Isle of Woman (Geodyssey) Read online

  He watched as the wagon driver hauled the girl to the wagon, where he tied her with a rope about the waist. She did not protest, apparently realizing that she would only make her situation worse. Though her tunic covered most of her body, it was evident by the way she moved that she had the health and beauty of youth. Perhaps she was the headman’s daughter, leading a privileged life until this moment. Stone felt sorry for her; she surely had done nothing to deserve the fate she faced.

  Meanwhile the headman was attracting attention. People came out, listening to him and staring at the fire. But they did not report for labor within the Hittite Empire. They charged the wagon and chariot, wielding clubs.

  The officer sighed. “I see we shall have to make a further demonstration. Be ready with your shield, shield bearer.”

  The charioteer signaled the horses, who leaped into action. Stone had to brace his legs hard as the vehicle swung about. The horses charged the villagers, who scattered. One did not get out of the way quickly enough, and was knocked to the ground by the shoulder of one of the horses. Stone saw that the Amorites were terrified by the swiftly charging chariot; its effect was as much psychological as physical.

  The charioteer guided the horses in a trot. They looped around and oriented on the village again. The chariot stopped. The officer surveyed the situation, satisfied.

  The villagers were in complete disarray. The fight had left them. The headman’s house still burned, unattended.

  “Proceed to your storehouse,” the officer called. “Load the wagon.”

  This time the villagers obeyed. They walked to the house where their supplies of grain and silage were. They began bringing out the storage crocks.

  Then other men appeared. These were more fully armed, carrying swords or spears as well as clubs. There were about ten of them. They were evidently Amorite soldiers, alerted by the fire and commotion. Immediately the villagers’ attitude changed. They turned to face the chariot, picking up their clubs.

  The officer shook his head with mock reproach. “These are extremely slow learners,” he remarked. Then he faced the wagon and shouted: “Reserves, emerge.”

  Stone’s jaw dropped as the loose cloth covering of that wagon parted and a number of armed Hittite soldiers piled out. Some had spears, some had swords, and some had bows. There were three of each type of warrior. No wonder that “empty” wagon had seemed so solid!

  The bowmen struck first. Their arrows brought down three of the enemy soldiers, who had no chance to fight back at a distance. Then the spearmen and swordmen moved forward to engage the remaining Amorites, in disciplined formation.

  The Amorites still outnumbered the Hittites. They lined up, about to charge, so as to get into fighting range before more arrows brought them down.

  The chariot moved. It sliced toward the unprotected Amorite flank.

  The remaining enemy soldiers fled.

  The chariot halted again. It hadn’t actually engaged, this time; the mere threat had destroyed the enemy will to fight. “Now—” the officer said, turning to the villagers.

  The men threw away their clubs and resumed work. Soon the wagon was loaded.

  “Excellent,” the officer said, stifling a mock yawn. “Men, the town is yours.”

  The soldiers broke ranks, charging through the village and into the houses, seeking whatever plunder was to be had. This was how they were paid: after they had done their duty by terrorizing or killing the enemy, they were allowed to keep whatever they found. Stone had known the way of it, but never seen it in action in the field.

  “Meanwhile, let’s see what we have,” the officer said. The chariot moved over to join the wagon, where the woman sat with her head bowed and her dark hair across her face, her indication of shame. The villagers quickly moved away from the wagon, which perhaps was part of the officer’s purpose. He was not only inspecting the captive, he was guarding the goods while the soldiers were having their fun. He seemed casual, but his hand remained on his spear, and his eyes constantly quested through the area. Stone was coming to appreciate how uncareless the man was, despite his cavalier attitude. “Lift your head, girl; look at me. Tell me your name.”

  The woman did not respond. In that she resembled the headman. “Now, is that the way to treat your new master?” the officer inquired, smiling grimly. “Surely you do not wish to displease me.”

  “I will make her do it,” Stone said quickly. The woman reminded him of Seed, when he had first met her, and he wanted to prevent her from being hurt. He hung the shield on the chariot and jumped down to approach her.

  The officer shrugged nonchalantly, satisfied to have Stone’s active cooperation. “Cause her to show her face.”

  Stone stood before her. “He will beat you if you do not obey,” he murmured urgently in Amorite. “Please, humor him.”

  The woman lifted her head and shot him a glance through her falling tresses. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, as was her hair. Then she brushed back her hair and faced the officer. Her face was comely. “I am called Honey-from-Bees,” she said.

  “Cause her to show her body,” the officer said with seeming indifference.

  Honey hesitated. “Please, he will have them tear off your tunic and make you go naked,” Stone said. “It is better not to oppose him, so that he forgets about you for awhile.”

  She drew open her tunic, showing her breasts. They were small but well formed, and her body was pleasantly slender.

  “It’s good enough,” the officer said as if bored.

  Stone walked back to the chariot and resumed his place. Now he was glad he had been brought along, because he feared that the woman would have been brutally treated otherwise. Perhaps she still would be, but at least he had helped ease her transition to captivity.

  In due course the soldiers returned with their booty: jewelry, tools, cloth, and knives. No women; these must have fled when the trouble started. Stone was relieved.

  There was no longer room on the wagon for the soldiers, because the supplies took up the space. So the soldiers walked ahead, carrying their spoils and making sure there was no other opposition. Then came the wagon, with Honey as part of the supplies, and finally the chariot.

  But now the natives recovered enough to make some resistance. Stones were hurled from the cover of the forest.

  The chariot veered off the trail, charging first one side and then the other, but didn’t go quite far enough. The rocks kept coming. One crashed into the chariot; others passed overhead, making Stone reach nervously with his shield.

  “I wonder whether we should ride a bit faster, over rougher terrain,” the officer remarked musingly. “If it wouldn’t dent the wheels too much.”

  Stone knew he was being teased, but he appreciated the point. “Yes!” he agreed.

  The charioteer, responsive to signals Stone didn’t see or hear, caused the horses to jump forward. Suddenly they and the chariot were plunging faster and farther. The natives, surprised, tried to run out of the way, but several were caught. The officer knocked one on the head with his spear. Soon the rocks stopped flying.

  They returned to the main camp. “I have to see about the distribution of the supplies,” the officer said to Stone. “You have a fairly stationary occupation. Keep the girl safe with you until I return for her.” He handed Stone the end of the cord that tied her.

  “But—” Stone started, caught completely by surprise.

  The man smiled again. “If I don’t return, she is yours. That should be fair recompense for your effort.”

  Stone knew that it was useless to argue with this man. “I will try to keep her safe for you.”

  So it was that Honey-from-Bees was put in his charge. Stone took her with him as he resumed his inspection of chariots. “If I leave you in my wagon, someone else might take you,” he told her. “I can protect you only if you are close. I mean you no harm.”

  She nodded, understanding well enough. This was the heart of the enemy camp; she needed safekeeping.
/>   He completed his inspections and returned to his smith wagon. He fetched food from the mess wagon. It was no problem to get extra for Honey, because Stone knew the personnel, and was considered to be of officer status himself because of the value of his work. He explained that she was the officer’s captive and needed to be maintained in good condition. There was no argument.

  The officer did not come for her that day, evidently being busy elsewhere. Stone made a place for her in the wagon among the tools and gave her a blanket. But there was an awkwardness. “I do not wish to keep you tied, but if you run away, I will be to blame, and when they catch you they will kill you, and probably also your father. Do you understand?”

  “I will not run,” she said listlessly.

  “I will take you to the latrine trench,” he said. “I will turn my back. You have promised not to run.”

  “I have promised,” she agreed.

  When he turned his back he half feared that she would pick up a rock and strike him, so as to make a break. But she did not, perhaps understanding the futility of it. Then he took her back to the wagon, where she climbed into her place and disappeared under her blanket.

  Stone made himself another place and buried himself under another blanket. He thought of Seed, still so lovely at the age of twenty-three, eight or ten years older than Honey, and wished he were home with her. Had it been like this for Seed, before Blaze bought her for Stone?

  Next day as the army prepared to resume travel, Stone spied the officer. “I have Honey,” he said. “You did not return for her.”

  “She is more secure with you,” the officer said indifferently. “If there is a problem, mention my name.”

  Stone was inclined to agree: the woman was better off in the wagon of a noncombatant than with a chariot officer. Soon enough the battle with the Egyptians would occur, and then no one could be sure what would happen.

  They proceeded to the fortified Hittite client town of Kadesh, but did not enter it. The army stopped north of it, without making full entrenchments. They were by the River Orontes, so they could restock their water. But why didn’t they go ahead and enter the city, which was friendly and which they had come to defend? Stone, uncertain whether this was to be a pause or a camp, took Honey and went to the command wagon to inquire. He encountered the officer.

  “I think I have two matters to inquire about,” he said. “I need to know how long we will be here, so I can set up to inspect and repair chariots if that is in order. Otherwise I would prefer to set up in the city, where there will be superior facilities.”

  The officer gazed at him in a disquieting manner, seeming to be distracted. Then he spoke. “Yes, we shall be camping here,” he said loudly. “Make your preparations.” And in a much lower tone: “But do not dismantle any chariots, and remain ready to move on short notice.”

  “But—” Stone broke off, recognizing the man’s expression. Something was afoot, and what seemed nonsensical was likely to have a surprising point. The officer’s feigned indifference could hide extremely specific tactics. Just as the “empty” wagon had been loaded with soldiers, a trap for the unwary. “Yes, sir. And this woman, your captive—”

  “Is she causing you mischief?”

  “No, but—”

  “Watch her another day. It is not convenient for me at the moment. I will take her off your hands in due course.”

  Stone nodded, privately relieved. The officer might or might not treat Honey decently after he raped her. This gave her one more day as a person.

  He returned with her to his smith wagon. “Thank you for taking care of me,” Honey said.

  “I wish I could take you back to your village,” Stone muttered. “But you know I can not.”

  “I know you can not,” she agreed. “Why do you treat me so well?”

  “My wife is beautiful, as you are. She was a slave before I married her. She—had been used. You remind me of her in these respects. I wish I could protect you from what she suffered.”

  “I wish you could,” she agreed. “I will cause you no mischief.”

  Stone set up his wagon to give the appearance of activity, but did not set up his forge. Honey helped him. He realized that it might look as if he were instructing her, which could account for his failure to actually do solid work. He gave her some tools to carry and started on a routine inspection tour.

  “This is a ruse,” she murmured. “This time it is not my village, but the Egyptians who are being tricked.”

  “It must be,” he agreed. “But I don’t understand how it works.”

  “What kind of woman is your wife?”

  Stone laughed. “If I start to talk about her, I will talk a long time! She is everything to me, and I live for the hour I return to her.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Nine years. We have a six-year-old son. We were fourteen when we married.”

  “Oh, she was my age when you married!”

  “Yes.”

  She did not pursue the matter, but his thoughts did. It was as if he were seeing Seed again, with the vantage of his added years. Honey was not quite as pretty as his memory of Seed, but that might be because his youth and fancy had enhanced Seed beyond reality. Honey seemed too young for marriage, while Seed had seemed ideal. Perspective made the difference.

  Suddenly the order to move came. Stone and Honey, forewarned, hurried to the smith wagon and quickly packed it up for travel. The horses were brought in and hitched, and they joined the column moving out. Honey now sat up front with Stone, without being bound.

  But they did not travel south. Instead they turned east—directly into the river. The grumbling became loud: why were they fording the river, getting their things wet, when the city was right at hand?

  Soon the word spread: the Egyptians were rapidly approaching Kadesh from the south. In fact they were about to bypass it to the west, instead of attacking it. The Hittite army was moving swiftly to get out of the Egyptians’ way. What madness was this?

  “The madness of soldiers hidden in a wagon,” Honey said sadly. “The Egyptians would be ready to fight, if they knew how close the Hittites are.”

  “They seem to think we’re far to the north,” Stone said. “But why would they get that idea?”

  “Because of those two deserters we sent,” the officer said, passing on his horse. “They reported that our army is afraid to meet them on the field, so is retreating to the north. So the Egyptians are hurrying to intercept us before we can escape.”

  There was a shout of laughter, which even Honey joined. Afraid to meet the enemy in battle! Here was the most formidable Hittite army ever assembled, with contingents from a dozen vassal states ranging from Mitanni down—and it was afraid to fight? What fools the Egyptians must be, if they believed that.

  Stone now understood some of what had been keeping the officer busy. They had been setting up this trap for the enemy—and the enemy was marching right into it.

  In fact, as it turned out, the Egyptians were so eager to pursue the supposedly fleeing foe that they had divided their army into four divisions, with the Pharaoh in the lead one, Amon. The Hittite army remained unified, massing to the east of Kadesh as the Egyptians passed to the west. They kept the city between them, so that the Egyptians remained unaware.

  The Egyptian’s Amon division made camp north of the city, where the Hittite temporary camp had been. It seemed to be waiting for the other units, now strung out far behind, to catch up.

  Then the Hittites forded the river south of the city, this time going west. The chariots cut into the second Egyptian division, Re, and cut it apart. The Egyptians were caught completely by surprise. The remnants of Re fled to the north and south, pursued by the chariots.

  Meanwhile the rest of the Hittite army was fording the river. Stone brought his wagon across without difficulty; the river was shallow here, and the crossing place had been buttressed by extra sand scraped across.

  Immediately he had work to do. Sever
al chariots had suffered breakage in their wheels or axles, from the violent action. Stone readied his tools and approached the closest, which had a jammed wheel.

  Honey stifled a scream. The wheel was jammed by a battered human body. One leg had become wedged, and the rest was an almost unrecognizable mass of abraded meat.

  Stone took a long crowbar and wedged the leg out. He checked to be sure the wheel was free. “Go ahead,” he called to the driver, who hadn’t realized the exact nature of the problem.

  The other repairs were incidental. He pounded one wheel rim back into proper place, and replaced a wheel that had broken. Honey was getting good at locating the tools he needed quickly.

  Now the action was to the north. The chariots had pursued the Egyptian remnant to the large Amon camp. The Hittite phalanxes were pursuing and closing in. They outnumbered the Egyptians and were in good order, while the enemy was surprised and disorganized. They were trying to break camp and resume fighting order when the Re remnant charged through, interfering with their effort and throwing them into worse disarray. Only the Pharaoh’s formidable bodyguard troops stood their ground.

  Stone and Honey watched from the rear as the divisions of the Hittite army swarmed up to surround the Pharaoh’s unit. The remainder of both the Amon and Re divisions were driven off to the north. “It’s a rout!” Honey exclaimed, almost seeming to enjoy it.

  Stone looked south. In the distance the third Egyptian division was coming, but it was so far back that it was evident that the battle would be over before it arrived. “A victory, certainly,” he agreed.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the northwest.

  Stone looked. “Maybe another remnant of the Egyptians.” But he was in doubt.

  As the wagon forded the branch of the river that flowed from west of the city, one rider came back. It was the officer. “All well here?” he inquired.