The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate

XIII – The River of Darkness

Bessas, Myron, Kothar, Skhâ, and Shimri sat on the edge of a steep brown bluff near Meroê. Below them the azure Nile flowed placidly northward, while above, thin white veils of cirrus wafted across the face of the high hot sun. Bessas spoke:

"Men, I have brought you out here so that we could talk freely without our Arabian friends' overhearing. I have asked in Meroê how travel hence to southward is managed, and this is what I have learnt.

"He who would journey up the River of Darkness meets a peculiar hindrance, to wit: ignorance of the value of silver and gold. To one of Myron's philosophers this might seem an ideal state of affairs, but it makes the way hard for the farer. The distances are too great and the country too difficult for the traveler to take all his food with him; but wherewith shall he buy more from the locals?

"The usual trade goods, I am told, are iron hoes and spearheads, beads, and salt, which comes in little brown cones. Howsomever, these trifles are exceedingly heavy and bulky for their worth.

"Moreover, not all kinds are acceptable everywhere. Thus one tribe may refuse iron spearheads for some superstitious reason; another will accept red beads but not those of any other hue. Therefore the traveler must needs carry a vast fardel of trade goods of all kinds, to ward against being stranded and perishing of starvation.

"So it seems we shall have to bear much more dead weight than before. The established method is to hire fifty or a hundred Kushites as bearers, and another score or more of soldiers to guard the bearers. And these must all be fed.

"Now, Zayd means to return to his oasis as soon as I pay him off on the morrow. But our reckonings show that one of his camels can easily bear seven, eight, or even ten times as much as a human porter. Therefore, these beasts can carry more than can a hundred Kushites, even counting the weight of their riders.

"Moreover, camels will not desert, or mutiny, or rob and rape the natives and thus embroil us in unwanted conflict. They live off the leaves of thorn trees, whereas the Kushites must be fed and led, bullied and cajoled. Dip me in dung, but it seems pure folly to hire scores of wayward, lustful, and foolish men when these docile beasts can do the work!

"Since our plans have perforce been changed by the matter of Takarta's treasure, I therefore purpose to make Zayd a sporting offer: to carry us to the sources of the Nile, in return for half of the part of the treasure remaining after Puerma has taken his moiety; that is to say, one quarter of the total."

The men looked at one another. Skhâ asked: "How much will the treasure come to?"

"By the thousand senses of Azi Dahaka, how should I know? The tale avers it was borne through Meroê on the back of an ass, so it could hardly come to more than three talents of gold."

All fell to discussing how much three talents of gold would be. The two younger men became wildly excited when calculations, made by drawing figures in the dirt, showed that this would be the equivalent of about a hundred and thirty thousand shekels of silver.

"A kingly fortune!" cried Skhâ. "By Ashtarth's pubic zone; do you mean you would give half of that to a lot of flea-bitten sand thieves? The whole crew and their beasts cost us less than five shekels a day!"

Bessas smiled grimly. "When you can fare over waterless wastes as ably as these men do, Skhâ, it will be time enough to scorn them. And you forget several things. One is that Puerma gets half of the total, leaving half for Zayd and me to divide betwixt us. The other is that the sum I gave was but the upper limit. We may find that this fabled treasure is nought but a handful of tarnished silver, or that it has been scattered or destroyed, or that it never existed save in some flap-tongued fellow's fancy."

Myron looked at his friend with new respect. Ever since his disastrous game with Puerma, Bessas had seemed more mature. The big fellow was now less the roistering, reckless ruffian and more the thoughtful and responsible leader.

Skhâ said: "Of course, we can promise them aught and give them the slip later—"

"Enough!" barked Bessas. "I keep my word, whatever others may do." He continued-: "Now, I have formed an opinion of Zayd, having dealt with men of his ilk in the deserts of Aryana. I am sure that, if I try to haggle with him and compel him to go on with us at his present rate of pay, he'll refuse. He waxes impatient to see his clan and get his hands once more on the reins of his tribal affairs. But offer him a chance at a daring exploit, with a hope of vast wealth at the end, and methinks he'll come."

Shimri, chewing a stalk of grass, asked: "How—how about us? What share have we of this treasure?"

"I propose that we divide the quarter remaining to us into eight parts. Of these, I as captain shall receive three parts, Myron as my lieutenant shall have two, and the rest of you one each. At least, that's how the pirates of the Hyrkanian Sea divide their loot. Is any man so hardy as to gainsay me? Good; we have decided."

On the last day of Duuzu, the expedition assembled for the march to southward. Besides Bessas, his four men, and Phyllis, there were the shaykh and his daughter, each riding a camel, and five other Arabs of the Banu Khalaf, riding and leading nineteen more of the beasts. One Arab and a camel had been sent back to the Fifty-League Oasis, while one new man had been added to the party. This was Merqetek the guide. Merqetek was a Dankala from Karutjet, a slight man with a sly grin that bent the tribal scars on his raisin-colored cheeks.

"Well," said Bessas, walking up and down before the line of waiting men and laden beasts, "henceforth we shall have no letters from princes and politicians to smooth our way. I'll wager no man south of here can read. Tighten that girth, Shimri."

Myron mused: "I wonder if we did right to decline those soldiers Puerma offered us. At a ha'penny a day, we could surely have afforded them."

" 'Tis not the money but the time. They'd have wended afoot and halved our speed."

"Suppose ten thousand naked blacks assail us—"

"Then we should be no stronger with forty than with fourteen. As we stand, we have at least a chance to outrun them on our beasts." Bessas shook his massive head. "Nay, for speed give me a small party. Further, I have had somewhat to do with unlettered tribesmen on the other frontiers. Unless "you drag an army with you, your best protection is to move swiftly and mind your own business. If you linger, you give the barbarians time to think, and they may think either that you mean them ill, or that they can profit by robbing you."

"At least, I am not sorry to see the last of fabled Meroê. For a capital city, it's the dullest and dirtiest place of my experience."

Shaykh Zayd, astride his kneeling camel, caught the drift of Myron's words and said: "You Hellenes are spoilt with your city-dwelling! By Hah and Hat, only we badawin know how to live so that such tilings are not needed. Bide with us for a year and you will never wish to sleep within walls again!"

Bessas poetized:

The Bactrian was in high good humor. The ten-day of waiting in Meroê for Puerma to return had jut him into his foulest mood', but since that low point he had steadily waxed more cheerful.

It was well, thought Myron, that someone felt thus. He himself had swallowed a knot of apprehension, which stubbornly remained in his stomach. A dozen times a day he told himself that he had been a fool to come on this jaunt and should begin devising excuses for turning back. And a dozen times a day he berated himself for cowardice, inconstancy, and neglect of a matchless opportunity to advance the knowledge of man.

"Where in demon land is Skhâ?" demanded Bessas. "I'll wager the whoreson little knave is off having a final canter on a pallet."

"Here he comes," said Myron. "But—who's that with him?"

Skhâ, approaching from the gate, led by the hand a tall, slender young woman in a Kushite kilt. "Here we are!" he cried gaily. "This is Katimar, the wench of whom I told you. Some of the Arabs and I clubbed together to buy her."

"And what," rumbled Bessas, "do you purpose to do with her?"

"Bring her along, of course, to serve us."

"Who said you might add servants to our company? And afoot, too, so that they would slow us?"

"That is no matter. She can keep up with us."

Myron, looking the girl over, realized that she was six feet tall and well-built. She grinned amiably, showing a large mouthful of gleaming white teeth.

"Take her back," said Bessas.

"But captain! We have paid good silver—"

"Take her back, I said! If her former owner will not give you back the full price, that is your ill luck."

"I will not! We will not face the wilderness without a woman to comfort us! Myron has his Macedonian, and you have the Arab wench—"

"Why, you foul-minded little—" snarled Bessas, starting for Skhâ with hand on hilt and murder in his eyes.

"Gentlemen!" cried Myron, throwing himself between them. "Let's not quarrel just as we are setting forth. I think we can come to a reasonable agreement."

"Well?" said Bessas, holding himself in. with effort.

"Permit the girl to accompany us as far as Soba, to see how things work out. If it transpire that she does in fact encumber us, we can dispose of her there."

Bessas glowered at Skhâ, who had dodged behind the donkey purchased for Phyllis. "Very well. But I shall make the final decision, and no one who knows what is good for him shall gainsay me."

The road south to Soba led through a broad flat plain of pink sandy soil, covered by a sparse fuzz of dry golden-yellow grass. This pastel plain was stippled with large grayish-green trees, armed with millions of long straight thorns, as white as serpents' fangs and fully as sharp.

Here and there rose isolated outcrops, towering up to a height of a hundred feet. They were weathered into strange forms, like the ruins of castles built by giants. Others resembled pieces of unfinished statuary, with separated blocks in the shapes of cubes, spheres, and cones.

On this leg of the journey, the three girls spent much time together, even though Salimat and Katimar had no language in common. Phyllis and Salimat could converse in bad Aramaic, while Phyllis and Katimar could talk in broken Kushite.

Despite the wide differences of race and background among the three, the fact of being the only women in a large and motley band of men drew them close together. All were kept busy, Salimat with managing the camels and their riders, Katimar with cookery, and Phyllis with the mending of garments. The black girl had turned out to be a better cook than the Macedonian, whose only culinary method was to fry everything in oil.

Myron was greatly pleased with Phyllis, who made life much more comfortable for him. Once he even thought he was falling in love with her. The prospect alarmed him, as he deemed this state of mind unwholesome and dangerous, as well as unsuited to his age.

On the other hand, he was just as happy not to have too much of Phyllis' company at any one time. She was a tireless talker, filling his ears with pointless tales of her very ordinary life in Aineia and ever boasting of her Corinthian ancestry. The gentle flow of verbiage kept on even when Myron wanted silence in which to think deep thoughts.

For the first two days out of Meroê, Katimar kept up with the company. Her long stride matched the walk of the beasts of burden, and when they trotted she trotted with them. Finding her skirt a hindrance, she stowed it among the baggage and ran naked.

On the third day, however, she developed a sore foot. An hour was wasted in vociferous argument as to which animal she should ride and how the loads should be shifted to accommodate her. At last she was placed behind Salimat on the latter's camel. She screeched with terror as the beast rose with its rocking-horse motion, and she clung fearfully to the shaykh's daughter as she stared down from her vertiginous height.

On the afternoon of the fourth day they came to the junction of the two great rivers that make up the Nile: the Astapous and the Astasobas. A large sandy island, ribbed with palms, lay in the midst of the confluence.

Birds swarmed by millions; their clamor made the ears ring. Thousands of ducks and geese flew over the river. Cranes, herons, egrets, ibis, storks, and spoonbills waded in the shallows. Pelicans plunged for fish. Darters perched on trees, drying their half-opened wings. Hawks, eagles, and eagle-hawks wheeled high overhead.

Enormous crocodiles lay on the beaches with their mouths open, while small birds cleaned their fangs. The shores were heavily thicketed with thorny acacias and mimosas. From an overcast sky a light rain—the first that Myron had seen since leaving Persepolis—pattered down upon the dusty plain.

Merqetek led the company up the Astapous for two leagues to Soba, a mud-walled village. Here, said Merqetek, a ferry crossed the Astapous. Thereby they could gain its south side and resume their march along the Astasobas.

Camped outside Soba, Bessas called his people together. " 'Tis as I warned you, lads. The black wench cannot keep up with us. So, since speed is of the essence, she cannot continue with us."

"What shall we do with her?" wailed Skhâ.

Bessas shrugged. "She is your property. Sell her, give her away, or free her; it is all one to me. But tomorrow we wend without her."

"You could buy another beast, like the ass you purchased for Phyllis."

"Belike, but I will not. I'll not further clutter our company with unneeded people, and that is my final word." He stalked off, muttering to Myron, who walked beside him: "A pox on this business of bringing women on an expedition! If you let one in, somebody will surely find an excuse for fetching another, until we have a troop of them."

"What else could I have done with Phyllis?"

"I blame you not; but see how this thing grows! Were there no woman at all, the knaves might forego their horizontal sports, at least outside of cities; but let the leaders enjoy the company of women and the rest will think of nothing else—especially a billygoat of a man like Skhâ, who makes a career of what should be only a healthy hobby."

They walked on up the Astapous, talking of many things, until the setting of the sun and the emptiness of their stomachs reminded them to return to camp. They had almost reached it when they were brought up short by the sound of screams. Salimat and Phyllis appeared, running towards them. As the girls came near, they panted:

"C-come quickly! They are slaying Katimar!"

Bessas and Myron ran and soon burst upon the scene. Three Arabs held the screaming and struggling Katimar, so that her neck lay across a log.. Standing beside the group with his sword out, Skhâ prepared to cut off the young woman's head. At the sight of Bessas, however, he stepped back.

"What is this?" demanded the Bactrian.

"We are killing the wench, that is all," said Skhâ.

"Why?"

"Because no one in Soba will buy her. Rather than loose her for some other man to enjoy without paying, we decided to kill her. She is after all our property."

"You mother-futtering sons of serpents!" roared Bessas, while the Karian gaped in astonishment. "Dung-eating defilers of holy places! Let her up forthwith!" Bessas kicked one of the Arabs in the ribs, so that all quickly scrambled up. Katimar threw herself at Bessas' feet, kissing the toes of his boots.

"You said we might do with her as we liked!" cried Skhâ hotly.

"Shut up, you bloody little swine! O Shaykh, why did you not put a stop to this?"

"But, my lord, she is only a woman, a slave, and a black! What is the fate of such a contemptible creature to me?"

"How about you, Kothar?"

"I did protest, sir, but they paid me no heed."

"A fine pack of murderers," snorted Bessas. "Kothar, ask her whether, if we free her now, she can find her way home."

Katimar dried her tears and burst into an eager smile. "She says she can easily do so, if given a little food to take with her."

Bessas gave Katimar not only some food, but also a good knife and a fistful of trade copper. The last Myron saw of her, she was limping up the Astapous towards the land of the Megabarri, scores of leagues to the east. And for many days Skhâ sulked, refusing to speak either to Bessas or to Myron save in line of duty.

The ferry at Soba was a rickety little boat of sycamore planks sewn together with cords of palm fiber, holding three including the boatman. Half a day was spent in taking travelers and baggage across and towing beasts of burden by their bridles.

South of Soba the vegetation thickened. A forest of towering gum trees lined the banks of the Astasobas. The sausage tree, the soap tree, and the tamarind appeared. In the shallows of the river grew clumps of papyrus, lifting its feathery fronds eight or ten cubits above the flood.

This gallery forest hid the river from the travelers, save when they stamped and hacked a way through the tangle to reach the water. Their coming disturbed the crocodiles and the herds of hippopotami, which floated with only their eyes, ears, and nostrils showing. Although the greenery was a relief after so many leagues of desert, the insects became annoying.

Outside the forested strips along the river, the land stretched away in a grassy steppe. This plain, rarely interrupted by low hills, was dotted with squat, flat-topped, thorny acacias and deep-red termite hills. Across the river, sand dunes formed the skyline. Antelopes, wild asses, and giraffes appeared in the distance. At night, lions roared, leopards snarled, bushbucks barked, reed-bucks whistled, and hyenas uttered their mirthful yells.

Once a great slate-colored rhinoceros lumbered out from behind a thicket, blinking and twitching its ears. It uttered a volcanic snort, lowered its head, and took a few menacing steps towards the travelers. The horses began to neigh, the asses to bray, and the camels to roar, while all the animals danced with terror. Bessas unsheathed his bow, but Merqetek rode up, shouting in Kushite and Egyptian. Kothar translated:

"He says not to shoot; it will but enrage the brute! He says for all of us to shout and scream!"

The travelers howled and hallooed, while Merqetek, producing a pair of wooden billets, beat them together with a valiant clatter. The rhinoceros snorted, turned, and trotted off across the plain, with its little cloud of tick birds fluttering after it.

The days and the river crept past. The monotonous plain stretched weary leagues to the flat horizon. As they proceeded south, the grass of the prairie lengthened and the thorny trees of the scrub grew larger.

Myron found himself a little disillusioned with Phyllis. Tiring of her gentle but never-ending talk of life in Aineia and her noble ancestry, he tried to educate her by lectures on the world and the theories of priests and philosophers about it. But he quit when he saw that such talk bored her as much as her chatter of home and pedigree bored him.

So Phyllis spent more time with Salimat. Bessas often joined them when they were resting or eating, sending them into gales of giggles with his chaff and beguiling them with tales of his adventurous past.

"Sit down and join us, old man," said Bessas genially to Myron one day. "I was telling the lassies about the time my half brother Moccus and I journeyed across Hind. This country is so stocked with gods that it is easier to meet a god than a man, and Mithra knows the land has a plenty of men.

"After we left mighty Pataliputra, we beat our way to Supara, near the western coast. On the way we fell in with another wanderer, named Shunga, from the Persian provinces of Hind. Gods, but he was a rascal! He dyed his whiskers blue and put on an air of the gravest piety, but he'd steal a bowl of porridge from a puppy dog.

"If a man tell you that the streets of India are paved with pearls, cast the lie back in his teeth. Nor do pigs run about the streets ready roasted. To be sure, the kings and priests are rich, but that is the case in other lands, and the vulgus has as much ado to keep ahead of hunger as elsewhere.

"It is hard for the traveler in Hind to earn an honest living, because all occupations are regulated by ancestry. Every man must follow his father's trade, according to the class into which he is born, and there is nothing left for the stranger to do. Nor will they ever change their ways. When an Indian says, 'This is not according to custom,' that ends the matter.

"Hence we reached Supara nigh to starving, having run out of gold and silver and failing to find a way to get our hands on more. We were reduced to filching melons in the market place when Shunga told us of a great cave temple near Supara. This temple was, he said, full of gold and jewels to be had for the taking.

"Now, I am not uncommonly pious, but I like not to meddle with gods, especially strange gods on whose mercy I have no claim. But Shunga talked us round. He was worse than you Greeks at finding fancy reasons for doing things one wants but ought not to do.

"This temple was quarried out of the side of a mountain. Behind an ornamental stone gateway lay a short corridor, which widened out into a series of chambers: first the hall of offerings, then the dancing hall, then the hall of assembly, and lastly the shrine, a small room wherein stood the statue of the god Vishnu.

"Shunga had a scheme for getting into the shrine, namely: to make friends with the guard on duty at the entrance, ply him with rice wine laced with a decoction of poppy seeds, and thus put him to sleep. Shunga assured us that on this particular night there would be no ceremony, so all we had to do was to wait until the priests were asleep, pry loose a few kings' ransoms' worth of jewels from the statue, and flit out again.

"Getting in proved easy. With my heart beating like a blacksmith's hammer, I followed Shunga through the halls and into the shrine, where rose the great four-armed statue of the god, with a shawl of cloth of gold draped over his shoulders. Shunga lit a tiny lamp, set it in a corner, and covered it with a cone of oiled sheepskin, so that enough light came through to keep us from stumbling over our own feet.

"We were prowling around the statue, trying to decide which of the glorious rubies and emeralds and sapphires and opals and sardonyxes and topazes and other baubles to pry out first, when Moccus gave a little yelp and whispered: 'Ye gods, what is that?'

" 'That is only the sacred python,' said Shunga. 'Pay it no heed; it is probably drugged. Boost me up so that I can get at the jewels on the statue's girdle.'

"We had begun to do this when light and sound from the outer chambers warned us that something was toward. And there we were, trapped at the bottom of a bag, just as Myron and I were in that damned Egyptian tomb.

"Shunga put out his light, and we clustered behind the statue. Soon the audience hall was lit by torches, brightly enough to read by. Peering around the legs of the god, we saw a gallant procession coming towards us. Shunga whispered: 'The gods have mercy on us, but that fat fellow with the fancy feathers in his turban is the king of Supara. He has come to ask the god some question.'

The king's soldiers stood at attention in rows on the sides of the audience chamber, and the king and his ministers stood in a glittering knot in the center. The priests banged on gongs and blew on conchs and danced and chanted. It was a brave spectacle, albeit I should have enjoyed it more under other circumstances. I said:

" 'What will they do? Say a prayer and go away?'

" 'No such luck,' said Shunga. 'See, they are melting butter over that lamp to the right. The high priest will bring the bowl of melted butter in here and daub the statue with it. Then he will pray to the god for guidance and tell the king what he thinks the god has put into his mind to say.'

" 'We had better do something quickly, then,' quoth I.

" 'Aye, but what?' said Shunga. 'I have been praying, but in view of the sacrilege we were about to perpetrate, I do not think the gods will extend themselves to help us.' Then he glanced from me to the statue and back. 'Make me a spider in my next incarnation, but you are the spit and image of Vishnu! Look!'

"I durst not peer around the statue, lest I discover myself to the throng in the audience hall, but I saw what he meant. Aside from the fact that the god had twice as many arms as I, we looked not unlike. Shunga said; 'We will put this likeness to use. Have you heard the legend of the churning of the Sea of Milk?'

" 'Nay,' said I. So, whilst arraying me as much like the god as he could, Shunga told us how, acting in concert, the gods and the demons once churned the Sea of Milk, using Mount Mandara as the churn and the cosmic serpent Vasuki as the churn rope. Thus they created the Nectar of Immortality and other delightsome things.

"Meanwhile Shunga stripped me to the waist, took from his wallet the blue dye that he used on his beard, and rubbed it on my face and arms until I was blue all over. For a crown he crushed in the point of that cone of sheepskin wherewith he had covered the lamp and set the thing on my head. He hung round my neck his own necklace of beads, which was all the jewelry we had left amongst us. And he draped the god's golden shawl about my waist and made me doff my boots. Then he altered his own costume and that of Moccus.

"Following his instructions, we lifted the sacred serpent out of its cage. Then, as the priest approached the shrine with his bowl of butter, we stepped forth into the torchlight and went into our dance, which depicted the myth of the churning of the Sea of Milk.

"Shunga and Moccus each held one end of the snake and sawed it back and forth as if working one of those Indian churns, which is twirled by means of a rope twisted about its shaft. Between the two I did an Indian dance, waving my sword in one hand and the lamp in the other. I was a lively dancer in those days and had watched many Indian dances, so my imitation was not too bad.

"When we appeared, everyone in the audience room went rigid. We had done a dozen steps when the high priest screamed: 'Great god Vishnu!' and cast himself down on his face. So did the king and the ministers and the soldiers and whoever else was there. I was too busy with the steps of my dance to count the audience.

"What convinced the Indians of my divinity, I think, was my size. The folk of Supara are rather small. But Shunga, being from the Land of Five Rivers, and my half brother were both over six feet, and I overtopped diem both.

"We went on dancing, never hurrying a step, through the audience hall and the outer chambers and out into the night. Now and then we passed a priest or a layman lying on his face and praying with all his might.

"Outside the entrance lay the king's riding elephant, draped and painted like King Xerxes on New Year's Day. Around it the mahouts and the grooms who held the horses and the rest of the royal crowd lay also prone.

"Shunga looked from the elephant to me and jerked his head. I climbed into the hawdah, followed by Moccus, whilst Shunga bestrode the animal's neck. He kicked the elephant under the ear, so that it got to its feet and shambled off into the night. But we had gone but half a league when Shunga stopped the elephant.

" 'Here we- take to our own feet again,' said he. 'The king and the priest may begin to have doubts about the divine visitation and start hunting for us, and we could hardly be more conspicuous.'

"So we left the beast pulling branches off trees and stuffing the foliage into its maw. We left the cloth-of-gold shawl and the sacred python in the hawdah and set out afoot for Supara. Shunga said: 'Try not to step on a serpent, for many perish thus.' This was comforting advice to a barefoot man trudging a dusty road on a pitch-black night.

"We stopped at a stream to wash the blue dye off me, then scaled the city wall and regained our quarters without detection. Though glad to have saved our hides, we were disgruntled at not having brought one single jewel out of the temple. Worse, Moccus and I had lost our jackets and boots.

"Next clay the market place buzzed with the news of this wondrous theophany. Whilst we were looking for a melon to steal, the high priest himself came strolling through, acclaimed by all and beaming like a tiger that has just swallowed a tax gatherer.

"Shunga pushed through the crowd, placed his palms together and bowed over them, and spoke to the priest.

I could not understand him, for he spoke in an ancient dialect called Sanskrit. In any case, the twain stepped aside and conversed in low voices. I saw the priest look in my direction and pass something to Shunga.

"Back at our lodgings, Shunga brought out a bag of golden rings and slugs, and square silver coins enough to see us all to our homes and have something left over. When we asked him how he had done it, he said with a chuckle:

" 'I told the holy father that I had a heinous sin to confess. Having obtained his ear, I told him the tale of our raid. He was greatly shocked by the sacrilege and spoke of having us seized and trampled by elephants. Then I reminded him that the temple had done very nicely from the manifestation of the god and doubtless would do even better in the future. But, if our little fraud were exposed, all this would cease.

" 'He saw the point at once and assured me that, as nought had been stolen, the gods could take care of themselves. In my case, they would probably do no more than degrade me to the untouchable class for a thousand incarnations.

" 'No doubt, I said. But meanwhile it were well, so as not to shake the faith of the masses in the true religion, to get my companions and me away from Supara forthwith. Otherwise we might be recognized, or my hard-drinking comrades might boast of their feat in their cups. And, although we were willing to go home quietly, we could not do so in our present penury. Well, this priest can tell a tiger from a toadstool, so here we are.'"

On the eleventh stop after leaving Soba, they found a backwater of the Astasobas with a sandy bottom. Careful inspection and poking with spears having shown that no crocodiles lurked therein, they bathed.

After the sun had set, Myron and Bessas patrolled the margins of the backwater while the two young women washed themselves. Glancing towards the pair of lithe female bodies splashing about at the far end of the pool, pale in the light of the rising moon, Bessas said: "I wonder—Myron!"

"Eh? What's that? Your pardon, O Bessas. My mind was on these strange stars we see and their bearing upon the question of the shape of the earth."

"Have the gods vouchsafed you the answer to this problem yet?"

"No, curse it. Sometimes I feel I almost have the solution, but then it always eludes my grasp. How goes your suit?"

"What suit?"

"Any ninny can see that you're infatuated with Salimat bint-Zayd."

Bessas heaved a gusty sigh. "It is as plain as all that? I had thought it a secret betwixt my soul and me."

"Is the fullness of yonder moon patent to the casual eye?"

"Ah, me! For days I have striven to work up my courage to speak to the shaykh of a possible alliance. But at this prospect I, who have waded through rivers of gore, do quail like a slave girl under the lash. Will you do it for me, old friend? Will you serve as go-between?"

"Certainly," said Myron.

The girls completed their baths, and all returned to the camp. Myron ate, squatting with the rest. Shimri, across the fire from him, looked up with popping eyes. For an instant the Judaean, his mouth too full for speech, could only point and gurgle. Myron looked around and scrambled up.

A dark shape, rising to an incredible height, towered over Myron's head. The eyes alone, showing their whites in the firelight, seemed to be at twice the height of a man. Myron had to lean back a little to see to the top of the thing. From each side of the central mass spread a pair of objects that looked at first like bat's wings, save that they were a hundred times the size of those of a proper bat.

As Myron's eyes adapted themselves to looking away from the fire, he saw that from the central mass sprang another feature. This was like an enormous blind snake, which reared and weaved this way and that, as if questing for a victim. The mass seemed to be perched on the trunks of a pair of great gray trees, which had not been there when Myron sat down.

The women screamed; an Arab shouted: "Fîl!". Somebody threw a stick of firewood, whirling so that its burning end etched a looping curve of ruddy light in the darkness.

Below the questing serpent, a great red mouth fell open. A high-pitched bellow, between a scream and a roar, like the blast of a bronzen trumpet befouled with spittle, came from the cavernous opening. As the monster turned, the moonlight flashed on a pair of long white tusks.

Then the elephant was gone with a crashing of vegetation, leaving a frantic jabber of voices behind it. Myron looked for his leader. Bessas had leaped for his Parthian bow and now stood with arrow nocked.

"Praise Mithra, at least we were not stamped flat!" said the Bactrian. " 'Twas bigger, than any elephants they have in Hind."

"D-did you see the horns on it?" cried Shimri.

Myron reproved the young man: "Those were not horns; they were tusks."

Bessas snorted. "Some day our beloved Myron will be trampled by one of these great African monsters. And when somebody runs for help, crying: 'A hippopotamus is killing Myron!' he will look up, and his dying words will be: 'You err, my dear fellow. This is not a hippopotamus; it is a rhinoceros!'" He glared around the camp. "Where in the seven Babylonian hells is Skhâ? He was supposed to patrol."

They found the Karian asleep against a tree trunk. Despite his howls that the crocodiles would devour him, they threw him into the Astasobas.

The next day, Myron took the shaykh aside and broached Bessas' proposal. Zayd thoughtfully pulled his beard.

"The Banu Khalaf is flattered that so great a lord and hero should ask for one of our daughters," said the shaykh. "Natheless, I must tell you that it may not be."

"She is surely old enough," said Myron.

"True, but that is not the issue. She should have been wed to some good clansman years ago, but she has overblown thoughts as to what sort of man she wishes. I fear that even becoming wife to Xerxes would scarcely satisfy her; and, being less strong in my dealings with her than a proper Arab father, I have not compelled her. Besides, she has threatened to stab in his sleep any man to whom I gave her against her will."

"She seems to like Bessas well enough."

"True, Master Myron, but that is not the point."

"What is the point, then?" said Myron with a touch of impatience, for the aged Arab showed a tendency to ramble.

"Craving your pardon, we are most particular about the purity of our blood. Lord Bessas is not an Arab, let alone a Khalafi. So pray tell him thanks, and thanks again, but let him seek a wife elsewhere than in the tents of the Banu Khalaf." The old man sighed. "Betimes I wish he were a Khalafi. I shall not live forever. I have no living sons; my brother Naamil, though well-loved in the clan, is too mild and indolent. Moreover he, too, has daughters only. No other man in the clan has the strength and wisdom required to ward us from disaster in this wicked world."

"Your daughter seems to be a better man than most men."

"All, true. But stones will sprout leaves or ever the badawin submit to being ruled by a woman. And that is why I should like some magician to turn Captain Bessas into an authentic Arab, complete with pedigree." When Myron reported back to Bessas, his news cast the other into the deepest gloom. "Of what avail my noble achievements, if there be no sweet woman to share them with?" said the Bactrian, wiping away a tear.

Myron suggested: "If you want a wife so badly, you could have Phyllis. She is desperately eager to find a husband, and she gazes upon you with that same gods-but-he's-wonderful look that you bend upon Salimat."

"Phyllis is a good lass and I like her. For a second wife she would suit me well—that is, if you did not wish to keep her for yourself. But for the first, I will have Salimat bint-Zayd and no other. I burn for her like an iron founder's furnace." He sighed. "It never occurred to me that the lesser races might hold the same interdicts regarding purity of blood as we Aryans do."

"Live and learn. I trust you'll keep your passions well reined in. For, if a man lay lustful hands on Salimat, Zayd and his lads would think themselves in honor bound to have the fellow's heart. Not to mention that she's quick as a snake with a dagger herself."

"Fear not. In my younger days as a soldier on the frontier, I committed a few rapes with the rest, at the taking of towns. But when I saw the dole I thus made, I swore never again to take a woman against her will. This is between you and me, of course; for some might deem such self-denying resolutions unmanly." Bessas managed a wan smile. "So Zayd thinks I should make a good shaykh, eh, but for the detail that I'm no Arab? One could fare farther and do worse. Betimes I weary of forever flitting about the world like a bat in a banquet hall, without home or ties."

On the twenty-fifth of Abu, a weary column reached the point on the east bank of the river opposite Tenupsis, the capital of the southern Nubae. A large village with huts of wattle and thatch swam into view across the flume. A low stockade surrounded it, and a pair of skulls grinned from lofty poles at the sides of the gate.

Gazing at Bessas' party, Myron thought they looked travel-worn and exhausted after nearly a month of marching. Their clothes were faded from the sun and stained from the rain, which became ever heavier and more frequent as they proceeded south. He himself felt that he would be in the Elysian fields, could he but lie down and do nothing for a fortnight. And if he could do his loafing in a good library, reading for hours every day, he would be on Olympos itself.

The march had borne heavily on men and beasts. One camel and one more horse had died. One Arab was sick with a persistent cough. Large biting flies buzzed menacingly about the caravan.

A grinning, naked Nuba scrambled up the river bank and spoke in broken Kushite to Merqetek, who translated to Kothar, who translated to Bessas. "He says he will ferry us across for one string of beads a passenger."

Bessas looked towards a distant cluster of conical huts, rising from the grassy plain on the eastern side of the river, where grazed a huge herd of cattle. "Myron, you and Merqetek go across to buy food ere we starve. I must needs think on how to set up a defensible camp. Or do you need Kothar as well to make yourself understood?"

"No," said Myron. "I now know enough Egyptian and Kushite to converse with Merqetek. Don't you find it curious that in Egypt the official language is Syrian, in Kush the official language is Egyptian, and here, where they speak the gods know what tongues, the language of trade is Kushite?"

"Get me a proper store of victuals, and one day I'll talk about the theory of languages all you like. But go."

Myron gathered a bag of trade goods and scrambled down the river bank. His heart sank when he saw the boat. It consisted of two large bundles of dried reeds lashed together. Each bundle was about the size and shape of the tusk of a big bull elephant.

The boatman launched the craft with the pointed ends of the bundles forward and settled himself astride the bow, with his legs hanging down into the water. He indicated that Myron and Merqetek should sit directly behind him, with their legs, also, in the water.

Myron pointed at the water, saying: "Seka? Do you not fear crocodiles?"

Merqetek listened to the boatman and laughed. "He says, when the crocodile will take us, it will take us, and there is nought we can do."

Myron climbed into his place. The boatman leaned forward and propelled the boat by paddling vigorously with his hands.

Around the landing on the far side a pack of young Nubae splashed and swam. Instead of swimming like all the other folk that Myron had seen, thrusting both arms forward and bringing them back to the sides at the same time, while kicking like a frog, these boys raised each arm in turn, stretched it forward out of water, and brought it down and back. Although the stroke looked fatiguing, it sent the youths shooting through the water at an amazing speed. Myron resolved to try this stroke, for in these crocodile-infested waters such a sprinter's pace might save one's life.

Two hours later, Myron returned with his purchases. It took two trips to ferry them across. His usually even temper was roiled by his getting caught in a sudden shower. He set down before Bessas a trussed young pig, squirming and grunting, and a round dark-brown object.

"This," he said, "is all I could find for sale in Tenupsis. I spoke to the Nubian king, and he said to return on market day, five days hence, to obtain a better choice."

"The pig I recognize, but what is this?" said Bessas, touching the brown thing with the toe of his boot.

"Cheese."

"I have never seen cheese of such a color."

"It's packed in cow dung to preserve it. It is also prepared with cow's urine."

"Ugh!" said Bessas. "By Mithra's mace, we had better not tell the others, lest their appetites be ruined. And what is in those bags which Merqetek is fetching?"

"One contains dried grasshoppers. The other is a kind of millet. You eat it as a porridge. I have tried it. It's repulsive, but it is the only corn grown hereabouts. One thing more: the king urged that you stockade your camp." He pointed towards the distant cluster of huts. "The Anderae, who occupy this bank of the river, will give you endless trouble otherwise. Oh, oh! Here they come."

Bessas blew a blast on his whistle. "Stand to arms!" he bellowed, unwrapping his bow case, which had been swaddled to protect it from the damp.

Twenty-odd Anderae advanced from the distant village, followed by a few of their women, Each bore a cowhide shield and either a club or a wooden spear with a head of antelope's horn. Like most of the folk along the Astasobas, all were completely naked, save that the older women wore about their hips a single ornamental string of beads. The tribal marking of the men consisted of several parallel horizontal scars across the forehead.

As the Anderae neared, Myron saw that they were tremendously tall, like some of the captives who had been paraded by General Puerma's army. Every person in the group towered over Myron, and most of the men were at least Bessas' height. Though well-muscled, they were rather slender for their height. Each had the two lower center front teeth missing, and the bodies of most were covered with the ash of burnt cow dung. Otherwise, Myron could not but admit that they were splendid-looking people.

These tall blacks marched straight up to the camp, ignoring the weapons raised against them. The tallest man stepped forward, casually trailing his shield and spear. He spoke in a harsh, staccato tongue, and Merqetek said:

"He says, give him a gift."

"Fiends! Who is he?" said Bessas.

"His name is Gwek."

"Is he the chief?"

The Andera laughed scornfully. "He says the Anderae have no chiefs. A real man, he says, takes care of himself and obeys no one. When will you give him his present?"

"By the warts on Ahriman's nose, why should I give him aught? What will he give me?"

"He says the Anderae do not barter. They take what they want."

"Well, if he thinks he can take anything of mine—ha, Shimri, watch out!"

The Judaean dove at a pile of luggage, in which another Andera had begun to rummage while the party's attention was elsewhere. The black leaped back, clutching a handful of strings of trade beads, and fled laughing.

"Come back, Shimri!" shouted Bessas. The Judaean, sword in hand, had started across the plain in pursuit of the thief. Bessas continued:

"Skhâ! Labid! Amr! Drag all the baggage together in one pile, sit on it, and kill the next of these knaves who touches it!"

Gwek repeated his demand for gifts, more and more loudly. The other Anderae joined in, bellowing, holding out eager hands, and edging closer. The women added their screams to the tumult.

Bessas roared: "If they want to fight, we'll give them a bellyful! Tell them to stand back, or we shall begin!"

Instead of complying, the Anderae closed in around the travelers, covetously clutching at their possessions and shouting and laughing more uproariously than before. Bessas put his whistle to his lips and nocked an arrow.

Then Kothar, holding a lighted lamp, paraded forward and blew a blast of flame from his mouth. The Anderae scrambled back with wild yells. The noise died down. Bessas pushed his men into a fighting formation.

The Anderae trailed back towards their village, shouting back over their shoulders. Merqetek translated:

"They say you will be sorry that you were so stingy with them!"

Bessas said: "The Nubian chief is right. By nightfall I want our camp surrounded by seven-foot stakes. There are enough saplings along the river to furnish them. Jump to it!"

An hour later, weary from driving stakes into the rain-softened soil, Shimri said: "Wh-why do we not attack these savages tonight and teach them a lesson?"

Myron replied: "For the same reason that a wise mouse bites not a lion's nose. Thousands of these barbarians dwell within a few leagues of here, scattered about the plain. Do you see that village in the distance? And that one? Merqetek informs us that they have no government and live in universal discord, with each village raiding and fighting the next. But let an outsider attack one, and all assemble like a swarm of hornets to repel the invader."

That night, as Merqetek had taught them, they kindled several fires within the stockade and piled grass on them to make smoke. These smudge fires kept the swarming myriads of mosquitoes from driving men and beasts mad, although the dense blue smoke was scarcely less of a torment. All night the sound of the company's coughing mingled with the susurration of insects and the roars, howls, snarls, snorts, and trumpetings of the beasts that roamed the Astasobian plain.

Next morning the camp was surrounded by a five-foot fence, strengthened by withes interwoven among the palings. Then Bessas set his men to whittling sharp points on the tops of the stakes. The palisade was no defense against a serious assault, but it afforded cover for archers and enabled those within to control the flow of visitors.

And visitors soon arrived. Delegations came from many villages, until there wore hundreds of ebon giants swarming around the Stockade and shouting demands for gifts. Their clamor filled the air; their pungent odor wafted through the encampment. Their threatening presence kept the expedition on edge, day and night.

When one was admitted, he would insult and berate the travelers as niggards, pounce upon some piece of portable property, and run for the gate. One of them escaped with an Arab's kaffiyya before those within learned to trip and pin their visitors at the first sign of larceny. After a few Anderae had been whipped out of the camp, attempts at theft fell off.

But the bloodless siege continued. Glowering over his stockade, Bessas said to Myron the next day:

"By the demons of Mazana, these churls give our folk no rest! I meant to stop here for them to gather strength for the next march, but they look wearier than ever. Look at that son of a toad! He has been at it for hours."

He pointed to a muscular Andera, who stood twenty paces away, shouting demands. Nearby, Salimat said softly:

"Good Captain Bessas, if you let that mighty mendicant in, methinks I can use him."

The man was Nyakong, from one of the more distant villages. After Salimat had spoken with him through Merqetek for an hour, he departed, scowling and muttering. Bessas asked:

"What said you to that lout, my lady?"

Salimat smiled enigmatically. "We spoke of the leading men of the villages of the Anderae: which would do us good and which ill."

Late the same day, Gwek returned, shouting angrily. At Salimat's request, he was admitted. Soon he, too, departed, frowning and growling.

The following day, small parties of the Anderae were seen from the camp, hurrying hither and thither across the savanna. Fighting broke out among them. Smoke rose from burning villages. Men, tiny in the distance, were seen pursuing and slaying other men. But the Anderae let the encampment alone. Bessas sought out Salimat and said:

"By the flames of Atar, lass, you've worked a magic as strong as Kothar's! Tell me what you did."

"It was simple. First I told Nyakong that we could give him no gifts, because gifts were only for the brave, and Gwek had told us that Nyakong was the greatest coward of his village, whose men were the worst cravens among the Anderae.

"Then Gwek came, demanding to know what we had said to Nyakong to cause him to shout taunts at Gwek. And I told a similar tale, but with the roles reversed. So now another feud has burst amongst the villages, half siding with Gwek and half with Nyakong. By the time they come to their senses, I trust that we shall be far away."

Bessas looked sharply at the shaykh's daughter. "My dear Salimat," he said, "you belong, not in the clean, simple desert, but at the Achaemenid Court, where the threads of intrigue spread as thickly as cobwebs in a haunted house!"