The Quest (Novels of Ancient Egypt) Read online

  ‘I shall be saddened by our parting,’ Taita told him. ‘What of you, Nakonto? Will you leave us also?’

  ‘Nay, old man. Your medicines are pleasing to my bowels. Furthermore, there is good food and good fighting to be had in your company. I prefer it to that of many wives and their squalling brats. I have grown accustomed to living without such encumbrances. I will travel on with you.’

  They camped for three days beside Nontu’s village, an assembly of several hundred large conical huts, beautifully thatched and laid out in a circle around the extensive cattle kraals where each night the herds were penned. There, the herdsmen milked the cows, then drew blood from one of the large veins in each beast’s neck. This seemed to be their only food, as they planted no crops. The men and even the women were inordinately tall, but slender and graceful. Despite their tribal tattoos the younger women were nubile and pleasing to look upon. They gathered round the camp in giggling gaggles, ogling the troopers brazenly.

  On the third day they bade farewell to Nontu, and were preparing for the departure when five troopers came in a delegation to Meren. Each led by the hand a naked Shilluk maiden, who towered over her escort.

  ‘We wish to bring these chickens with us,’ declared Shofar, the spokesman for the group.

  ‘Do they understand your intentions?’ Meren asked, to give himself time to consider the proposal.

  ‘Nakonto has explained it to them, and they are willing.’

  ‘What of their fathers and brothers? We do not wish to start a war.’

  ‘We have given them a bronze dagger each, and they are happy with the bargain.’

  ‘Can the women ride?’

  ‘No, but they will perforce learn soon enough.’

  Meren removed his leather helmet and ran his fingers through his curls, then looked to Taita for guidance. Taita shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. ‘Perhaps they can be taught to cook, or at least wash our clothes,’ he suggested.

  ‘If any causes trouble, or if there is any squabbling or fighting over their favours, I will send them back to their fathers, no matter how far we have travelled,’ Meren told Shofar sternly. ‘Keep them under control, that is all.’

  The column moved on. That evening when they went into laager, Nakonto came to report to Taita and, as had become their custom, to sit beside him for a while. ‘We have made good ground today,’ he said. ‘After this many days more travel…’ he showed all of his fingers twice, indicating twenty days ‘…we will leave the land of my people, and enter that of the Chima.’

  ‘Who are they? Are they brothers to the Shilluk?’

  ‘They are our enemies. They are short in stature and not beautiful as we are.’

  ‘Will they let us pass?’

  ‘Not willingly, old man.’ Nakonto smiled wolfishly. ‘There will be fighting. I have not had the opportunity to kill a Chima for many years.’ Then he added, as a casual afterthought, ‘The Chima are eaters of men.’

  The routine that Meren and Taita had adopted since leaving the settlement on the high plateau was to march for four consecutive days and take a break on the fifth. On that day they repaired any damaged equipment, rested the men and horses, and sent out hunting and foraging parties to replenish their supplies. Seventeen days after they had left Nontu with his wives, they passed the last cattle post of the Shilluk, and entered territory that seemed uninhabited by anything other than large herds of antelope. Most were of species they had not encountered before. They also came across new species of trees and plants, which delighted Taita and Fenn. She had become as ardent a botanist as he was. They looked for signs of cattle or human presence, but found none.

  ‘This is the land of the Chima,’ Nakonto told Taita.

  ‘Do you know it well?’

  ‘No, but I know the Chima well enough. They are secretive and treacherous. They keep no cattle, which is a true sign that they are savages. They eat game meat, and they prefer that of their fellow men above all else. We must be on our guard lest we end up on their cooking fires.’

  With Nakonto’s warning in mind, Meren gave special attention to the construction of the zareeba each evening, and placed additional guards over the horses and mules when they let them out to graze. As they travelled further into Chima territory they came across evidence of their presence. They found hollow tree-trunks, which had been hacked open and the bees in them smoked out. Then they came across a cluster of shelters that had not been inhabited for some time. Of more recent origin were a string of footprints in the mudbanks of the river, where a party of thirty men had crossed in single file from east to west. They were only a few days old.

  From the beginning the new Shilluk wives, none of whom were much older than Fenn, had been fascinated by her. They discussed the colour of her hair and her eyes among themselves and watched her every move, but kept their distance. Finally Fenn made friendly advances and soon they were conversing happily in sign language, feeling the texture of Fenn’s hair, squealing with laughter together at feminine jokes and bathing naked each evening in the shallow pools of the river. Fenn appealed to Nakonto for instruction, and picked up the Shilluk language as swiftly as she had Egyptian. In ways she was still a child, and Taita was pleased that she had convivial company closer to her own age to divert her. However, he made certain that she never wandered too far with the other girls. He kept her close so that he could rush to her aid at the first unnatural chill in the air or any other inkling of an alien presence. She and Taita took to speaking in Shilluk when there was a risk of being overlooked by their adversary.

  ‘Perhaps it is one language that even the witch will not understand, though I doubt it,’ he remarked. ‘At the least it is good practice for you.’

  They were deep into Chima territory when, at the end of a hard day’s march, they built the zareeba in a grove of tall mahogany trees. Wide pastures of grass with fluffy pink heads surrounded it. The horses favoured this grazing and herds of antelope were already feeding there. It was clear that they had never been hunted, for they were so tame and confiding that they allowed the archers to approach within easy bowshot.

  Meren declared that the following day they would rest, and early in the morning he sent out four hunting parties. When Taita and Fenn set off on their customary foraging expedition, Meren insisted that Shofar and two other troopers went with them: ‘There is something in the wind that makes me uneasy,’ was his only explanation.

  Taita preferred to have Fenn to himself but he knew not to argue when Meren smelt something in the wind. He might not be a psychic but he was a warrior and could smell trouble. They returned to camp late in the afternoon to find that only three of the hunting parties Meren had sent out had returned before them. At first they were not alarmed, expecting the last band to return at any moment, but an hour after sunset a horse belonging to one of the missing hunters galloped into camp. It was lathered with sweat, and wounded in one shoulder. Meren ordered all the troopers to stand to arms, an extra guard on the horses, and bonfires to be lit to guide the missing hunters home.

  At the first flush of dawn, when it was light enough to backtrack the wounded horse, Shabako and Hilto took out a heavily armed search party. Taita left Fenn in the care of Meren, and he and Nakonto rode out with them. Within a few leagues of the camp they rode under the outspread branches of a clump of silverleaf trees and came upon a grisly scene.

  Nakonto, with his tracking skills and his knowledge of the Chima’s habits, knew exactly what had taken place. A large band of men had concealed themselves among the trees and lain in ambush for the hunters. Nakonto picked up an ivory bracelet that one had dropped. ‘This was made by a Chima. See how crude it is – a Shilluk child could have done better,’ he told Taita. He pointed out the marks on the tree-trunks where some of the Chima had climbed into the branches. ‘This is the way the treacherous jackals like to fight, with stealthy cunning not courage.’

  As the four Egyptian horsemen rode beneath the overhanging branches the Chima had dropped down upon the
m. At the same time their comrades had leapt out of hiding, and stabbed the horses. ‘The Chima jackals pulled our men from their horses, probably before they could draw their weapons to defend themselves.’ Nakonto pointed out the signs of the struggle. ‘Here they speared them to death – see the blood on the grass.’ Using plaited bark rope the Chima had hung the corpses by the heels from the low branches of the nearest silverleafs, and butchered them like antelope.

  ‘They always eat the liver and entrails first,’ Nakonto explained. ‘Here is where they shook the dung from the tripes before they cooked them on the coals of the fires.’

  Then they had quartered the corpses and used bark rope to tie the severed limbs on to carrying poles. The feet, cut off at the ankle joints, were still hanging from the branches. They had thrown the heads and hands on to the fires, and when they were roasted, they had chewed off the palms and sucked the flesh from the finger bones. They had split open the skulls to scoop out the baked brains with cupped fingers, then scraped off the cheeks and taken out the tongues, a great Chima delicacy. The broken skulls and small bones were scattered all around. They had not bothered with the dead horses, probably because they were unable to deal with such a heavy load of meat. Then, with the physical remains, the clothing, weapons and other equipment of the troopers they had murdered, they had set off into the west, moving fast.

  ‘Shall we hunt them down?’ Shabako demanded angrily. ‘We cannot let this slaughter go unavenged.’

  Nakonto was just as eager to take up the pursuit, his eyes shot with bloodlust. But after only a moment’s thought Taita shook his head. ‘There are thirty or forty of them and six of us. They have had a head start of almost a full day, and they will be expecting us to pursue them. They will lead us deeper into difficult territory and ambush us.’ He looked around at the forest. ‘Certainly they will have left men to spy on us. They are probably watching us at this moment.’

  Some of the troopers drew their swords, but before they could rush among the trees and root them out, Taita stopped them. ‘If we do not follow them, they will follow us, which is what we want. We will be able to lead them to a killing ground of our own choosing.’ They buried the pathetic skulls with the severed feet, then returned to the zareeba.

  Early the next morning they mustered into column and rode out again on the endless journey. At noon they broke the march to rest and water the horses. On Taita’s orders, Nakonto slipped into the forest and made a wide circle through the trees. As stealthily as a shadow he cut the back trail of the column. The prints of three sets of bare feet were superimposed on the horse tracks. He made another wide circle to rejoin the column and report to Taita. ‘Your eyes see far, old man. Three of the jackals are following us. As you foretold, the rest of the pack will not be far behind.’

  That evening they sat late around the fire in the zareeba, laying plans for the morrow.

  The next morning they started the march at a sharp trot. Within half a league Meren ordered the pace increased to a canter. Swiftly they opened the gap between themselves and the Chima scouts whom they knew would be following. As they rode Meren and Taita were studying the terrain they were passing through, seeking ground that they could turn to their advantage. Ahead, a small isolated hillock rose above the forest and they angled towards it. Around its eastern slope they found a smooth, well-beaten elephant road. When they followed it they saw that the hillside above was steep, covered with a dense growth of kittar thornbush. The vicious hooks and densely intertwined branches formed an impenetrable wall. On the opposite side of the road the ground was level and, at first glance, the open forest seemed to afford little cover for an ambush. However, when Taita and Meren rode out a short distance among the trees they found a wadi, a dry gully cut out by storm water, that was deep and wide enough to hide their column, men and horses. The lip of the gully was only forty yards from the elephant road, within easy bowshot. Quickly they rejoined the main column. They stayed on the elephant road for a short distance, then Meren stopped again to conceal three of his best archers beside the road.

  ‘There are three Chima scouts following us. One for each of you,’ he told them. ‘Let them get close. Pick your shots. No mistakes. Quick, clean kills. You must not allow any of them to escape to warn the rest of the Chima, who are behind them.’

  They left the three archers and rode on along the elephant road. After half a league they left it and made a wide circle back to the gully under the slope of the hill. They led the horses down into it, and dismounted. Fenn and the Shilluk girls held the animals, ready to bring them forward when the troopers called for them. Taita waited with Fenn, but it would take him just an instant to run to Meren’s side when the time came.

  The men strung their bows, and lined up below the lip of the wadi facing the elephant road. At Meren’s command they squatted down, out of sight, to rest their legs and bow-arms, and to prepare themselves for combat. Only Meren and his captains watched the road, but to conceal the silhouette of their heads they stood behind clumps of grass or bushes.

  They did not have long to wait before the three Chima scouts came along the road. They had been running hard to keep up with the horses. Their bodies shone with sweat, their chests heaved and their legs were dusty to the knees. Meren lifted a warning hand and none of the men stirred. The scouts passed the ambush at a rapid trot and disappeared along the road into the forest. Meren relaxed slightly. A little later the three archers he had left to take care of the scouts slipped out of the forest and dropped into the wadi. Meren looked at them questioningly. The leader grinned and pointed to fresh splashes of blood on his tunic: the scouts had been accounted for. They all settled down to await the arrival of the main body of Chima.

  A short time later, from the forest on the right flank, the querulous alarm call of the grey lory, ‘Kee-wey! Kee-wey!’ rang out. Then a baboon barked a challenge from the top of the hill. Meren lifted a fist as a signal to his men. They nocked their arrows on the bowstrings.

  The leading file of the main Chima raiding party trotted round the curve in the elephant road. As they drew closer Meren studied them carefully. They were short, stocky and bow-legged, and wore only loincloths of tanned animal skins. Even when the entire band came into view it was difficult to make an accurate head count for they were bunched in a tight formation and moving fast.

  ‘A hundred at least, maybe more. We are in for some rich sport, I warrant you,’ Meren said, with anticipation. The Chima were armed with an assortment of clubs and flint-headed spears. The bows slung across their shoulders were small and primitive. Meren judged that they would not have the draw weight to kill a man at more than thirty paces. Then his eyes narrowed: one of the leaders carried an Egyptian sword slung over his shoulder. The man behind him wore a leather helmet, but of an archaic design. It was puzzling, but there was no time to ponder it now. The head of the Chima formation came level with the white stone he had placed beside the road as a range marker. Now the entire left flank was exposed to the Egyptian archers.

  Meren glanced left and right. The eyes of his men were fixed on him. He dropped his raised right hand sharply, and his archers jumped upright. As one man they drew their bows, paused to make good their aim, then loosed a silent cloud of arrows to arc high against the sky. Before the first struck home the second cloud rose into the air. The arrows fluted so softly that the Chima did not even look up. Then, with a sound like raindrops falling on the surface of a pond, they dropped among them. The Chima did not seem to realize what was happening to them. One stood gazing down, perplexed, at the shaft of the arrow protruding from between his ribs. Then his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground. Another was staggering in small circles plucking at the arrow that had buried itself in his throat. Most of the others, even those who had received mortal wounds, did not seem to grasp that they had been hit.

  When the third flight of arrows dropped among them those still on their feet panicked and bolted, screaming and howling, in every direction, like a flock of gui
nea-fowl scattering under the stoop of an eagle. Some ran straight towards the wadi and the archers dropped their aim. At close range none of the arrows missed their mark: they struck deep into living flesh with meaty thumps. Some went right through the torso of the primary target, and flew on to wound the man behind him. Those who tried to escape up the hill ran into the palisade of kittar thorn bushes. It stopped them in their tracks, and forced them back into the hailstorm of arrows.

  ‘Bring up the horses!’ Meren yelled. Fenn and the other girls dragged them forward by the head ropes. Taita swung on to Windsmoke’s back, while Meren and his men slung their bows and mounted.

  ‘Forward! Charge!’ Meren bellowed. ‘Take the blade to them.’ The horsemen bounded up the side of the wadi on to the level ground and, shoulder to shoulder, charged at the disordered rabble of Chima, who saw them coming and tried to turn back up the slope. They were caught between the thorn wall and the glittering bronze circle of swords. Some made no attempt to escape. They fell to their knees and covered their heads with their arms. The horsemen stood in the stirrups to stab them. Others struggled in the thorns like fish in the folds of a net. The troopers cut them down as if they were firewood. By the time they had finished their grisly work, the slope and the ground below it were thickly strewn with bodies. Some Chima were writhing and groaning, but most lay still.

  ‘Dismount,’ Meren ordered. ‘Finish the work.’

  The troopers moved quickly over the field, stabbing any Chima who showed a spark of life. Meren spotted the man with the bronze sword still slung across his back. Three arrow shafts stood out of his chest. Meren stooped over him to retrieve the sword, but at that instant Taita shouted, ‘Meren! Behind you!’ He used the voice of power, and Meren was galvanized. He leapt up and twisted aside. The Chima lying behind him had feigned death: he had waited until Meren was off-guard, then he jumped to his feet and swung at him with a heavy flint-headed club. The blow narrowly missed Meren’s head but glanced off his left shoulder. Meren pivoted in close, blocking the weapon’s next swing, and drove the point of his sword clean through the Chima, transfixing him from sternum to backbone. With a wrench of his wrist, he twisted the blade to open the wound, and when he jerked it clear, a great gush of heart blood followed it.