Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (14 page)

“Djet!” I whispered. He gave me a stricken look. “Forgive me,” I said.

Obodas, growing impatient, dispatched the bodyguard to fetch his new acquisition. The hulking brute stepped across the now-empty playing area, took Djet by the hand, and pulled the boy after him, yanking harder than was necessary.

“Careful!” said Obodas. He waved the bodyguard back, then put his arm around Djet. The gesture looked gentle at first, but I noticed that his hand was clamped firmly on Djet’s shoulder. “Come, boy. Your new master is weary, and my host has promised me the softest bed in all Canopus, stuffed with goose down.”

Again I tried to stand. Again the sons of the Crocodile restrained me.

Obodas and his little retinue made their way up the stairs. The Egyptian travelers, embarrassed for me, quickly vacated the room. The girl put away her instrument and vanished. The two sons let go of my shoulders, stepped back, and followed their sister.

No one remained in the room but the Crocodile and me.

“Time now to blow out the lamp,” he said.

“But…”

“Are you not weary and longing for rest?”

I shook my head. “I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

“No worry,” said the Crocodile. “I shall give you a sleeping draft, made from herbs that grow in the marshes of the Nile. You will sleep like a child, I promise.”

I finally got to my feet. My legs were stiff. My head ached. I touched my nearly empty coin purse. “I’m not sure I have enough money to—”

“Oh, never mind that! Always hungry for coins I may be, but I can be generous, as well. You shall have a fine room tonight, and a fine bed, at no charge.”

I sighed, confused by his kindness. Or perhaps it was not so confusing, after all. For keeping a wealthy customer amused all evening, my room and board were a small concession. The Nabataean would go to bed happy and probably leave his host a generous tip when he departed.

I was unsteady on my feet. The Crocodile helped me up the stairs, across the dim vestibule, and down a short hallway, where he showed me to my room. He helped me into my bed, and then produced the sleeping draft he had promised, uncorking a small glass vial to reveal a strange-smelling green concoction within.

After a moment’s hesitation, I drank it down, hoping it would bring forgetfulness, for a few hours at least, of the sorry mess I had made of things.

I sank into oblivion.

At some point in the night, I heard a shrill cry. Was it some nocturnal bird—or was it a boy, crying out in terror, or pain? Was it Djet?

Or did I only dream it? Agitated as I was by the scream, the draft had so stupefied me that I never fully woke, but seemed to hover in the darkness of my little room, semi-conscious, unable to move, with that boyish shriek echoing around me, growing quieter and quieter, until Somnus pulled me back into oblivion.

XII

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Someone was whispering loudly in my ear, and shaking my shoulder.

“Wake up, you half-witted Roman!”

My eyelids seemed to be pasted shut. With a great effort I managed to open them, then saw, by the faint light of a flickering lamp, the face that had been haunting my uneasy dreams. Did I still dream, or was I awake? Was it an apparition I saw, or the boy himself?

“Djet?” I said.

“Shhh! Lower your voice!”

“Is it really you?”

He narrowed his eyes and glowered at me, as if vexed by the sheer stupidity of such a question.

“But … what are you doing here?” I said.

“Waking you up, so that we can get away as quickly as possible. Out of bed, now, if you want to save your neck!”

Despite my growing alarm, I could not seem to fully waken. It was the sleeping draft, I thought, stuffing my head with cobwebs and filling my limbs with lead. I managed to roll from the bed, practically falling on the floor, then staggered to my feet.

Djet did his best to steady me. “You’re as heavy as a hippopotamus,” he complained, “but not nearly as graceful! Now, come!”

“Come where?”

“Anywhere, as long as it’s far from here. Pick up that sack and bring it with you. It’s too heavy for me. I’ve carried it as far as I can.”

He referred to a cloth sack roughly the size of his head, tied at the top with a bit of hempen rope. I picked it up. The weight was substantial, but not too heavy for a grown man to carry, slung over his shoulder. From within the bulging bag I heard the slithering, clanking sounds of metal sliding against metal. “What’s inside?”

“What do you think?”

“Coins?”

“Yes. All that you lost, and more. Now, come!”

I dropped the sack onto the bed. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Slowly, fitfully, my senses were returning to me. “Djet! It’s one thing to abscond with you in the middle of the night. I should never have used you for a wager. I should never have allowed that man to take you from the room! What was I thinking? If you’ve managed to escape him, good for you! I’ll do whatever I can to get you away from here. But if you’ve robbed him—”

“The coins are yours!”

“No, Djet. I lost them in the game. Fool that I was—”

“Are you coming, or not?”

I stared at the sack. “Perhaps … if I take only some of the coins, and leave the rest. We must have money to feed ourselves.…”

“Whatever you do, do it quickly!”

I tried to undo the knot and open the sack, but the rope was tightly tied. My head was still groggy from the sleeping draft, and my clumsy fingers refused to obey me. I grunted with frustration and gave up trying to untie the knot.

“What hour is it, Djet?”

“Nearly dawn, I think.”

I sighed. “If I’m to run off like a thief, taking you and the money, it would have been better to do so in the middle of the night, to give ourselves a head start. What if the Nabataean rises with the sun? He’ll see that you and the money are gone, and send his bodyguards after us.”

“No he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re all dead.”

For a long moment I simply stared at him. “Who is dead?”

“The Nabataean and his bodyguards. And the boy, as well.”

My blood ran cold. “Djet! What in the name of all the gods have you done?”

Again he gave me a look to show his vexation at such a stupid question. “It wasn’t
I
who killed them, you half-wit! Look at me. Do you think a little fellow like me could overpower two bodyguards and a grown man? The long-haired boy I could have taken in a fight, perhaps—”

“Then, who…?” I left the question unfinished, for the answer was obvious.

“The Crocodile and his sons,” said Djet. “Don’t ask me how they killed the bodyguards. I didn’t see. I was in the room with Obodas and the boy, and the bodyguards were outside somewhere. But I knew they must be dead when the two sons crept into the room, followed by the Crocodile, because I could see they all carried daggers, and there was already blood on those daggers.”

“You saw the Crocodile and his sons enter the room?” I whispered.

“Because I was the only one awake.”

“Obodas?”

“Fast asleep. So was the boy. Obodas didn’t even wake up when they slit his throat. It must have been that green stuff the Crocodile gave him before we went to bed.”

“Green stuff?”

“The Crocodile said it was a love tonic. When he heard that, Obodas couldn’t drink it fast enough, but instead of making him randy, it put him right to sleep. He never even took off his headdress.”

“The sleeping draft,” I said. “The Crocodile gave me a dose of the same concoction.”

“But the boy did wake up. He was awake when they…” Djet shivered. “Did you not hear him cry out?”

I drew a sharp breath. “The scream in the night! Yes, I heard it. But I thought it must be … you. How is it that you’re still alive, Djet?”

“They were about to kill me, but the Crocodile said they should question me first, to find out more about
you
—where you came from, what you’re up to, and so on. While the Crocodile stripped the jewels off Obodas and tucked away the valuables, the two sons gagged me and tied me up. Then they left me there, lying on the floor, while they dragged the bodies out of the room. And that’s the last I saw of them.”

“But how did you get away?”

“They did a poor job of tying me up. I managed to wriggle free.”

“And you brought that sack with you…”

“Exactly. And the Crocodile and his sons are likely to come back at any moment. They’ll see that I’m gone, and that the sack is gone, and they’ll come for you. Do you finally understand, you half-wit Roman? We need to go, at once!”

At last I was fully awake. My heart pounded in my chest. I picked up the sack and slung it over my shoulder.

“Show me the way, Djet.”

Holding the lamp before him, he led me from the room and down the hallway. In the vestibule, he blew out the lamp. I quietly opened the door. The world outside was dimly lit by the first faint promise of dawn.

The air was fresh and cool. A maze of leafy silhouettes surrounded us, revealing no clear way out of the little oasis. We had approached the inn in darkness, with the local boy to guide us. I could not remember the route.

“This way,” whispered Djet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. This will lead us back to the main road.”

I was dubious, but since I had no better idea, I followed him—and a moment later I tripped over something large and fleshy lying in our path. As I stumbled, the metallic clanging of the sack slung over my shoulder seemed loud in the stillness.

I recovered my balance and looked down. The thing I had tripped over was a body lying on its back. The corpse’s face was hidden by deep shadows, but by his beard I took him to be the bodyguard who had sat behind Obodas while we played. The gore of his slashed throat glittered darkly.

Startled into silence, Djet took my hand and urgently pulled me onward.

The way was closely hemmed by fronds and leaves that barely made a sound as we brushed past. The sand beneath our feet was well trodden and firmly packed. Still, I held my breath at the faintest noise, and kept the sack as steady as I could.

We emerged from a densely shaded patch and suddenly confronted the soft glow of a lamp, the same lamp that had hung over the game of Pharaoh’s Beard, now held aloft by the Crocodile to illuminate the digging of a shallow grave.

Practically at our feet, heaped together, were the corpses of Obodas and the boy. The boy was still dressed in his bright red tunic, which was covered with stains of a darker red, especially at the neck, but Obodas had been stripped of his Nabataean robes and headdress. One of the Crocodile’s sons had put them on—strange garments to wear while standing in a hole and shoveling dirt.

The other son was using his bare hands to scrape dirt from the hole, while the Crocodile stood over them with the lamp. By its lurid glow, I saw the faces of all three, and barely suppressed a gasp. Their features were no longer even remotely human. They were animal-headed nightmares.

“Deeper than that!” said the Crocodile. He made a sound between a giggle and a hiss. “It has to be big enough for all four of them. Deeper, boys! Faster! As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go back to the inn and take care of that sleepyhead Roman and his squirmy little slave. Come daylight, we’ll send those three simpletons from Sais on their way. And then—”

“Then we’ll count the coins, eh, papa?” said the son with the shovel.

“And put the rings on our fingers, and take turns wearing the pretty ruby necklace?” said the other.

“The ruby is for your sister, boys. With a dowry like that, she can marry into the richest family in Canopus. But for now, keep digging. Deeper! Faster!”

Djet tugged at my hand, trying to lead me back the way we had come. Slowly, silently, my heart pounding in my chest, I drew back from the area illuminated by the glowing lamp.

Djet and I retraced our steps until we found another path, which branched to one side. As we stepped into a small clearing, I tripped over another body—the corpse of the second bodyguard. Tied to a nearby palm tree were the Nabataean’s camels, stripped for the night of their riding accouterments, which were neatly bundled and stacked nearby. There were also some leather skins filled with water and a bit of food, ready to be loaded onto the camels.

I had never yet met a camel I liked, or one that liked me. But I had learned how to ride one. I quickly outfitted the strongest-looking beast, and amid the trappings I found a place to store the bag of coins. Speaking the words I had been taught, I convinced the beast to kneel. I mounted it, and then reached for Djet, who stepped back, out of reach.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“I’ve never been on one of those.”

“This will be your first camel ride, then. Lucky boy.”

“Don’t they bite?”

“Never. Nor do they spit. The camel is the kindest and most docile of all creatures.”

“You’re lying!”

“Had you rather stay here and end up like that?” I gestured to the corpse of the bodyguard. The growing light now revealed the full horror of the gaping wound at his throat.

Djet scrambled onto the camel and seated himself behind me.

“Hut! Hut!” I grunted, and snapped the reins. The camel gave a snort and rose to its full height. Djet squealed and clutched me, holding fast. “Hut! Hut!” I repeated, and off we went at a steady trot, leaving the oasis and the Inn of the Hungry Crocodile behind.

The last of the stars had vanished. The road before us and the scrubby vegetation on either side grew lighter by the moment. With the sun poised to rise in our faces, we headed toward the Nile.

XIII

That day I strove to put as much distance as I could between us and the Hungry Crocodile.

I smelled the river long before we reached it—the rich, fecund, moist, reedy, fishy scent of the Nile and the alluvial soil of its widespread mouth, so powerful and pervasive that for as long as we remained in the Delta, the smell was around me everywhere and at every moment, day and night. Every part of me—my clothes, my hair, even my skin—would become steeped in this odor.

Following the route dictated by Tafhapy, I turned south when we reached the first branch of the Nile and took the road toward Sais.