The Quest (Novels of Ancient Egypt) Page 20

  ‘I think we can say that, once again, we know each other well.’ Taita gave his considered opinion when she had picked him clean.

  ‘Taita!’ He touched his chest. She stared at him solemnly. ‘Taita.’ He repeated the gesture.

  She had understood. ‘Taita!’ She prodded his chest with a finger, then bubbled with laughter. ‘Taita!’

  ‘Fenn!’ He touched the tip of her nose. ‘Fenn!’

  She thought that an even better joke. She shook her head vigorously, and slapped her own skinny chest. ‘Khona Manzi!’ she said.

  ‘No!’ Taita argued. ‘Fenn!’

  ‘Fenn?’ she repeated uncertainly. ‘Fenn?’ Her accent was perfect, as though she had been born to speak the Egyptian language. She thought about it for a moment, then smiled and agreed, ‘Fenn!’

  ‘Bak-her! Clever girl, Fenn!’

  ‘Bak-her,’ she repeated faithfully, and slapped her chest again. ‘Clever girl, Fenn.’ Her precocity amazed and delighted him anew.

  When they returned to the camp Meren and all the men stared at Fenn in wonder, although they had been warned not to do so.

  ‘Sweet Isis, she is one of us,’ Meren cried. ‘She is not a savage at all, though she behaves like one. She is an Egyptian.’ He hurried to search his saddle-bags and found a spare tunic, which he brought to Taita.

  ‘It is almost clean,’ he explained, ‘and it will serve to cover her decently.’

  Fenn regarded the garment as though it were a venomous serpent. She was accustomed to nakedness and tried to escape as Taita lifted it over her head. It took perseverance but at last he dressed her. The tunic was far too large, and the hem hung almost to her ankles, but the men gathered round her and loudly expressed their admiration and approval. She perked up a little.

  ‘Woman to the core.’ Taita smiled.

  ‘Woman indeed,’ Meren agreed, and went back to his saddle-bag. He found a pretty coloured ribbon and brought it to her. Meren, the lover of women, always carried a few such trifles. They facilitated his transient friendships with members of the opposite sex whom he encountered on their travels. He tied the ribbon in a bow round her waist to prevent the hem of the tunic dragging in the dirt. Fenn craned her neck to study the effect.

  ‘Look at her preen.’ They smiled. ‘’Tis a great pity she is so ugly.’

  ‘That will change,’ Taita promised, and thought of how beautiful she had been in the other life.

  By the middle of the next morning the bodies of the dead Luo had rotted and bloated. Even at a distance the stench was so overpowering that they were forced to shift their own encampment. Before they broke camp Taita sent Nontu back into the papyrus to bring out the men and horses they had left there. Then he and Meren went to inspect the Luo women they had captured. They were still under guard at the centre of the village, roped in strings, huddled together naked and abject.

  ‘We cannot take them with us,’ Meren pointed out. ‘They can be of no further use. They are such animals that they will not even serve to pleasure the men. We shall have to get rid of them. Shall I fetch some of the men to help me? It will not take long.’ He loosened his sword in its scabbard.

  ‘Let them go,’ Taita ordered.

  Meren looked shocked. ‘That is not wise, Magus. We cannot be sure that they will not call more of their brethren out of the swamps to steal our horses and annoy us further.’

  ‘Let them go,’ Taita repeated.

  When the bonds were cut from their wrists and ankles, the women did not attempt to escape. Nakonto had to make a ferocious speech, filled with dire threats, then rush at them shaking his spear and yelling war-cries before they snatched up their infants and fled wailing into the forest.

  They loaded the horses and moved two leagues further along the edge of the swamp, then camped again in a grove of shady trees. The insects that rose as soon as darkness fell tormented them mercilessly.

  A day later Nontu led the remaining horses and the survivors out of the swamps. Shabako, who was in charge, came to report to Taita and Meren. His news was not good: five more troopers had died since they had parted company, and all the others, including Shabako, were so sick and weak that they could hardly mount their horses unaided. The animals were hardly in better condition. The swamp grass and water plants provided little nourishment, and some had picked up stomach parasites from the stagnant pools. They were passing balls of writhing white worms and botfly larvae.

  ‘I fear we will lose many more men and horses if we stay in this pestilential place,’ Taita worried. ‘The grazing is sour and rank and the horses will not recover their condition on it. Our store of dhurra is almost exhausted, hardly enough for the men, let alone the beasts. We must find more salubrious surroundings in which to recuperate.’ He called Nakonto to him, and asked, ‘Is there higher ground near here?’

  Nakonto consulted his cousin before he replied. ‘There is a range of hills many days’ travel to the east. There, the grass is sweet, and in the evenings cool winds come down from the mountains. We were wont to graze our cattle there in the hot season,’ he said.

  ‘Show us the way,’ Taita said.

  They left early the next morning. When Taita was mounted on Windsmoke, he reached down, took Fenn’s arm and swung her up behind him. From her expression he could tell that the experience had terrified her, but she wrapped both arms round his waist, pressed her face to his back and clung to him like a tick. Taita talked soothingly to her and before they had ridden a league she had begun to relax her death-grip and, from her elevated position, to look at her surroundings. Another league and she was chirruping with pleasure and interest. If he did not respond at once she drummed her little fist on his back and cried his name, ‘Taita! Taita,’ then pointed out whatever had caught her attention. ‘What?’

  ‘Tree,’ he replied, or ‘Horses,’ or ‘Bird. Big bird.’

  ‘Big bird,’ she repeated. She was quick, and her ear was true. It needed only one or two repetitions for her to reproduce the sound and inflection perfectly, and once she had it she did not lose it. By the third day she was stringing words into simple sentences, ‘Big bird fly. Big bird fly fast.’

  ‘Yes, yes. You’re so clever, Fenn,’ he told her. ‘It’s almost as if you are starting to remember something you once knew well but had forgotten. Now it’s fast coming back to you, isn’t it?’

  She listened attentively, then picked out the words she had already learnt, and repeated them with a flourish: ‘Yes, yes. Clever Fenn. Fast, coming fast.’ Then she looked back at the foal, Whirlwind, who followed the mare: ‘Little horse coming fast!’

  The foal fascinated her. She found the name ‘Whirlwind’ difficult, so she called him Little Horse. As soon as they dismounted to make camp, she shouted, ‘Come, Little Horse.’ The foal seemed to enjoy her company as much as she did his. He came to her and allowed her to drape an arm round his neck and attach herself to him as though they were twins joined in the womb. She saw the men feeding dhurra to the other horses, so she stole some, tried to feed it to him and was angry when he refused. ‘Bad horse,’ she scolded. ‘Bad Little Horse.’

  She had soon learnt the names of all the men, beginning with Meren who had given her the ribbon and stood high in her favour. The others competed for her attention. They saved her titbits from their frugal rations and taught her the words of their marching songs. Taita put a stop to this when she repeated some of the more salacious choruses. They found small gifts for her, bright feathers, porcupine quills and pretty stones they picked out of the sands of the dry riverbeds they crossed.

  But the progress of the column was slow. Neither the men nor the horses could make a full day’s march. They began late and halted early, with frequent stops. Another three troopers died of the swamp-sickness, and the others had hardly the strength to dig their graves. Among the horses Windsmoke and her foal fared best. The spear wound in the mare’s hindquarters had healed cleanly and, despite the rigours of the march, she had kept her milk and was still able to fe
ed Whirlwind.

  They camped one afternoon when the horizon was turbid with dust and heat haze, but in the dawn the cool of the night had cleared the air and they could make out in the distance ahead a low blue line of hills. As they rode towards them the hills grew taller and the details more inviting. On the eighth day after they had left the swamps, they reached the foothills of a great massif. The slopes were lightly forested and scored with ravines down which tumbled streams and bounding waterfalls. Following a stream, they climbed laboriously upwards and came out at last on to a vast plateau.

  There, the air was fresher and cooler. They filled their lungs with relief and pleasure, and looked about them. They saw groves of fine trees standing on grass savannahs. Herds of antelope and striped wild ponies grazed in multitudes upon the pastures. There was no sign of human presence. It was an enchanted and inviting wilderness.

  Taita selected a campsite with meticulous consideration of every aspect; prevailing winds and the direction of the sun, the proximity of running water and pasture for the horses. They cut poles and thatching grass, then built comfortable living huts. They erected a zareeba, a stockade of stout poles with sharpened points, around the settlement, and divided off one end into a separate pen for the horses and mules. Each evening they brought them in from the pasture and confined them for the night, to keep them safe from marauding lions and savage humans.

  On the bank of the stream, where the earth was rich and fertile, they cleared land and turned the earth. They built another sturdy fence of thornbushes and poles to keep out the grazing animals. Grain by grain, Taita sifted through the bags of dhurra seeds, picking out by their aura those that were healthy and discarding any that were diseased or damaged. They planted them in the prepared earth, and Taita built a shadoof to lift the water from the river to irrigate the seed beds. Within days, the first green shoots had unfurled from the soil and in a few months the grain would ripen. Meren placed a perpetual guard over the fields, troopers armed with drums to drive off the horses and any wild apes. They built guard fires around the zareeba and kept them burning night and day. Each morning the horses and mules were hobbled and turned loose upon the rich grazing. They gorged on it and swiftly regained condition.

  Game was plentiful upon the plateau. Every few days Meren rode out with a party of his hunters and returned with a large bag of antelope and wild fowl. They wove fish traps from reeds, and placed them at the head of the river pools. The catch was abundant, and the men feasted each night on venison and fresh catfish. Fenn astonished them all with her appetite for meat.

  Taita was familiar with most of the trees, shrubs and plants that grew on the plateau. He had encountered them during his years in the highlands of Ethiopia. He pointed out to the foraging parties those that were nutritious, and under his guidance they collected wild spinach along the banks of the river. They also dug up the roots of a euphorbiaceous plant that grew in profusion, and boiled them into a rich porridge that replaced dhurra as their staple.

  In the cool, sweet airs of early morning, Taita and Fenn went into the forest to gather baskets of leaves and berries, roots and slabs of fresh wet bark that had medicinal properties. When the heat became unpleasant they returned to the camp, and boiled some of their harvest, or dried it in the sun, and pounded other items into paste or powder. With the potions they produced Taita treated the ailments of men and horses.

  In particular, there was the boiled extract of the bark of a thorny shrub that was so bitter and astringent on the tongue it made the eyes smart and took the breath away. Taita administered copious draughts to those who were still suffering the symptoms of swamp-sickness. Fenn stood by and encouraged them when they gagged and gasped. ‘Good Shabako. Clever Shabako.’ None could resist her blandishments. They swallowed the bitter draught and kept it down. The cure was quick and complete.

  From powdered bark and the seeds of a small nondescript shrub Taita compounded a laxative of such extraordinary power that Nakonto, who seemed to have rock-hard bowels, was delighted with the results. He came daily to Taita to demand his dose, and in the end Taita limited him to one every third day.

  Despite her appetite Fenn remained skinny and her stomach was tight and distended. Taita prepared another potion of boiled roots, with which she assisted him. When he invited her to drink it she took a single sip, then took to her heels. She was quick, but he was ready for her. The ensuing battle of wills lasted almost two days. The men laid wagers on the outcome. In the end Taita won the day, and she drank a full dose without him having to resort to psychic persuasion, to which he was reluctant to subject her. Her sulks continued until the following day when, to her astonishment, she passed a ball of writhing white intestinal worms almost the size of her head. She was immensely proud of this achievement and took first Taita, then everybody else to admire it. They were all suitably impressed and everyone agreed loudly that Fenn was, indeed, a clever, brave girl. Within days her stomach took on more pleasing contours and her limbs filled out. Her physical development was startling: in months she had made progress that would have taken normal girls years to accomplish. To Taita, it seemed that she was growing and blossoming before his eyes,

  ‘She is not a normal child,’ he explained to himself. ‘She is the reincarnation of a queen and a goddess.’ If he ever felt the slightest twinge of doubt about it, he had only to open the Inner Eye and gaze upon her aura. Its splendour was divine.

  ‘Your lovely smile would startle the horses now,’ Taita told her, and she showed her once-black teeth in a wide grin. The dye had faded until her teeth were salt-white and perfect. Taita showed her how to select a green twig and chew the fibrous end into a brush to polish her new teeth and sweeten her breath. She liked the taste and never shirked the daily ritual.

  Her command of the language passed from abysmal to poor, to good and, finally, to perfect. Her vocabulary burgeoned: she could choose the exact word to express her feelings or describe an object accurately. Soon she could play word games with Taita, and delighted him with her rhyming, riddling and punning.

  Fenn was ravenous for learning. If her mind was not fully occupied she became bored and difficult. When it was grappling with a task he had set her, she was sweet and pliable. Almost daily Taita had to seek new challenges for her.

  He made writing tablets from the clay of the riverbank and started her on a study of hieroglyphics. He laid out a bao board in the hard clay outside the doorway of their hut and selected coloured stones as counters. After a few days she had picked up the elementary principles, and as she advanced he taught her the Rule of Seven, then the Massing of Castles. One memorable day she vanquished Meren in three out of four straight games, to his mortification and the delight of the onlookers.

  With the ashes of the saltwort bush, Taita converted into soap the fat of the game that the hunters brought in. Liberal applications removed from Fenn’s body the last stubborn stains of the dyes and other nameless substances with which her adopted Luo mother had beautified her.

  With further applications of Taita’s sovereign salve and unrelenting persecution, the last of her vermin were rooted out. Their bites faded and finally disappeared. Her skin took on a creamy unblemished texture, shaded to lucent amber where the sun touched it. Her hair grew and at last covered her ears, becoming a shining aureate crown. Her eyes, though still green and enormous, no longer dominated her other, more delicate features but complemented and enhanced them. Before Taita’s doting eyes she became as beautiful as she had been in the other life.

  When he gazed upon her, or listened to her soft breathing at night on the sleeping mat beside his, his pleasure was soured by dread of what the future must bring. He was acutely aware that, in a few brief years, she would become a woman and her instincts would demand something he was unable to give her. She would be driven to look elsewhere for a man who could meet those overpowering female needs. For the second time in his life he would be forced to watch her go into the arms of another, and experience the bitter sorrow of los
t love.

  ‘The future will take care of itself. I have her for this day. I must make that suffice,’ he told himself, and thrust aside his fears.

  Although all about her were fascinated by her burgeoning beauty, Fenn seemed unaware of it. She repaid their adulation with unstilted grace and friendliness, but remained an unfettered spirit. She reserved her affection for Taita.

  Windsmoke was just one of those who came under Fenn’s spell. When Taita was preoccupied with chemistry or meditation, Fenn would go out into the pasture to find her. The mare allowed Fenn to use her mane to clamber on to her back, and then gave the child riding lessons. At first she would move no faster than a sedate walk. Despite all Fenn’s urging she would not break into a trot until she felt that her rider’s balance was right and her seat secure. Within weeks she had introduced Fenn to an easy canter. She ignored the hammering of small heels into her flanks, the loud exhortations and pleas to ‘Hi up!’ Then, one afternoon, when Taita was napping in the shade by the door of their hut, Fenn went down to the horse zareeba and swung herself on to the grey mare’s back. Windsmoke walked away with her. At the gate of the zareeba Fenn poked her with a toe behind the shoulder and Windsmoke opened into a smooth, high-stepping trot. When they were in the golden fields of savannah grass Fenn asked the mare again, and she extended into a canter. Fenn was seated close up behind her withers, weight well forward, knees clamped firmly so that she was perfectly in tune with Windsmoke’s every stride. Then, more in hope than expectation of the animal’s co-operation, Fenn seized a handful of mane and cried, ‘Come, my darling, let us away.’ Under her, Windsmoke smoothly released all her speed and power, Whirlwind following closely. They swept away joyfully across the basin of open grassland.