Raiders of the Nile

XVII

Galloping as fast as I could, we headed south on the riverside trail. Trees and shrubs hemmed the way, so that I seemed to fly through a leafy tunnel, dazzled by flashes of slanting sunlight as morning broke across the Delta.

Why had I not left at once when Hepu delivered his warning? Whatever head start I might have had was gone. Behind me I heard men shouting, and the bleat of their camels. Could their camels outrun mine?

They drew closer and closer, until I could hear what they were shouting.

“Is he making for the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

“He must be one of the gang!”

“The danger-”

“Think of the reward!”

“Perhaps we should turn back-”

“Think of the ruby!”

So swiftly did I ride by the crocodile skull mounted on a pole that the strange image registered in my mind only after I had passed it. According to Hepu, it was the first notice that we were entering the territory of the Cuckoo’s Gang. Every part of me was already in a state of high alert-my heart pounding, my hands sweaty, my thoughts a blur-yet above all else I felt a quiver of dread.

The crocodile skull had an even more chilling effect on my pursuers, for the pounding of hooves behind me abruptly faded. I glanced back and saw that Harkhebi’s men had come to a halt and were frantically conferring, shaking their heads and gesturing wildly. The locals among them had recognized the warning sign, and refused to go on.

I seized the chance to lengthen my lead, and snapped the reins. “Hut! Hut!” I cried.

The wind raced in my ears. The dappled sunlight became a blur. Then, in the blink of an eye, I found myself desperately clutching Djet and whatever else I could grab hold of. Rounding a bend, we had come upon the trunk of a palm tree lying across the path. The camel cleared it with an awkward leap, then staggered forward, nearly throwing us as it struggled to regain its balance.

Hepu had spoken of such hazards. This was only the first. How soon would we encounter the next? What would happen if there were spikes in the roadbed, or a rope pulled taut across the way? I pulled on the reins, bringing the camel to a sudden halt. From this point onward, we had no choice but to proceed more slowly, I thought-then gave a start, as a nearby voice spoke my thoughts aloud.

“If you want to stay alive, slow down!”

To my left, a side path converged with the trail. There, on a camel, sat Menkhep. The burly shopkeeper and his mount were both breathing hard, as if they had raced to this spot to head me off, and had only just arrived. I made ready to snap the reins and race off, but Menkhep raised his hand.

“Calm yourself, Roman. Take a deep breath. Think! You’re going to need all your wits if you want to come out of this alive. And you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you? To do what?”

“To get you to the Cuckoo’s Nest, you fool! It’s either that, or face that bloodthirsty mob.”

I looked behind me. There was no sign yet of my pursuers.

“But … you, Menkhep?” said Djet, staring at him wide-eyed and stealing the words from my mouth. Hepu had spoken of go-betweens and informers who lived in the workaday world but who were also part of the Cuckoo’s Gang. I would never have suspected genial, easygoing Menkhep.

“Ever since my wife died. My trading post sits on the outskirts of the gang’s territory. I’m their eyes and ears. I take a good look at everyone who passes through. Most travelers are harmless. Some are dangerous. A few are worth robbing. And a very, very few are worth recruiting.”

“And me?”

“Worth recruiting, for sure-and worth robbing!” Menkhep laughed. “I’m thinking the Cuckoo’s Child will be quite pleased when I bring him the notorious cutthroat thief of Canopus.”

I shook my head. “But I’m not-”

“I must admit, I’d never have guessed you were so dangerous. When that mob from the village arrived at dawn, and the fellow from Sais told me who you were, I could scarcely believe it. They invited me to join them and share in the reward. Instead, I took this shortcut-and here we are. Are you really carrying a ruby as large as a hen’s egg?”

I sighed. “It’s smaller than that.”

“Still, the Cuckoo’s Child will be very pleased to see both you and your treasure. You’re quite a catch, young Roman.”

I bristled. “Am I to be your guest, Menkhep, or your prisoner?”

He grinned. “Maybe both.”

I shook my head, desperately wishing I had some other choice-then gave a start. From up the trail I heard a rallying cry, followed by cheers.

“They’ve made up their minds to come after you, despite the danger,” said Menkhep. “Greed triumphs over common sense, as usual. Now listen! Follow me, and do exactly as I do. Go at the speed I go, no faster and no slower. When you see me keep to one side of the trail, do likewise. Otherwise, you’ll end up with your head cut off or an arrow in your guts. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I heard clattering hooves, and cast a nervous glance behind us. The first of the pursuers came into sight.

Menkhep wheeled his camel about and set off without another word.

“Hold tight, Djet,” I whispered, and followed.

Menkhep kept to a steady pace, neither fast nor slow. I gnashed my teeth with impatience as our pursuers drew closer. Did Menkhep not realize how quickly they were gaining on us? Then I heard a cry of terror, and looked back. The man leading the pack went flying off his camel as the beast tripped over the palm trunk lying across the path.

Menkhep glanced back. “One down!” he shouted.

So it went. My skills as a camel rider were pressed to their limit as I followed Menkhep, veering this way and that, mimicking his movements as precisely as I could, trusting that he knew the snares and traps along the way and how to avoid them. Behind us, our reckless pursuers were less fortunate as they encountered one hazard after another. Some of these hazards were merely inconvenient. Others were deadly.

That long, jostling, breathless ride took on the quality of a comical nightmare. Again and again one of our pursuers gained on us and drew close, so that I could hear the man shouting behind me and could see his face clearly if I dared to look over my shoulder. Again and again some terrible fate befell these pursuers.

We came to a place where the path split in two around a clump of foliage that grew like an island in the middle. We veered to the left. Our nearest pursuer veered to the right-and went plunging, camel and all, into a shallow pit concealed by palm branches. The camel bellowed in pain. The rider went flying through the air.

The path widened. We kept to the right side. The pursuer breathing down my neck rode straight down the middle, and struck a trigger that caused a barrier on a hinge to spring across the path, knocking camel and rider both to the ground. The next pursuer, following too closely to stop, collided with the fallen rider.

With this obstacle effectively blocking the path, the pursuit ended, at least for a while. Menkhep took the opportunity to slacken our pace, which was a good thing, for the hazards grew ever more frequent and more dangerous, and it required all my strength and attention to keep up and follow his movements exactly.

Eventually, the path behind us must have been cleared, for more pursuers came thundering after us. One by one they dropped by the wayside, felled by a variety of ingenious traps-arrows released by hidden triggers, slingshots set off by tripwires-until only one dogged pursuer remained. As the path twisted and turned, I tried to get a look at the man, and at last I caught a glimpse of his long beard flapping like a pennant in the dappled sunlight. It was Harkhebi.

The oldest of the pursuers he might have been, but perhaps he was also the most experienced on camelback, and the most cautious, which accounted for his survival thus far. But if Harkhebi was that cautious, why did he not give up the pursuit? Having tracked me-and the ruby-all the way from Canopus, and having come so close to catching me, the old man must have found it impossible to abandon the hunt. Even wise men lose all common sense when caught up in the thrill of the chase.

If Harkhebi had had his way, my head would have been cut off and sent back to Canopus as a trophy. My body would have been defiled and my memory blackened, and who knows what might have become of Bethesda, or of Djet, for that matter? I had no reason to shed a tear for Harkhebi. Still, his fate sent a shudder through me.

The trail widened. The leafy tunnel opened, and I saw blue sky above. The road rose before me, heading slightly uphill. Behind me, I heard Harkhebi shout encouragement to his camel. His hoarse voice sounded very close.

Ahead of me, Menkhep veered suddenly to the left, off the trail entirely. His beast knew the way, and made the small leap onto a low shelf of rock without breaking stride. Could my mount do likewise, at such a speed and at such short notice? It seemed madness to follow Menkhep, but I pulled hard on the reins to steer the camel sharply to the left.

I felt the beast resist. I had no time to think. I pulled the reins harder. At the last possible instant, the camel made the leap and went clattering along behind Menkhep.

Harkhebi may have attempted the same maneuver-I heard him shout something-but if so, his camel could not or would not respond in time, and instead went hurtling forward.

Just beyond the crest of the low hill, a deep, narrow trench ran all the way across the road. Had the camel been traveling at a slower pace it might have seen the trench in time, and simply stepped across it. But the ingenious placement rendered the trench invisible to anyone traveling at a gallop until it was too late. The camel’s forelegs landed in the narrow trench, causing it to stumble and pitch violently forward.

Harkhebi was thrown from the beast and went flying through the air. He did not land on the road, for this was where the road ended. Where the road should have been there was a long, wide pit as deep as a man is tall, filled with wooden stakes set close together and sharpened to a fine point.

I didn’t see him land in the pit, but I heard his cry as he hurtled through the air, and then his scream as he landed on the spikes, accompanied by sounds of his body being punctured in many places-ripping, gasping, liquid sounds quite unlike anything I had ever heard before, and would never want to hear again.

Menkhep drew his camel to a halt, then circled back to take a look. I followed. At the edge of the pit, the camels turned their heads away and nervously stamped their forelegs. It was a curious thing, I thought, that two dumb animals should be more squeamish than the creatures who rode them.

Djet cried out at the terrible sight. Too late, I covered his eyes with my hand.

Since Harkhebi had landed front-down, we were at least spared the sight of his face. The stakes impaling him glistened with blood and gore. He continued to live for a short while-unless, as sometimes happens, the rattling of breath and the convulsing of limbs were the spasms of a man already dead. Then his arms and legs contracted, his chest deflated, his hands curled into claws, and Harkhebi moved no more.

I saw that many of the stakes were darkened by older bloodstains. Harkhebi was not the first victim of the pit.

I felt compelled to call his name. “Harkhebi?”

He made no answer. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and spoke more loudly. “Harkhebi?”

The silence was broken by a plaintive sound from his camel, which lay on its side before the pit, thrashing its limbs and unable to stand. The poor beast had broken both forelegs.

Menkhep snorted. “A city father from Sais, he called himself. A wise old man, supposedly. He should have known better than to follow us all this way, the crazy fool! What a mess will have to be cleaned up-not just here, but all up and down the trail.”

“Cleaned up?” I said.

“Corpses must be stripped of their valuables and disposed of. Traps must be reloaded and reset. Camels must be rescued, or put out of their misery. I shall take care of this beast now.” He pulled the dagger from the scabbard at his waist. “What a lot of work for the Cuckoo’s Gang! I hope you’re worth the bother, Roman.”

Menkhep stared at me with a stiff jaw and eyes like flint. Where was the easygoing shopkeeper with whom I had dined the previous night? What sort of man had I followed into this place of merciless death, from which there could be no turning back?