Desert God (37 page)

W
e followed the Euphrates River in a north-westerly direction for the following six days, until we intercepted the King’s Highway at the city of Resafa. Then we turned to follow the highway down through the mountains as far as Ash-Sham, the City of Jasmine.

Since leaving the Red Sea we had travelled in an enormous circle which had never brought us closer than seven hundred leagues to the Hyksos-dominated lands around the northern reaches of Mother Nile.

From the City of Jasmine we could at last head directly west for the port of Sidon on the most easterly shores of the Middle Sea. This was the most beautiful and pleasing stage of our long journey. It took us down through the mountains and forests of Lebanon.

The highway was lined with gigantic cedar trees that had never felt the axe. They seemed to be the pillars on which the sky was suspended, reaching up to the veritable home of the gods. At this season of the year their upper branches were decked with hoary garlands of crisp new snow and the air was redolent with the scent of their resin.

As we dropped down towards the coast the weather warmed and we could divest ourselves of the furs and heavy woollen shawls that we had purchased in the City of Jasmine. We emerged from the cedar forests to discover another mountain standing before us. My guides assured me that this was the Rana Mountain, which in the Canaanite language means ‘Perfect in Beauty’. It stands upon the shores of the Middle Sea between the Phoenician ports of Tyre and Sidon and separates them by a distance of almost twenty leagues.

The trade road that we were following was split by the mountain. We took the right-hand fork and as we rounded the flank of Mount Rana we were afforded our first glimpse of the sea. It was a marvellous shade of deep cerulean blue that stretched away to the horizon. Even the bellies of the towering mountains of cloud above it were stained blue by the reflection of the waters below.

The port of Sidon was one of the most prosperous and bustling trade cities on this coast. The harbour was crammed with shipping. Even at this distance I could make out the double-headed axe emblem of Crete on the sails of many of the larger vessels. These were part of the flotilla which had conveyed Toran from Crete to this place. He came to me to bid me farewell and then rode ahead to the port to go aboard his flagship and take command of her. He would sail ahead of us to alert the Supreme Minos to our imminent arrival.

I selected an area of open ground bordering the road half a league outside the stone walls of the port. Here a stream running down from the slopes of Mount Rana would provide us with an adequate water supply. I ordered Zaras to set up our regimental camp on this site. Before the camp was ready for occupation a delegation emerged from the main gates of the city and came down the road towards us.

I saw that the man leading them was dressed in the robes of a high-ranking Sumerian officer. He rode up to where I stood and dismounted.

‘I am Naram Sin, the governor of the province of Sidon.’ He held his clenched fist against his heart in a gesture of respect. ‘Of course I know you are Lord Taita. Your name is already known and revered throughout all of Sumeria. I am strictly commanded by His Majesty King Nimrod to accord unto you all respect and to obey your instructions at once and without question. I am to see to it that you and the royal ladies in your care lack for nothing.’

‘Thank you for this friendly welcome. My first request to you is that you supply us with fodder for our animals.’

Naram Sin spun on his heel and rapped out a string of orders for his subordinates. They scurried away to his bidding; and the governor turned back to me. ‘Is there any other way in which I can assist you, my lord?’

‘Please lead me to the shipyards where my flotilla is being refitted. I am eager to inspect the work.’

T
he six galleys that I had purchased from Nimrod were at first sight a major disappointment to me. They were standing on stocks so that I was able to examine their hulls beneath the waterline. I made the mistake of comparing them to the great Minoan triremes that I had captured at the fort of Tamiat. These Sumerian ships were almost half the size and I could see from the design of the hulls that they would be much slower and not nearly so handy.

With an effort I thrust aside my disillusionment, and determined to concentrate all my attention on making the best of what was at hand.

Over the next few weeks I spent most of my waking hours in the yards with Zaras and the shipwrights. They were making the best of a bad job, but that was not enough to satisfy me. I always demand perfection.

I inspected every plank and spar. I prised out nails from the hulls at random and inspected them for corrosion. I did the same with the bronze fittings. I dug with the point of my sword into the caulking of the hull to ascertain the quality of the workmanship. I had all the sails unfurled and laid out on the beach so I could go over them minutely, searching for and repairing tears and weak spots in the canvas.

Then I ordered a series of modifications to the hulls. Zaras and I had discussed these in detail during the long journey down from Babylon. When I showed the superintendent of the shipyard my drawings he grumbled and groused and came up with a dozen objections, which I beat down relentlessly.

I wanted to employ these galleys in close support to our land forces that would soon be operating against the Hyksos legions along the northern shores of Egypt. Despite my original misgivings I was now confident that these ships would be capable of moving large contingents of men swiftly from any point in the delta to where they were needed most. However, troops were ineffectual without their chariots and horses.

The yard superintendent finally capitulated to my demands and built loading ramps into the sterns of my galleys. I made him reinforce the decking between the rowing benches so that this could carry twelve chariots with their horses even in heavy seas.

We would be able to reverse these vessels up to any shelving beach or other suitable landing site and deliver a squadron of over seventy fighting chariots with their horse teams in the traces and their men in the cockpit ready to go into action immediately. Once they had achieved their objective they could be recovered from the beach just as expeditiously.

While this work was being carried out Toran received orders from the Supreme Minos to delay his departure so that he could sail in convoy with us. He was to place his large and commodious galleys at my disposal to convey the royal princesses and their entourage in greater comfort than they would enjoy on my much smaller vessels.

It was fortunate that the Cretan ruler had accorded me this courtesy; otherwise Toran would not have had the opportunity to witness the warlike capabilities of my small force.

By the time that the modifications to the hulls of my ships were completed the season of storms came to an end. The gods blessed us with fair weather and moderate seas. But before we set sail for Crete I determined that we must put to the test the seaworthiness of the renovated hulls and the operation of the modifications which I had installed. At the same time I would be able to drill my charioteers in the operation of the stern loading ramps.

We put to sea and sailed up and down the coast for several days landing our chariots on every feasible beach or headland and then recovering them again. I kept the men at it until they and their horses were thoroughly trained and skilled at these manoeuvres. When at last I was satisfied we sailed back to the port of Sidon.

In the early morning, two days before our final departure for Crete, I was walking down from our campsite to the shipyard to supervise the day’s work when on the outskirts of the port I was accosted by a one-eyed beggar. I tried to brush him aside and continue my conversation with Zaras and Hui, who were accompanying me. The filthy rascal was importunate. Whining, he clutched at my sleeve. I turned back and raised my staff to beat him off, but he showed no fear and grinned at me impudently.

‘Lord Aton challenges you to a game of bao,’ he mouthed at me. I lowered my staff and gaped at him. The statement was so incongruous coming from that toothless and odorous maw that for once I was taken completely aback. Before I could recover my wits the fellow thrust a minute roll of papyrus into my hand and then darted away down a crowded alley. Zaras immediately charged after him, but I called him back.

‘Let him go, Zaras. He is a friend of a friend.’

Zaras stopped reluctantly and looked back at me.‘Are you sure that he didn’t cut your purse? Don’t you want me to beat the truth out of him, just in case?’

‘Have done!’ I told him. ‘Let him go! Come back here, Zaras!’ He obeyed me, but looking back over his shoulder longingly.

I returned immediately to the camp and sequestered myself in my tent before I unfolded the papyrus. I saw at a glance that it was indeed a message from Aton. His calligraphy is unmistakable. Like his manner, it is pretentious.

On the fifth day of Pachon the Vulture despatched a pack of two hundred jackals east from Zanat to intercept the wounded falcon at the hole in the wall and prevent his flight to the new island nest.

The contents of the message itself confirmed unequivocally the identity of the author. In the private code that Aton and I employed the Vulture was King Gorrab. Two hundred jackals meant that number of Hyksos chariots. Zanat was our code name for the border town of Nello between northern Egypt and Sinai. The Hole in the Wall was Sidon. The new island nest was Crete. Of course, the wounded falcon was my personal hieroglyph.

In plain language Aton was warning me that sixteen days previously Gorrab had despatched a detachment of two hundred chariots along the coastal road from Nello to Sidon to intercept me and prevent me setting sail for Crete.

It was not a great shock or surprise to me that Gorrab and his minions had learned of my mission. In any company as large and diffuse as the one I had led from Thebes to Babylon, and now down to the port of Sidon, there would be somebody with a loud mouth and others with big ears. We had been long enough on the road for the news to have reached Gorrab’s lair in Memphis, and for him to react to it. Even though I had taken every precaution possible to cover my tracks I was resigned to the fact that Gorrab knew that I was in command of this mission. My reputation precedes me. He must know also just how formidable an opponent I am.

I did not waste a moment longer pondering how Aton had garnered this information, if it were authentic and how he had delivered it to me. Aton has ways and means of doing things, just as I have. He did not make mistakes, again just like me.

I stuck my head out of the flap of my tent and shouted for Zaras. He was waiting close at hand and he arrived almost immediately, with Hui on his heels.

‘Get the men and chariots loaded back on to the ships at once. I want to sail before noon,’ I told them.

‘Where to?’ Hui asked. ‘Is this another exercise?’

‘Don’t ask idiotic questions.’ Zaras rounded on him savagely. ‘Just do what Taita orders you, and do it quickly.’

I
t was a full hour short of noon when I led my flotilla out of Sidon harbour. At my invitation Toran stood beside me in the stern of my flagship, which I had named the
Outrage
. Outrage had been my initial reaction when I first laid eyes on her.

As soon as we cleared the breakwater I turned on to a southerly heading. The rest of my ships tacked in succession behind me and we ran parallel to the coast in line astern. I had made some rapid calculations based on the succinct information that Aton had given me.

If, as Aton had warned me, the Hyksos raiders had indeed set out from Zanat on the fifth of Shemu, they would have faced a journey of over four hundred leagues to reach Sidon. Laden chariots could cover only about twenty leagues a day over such an extended distance without crippling the horses. Horses have to rest and graze. Thus the journey would take them almost twenty days in all. According to Aton’s intelligence they had already been on the road for sixteen days. Therefore they were probably only eighty leagues or so ahead. I anchored our ships as soon as the sun set.

When Toran demanded why I was reluctant to sail on through the hours of darkness I explained to him, ‘I can’t take the chance of sailing clean past the enemy in darkness. But anchoring will not delay our meeting for too long. The Hyksos chariots will be closing with us at their best speed. We can expect to meet them at about noon on the day after tomorrow.’ When I gave Toran these calculations, he had another acute question for me.

‘How will we know when we do come level with them? Surely we will only have occasional glimpses of the coastal road from the deck of this ship.’

‘Dust and smoke,’ I told him.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Two hundred chariots will kick up a cloud of dust that we will be able to see from a great distance out at sea.’

Toran nodded but then insisted, ‘What about the smoke?’

‘It is one of the Hyksos’ many appealing habits to burn every village they capture, preferably with the inhabitants barricaded in the buildings. You can be sure their progress will be marked by clouds of dust and pillars of smoke. They truly are an unlovable people.’

As I had predicted, an hour past noon on the second day I spotted smoke rising from beyond a copse of trees not more than a few hundred paces inland of the curling line of low surf that was breaking on the shore.

I climbed to the masthead, from which vantage point I saw that the fires had been very recently lit. I could tell this was so because the column of smoke grew denser and rose higher as I watched it. Then more smoke sprang up from three other separate locations beyond the first column.

‘There goes another village and every living creature in it,’ I muttered, and at that moment I saw two female figures emerge from the bush and scrub above the beach. Both of them were running with terrified abandon. One of the women was carrying a little child over her shoulder, and she was looking back as she ran. They raced down through the yellow beach sand to the water’s edge and then turned to run along the damp verge where the sand was firmer under their feet. They were looking out at our ships and waving frantically to us.