But even as I entered the world of dreams, I heard again that roar of some wild beast from the tangled woods beyond the Cuckoo’s Nest. That sound did what nothing else could do-it drove Bethesda from my thoughts, and in her place instilled a cold, paralyzing premonition of dread.
The next morning, I rose before the sun was up.
I ate a bit of stale bread and a handful of dates, then found a secluded spot by the lagoon, in sight of the huts but some distance away, and watched as the world gradually woke to the new day. The surface of the water changed from dark green to pale blue as the daylight grew stronger. Birds began to call and sing. Some of the men emerged from their huts, but many slept late, taking a well-earned rest after the expedition. Those who noticed me across the water neither called nor waved to me, and no one came to join me, not even Menkhep, who almost certainly saw me across the water but quickly vanished from sight. I began to think this must be a part of the initiation ritual, that no one should speak to me or even look me in the eye.
Eventually, it seemed that all the men must have risen, and yet, except for myself, the perimeter of the lagoon was deserted. Suddenly, from the direction of the clearing with the roasting pit, I heard the sound of many voices shouting in unison. I realized that a meeting was taking place-to which I had not been invited.
The sound of the shouting finally awakened the latest sleeper of all. Across the lagoon, I saw Djet emerge from our hut. He yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes, spotted me and made his way around the lagoon to join me. Occasional shouts still rang out from the clearing.
“What are they doing over there?” he said.
“Talking about me, I suspect.”
His eyes grew wide. “Why? Have you done something wrong?”
I managed a weak smile. “Hopefully, I’ve done something right. We’ll find out, soon enough.”
Menkhep appeared across the lagoon, at the foot of the pier. He waved to me and gestured that I should come to join the others, then turned back. His face gave no indication as to what I should expect.
I made my way to the clearing. My heart began to race, though I told myself I had nothing to fear. Djet followed me. I glanced back at him only once and then avoided looking at him, for his eyes were wide with alarm.
The clearing was more crowded than I had seen it before. Every man in the Cuckoo’s Nest had come to the assembly. Artemon stood above the crowd at one end of the clearing, standing on a dais fashioned from the sawed-off stump of a palm tree. He saw me and gestured that I should join him. Djet made his way to the front of the crowd.
Artemon’s face was grave but his voice was friendly enough. “Are you ready for the initiation?”
Since I had no idea what the initiation entailed, how could I answer such a question? I nodded.
He raised an eyebrow. “A nod is good enough for me, Pecunius, but when I ask you the same question for the benefit of the men, I suggest you show a bit more enthusiasm.” He turned to the crowd and addressed them in a loud, ringing voice. “Esteemed comrades, we have before us a newcomer. He calls himself Marcus Pecunius.”
“A Roman name!” shouted one of the men, in a tone that was not very friendly.
“Pecunius is indeed a Roman,” said Artemon. “But many of us came to the Cuckoo’s Nest from lands beyond Egypt, and even those of us who are Egyptian come mostly from regions beyond the Delta. Having a Roman among us might be a good thing. He speaks Latin, for one thing. You never know when that might come in handy. And to get here from Rome, he must have done some traveling. A man who’s seen the world could turn out to be useful.”
Men nodded their heads and murmured agreement.
“Pecunius also arrived bearing gifts for us-a not inconsiderable amount of money, and jewelry, as well. He’s already donated a generous share to our mutual fund.”
At this, many of the men applauded and cheered.
“As you can see, he exhibits no lameness or disease. Is he as fit as he looks? I ask you, Menkhep. Pecunius rowed beside you yesterday, did he not?”
Menkhep emerged from the front of the crowd. He turned to address the others. “The Roman did his share of work. He’s no slacker.”
“And he may have even more useful skills, of which we haven’t yet seen a demonstration,” said Artemon. From the sidelong look he gave me, I knew he was referring to my alleged reputation as a killer. This prompted more nods and murmurs from the crowd.
“What does the soothsayer think?” someone shouted.
“Metrodora has already given her approval,” said Artemon. Many in the crowd nodded thoughtfully. “All in all, I think Pecunius would make a worthy addition to our little band. But before we vote on the matter, let’s make sure he wants to join us. What do you say, Pecunius? Do you wish to become a member of the Cuckoo’s Gang? Do you wish to live among us and share an equal portion of whatever comes our way, whether it be good fortune or bad, plenty or poverty, life or death? Will you agree to honor the laws of the group, as determined by its members? Will you follow the orders of the man chosen to be our leader, whether that man is myself or another?”
When I hesitated, he looked at me shrewdly. “There is an alternative, of course. If you find our way of life repugnant, if you object to our laws, if you cannot obey the commands of whatever man leads us, then you needn’t throw your lot with us. Not every man was meant to be part of the Cuckoo’s Gang; we understand that. But you can’t expect us to simply set you free. You’ll be stripped of the coins and jewels you kept for yourself. You’ll be put in chains, but you won’t be harmed. If you can think of someone who might pay for your release, and if the prospect seems reasonably profitable, we’ll hold you for ransom. If not, you’ll be taken along the next time some of us venture to a town with a slave market. We’ll put you on the auction block and see what you fetch. That way, we’ll be rid of you and you’ll be rid of us.”
“And a slave!” I said.
Artemon shrugged. “It’s not much of a choice, I’ll admit. But there you have it.”
My goal was to free Bethesda, and that would never happen if I myself were a captive. Still, I was repelled by the idea of becoming a member of the Cuckoo’s Gang, especially since it appeared that a pledge of loyalty would be required from me. This was not a matter I took lightly, because a Roman’s word is his honor. Just how binding was a vow made under duress, especially to a gang of brigands?
What would my father have done? What would my old tutor, Antipater, have advised? As far as I could see, I had no choice. I stared Artemon in the eye and did my best to feign enthusiasm.
“I wasn’t born to be a slave,” I said. “Neither was any man here, I’ll wager. I choose to join you.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell me. Tell them.”
I turned to the crowd. I looked from face to face. Some looked friendly, while some looked skeptical or aloof, but not one of them appeared to wish me harm. For the first time, I realized how diverse the group was. No single color predominated amid the wide array of flesh tones, from ebony to alabaster, with every shade between. Some had the tightly curled black hair and black skin of Nubians. A few had the flame-colored hair and ivory complexion of the northern races. Somehow, they had all found their way here, and so had I.
“I want to join you…” I began, and then realized, from the blank faces before me, that I was mumbling. I thought of Bethesda, swallowed hard, and raised my voice to a shout. “I want to join you-if you’ll have me!”
“What do you say, men of the Cuckoo’s Nest?” said Artemon. “Yes or no?”
“Yes!” shouted Menkhep. “Yes! Yes!” He pumped his arms in the air and encouraged the others to join him.
“Yes!” they yelled, at first in scattered shouts. But very quickly the shouts joined together and turned into a chant. Some of the men clapped and stamped their feet. Others raised their arms in the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”