The man said something to the commander of the escort in haughty tones, the commander immediately doubled up in a low bow and transmitted the order to his soldiers. Obeying the aristocratic finger the soldiers pushed their way into the crowd of prisoners and brought out those indicated to them. Pandion was one of the first to be selected. Altogether about thirty of the strongest and bravest-looking were chosen and were immediately marched back along the same narrow road to the edge of the garden. From there the soldiers drove their captives along a low wall. The path grew steeper and led to a square of windowless walls standing in a hollow between the wheat-fields. Soldiers armed with bows walked freely up and down thick, brick-built walls some ten cubits in height. On the corners there were shelters of matting.
The entrance was in the wall facing the river and nowhere else were there either doors or windows; the blank, greenish-grey walls breathed fiery heat.
The prisoners were led through the doorway, their escort withdrew rapidly and Pandion found himself in a narrow courtyard between two walls. The second or inner wall was lower than the outer and had only one door, on its right-hand side. A number of crude benches occupied the vacant space in the courtyard although most of it was taken up by a low building with a black hole of an entrance. The group of captives was now surrounded by soldiers with lighter coloured skin than those who had escorted them on their journey. They were all tall, with lithe, well-developed bodies and many of them had blue eyes and reddish hair. Pandion had never seen such people before any more than he had seen the true inhabitants of Aigyptos and did not know that they were Libyans.
Two men came out of the building; one of them carried something made of polished wood and the other, a grey faience pot. The Libyans seized Pandion and turned him round with his back towards the newcomers. The youth felt a slight pricking sensation on his left shoulder blade, on which a polished wooden board, bristling with short needles, had been placed. The man then struck the board sharply with his hand, the blood spurted out and Pandion gave an involuntary cry of pain. The Libyan wiped away the blood and began rubbing the wound with a rag soaked in some liquid from the faience pot; the blood ceased flowing immediately but he dipped the rag in the liquid several times and continued to rub the wound. Only then did Pandion notice the bright red mark — some little figures in an oval frame (The hieroglyphs of Pharaoh’s name were written in an oval frame or cartouche.) — on the left shoulders of the Libyans that surrounded him and realized that he had been branded.
The wooden frame was removed from Pandion’s wrists and he was unable to stifle the groan caused by the pain in his stiffened joints. With the greatest difficulty he lowered his arms. Then, bending low, he entered the doorway in the inner wall and there, in a dusty courtyard, sank exhausted to the ground.
Pandion took a drink of stale water from the huge earthen jar that stood by the door and began to examine the place that was, in the opinion of those in authority, to be his home to the end of his days.
The huge square of land with a side of about two stadia was surrounded by high inaccessible walls guarded by sentries who walked up and down them. The entire right-hand half of the enclosure was occupied by tiny rammed earth cells built one against the other, the rows of them separated by long narrow gangways. There were similar tiny cells in the left-hand corner. The anterior left-hand corner was surrounded by a low wall and a strong smell of ammonia came from there. Vessels for water stood near the door. Here a long strip of ground had been plastered with clay and was swept clean: this was the place allotted for eating, as Pandion learned later.
All the free space in the square was trampled hard and smooth, not a single blade of grass relieved its dusty grey-surface. The air was heavy and stifling, it seemed as though all the fiery heat of the day was poured into that sunken square, cut off by high walls and open to the sky. This was the shehne, the slave compound, one of hundreds scattered throughout the land of Tha-Quem. Slaves of all nations were crowded in these compounds — they constituted the labour power that was the foundation of the wealth and beauty of Aigyptos. The compound was silent and deserted — the slaves were out at work, only a few sick men were left lying listlessly in the shade of the wall. This particular shehne was designed for newly arrived captives who had but recently fallen victims to the land of slavery and had not established families to increase the number of hands toiling in the Black Land.
Pandion had now become a mere, an hereditary slave of Pharaoh, and was one of the eight thousand who served in gardens, canals and buildings of the palace domains.
Other captives from amongst those who had been through the royal inspection with Pandion were distributed amongst the higher officials as sahu — slaves who on the death of their masters would be transferred to the shehne of Pharaoh.
An oppressive silence filled the stifling atmosphere, broken only by occasional sighs and groans from the new slaves driven here together with Pandion. The brand burned like red-hot coals on Pandion’s back. The youth could find no place for himself. The open sea and shady groves on the wave-washed shores of his native land were replaced by a patch of dusty earth hemmed in by high walls. Instead of a free life together with his beloved — slavery in a foreign land infinitely far from all that was near and dear to him.
It was only the hope of liberation that kept the young Hellene from smashing his head against the wall that cut him off from the wide and beautiful world.
III. THE SLAVE OF PHARAOH
as in previous years the bushes burst into flower covering the hill slopes with a flaming carpet, when spring came again to the shores of Oeniadae. The bright constellation of the Archer (The early setting of the Archer constellation was regarded as heralding the end of the winter storms.)had begun to set early, the regular west wind heralded the beginning of the seafaring season. Five ships had returned to Calydon, having left for Crete in early spring, and then two Cretan ships had arrived. But Pandion was on none of them.
Agenor was frequently lost in silent meditation but he strove to keep his feelings of alarm hidden from his family.
The lone traveller had disappeared in Crete, had been lost somewhere in the mountains of that huge island amidst big communities of people whose languages he did not know.
The old artist had decided to go to Calydon and from there, if opportunity offered, to leave for Crete in order to find out what he could of Pandion’s fate.
Thessa had lately got into the habit of wandering off alone. Even the silent sympathy of her family lay heavy on her.
In profound grief the girl stood before the calm, eternally moving sea. Sometimes she ran down to the shore in the hope that Pandion would return to the place where they had parted.
But these days of hope had long since passed. Thessa was now certain that far beyond the line that divides the sky from the sea some misfortune had occurred. Only captivity or death could have prevented Pandion from returning to her.
And Thessa implored the waves that came rolling in from afar, perhaps from that place where her beloved P and km was now — implored them to tell her what had happened. And she was sure that she had to wait but a little while and the waves would give her a sign to tell her where Pandion was. But the waves the sea cast at her feet were all alike, and their rhythmic noise told her no more than silence would have done.