Soldier of Sidon

He will have a spear and shield. Unguja says this.

My foot is still swollen, tender, and red. WE STAYED HERE many days, Myt-ser'eu says, so I might fight about a death. Now the fight is over. This dead man's wife and children are mine now. So are his hut and boat. I have two wives, which the king says is common among his people. He himself has more than twenty, the queen being his chief wife. My old wife, the slender brown woman: Myt-ser'eu. My new one, the large black woman: Cheche. There are three children, two boys and a girl. I do not know their names.

Nor do I know the name of the man who fought me. I felt no enmity toward him, but he would have killed me if he could. We fought outside the village, in a pasture in which the villagers keep a few wild-looking cattle. The king called us before him and had us turn to face each other. We were five steps apart, perhaps. We were to fight, he said, when he clapped his hands. His warriors would keep the dead man's other relatives from interfering.

When he clapped I flung my club at my foe's face. He jerked his head away, and I think brought up his big shield. I ca

I had my little dagger, too, but did not use it.

There was a small man in the crowd who seemed familiar, an older man than I. His face is brown, like Myt-ser'eu's. He says he is my slave, and she says this too. I offered to free him-am I not myself a free man, though she says I was the king's slave once? He would not take his freedom, saying that he wishes only to free me. He was on a ship, he says, but dove from it when he heard my voice. He swam to the wrong bank of the river, and thus it was some time before he found this village. I must ask Myt-ser'eu more about this man, and she must teach Cheche to remember for me as she does.

I have said I am free; but surely no man is free who does not know how he came to be so.

30

DRY AND WET together. That is how I would describe this beautiful country. There are steaming marshes near the river, vast fields of reeds. Cheche says these are full of crocodiles, but that no crocodile inflicted the wounds she has just re-wrapped for me. There are river-horses in the river itself, some very large, black where they are wet and gray where the sun has dried them. Our king's warriors are eager to hunt them, and our king has promised such a hunt when we halt tonight. The river-horses will come out of the water to crop grass when the sun is low, and are best hunted at that time. The king has lions trained for the hunt, but they are far from us and we must do without them.

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 ru

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.