Gene Wolfe - Soldier of Sidon

Beyond the marshes there are many trees. Most are not large, and lush grass sprouts between them. Antelope of many kinds are plentiful, some having long horns. (There are wild goats, too, some with horns of enormous length.) One of the smaller kinds seems to stay near the water. I see them running on the riverbank as I write, and wading in the river. No doubt many are killed by crocodiles; they may be the crocodiles' chief food. If a man so much as lifts his spear, they whistle and flee.

My wives are in this boat with me, Cheche's children in the one that follows ours, watched by my slave. Not long ago she pointed with her chin to show me a wild dog of the kind that killed their father. It was spotted and dotted with black and seemed crippled, its hind legs too short; but it trotted easily and swiftly, keeping pace with our boat until it took some scent and turned aside. I thought it ugly, but its shoulders seemed strong indeed. Few dogs, I think, would fight as well.

Such a wild dog bit Cheche's first husband while he slept, she says. This was said with her hands as well as her mouth, since neither Myt-ser'eu nor I understand much of her speech. We speak as the people of Kemet do, and she as the king speaks. Some words are the same, I think, but not many. In time, we will learn her speech, and she ours. I know a few words already.

There are many lions-simba-here, she says. Also many leopards-chui. With so much game that must surely be true. WE HAVE STOPPED at a place that will be good for river-horses, building our fires some distance inland so as not to alarm them. While we waited for them to come out of the water, I spoke with my slave. His name is Uraeus. We have been together a long time, he says, but were separated when I went ashore to fight, taking Myt-ser'eu with me. I said I could not believe that I would take her if I were going to fight, but he swears I did. I have thought on this. Surely I did not trust her to be faithful, and here there are many strong men with whom she might betray me. The king has eunuchs to watch the queen; they are never far from her.

My sons wished to hunt with us, flourishing their spears. We made them stay with their mother. They are Vinjari and Utundu, and will be tall and strong soon.

We crept upwind with our spears, looking for a big bull. This kind of hunting is dangerous, as I had been told and soon learned for myself. One must keep the wind in one's face, stay down, and move quietly. I think I might have said that I could hunt as quietly as any other man, but it is not true. I know our king and the warriors with him stalked more quietly than I, though I did my best.

We had agreed that the king would stand first and throw his spear. As soon as he did, we would stand and throw too, at the same animal. We were very near a big bull. I waited for the king to throw, wondering what was wrong. When he stood, I saw he had crept very near. The river-horse roared, a terrible sound! We rose as one, and our spears rained upon it.

Then everyone was shouting and scattering. A second river-horse, one farther inland that we had failed to see, was charging toward us, not actually charging us but dashing back to the river. No one, seeing these huge creatures for the first time, would believe how swift they are. I think I might have been trampled if our king had not pulled me out of its path. Its side brushed me, and I felt that I had been struck; a bull river-horse must outweigh three or four ordinary horses.

The river-horse that so many spears had pierced reached water, but it soon died there and floated to the surface. By then we had gotten torches from the camp. My sons and I went out in a boat with a man of this place and tied a line to its foot. Now we have feasted. The skin has been awarded to men who wish to make shields of it. Myt-ser'eu says I had a shield; our king did not like it, so I left it behind when we left Cheche's village. I asked for a piece of hide with which to make myself a new shield. He would not give me one, saying I would have another soon, one chosen for me by a god. I wish I knew more of this, but he will not speak further. WE ARE STAYING in the king's city, Mji Mkubwa. There are hundreds of huts, all on stout poles. I asked Unguja about this. He says that the river floods once a year, so that all this level land is under water. I said it must be inconvenient. He laughed. Everyone has a boat, the water sweeps the away all filth, and the people of the city can fish out of their doors.

Myt-ser'eu was with us when we spoke. She says that this flood occurs in Kemet, too. It is then that great blocks of stone are taken up from the quarries, set upon rafts of countless reeds, and floated to the sites at which tombs, temples, and fortresses are being built. The floodwater soaks their fields, too, and leaves a gift of rich black mud. There is a river god, a very great god. He is blue, and friendly to men. Each year the flood is decreed by a goddess. We asked Unguja whether these gods were worshipped here, but he would tell us nothing, only saying that we must speak of other things.

The king's people have no temples. They go to sacred places immemorially old and worship there. That seemed very strange to both Myt-ser'eu and me, but the more I think on it the wiser I think it. Temples are like the images they contain, things made by men. Gods shape trees and caves, and smile down on us when we stand upon the tops of hills.

Myt-ser'eu says that Alala's people worship as the king's people do. I asked her about this Alala and her people, but she would tell me only a little, saying I had written about them and should read what I wrote. After that, I read much in this scroll, finding it interesting indeed.

When my eyes were sore, I returned to Unguja to ask whether he knew of a cure for men like me, who forget very quickly. He said only that I had been blessed, and that he longs to forget all he knows and be a child again. He has been promised this, and expects it in a few years; still, I wish to be as other men. I HAVE BEEN talking with Binti-talking with my hands as much as my mouth. She is my youngest, and a brave girl who will not permit her brothers to bully her. I applauded her, teaching her that it is better to fight and lose than not to fight. No one bullies anyone who fights and fights hard, although he is defeated. Such a person must be respected, and is. She said that women did not fight men-that they do not have to. If a man bullies a woman, all the women turn against him. Then the other men mock him because he sleeps alone. Women fight other women, however. She says that Cheche has fought others often, and won. I wondered then whether she would fight Myt-ser'eu. She is larger and stronger.

Binti said that Cheche would not, because Myt-ser'eu is my senior wife. I had known that, having read of her many times in this scroll; but I had not known Cheche would respect it. Two lesser wives may fight for precedence, Binti says, but more often it is the wives of different men who fight. Quarrels between lesser wives are judged by the senior wife.

Binti wanted to know which I would lie with tonight. I said I would lie with the wife who wished me to do so. She predicted that both would wish it. I told her I would never lie with her, but that I would protect her as well as I could. She sat close after that, and smiled so as to melt the hardest heart. Can a man who has no daughter be happy? It seems to me it must be difficult.

The king has many daughters and many sons, too. His palace is ten times larger than the other huts, a whole series of huts in which one opens into another. His children play everywhere in it, laughing and shouting. ANOTHER DAY. NOW the sun is setting, and the wind grows cool. I do not know how many days have passed since the last on which I wrote, only that my ink was dry and hard.

Myt-ser'eu and I have been speaking with the queen. She told us how much she wishes to return to her native city, if only for half a year. She made us promise to help her in this. Myt-ser'eu sounded much the same. She is from a place called Sais, and begged me to return her there. She had jewelry and money, she says, and gained more on the voyage south; but she lost everything when we were enslaved. She does not understand how I kept the gold beetle. She wept, and embraced the queen, and swore that she would rather be penniless in Sais than a queen here. I had to translate all this for the queen, which I did badly.