Читать книгу Biggles Flies South - W E Johns - Страница 5

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Mazeus, son of Hystomannus, leaned against the warm trunk of a royal palm and regarded with brooding eyes the endless sands that rolled away from his feet to the far horizon. What lay beyond that mysterious belt of purple-blue that veiled the distance, he wondered. What strange beasts dwelt there? Perhaps, those legendary monsters of which he had heard so much, the unicorn and camelopard. He thrilled at the thought of beholding them in the flesh, for Mazeus was young, barely sixteen years of age, and this was his first campaign with the mighty Persian host in which his father was a Captain of the Royal Guard, now encamped on the Oasis of Khargah, in Upper Egypt, the sinister land of that potent godhead, Ra.

The year was 525 BC, nearly five centuries before the Roman Caesar landed on the shores of barbaric Britain. Cambyses, conquering son of Cyrus the Great, founder of the Persian Empire, was on the march, adding more and more territory to his wide-spread kingdom. Egypt had fallen under the pikes and scimitars of his armoured warriors, and he had celebrated the event by destroying the sacred Apis and plundering the temples of the high priests. And now he paused at the oasis to refresh his troops, before moving on to conquer new worlds.

But strange rumours were current in the camp. With bated breath the superstitious soldiers told of strange signs and stranger portents, of crafty sorcerers caught in the act of casting spells, and fanatic necromancers who died with a curious light of triumph in their eyes; of pillars of smoke that rose from the desert by day and mystic fires that blazed in the heavens by night. Yet, when the furious Persian scouts had galloped out, they found—nothing. Some spoke of evil shapes seen slinking in the dunes, of double-headed cats, men with heads like dogs, and other horrors never seen before; yet not one could they slay. One archer vowed that he had seen his arrow pass through the body of a twin-faced hawk, yet it did not fall, and a slinger claimed that his stone had bounded from a hydra-headed snake which vanished on the open sand where there was not a hole, or bush, or any other hiding-place. It was all very mysterious.

Mazeus turned from his musings and saw his father striding through the serried ranks of resting men; his face was grave, and Mazeus felt a thrill of apprehension, for his father had been in council with the king.

‘What news, O Father?’ he asked, as the bearded captain reached their silken tent.

Within the restful shade Hystomannus placed his hands upon the shoulders of his son, a gesture of affection seldom shown. ‘You were over young for this campaign,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Would that I had left you with your mother in Persepolis.’

‘Over young, sir?’ cried Mazeus in surprise. ‘Why, all the sons I know, many much younger than I, have been to war.’ Which was true, for in those distant days boys were trained in the use of arms as soon as they could bear them.

‘That may be so,’ answered his father moodily, mopping the perspiration from his face with a towel. ‘But this is different.’

‘How so, my Father? Have I not acquitted myself in battle?’

‘Yes—yes. But now—I do not know. These pagan gods—within my heart there is a fear that neither common sense nor reason can dispel.’

‘You mean—the king has spoken?’

‘Yes. And he acts against the advice of all of us. This passion for strife is going to his head, I fear, until he knows not where to stop.’

‘You mean—he will go on?’

‘When the sun goes down we march—forward.’

Mazeus’s dark eyes opened wide. ‘Forward!’

Hystomannus pointed a finger at the shimmering, sun-scorched sand. ‘There lies our path,’ he said grimly.

‘For what purpose, Father? Have we not enough plunder already?’

‘More than enough; but Cambyses swears to sack the Temple and destroy the outlandish gods at Ammon. Rumours have reached him of this place, which is near a citadel called Siwah, the home of all the witchcraft in this thrice-accursed land, where none can quench his thirst although his body boils inside his armour. It is there, so ’tis said, the lying priests consult their Oracle.’

‘How far is it?’

‘No man can say. It lies out in the unknown desert, that is all we know.’

‘Cannot a guide be found?’

‘They prefer to die in agony rather than speak.’

‘But what of those who led us here from Memphis and Djebel Dakrour?’

‘They will go no farther. They say their feet are tied and their lips are sealed by Ra.’

‘Can no way be found to make them open them?’

‘None—we have tried them all, you may be sure,’ said Hystomannus dryly.

‘Yet still we go?’

‘Yet still. And now you know what I mean when I say that this is different.’

‘I will go and sharpen my lance,’ smiled Mazeus.

His father shook his head. ‘The enemies that we shall have to face will not be those of flesh and blood. Didst ever see me flinch before stones or flying steel?’

‘Never, my Father.’

‘There are worse things in the wilderness: such things as thirst, heat, dust-devils that sweep across the sand and carry all before them. No sword can hold such things in play, no shield can stem their rush.’

‘Father! It is not like you to talk this way,’ cried Mazeus in alarm.

‘I know, I know,’ Hystomannus shook himself almost savagely. ‘It is these accursed priests,’ he muttered. ‘We have destroyed their gods, and in the night strange voices say they will destroy us, too.’

Mazeus smiled, a little nervously, perhaps. ‘We shall see. How many men are going on this expedition?’

‘Fifty thousand.’

‘You mean—?’

‘The army marches forward as the sun goes down. Come, let us prepare.’