Читать книгу Echoes Through Eternity - AJ Korvinus - Страница 6

It felt as if only a short time had passed since we left our barge washing against the west bank. All of the Tjaru labourers had reunited to find work at the king’s quarries. It gave the only honest rewards for drift workers like us.

Our sandaled feet had been enduring the rocky terrain for some time. I peered towards the stark simplicity of the western ridge, nothing but stone and sand. Behind us, Ra was pressed against the breast of the deep blue desert sky. The heat was becoming intolerable. Sweat had saturated my entire body, cutting into every crevice of my limbs like lacerating blades. I shaded my eyes against the wind-driven sand and intense glare with the only possession I owned - a simple reed mat given to me by my uncle. My eyes were still swollen by the sadness of the past night. I held very little hope for Tawri and me. Thrown into total desolation, buried in the wastelands, I was banished silently without a trace. How could she possibly find me now? My heart was bleeding and there was nothing I could do to ease the pain and suffering. I wished that death would strike me down for no mortal should live to bear such pain. It seems that young hearts are quick to ache, especially mine.

Just then a bellow of nauseating odour flooded my senses. I lowered the reed mat from my eyes and my revulsion increased a thousandfold.

I heard a voice declare. “Behold, the enemies of the king!” An arm pointed from the front line of hardened men. I saw a linear collection of gruesome relics, foreign soldiers and deserters alike impaled through the gaps between their ribs. Their rotting corpses sagged high on giant spears, naked to dishonour them. I stared with horrified eyes, my hand plastered over my face. Never had I tasted such gore in the air … it was depet mewt nen, the taste of death. We had been intentionally led on the path of the condemned ones to demonstrate the type of punishment awaiting disloyal hearts. I could see clearly where the staff had pierced through their lifeless torsos - I could see dried, lumps of dark bloodstains on their dried vermin-infested bodies. The sound of a thousand flying insects hummed around our ears like a swarm of locusts as we distracted their gory feast. As we walked through the shadows of death the merciless rays of Ra flashed upon us in violent bursts. His power grew stronger as the moments passed. I wished for death but not in the like of which I had seen that day. Just as my feet carried me past the final decaying victim of war I felt nauseous, my eyesight blurred. I could feel my stomach regurgitating in revolt. There was a large boulder sitting heavily in the ground towards my left. Immediately I felt a bitter sting in my throat and without any further hesitation, I sprinted towards it. As soon as I threw my self over the mound my mouth issued a spray of partially digested bread and fowl, saturating as well as discolouring the dry, sandy ground. My belly had emptied every precious nourishment it held to maintain my strength. As expected, Men was there beside me as a dedicated guardian to comfort his sickened boy.

“I will be fine.” My throat emanated a final retch. I cautiously stood up to prevent another potential episode. To my advantage, the wind was sweeping from the west supplementing our nostrils with dry but fresh desert air. The valley of death was finally behind us. I dared not look back.

Men threw an arm around my shoulder and hauled me towards the advancing line. “Come boy, or they will leave us here rotting with the corpses.” We carried on in silence. No one uttered a word, not even a whisper. The only sound was of our scraping sandals against the stone and sand.

Before long our ears caught the distant chimes of hammered chisels. Their sharp tones issued a welcome to our arrival. Ahead, a small stone quarry gradually came into view and we collectively sighed in relief. It appeared as a large out of place gap in the valley, exposing layers of dust and rock crafted into symmetry, perhaps two or three men deep with the occasional awkward wooden scaffold hinging on an edge. The embankment on the western side of the quarry that bordered between the Nile valley and the great western desert we called a-deshret. To the far northern side, I could see a small marshy oasis with a handful of scattered shrubs surrounded by a harsh desert boundary.

There were about 100 men slaving hard in the heat and glare, all of them coated white in fine dust. They appeared like desert nomads or mythological stone creatures birthed from the womb of the terrain. This, as it seemed, was our bitter destiny.

“Beu, beu!” A strong saluting voice called out. Men dropped his supporting arm off me and I quickly managed to sustain my own weight, for any weakened souls would surely be sent on their own way. His name was Neshi, a prudent and watchful observer of workers who carefully assessed his newly arrived work stock like any other overseer would. He walked around us studying our physical state - after all he was responsible for the quality and quantity of work produced at the quarry. King Ahmose’s building project had strict demands and had to be satisfied flawlessly. It was necessary for Neshi and other overseers in similar quarries to produce the building materials on time otherwise demotion would be their ultimate fate.

Neshi had a reputation as a strict but reliable overseer and regularly produced above quota. He was a man in his late thirties or early forties, strong and well-fed. A dusty white kilt tied with a sash suspended under his potbelly while a striped headdress waved gently over his pleased complexion.

“I am content with what the gods have brought me today.” The acoustics between the rocks enhanced his gratified tone, sounding more like a satisfied slave merchant. “Tell me my friends, how many of you have worked with stone?” His eager eyes roamed avidly as four in numbers slowly stepped out from the line. “Tell me, how many of you have mined for stone?” The line of men diminished, only a few of us remained unqualified. Neshi strolled up to us, grinning. “Fear not my friends, there is enough work here for everyone. Someone has to carry the raw load.” He forced a laugh, slapped Men on his broad shoulder then carried on. My uncle was beginning to dislike his new superior but remained silent. “Stonecutters and stone workers, you will be given your tools. At the end of your working day, you will give them to me for appraisal. The wear on your tools will be deducted from your pay.” Neshi casually strolled between the separated group of workers, shining with excessive self-confidence. He continued his lecture. “You will rest when Ra is at his highest … and when Ra sets. Work hard and you will be rewarded.” Then his tone hardened like coarse stone. “Work not and you will find your dirty hide crawling back to where you came from.” The overseer gave a cynical smile before ending his noble announcement. “Respect my orders and there will be no quarrel between us!” He began his descent towards the quarry, waving his arm in the air. “Come!” As Neshi led the way we followed like a fretful flock of sheep following a shepherd.

“I have met his type before,” Men mumbled, sounding bothered. “Such are inspired by the voice of their own authority … unworthy of anything else other than ordering peasants to satisfy their every whim.” Men found it difficult to work under the clutches of such an ambitious fool, especially when he himself had held a similar rank not so long ago. He knew that honest, hard-working labour was achieved by the respect and goodwill of the overseer and not by pathetic gestures of intimidation. I too began to dislike Neshi for that. “Fear not Itef for we will not lay waste in this forsaken place.” His protest did not go unheard as I saw others before us acknowledge him with a few simple nods.

We came to a halt at the edge of the quarry pit. The chorus of copper chisels grew louder as men below us pounded them hard into the stone with mallets made of hardwood. The air in the trenches was thick with dust. It was unfortunate for those men who had to endure such atrocious conditions but the finest quality of limestone lay hidden in the depths of the rocky earth. It is said that those who spend much time labouring in such pits die young - their blood turns to sand and their breath gives in. It is also said that even their ba turns dusty white.

We saw the first group of men descend into the pit on narrow wooden ladders, their saddened faces slowly blurred away in the chalky mist while others were ordered to perform their duties near a rubble of crudely worked stone blocks. They came from the belly of the pit where the bloodied and bruised hands of quarrymen cut the unfinished stone formations. The refining was up to a new group of men who would spend their lives etching away coarse edges to create perfectly proportioned blocks for the king’s grand construction scheme. These jobs required a type of skill and discipline Men and I did not possess. We were plantation workers, not stone miners. Regardless we had to compromise; there was no other choice. I followed the footsteps of the remaining few in front of me. I looked up and stared ahead. Swarthy, fatigued faces blemished by dust and sand awaited. The scanty few had seemingly been slaving for Neshi for quite some time. Many of them had their hands bandaged in blood-stained strips of fabric torn from the kilts they wore. Neshi loomed in the background and began to dispatch his orders.

“Move your hides and show me your worthiness!” Men turned around and looked at him with hatred. Neshi appeared slightly surprised at this sudden and unexpected act. Hitherto no one had attempted to intimidate him. “Are you feeling ill my good man?” Neshi began to challenge Men with sarcasm.

“I shall live!” Men grunted, turning away. The overseer hovered over him with a grimace, displaying his reigning superiority.

He drove his face against my uncle’s ear and whispered cynically. “If you show intolerance towards me again I will make certain that you rot alive in those pits below you.” He stood back sneering with his arms crossed. Again Men attempted hard to ignore him by concentrating on the frayed rope that lay limp in the compacted dirt like a dormant serpent. Then a voice yelled from the pit and our hands sank to find a grip on the entangled reed cord. My eyes followed its length snaking over the edge … and then it tightened and we felt a tug. It was going to take a synchronised effort to haul the load up to our dusty feet. The slightest imbalance could have resulted in a tumbling catastrophe. A falling-block of such proportions would crush a human like an insect.

We stood hard, sturdy on our feet with our arms extended waiting for the final word.

“Sedjem-wi!” bellowed the foremost man in our line. The rope tightened as an unbearable weight hinged on its other end.

“Tiw!” We shouted back. Simultaneously our hands pulled with all our might. I could feel every limb of my tortured body, every muscle tearing. I gasped for air to maintain my strength. The rope heaved past my waist over and over again. Just as my weakened body was on the verge of shattering I heard a rocky grind beyond the edge of the plateau. The tension in my hand finally slackened and I exhaled my overexertion. The gruelling effort did not last long but it was strenuous, and for that reason, it felt like an eternity. I could not imagine how I would tolerate the continuation of such toil. There was no choice - I either adapted to the hard labour or I would waste away into the arid land. I was truly damned.

Men gazed at Neshi who stood partially impressed. The Overseer chuckled and walked away. Men showed his despise with a hard spit in the dirt.

The day was long and exhausting. Ra had passed over the body of the great sky goddess Newt. He was finally entering her mouth and blackness would cover Kemet. Every night the sun god would journey through the body of Newt, and in the morning she would give birth to Ra once again. I too would be reborn in the coming day, after my body had rejuvenated during the night. The orchestra of snoring and whimpering did not bother me for I was accustomed to the sounds of exhaustion and suffering. We had gathered around the marshy oasis to rest under a starry sky. I lay on my reed mat beside Men and another young labourer like myself, Rensi son of Meru. He was born into a long generation of miners from a small settlement near the old capital of Amunemhaat-iti-tawi. Like his late father and his father before him, one-day Rensi was destined to befall the same fate … and like his forebears, his name will be forgotten forever. It was inevitable, none of us were immune to the dark blanket of oblivion. Our work, however, would be admired for a thousand years to come but those whose blood and sweat made it be - their names … our names will never be uttered again. It was a miserable fate but we had accepted it.

I could hear conversations among established workers mocking the newcomers and Neshi’s ruthless attitude towards them. To their advantage, Men had not heard their tasteless remarks as he was fast asleep. I, on the other hand, did not care. My drowsy eyes gazed into the blackness of the sky, admiring the clusters of stars like countless needle holes littered across a dark veil. As always, in my moments of solitude, my foolish heart revived the old and reminded me of the new memories, again and again. No matter how hard I tried, I could never forget Tawri. As my eyelids gradually shut, visions of her enchanting beauty stared back at me. After many seasons away I had finally laid eyes upon her once again. It was, perhaps, for the last time. There was no escape from the feelings I held for her. Soon I would see her again … but only in my dreams.