* * *
(Here endeth early the twelfth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos – for Agymah must go to visit his friend Nedemeb who will send him home drunken and unholy and cause him to beat the dog and vomit in the courtyard - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Agymah and Eti, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Pamu and Suad have returned to the fields.)
Part XIII – Safe Harbour
(Here is written the thirteenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox.)
Why is it that I am cursed with these evils Djinns? They take on the forms of women and look in every way as if they are my wife and daughter. But I know they are not. They are demons from the underworld, who have stolen into the land of men and now inhabit the bodies of my family. It is the only answer. Why else would these beings pursue me so?
I am ill, but they tell me it is my own doing. My head spins and my stomach boils as if filled with hot coals and they tell me it is my own doing. My bowels are aflame and my legs can barely hold me as I wobble to the latrine at the bottom of our courtyard. Again they tell me it my own doing. But this cannot be. What have I done to deserve this cruelty? Surely, I visited Nedemeb. And surely, we drank to our health and that of our families. Perhaps we also drank to the health of the Pharaoh and our friends but I am sure that is all. And what of it? We are old friends so it is fit that we meet when we can and talk of all the good things we have shared.
And whenever I visit Nedemeb he is sure to place only the best food upon the table. So last night we ate well as we always do, our plates groaning with smoked goat meat and stuffed dates, with pickled onions and the head of a cow, the skin flayed but the meat tender and sweet as I picked it from the bone. Indeed, a memorable meal, each course finished with a goatskin filled with wine the colour of rubies. But of course such a thing is not to the liking of the evil Djinns. They clatter about, making noises such that my head aches, and show no sympathy for my condition. They say that I am to continue with my story but my head hurts greatly. I only wish to sleep. But the evil one who pretends it is my wife says that I cannot, that I will sit in the cane chair by the door, that I will speak with the other evil one, the one that pretends it is my daughter. Again I have no choice so I drink deeply of the water from the well in the hope that it will revive me and lift my spirits. And so I continue, while next to me the evil creature sits, with ink and sharpened cane and papyrus. May Ra have mercy upon me.
We remained in our safe harbour for many days, all but a score. We fished and hunted, filling our bellies and our storerooms with fresh meat, firewood and fish. We cut small trees and bushes and built racks on which to dry our catch. We collected fruit and berries from the forest and water from the river and filled the barrels on the ship. One of the Nubians captured a turtle and killed it, cooking it in its shell on the sand near the water’s edge. We gathered broken timber from the forest and set a great fire on the sand and dined on the turtle in the light of the fire and a silver moon. We believed that the Gods had at last smiled upon us.
But there was one task that we undertook with sadness. All had suffered on our journey, but none more than the mighty Beasts, whose cages had provided little comfort or protection against the terrible cold. On the first day of our landing I joined Naguib and Omar the Centurion and we walked by each of the cages, feeding the Beasts what little we had left in the storeroom before we ventured ashore. When we commenced our journey on that night so long ago in Memphis there was one score and ten Beasts. Each cage held three Beasts, some elder Beasts, some younger. Now only a score remained alive, ten of the poor animals dead of cold and hunger on our terrible journey.
It seemed that the Beasts in the cages in the foredeck had suffered greatly, for in the first two cages all the Beasts had perished, their mighty carcasses slumped against the bars, their thick hides beginning to soften in the warmth. Four Beasts were dead in other cages. The remaining Beasts lay close by, every now and then raising their heads to lick or sniff the carcass of their dead comrade. So few I thought, when once there were so many. Was this why the Pharaoh wanted to save and transport these mighty animals?
Two days later, having feasted on fish and pig meat, our strength had returned, as had that of the living Beasts who fed well on the pigs we hunted in the river valley. The dead Beasts were beginning to rot, a thick rich odour that smelled much as does the stables behind Naguib’s house in Memphis. As we sat on the sand near the mouth of the river, Naguib and Omar told us of their plan. They told us that all the dead Beasts must be taken from the cages and cast into the sea. Of course, this was not difficult to do if all the Beasts were dead, as they were in the first two of the cages. But what of the other cages, where two fierce animals remained alive alongside the one that had died? How were we to take the dead one without allowing the others to attack us?
And we did not doubt for even a moment that the Beasts would attack, should anyone venture too near, even if those that remained were weak and wasted after so many days at sea. All recalled Protos, the Nubian, and though none spared him a thought of pity for his plans to kill and steal, still everyone remembered with horror the manner of his death, when in venturing to close to the cage he was dragged against its bars and torn limb from limb by one of the Beasts. No. The Gods may have chosen to smile upon us but it would not do to test their patience. How were we to move those Beasts that were dead but within the cage with other live Beasts? We thought upon this for a good while, our feet dipped in the cool waters as we sat upon the warm sand. This was truly a beautiful place and it was at this time that Naguib asked of Omar the Centurion if this could be the land of Gond. I felt a shiver in my chest. Could it be? It was true we had been at sea for many days. But could this really be the distant land of Gond? What did it look like? What sort of peoples dwelt here? What sort of animals?
But Omar stroked his beard and said this was not the land of Gond. He said that the Pharaoh had instructed us to go forth to the land of Gond, and that we would know it as our land when we came upon it. The Pharaoh said it would be bountiful, with fish and game aplenty, that there would be clear, sweet water that flowed without end. I recall that I looked around me, for this safe harbour had all of these things. But Naguib said again that it was not so, that this was not the land of Gond. We will know he said, we will know, and pointed at the cages of dead Beasts. The land of Gond can wait he said. This we must deal with today.
* * *
Naguib called all men to the ship, where we gathered below the foredeck, standing upon a main deck that leaned heavily in the low tide. Behind us, stretching to the rear of the ship, were the cages of the Beasts. In the first two cages all Beasts were dead. Our task was to move these mighty carcasses from the cages to the sandy beach where the Nubians had already constructed a pile of thick wooden logs. We would lay the carcasses one atop the other and pile them with logs and cooking oil. Then we would light the pyre. But before we opened the cages where the dead Beasts lay we took our spears and prodded each carcass. Naguib said it was best that we be sure that the Beasts were dead. He said that if we were to venture into the cage and find a Beast alive then it may be a little unpleasant. I recall that I looked at him with interest when he said this. Unpleasant? I had little doubt it would be far worse but Naguib sometimes was a man of few words.
All morning we toiled, dragging the huge carcasses from the cages at the front of the ship. Each dead Beast was heavier that six camels and we needed all our strength to move each one. With the exception of Naguib, who watched from the foredeck, all came to assist. We cut a half score of trees from the forest at the edge of the river, trimming the logs and placing them against the side of the ship to form a sturdy ramp. We attached thick hempen ropes to each of the dead animals and hauled until the first two cages were empty and all six animals lay on the sand, their bodies piled with logs and broken timbers. Minkaf cast oil upon the logs and f
ired the pyre with his fire shoe.
We watched in silence as the fire grew, the logs burning orange in the sunlight, a pale smoke rising into the blue sky. But we did not tarry for Naguib wished to complete the task. There remained four more dead Beasts, one in each of the remaining four cages. And in each cage, two living animals. We had yet to solve this problem and sat for a long while on the sand while we considered what we should do. Again it was Mashane, the young pale skinned Nubian, who came forward. He spoke with Omar the Centurion who clapped his hands together and jumped to his feet. Of course he cried. So simple. And he told us of Mashane’s plan.
Each of the cages must be turned toward the other, such that the door of each was close against the door of the other. Then we were to open each door, using our spears to release the bolts. We were fortunate indeed that the doors opened equally on both the inside and outside of the cages. Mashane said that when we had opened the doors, it would be a simple task to force the living Beasts into the other cage and then to again close each door. Only then could we safely take the dead Beast from its cage and transport it to the sandy beach. And, when we had done this, we could return the cage to its original position and force the living Beasts back to the other cage, again leaving only one cage with the living and one with the dead. It was indeed a simple plan.
Our final task was completed before nightfall and as the sun sank below the trees and the light dimmed to a soft purple, we sat in the cool sand. The orange flames of the fires burned high, sparks leaping into the night. We had fought these mighty animals and many had died. But we had travelled far, far from our home and, I think, far from the home of the Beast. I touched my amulet and prayed that the Gods take the spirits of the mighty Beasts into the heavens, where they might find their home and roam unfettered for all time.
* * *
Minkaf woke us early with a clattering in the kitchen and the smell of freshly cooked meat. We sat on the deck watching the sun creep over the horizon, a thin mist stirring at the mouth of the river, birds with long legs stepping in the shallows, spearing fish with their sharp beaks. It was a truly beautiful harbour, sheltered from the storms and with sweet water and plentiful food. I was sorry that we were to leave this place. Again we breakfasted on pig, garnished with leaves that gave off a sweet sharp smell. Minkaf also ground berries, making a flour that he used to cook small cakes of bread. This bread had a strange taste but when dipped in the juices of the meat it would fit the table of the Pharaoh. Our memories of cold porridge and weevils seemed but a distant dream.
But the sun had barely cleared the horizon when Naguib and Omar the Centurion were among us clapping their hands and shouting. Our ship was sturdy and strong and built from the strongest timber, that of the Tamarix. Even so, there was much that required repair. In truth, when we looked up at our ship while we stood on the sandy beach, our mouths opened in amazement. Yes, our ship was indeed large and sturdy but did now look as if broken and abandoned, its sails blackened with ash, some torn and tattered, the railings broken and shattered in the storms and cold of the southern ocean, many of the huge Tamarix timbers that ran the length of the ship cracked or split, the tar falling from the seams, the cabinets at the base of the main mast cracked and leaking, the ropes and rigging a reminder of the vines that hung in the forest behind us. Nothing remained of the tidy vessel that Naguib had taken through the Pillars of Hercules. Yes, truly, it was a ship in need of repair.
And so it was for another half score of days that we toiled in the hot sun in the safe harbour. We hauled the ship closer to the shore on the mid-tide. We brought logs to the ship for our repairs and gathered sap from the trees of the forest. This we mixed with sawdust and used it to seal the decks. And we gathered green saplings from the banks of the river and carved these into wooden pegs that we dried in the sun before fitting them to the railings. The trees of the forest gave us a fine red timber. It was of even grain, of bright colour, and perhaps the best timber I have worked with in all my years as a furniture maker. Even the timber taken from long dead trees did not show the damage of insects, so mayhap a man might take it with him to the Afterlife. We hewed the timber to make doors for the broken cabinets and used it to repair the latrines and the steps from the lower decks. I took many logs and stored these below the main deck in the now empty goats’ quarters. It was easy to hew and shape and would make fine carvings. The Gods willing, I would take this timber with me to my homeland, there to make fine furniture.
And when all repairs had been completed we rubbed all of the timbers with the fat of the pigs we had captured and eaten, turning the timber a rich red where new, and a darker colour, almost black, where the Tamarix was old and weathered. But for our sails and ropes we could do little. These were made from the finest hemp, grown of the reeds of the Nile. There was nothing stronger, but even so the sails were torn and the ropes frayed and split, some even damaged by our own hatchets as we toiled to cut away the ice. We repaired what we could. In the failing sunlight of our ninth day we completed our tasks. The ship lay in shallow water, its bottom grounded on soft white sand, the orange glow of the sunset painting it a ship of many colours, the timbers a patchwork of red and black, the sails a feast of golden cloth, the cages black and forbidding. Our task was complete. It was time to go.
* * *
That night, as we lay on the deck of the ship, the air warm about us, our bellies filled with fresh turtle meat and fruit from the forest, we talked of home. Naguib talked of his betrothed, who in truth was an ugly woman, though I had spoken with her and I knew her to be of good temper and strong character. Of course I did not say so to Naguib. Isesi sat nearby and chattered of his goats. The Omars talked of food, of oatmeal cakes and sweetbreads, of dates stuffed with almonds and bathed in honey. Minkaf talked of his mother and his father and of his brothers and sisters. They were many and he wished to see them again. Mushariff chewed the betel leaf and was silent. Never had he spoken of his family.
I did not speak much that evening. I thought deeply of my parents and of my brothers. I missed them greatly but I felt in my heart that I would see them again. I knew I must, for I still had a debt of five shekels that I must repay to Kanefer. I also wondered what land this was that we had chanced upon. Could it be the land of Gond? It was far from our home, just as the Pharaoh had said. Was it time to release the mighty Beasts? I put this question to Naguib. But Naguib shook his head and turned to Omar the Centurion who also shook his head. The Pharaoh had said that we would know when we have reached the land of Gond, that we will see it as our own country. He cast his hands about, asking us to look around us. Did we see the golden sands of our home? Did we see the date palms, the goats, the yellowed mud brick of the houses? Did we see the reeds that cloaked the banks of the Nile, the fields of green corn, the camels?
Of course we did not see these things. This strange land was heavy with forest, the trees taller than any I had seen, some more than one hundred cubits in height, greater by far than the masts of our ship. But nowhere could I see a palm tree. And the sands of its beaches were broad and white but nowhere did we see the rich yellow dunes of our homeland. And the reeds at the edge of the river were but puny when compared to the tall fronds that grew along the banks of the Nile. And the only animal we had seen was the runtish short-legged pig, which seemed to be in great abundance. It was humourous to behold but of churlish nature. No. Nowhere did we see things that reminded us of our home
Naguib said that we must continue our journey, that we would leave on the following day on the first tide. Our storerooms were filled with game and fruits and berries. Our water barrels were overflowing with the fresh sweet water from the river. He said that we would continue to sail with the coast to our port side. Naguib did not know how far we had yet to travel to reach the land of Gond, but he was a man of confidence and strength of spirit. When Naguib spoke my heart rested. But little did we know the strange things we would see and hear when we awoke in this quiet paradise. Yet again the Gods would sport wit
h us, casting without care the dice of our lives. And yet again they would speed us on our way with our eyes wide and staring, our thoughts tumbling in confusion. For this was indeed a strange, strange land.
* * *
(Here endeth the thirteenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos –- scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, at the house of Khuyb, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Imhotep has made tea but it smells of camel dung and Nile mud. He is in grave need of a wife.)
Part XIV – Of Golden Isles
(Here is written the fourteenth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - scribed by Khuyb, Daughter of Agymah, in the City of Memphis in the fourth year of the Ox. Pamu has returned as the river has swollen and spills across the fields. He grinds ink and prepares papyrus.)
My daughter is indeed her mother’s child, sharp of wit and dark of eye, with a mind that seeks always to better itself. I have had her beside me when we barter our furniture and always she exceeds my expectations. I believe she is a good business woman and, indeed, the better of the many men that come through our door, including Imhotep who, truth be known, I now think of as having the mind of a sheep. For this I receive a beady stare. I wonder at her interest in Imhotep, for his mind, though filled with business cunning, does not match that of Khuyb. But that is a decision that only she can make. Never have I had an understanding of the ways of the heart and I have accepted that this will ever be. I believe this is another truth of nature. My daughter nods and I see that she agrees with me.