ve been waiting for you. You want to go to Egypt. Yes?”

  Kiya’s heart sank. The memory of the trip to the island was still vivid. She dismounted from the chariot, thanked the driver, and followed Huy and Laylos up the gangplank. The ship looked very different. The decks had been scrubbed and the awning furled - only the rows of benches and shackles revealed the boat’s true nature.

  The Captain did not recognise them as the miserable slaves he had so recently transported. He treated them with as much respect as tardy passengers could expect. “Make yourselves comfortable. Have you brought luggage? No?” He looked surprised. “Never mind, we can provide you with refreshment on the journey.”

  “That is kind of you,” said Huy.

  The man shrugged. “It is the Queen’s wish that you are looked after.”

  Kiya sat beside Huy and Laylos on the deck and watched the crew untie the boat from the quay and raise the sail.

  “I am glad we are returning safely to Egypt,” said Laylos. “But we are no nearer completing your mission.”

  “Massui did give me one clue,” said Kiya. “He recited a poem that Seth found amusing. She seeks him near, she seeks him far, she’s looking for Osiris’s ka. One of a million it will be, hiding under her favourite tree.’”

  “The ‘she’ in the song must mean Isis,” said Laylos. “But one of a million what?”

  “A tree will produce a million seeds,” said Kiya. “ But there are a million trees in Egypt - which one is her favourite?”

  “I once met a man who had been to the temple of Isis on the island of Ptah-Tchay,” said Laylos. “He said there was a huge acacia tree growing beside the temple.”

  “Why should it be that tree? Isis has dozens of temples,” said Huy.

  Laylos shrugged. “It’s somewhere to start.”

  Kiya stared across the water as they navigated along the shoreline. “How many temples? how many trees? She felt daunted by the task ahead of them.

  Crete rose from the sea like the top of a mountain range and as they sailed along its coast Kiya’s mind turned to the wonders she had seen there.

  “Why is Crete so wealthy?” she asked, fingering the priceless star-metal spear she had been given by the Queen.

  “It is a centre of trade,” said Laylos. “Goods are brought here from all over the world and sent on at a profit. I wish we had been given time to go shopping in the market. Did you see those robes that Massui and the Queen were wearing? I think they are made from silk. It comes from a worm, which is found only in the Orient.”

  “A worm?” said Kiya. “Perhaps I don’t want such a robe after all.”

  They were leaving the shelter of the island and heading out to sea. Kiya expected to feel queasy but the water was calm and the fresh air of the open deck settled her stomach. She was able to look with interest at the dark shapes which swooped in and out of the boat’s bow wave. One of them raised its head and she recognised a smiling fish.

  “Where is Huy?” asked Kiya, looking round for her uncle. “He should see these fish.”

  “He has gone to visit the Captain in his cabin,” said Laylos. “They are drinking beer and playing Senet.”

  Kiya looked at the leather hut that served as the Captain’s cabin. The sound of laughter emerged from its dark interior. “Let us hope we are not the prizes,” she joked.

  “Hrrumph,” said Laylos.

  Later that day the Captain allowed them to share the crew’s rations. Kiya ate salted beef and flat-baked bread and drank beer. Back on the island they would be feasting in honour of Massui, their new King, she thought. But she would rather be eating humble fare and on the way home to Egypt.

  That night Kiya lay on the deck under the stars. She was getting used to the swaying of the boat but she slept fitfully. At dawn she woke and lay on her back staring up at the blue-grey sky. A seagull was following the ship. It became hidden by a high cloud and she realised that it was no seagull but a bird of enormous size. Scarcely breathing she watched it emerge from behind the cloud and swoop downwards. As it passed low over the boat, Kiya saw that each of its wings was like a ship’s sail and the eyes that stared at her were as big as serving dishes. For a terrified moment she thought it was attacking, but it veered away with a beating of its wings. The downdraft from those mighty pinions rocked the boat and Kiya released her pent-up breath with a gasp.

  She sat up and watched the great, white bird fly towards Egypt until it was a dot on the horizon. It must have been a roc, an eagle so huge that it could pluck an antelope from the desert – or a man from the deck of a ship! She looked at her companions. Beside her Laylos snored gently. Huy lay next to his wife, one arm across her waist. He too was fast asleep. Kiya resisted an urge to wake them for the crisis had passed and the bird was no longer in sight. She lay down and gradually relaxed until she drifted into sleep. When she woke in the morning she decided that she must have dreamt the roc and did not mention it to anyone.

  They arrived in Egypt at the same beach that they had left just days ago. A group of depressed-looking prisoners was waiting on the sand.

  While the crew furled the sail and erected the awning, the ship’s captain disembarked and spoke to the leader of the soldiers. They started to argue. Kiya tried to listen but they spoke in Cretan and she couldn’t make out what the disagreement was about. The Captain handed over a scroll, which the leader read. He then shrugged his shoulders and walked away towards an encampment behind the beach.

  “He is reluctant to give you a horse and chariot, my friend,” the Captain said to Huy. “He lost one in an ambush the other day and is getting short. I told him that his mission would soon be over, anyway. There are few people left along the coast and it is becoming uneconomical. Who is going to buy those two?”

  He indicated two prisoners, much shorter than the rest, with bowed spines and spindly legs. Kiya stared at them with a shiver of revulsion. They were naked and covered in grey mud. When they saw they were being pointed at they snarled, showing dagger-like teeth.

  “They look more like animals than men,” said the Captain.

  “They are swamp men,” breathed Laylos with a mixture of fear and loathing. “They say they are cannibals and eat human flesh.”

  Kiya’s interest sharpened and she was about examine them more closely, when a chariot pulled up beside her. The driver dismounted and handed the reins of the horse to Huy.

  “Good luck with your journey,” said the Captain. “Can you drive one of these, Huy?”

  “How difficult can it be?” said Huy.

  The Captain laughed. “This I must see.”

  Huy mounted the chariot with confidence and indicated to Laylos and Kiya to get up behind him.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” muttered Laylos.

  With a clang, Kiya heard the tail gate being shut and looked round to see the Captain’s grinning face as he secured it.

  Huy flicked the reins. “Gyup!” he said. The horse twitched its ears and did not move. “Gyup!” said Huy again.

  The Captain guffawed and gave the horse a slap on the rump that sent it bounding forwards. Kiya hung on grimly as the horse cantered across the sand. She looked back at the Captain. He was waving goodbye, but she was too terrified to return his gesture.

  “Ptah-Tchay, here we come!” cried Huy and he tried to steer the horse towards the road that led from the beach.