So close were the cutthroats that I could see the gleam of their teeth and eyeballs in the rising sun. I poised the spear to spit the first who should try to jump the gap. Manethôs muttered prayers and exorcisms.
"Berosos!" I cried. "Stop dithering and get your sword out. Cut off any hands that grasp our gunwale."
"I will t-t-try," said Berosos.
A heave of her oars brought the pursuing craft almost within arm's length of our stern. As a man started to reach out, I jabbed and got home. The man snatched back his bleeding arm; another struck at the spear shaft with a sword, nicking but not severing it. Their leader kept shouting a command, but nobody seemed eager to be the first to impale himself.
A man in the bow rose up and threw his knife. Amenardis screamed. I dodged but felt a blow on the side of my head and the sting of a cut on my right ear. There was a thump, and I glanced behind me to see Manethôs tumble on his back with his paper shoes in the air. He had been rapped on the crown by the knife handle.
The priest bounded up, prayer and exorcism forgotten, and shouted furiously to Horos. The latter threw down his paddle. The two squeezed forward between the rowers to where the mast lay. They picked it up and pushed their way aft.
"Get out of the way!" cried Manethôs .
Berosos and I ducked. The priest and the boatman grasped the mast near the butt end, one from each side, so that its thin end projected out over the water. Manethôs counted:
"Oua! Sen! Chemet!"
They swung. The ten-cubit pole hurtled round in a horizontal arc. Most of those clustered in the bow of the barge ducked as they saw it coming, but it struck one man. Splash!
Gabble and curses burst from the thieves. The barge slowed down and fell behind. Someone in the rear of the barge caught the hand of the man in the water and hauled him back aboard.
The quick stroke began again. This time the barge pulled up abreast of us to port, as if to ram us in the waist or to board us from the side.
"Pull!" I cried. "We're nearly there!"
Up forward, Amenardis stood by to strike with Onas' sword. Horos and Manethôs thrust the mast out to fend off the barge.
The barge angled in towards us; our oars fouled theirs with a clatter. Thieves mustered in bow and stern. The chief shouted a command. Some thieves gathered themselves to leap while others snatched at the mast, trying to seize it and wrest it from us.
Then there was a slight shock. I felt the drag of our bottom on ground, and the slowing of the Hathor staggered me. After two heartbeats we were free again and rowing into the Mendesic branch.
The barge, however, grounded firmly on the sandbar, with a grunt of strained timbers and a swirl of muddy water. Three thieves in the bow were pitched off into the river, while those erect in the stern were hurled into the laps of the rearmost rowers.
Our four rowers, with sweat streaming down their faces, gave a few more strokes and then dropped their oars, letting their heads fall forward on their knees.
Screams of rage came from the barge. Fists were shaken, and one man tried a long-range knife throw. The blade whirled across the water but fell short with a small splash. A Greek-speaking thief yelled:
"Dirty, greasy Greeks! Run away, you lying, boy-loving cowards!"
Dikaiarchos raised his head, mopping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, which was plastered to his torso by sweat. "My poor old heart! I never realized how wide that polluted river is."
A bend in the smaller branch of the Nile carried us out of sight of the barge. When I last saw the thieves, most had gone over the side and were wading around knee-deep, trying to push their boat off with random efforts and many cries.
Onas conferred with Horos, then said: "It will not be long ere they are again on our trail. Horos urges that we take to the canals, for they will surely catch us if we continue down this branch."
I said: "Ask him whether we can work our way back to the Phatnitic branch through the canals."
"He says he knows a way," said Onas.
"Let's take it. We should be able to lose them in the canals."
Horos cheered up at not having to face the hippopotamus-haunted swamps of Lake Tanis. An hour's row brought us to the opening of a large canal on our left.
Then we rowed through the countryside of the Delta. Naked peasants on the banks halted their labors to give us those stony stares wherewith peasants the world over confront outsiders. After a few turns and forks we were wholly in Horos' hands.
All day we wandered among the canals. At times the banks came so near on either hand that we had to unship the oars and use them as poles and paddles. Once we had to retrace our path for several furlongs because we had come to a bridge too low for the Hathor's little cabin to clear. Moreover, as the canal was too narrow to turn the Hathor, we had to back the whole way.
At last, when the westerly palms showed black against the ruddy disk of the setting sun, we came again upon the broad Phatnitic branch of the Nile. As the scarlet sphere vanished, I breathed a silent thanksgiving to Helios-Apollon.
The next dawn saw us pulling up to the waterfront at Tamiathis. There lay a big merchantman whose squat form I recognized as that of the Anath of Sapher of Sidon. There stood Sapher himself, long black beard and all, ordering the loading of cargo into his ship.
"I'm happy to see that fortune favors you, Captain Sapher," I said.
"Fortune is right, young fellow!" said the Phoenician. "The accursed brigands had not burnt my ship after all. And why? Because they wished to take out my load of timber first, for their own use. But these great beams of cedar took much pulling and hauling to get up through the hatch and over the side, so that when Tauros' triremes reached the spot, the knaves had not unloaded more than the half.
"Now, my agreement with Tauros was that he should pull me off in return for my cargo of lumber, and only half the shipment was left for the use of his station. However, being a good fellow, he agreed to pull me for what there was, and this proved not difficult once the remaining load was taken out."
"How soon will you sail?"
"I can go almost any time. I did but delay a little to attend Dikaiarchos' return."
"I think I have two more passengers for you." I introduced Amenardis and Manethôs .
"I am delighted," said Sapher. "For, despite the rescue of my ship, this voyage is like to lose me money."
News of our arrival brought Captain Python on a run. His first words were: "Did you get it?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
Python took my arm, walked me aside from the others, and spoke in a low voice. "Good, good! I will see that you and the other two are rewarded. But one thing: Say nothing about this expedition, nothing about the fact that the polluted robe was ever stolen at all."
"Herakles! Why not? I thought I could boast of this feat all my life."
"Well, don't. It makes me look foolish for letting the thing be stolen in the first place."
"How about the crew? They'll surely talk."
"I have sworn them to secrecy. I daresay the tale will leak out someday, but I mean to keep it dark at least until we have left Egypt. So curb that saucy tongue, young Chares, or it will go hard with you."
At first I was indignant that Python should obscure my small glory to avoid any risk to his own. Further thought, however, reminded me that if tongues started wagging freely, my dealings with Azarias might also come to light. Perhaps one should let well enough alone.
"Fetch the robe aboard the Halia," he concluded.
We rowed out and climbed the ladder to the deck of the trireme, which lay in the river. When I bore my burden to the captain's cabin, Python unfolded the garment and scrutinized it.