After that, the first thing we did ashore was to buy a new headcloth for me. My head is shaved, I suppose to prevent vermin, and Thotmaktef said people would assume that I was another priest if I did not cover it. My head is large, but a seller of such cloths had his wife sew one to my measure. She was quick, and the cloth is strong cotton with blue stripes. It keeps the sun from my head and shelters my shoulders too. I like it very much and paid for a second for Uraeus, whose bald head might easily be mistaken for a shaved one.
Thotmaktef and I talked of our errand. He pointed out that we would require more water than wine. A single jar of wine would be sufficient, but we should have five of water. We rented a donkey with panniers to carry our jars and bought five large jars for water cheaply and without difficulty. The woman who sold them told us there was a foreign shop not a hundred steps from her stall that sold the best wine in all Kemet, fine vintages straight from Hellas.
We went in and introduced ourselves to the merchant, whose name is Agathocles. "We spoke yesterday," he told me. "You were with a pretty young lady, remember? I told you why we call this polis Thebes of the Thousand Gates. You told me you had only just come to Wast and were traveling south."
I did not remember, but I recalled reading of the encounter in my scroll and said I did.
"I've seen you before that, too." He drummed his chest with his fingers, which seems to be a habit of his when perplexed. "That was why I went up to you and spoke. I wish I could remember where."
"So do I," I said. "My name is Latro. Does that help?"
His eyes opened a trifle wider at my name; but he said, "No…No, it doesn't. There was a Latros at the games one year. So I've heard. I wasn't there, though I would have liked to go. He won the pankration, they said. He was a terrifying fighter."
"Latro is in charge of our troops," Thotmaktef explained. "I know he's a fine wrestler, but he's certainly not a bully."
"Troops?"
"It was thought we might need some fighting men in Wawat."
"I'd say you have at least one good one." Agathocles drummed his chest once more. "Back home… I'd almost swear… This Latros, the pankrationist, was a freedman of Pausanias's. This isn't the same man?"
Thotmaktef shook his head. "Latro's a soldier of Sidon. You probably know much more about those Crimson ports than I do, but as I understand it, it's a vassal city of the Great King's." (All this was new to me, but I have no doubt it is the truth. I have asked Thotmaktef where he learned so much about me, and he says Muslak told him.)
"That's not you?" Agathocles asked me.
I said it was not, unless the Pausanias he had mentioned was king of Sidon.
"He's a prince of Rope." Agathocles looked at me oddly. "Very famous."
I shrugged, and my slave Uraeus stepped in to explain that we had come to buy wine, and that it must be the best. All this was said in the tongue most men use here.
"That's correct," Thotmaktef told Agathocles, "and we'll buy no jar we haven't tasted."
"Nor would I sell you such a jar," Agathocles declared, "but I must see your money before you taste my wine."
I showed him some of the silver and gold from my pouch.
He smiled and got a jar for us, beautifully painted. "This is the very best I brought back from my last voyage. Grown in Cimon's own estate, on south-facing hillsides. You don't have to believe that, but it's the simple truth and your palate will testify to it. Would you like to taste it?"
We said we would, and he produced tiny cups. It was indeed excellent, warm and fragrant, dry without being sour. We asked the price, which seemed high but not outlandish. Thotmaktef offered to pay that much and a bit more for two jars, and eventually a bargain was struck. I paid.
"We need water, too," Thotmaktef explained. "Not ordinary water, the best and purest water obtainable."
"I know the best well in Kemet," Agathocles assured us. He left his clerk in charge of his shop and took us there himself, telling us truly that we would never find Charthi's house without a guide.
It was a house of many wings and courts some distance from the city, with walled grounds three times the size of most farms. After half a dozen arguments and repeated explanations, the porter went in to speak with some upper servant, leaving the four of us (and the donkey boy) to the beggars who haunted its gate and two savage dogs whose chains let them attack anyone who came too near it.
Admitted at last, Agathocles, Thotmaktef, and I found Charthi lounging in the shade, watching his children play among fountains, flowers, and vines. Agathocles explained that we were strangers sailing south, at which a look passed between them.
"You are welcome in my house," Charthi told us, "and welcome to as much water as will load a dozen donkeys. I've the finest well anywhere, exactly as my friend Agathocles told you. But I could never forgive myself if I did not show you hospitality. You've already sailed far and walked far, and the day is warm. Wouldn't you like to taste my dates and figs, with something better than water in your cups?"
We thanked him, and he led us to a large table in another part of his garden. "You journey to Wawat, my friend tells me," he said when all had been served. "If your errand is confidential, I will take no offense. If it is not, however, I may be able to assist you. Is it something we may speak of?"
"It is not confidential," Thotmaktef told him, "though we do the satrap's bidding. He sends my master, with a ship and nine soldiers, to report upon the south."
"I have met that worthy prince," Charthi said, "and he must know our city well. He has been here several times."
"We must go much farther south," Thotmaktef explained. "Farther than your city and farther even than Wawat."
"Ah! To Yam?"
"And beyond it," Thotmaktef said.
"You are indeed venturesome men, and I well understand why my friend Agathocles brought you to me." There were no smiles now, and for a moment I thought Charthi might weep. "My eldest son, my own dear Kames, has vanished into that land. What do you know of the gold mines?"
Thotmaktef's eyes flew wide at that. Perhaps mine did as well. "Nothing," he said. "Or very little. I know the pharaohs of old had such mines. They are said to be worked out."
"So they are," Charthi whispered. "That is indeed what men say. But are they? Who has seen them?"
"Not I," said Agathocles.
"Nor I. The Hellenes, the men of our friend's country, have advanced the art of mining far beyond anything our forefathers knew. Agathocles, you have silver?"
"Not I, but my city. Athens possesses rich silver mines. There is no land in all the world that does not know and honor the silver owl."
Charthi addressed me. "You are a Hellene yourself, are you not, Latro?"
I shrugged; but when Agathocles addressed me in the Hellene tongue, I answered, finding that I know it better than that of Kemet.
"In my judgment he is not," Agathocles told Charthi. "He is surely no Rope Maker, for he has not the broad alpha of the Silent Country. He speaks more or less like a man of my own city, but I do not believe he was born there."
"Neither do we," Thotmaktef said. "He is a mercenary in the Sidonian service, as I told you. The king of Sidon serves the Great King, thus no Hellene would serve Sidon."
Agathocles smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Don't be too sure of that, Holy Thotmaktef. The Great King will conquer Hellas just as he conquered Kemet. If a mighty empire could not stand against him, do you imagine our quarreling cities can?"