Lion of the Sands

  I felt Naguib’s hand, heavy upon my shoulder. His voice growled close by my ear. “There are great riches here Agi. We must take care. There will be men among us that hunger for these riches. And they will place these riches above any care they may have for their comrades. Keep your eyes open Agi. And keep your weapons near.”

  My skin grew cold at Naguib’s words. As the night cooled around me, our ship moving silently upon rolling seas, I looked about me, at my comrades. Together we had see great perils, fought terrible battles, and sailed upon seas without end. Surely these men were my friends. Was that not so? Naguib’s words were to echo in my mind over many nights, such that my sleep was peopled with strange faces that snarled and cried to me, and I awoke with great weariness and eyes of blood for many days. Had I but known these to be omens. But I did not.

  * * *

  (Here is written the eighth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - 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 Imhotep, Son of Shariff, is at his mother’s house, where she nurses him for he has a poisoned jaw. My brothers Pamu and Suad have travelled from Saqqara, where they grow grains on the banks of the Nile. They sit at the fire and break bread and drink tea with Agymah and Eti.)

  Part IX – The Djinn of Envy

  (Here is written the ninth night of words of Agymah Chahine of Abydos - 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 Paser assist. Imhotep remains in his bed.)

  Our journey south continued, the low green hills of Maroc falling behind. For many days we followed a rocky shore. Gone were the green slopes and golden beaches. Now only dark cliffs of rock hung above the crashing seas, their peaks greater than one hundred, nay two hundred cubits from the tip of our tallest mast, their faces painted with seams of grey and white, or split by deep cracks of darkness that saw no sun. At their foot, the deep blue of the waves crashed against a crumbled maze of fallen rock, white with the droppings of birds, and running yellow with foam Gone were the green slopes and golden beaches. Now only dark cliffs of rock hung above the crashing seas, their peaks greater than one hundred, nay two hundred cubits from the tip of our tall mast, their faces painted with seams of grey and white, or split by deep cracks of darkness that saw no sun. And as did the shore grow dark and forbidding, so did the spirit upon our mighty ship.

  It was now all but a half score of days since we had traded with the tall ones. Late in the evening the Omars and Isesi were sitting on the rear deck at the long arm of the tiller. I sat close by while Naguib and Omar the Centurion leaned against the rail. Minkaf sat on the other side of the rear deck, stitching a large piece of hempen sail. To his surprise and delight Minkaf had found that he had a skill for sailing and enjoyed it greatly. It is indeed a great shame that he did not bring the same skill to his cooking. But this was not our concern, for at the other end of the ship, huddled together under the kitchen sail, Hequaib and a small group of Nubians sat muttering. As we sat and watched, they gathered themselves close together, stealing glances toward us every now and then. Even the Omars, usually the most docile and uninterested of all people, could smell trouble.

  But I knew it was not the smell of trouble that filled the noses of Hequaib and his comrades. It was the smell of the wealth on our lower deck. And wealth or the smell of such will always turn men’s minds. My father Suad often said this and to this day I know he spoke the truth. But six moons had passed of our journey and already we had seen two of our number forsake us and flee. And now the smell of riches swirled through the ship, poisoning minds and turning heads. It would take a strong man to stand against such a potion of disquiet.

  Naguib was such a man. And Omar the Centurion, too, a man of strength. That very night they opened the cabinets below the mast and took forth our weapons and stood guard on the rear deck. And we were indeed of great fortune to be served by men such as these. For had we not, I am sure that they and all we others of the crew would have perished in the days that followed, our lives taken from us to sate the foul God of Greed.

  That night I slept on the rear deck, beside Naguib and the Omars. But I did not sleep well. The deck was hard beneath me and I awoke many times, only to fall back into a troubled and restless slumber. My thoughts were filled with swirling fog, and peopled with demons whose eyes shone red in the darkness, and other forms that lurked deep in the mist, their voices coming in strange tongues, their shapes shifting and reforming, but always menacing. I felt Naguib’s hand on my shoulder in the hour before dawn and I rose, my eyes rough with sleep, my bones aching from the cold, hard timber that I lay upon. Naguib grinned at me. He and the Omars had not slept, sharing instead the long hours of the night at the tiller. And, I knew, watching Hequaib and his Nubian band.

  I gathered my cloak about me and stood at the sternpost. To our starboard the sea stretched dark and flat until it disappeared into the horizon. Its colour was that of rotten meat, black with the green of verdigris, flecked with clots of brownish foam. Though the light was poor, far away, to our port side, I could see the dark shape of land. The clouds hung low above our ship, heavy, laden with rain. The air was wet. A single shaft of sunlight broke the clouds off our port side, carving a golden path to the turgid sea. It looked like the arm of a god. I touched the amulet at my throat and whispered a small prayer to Osiris. When I looked to the foredeck I could see that Hequaib and the Nubians remained huddled under their cloaks under the kitchen sail. They were all awake and watched Minkaff, who had also arisen in the dim light, as he kindled a fire and began preparations for our breakfast. Beside me Naguib snorted.

  “Let’s hope the porridge has some meat in it” he said, his hand on the tiller “Or perhaps some dates.” I saw that he watched Hequaib, and that Hequaib’s eyes also rested on Naguib. Naguib snorted again and looked at me. He spoke quietly.

  “We must watch that man Agi. I thought him a friend, but I see a fire in his eyes that fills me with fear. He now has the hunger for gold in his heart. I have seen this many times. When the hunger takes men they become as thieves in the night, beyond the reason of ordinary men, watching and waiting until they judge it time to strike, to take what they have not earned, and caring not for the hurt or loss they wreak upon others.” His gaze flickered from me to the group of men under the kitchen sail. He snorted again. “And the Nubians?” he asked. “What of them? They are easily led. An offer of gold or beads, of wine or women, and they will do anything.”

  At this Naguib turned from me and pulled on the tiller arm, turning our mighty ship across the wind. I heard the creaking of the timbers and the loud crack as the sail turned in the wind and the ropes tightened. The sails stretched tight above us, filled with the wind. Around us the sea was grey and flecked with white, waves rolling beneath us and beating against the hull with a slow steady beat, like that of a drum. The wind was cold against my skin so I pulled my cloak close around me. Naguib’s voice came again.

  “Keep a sharp eye and a clear head Agi. Watch carefully. I know in my heart that Hequaib has crossed to the dark side. He will strike when we least expect it.”

  With that Naguib handed the tiller to Isesi then lay upon the deck and pulled his cloak about him. He was asleep in but a moment. The Omars also lay asleep against the sternpost, their faces covered, their snores loud. It reminded me greatly of my work as a carpenter, for the sound of their snores was much as the sound of my saw as it cuts the timber. Above me the clouds began to part, bars of sunlight piercing the grey mists, their beams touching the waves and turning the water the colour of burnished lead. The wind seemed to strengthen and I leaned hard against the tiller arm. I watched as Minkaff began serving his breakfast. I could see that it was again porridge, but I saw also that he garnished it with meat and dates. No doubt Naguib would think that a true feast.

  Behind Minkaff, close by the foredeck, I saw that Hequaib and his Nubians sat eating, their eyes still bright
and burning. I gripped the tiller arm with more strength. I would watch carefully indeed. I vowed always to be vigilant, for I knew that a man’s mind could be turned with ease, a strange being, a beautiful woman, a loud voice, and when turned, pay no heed to the dangers that linger at his side. But I was not vigilant. And my comrades were not vigilant. And for this I was to curse myself for many moons, for it all but brought about our undoing.

  * * *

  As it is with all troubles that arise within the life of man, this one came upon us when least expected. Truly, we knew that Hequaib and the Nubians had evil in their hearts. Thus it was that I could find no good reason for our lack of care. But, as always, the seas are filled with dangers, and when that danger came it took with it our thoughts, and in that moment the demon of greed took Hequaib’s hand, and those of the Nubians, and turned it against his comrades. But let me tell it as it happened.

  On the morning of Hequaib’s death, I awoke to a sky of fire. A strange light filled the heavens and fell upon us, turning our faces and the decks, even the sails of our mighty ship, the colour of blood. To the east the clouds boiled black at the horizon, but their tops glowed like the rubies that the priests carry in the hilts of their sceptres, deep reds and purples streaking the sky and the sea. A faint roaring filled the air, as of a distant waterfall. I could see the Omars and some of the Nubians crowded at the foredeck railing, looking at the seas that rolled beneath our ship, their hands weaving strange symbols, their voices muted and fearful. Naguib also stood at the railing, his eyes cast to the south, his head turned so as to better catch the strange sound. What now I thought. What now could it be that comes to test us? I heard my bones creak as I climbed to my feet.

  Our ship moved only slowly upon the sea, the waves flattened, as if pressed down by a heavy hand, the water the colour of the brine in our bilge, green and dark and filled with foreboding, strange smells and swirling shapes. The wind was fitful, at once strong before weakening to a mere zephyr that barely filled our sails. Around us the seas stretched without feature, the horizon hidden in a ruby haze to the east, to the west only darkness. I could see no land. But faint upon the wind came the strange sound. I stopped and looked to each side of the ship but could see nothing. It is indeed strange I thought, for it sounds like the roar of many people, as if from the throats of a great throng as it welcomed its leader, and as it is with the people of Memphis when the Pharaoh stands in his golden chariot as it passes through the streets of the old city.

  “What is that sound Naguib?” I asked. “Is it that of many people? Are we so close to land?”

  For a long moment Naguib did not speak. And as he stood silently at the railing the strange sounds became loud in my ears. The Omars and Isesi joined Naguib and Minkaff at the railing. The Nubians stood on the rear deck, fearful in the yellow light, their skins sickly and pale, their lips wet and shivering on their faces. Truly, the Nubian is a fine and strong person, handsome and tall, his skin so black that it burns blue in the sunlight. But a fearful Nubian? I have not yet seen so ugly a sight. I remember I shook my head in despair. How were we to return safely home if each time we see a strange beast or suffer a hindrance to our journey that we become as weeping women? But my thoughts were swept away in a moment as Naguib leapt from the railing, his face as pale as the moon, his eyes deep and black and filled with fear. He shouted and pointed to the sails.

  “It is the mouth of the sea” he shouted. “I have seen it near the isle of Creta in the far west of the Medi. But only once before and on a day such as this, the seas dark and flat, the sky filled with blood. I have seen it take ships to a watery grave. Mighty ships, even mightier than our sturdy ship, sucked down into the darkness until all were lost, all drowned in darkness and cold.” He pointed again to the sails. “More sail” he called. “If you want to live we must have more sail.”

  But when men are faced with an unseen danger they become as goats. And so as Naguib looked about, shouting and pointing at the rigging and the sails that is what he saw, a flock of brainless goats, milling and fearful, their faces clouded and uncertain, their heads turning to each side. From what was it that we must flee? What was the strange noise? What was the mouth of the sea? Naguib’s voice was filled with fear, and as with a pestilence so the fear spread to all on board. But fear of what? Naguib cast his arms about, his head turning from side to side, his face purple with fear and rage. Then he ran to the foredeck and stood at the bow, his arm pointing to the south. “There” he cried. “There is the mouth of the sea. It will take us in but a moment. Look to it and see your own deaths. Sail. More sail. If you wish to live.”

  And behind Naguib we beheld a sight of horror. For the sea had indeed opened its maw and before us lay a pit of darkness, whirling like the winds that swirl through the desert, filled not with sand, but instead with water, dark and swollen with lumps of foam and the waste of the ocean. As the sea fell into the darkness it gave forth a mighty roar, and spray and wind flew from the pit, white plumes leaping high into the air above us, so that water fell as rain upon our faces. And the roar of the wind and the spray was so great that it drove all thought from our heads, and our mighty ship shook as if a toy of the Gods, cast about on the ocean as if by a willful child.

  As the ocean was pulled into the dark pit, so was our mighty ship dragged ever closer to the precipice. Around me the Nubians gabbled in fear. Again I thought that they cried as if a gaggle of young women, their hands flapping, their eyes rolling, their heads turning this way and that. I knew that they could not aid us if we were to escape this danger. For as we cried out in fear at that terrible sight so did we leap to the sails, hauling with a strength born of necessity, knowing that our fates were with the Gods of the Wind, for if our sails did not fill and pull our ship from this dark current, then our lives were forfeit. The Nubians knelt at the railing, gibbering and crying, their hands tight on the hempen ropes. Even young women showed greater courage than these.

  Our ship drew ever closer and leaned toward the pit, the timbers screamed and the sails snapped, and for long moments I believed that the Gods had forsaken us. Then, as our ship leaned in the water and the ocean howled, a gust of wind filled our mainsail, no more than a breath. I felt hope flow through me as our ship turned, again not more than a hands breadth, but enough that when the next breath of wind came the sails filled even further. Naguib cried out in hope and he and the Omars fell against the tiller, pulling it hard to the left so as to steer our ship away from the darkness of the pit. The roar of the sea filled our heads, so loud that I could not hear Naguib’s shouts and he was no more than one arm span from me. Our ship turned slowly, so slowly that I feared it was already too late. I, too, threw my weight against the tiller and was joined by Mushariff. Together we pushed hard while Naguib and the Omars pulled and, as its timbers groaned, our ship began to turn, the sails swelling white and full as the wind rose.

  It seemed that a full lifetime passed but in truth it was not more than a few moments. For in those few short moments we lived a lifetime of fear, the timbers of our ship screaming as the wind and the water fought for victory. For long moments I did not breathe, such that as our ship settled again upon the waves and the wind pushed us further from the dark pit, the breath burst from my chest with a loud cry. I saw the Omars slap each other upon the shoulder, and I felt Naguib’s mighty fist fall on my arm. Nabob, who but a short time before was gabbling madly with his countrymen and of no use to anyone, not even to a washer woman or a carrier of camel dung, came forward, his teeth large and yellow, his eyes bright. Mushariff looked at Nabob and sniffed loudly, then spat red betel over the railing.

  But then, as we babbled to each other in happiness, the evil Djinn of greed rose behind us. As I reached out my hand to Nabob, I saw his face change, a look of surprise shaping his dark features. I saw the blood run from his brow. And I heard the screams and shouts of Naguib and the Omars. As Nabob fell to the deck I saw that Hequaib and three Nubians had leapt to the cabinets and secured our weapo
ns. Nabob lay at my feet, a bronze axe cloven to his head, the blood spilling dark and red across our deck. I stood above him, my body like stone, as I saw his spirit leave him. It is also certain, were it not for Naguib’s shout, that I might have joined Nabob, for as Naguib shouted and I leapt to the railing, another bronze axe cut through the air by my shoulder. It was Protokei, the Nubian. He fell back as one of the Omars thrust a spear at his chest.

  The battle that took place on our mighty ship that day was a terrible thing. And mayhap it was mere fortune that saved us all from a watery grave. For I am sure that Hequaib and his fellow thieves would have cast us forth into the waters with no thought for our lives. I know this for I looked into their eyes. But the Gods again spared us. In his greed and anger one of the Nubians, I saw that it was Protos, moved too close to the cages and, as he thrust his spear towards Naguib, so did the claw of the mighty Beast pass through the bars of the cage and pierce his shoulder. Protos screamed in pain and fear but nothing could save him. The Beast drew Protos against the bars of the cage and, in the blink of an eye, it tore him to pieces. At this Hequaib and the other Nubians quailed, such that Naguib was able to grasp one of the large wooden pins that secure our ropes and sails, and struck down the Nubian that stood closest. Temsi fell to the deck, his blood spilling across the timbers.