Ancient World 02 - Raiders of the Nile (27 page)

First a meal was prepared and consumed, along with a considerable amount of wine. After everyone’s appetite was sated, the men gathered in a circle.

Artemon gestured to the stacks of treasure in the middle of the clearing. “Look, men of the Cuckoo’s Nest—see how much richer we are today than yesterday!”

The men clapped, hooted, and cheered.

“Every man here did his part,” said Artemon. “Every man here deserves his share.”

There was more raucous cheering.

“The task of disbursing the treasure falls to me. Does any man here doubt my judgment? Does any man doubt my fairness? Does any man challenge me?”

There was only silence, until Menkhep spoke up. “We trust you, Artemon. Now hurry up and get on with it!”

This was met with a round of laughter, and more cheering.

“Very well, then,” said Artemon.

He began with several sacks full of coins. It struck me that the disbursal of these should be simple enough, but because the coins came from many different places and were of various qualities and weights, splitting them up in equal shares was not as simple as I had thought. Among the bandits there were a few men who had worked in counting houses or currency exchanges, and Artemon called upon them to assist him in evaluating and sorting the coins. This procedure took place in full view of anyone who cared to watch, and in the end each man was given as nearly as could be calculated the same share as every other, including Artemon, and myself, for that matter.

Goods that could be consumed, such as the amphorae of wine, were to be shared among the men over time; these were publicly displayed, so that everyone could look forward to the enjoyment in store for them. Goods that would have to be sold to realize their value, such as jewelry and silver vessels, were to be placed in the common treasury, to be dealt with later; these, too, were shown to everyone. As these precious objects were paraded through the clearing, I was reminded a little of the triumphal processions I had seen as a boy in Rome, in which the most fabulous spoils of war were shown off to the people of Rome by their conquering generals.

Artemon himself, to the objection of no one, claimed the few scrolls that had survived the wreckage; these mostly had to do with the ship’s business, though there was also the soggy remnant of a play by Menander. Other goods of a more personal nature, such as clothing, shoes, belts, satchels, coin purses, boxes, knives, lamps, unguents, brushes, and combs, were distributed to the men according to their need for such items, or to those who had been passed over in previous disbursements and were next in line. It appeared that Artemon maintained a ledger to keep track of which men were owed more or less, a wax tablet with markings in some code of his own invention. It seemed not to matter that only he could make sense of this ledger, since all the men appeared to trust his accounting, and the great majority of them were illiterate, anyway.

At the end of that day, every man in the Cuckoo’s Nest had a full stomach and a coin purse fatter than the day before, and went to his hut with some new treasure, no matter how small. Djet was not included in the disbursement of coins, but made out especially well when goods were handed out, for the booty included a number of wooden toys and clothing suitable for a boy his age. Since these were of no use to anyone else, Djet was given the lot.

I myself received a pair of very finely made shoes, which fit me as if the leather had been tailored to my feet. Artemon chose them for me and insisted I take them, noting that my own shoes had grown quite worn and shabby in the course of my travels. I tried not to think of where the shoes had come from, or imagine the fate of the man who had worn them.

“Every man can use a good pair of shoes to protect his feet,” said Artemon, as he handed them to me. “Especially a man about to face his initiation.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “When might that be?”

“As soon as tomorrow, if all goes well.”

“And what—” I began to say, for I wanted to know more about this so-called initiation. But I heard a grumble from the man behind me, who was impatient to receive his share of the booty, as were the men behind him. I took my new shoes and moved on.

For the rest of the day, talking to Menkhep and some of the others with whom I was becoming acquainted, I tried to learn more about the initiation. Everyone deflected my questions, some more clumsily than others. Not one of them would give me a clear answer. It became obvious that I was meant to know nothing more than I already knew—only that the ritual might take place the next day, and that it was better done wearing shoes than in bare feet.

*   *   *

That night in our hut, listening to Djet softly snoring, I lay staring at the darkness for a long time. It was not my worries about the initiation that kept me awake. It was an all-consuming desire to see Bethesda.

I had gone to her before. Did I dare to go to her again?

No, I told myself; a second visit would be too dangerous. The first night, the raging storm had allowed me to make the short trip to her hut unnoticed, but tonight the sky was clear and all was quiet. I would surely be seen. Artemon would be apprised of my movements. Disaster would be the result.

And yet, I could think of nothing else. I remembered my previous visit. I recalled every small detail, dwelling on moments of exquisite pleasure, recalling the sight, the sounds, the smell, taste, and touch of her. These recollections did nothing to calm me or quiet my longing. They only increased my agitation.

I did what I could to satisfy myself physically, more than once. Still, I could think of nothing else.

At last, weariness overcame me.

But even as I entered the world of dreams, I heard again that roar of some wild beast from the tangled woods beyond the Cuckoo’s Nest. That sound did what nothing else could do—it drove Bethesda from my thoughts, and in her place instilled a cold, paralyzing premonition of dread.

*   *   *

The next morning, I rose before the sun was up.

I ate a bit of stale bread and a handful of dates, then found a secluded spot by the lagoon, in sight of the huts but some distance away, and watched as the world gradually woke to the new day. The surface of the water changed from dark green to pale blue as the daylight grew stronger. Birds began to call and sing. Some of the men emerged from their huts, but many slept late, taking a well-earned rest after the expedition. Those who noticed me across the water neither called nor waved to me, and no one came to join me, not even Menkhep, who almost certainly saw me across the water but quickly vanished from sight. I began to think this must be a part of the initiation ritual, that no one should speak to me or even look me in the eye.

Eventually, it seemed that all the men must have risen, and yet, except for myself, the perimeter of the lagoon was deserted. Suddenly, from the direction of the clearing with the roasting pit, I heard the sound of many voices shouting in unison. I realized that a meeting was taking place—to which I had not been invited.

The sound of the shouting finally awakened the latest sleeper of all. Across the lagoon, I saw Djet emerge from our hut. He yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes, spotted me and made his way around the lagoon to join me. Occasional shouts still rang out from the clearing.

“What are they doing over there?” he said.

“Talking about me, I suspect.”

His eyes grew wide. “Why? Have you done something wrong?”

I managed a weak smile. “Hopefully, I’ve done something right. We’ll find out, soon enough.”

Menkhep appeared across the lagoon, at the foot of the pier. He waved to me and gestured that I should come to join the others, then turned back. His face gave no indication as to what I should expect.

I made my way to the clearing. My heart began to race, though I told myself I had nothing to fear. Djet followed me. I glanced back at him only once and then avoided looking at him, for his eyes were wide with alarm.

The clearing was more crowded than I had seen it before. Every man in the Cuckoo’s Nest had come to the assembly. Artemon stood above the crowd at one end of the clearing, standing on a dais fashioned from the sawed-off stump of a palm tree. He saw me and gestured that I should join him. Djet made his way to the front of the crowd.

Artemon’s face was grave but his voice was friendly enough. “Are you ready for the initiation?”

Since I had no idea what the initiation entailed, how could I answer such a question? I nodded.

He raised an eyebrow. “A nod is good enough for me, Pecunius, but when I ask you the same question for the benefit of the men, I suggest you show a bit more enthusiasm.” He turned to the crowd and addressed them in a loud, ringing voice. “Esteemed comrades, we have before us a newcomer. He calls himself Marcus Pecunius.”

“A Roman name!” shouted one of the men, in a tone that was not very friendly.

“Pecunius is indeed a Roman,” said Artemon. “But many of us came to the Cuckoo’s Nest from lands beyond Egypt, and even those of us who are Egyptian come mostly from regions beyond the Delta. Having a Roman among us might be a good thing. He speaks Latin, for one thing. You never know when that might come in handy. And to get here from Rome, he must have done some traveling. A man who’s seen the world could turn out to be useful.”

Men nodded their heads and murmured agreement.

“Pecunius also arrived bearing gifts for us—a not inconsiderable amount of money, and jewelry, as well. He’s already donated a generous share to our mutual fund.”

At this, many of the men applauded and cheered.

“As you can see, he exhibits no lameness or disease. Is he as fit as he looks? I ask you, Menkhep. Pecunius rowed beside you yesterday, did he not?”

Menkhep emerged from the front of the crowd. He turned to address the others. “The Roman did his share of work. He’s no slacker.”

“And he may have even more useful skills, of which we haven’t yet seen a demonstration,” said Artemon. From the sidelong look he gave me, I knew he was referring to my alleged reputation as a killer. This prompted more nods and murmurs from the crowd.

“What does the soothsayer think?” someone shouted.

“Metrodora has already given her approval,” said Artemon. Many in the crowd nodded thoughtfully. “All in all, I think Pecunius would make a worthy addition to our little band. But before we vote on the matter, let’s make sure he wants to join us. What do you say, Pecunius? Do you wish to become a member of the Cuckoo’s Gang? Do you wish to live among us and share an equal portion of whatever comes our way, whether it be good fortune or bad, plenty or poverty, life or death? Will you agree to honor the laws of the group, as determined by its members? Will you follow the orders of the man chosen to be our leader, whether that man is myself or another?”

When I hesitated, he looked at me shrewdly. “There is an alternative, of course. If you find our way of life repugnant, if you object to our laws, if you cannot obey the commands of whatever man leads us, then you needn’t throw your lot with us. Not every man was meant to be part of the Cuckoo’s Gang; we understand that. But you can’t expect us to simply set you free. You’ll be stripped of the coins and jewels you kept for yourself. You’ll be put in chains, but you won’t be harmed. If you can think of someone who might pay for your release, and if the prospect seems reasonably profitable, we’ll hold you for ransom. If not, you’ll be taken along the next time some of us venture to a town with a slave market. We’ll put you on the auction block and see what you fetch. That way, we’ll be rid of you and you’ll be rid of us.”

“And a slave!” I said.

Artemon shrugged. “It’s not much of a choice, I’ll admit. But there you have it.”

My goal was to free Bethesda, and that would never happen if I myself were a captive. Still, I was repelled by the idea of becoming a member of the Cuckoo’s Gang, especially since it appeared that a pledge of loyalty would be required from me. This was not a matter I took lightly, because a Roman’s word is his honor. Just how binding was a vow made under duress, especially to a gang of brigands?

What would my father have done? What would my old tutor, Antipater, have advised? As far as I could see, I had no choice. I stared Artemon in the eye and did my best to feign enthusiasm.

“I wasn’t born to be a slave,” I said. “Neither was any man here, I’ll wager. I choose to join you.”

He smiled. “Don’t tell me. Tell them.”

I turned to the crowd. I looked from face to face. Some looked friendly, while some looked skeptical or aloof, but not one of them appeared to wish me harm. For the first time, I realized how diverse the group was. No single color predominated amid the wide array of flesh tones, from ebony to alabaster, with every shade between. Some had the tightly curled black hair and black skin of Nubians. A few had the flame-colored hair and ivory complexion of the northern races. Somehow, they had all found their way here, and so had I.

“I want to join you…” I began, and then realized, from the blank faces before me, that I was mumbling. I thought of Bethesda, swallowed hard, and raised my voice to a shout. “I want to join you—if you’ll have me!”

“What do you say, men of the Cuckoo’s Nest?” said Artemon. “Yes or no?”

“Yes!” shouted Menkhep. “Yes! Yes!” He pumped his arms in the air and encouraged the others to join him.

“Yes!” they yelled, at first in scattered shouts. But very quickly the shouts joined together and turned into a chant. Some of the men clapped and stamped their feet. Others raised their arms in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At the front of the crowd, I saw Djet. Caught up in the excitement, he began to jump up and down and whirl about.

Looking out at a sea of faces and upraised arms, hearing the enthusiasm in their voices, I felt an unexpected stirring of excitement, and even a perverse sort of pride. Never before in my life had I been singled out to stand before such a large group and then been made to feel that I was somehow special—never mind that the men were all criminals and that I was playing a role. Was this how every new member was welcomed into the Cuckoo’s Gang? I realized that each man there had experienced his own singular, exhilarating moment on the dais.