“Of course I do, Artemon.”
He nodded. “That was the last of the wine. I must get back to work. Sleep well, Pecunius.”
I left him in his hut, poring over his scrolls and maps.
XXXI
The next morning dawned bright and clear, with a dazzling yellow sun in a pale blue sky. The men ate a final meal in the clearing, then Artemon gave the order to set fire to the huts.
Menkhep lit torches and passed them out to the men. At first they went about their work slowly, almost reluctantly. But as one structure after another was lit, the act of incineration took on a festive air, and soon the men were running about in a frenzy of destruction. Even Djet was allowed to wield a torch. When he set fire to our hut, I watched the flames dance in his wide-open eyes.
The huts became bonfires, at first burning brightly and bristling with flames, then collapsing on themselves and belching great clouds of smoke. Black pillars rose into the air, then spread and mingled, until the whole sky was filled with smoke. No patch of blue or golden sunbeam pierced the murk. The sky became a vast, mottled bruise of dark purple and brown, amid which the sun was a smeared crimson bloodstain.
When there was nothing left to burn, the men assembled along the shore. Coughing and rubbing their watering eyes, they took their places in the treasure-laden boats. Curtains of mingled mist and smoke hovered on the lagoon, obscuring the boats from one another. Beyond the distance of a stone’s throw, all was veiled by a sullen haze.
From where I sat in Menkhep’s boat, still tied to the shore, I dimly perceived the tall figure of Artemon striding down the pier toward the boat that would lead us. He was followed by a hooded form I took to be Ismene. After the witch came a veiled figure so completely covered from head to foot that I would never have taken it for a woman had I not known that it must be Bethesda. I longed to call out, if only to see her head turn in my direction, but I bit my tongue.
I heard a lion’s roar. Sitting beside me, Djet stiffened and clutched my arm; he had never been entirely convinced of the lion’s tameness. Cheelba trotted down the pier. The lion’s disguise had all but vanished; the dyes had faded and his mane was restored to its natural glory. As the lion passed her, Bethesda appeared to startle back in alarm. Metrodora turned toward her, as if to give reassurance. Cheelba reached Artemon, who held out his hand and allowed the beast to lick it.
For a brief moment, poised to step into their boat, Artemon and the others became motionless; even the lion’s tail was still. The mist turned them into figures from a shadow play. Then a curtain of smoke rolled across the pier and engulfed them, hiding them completely. By the time the smoke cleared, Artemon and the rest had vanished, along with the boat.
One by one, the other boats followed. As we cast off from the shore and headed out, I turned back to look at what remained of the Cuckoo’s Nest. The huts had collapsed into smoldering heaps, but the fire had spread to the surrounding vegetation. Many of the slender trees were crowned with flame, and in patches here and there the low brush was aflame as well. The spreading conflagration gave birth to a wind that spewed cinders and ashes and whipped the trees.
With no one to stop it, the fire would spread unchecked. By nightfall, the whole island would be consumed, a vast smoldering heap of ash amid the waters of the Delta. The men of the Cuckoo’s Gang would leave nothing behind them.
So rapid was the spread of the fire that as our boat headed toward the mouth of the lagoon, beyond which lay open water, flames approached from both sides, as if to converge and head us off. As long as we steered a middle course, keeping as far as possible from the shore on either side, the water would protect us. The illusion that fiery jaws were closing on us was still unnerving.
Djet screamed. Thinking the fire had frightened him, I held him tight, but he wriggled free and frantically pointed at the water.
Nearby, two bulbous eyes appeared, just above the water. Beyond the eyes, a powerful, undulating tail propelled Mangobbler the crocodile quickly toward us.
Djet screamed again. So did several of the men, who raised their oars and in a frenzy struck the water, trying to fend off the creature. Mangobbler only quickened his pace, so that a collision of boat and crocodile became inevitable. The creature’s eyes glittered with firelight.
Mangobbler reached the boat and tried to scramble aboard.
Terrified, some of the men drew back. Others awkwardly swung their oars, desperately trying to hit the crocodile. Instead, oar struck oar, and Mangobbler was unscathed. With the beast determined to board us, and the men frantically jostling each other, the heavy-laden boat swayed so violently from side to side that I was sure we would capsize.
At that moment, with all in chaos, we passed through the gates of fire. All around us spread the choppy, brightly flickering water, as if we floated on a sea of flames.
Suddenly Mangobbler lost his footing. With his short legs flailing and his jaws snapping, he tumbled back into the water. The boat rocked violently in the opposite direction. We came within a hairsbreadth of tipping over.
“Down, down!” Menkhep shouted. The men hunkered low. I clutched Djet and held my breath. The boat steadied.
Some distance away, against a backdrop of red water, swirling mist, and sheets of flame, I saw the powerful tail of Mangobbler thrash the water as the crocodile retreated.
The men in the boat behind us, braking with their oars but unable to come to a full stop, struck us with a jolt. Djet let out a scream. Even Menkhep whinnied like a horse.
The men in the other boat, who had witnessed everything before giving us a final scare, roared with laughter as they dipped their oars and passed us. Was there no fright so terrible that it did not amuse these men, as long as it happened to someone else?
An hour later, we found ourselves again in a world of blue sky and golden sunshine. The smoke of the Cuckoo’s Nest lay behind us, heaped like a thundercloud on the southern horizon. The smell of smoke clung to us like a perfume.
The men were more talkative than usual, sharing stories of the past and dreams of the future. They remembered lost homes and abandoned wives. They complained of indignities inflicted by greedy moneylenders, bullying soldiers, merciless tax collectors, and harsh overseers.
Their dreams of the future were simple. In some distant future, after having their fill of whores and drink and gambling, most of the men imagined for themselves not a life of luxury in a palace, pampered by slaves, but only a bit of peace and quiet in a simple house back in the city or village they had come from. A chance to grow old was itself a fantasy for these men, who were still alive against all odds.
As the hot sun beat down on us, my mind wandered. I studied the monotonous, watery expanse of the Delta. I thought about my father back in Rome. I wondered what had become of my old tutor, Antipater. But when the talk turned to “the girl,” my ears pricked up.
“Her name is Axiothea,” said Menkhep.
“How do you know?” said one of the men. His name was Ujeb. He had a reputation for timidity-he had shown complete panic when the crocodile appeared-but he was the type who could talk himself out of any corner.
“I know quite a bit about the young lady,” said Menkhep, proud to show off his privileged knowledge as one of Artemon’s more trusted men. “She comes from Alexandria, and she’s an actress.”
“No!” said Ujeb. “I heard she was a princess.”
“No, just an actress.”
“An actress, held for ransom?” Ujeb scoffed. “You can find that sort of woman on any street corner in Alexandria!”
“She’s the favorite of a very rich merchant.”