The air was fresh and cool. A maze of leafy silhouettes surrounded us, revealing no clear way out of the little oasis. We had approached the inn in darkness, with the local boy to guide us. I could not remember the route.
“This way,” whispered Djet.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. This will lead us back to the main road.”
I was dubious, but since I had no better idea, I followed him-and a moment later I tripped over something large and fleshy lying in our path. As I stumbled, the metallic clanging of the sack slung over my shoulder seemed loud in the stillness.
I recovered my balance and looked down. The thing I had tripped over was a body lying on its back. The corpse’s face was hidden by deep shadows, but by his beard I took him to be the bodyguard who had sat behind Obodas while we played. The gore of his slashed throat glittered darkly.
Startled into silence, Djet took my hand and urgently pulled me onward.
The way was closely hemmed by fronds and leaves that barely made a sound as we brushed past. The sand beneath our feet was well trodden and firmly packed. Still, I held my breath at the faintest noise, and kept the sack as steady as I could.
We emerged from a densely shaded patch and suddenly confronted the soft glow of a lamp, the same lamp that had hung over the game of Pharaoh’s Beard, now held aloft by the Crocodile to illuminate the digging of a shallow grave.
Practically at our feet, heaped together, were the corpses of Obodas and the boy. The boy was still dressed in his bright red tunic, which was covered with stains of a darker red, especially at the neck, but Obodas had been stripped of his Nabataean robes and headdress. One of the Crocodile’s sons had put them on-strange garments to wear while standing in a hole and shoveling dirt.
The other son was using his bare hands to scrape dirt from the hole, while the Crocodile stood over them with the lamp. By its lurid glow, I saw the faces of all three, and barely suppressed a gasp. Their features were no longer even remotely human. They were animal-headed nightmares.
“Deeper than that!” said the Crocodile. He made a sound between a giggle and a hiss. “It has to be big enough for all four of them. Deeper, boys! Faster! As soon as we’re done here, we’ll go back to the inn and take care of that sleepyhead Roman and his squirmy little slave. Come daylight, we’ll send those three simpletons from Sais on their way. And then-”
“Then we’ll count the coins, eh, papa?” said the son with the shovel.
“And put the rings on our fingers, and take turns wearing the pretty ruby necklace?” said the other.
“The ruby is for your sister, boys. With a dowry like that, she can marry into the richest family in Canopus. But for now, keep digging. Deeper! Faster!”
Djet tugged at my hand, trying to lead me back the way we had come. Slowly, silently, my heart pounding in my chest, I drew back from the area illuminated by the glowing lamp.
Djet and I retraced our steps until we found another path, which branched to one side. As we stepped into a small clearing, I tripped over another body-the corpse of the second bodyguard. Tied to a nearby palm tree were the Nabataean’s camels, stripped for the night of their riding accouterments, which were neatly bundled and stacked nearby. There were also some leather skins filled with water and a bit of food, ready to be loaded onto the camels.
I had never yet met a camel I liked, or one that liked me. But I had learned how to ride one. I quickly outfitted the strongest-looking beast, and amid the trappings I found a place to store the bag of coins. Speaking the words I had been taught, I convinced the beast to kneel. I mounted it, and then reached for Djet, who stepped back, out of reach.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“I’ve never been on one of those.”
“This will be your first camel ride, then. Lucky boy.”
“Don’t they bite?”
“Never. Nor do they spit. The camel is the kindest and most docile of all creatures.”
“You’re lying!”
“Had you rather stay here and end up like that?” I gestured to the corpse of the bodyguard. The growing light now revealed the full horror of the gaping wound at his throat.
Djet scrambled onto the camel and seated himself behind me.
“Hut! Hut!” I grunted, and snapped the reins. The camel gave a snort and rose to its full height. Djet squealed and clutched me, holding fast. “Hut! Hut!” I repeated, and off we went at a steady trot, leaving the oasis and the Inn of the Hungry Crocodile behind.
The last of the stars had vanished. The road before us and the scrubby vegetation on either side grew lighter by the moment. With the sun poised to rise in our faces, we headed toward the Nile.
XIII
That day I strove to put as much distance as I could between us and the Hungry Crocodile.
I smelled the river long before we reached it-the rich, fecund, moist, reedy, fishy scent of the Nile and the alluvial soil of its widespread mouth, so powerful and pervasive that for as long as we remained in the Delta, the smell was around me everywhere and at every moment, day and night. Every part of me-my clothes, my hair, even my skin-would become steeped in this odor.
Following the route dictated by Tafhapy, I turned south when we reached the first branch of the Nile and took the road toward Sais.
There was little traffic on the road. When we stopped to eat at a roadside inn, we were the only customers. When we were obliged to cross the water, we were the only passengers on the ferry. This was not the harvest season, nor the trading season, but the quietest time of year. The growing fear of bandits also discouraged travelers. I felt rather conspicuous clopping along on camelback with Djet behind me-but conspicuous to whom? For long stretches, there was not another person in sight.
Not far from Sais, during a break to stretch our legs and relieve ourselves at the river’s edge, I decided to broach a delicate subject.
“You know, Djet, that I regret having wagered you.”
He shrugged. “It was my idea.”
“Yes, Djet, but you are a child, and a slave, while I am a free man. It was my decision, and it was a bad one.”
“Yet it turned out all right in the end.”
“Did it?”
“Of course. Are we not here, away from that awful place, standing in the pleasant shade of this sycamore tree, adding water to the Nile? I am still a slave, yes. And you are still a Roman and a half-wit, yes. But are we not both alive? And do you not have a bag full of treasure?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, all that is true-”
“Even the part about you being a half-wit?” He giggled.
I bit my tongue. “But I have to wonder…”
“You want to know if the Nabataean took advantage of me.”
I sighed. “Yes.”
“Because if he did so, it was without my master’s knowledge or permission, and Tafhapy will be very angry with you.”
“No, Djet. It’s not Tafhapy I’m concerned about.”
“Oh, is it me that you’re worried about? Me, the piece of property you wagered to get your hands on that ruby?”
Again I bit my tongue. “Yes, Djet.”
“I already told you what happened. Obodas drank the sleeping draft, thinking it was a love potion, and that was that.”
“He fell asleep at once?”
“He drank the draft one moment, and was snoring the next, lying there fully dressed with drool spilling from the corner of his mouth.”
“He did nothing to abuse you, then? When I heard that scream in the middle of the night-”
“That was the other boy, having his throat cut.”
“I know that now. But at the time-”
“You thought it was me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Yet you didn’t come running to rescue me.”
“I was drugged, Djet, just as Obodas was.”
He smirked. “I suppose I should spin a long, hair-raising story about the tortures to which he subjected me, and all the terrible things I was made to do, just to watch your face. But it would be a lie.” He threw back his head and laughed. “How great this goddess Fortuna must be, and how she must love you!”