Desert God. Wilbur Smith

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СКАЧАТЬ them. So I had the discarded Hyksos equipment bundled up securely and packed away below decks.

      With the wind directly behind us, our sails bulging and our banks of oars rising and falling like the silver wings of a wedge of great white swans in flight, we ran on southwards. These Minoan triremes were the largest and swiftest ships afloat. Despite the massive burden of men and silver they carried their speed was exhilarating. Added to the speed there was an infectious excitement in knowing that we were heading homewards which put my men in high spirits.

      As we left the delta and its myriad tributaries behind us and sailed out at last into the main river the three ships of our flotilla spread out into a line abreast and raced each other southwards. The crews shouted challenges and friendly abuse from one trireme to the other.

      We flew past anchored fishing boats and swiftly overtook other small vessels laden with produce and trade goods. In passing I could look down into them from the height of our upper deck. I saw a few Egyptian faces amongst the crews who stared up at us in astonishment as we passed them, but most of them were Hyksos.

      It is a simple matter for me to tell the difference between these two races. My Egyptians are a handsome people with lively and intelligent faces, high foreheads, large widely spaced eyes, and finely etched features. In short, one is usually able to tell at a glance that they are a superior race.

      The Hyksos on the other hand have very few of these attributes. I am not in any way mindlessly prejudiced against them. However, I do have every reason to loathe them with a deep and bitter hatred. They are thieves and bandits; every one of them, with no exception whatsoever. They delight in cruelty and torture. Their coarse and guttural language offends the ears of civilized men. They worship Seth who is the foulest of all the gods. They have stolen our land from us, and enslaved our people.

      But I am not a bigot. I abhor those who are. Indeed I have tried my very best to find laudable traits in the Hyksos national character. All the gods know that it is not my fault that I have discovered none.

      Now as I looked down upon examples of this unfortunate race, an idle thought occurred to me that at some time in future it might be appropriate for me to express my disapproval in a more definite and unambiguous manner. I should make a gesture that even King Beon might fully recognize as being well deserved.

      That will be a joyous day indeed for all Egyptians, I mused. I smiled, and then the thought hardened in my mind: Why should that day not be sooner rather than later? The entire plan sprang into my mind almost fully formed, conception to birth taking place in moments.

      I had seen a number of papyrus scrolls and a writing tablet in the captain’s cabin on the lower deck. The Cretans are a literate people. They employ a variation of cuneiform not dissimilar to that of the Sumerians. I can read and recognize the symbols although I confess that at that time I was not yet conversant with the Minoan language.

      As one would expect, the Hyksos are entirely illiterate. However, I had learned through my spies that they have captured and enslaved Egyptian scribes whom they force to read, write and translate our hieroglyphics for them.

      I also knew that they had learned from these same scribes the use of birds in sending their messages swiftly over great distances. Like the apes the Hyksos are great imitators; although they are seldom able to solve a problem with original thought, they are often able to plagiarize the inventions of greater minds than their own.

      I excused myself from Zaras with a few short words and hurried down into the cabin below the main deck. The writing equipment was where I had last seen it. It was contained in an ornate casket decorated with miniature paintings of Thoth, the ibis-headed god of writing.

      I sat cross-legged on the deck and opened the writing case. To my delight I saw that apart from the papyrus scrolls of different sizes and shapes, and a selection of brushes and ink blocks, the case contained four miniature pods the size of my thumbnail, skilfully woven from strands of hair from a horse’s mane. The pods could be knotted to the leg of one of the common pigeons that we breed for eating. These birds also have a strange ability to return unerringly to the same coop in which they were hatched from the egg, unwittingly carrying with them one of the tiny message pods attached to their leg.

      Swiftly I chose a scrap of papyrus small enough to fit into a pigeon pod. Then I selected the finest of the writing brushes and ground a fresh batch of ink from the block of carbon.

      I did not have to ponder the composition of my message for it was clear in my mind. When necessary I am able to form hieroglyphics which are not only tiny and closely painted but also lucid and legible, for I have been gifted with a fine writing hand.

      ‘To mighty Beon, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt.’ I opened with the customary salutation. Of course he was none of these things, but those attributes are amongst those to which he aspires. ‘I, Supreme Minos of Crete, greet you. As an earnest of my friendship and favour I am sending to Your Grace three of my great treasure ships laden with tribute. They will sail on the second day of the month of Epiphi from my outpost at Tamiat in the delta of the Nile. I trust that they will reach your palace at Memphis on the fifth day of that same month. I have delayed informing you of these events until the final hours to prevent this intelligence falling into the hands of evil men before it comes to your noble attention. I trust in your amity to receive these gifts in the same spirit of respect and accord as that in which they are sent.’

      As soon as the ink on it dried I rolled my little scroll carefully and placed it in one of the pigeon pods. This I sealed with a glue of gum arabic. Then I left the cabin and descended to the lower deck and went to the door of the cargo hold.

      The lock had not been repaired since Zaras’ rough treatment. It opened readily to my hand. I closed it again behind me. The chest which I had opened to inspect its contents stood apart. The lid was not firmly secured. I prised it open again with the dagger which was part of my Cretan costume. Then I knelt beside it and took out one of the silver ingots. It was heavy but I placed it in the pouch on my belt. Then I returned to the upper deck and took my place at Zaras’ side. I spoke to him quietly so that none of the crew could hear my words.

      ‘Within the next hour we should reach the river port of Kuntus where Beon maintains a customs post to collect taxes from all passing ships—’

      Zaras interrupted me with a chuckle. ‘That is of no consequence, Master Taita. We will not be long delayed. I will brush them aside like mosquitoes …’

      ‘No, Zaras. You will back your oars and sails to let the customs boat come alongside. When it does you will show them all respect. I must bespeak the tax collector, because I need his cooperation.’ I turned away to the ship’s side before he could pester me with more questions. The truth was I was uncertain of what to expect when we reached Kuntus.

      We sped on up the river, taking all other shipping by complete surprise. We were the swiftest ships on the Nile. Even a man on horseback could not outrun us to give prior warning of our approach. As soon as they saw us coming up against the stream every boat tried to avoid us, either by running into the bank or by dropping their sails and turning to the north to allow the current to carry them out of our way. They did not know who we were. But in these uneasy times fraught with the smoke clouds of war looming over all the world no sensible man took chances.

      When we swept around another wide bend in the river I saw the port of Kuntus lying on the east bank ahead of us. I recognized it by the tall stone-built watchtower on the hill above the town. There was a large black flag waving from a pole set on top of the tower. This was the emblem of the tax collector. I knew that he would have men posted on top of the tower to watch for any vessel that tried to slip past without paying its dues.

      As we sailed closer СКАЧАТЬ