The Philistine Warrior (12 page)
Then our boat touched dock. A splendid emissary of Pharaoh stepped upon the gangplank—having been a bit quicker than his rival, the equally splendid representative of the
Temple
of
Amon
. “Hail, Amphimachus, Lord Priest!” the first emissary called. “I bring you regrettable news: His Highness, Prince Ekosh, has been detained by the war. He’s still in
Nubia
, subduing rebels, his camp at
Fort
Semna
, some 350 miles south of here.” Delai’s heart must have sunk at this word, even though she could now postpone worrying about her first impression on the Prince. “Pharaoh suggests that the noble Lady, and the rest of your party, should all stay here in
Thebes
until Prince Ekosh returns,” the emissary concluded.
“High Priest Amenhotep of The Temple of Amon also suggests that you wait here,” the other emissary added.
“When will the Prince return?” Amphimachus asked the two rivals.
“No one can say,” they chorused.
Amphimachus asked us—Delai and me—to consider the matter.
“Oh, please, my Lord,” Delai begged, “let’s push on! I don’t want to be here in
Thebes
without my husband.”
“I cannot delay for long,” I added. “I must return to
Philistia
to prepare for the coming campaign.”
Amphimachus nodded and turned again to the emissaries: “We’ll stay here in
Thebes
for two days to rest and pay our respects to Pharaoh and
Temple
. Then we must depart for Semna.”
The emissaries, outdoing each other in courteous bows, retreated from our boat, leaving guides for us, and we prepared to disembark. It was good to be on land again and walk around, despite the heat. During our brief stay in
Thebes
, we visited the great tombs
of the pharaohs—some of which had been plundered during the time since Ramses
Egypt
.
As promised, we were presented to Pharaoh Rames IX, but no real conversation passed between us. Pharaoh appeared tired, and cut the audience short, uttering a few kind words which seemed to be addressed more to the universe in general than to us. We were then given a tour of the
Amon
Temple
; the priests there attempted to impress us with their good intentions—toward us and toward Pharaoh.
As we left the
Temple
, Amphimachus whispered, “What hypocrites!”
Then we resumed the long trip south. We changed boats at the First Cataract, where we were joined by several skiffs manned by soldiers. The land south of the Cataract was now—thanks to Ekosh—completely subjugated and safe for travel, but it felt good to have the soldiers along anyway, to augment my honor guard.
Two-thirds of the way from
Thebes
to Semna, we reached a spot on the
Nile
which engraved itself upon our memories. It was nighttime, with a full moon lighting up the river and its banks. Amphimachus had retired, but the rest of us couldn’t sleep, and so we relaxed on deck, fanning ourselves and admiring the cliffs which rose on both sides of the river.
Suddenly Rachel stood up and touched Delai: “Oh, Mistress, look,” she said in an awed whisper: “The God Ramses!” We went to the rail and gazed in reverent silence at the cliffs. Staring down on us were four colossal statues, each identical to the others, representing the Divine Pharaoh, Ramses II. The figures were seated, and their massive hands rested on gigantic legs; moonlight reflected off the whites of their eyes. The faces were set in impassive stares as the moonlight picked up their cheekbones. The pharaonic beards which adorned each countenance appeared, alone, to be taller than two men, and great crowns towered above the stone faces. These statues recalled the majesty of the greatest pharaoh of all time. We’d been told to expect them, but never did we dream that they’d be so huge, and so god-like!
Delai clasped her hands in prayer. Ramses, dead for well over a hundred years, was a mighty god from the golden age, a pharaoh who ruled a great and peaceful
Egypt
, before Goddess Chaos split the land apart. “Holy Ramses,” Delai prayed, “bring back peace to Thy lands from
Nubia
to
Phoenicia
. Peace and obedience to the gods….” Somehow the heavy weight of the great hands, and the immutable stare of the stone faces, comforted her. Rachel, too, stood enraptured, and I thought of the Great Pharaoh’s mighty war against the Hittites, so much a part of every Canaanite and Philistine legend. “It’s good to know He’s here, and always will be,” Delai whispered. “Ramses, the Holiest Pharaoh…here to watch over His river and His people….”
Our ship glided on until the colossi were no more than shadows on the cliff side. There were tears in Rachel’s eyes. “Don’t cry, Rachel,” Delai pleaded. “Perhaps He heard our prayers.”
Rachel put her hands over her face; I moved away so that mistress and servant could be alone together; yet I could still hear most of their conversation. “Mistress…I’m sorry about crying…it’s just that we’re so far from home…we’ve been drifting for weeks, and everything’s so different….”
“But, Rachel, you wanted to come. If you’re unhappy, I can have you sent back to Askelon when Phicol returns.”
“No, I don’t want to leave you,” Rachel replied, choking down her tears. “It’s just that, back then—when I was only a slave in your
Uncle’s palace—I never worried about where I was, or where I was going; but suddenly here I am and I don’t know what’s happening…I don’t even know why I’m crying now…but I’m twenty-five years old and unmarried…I don’t know…somehow none of this mattered when I was a slave.”
“Dear Rachel, maybe you’ll meet someone to love when we settle down in
Thebes
.” Delai put her arm around the servant girl.
“It’s not just that…oh, I don’t know….”
“Someday—soon—there’ll be peace for us all,” Delai whispered. The two lapsed into silence; their mood passed and gave way to sleep as they sat on the deck. I continued to pace around for a while longer.
We changed to light skiffs at the Second Cataract in order to navigate the
Nile
’s swift and turbulent waters. In another few days, we arrived at Semna, where
Egypt
’s great fortress towered above the jagged rocks of
Nubia
. The blockhouses and the wall itself were crumbling in places, but the fortress still constituted an important stronghold. On the gate, a Ram’s Head Standard indicated that a regiment of the God Amon was stationed there. Little papyrus skiffs moved about the dock; they were loaded with leopard skins, ostrich feathers, and great horns of ivory which (we learned) were not horns at all, but teeth, or “tusks,” of gigantic animals living in the south. No one among us Philistines ever claimed to have seen such beasts; and, indeed, the natives themselves said that these “tusks” were taken from bone yards rather than from living animals—and so I believe that they may be horns after all.
The natives were dark-skinned Nubians; they poled their skiffs down the river to the trading posts with their wares, often accompanied by their wives and children—and even by their tame “baboon” pets, the like of which we’d also never seen.
Our party landed at the fort and received a welcome from the garrison, soldiers turned out in the best uniforms available. The Governor saluted Delai with many salaams. She’d just enough time to wash and change her dress before trumpets announced the arrival from the field of Prince Ekosh and his army. When he reached the entrance to the Governor’s hall, all of the Egyptians there bowed to the ground. We were inside the hall, but Delai curtsied low even before Ekosh entered the building, keeping her gaze on the floor, almost as if she feared to look upon her future husband.
We heard a tired but commanding voice in conversation with the major domo, and then Prince Ekosh came inside and stepped over to Delai. “Rise, my child,” he told her—and, as Delai looked up, massive, rough-worn hands took hers and helped her to stand.
My heart was in my throat as the couple looked into each other’s eyes for the first time, and I prayed that Astarte might bless them…. The Prince was very tall, heavy but well built, with the weight of forty-five years of age and twenty-five years of war and government upon his scarred, creased face.
“I pray,” Delai began timidly, “I pray that I may please my Lord.” Her small fingers clung to his for support.
“You’ve already pleased me more than I can say,” the Prince replied. His gray eyes stared through her; his mouth was expressionless, yet he filled us all with a sense of his strength and tender regard. He turned then to the assembled frontier officialdom of Egypt and drew Delai to his side: “Gentlemen of Egypt,” he began, in a measured, quiet voice, “I present the Princess Delai, Priestess of Hathor-Astarte, noble Lady of Philistia, and my bride.” The crowd bowed low once again—to her this time—and Delai saluted them with practiced grace. Ekosh had honored her greatly by calling her “Princess” even before their marriage. Beside me, Rachel, too, bowed to her Lady; only Amphimachus and I remained standing while we saluted the royal couple—for Philistine aristocrats do not bow low to one another, only from the waist.
Your Highness,” Amphimachus greeted Ekosh, “it’s been over thirteen years, but I’ll bet you remember me.”
Ekosh nodded, smiling faintly: “Yes, I do remember you, venerable Lord Priest,” he replied.
Amphimachus continued: “I bring regards from your royal brother, the Melek, from the Sherens, and from all
Philistia
.” Ekosh acknowledged the greetings.
Then I stepped forward: “Your Highness, I am Phicol, son of Adinai, Commander of the Lady’s Guard. I once saw Your Highness when I was a small child—I remember looking up…and up…and up, at Your Highness!”
He shook my hand. “Of course, Captain Phicol, I remember you and your father.” He was not only polite but charming; yet I could tell that he wanted most of all to converse with Delai.
Still, there were more ceremonies, including gifts given and received. (Some of ours, for him, had been left behind in
Thebes
.) Then we all sat down to a modest banquet.
Prince Ekosh turned to his bride: “My Lady,” he told her, “was very brave and hardy to undergo the journey from
Thebes
; and she is also as beautiful as the messengers proclaimed.”
“My Lord is most kind,” she answered. The emotion in her voice could not be disguised, despite the formal phraseology
prescribed by court etiquette. “In any other’s company, I should be quite awkward and tongue-tied,” she concluded.
This was not, of course, strickly true, since I had never known Delai to be either truly awkward or tongue-tied for long; still, it would perhaps have been close to true about this, their first meeting—except that he had put her at ease from the start.
