Gene Wolfe: Soldier of Sidon

Merchants were waiting to view the hides in our hold, portly, serious men with many rings and oiled skin. At Muslak's order, sailors carried up three and four hides of each kind. They were of fine quality. The merchants went down into the hold, chose others, and carried them up to view in the sunlight, which was then so bright as to be almost blinding. I helped, and these hides too were fine. Several made offers which merely amused Muslak.

He explained to them that he can get much a better price in the great cities to the south. The merchants here in Sais will offer only the lowest prices, thinking that he will wish to sell what he has and get another cargo quickly.

Some time after we ate, a soldier of Parsa arrived with a letter for Muslak. I studied this soldier, for it seems I have been a soldier of Great King's just as he is. He was of medium height, bearded, and appeared strong. He had a bowcase, a light ax with a long haft, and a dagger. He wore more clothing than most people do here.

Muslak scowled at first when he read the letter, then smiled. When he had finished, he read it again before he rolled it up and put it into his chest.

The three of us found a scribe, and from what Muslak said I learned that the letter had been from the satrap of Kemet. Muslak told him that his ship was large and sound and his crew strong, and declared that he would obey at once. The soldier left with Muslak's letter, although I would have liked to speak more with him.

"You'll see thousands like that, Lewqys. We're going to the White Wall, the biggest fortress in the whole country."

"To see the satrap?"

Muslak nodded. "To see Prince Achaemenes himself. He has a job for us."

I asked whether this Achaemenes would pay us, for I wish to earn money.

"He says he'll reward us handsomely." Muslak fingered his beard. "He must be one of the richest men in the world."

There were more merchants, but the heat made me sleepy. I found a shady spot under a tree in the courtyard of our inn and slept.

MUSLAK WOKE ME to go to the temple. He asked what I remembered, and I told him everything.

"That's good. You'll have forgotten most of it tomorrow, I'm afraid, but you may remember telling me now. Here, carry this."

It was a ram skin dyed red, very fine. "We'll have to give the goddess a nice present," Muslak explained, "and that can be sold for a good bit more than I'm willing to give."

The priest smiled when I held it up, and accepted it graciously; he is a tranquil man of middle height and middle years, with a shaven head. I took advantage of the moment to ask about Hathor, explaining that I was a stranger to his country and knew only that she was a great goddess here.

He nodded solemnly. "I would rather try to teach you, young man, than those who feel that they already know more than enough, as I must so often do in the House of Life. First let me assure you that no mortal ever knows enough, much less more than enough. You have seen her image?"

I shook my head.

"Then come with me. We will go into the forecourt."

It is a vast building, and the columns that support the lintel are larger than the houses of the poor and as tall as trees. Lamps flickered within, lonely dots of yellow light in the gloom. Beyond them, the broad doors of the inner temple were half closed. Through the opening I glimpsed the image of the goddess.

That, too, is huge, taller than any of the tall private houses we had seen. Its dress is rich, and it gleams with many gems. In form, it is a woman with the head of a cow.

"Hathor was wet nurse to Osiris," the priest explained. "We give animal heads to many of our gods to illustrate their honor and authority. You foreigners are frequently puzzled by it, wishing your gods to be like yourselves. Hathor is not like us, but a mighty divinity. It is Hathor who feeds the dead and governs love and the family…"

I heard no more. A horned woman taller than any man had stepped from behind the image of the goddess. As she strode toward us, it seemed that some other held a lamp behind her, so that her whole form was outlined with light, although her smiling face was shadowed. "You go into danger, foreign man," she told me. "Do you wish my help? You may have it at a price."

I wanted to kneel but found I could not. My body was still standing next to Muslak. "I need your help very much, Great Goddess, but I have nothing to give but my sword."

"You will have other uses for that. You are strong and a warrior, a man who has much love to give, and protection to give to those you love. Will you give those things, if I help you?"

"Very willingly," I said.

"That is well. I am going to send my kitten to you. You must love and safeguard her for my sake. Will you?"

"With my life, Great Goddess. Where is it?"

"Here. She will come to you and rub herself against you. When she does, you must accept her as your own."

The goddess was gone as though she had never been. The priest was saying, "There are seven Hathors along the river, and all are Hathor. When they meet, they decree. Whatever they decree must come to pass, no matter what gods may do or men may say."

I asked, "If they were to decree that I was to remember as other men do, would it happen?"

The priest nodded, his face more solemn than ever. "Whatever they decree must come to pass, as I told you."

"I've nothing to offer," I said; then recalling what the goddess herself had told me only a moment before, I added, "beyond love and protection."

"You have prayers to offer, young man. Those alone may be sufficient. As for love, it is hers. Therefore those who love have her favor. Not all that passes for love is true love, however. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"As for protection, many families require it. Protect them, protect children particularly, and you will gain her favor. Rich gifts from the rich are very well, but the things the goddess most desires are things anyone can give."

Muslak asked, "Will you pray for Lewqys here, Holy Man?"

"I will."

"And for me and our ship?"

"I will do that also, Crimson Man."

Muslak cleared his throat. "That's good. Now I'd like to hire a singing girl to go to Mennufer with me. The satrap wants my help."

"In which case," the priest said carefully, "you must provide it."

"That's right." Muslak cleared his throat again. "Now as I understand it, I can pay a flat fee and get a girl for the trip. Is that the way you do it here?"

The priest nodded. "For a long journey up the river, if you choose, and if you will return here at journey's end."

"Absolutely. I'll be going back to my own city after I've helped Prince Achaemenes."

"Then there is no difficulty. You must treat your singing girl well every day that she is in your company, you understand. Share your food and so on. You may beat her, but not beyond reason and not so as to endanger her life. She is entitled to leave you if your provisions for her are worse than those you provide for yourself."

Muslak nodded.

"When you return her, you will owe no more, since you must pay the full fee in advance. It is customary, however, to make some gift to her if you have been pleased."

"I will," Muslak said. "Something nice. I should have quite a bit of money when I've done what your satrap wants."

"He is not our satrap, Crimson Man." The priest frowned.

Muslak shrugged. "He's not ours either, the way you mean. But we've got to do what he says. So do you."

"You wish to hear the singing girls?"

Muslak nodded.

"First I must see the color of your gold."

Muslak shook a few coins from his burse into his hand and displayed them.

"One of those," the priest said, and pointed.

"A daric? That's too much!"