The 22 Letters (22 page)

“What is it, then,” he asked. “Bad spirits?”

“Gods of Gebal!” gasped Ain. “It's the Egyptians! What'll we do?”

Zayin sprang to his feet. “Egyptians!” he exclaimed. “You saw them? You mean you two have been sitting here and the enemy's almost upon us!”

But he found that the spear of Ain was leveled at his own throat. “Don't give us none of that!” Ain was grating, still panting for breath. “You was sitting here, too, whoever you are. It's Egyptians all right—plain as anything in the moonlight. Now what are we going to do—that's what
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want to know?”

He's right, thought Zayin. He knocked the spear down with his hand. “Come on then, man, tell us what you've seen,” he said in a voice of authority. “How many of 'em? Advance guard? Main guard? Are they advancing or halted? How far off are they? Don't stand there, man, speak!”

The soldiers seemed to recognize the authority in his voice. They stood to attention and gasped out their report.

“Scouts—a handful of 'em—coming along the cliff ledge!”

“Another lot rounding the far point—saw their helmets in the moonlight.”

“Scouts'll be here any minute.”

“Just the old dog on the ledge—barking and growling at 'em—hold 'em up for a bit—before they do him in.”

“That dog will get a medal, or a monument!” muttered Zayin. “Right, who can run fastest?”

“Shin, he's younger,” said Ain.

“Move then! No noise mind! Straight to the camp commandant. Tell him to stand the troops to according to orders. No drums or trumpets! What are you waiting for then? Want to stay here and die?”

“No, but—”

“Well, man, what is it?”

“Whose orders shall I say?”

Zayin pulled a ring from his finger. “Take this! Tell him General Zayin sent the orders—and that the General and one private soldier are engaging the enemy until he brings reinforcements.”

Zayin heard another gasp from the soldier, this time of astonishment, and then the man moved swiftly off toward the camp. Zayin turned to his companion.

“Well, man, what are your duties when you sight the enemy?”

“I—I can't remember, sir.”

“I'll tell you then. This niche may make itself useful after all. The scouts will have to come round this point of rock one after the other. By the favor of the Gods, we know they're coming, and they don't know we're here—they didn't see you, did they?”

“No, sir, we took care of that.”

“Right. They must not see us. Keep close until they're past—then they must die without a sound. If their army's got any march discipline, the advance guard won't come on until the scouts signal all clear. That will hold them up for a bit. If not, we two will have to hold up the whole advance guard. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ain grimly. “I understand.”

The General and the private soldier drew back into the darkness of the rock. Zayin unsheathed his sword, Ain held his spear at the ready. They listened to the frantic barking of the dog. Then it stopped suddenly. The two men exchanged looks in the obscurity, as soldiers do on the battlefield when a casualty occurs. There was now no sound but the washing of the sea.

They waited. After an age, there was the clang of a shield against rock. They waited. The steady sound of footsteps on the stony track came to their ears, and then muttered words. Both men held their breath. One after the other, two figures appeared, outlined against the stars and the sea. One each! The Egyptians stood there, looking onward up the coast, their backs to the crevice that concealed Ain and Zayin. Zayin nudged Ain with his elbow, they moved together. Sword and spear found their marks, and the Egyptians fell without a cry. One sprawled on the track; the other pitched forward on to the rocks below, and his shield first clanged on the rocks, then splashed into the sea.

Silence returned. Zayin and Ain waited, as the enemy troops round the corner must have been waiting for the scouts who would never come back. The moon dipped below the horizon, but already a gray light was filtering over the black mass of the mountain wall. The night was nearly at an end. If the enemy was to attack in force, it would be at dawn. Zayin took off his helmet and handed it to the soldier, and clambered up to peep over the shoulder of rock. He must see what was happening. It was very shadowy under the cliff; shapes, that he knew must be rocks, seemed to move as he stared at them. Then a small sound caught his ear, and his eyes focused on a party of men advancing cautiously along the cliff ledge. He could not make out their number but it would be more than one each next time. He went back to his companion and held a whispered conference. Then they withdrew together, not this time into the niche in the rocks, but up a bank of loose rock and shale to the side of the track, at the top of which they flattened themselves against the cliff face.

The sounds of the approaching party became clearer, though they were moving with more caution than the first two scouts. They are wondering what happened to the scouts, thought Zayin; their nerves are on edge, they know something's wrong. Zayin kept a hand on Ain's arm as they watched the men round the corner, all the time looking carefully about them. Zayin had been right, a silent short-range attack would not have worked this time. One, two, three, four, five, and then a sixth was outlined against the phosphorescence of the sea, and the party stood, exchanging low whispers as they surveyed the next bay and the cliffs ahead.

Then Zayin moved, and so did Ain. Clashing their weapons and shields, kicking loose rocks ahead of them, whooping and hollering until the echoes aroused from the cliffs made them sound like a charging battalion. They hurtled down the slope. Two of the startled enemy stepped back into thin air and fell into the sea below without being touched. Zayin and Ain engaged a man apiece, shield to shield. Zayin gave his adversary a stab in the side, and by sheer weight bore him backward off the ledge; immediately he noticed that another had turned aside and stumbled over the first scout's body; this one he killed too, before the man could recover his feet. Then Zayin turned to Ain who was struggling with another Egyptian, and between them they soon disposed of him. They paused, breathing heavily, and looked around for more.

“There were six,” said Zayin.

“The other man must have run away,” panted Ain. “He will tell them we're here,” he added anxiously.

“Never mind,” said Zayin thoughtfully, “the time for secrecy and surprise is over. He will go back and tell the main guard that the pass is held by a strong force. There will be a breathing space before they attack again.”

Ain nodded, and then suddenly held his breath and listened. “Then what's that?” he demanded. To their ears came the tramp of deliberate marching feet, the sound of many soldiers and at no great distance. Zayin held his breath too, while his heart missed a beat. Surely they could not be pressing on the attack so soon! Then he heard a gasp of relief from Ain, who was pointing back up the coast. “They're ours, sir,” he said thankfully, and now in spite of the distortion of sound among the cliffs, Zayin realized that the marching feet were those of his own army approaching from the camp.

As the sky brightened over the ridge of the mountains, the Giblite army was drawn up for battle at the coastal pass that would be known for ever afterward as the Dog River, in honor of the unknown animal that had saved a nation. The plan of battle could hardly be simpler. The battlefront consisted of twelve men, for there was only room for twelve men to stand side by side on the part of the ledge they were defending. But then, too, there was room for only twelve Egyptians from the whole of Pharaoh's host to attack. The rest of the Giblite army stood to along the banks of the river. Just as the water of the river flowed continually to replenish the sea, so the columns were able to keep moving down its banks, to replace the twelve fighters in the forefront of the battle.

Zayin mounted a rock where he could be seen by as much of his strung-out army as possible. Standing beside him, Ain displayed the helmets and armor of the three available Egyptian victims. At that early hour and in that gray light, Zayin did not feel like giving an impassioned oration. At dawn, a few words are enough.

“You've been wondering what you're here for,” he cried, his voice echoing along the gorge. “Now you know. Your General and one of your comrades have already disposed of seven men between them. The rest will soon be here—and even if the odds are seven to two, what have we to fear? Our enemies are at the end of a long march in strange country. We are defending our homes and families. Stand firm—we have more to fight for than the enemy. I'm only sorry you can't all fight at once. Be patient though—I'll see that you all have your turns.”

They waited impatiently for the expected attack. The advance guard of Egyptians came round the corner of the cliff in a determined rush, met no resistance, and then saw the motionless line of armed men blocking the base of the cliff farther along the ledge. On Zayin's orders, his men remained quite silent. The Egyptians marched to within a javelin's throw of the Giblites, and a herald stepped forward and spoke:

“In the name of Pharaoh, let us pass! We will do you no harm if you lay down your arms and go home.”

An echo from the face of the cliffs threw back his last words: “Go home!” Zayin himself was awed, and knew that no other reply was needed. The Egyptians, seeing the towering cliffs and the silent soldiers of this unknown northern country, faltered. But it seemed that their orders had been to attack and test the defenses. They formed up on as broad a front as they could manage, twelve abreast on the rocky ledge, set their spears at the ready and their shields before them, and in silence, too, advanced at a steady pace to the attack.

Seldom has a battle been joined in such cold blood. Though each army had put its most hardened soldiers into the front rank, there seemed to be a moment when both sides hesitated to break the silence of dawn with the clash of arms. Then shields met shields, sword parried spear, and the first grunts, curses, and cries of anguish awoke the echoes of the gorge. There could only be one outcome of this first engagement. Men fell on both sides, but every empty space in the Giblite ranks was quickly filled. The Egyptians had no means of telling how great were the defenses, but they soon discovered that this was no mere handful of men masquerading as an army. At a word of command, the advance guard disengaged itself and retreated back along the ledge more quickly than they had advanced, but still with disciplined deliberation. A hail of javelins now helped them on their way. Leaving their wounded on the ledge, they fell back round the point to regroup and report to the main guard.

There were exclamations of jubilation among the Giblite troops, but Zayin quelled them. “The battle's not over yet—it's not even begun! Well done though, they've had a taste of our mettle!”

Another wait followed. The wounded in the front rank were replaced by fresh soldiers—many of the former protesting that they had hardly had a chance yet. But Zayin knew the next attack would be more determined.

When at last it came, it was obvious that the Egyptian commander had decided upon the maximum show of force. A broad column of marching men appeared round the corner and advanced in a compact mass along the ledge, uttering rhythmic war-chants and filling the air with the sound of their advance. It seemed that the mere pressure of bodies from behind must make them irresistible and that nothing human could stand in their way. But Zayin called above the noise, “Stand firm, Giblites. They can still only fight twelve at a time!”

Then he saw what must be done. Instead of presenting a square block across the path of the advancing army, he re-formed his troops so that they stood diagonally across the ledge. The head of the column met the ranks of the defenders. The Giblites kept formation and hacked savagely at the leaders of the column. There was now no attempt at silence and coolness; men were grappling at close quarters and sheer weight opposed sheer weight.

But the leaders of the column were stumbling upon heaps of dead and wounded, and were being crowded by their fellows behind them. Unable to go on or disengage themselves, and swollen by more files of soldiers urged on from behind, the column began to swell until it was a tight-packed mass of struggling men, unable to use their weapons. The wedge-shaped barrier of Giblites, combined with the pressure from the rear, forced the men at the head of the column outward from the cliff until they began to drop off the ledge into the sea by dozens, howling and cursing. Zayin himself, perched above the seething mass, felt sickened. This was no heroic battle—it was like sheep attacked in the fold by wolves. But it was war. He gave a signal to the parties of mountaineers halfway up the cliff above the ledge, and they began to loosen rocks and boulders so that they fell on the heads of the enemy below, some of them starting small landslides. The panic on the ledge became a rout. Soldiers near the front turned round and started using their weapons on their own troops, shouting to the officers in the rear to stop sending more men round the point. Men were dropping off all along the ledge, some dislodged by the falling rocks, some pushed off by their friends. The flow round the point ceased, then began to ebb backward. When the pressure was released, the battle at the head of the column became freer and more furious for a while, until the leaders became aware of the retreat behind them. Then they turned and fled, followed by more showers of javelins. The triumphant Giblites were about to pursue them, but Zayin shouted to them to keep their ranks. There was no advantage to be gained from chasing along the coast toward the main army.

What now? So far it was a victory for the Giblites. So few of them had been able to get at grips with the enemy that their casualties had been very low, while the ledge was strewn with dead and dying Egyptians, and many more bodies washed around in the sea below. And yet it was unlikely that the Egyptian general would let it go at that. The glory of Pharaoh was at stake. It was impossible that one small city-state could defy the might of Egypt for ever.