The Philistine Warrior (11 page)
At that moment, Delai joined us on deck. She’d just washed her hair and now dried it in sun and breeze; with comb and brush, she spread her long brown locks so they caught the wind; soon her hair was glistening and silky once more. Such lovely hair….
“Amphimachus was just telling me about the battle on
Bloody
Beach
,” I informed her, and pointed to the area where the fighting had taken place.
“I’m surprised anybody knows just where it was,” she commented. “It’s all just a bunch of sand dunes.”
“The Egyptians don’t forget such things,” the High Priest assured her. “After all, we gave them a pretty hard time before they got enough troops together to defeat us.” The battlefield was almost out of sight by then; we’d entered well within one of the river
Nile
’s many mouths. “Besides,” Amphimachus went on, “it was also around here that the Judaeans fought an earlier Pharaoh’s troops, when they fled from slavery; and that was only a couple of generations before Nomion landed here.”
“Imagine crossing Sinai to get to
Canaan
,” I put in. “No wonder it took them so long.”
Amphimachus remarked: “Yes, if the stories about their fleeing Pharaoh are accurate. But wherever their battle, it seems certain that they were shepherded by a great leader, an Egyptian turn-coat named Moses. He was said to be part Hebrew, yet somehow related to Pharaoh himself.”
“That would be the Great God Ramses?!” Delai wondered, counting generations back.
“Yes, the one called Ramses the Second,” he confirmed. “Yes, Ramses II is a powerful god now…and someday he may return to
Egypt
in triumph…or so they say….”
“I hope he brings peace to us all,” Delai commented.
“I hope he reclaims all of his Hebrews,” I added, with a wry grin.
“Not all Hebrews: only the Judaeans ever belonged to Ramses,” Amphimachus said. “The Ephraimites and some others were already settled along the
Jordan River
, long before the time of Moses and Ramses II—and they came from the east, not from Sinai.” The High Priest then pointed to another place on the shore: “I was told—oh, some thirty years ago—that this is the spot where Ramses
Canaan
, and asked no more than loyalty and annual tribute. Of course, we also had to put down the Canaanites, who’d rebelled against Pharaoh; they wouldn’t accept us as lords, even though their ruler—Pharaoh himself—had given us
Canaan
’s land in legal title. And we had to fight off the Danites; but that latter task was to our liking, since they’d been enemies of ours years before, when we both lived on the Aegean coast. Lastly, we had to fight the Hebrews. Ramses rebuilt the fortress of Beth-Shan for the Zakkala and the Sikel people—”
“Near
Mount
Gilboa
,” I commented.
“Yes, and they settled there in
Phoenicia
, north of the
Plain of Sharon
. So we got the five great cities of
Canaan
. The whole story shows why we have this very sacred bond with
Egypt
—and we’re ultimately Pharaoh’s people. That’s why Prince Ekosh has spent so much of his life in Pharaoh’s service.”
“But the other Sea Peoples haven’t been true to Pharaoh,” Delai lamented—demonstrating that Uncle Zaggi’s tutors had instructed her well in current affairs. “I know that the rulers of Dor,
Tyre
, and
Sidon
are rivals of
Philistia
—and they’ve refused to pay tribute to Pharaoh.”
“It’s true,” Amphimachus agreed. “Dor won’t even sell—let alone give as tribute—any more lumber to Pharaoh, as used to be customary, for building ships and even statues of the gods….”
“These are troubled times,” Delai sighed. It was no mere platitude: she and I had both lost family in war, and, in fact, she’d heard of little but war and rebellion in her almost sixteen years. We live in an age in which Pharaoh’s authority is a mere shadow. In a world where there is no king, they say, every man does as he wishes—and every kingdom and city what it wants. Our Philistine cities are linked together by common family ties—and we’re ringed by hostile tribes—so we cooperate; but such an agreement’s unusual. And even we—the five Philistine cities—don’t always enjoy good relations, though we’ve never actually fought each other.
For my cousin, then—and for many others, I must admit—there’s little point in looking to Pharaoh for law and justice. So she clings to her little golden fish amulet, while I cling to my sword. Indeed, her love for Astarte’d been unusually strong since we left
Philistia
. She kept an image of the Goddess over her bed in the aft cabin during our voyage: a naked figurine, hair hanging in spiraled locks, lotus flowers in Her hands…a charm meant to insure the fertility of
Canaan
’s fields and flocks…and of Delai herself. Her coming marriage was much on her mind.
It was good that Delai was so devoted to Astarte, because the Egyptians also revere that Goddess; and so my cousin could, after all, find something in
Egypt
that would seem familiar to her—although the Egyptians call the Goddess “Hathor.” Dagon, on the other hand, isn’t worshiped in
Egypt
, and so we can’t count on His protection there. He does watch over us while we’re in
Egypt
—all the way from his throne in
Canaan
, Amphimachus says; at least he wanted Delai to believe it so. Our High Priest was frank enough to admit that Dagon’s power doesn’t even extend far into
Assyria
—where they do little more than burn some incense to Him on occasion.
I remembered Amphimachus saying once: “That’s why I disapprove of Lord Zaggi’s idea that we should push inland beyond
Canaan
. Our God might not be able to protect us there. He’s the ruler of the ocean coasts and grain fields of
Canaan
; we are His seedlings, and should not leave His land.” On several occasions, he advised us to pray to the Egyptian gods and goddesses while in
Egypt
.
Delai, however, seemed content in the knowledge that Virgin Mother Astarte could follow her and protect her in Egypt—and cause her to please her husband, and bear healthy children for him…. I often heard her pray to that effect—sometimes awkwardly, using the name “Hathor,” just in case our fish-tailed Queen couldn’t remember Her real name outside of
Canaan
! Frankly, it’s my opinion that Astarte prefers to be called just that, no what Egyptians say.
Near the mouth of the
Nile
, we changed over to an Egyptian boat. This craft was much handsomer than our Philistine ship, though no larger. It had one big, square sail of linen hanging from the yardarm at midships—to catch the prevailing wind coming in from the north—and there were thirteen rowers on each side to aid in propelling the boat, since we sailed against the current. The stern was swept up and decorated, but the bow had a more modest appearance. The ship was of shallow draught, with little freeboard: the rowers could even touch the water with their hands. It was clearly a boat for calm waters, and it served us well on the
Nile
. Delai and Rachel’s cabin was aft, near the great steering oar which entered the water on the port side; Amphimachus and I bunked in a cabin near the beam.
Lower, that is, northern,
Egypt
is virtually an independent country, owing only nominal allegiance to Pharaoh at
Thebes
. Therefore, a veritable plague of functionaries required us to stop for inspection, not only when we changed boats near the Mediterranean coast, but also near
Memphis
—where their authority ended and that of Pharaoh began. It was also near
Memphis
that we saw the Pyramids, and marveled at their size like any other tourists. Delai
enjoyed the sight; indeed, despite the heat, she seemed pleased with the entire journey up the
Nile
.
The river’s banks were covered in places by papyrus plants, with stalks as high as seven feet; from them come the papyrus sheets which our scribes use. In olden days, we were informed, Egyptian aristocrats used to hunt among the papyrus for wild duck.
Hippopotami also roamed these banks at one time, but now we saw only peasant villagers, who waved at our yacht as we glided past their fields. The farm
land
of
Egypt
is huddled close to the river, fed by irrigation ditches. As we went farther south, away from the Delta, we could actually see the desert encroaching upon the villages and fields, held at bay only by the annual flood and the irrigation system.
We passed hordes of river craft. There were large, official-looking boats, like ours, and smaller skiffs, some made of sycamore. The smallest boats were constructed out of papyrus stalks—and, indeed, our own ship, although of wood, had obviously been modeled after such tiny papyrus boats: our vessel’s stern was shaped like a bundle of papyrus reeds tied together.
Day after day we sailed south, and the heat grew worse. We could swim in the
Nile
, however, which we loved to do, especially when night cooled the air. But we made few stops for such enjoyment, because we were anxious to reach
Thebes
.
And reach it we did, in good time. Dressed in our finest, we waited on deck for our boat to land. Delai searched the dock for signs of her future husband.
“Pharaoh Ramses the Ninth has reigned for a number of (more or less pitiful) years,” Amphimachus remarked. “Like all pharaohs since Ramses
Temple
of
Amon
. So don’t expect a genuinely friendly reception from the priests—albeit they’ll be all smiles on the surface.”
We’d heard these warnings before, and Delai’s mind was elsewhere. When Amphimachus moved out of hearing, she turned to me: “Oh, Phical, what am I going to do? Prince Ekosh has been married twice, and has had his pick of Egyptian concubines for
twenty years—and here I am just barely sixteen years old. He’ll think of me as a child….”
“But you are a noblewoman of his own people,” I reassured her. “
And
a priestess, and his cousin. Only you are suitable by blood to bear the children of the Prince of Gath, maybe even a future Melek!” Delai didn’t appear much comforted—perhaps the great responsibility, of which I’d just reminded her, now made her fear for her future…and the future of
Philistia
.
