Desert God. Wilbur Smith
during the night, blowing strongly out of the north-east. It drove us onwards so briskly that the spray splattered in over the bows to wet our faces as we stared ahead. The men were in high spirits. Even the slaves who were still chained in the lower decks had responded well to the increase in their rations and to my promise of manumission once we reached Thebes. I could hear them singing even where I stood at the helm.
I think that I was probably the only one on board who had misgivings about our enterprise. All had gone so well since we left Thebes that the men were beginning to believe that I was infallible and that they were invincible. I knew well enough that both these assumptions were false. Even I did not know what we would find when we reached Memphis. I began to regret bitterly that I had been so bold as to alert Beon to our arrival. In retrospect I thought that it would have been so much better and safer to creep by his capital with muffled oars during the night. It did nothing for my peace of mind when Zaras came to where I was brooding at the ship’s side and slapped me on the back with such bonhomie that the blow staggered me.
‘Despite your reputation, I never realized that you are such a reckless daredevil, Taita. I know no other who would have dreamed up any of these escapades of yours. You should compose a ballad to celebrate your own heroics. If you don’t then I may be obliged to do so on your behalf.’ He guffawed and slapped me again. It hurt even more than the first blow.
Although this was Egyptian territory that we were sailing through, it had been seized by our enemies many years ago. I had not revisited this part of the river since my boyhood. This was all unfamiliar territory to me, as it was to every other man aboard, with one exception.
That was Rohim of the Twenty-sixth Charioteers, the Egyptian slave that I had found and freed in the fort at Tamiat. He had been a captive of the Hyksos for five years and half that time he had been chained on the rowing benches of a galley that patrolled this section of the Nile.
He stood behind Zaras and me as we navigated the trireme southwards with sails straining and every oar driving hard. He was able to point out the twists and turns in the navigable channel long before we reached them, and to warn us of hidden obstacles below the surface.
When night fell we anchored for the night. But at sunrise the next morning we were once again under sail and boring on up the Nile. This was the fifth day of the month of Epiphi, the day which I had warned Beon to expect our arrival at Memphis.
We sailed on for four hours until eventually we entered a narrow dog-leg bend that ran between low bluffs. We emerged from this into a straight run of calm water that stretched out for a good two leagues ahead of us.
‘This is the last run before we reach Memphis,’ Rohim told us. ‘The channel turns to the left hand at the end of this strait and the city of Memphis is spread out over both banks directly beyond the turn.’
‘Avast heaving!’ I ordered Zaras. ‘Let the men at the oars rest until we reach the turn. Let them drink from the water-skins. They must be ready to bring us up to ramming speed as soon as I call for it.’ The other two triremes followed our example as soon as we shipped our oars. The three of us continued down the strait under sails alone.
The river was alive with shipping of every type and size; from galleys to luggers and longboats. These behaved in a completely different manner from any boats we had encountered up until this time. Although they gave way to us respectfully, they did not try to run from us. The crews waved and shouted friendly greetings as we passed.
‘They are expecting us,’ I told Zaras complacently, trying to hide my relief. ‘It seems that our pigeon found its way back to its loft.’
Zaras looked at me with unconcealed astonishment. ‘Isn’t that what you planned? Were you expecting anything less, master?’ he demanded and I shook my head and turned away. I find it daunting that men expect me to perform miracles as a matter of routine. I know that I am more astute and wily than most other men, but to my mind luck is preferable to brains and luck is a fickle mistress. I am never sure when she will desert me.
I walked down the rows of benches and here I met the same childlike trust and limitless expectations. The men greeted me with smiles and silly little jests, which I returned as guilelessly. However, my true purpose was to check that the bows that lay hidden under the benches were strung and the quivers beside them were filled with arrows.
With the wind blustering in from dead astern we were tearing through the water and the final bend in the river seemed to race to meet us. Without any semblance of urgency, still smiling and exchanging repartee with the men, I made my way back to my station at the helm.
I glanced over each side of our hull to make certain that the triremes of Dilbar and Akemi were in their arrowhead attack formation flanking us. Both Dilbar and Akemi raised their right arms to salute me, and to signal their readiness for battle.
I nodded at Zaras as we swept into the bend and called out one word: ‘Oars!’
We spread our wings, the feathered blades of the oars skimming the surface.
‘Pull!’ I gave the command and the blades dipped and caught the water and shot us forward, almost doubling our speed. The drummers set the stroke rate, increasing it as our speed built up.
Suddenly we were through the bend. The banks of the river opened on each side of us and the city of Memphis lay ahead of us. The dazzling sunlight reflected from the marble walls and towers, from the domes and towers clad in gold leaf. The splendour of the palaces and temples spread before us almost rivalled those of my beloved Thebes.
Each bank of the river was lined three and four deep with small craft, and every craft was packed with humanity. Their multitudes were beyond counting. Most of the boats were draped with bunting of white and red; these I knew were the Hyksos colours of rejoicing and happiness. The crowds were waving palm fronds in greeting. Their voices rose in a tumult of song and wild ululation.
The wide lane down the centre of the Nile had been left completely devoid of shipping to welcome us. At the far end of this watery highway was anchored a cluster of magnificently painted barges and river galleys. In their centre was the royal barge that dwarfed anything else on the river, with the exception of our trio of triremes.
‘Increase the stroke to ramming speed.’ I raised my voice above the uproar to shout at Zaras. ‘The red barge in the centre of their line must be that of Beon. Aim for it.’
I reached up with both hands and made certain that my silk mask covered my lower face to just below my eyes, and then I jammed my bronze helmet down firmly on my skull. I wanted to be entirely certain that no member of Beon’s court would ever be able to recognize me at some awkward time in the future.
The two men on the steering-oar kept the bronze ram on the bows of our trireme aimed unwaveringly at the centre of King Beon’s state barge. The other two triremes of our squadron held their station half a ship’s length on either side of us and slightly behind us, so that we would be first to strike. Our drummer pounded out the rowing stroke for ramming speed, and I listened to my own heartbeat matching it almost exactly.
The distance between us and the red barge closed swiftly from four hundred paces to two hundred. I could see that the barge was anchored by the bows and by the stern, so that it was broadside to the current. In the centre of the upper deck was a high-stepped pyramid, surmounted by a tented canopy. Under the canopy I could make out the throne and on it sat a large human form. But it was still too distant for me to be sure of any details.
Surrounding the throne was drawn up an honour guard of pikemen, all of them fully armed and armoured. Their helmets and breastplates made a warlike and glittering show.
On each side of the royal barge was anchored a line of smaller vessels. These were crowded with the courtiers who made up Beon’s entourage. It seemed to me that there were several hundreds of them, but it was impossible to judge their numbers with any accuracy because they were packed so closely, and most of the women were hidden behind the taller men. All of them were laughing, cheering and waving. Some of the men were in ceremonial armour and ornate metal helmets. The others, male and females both, were dressed in lustrous and exotic materials of every conceivable colour.