With Commander Ayi in the lead they left Akhmim behind. Hung over and still stiff from the chill of the desert night, Tuti, Abba and Hann led their sections of men in silence. They would march until noon, rest in the midday heat and move on in the cool of the evening.Camp would be set up just before dark.
They had been on the march no more than an hour when Hann began to curse his bad luck. His section had been assigned to bring up the rear behind the baggage and marched in a cloud of dust kicked up by those in front. He cursed his luck; he cursed the dust and cursed whoever had called this goat track a road.
He no doubt had a right to curse, for the road to the oasis of Kharga looped out into the desert and was not so much a road, more of a trail that followed the desert waterholes. The caravans of the merchants used it to avoid the first three cataracts of the Nile. It was a busy route carrying gold, ivory and slaves from the land of Nubia to enrich the lords of Kemet. As suchit drew on occasion, a swarm of robbers from tribes of the desert. Hence the fortress of Kharga was charged with policing the border and protecting the trade route too.
Looking forward to the afternoon break Hann dismissed his section and plodded over to where Tuti and Abba sat. Seeing Abba’s face split into a grin he growled, ‘One word from you about eating your dust and I swear I will kill you with my bare hands.’
‘My, my, aren’t we touchy today. Would I say such a thing?’ asked Abba in feigned innocence as he looked to Tuti for support.
‘You would. But it’s too hot to argue. Why don’t you dust off and have some water Hann. Then I suggest we all get some rest. There’s still a long way to go and no doubt we’ll all eat dust before we’re done.’
Tuti’s words turned out to be prophetic.Commander Ayi – obviously aware of the dust problem for the rearguard – sent word that they were to change positions and it was Abba that drew the short straw. Not that he suffered long. An hour into the evening march a halt was called and the officers were ordered forward.
Last one to arrive, Abba hurriedly pushed his way through the milling men and strode over to where Commander Ayi and his two friends were examining what appeared to be several bundles of rags. The bundles were strewn, either side of, and stretched for some distance along the track. As he drew near he could see that what he had taken for rags were in fact the slaughtered bodies of men. Though who they were or what they were doing out here he had no idea.
He joined the others just as they reached another of the dead. The flies that crawled over the slender figure rose in a buzzing swarm, as Tuti turned the body over. It was a young boy, and had they not seen the wounds in his back, they might have thought him to be sleeping. Tuti shook his head sadly, rose and was about to turn away when a low moan issued from the still figure. Quickly he dropped to his knees, raised the boy’s head, called for water and wet his lips. At first there was no response other than a parting of his lips. But when Tuti soaked a cloth, then began to drip water into his mouth the boy’s eyes flicked open.
Eyes darting from one to the other the boy tried to speak but the only sounds to issue from his cracked lips were a series of low croaks. Tuti held a finger to his lips and shook his head. The boy lapsed into silence, but continued sip the water for awhile and then spoke in a low, harsh, whisper, ‘The Hawks.’
Tuti frowned, ‘Hawks?’
‘The Desert Hawks ... swept down ... killed all the guards and took everything.’
‘When?’
The boy looked back at him blankly and Tuti’s mind raced, the boy was failing fast and as much as he would have liked to let him die in peace, he needed as much information as he could get. He pressed on with the questions, ‘how long ago,’
The boy frowned and shook his head. It couldn’t have been that long or the desert heat would have finished off the boy by now. Tuti tried again, ‘Two hours?’ No reaction, ‘Three, Four?’
The boy gave the slightest of nods, sighed and fell back. Tuti laid him gently on the sand and stood, ‘he’s gone,’ he said sadly.
‘Bastards,’ said Hann as returned from checking the rest of bodies, ‘They’re all dead.’
‘In that case,’ said Commander Ayi, ‘We better give them a decent burial. Abba, Tuti, organise a burial detail and then get the men ready to march.’
As Abba and Tuti hurried off to carry out their orders the Commander turn to Hann, ‘Take two men and follow the trail. You should catch up with them before dark.’
‘What if we don’t?’
‘Don’t worry you will, they are herding a large coffle of slaves and are laden down with gold ivory and spices, so that will slow them down.’
The commander laughed at the look of stunned amazement on Hann’s face. ‘Don’t look at me like that it’s not magic. There has been no merchant train out of Akhmim in the last three weeks; therefore this one must be on its way in from Nubia, hence the slaves, gold, ivory and spices. Besides look at the size and the depth of the trail they’ve left behind.’
‘Hann smiled ruefully as he looked around. The commander was right and he felt stupid for not seeing it himself and all he could say was, ‘Sorry.'
'Don't be, just learn the lesson. Now go; and when you find them, send one of the men back. We'll not be far behind.'
