Desert God. Wilbur Smith
wrinkle, turn grey and fade away with age? There is something about me that has set me aside from most other mortal men.
This was yet another example of Horus’ favour and indulgence. I whispered my thanks to him and swore that I would make a lavish sacrifice to him at the very first opportunity. Then I crawled closer to where Zaras lay, and tugged his sleeve.
‘I must cross this channel and get closer to the Cretan fort,’ I told him.
There are two enigmas in our very Egypt that I have never been able to come to terms with. The first is that although we use the horse as beast of burden and the chariot as our primary weapon of war almost no Egyptian will ride astride. The second enigma is that although we live on the banks of a mighty river almost no Egyptian is able to swim. If you ask one of them why this is so, they will usually shrug and answer: ‘The gods frown upon such uncouth behaviour.’
I have already asserted that I am different from most others. I hesitate to suggest that I am in any way superior. I think it is sufficient to point out that I am both an expert horseman, and a strong and tireless swimmer.
I knew that Zaras has neither of these skills, although to give him full credit I have never seen him bested when he had the reins of a chariot in his hands. Thus I had ordered him to bring with him a buoy made from the bark of the cork tree to keep him afloat. The two of us stripped to our breech clouts and entered the channel. Zaras had his sword strapped to the cork float. I carried mine on my back. Zaras blew and puffed like a bull hippo, while I swam like an otter and reached the far bank of the channel before he was halfway across.
When he managed to complete the crossing I helped him ashore. Then, when he had regained his breath, we crept stealthily through the reeds towards the Cretan fort. When we reached a position from which he had a good view of the building I realized why the Cretans had selected this site. It was on the highest point of a narrow ridge of limestone which poked up through the soft alluvial soils and provided a strong foundation on which they had anchored their fortress.
This limestone intrusion divided the flow of the main channel to form a moat around the fort. There were a number of different types of vessels anchored in the basin formed by the sweep of the river around the fortress. Most of these craft were mere barges which I presumed the Cretans had used to carry building materials. There was not a single sea-going ship amongst them. The exception to this was the squadron of three magnificent triremes which had rowed past our hiding place earlier.
These were not anchored in the basin, but were already moored to the stone wharf directly below the main gate of Tamiat fortress. The gate stood wide open, and there was a gathering of uniformed soldiers on the wharf to welcome the new arrivals. I could see by the plumed helmets and gold decoration they sported that many of these were high-ranking officers.
In the time that it had taken Zaras and me to swim across the channel and reach our present position the crews had opened the hatches of the leading trireme and a chain gang of half-naked slaves was beginning the task of unloading her cargo. The slaves were working under the charge of a number of overseers who wore half-armour and short swords on their belts. All of them wielded whips of plaited rawhide.
The slaves were carrying a succession of identical wooden chests ashore over the gangplanks. Although the chests were not very large they were obviously heavy for the slaves staggered under the weight. The whole unloading process moved too slowly for the satisfaction of the overseers who harangued and ranted at the working gang.
As we watched, one of the slaves lost his footing while stepping from the gangplank to the wharf. He fell heavily and dropped the chest he was balancing on his head. It crashed to the stone slabs and burst open.
I felt my heart jump against my ribs as I saw the brilliant flash of sunlight reflected from the metallic surfaces of the silver ingots as they spilled out in a heap on to the wharf. The bars were small and rectangular, no longer than a man’s hand; however, there were twenty or more of them packed into the chest. A single chest of these bars would most likely have been sufficient to pay for the building of the great trireme which had carried it across the Middle Sea. All my hopes and expectations had been fulfilled. Here was the vast treasure that I had anticipated.
Three of the overseers gathered around the prostrate slave and wielded their whips with gusto, swinging the lashes from high above their heads to crack against his sweat-shiny skin. The man screamed and writhed and tried to cover his head with his arms. One of the lashes caught him in the face and popped his right eyeball out of its socket. It dangled on its optic cord against his cheek as he rolled his head from side to side. At last the slave lay unconscious, no longer able to protect himself. One of his tormentors stooped and grabbed his heels, dragged him on his back to the edge of the wharf, and then heaved him over the side. The body splashed into the river and sank swiftly, disappearing below the muddy surface.
On the wharf the other slaves responded at once to the shouts of the overseers and the cracking of their whiplashes. The file of half-naked men began to move again, tottering under their burdens as though the work had never been interrupted.
I tapped Zaras’ shoulder to get his attention and then we both crawled back deeper into the reed beds. Once we were safely hidden I led him around to the far side of the fort and the bank of the other branch of the river. It took me an hour or so of cautious and careful manoeuvring before I could find a vantage point from which I was able to overlook the strategic layout of the fort and its surroundings. Now I was able to verify in person the reports I had received from my spies.
Although the walls of the fort were formidable and probably even impregnable, the area they enclosed was not very large. There was a severely limited amount of space on the ridge, insufficient for anything more than the treasury alone, and barracks to house a detachment of guards to beat off any attempt to land by a small raiding party coming up one of the channels from the sea.
However, the Cretans must also have realized that they required a much larger force of several thousand men on hand to oppose any larger enemy force that might land on the coast and march inland to mount a more determined attack on the fort. They had solved this problem by stringing a pontoon bridge across both channels of the river, so that the fort sitting on the island in the centre of the river could be reached swiftly by defending Cretan troops from either bank.
From where I lay I had a good view across the most easterly channel to the flat dry ground beyond. This was where the Cretans had built their fortified camp, which provided barracks for the main body of their army. They had surrounded the camp with a protective palisade of sharpened logs, which stood twice the height of a man. I calculated that this camp would be capable of housing two or three thousand soldiers.
There was a watchtower at each corner of the square enclosure, and I could see that the roofs of the buildings within the palisade were plastered thickly with black mud from the river-bank which had dried hard. These would afford protection from the fire-arrows that an enemy might shoot over the walls.
From the gate in the wall closest to the river the Cretans had built a passageway of dried black mud-bricks to the head of the pontoon bridge. This would protect their troops from enemy arrows when they sallied forth from the camp.
They had used a series of longboats anchored side by side across both channels of the river to serve as the pontoons for their bridge. Over these they had laid a causeway of hewn planks. This bridge ensured that large numbers of troops could be rushed from the camp to wherever they were needed most.
‘They have planned it all thoroughly.’ Zaras gave his opinion as he surveyed the fortifications.
‘That is what the Cretans are most famous for … thoroughness,’ I agreed, but I was still studying the ground, seeking out any weakness in the Cretan defences. Search as I might I could find only one. That was the pontoon bridge itself, but I was confident that I could deal with that.
I switched my attention back to the wharf where the three great triremes still lay moored. I considered the manner in which the Cretans were unloading the cargo of the first ship. I could see that it was not very efficient. If I were presented with this task I would rig tripods and pulleys over the open hatches and hoist the chests of silver up to deck level