“What are you smiling at?” said Djet. “And where did you disappear to last night?”
“That is none of your business.” I reached out and mussed his hair.
He drew back and frowned. “You’re in a very strange mood.”
“Am I? I’ll tell you what I am: hungry. There’d better be some food out there.”
“You’ll have to hurry if you want any. The rest have already eaten. They’re all busy getting ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“How should I know? That’s why Menkhep says you have to come, and quickly.”
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and stood up. My arms and shoulders were stiff from rowing the previous day, and my back was stiff from certain other exertions, but no amount of physical discomfort could spoil my mood. I dressed myself and followed Djet into the bright sunshine. The cool, moist world around us seemed to have been scrubbed clean by the rain. The beads of water that clung to the tips of a nearby papyrus plant were turned into scintillating crescents by the slanting sunlight. Steam rose from the earth, and a veil of mist hovered above the lagoon.
“There you are!” Menkhep appeared and slapped me on the back. He was in high spirits. “Here, I saved you a bit of flatbread. Eat up! We’ll take some food with us of course, but we won’t break for a meal until-”
“Who are ‘we’ and where are we going?”
“Ah, you weren’t awake to hear Artemon’s announcement. As you know, Metrodora saw the storm coming yesterday…”
“Didn’t we all?” I muttered under my breath.
“… and last night, amid all the thunder and lightning, a vision came to her. It’s what we hoped for. The wreck should be waiting for us when we get there.”
“What wreck? And where?”
He shook his head and laughed. “It’s a good thing you won’t have to do much thinking today-just lots of rowing. Don’t worry, you’ll be in my boat. I’ll look after you.”
Some of the men had already boarded the long, slender boats tied at the pier. Others were pulling more boats from the foliage along the bank of the lagoon.
“Is everyone going?”
“Almost everyone. Artemon will leave sentries, of course, but those men will also be given a share of the booty.”
“Is it a raid?” said Djet. “Will there be a lot of bloodshed? Do I need to carry a weapon?”
Menkhep smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be coming, young fellow. This is work for men.”
Djet crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “But I-”
“Quiet, Djet!” I frowned. “Will he be safe here, on his own?”
“Don’t worry. Artemon has instructed everyone to leave the boy alone. No one disobeys Artemon. Now eat that flatbread and come along. Don’t forget to bring a hat with you-and a knife. And a scarf.”
“A scarf?”
“To cover your face, like this.” He demonstrated by pulling the cloth tied loosely around his neck up to his nose. “So that no one will recognize you. It’s for their own good. Otherwise, you’ll have to kill them.” He pulled the scarf down.
“I don’t think I have one.”
“Never mind, I have a spare I can give you. Now come along.”
Moments later, I joined twenty other men in one of the boats on the lagoon, seated at the rear next to Menkhep, from whom the others took orders. Some of the men were to row while others rested, and for the moment I was among the latter. With Artemon’s boat leading the way, one by one the vessels headed into the mist, leaving the Cuckoo’s Nest behind. I turned my head and saw Djet standing at the end of the pier, looking forlorn, and then the mist swallowed him up.
“How can anyone see where we’re headed in this mist?” I asked Menkhep.
“Don’t worry, there are men in each boat who know the way. We could take this route in the dark, and sometimes we have. The mist is actually a good thing. It hides us from anyone on the shore. It’s all right to talk, but keep your voice low.”
“Are we going far?”
“We’ll be traveling most of the day. Enjoy the rest while you can. Soon enough it’ll be your turn to row.”
“I’m already stiff from all that rowing yesterday.”
“Lucky you! The best way to work that loose is more rowing.”
We headed downriver. The boats glided almost silently through the water. The quiet splashing of frogs along the bank made more sound than we did. The mist was so thick, I could barely see the boat ahead of us, or the one behind. Occasionally instructions were conveyed from the front of the convoy to the rear, with the man in charge of each boat calling quietly to the boat behind.
A thought occurred to me. “Will you not be missed at the trading post, Menkhep?”
He shook his head. “My brother runs the place with me. We take turns.”
“He’s also a member of the gang?”
Menkhep nodded. “Happily for me, I get to go on the expedition today, while he stays behind and plays shopkeeper. He’ll have to look stupid and keep his mouth shut while everyone jabbers about the terrible fate of that old coot from Sais and his mob.”
The mist gradually cleared. The rays of the morning sun grew steadily warmer as it rose, but passing clouds provided shade. At times we passed through channels so narrow I could touch the foliage on either side. At other times we crossed open water, so far from land that the distant banks were mere smudges on the horizon.
We passed flocks of ibises and flamingos, small herds of hippopotami, dancing dragonflies and dozing crocodiles. When we weren’t busy rowing, Menkhep was happy to converse.
“I’m thinking of something you said this morning, about Artemon,” I said.
“Yes?”
“‘No one disobeys Artemon.’ Why is that? Why do the men fear and respect him so much? He’s so…”
“Young?”
“Yes. Even younger than I am.”
“Alexander was young, wasn’t he, when he led his men all the way to India and back?”
“Are you comparing Artemon to Alexander the Great?” I tried not to sound sarcastic.
“Some men have a certain quality. They were born to be leaders. Other men see that and respond to it. Age doesn’t matter.”
“But Alexander was born a prince and raised to be a king.”
“Do you think only those of royal blood can be leaders of men? I thought you Romans got rid of your kings a long time ago. Don’t you vote for the men who lead you? So do we bandits.” Menkhep hummed and nodded. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe that explains it.…”
“Explains what?”
“No one really knows where Artemon comes from. The same could be said of many of us, of course, but in Artemon’s case…”
“Yes? Go on.”
He shrugged. “As I say, none of us really knows the truth. Except perhaps Metrodora…”
“What are you talking about?”
“They call him the Cuckoo’s Child. There must be a reason.”
“You speak in riddles, Menkhep.”
“What does the cuckoo do? It lays its egg into the nest of another bird, so that when the egg hatches, the unsuspecting mother bird is fooled into raising the chick as her own.”
“Are you saying that Artemon was a bastard? Isn’t that what’s usually meant when a man is called a cuckoo’s child?”
“Sometimes. When a child never seems to fit with the family, people think an outsider must have fathered it. But ‘cuckoo’s child’ can mean something else. There’s an old story told by the Jews, about one of their leaders here in Egypt, back in the long-ago days of the pharaohs. He was called Moses.”
“I’ve heard of him,” I said, and almost added, from Bethesda. Her Jewish mother had taught her many stories about the old Hebrews, just as my father had told me stories of old Rome.
“Then you’ll know that Moses was born to a Hebrew mother, who set him adrift on the Nile when Pharaoh ordered that all Hebrew newborns should be killed. But Pharaoh’s daughter discovered the baby and raised him as her own. Moses was a cuckoo’s child-a slave raised to be a prince.”
“So now you’re comparing Artemon to Moses?”
“Except that Artemon’s story would be the opposite. A prince raised among paupers.”