Once he was sure the pirate was dead, Piay tore his sword free and darted to where Hannu clashed blades with a pirate almost twice his size. Piay rammed his blade under the attacker’s ribcage, then let him fall on to the bodies that littered the deck around Hannu’s feet.

  Finally it seemed like the waves of pirates leaping from the other ship had ended. Spaces had opened up along the line. But fighting had erupted across the slave ship.

  Piay whirled from fight to fight, giving support wherever he could, and he glimpsed Hannu doing the same.

  In the melee, he lost all perspective. There was only hacking and thrusting and blood and death.

  But then a keening cry rang out, loud enough to cut through the clamour of battle. Piay caught sight of two figures wrapped together on the stern platform of the pirate ship. He blinked, not quite sure what he was seeing.

  The pirate captain stood rigid, his head pushed back and his throat bared. Behind him, one arm pressed tight against the captain’s chest, the other hand holding a knife to his neck, was Myssa.

  Piay felt a rush of terror that she had put herself in such danger. He could only imagine that in the confusion, she had thrown herself across the gap between the two ships and somehow caught the captain off guard.

  Myssa ululated another high-pitched cry. This time more eyes were drawn to the source of the sound. The fury of the battle ebbed. Enemies stepped apart. Weapons drifted down. The slavers were mesmerised by what they were seeing. But the pirates were gripped by the sight of their leader in peril. They knew any sudden movement on their part could cost him his life.

  Piay watched Myssa’s face, trying to read her intentions. Surely she’d call to the pirates to lay down their weapons in exchange for their captain’s life. Time seemed to hang as her gaze moved across the pirates and the slavers staring at her.

  With a swift flick, Myssa raked the blade across the pirate leader’s throat. His men cried out in shock as the blood sprayed and their captain slumped to the boards.

  The bloody blade floated to her side and she looked at the gathered men with disdain. She’d done what needed to be done. There could have been no benefit in keeping the pirate captain alive. His men might have retreated, but they would come back again until they had what they wanted. Myssa understood.

  Hanbaal leaped on to the rail and commanded his men to seize the moment. The pirates were leaderless, their ship and their purpose lost. Any further fighting would be futile. Now they only had to pray for mercy.

  One by one, their weapons clattered to the deck. Jeering, the slavers jabbed them with the tips of their swords to round them up. While a group kept watch on the captives, Hanbaal ordered others to leap across to the pirate vessel and search it for anything worth plundering.

  Piay raced to the rail and held out his arms for Myssa to leap back. He held her tight.

  ‘What were you thinking?’ he breathed.

  ‘I was thinking of victory.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘What were you thinking?’

  Exhausted, Piay and Hannu slumped down by the helmsman’s platform. Myssa crouched beside them, wiping her hands on the deck to clean the blood off.

  Hannu eyed her. ‘You wielded that knife with the skill of a seasoned member of the Blue Crocodile Guards. I’d wager there are things you are not telling us.’

  Myssa stared at the streaks of blood on the planks, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

  Piay glanced at Hannu. He knew his assistant’s moods, and at that moment Hannu was like a dog with a bone.

  ‘You can navigate by the stars and uncover tracks through lands you have never seen before. You know how to set traps, you know how to hunt. You are wise in the ways of the fruits of the land and the behaviour of beasts and birds. Who are you?’

  ‘Who am I?’ This time Myssa did look up and her eyes flashed. ‘I am the hope of my village, the hope of all my people, and now that hope has been cruelly snatched away.’

  Seeing Myssa’s simmering emotion, Piay tapped Hannu’s arm to urge him to stop pressing her. But Hannu wouldn’t relent.

  ‘Speak,’ he said.

  Myssa’s voice was as cold as the dark depths of the Great Green.

  ‘In my home, the king is advised by the one among all his people with the sharpest wits. They are chosen when they are a child, and from then on, they are taught all the knowledge of my people – of the stars and the land and the beasts. The knowledge of the mines and the farms. Other tongues. All the wisdom that the elders have amassed across their long lives. They are taught how to fight, to defend the king if needs must. Once chosen, they will guide the king, and through him the people. The prosperity and safety of the village depends upon them.’

  ‘And you were chosen,’ Piay said.

  ‘And when I was stolen, I did not only lose my home and my people did not only lose a dutiful daughter. They lost everything. All their days yet to come . . .’

  Myssa’s voice trailed away and she turned her gaze back to the streaks of blood.

  Piay felt his heart swell at her pain. He had never thought in any depth about her plight, and why would he? She was a slave. But now this matter would weigh heavily on him, he knew.

  Piay glanced along the deck. Hanbaal strode around the ship, examining the wounded members of his crew to see which ones were capable of working. The pirates had cost him several men, but there were more than enough to get the ship to shore.

  Hanbaal surveyed the huddled mass of surviving pirates. They were broken men, Piay could see. Their heads hung down, the fire in their bellies extinguished. They knew what their fate would be.

  Hanbaal was not a man inclined to forget any sins against him. He ordered the pirate ship to be scuttled. Once it had been sent to the deep, he stood over his captives and told them they had a choice: die on the end of a sword, or leap into the ocean and drown. Most of the men knew what would be the easier death, and they shuffled to the rail and hurled themselves over the side. A few who were overcome with terror tried to struggle. They were cut down and tossed in after their crew-mates.

  When he’d finished the grim work, Hanbaal ordered his men to take the ship back on course and then he strode over to where Piay, Hannu and Myssa waited.

  ‘I told you she had too much fire for a slave,’ he said, nodding towards Myssa. ‘And this once I am pleased that I was right.’ Hanbaal turned to Myssa and bowed. ‘You have my gratitude, and that of all my crew. You showed courage this day, more courage than those black-hearted curs who attacked us.’

  Myssa nodded, but she showed no warmth.

  Hanbaal turned to Piay and Hannu. ‘And you fought with courage, too. That has not gone unnoticed by my men, or by me.’ He rubbed his hands together, grinning. ‘We are friends now, and someone who has friends is rich indeed. Hanbaal the Phoenician is in your debt, and I am a man who can always be counted on to pay back what is owed.’ He bowed, then added, ‘For now, be prepared for the wonders that are to come upon our voyage – not the least of which is a ship that sails upon the land.’

  P

  iay felt relief when he saw the ochre strip of shore emerging from the haze. The waters of the Nile were a joy to him, but if he could avoid sailing across the Great Green again, he would die a happy man. At least for the rest of their voyage, they could sail within sight of dry land.

  That vision seemed to cast its spell over everyone on board. Hanbaal strode the deck, beaming and clapping his hands as he urged his men on. Two more had died from their wounds since the pirate attack and several needed attention from a physician. Loyal to the last, Hanbaal had vowed to pay for their treatment, though whether it was a show to inspire undying loyalty in return, Piay was not sure. But the slaver would also need to find more sailors to replace those who had been lost.

  The men settled on their benches and grasped their oars, their full-throated singing soaring high as they dipped the blades to draw the ship through the shallows. Piay heard joy, a musical prayer of thanks that they had been transported safely across the gulf.

  Piay glimpsed a figure hunched over Myssa where she sat near the helmsman’s platform. It was Ragan, Hanbaal’s second in command. His mouth was close to her ear, whispering. Whatever he was saying, Myssa was not pleased.

  Piay strode over. ‘Is there something amiss?’ he called.

  Ragan stood up, grinning. His milky eye glistened in the sun.

  ‘No troubles here. We are old friends, Myssa and me.’ He walked away, whistling.

  Piay crouched beside Myssa. ‘Is there anything wrong?’ he murmured. ‘If Ragan is—’

  ‘Nothing wrong.’ There was a crack to her voice that hinted at the opposite.

  Piay watched Ragan lean into conversation with Hanbaal. If Myssa didn’t want to discuss this further, he wouldn’t press the matter, but he would keep an eye on Ragan from now on.

  T

  he cooling sea breeze fell away as the ship steered along one of the narrow river channels and into the steaming heat of the delta. Piay breathed in the choking reek of rot from the vast papyrus swamps that reached out as far as the eye could see. Turtles sunned themselves on the islands that dotted the dank black pools, and the croaking of frogs was the only sound that broke the sweltering silence.

  Piay sat beside Hannu and Myssa. Hannu was whittling a shard of wood from one of the shattered shields with the small knife he kept tucked in his kilt. He balanced the blade on his palm and glanced at Myssa.

  ‘Have you killed before?’ he asked.

  Myssa’s eyes flickered down. ‘I have thought about it, many a time. But, no.’

  ‘Then you should prepare yourself, for this is a burden that will take a while to slip from your shoulders.’

  ‘I can see how that could be.’ Myssa thought back to that moment when she had slit the pirate captain’s throat.

  ‘When boys join the army,’ Hannu continued, ‘they are brimful of the vigour of youth and can’t wait for the first time they cut down an enemy in battle. Their captains warn them that there will be a cost. They never listen. Because, like in so many things, the learning comes in the experiencing. No one can imagine what anything will be truly like. In killing, there is a cost. Always. Even after your sword has tasted blood many a time. Taking a life should never be done lightly, even if that life belongs to the bitterest enemy, for it scars the soul.’

  Piay heard the truth burning in Hannu’s words and knew he was speaking from his own experience. And he was right. How many times had he tried to make light of the lives he had ended? Yet in the dark of the night they always haunted him.

  ‘These are desperate times,’ Myssa said. ‘I did what I had to do.’

  Piay understood. They were desperate times for all of them. Who would he have been if Egypt had not been convulsed with war for all his life? A scribe? A poet? A farmer? But those were the dreams of children and there was little point in dwelling on them.

  Piay looked up to see Hanbaal hurrying along the ship towards them, his white robes swirling around his ankles.

  ‘Quickly,’ he said, his eyes darting. ‘Move into the hold.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Piay asked.

  ‘There is a boat moored ahead. A Hyksos crew. Perhaps taxmen, perhaps not.’ Hanbaal glanced over his shoulder. ‘Bearing in mind your . . . difficulties . . . with the invaders, it’s better you are not in plain sight should they decide to venture aboard.’

  ‘You have our thanks.’

  Piay pushed himself up. From ahead, he could hear the barbarians hailing the ship.

  ‘In the hold, go astern,’ Hanbaal said. ‘There you will find a heap of filthy sailcloth, for repairs at sea. Crawl beneath it.’

  Hannu grunted. ‘The last time we hid beneath a cloth we were almost discovered.’

  ‘It is not the cloth that will hide you. The rats nest in that place. If they search the ship, the Hyksos will not look too hard there.’

  Hannu blanched. ‘Rats?’

  Piay chuckled. ‘You have fought the bloodiest battles against the most fearsome foes and you are frightened by vermin?’

  ‘If you had been buried in a shallow grave with rats nibbling at your toes you might think differently.’

  ‘You never told me that,’ Piay said, frowning.

  ‘You never asked.’

  Myssa rested her slim fingers on Hannu’s shoulders. Smiling, she said, ‘Huddle up to me. I will stroke your brow and whisper soothing words. You will soon forget the rats are there.’

  Piay felt surprised by a pang of jealousy at the kindness Myssa had shown Hannu – such an uncommon emotion for him, he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever experienced it. Before he could consider it, they were hurrying across the deck and lowering themselves into the suffocating dark of the hold.

  Once his eyes had accustomed to the gloom, Piay squeezed past the amphorae and baskets of supplies to where the sailcloth was heaped. He lifted one edge and watched the waves roll across the cloth as the rodents squirmed and scurried beneath it. Hannu clasped his hand to his mouth and for a moment Piay thought his assistant might vomit. But then Myssa was easing him under the cloth. Piay crawled in after them. A scaly ringed tail lashed his arm and claws scratched across the back of his hand, but then the movement stilled as he settled into place. His nostrils flared at the choking reek of vermin urine and he forced his breathing to stay calm.

  Voices droned through the hold from the open hatch. In the dark, Piay strained to listen, ready to leap up to fight for his life. Hanbaal’s voice was loud and clear and Piay realised the slaver was speaking so that they all could hear him.

  From his tone, the Hyksos had already boarded the ship. Piay imagined the barbarians standing there, hands resting on the hilts of their crescent swords, sullen gazes sweeping across the deck. Had they heard tell of an Egyptian spy and his assistant? Had Sakir set his guards on all river routes into the interior?

  Hanbaal was saying, ‘We have had a profitable voyage and all our slaves have been sold across the Great Green. Now we go south, to Kush and beyond, to gain fresh supplies.’ After a moment, he continued, ‘I am a poor trader, as you can see, scrabbling to make a crust to feed myself and my men. This is a hard business. Little reward. But we keep going and pray to the gods that one day our fortunes will improve.’

  Piay sensed movement beside him – a rat burrowing under the cloth, drawn by his musk. He stiffened, holding fast.

  Hanbaal said, ‘Yes, the hold is empty, as you can see if you look into the hatch. There is nothing down there but rats.’ After another silence, he said with a note of reluctance, ‘Yes, and what meagre profits we made from our voyage to the Peloponnese.’

  The rat wriggled closer. Piay flinched as he felt its fur brush along his arm towards his shoulder.

  ‘Taxes, you say?’ Hanbaal boomed. ‘We will pay our taxes when we travel along the Canal of the Pharaohs.’ A pause, then, ‘Ah. Taxes now, too, of course, of course.’

  Piay could hear the strained tone in the slaver’s voice; he was putting on a brave face, but this would irk him more than anything. Would he give up his passengers in return for keeping hold of his gold?

  Piay moved his hand towards his sword and the rat clawed across his shoulder, nuzzling its nose and whiskers into his ears. He jerked his head before it could take a bite of him. The rodent twisted and rolled away, its tail lashing his face.

  Piay heard movement in the hold. He clamped his hand on his sword hilt, ready for the sailcloth to be ripped off him. Instead, there was a rustling around the basket where Hanbaal kept his earnings and then the sounds receded. The slaver was paying his dues. Piay had misjudged him.

  After what felt like an age in that sickening atmosphere with the constant squirming, Piay felt the ship begin to move. The barbarians must have departed with their booty. They were on their way south once more.

  Piay pulled his way out from the hiding place. He flailed, trying to stay upright when Hannu scrambled past him as fast as any scurrying rat. In the middle of the hold, Hannu put his hands on his knees and dry-retched. He turned to Piay and stabbed a finger.

  ‘Never again. I will take my chances with the barbarians. With an army of them!’

  He stomped away and pulled himself into fresh air.

  Piay threw his head back and laughed. He sensed Myssa slide next to him.

  ‘Don’t tease him,’ she whispered.

  ‘Sometimes I think my very purpose upon this world is to torment Hannu,’ he chuckled. ‘I keep him honest.’

  ‘And he, you.’

  After a moment’s reflection, Piay nodded in agreement.

  ‘And he keeps me honest, too.’

  Hanbaal was waiting for them on deck.

  ‘Now you have our gratitude,’ Piay said.

  ‘We must take care from this moment,’ the slaver replied. ‘The Hyksos were searching for two men – Egyptian spies, they said.’ He fixed his gaze on Piay, but was politic enough not to probe further. ‘But they had no expectation of finding them on a slaver ship, and so were easily bought off with a little gold. However, that tells me there will be plenty more questions asked between here and when we reach the Red Sea.’

  ‘Whatever bribe you had to offer will be repaid in full once we reach Thebes.’

  Hanbaal nodded. ‘Very good, very good.’ He grinned. ‘But if there is danger ahead, and a great deal of it, then the price of our business must surely increase.’

  A

  n eagle swooped across the silver sky, its piping call ringing out over the date palms. Piay watched its passage, pleased to be out of the sticky papyrus swamps and into the Canal of the Pharaohs. How long ago this waterway had been built, he had no idea, but it had seen better days. The banks were crumbling and silt was heaped up in the shallows. There was little sign it had been dredged in recent days. But the air smelled fresher and he filled his lungs as he stood in the prow with the sailor who sounded the depths with his wooden pole.

  Hanbaal’s ship sailed along the centre of the channel where the water was deepest, moving steadily eastwards. The oars dipped and splashed, the lines creaked, the hull groaned, and the sailors sang along to the music of their vessel.