[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
stood stunned and motionless.
A lance tip grazed Ahsha s left cheek.
Your credentials?
From beneath his cloak, Ahsha produced a tablet covered
with Hittite writing. The soldier read it and handed it to a
colleague, who also examined the document.
Where are you going?
Hattusa, with letters and invoices for the merchants.
Show me them.
They re confidential.
Nothing is confidential to the army.
I don t want to have problems with the recipients.
You ll have plenty of problems if you don t do as I say.
His fingers numb with the cold, Ahsha undid the string
around the sacks full of tablets.
It s got to be business, the soldier said as he examined
the documents. Can t make head nor tail of it. All right
then, we ll search you.
The courier carried no arms. The Hittite border guard
240 Christian Jacq
gave up in frustration. Before you go into any villages,
report to the checkpoint first.
Never had to before.
You do now. Show your credentials at every checkpoint,
or you ll be marked as an enemy and hunted down.
There are no enemies in Hittite territory!
Just do as you re told.
All right, all right.
Now hit the road!
Ahsha ambled off like a man with a clear conscience.
Walking beside the lead donkey, he fell into a steady pace
and took the road to Hattusa, in the heart of Anatolia.
Several times, he found himself looking for the Nile.
The craggy northland was hard to get used to; it lacked the
simple beauty of the great Valley with a river running
through it. Ahsha missed the sharp divide between culti-
vated land and desert. He missed the spectacular sunsets.
But he had to forget Egypt and think only of Hatti, this
cold and hostile land whose secrets he was determined to
learn.
The sky was low, unleashing violent downpours. The
donkeys stepped around the puddles and stopped to munch
on wet grass whenever they felt like it.
This was no country for peace. Its savagery made
everyone living here see life as a struggle and view the future
as survival of the fittest. How many generations would it
take to turn these desolate valleys into farmland, to make
soldiers into plowmen? Here men were born to fight, and
fight they would.
The placement of checkpoints at the entry to every vil-
lage intrigued Ahsha. Did the Hittites suspect there were
spies within their country, tightly controlled as it was by the
military? This unusual precaution was a clue in itself. The
Ramses: The battle of kadesh 241
army might be conducting maneuvers that needed to be
kept safe from prying eyes.
On two more occasions, roving patrols checked Ahsha s
mailbags and questioned him regarding his destination.
Each time he was allowed to go on his way. At the first vil-
lage he came to, he found a checkpoint and was subjected to
another thorough search. The soldiers were on their guard
and irritable; the counterfeit postman did not protest.
After spending the night in a barn, he ate some bread
and cheese and resumed his journey, secure in the knowl-
edge that his disguise was completely believable. In mid-
afternoon, he took a side road leading into some under-
growth. This was his chance to deposit a few tablets
addressed to nonexistent merchants. As he approached the
capital, he would gradually lighten his load.
The woodland overlooked a steep ravine. Huge boulders
had rolled to the bottom, pried loose by rain and snow.
Gnarled oak roots clung to the slope.
As he opened one of the sacks on the lead donkey,
Ahsha had the feeling he was being watched. The animals
were restless. Robins were flitting between the treetops.
He gathered up a stone and a piece of dried wood a
flimsy defense against a potential attacker. When he heard
the unmistakable sound of horses approaching, Ahsha
slunk behind a fallen trunk. Four men on horseback came
out of the undergrowth and surrounded the donkeys. They
were not soldiers, but bandits equipped with bows and dag-
gers. Even in Hatti there were caravan robbers! When appre-
hended, they were executed on the spot.
Ahsha flattened himself on the ground. If the four ban-
dits saw him, they were sure to slit his throat.
Their leader, bearded and pockmarked, sniffed the air
like a hunting dog.
242 Christian Jacq
Look, he said to one of his companions. This is no
prize. Nothing but tablets. You know how to read?
Never had time to learn.
Is this stuff worth anything?
Not to us.
Furious, the outlaw shattered the tablets and threw the
pieces into the ravine.
Whoever owns these donkeys can t have gone far. And
he has to have tin on him.
Let s spread out, ordered the ringleader.
Numb with fear and chilled to the bone, Ahsha kept his
wits about him. Only one bandit was heading in his direc-
tion. He crawled forward, hugging a tree root. The ring-
leader walked around him without even noticing.
Ahsha smashed the man s neck in with a rock. He fell
forward, his mouth in the dirt.
Over there! cried one of his accomplices, who d seen
the attack.
Seizing his victim s dagger, Ahsha hurled it, hitting the
man in his chest as he ran forward.
The two survivors readied their bows.
Ahsha s only option was to run. An arrow whizzed past
his ear as he clambered down the ravine, aiming for a briar
patch where he could take cover.
Another arrow grazed his right calf just as he plunged
into his temporary shelter. Covered with scratches, his
hands raw, he fought his way through the bramble, fell, got
up, and began to run again.
He ran until he could run no more. If his pursuers
caught up with him, he wouldn t have the strength to fight
them. But the ravine was silent, save for the cawing of a
flock of crows skirting black clouds.
Warily, Ahsha stayed put until nightfall. Then he climb-
Ramses: The battle of kadesh 243
ed back up the slope to where he d left his donkeys, edging
along the ravine.
The animals were gone. Only the bodies of the two dead
bandits remained.
Ahsha s own wounds were superficial but painful. He
washed at a spring, rubbed his bruised skin with the herbs
at hand, climbed to the top of a sturdy oak, and slept
stretched out on two thick, almost parallel branches.
He dreamed of a comfortable bed in one of the plush
villas Shaanar had provided in exchange for his services. He
dreamed of a pool beneath tall palm trees, a cup of vintage
wine, and a pretty lute player plucking a tune, then letting
him stroke her body. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
stood stunned and motionless.
A lance tip grazed Ahsha s left cheek.
Your credentials?
From beneath his cloak, Ahsha produced a tablet covered
with Hittite writing. The soldier read it and handed it to a
colleague, who also examined the document.
Where are you going?
Hattusa, with letters and invoices for the merchants.
Show me them.
They re confidential.
Nothing is confidential to the army.
I don t want to have problems with the recipients.
You ll have plenty of problems if you don t do as I say.
His fingers numb with the cold, Ahsha undid the string
around the sacks full of tablets.
It s got to be business, the soldier said as he examined
the documents. Can t make head nor tail of it. All right
then, we ll search you.
The courier carried no arms. The Hittite border guard
240 Christian Jacq
gave up in frustration. Before you go into any villages,
report to the checkpoint first.
Never had to before.
You do now. Show your credentials at every checkpoint,
or you ll be marked as an enemy and hunted down.
There are no enemies in Hittite territory!
Just do as you re told.
All right, all right.
Now hit the road!
Ahsha ambled off like a man with a clear conscience.
Walking beside the lead donkey, he fell into a steady pace
and took the road to Hattusa, in the heart of Anatolia.
Several times, he found himself looking for the Nile.
The craggy northland was hard to get used to; it lacked the
simple beauty of the great Valley with a river running
through it. Ahsha missed the sharp divide between culti-
vated land and desert. He missed the spectacular sunsets.
But he had to forget Egypt and think only of Hatti, this
cold and hostile land whose secrets he was determined to
learn.
The sky was low, unleashing violent downpours. The
donkeys stepped around the puddles and stopped to munch
on wet grass whenever they felt like it.
This was no country for peace. Its savagery made
everyone living here see life as a struggle and view the future
as survival of the fittest. How many generations would it
take to turn these desolate valleys into farmland, to make
soldiers into plowmen? Here men were born to fight, and
fight they would.
The placement of checkpoints at the entry to every vil-
lage intrigued Ahsha. Did the Hittites suspect there were
spies within their country, tightly controlled as it was by the
military? This unusual precaution was a clue in itself. The
Ramses: The battle of kadesh 241
army might be conducting maneuvers that needed to be
kept safe from prying eyes.
On two more occasions, roving patrols checked Ahsha s
mailbags and questioned him regarding his destination.
Each time he was allowed to go on his way. At the first vil-
lage he came to, he found a checkpoint and was subjected to
another thorough search. The soldiers were on their guard
and irritable; the counterfeit postman did not protest.
After spending the night in a barn, he ate some bread
and cheese and resumed his journey, secure in the knowl-
edge that his disguise was completely believable. In mid-
afternoon, he took a side road leading into some under-
growth. This was his chance to deposit a few tablets
addressed to nonexistent merchants. As he approached the
capital, he would gradually lighten his load.
The woodland overlooked a steep ravine. Huge boulders
had rolled to the bottom, pried loose by rain and snow.
Gnarled oak roots clung to the slope.
As he opened one of the sacks on the lead donkey,
Ahsha had the feeling he was being watched. The animals
were restless. Robins were flitting between the treetops.
He gathered up a stone and a piece of dried wood a
flimsy defense against a potential attacker. When he heard
the unmistakable sound of horses approaching, Ahsha
slunk behind a fallen trunk. Four men on horseback came
out of the undergrowth and surrounded the donkeys. They
were not soldiers, but bandits equipped with bows and dag-
gers. Even in Hatti there were caravan robbers! When appre-
hended, they were executed on the spot.
Ahsha flattened himself on the ground. If the four ban-
dits saw him, they were sure to slit his throat.
Their leader, bearded and pockmarked, sniffed the air
like a hunting dog.
242 Christian Jacq
Look, he said to one of his companions. This is no
prize. Nothing but tablets. You know how to read?
Never had time to learn.
Is this stuff worth anything?
Not to us.
Furious, the outlaw shattered the tablets and threw the
pieces into the ravine.
Whoever owns these donkeys can t have gone far. And
he has to have tin on him.
Let s spread out, ordered the ringleader.
Numb with fear and chilled to the bone, Ahsha kept his
wits about him. Only one bandit was heading in his direc-
tion. He crawled forward, hugging a tree root. The ring-
leader walked around him without even noticing.
Ahsha smashed the man s neck in with a rock. He fell
forward, his mouth in the dirt.
Over there! cried one of his accomplices, who d seen
the attack.
Seizing his victim s dagger, Ahsha hurled it, hitting the
man in his chest as he ran forward.
The two survivors readied their bows.
Ahsha s only option was to run. An arrow whizzed past
his ear as he clambered down the ravine, aiming for a briar
patch where he could take cover.
Another arrow grazed his right calf just as he plunged
into his temporary shelter. Covered with scratches, his
hands raw, he fought his way through the bramble, fell, got
up, and began to run again.
He ran until he could run no more. If his pursuers
caught up with him, he wouldn t have the strength to fight
them. But the ravine was silent, save for the cawing of a
flock of crows skirting black clouds.
Warily, Ahsha stayed put until nightfall. Then he climb-
Ramses: The battle of kadesh 243
ed back up the slope to where he d left his donkeys, edging
along the ravine.
The animals were gone. Only the bodies of the two dead
bandits remained.
Ahsha s own wounds were superficial but painful. He
washed at a spring, rubbed his bruised skin with the herbs
at hand, climbed to the top of a sturdy oak, and slept
stretched out on two thick, almost parallel branches.
He dreamed of a comfortable bed in one of the plush
villas Shaanar had provided in exchange for his services. He
dreamed of a pool beneath tall palm trees, a cup of vintage
wine, and a pretty lute player plucking a tune, then letting
him stroke her body. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]