Egypt (16 page)

‘Is it so clear?' I asked. ‘Can human affairs be divided so simply? Is there not a realm between those two absolutes, where in truth we all live?'

‘Our times are a struggle between the light of Osiris and the darkness of Seth,' he replied, quietly and with absolute conviction. ‘How are you feeling these days?' he added, suddenly solicitous.

‘I feel grief. But the rage for revenge has gone,' I lied.

‘It is just as well. Revenge only destroys the revenger. That is its tragedy,' he said.

We lapsed into silence. The only sounds were the breeze rustling the scrub and the gritty sand, the clanking of our wagons, and the repetitive clip-clop of our horses. The way wound ahead into the shimmering heat of distance, dotted here and there with tiny figures of travellers, and their diminished shadows. I wondered again how quantities of opium could possibly be transported across these vast distances.

‘It is extraordinary to think of the complex system of trade routes which reach from Egypt to the furthest parts of this world,' I said. ‘And how vital they are to our modern way of life, now.'

He glanced at me, wondering about this change of subject.

‘I know you very well, my friend, so rather than speculating hazily on the way of the world, why don't you say what is really on your mind?'

‘Perhaps you will not like the subject,' I replied.

‘If I dislike the subject, I will not feel the need to answer you,' he said coolly.

‘Well, I suppose all these busy and profitable routes of trade and high-level communication must also permit the exchange of other, more clandestine or illegitimate businesses and goods,' I said.

‘I fail to see where this is leading,' he said quietly.

‘The value of anything depends upon demand, and if it is illegal or subject to taxation then even more so. So, take opium as an example. There is a proper and legal trade for the medical profession and the temples. But there is also now a new trade that makes fortunes, perpetuates violence and creates disorder in the cities–a black market, so to speak. What if someone has seen this as a huge business opportunity, and taken advantage of it?'

‘Perhaps they have,' replied Nakht. ‘But I am not sure I understand your point…'

I drew a deep breath, to focus my thoughts.

‘Obviously, to set up a chain of supply over such huge distances requires a complex system of interdependent parts, that communicate with each other in a reliable but covert manner. Communication and secrecy are the most important and powerful aspects of that system. But it strikes me that that also applies equally to the army–or, for instance, to the palace.'

I let that hang in the air.

‘Now, be very careful,' he said, giving nothing away. ‘Is this what you have been pondering all this time?'

I nodded.

‘I am thinking there must be networks of agents in all the key cities and ports… I am thinking the Way of Horus would be the most obvious route for transportation. I am wondering if your intelligence network might not have picked up on some aspects of this…'

Nakht stared at me for a strange little moment.

‘My friend, I must give you some advice. I hope you will heed it carefully, for it is given with great thought and weight of consideration. It would be wise for you to put away such thoughts. It would be wise never to speak of such things again.' He said these words quietly but very clearly.

But then his expression changed from coldness to a dawning wonder. He was gazing ahead, a look of open amazement now on his face, the way he used to look when he was younger, before he became the royal envoy, before he became a great man of the world. I turned to look in the same direction and my eyes were dazzled by a great and glorious brilliance.
The sea
.

I know the sea is made of water, but surely it is made of light, too; for it danced with brilliance, turning one sun into thousands of points of sparkling, ever-changing light. We stood together, our hands shading our eyes as they feasted upon the wonderful vision. I wanted to remember everything, to tell my family what I had seen and felt: the tang of salt in the air, and on my skin; the compelling repetition of the gentle waves that arrived, scrambling up the shore, and then failing, falling back, over and over. And above all the dazzle of light, a wild shower of daylight stars, like a god revealing himself to this world.

Simut and I approached the water's edge. We kicked off our dusty sandals like children, and let the water wash over our dirty feet. It was such a curious sensation! Both deliciously cool, and enlivening. The guards remained standing on a low bluff of sand, staring away, as if pretending to be disinterested–although they, too, must have greatly desired to join us.

Nakht at first refused to approach the waters, but I would not allow him to desist; so I playfully encouraged him, and he finally relented, hesitating as the waves slapped gently, coolly, at his ankles. And so we stood there, in the dazzling morning sun, the three of us, the Royal Envoy to All Foreign Lands, the Commander of the Palace Guard, and myself, Rahotep, Seeker of Mysteries become bodyguard to the royal envoy, laughing with pleasure, up to our knees in the incandescent sparkle of the sea.

We quickly accustomed ourselves to the repetitive rhythm and routine that was necessary for covering the great distances involved. We rose in the dark, travelled under the late stars, and reached the next way station, with its supplies and security, before the sun reached its zenith, to eat, rest and–where there was a water tank–wash. Pairs of young soldiers, lounging in the shade of their little huts, and army units near the villages and towns also guarded the way. Nakht's documentation always carried us immediately through these checkpoints; as soon as they saw it, we were waved on with a brief salute of respect. I remained close to him at all times, scanning the landscape and the horizon for any signs of danger, conscious of my responsibility for his safety.

It was the harvest season; local farmers sold baskets of olives, grapes and pistachios, as well as mounds of wheat and barley at the side of the road. We were well-attended and fed with friendliness and respect. By midday the air grew impossibly hot, but a wind from the sea in the evenings–and a vivid breeze from the highlands at night–cooled the air wonderfully. I felt both exhausted and light, and I slept strangely, with powerful dreams that left a strange sad taste in my mouth. I woke often, because we were always alert. I remembered my family, and my home, and my heart ached for them; but they also seemed small and distant. Often, as I looked ahead into the distances yet to be conquered, or behind along the way we had travelled, the air shimmered with mirages. Out of these, caravans and horse riders arose to meet us, greeting us cautiously, and then continued on south. A strange sensation of unreality gradually took hold of me; I felt the darkness in my blood changing into something lighter, as if every step away from Egypt was turning me into a different man. Into a stranger; a man without a home.

We were soon travelling through a much less hospitable, much more remote, part of northern Canaan; here the few villages that served the Way of Horus were poor and squalid. The great fertile agrarian hinterland to the east had given way to barren highlands, grey and green and white, that encroached close to our path. Beyond them, in the clear distance, I glimpsed mountains far greater than any I had ever seen in Egypt. Instead of farmers, we mostly encountered shepherds and their straggling herds of goats, grazing on the sparse scrub that now covered the landscape. And as we passed through the increasingly impoverished villages, I noticed glances of undisguised unfriendliness, and the abusive chatter of unseen children in a language we could not understand. Sometimes stones from unseen assailants would land near us from a hideout of rocks or grasses.

And as we continued onwards I began to be haunted by the skin-crawling instinct that we were being followed, traced by unseen figures hiding just out of sight. Every gnarled tree, every rock, every derelict hovel seemed to suggest danger; my dagger was constantly in my hand. I might have thought myself paranoid, had I not also noticed the same tension in our guards; they, too, held their weapons ready, and their arrows primed in their bows. Hattusa's two bodyguards never left his side, and I was Nakht's shadow. So a few days later, when the next way station, with its familiar square mud-brick walls, and central lookout tower, finally rose up out of another of the mirages and became real, we were all quietly relieved.

But as we entered through the big wooden doorway, under the crenellated walls, and came into the courtyard, expecting a respectful welcome and some measure of comfortable accommodation, we found the crude wooden furniture had been smashed and broken up; most of it had been burned on a fire which had gone out some time before, leaving ashes that drifted around. A few untethered goats helped themselves to whatever they could find, and the floor was scattered with goat-shit. But most surprisingly of all, the place was full of native people: poor, evidently hungry herders and their families, huddled silently in the shade, gazing at us with fearful eyes.

Nakht was furious.

‘What has happened here? This is a disgrace. Find the captain.'

I found him in his stifling little chamber. He was drunk, curled up in the corner, his head crooked to one side, his mouth wide open, his hands clasped together like a child. His heavy linen headdress, which should have served as his helmet, had fallen askew, revealing his bushy hair. A tame little jackal was waiting patiently at his feet, guarding him; it snapped at me as I approached. This woke the captain, who peered at me with bloodshot, bleary eyes. Suddenly he threw his arms around me, blubbing like a baby. I could hardly make sense of his words, but it was clear he was overjoyed to see me.

‘Forgive me,' he said, eventually, wiping his tears. ‘It has been such a long time since I saw a friendly Egyptian face. A true face from home.'

‘I think you'd better be ready to explain yourself to some less friendly Egyptian faces,' I said.

I hauled him into the courtyard, where he stood swaying and rubbing his eyes at the sight of Nakht glaring at him.

‘Ambassador, please forgive these appalling circumstances. If you will be patient, I will have everything quickly organized for your comfort,' Nakht said to Hattusa.

‘I certainly hope so. This is not what one expects of an Egyptian military garrison,' replied Hattusa, and he retired angrily to the shade, to wait.

Nakht took the captain inside for a dressing-down, while Simut and his men set about imposing some sort of order on the chaos, commanding the extended local families to leave–which they did with extreme reluctance, wailing, pleading and remonstrating in their strange language.

‘I would have thought a place this far north would definitely have a proper set of guards, not just one drunken captain left to cope on his own. There isn't even a mule to carry supplies. It's as if the whole place has been abandoned,' said Simut.

‘Haven't you noticed? These people are terrified of what's outside these walls,' I replied.

‘Perhaps they're only afraid of missing out on the free food and water,' he countered, as he watched his men round up the last stragglers, and shoo an elderly couple away.

‘No, there's something else,' I said. ‘They're nomadic herders. They would only take shelter here out of fear for their lives.'

‘So what are you suggesting?' he asked.

‘I don't know. But I think we should question the captain. And we should make sure all your men are on guard all through the rest period.'

Nakht and Ambassador Hattusa ate and rested in a chamber we cleared for them, arranging the travelling furniture as well as possible. Simut and I settled down outside in the courtyard to a meal of bread and goat-meat stew prepared by a mad old woman in the garrison kitchen who had adamantly refused to leave her pots and fires, insisting in her own toothless tongue on her right to remain. As we were eating our way through the bony meal, and discussing the strange state of affairs there, the captain himself appeared. He had the grace to look ashamed of himself, and had made some effort to smarten up. His heavy linen headdress was now set correctly on his head.

I invited him to join us, and he sat down gratefully, cross-legged, next to me. He looked hugely hungover, but when he saw the wine jug–for Nakht had brought with him what he called ‘a modest sufficiency' to share among us on the journey–his eyes brightened, and a big smile graced his stubbled face. To Simut's annoyance, I poured him a generous measure in one of the crude, cracked mugs which were all the station could offer.

‘Life, prosperity, health! To the King!'

The captain saluted, and then drank the wine, closing his eyes with pleasure.

‘Do you know, to taste fine Egyptian wine, in the company of fine Egyptian men like yourselves, is a pleasure I thought I had lost for ever,' he said, mournfully.