thoughts ran on as I breathed deeply of the evening air and looked about me. I will work and I will have them.
What I saw drove all irritation from my mind. The barge rested lightly just within the tip of a wide bay fringed with acacia and sycamore trees. A little way off, the beach was cheerful with the twinkle of fires and chatter of the servants beside their own craft. I supposed that the oarsemen had joined them, for the oars of Hui’s barge had been shipped and now hung high above the waterline. Beyond both boats, strung out along the bay, bathed in the afterglow of a red sunset, lay the largest town I had ever seen. Watersteps led to hidden gardens whose trees leaned over mud walls. Light craft of all descriptions rocked at their moorings. Here and there a road appeared, diving into a palm grove and reappearing only to run past a collection of huts and disappear once more. Behind the houses, the huts and the trees I could just make out the beige pylons and lofty pillars of several temples. Somewhere here, I knew, enshrined in a Holiest of Holiest, was the sacred mound which had arisen first from the primeval floodwaters of Nun, the original Chaos, the place where Thoth, god of wisdom and writing and every scribe’s patron, had begat himself and risen upon a lotus flower. I thought of my favourite scribe, my own dear Pa-ari, at that moment, and wished fervently that he could see the home of his god.
Turning, I walked along the bank away from the town and the barges. Here there were donkey paths winding through the parched undergrowth and I took one that brought me out to a secluded marsh. The reeds stood like the brittle spears of some absent army, but once through them the sand was firm under my feet. The sun had gone and the dusk was deepening. The water was no longer pellucid but reflected the darkening sky. Pulling my sheath over my head I waded into its calm embrace. I had no natron with which to wash myself but I did my best, scooping up sand and rubbing myself with it vigorously, running my fingers over my wet scalp. When I had finished I could no longer see the farther bank. The silence around me was absolute. Standing waist deep in the almost imperceptible tug of the current I closed my eyes. “Oh Wepwawet,” I prayed, “strong God of War, my totem. Help me to do battle with myself and with the unknown Egypt into which I sail. Give me a victory, and so bring me to my heart’s desire.” I had not even opened my eyes when a jackal began to howl, startlingly close on the other side of the river, and I shuddered. Wepwawet had heard me.
By the time I returned to the barges, full night had fallen and I was hungry. Skirting my Master’s craft where a lamp burned high in the cabin, I trudged grimly towards the crackling fires of the servants. At first I was not noticed as I stepped into the circle of light, then Kenna rose from his stool and came over to me. “I understand that you are to be attached to the Master’s household as personal servant and apprentice,” he said coldly, without preamble. “Do not think that the title of apprentice gives you licence to take on any airs. You will not last long, so remain humble. You will have less far to fall when you are sent back to your native dirt.” He looked me up and down with deliberate insolence. “The Master sometimes has these momentary foibles but he soon tires of playing the generous lord, so beware.” He pointed across the sand. “There is lentil soup, bread, onions and beer over there. You will sleep with the others on the deck of the barge. I will have a pallet and a blanket placed ready for you.” He marched back to his stool and was soon deep in conversation with a man I recognized as the captain of Hui’s barge.
If I had been older, I would have known first that Kenna was marking his territory like a desert dog who lifts his leg against a rock and second that he was desperately in love with his Master and jealous of anyone who might usurp
What I saw drove all irritation from my mind. The barge rested lightly just within the tip of a wide bay fringed with acacia and sycamore trees. A little way off, the beach was cheerful with the twinkle of fires and chatter of the servants beside their own craft. I supposed that the oarsemen had joined them, for the oars of Hui’s barge had been shipped and now hung high above the waterline. Beyond both boats, strung out along the bay, bathed in the afterglow of a red sunset, lay the largest town I had ever seen. Watersteps led to hidden gardens whose trees leaned over mud walls. Light craft of all descriptions rocked at their moorings. Here and there a road appeared, diving into a palm grove and reappearing only to run past a collection of huts and disappear once more. Behind the houses, the huts and the trees I could just make out the beige pylons and lofty pillars of several temples. Somewhere here, I knew, enshrined in a Holiest of Holiest, was the sacred mound which had arisen first from the primeval floodwaters of Nun, the original Chaos, the place where Thoth, god of wisdom and writing and every scribe’s patron, had begat himself and risen upon a lotus flower. I thought of my favourite scribe, my own dear Pa-ari, at that moment, and wished fervently that he could see the home of his god.
Turning, I walked along the bank away from the town and the barges. Here there were donkey paths winding through the parched undergrowth and I took one that brought me out to a secluded marsh. The reeds stood like the brittle spears of some absent army, but once through them the sand was firm under my feet. The sun had gone and the dusk was deepening. The water was no longer pellucid but reflected the darkening sky. Pulling my sheath over my head I waded into its calm embrace. I had no natron with which to wash myself but I did my best, scooping up sand and rubbing myself with it vigorously, running my fingers over my wet scalp. When I had finished I could no longer see the farther bank. The silence around me was absolute. Standing waist deep in the almost imperceptible tug of the current I closed my eyes. “Oh Wepwawet,” I prayed, “strong God of War, my totem. Help me to do battle with myself and with the unknown Egypt into which I sail. Give me a victory, and so bring me to my heart’s desire.” I had not even opened my eyes when a jackal began to howl, startlingly close on the other side of the river, and I shuddered. Wepwawet had heard me.
By the time I returned to the barges, full night had fallen and I was hungry. Skirting my Master’s craft where a lamp burned high in the cabin, I trudged grimly towards the crackling fires of the servants. At first I was not noticed as I stepped into the circle of light, then Kenna rose from his stool and came over to me. “I understand that you are to be attached to the Master’s household as personal servant and apprentice,” he said coldly, without preamble. “Do not think that the title of apprentice gives you licence to take on any airs. You will not last long, so remain humble. You will have less far to fall when you are sent back to your native dirt.” He looked me up and down with deliberate insolence. “The Master sometimes has these momentary foibles but he soon tires of playing the generous lord, so beware.” He pointed across the sand. “There is lentil soup, bread, onions and beer over there. You will sleep with the others on the deck of the barge. I will have a pallet and a blanket placed ready for you.” He marched back to his stool and was soon deep in conversation with a man I recognized as the captain of Hui’s barge.
If I had been older, I would have known first that Kenna was marking his territory like a desert dog who lifts his leg against a rock and second that he was desperately in love with his Master and jealous of anyone who might usurp
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