Kidogo, forgetting his own wounds, sat over Pandion. The young Hellene had apparently received some internal injury and did not return to consciousness. He was breathing, however, his breath coming through his parched lips in a scarcely audible whistle. Several times Kidogo looked at his comrades lying in the shade, then jumped to his feet and called for volunteers to go to the river for water for the wounded.
Groaning involuntarily, the men rose to their feet. Immediately they felt an intolerable thirst that stung and burned their throats. If they, the survivors, were so much in need of water, what must be the sufferings of the wounded who were silent only because they had not strength enough to groan. It was no less than two hours fast walking to the river if they went in a straight line.
Suddenly the sound of voices came from beyond the bushes — a party of soldiers, about fifty of them, carrying vessels with water and food, appeared in the glade. There were no Egyptians amongst them, only Nubians and Negroes had come, led by two guides.
The soldiers stopped talking as soon as they saw the battlefield. They made their way to the tree under which Cavius was standing and, without a word, placed at his feet earthen and wooden vessels, a dozen spears, six bows with full quivers, four heavy knives and four small hippopotamus-hide shields studded with brass plates. The thirsty men threw themselves madly at the water jars. Kidogo seized one of the heavy knives and said he would kill anybody who touched the water. They began hurriedly pouring water from two of the vessels into the parched mouths of the wounded after which the others were allowed to drink. The soldiers went away without saying a single word.
Amongst the slaves there were two men skilled in the treatment of wounds and they, together with Cavius, set about bandaging their comrades’ injuries. Pandion’s broken bones were set and put in splints of hard bark and bound with strips torn from his own loin-cloth. When he removed Pandion’s loin-cloth, Kidogo saw the brightly shining stone that was hidden in the folds of the cloth. The Negro hid it carefully, believing it to be a magic amulet.
Two other wounded had to be put in splints, one of them a Libyan with a broken arm, and the other a slim, muscular Negro, who lay helpless with his leg broken below the knee. The condition of the others was apparently hopeless, since the terrible horn of the rhinoceros had gored them deeply, injuring them internally. Some of them had been crushed under the tremendous weight of the animal or under its tree-trunk legs.
Before Cavius had time enough to treat all the wounded, the dark silhouette of a man hurrying towards the scene of the battle appeared in the yellow grass. This was one of those local inhabitants who had guided the soldiers with the food arid water and had now returned of his own accord.
Breathing heavily from the exertion of his rapid journey he approached Cavius with his hands outstretched, palms upwards. The Etruscan recognized this as a sign of friendship and answered with the same gesture. The guide then squatted on his heels in the shade of the tree and, leaning on his long spear, began to talk rapidly, pointing towards the river and to the south. His listeners, however, were at a loss: the Nubian did not know more than ten words of the language of Tha-Quem while Cavius did not understand a single word of what the Nubian was saying. Amongst the slaves, however, they found interpreters.
It turned out that the guide had dropped back from the party of soldiers and had returned in order to help the slaves find their way. The Nubian told them that the liberated slaves were driven out of the districts subordinate to Tha-Quem so that it would be dangerous for them to return to the river — they might be enslaved again. The guide advised Cavius to journey to the west where they would soon come to a big, dry valley. They must travel southwards through this valley for four days until they met peaceful nomad herdsmen.
“You will give them this,” said the Nubian, taking out of a sheet, that was thrown across his shoulder, a kind of symbol made of red twigs, bent and plaited into a special shape, “then they will receive you hospitably and will give you asses to carry the wounded. Still farther to the south is the country of a rich and peaceful people, who hate Quemt. There the wounded can be healed. The farther you go to the south the more water you will find and the rains will be more frequent. You will always find water in the dry watercourse that you will follow if you dig a hole two cubits deep…”
The Nubian rose to his feet, in a hurry to go; Cavius wanted to thank him but suddenly they were approached by one of the Asian slaves with a long, tangled and dirty beard and a mass of uncombed hair on his head.
“Why do you advise us to go to the west and the south? Our home’s there.” And the Asian pointed to the east, in the direction of the river.
The Nubian stared fixedly at the speaker and then answered slowly, pausing after each word:
“If you cross the river, you will find a waterless stony desert in the east. If you cross the desert and the high mountains, you will reach the shores of the sea where Tha-Quem rules. If you are able to cross the sea, on the other side, it is said, there is a desert still more terrible. In the mountains and along the River of Perfumes there live tribes that provide slaves for Tha-Quem in exchange for weapons. Think it over for yourself!”
“Is there no road to the north?” asked one of the Libyans in wheedling tones.
“Two days journey to the north begins an endless desert: at first it is dry clay and stones and beyond them there is sand. How will you go that way and for what? It may be that there are roads and sources of water there, but I do not know them. I have told you of the easiest road, the one I know well…” Indicating with a gesture that the talk was at an end the Nubian left the shade of the tree.
Cavius followed him, placed his arm round his shoulders and began to thank him, mixing Egyptian and Etruscan words; then he called an interpreter.
“I have nothing I can give, I have nothing myself except..” the Etruscan touched his dirty loin-cloth, “… but I shall always keep you in my heart.”
“I want no payment for my help, I, too, follow the dictates of my heart,” answered the Nubian with a smile. “Who of us that have known the oppression of Tha-Quem would not help you brave men who have gained your liberty at such a terrible price?! Look here, you take my advice and keep the symbol I gave you… I’ll tell you something else: there’s a water-hole to your right, about two thousand cubits from here, but you had better go away today, before nightfall. Good-bye, bold foreigner, my greetings to your comrades. I must hurry.”
The guide disappeared and Cavius, wrapped in thought, looked long after him.
No, they could not leave today and abandon their dying comrades to be torn to pieces by the hyenas. If there were water nearby that would be all the more reason for staying where they were.
Cavius returned to his comrades who were discussing what was to be done next. Since they had quenched their thirst and eaten, the men had become cooler in their judgement and were carefully weighing up the next move.
It was clear to all of them that it would be impossible to go north — they had to get away from the river as quickly as possible, but opinions were divided on the question of whether to go south or east.
The Asians, who constituted almost a half of the survivors, did not want to go deeper into the Land of the Black People and insisted on travelling eastwards. The Nubians said that in three, weeks they could reach the shores of the narrow sea that divided Nubia from Asia and the Asians were ready to attempt another journey through the desert to get home more quickly.
Cavius had been taken captive during an armed expedition. He had a family in his native land, and he hesitated: the possibility of a speedy return home was very tempting. His shortest way would be through Quemt, floating downstream in a boat until they reached the sea; but as an experienced soldier, who had spent much of his life wandering, he realized that a small group of people, lost in a strange land, especially in a desert, where every water-hole was known, could only survive by a miracle. So far the Etruscan had not met with any miracles in his life and did not have much faith in them.: