Lauren Haney - Face Turned Backward

“Our ship drew in close to shore, and the loading went fast. Not a man among us wanted to tarry.” The sailor stood up, eyed the site, grimaced. “We didn’t like this place. A land of death, we thought, even in the cool of night.”

“Who met you here?” Imsiba asked.

“We never saw anyone,” the man grumbled. “Just…” His voice tailed off; he shifted his feet, uneasy.

“We saw shadows in the dark,” the boy said in a hushed voice. “The oldest man among us, one who should know, said the sandhills were ancient burial places, so we feared at first they were shadows of the dead. Later…”

“Why not a headless man?” Tjanuny mumbled, chuckling,

“or some other specter of the desert?”

Bak silenced him with a frown, wanting no distractions.

The man and boy exchanged a quick look. The latter said,

“Later, after we finished loading, Maya thought to go off by himself for some reason. He’d not gone ten paces when an arrow came out of nowhere, narrowly missing him.”

“Dead men don’t carry bows and arrows.” The older sailor’s tone was dogged, as if a fear of the unknown nibbled at the edges of his commonsense. “Nor do they take traveling ships to the netherworld.”

It was Bak’s turn to exchange a glance with Imsiba. “You 58 / Lauren Haney saw another vessel here? The one that brought the contraband?”

“No!” The boy’s voice was so sharp the monkey grabbed his hair and wrapped itself around his head. “We didn’t know it was close by until we were ready to sail, and we don’t know for a fact that it left the objects we loaded. First, we heard across the water the groan and creak of rising yards and the snap of heavy linen catching the wind. Not long after, the ship sped south and we saw the spread of sail passing in the dark. Not easy to see, but impossible to miss.”

And impossible to identify later, Bak thought, irked. Especially when your wits are addled by fear.

“Mahu’s still here, I see.” Ramose stood at the prow of his ship, directing the oarsmen and the man at the rudder as they eased the vessel against the northern quay. “I thought by now he’d be well on his way to Abu.”

“I forgot we left him here.” Bak scowled at the cargo ship, no longer moored at the southern quay where last he had seen it, but tied up now at the central quay. He glanced at the sun and groaned. Close to midafternoon already. So much for the leisurely swim he yearned for. “I’d better search that vessel right away, Imsiba. The cattle and goats they had on board are tribute bound for the capital. The sooner they sail north, the better.”

Sailors threw hawsers over the mooring posts and pulled the ship on which they stood snug against the quay. The instant the gap closed, Bak leaped across to the landing, with Imsiba close behind. The stones felt hot beneath their sandaled feet, the air warm and close.

“Before I inspect that vessel, I must go to Commandant Thuty.” Bak drew the Medjay down the quay, out of the way of the men who were securing the vessel and setting out the gangplank. “Seldom do I have such good news to report. I’d like to be the first to deliver it.”

Imsiba laughed. “Then you mustn’t tarry, my friend. I’ll wager the rumors have already taken wing.”

“Don’t speed me on my way yet,” Bak grinned. “I’ve several tasks I wish you to shoulder.”

Imsiba’s smile turned wry. “I feared for a moment I’d have the rest of the day to myself.”

Bak laughed, but quickly sobered. “Before anything else, you must search out Pashenuro.” He was speaking of the Medjay sergeant next in line behind Imsiba. “Tell him to find a place-an empty house in the outer city would be best-where we can sequester the sailors from the wrecked ship. They’ve told us close to nothing. With luck, a few days with no company other than each other will remind them of many details they claim now they’ve forgotten.”

“Lieutenant!” Ramose strode around the deckhouse to the coffin and rapped it with his knuckles. “What shall I do with this? If I’m to return to Pahuro’s village and bring back all we left behind, I’ll need every square cubit of deck space.”

Bak eyed the white man-shaped box, undecided. It had no place in a warehouse, and the priests at the house of death were always complaining about a lack of space. He had not noticed the titles of the deceased on the manifest, but doubted the man was of sufficient importance to convince the priest of Horus of Buhen to keep the coffin in a storeroom in the god’s mansion. He could think of only one place, one that did not appeal in the least. “Have it delivered to the old guardhouse, Imsiba. With luck, we can send it on to Abu within a couple of days. Perhaps on your ship, Captain Ramose?”

“Fair enough,” Ramose laughed.

Imsiba shook his head in mock despair. “Little did I know when first I set eyes on you, my friend, that you’d make me caretaker to a coffin.”

Bak clasped his hands before his breast and deepened his voice, mimicking the chief prophet of the lord Amon. “The mastery of many tasks separates a great man from an ordinary one.”

Imsiba tried to look pained, but a grin broke through.

Ramose’s laugh boomed across the harbor, drawing the attention of sailors and fishermen and ferrymen, drawing laughter

60 / Lauren Haney from the men who toiled nearby whether or not they understood the joke.

When the laughter died away, Bak said, “After you’ve finished with Pashenuro and the coffin, you must come back here, bringing Hori with you. You’ll oversee the transfer of cargo from this vessel to the appropriate warehouse and he, in turn, will record that transfer. In short, you’ll treat the ship as you do each new arrival in Buhen, but Ramose will pay no tolls.”

Commandant Thuty leaned back in his armchair, adjusted the thick pillow beneath his rear, and stretched his legs in front of him. He had a way of looking around the unadorned, white-walled room he called his office that left no doubt of the pleasure he took in his command. Bak stood facing him between two of the four red columns which supported the ceiling. Other than the chair, the room held no furniture.

Thuty used it for official appearances; his real place of business was his reception room in the family quarters on the second floor.

“You’ve done well, Lieutenant.” Rubbing the palms of his hands together, Thuty grinned like a delighted child. “Very well indeed. You’re to be commended for convincing the headman that it would be in his best interest and that of his village to reveal the hidden contraband. And for dealing with its return to Buhen in the best manner possible under the circumstances.”

So far, Thuty had dispensed nothing but praise, giving no attention to the few small objects Bak had given the villagers.

Maybe he would overlook them in light of the vast number of items recovered. “I was lucky Captain Ramose was there.

Many ship’s officers wouldn’t have been so helpful, so willing to delay their voyage north.”

Thuty unrolled the false manifest and glanced through it as he spoke. “When the viceroy hears of all you found-a respectable prize by any man’s standards-he’ll surely send word to the vizier. Who knows? That worthy official may even whisper the news in the ear of our sovereign, Maatkare Hatshepsut.”

Bak shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the thought. The one time he had drawn the queen’s attention, he had been torn from his duties as a charioteer and exiled to Wawat.

Fortunately, what had been intended as punishment had turned out to be a gift of the gods. He liked Buhen and wanted nothing to imperil his life on the frontier. “I don’t know what Pahuro meant to do with so much of value. He could barter away the cowhides with no trouble and an ingot or two now and again, but the remainder, all rare and costly items, would’ve brought officials without number into his village, each with questions he’d have no end of trouble answering.”