Shame of Man (27 page)

The cattle charged down the street, throwing off all restraints. It was as if
they had realized that this was their place of doom. Where were the guards? Crystal still couldn't see any. There were only the herdsmen, running along beside the cattle, screaming imprecations, unable to turn them back.

Then she had to scramble for her own safety as the lead bull veered toward her. She got behind the trunk of a tree and saw the beast charge by, followed by the others. She heard the screams of townspeople as they realized that the animals were out of control.

Worse, this represented a breakdown of order. Immediately the criminals were appearing, using the distraction to rob unnerved people and break into houses to steal their valuables. It was a sad commentary on society that the moment there was any disturbance or confusion, the robbers and looters appeared. They were mostly Canaanites, she knew, claiming that they deserved anything they could get from the privileged conquerors. Yet the conquest had been 200 years ago; it was no longer an issue. It disgusted Crystal to see depravity in her own people.

Now fires were starting in the city, and she knew the cattle weren't setting them. What a disaster had been set off by the chance spooking of a cow! One fire was fairly close; it must be one of the villas. Naturally they were among the first targets of the criminals. They robbed, killed, and burned to cover their traces.

Fairly close? Crystal felt an ugly chill. Her employers’ house was in that direction. Could it be?

Hoping it was not, but fearing that it was, she ran in the tracks of the stampeding cattle, looking for Huuo's house. Of course it would be a terrible thing for any house, but especially for that one. Her premonition . . .

She got a stitch in her side from running, and had to slow down, catching her breath. But she was already close enough to see that it was one of those houses. Dread surged; the closer she got, the more certain it was that it was Huuo's villa. She blinked her eyes, trying to make it some other house, but the terrible vision would not be shifted.

At last she stood by the blaze. It
was
her employer's house—hopelessly burning. Even if the fire crew arrived soon, it would be too late; the fire was too fierce. The looters must have torched it in several places, to make it burn like this.

Others joined her, confirming the worst. “Hill folk!” they cried. “They came through after the cattle. We came out to try to fight them off, but they had already pillaged this house, and they saw us and ran on toward the city gate.”

“But what of Annai? The children?” Crystal asked. “They were home today; I know it. I was going to go there after I made my purchase.”

A Philistine neighbor spoke. “They were there,” she said grimly, “for I consulted with Annai within the hour.” Her mouth grew tight.

“Then where are they now?” Crystal demanded, almost forgetting her
subservient place before the Philistine woman. “Did they go before the trouble started? This will be a terrible thing for them to find on their return!”

“Annai was schooling the children in protocol,” the woman said. “They were not going anywhere.”

“But—” Suddenly Crystal's terrible premonition surged forth, almost overwhelming her. “They can't be in—”

The Philistine woman abruptly turned and walked rapidly toward her own house, her shoulders shaking. She did not care to show grief in front of people beyond her own household. Her Canaanite servant shook her head sadly.

“No!” Crystal cried. “They wouldn't stay in there!”

“Not if they lived,” the servant woman said.

Crystal paused for a moment of utter horror. Then she leaped for the burning house. But two women intercepted her and hauled her back. They had evidently anticipated her reaction. “You can't help them,” one said. “The hill brigands must have killed them first.”

“And set the fire to hide the crime,” the other said. “But we came out before they got away, so we know the crime. We saw them hauling rolled rugs of valuables. If we had had men to pursue them—”

“It can't be! It can't be!” Crystal screamed. But she saw the blaze, and knew the neighbors and servants weren't lying. They all knew and liked Annai and her children. None of them were as close to the family as Crystal, so they were more objective about it, but they were clearly appalled.

When they were sure that Crystal wouldn't charge the fire again, they let her go. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing. “I should have been there! At least to save the children—”

She must have stayed there for a time, for she saw that the fire had burned down, leaving only the stone ruin and mounds of smoking ashes. She was alone with her grief.

The hill folk had entered the villa, killed the people there, stolen whatever they could carry wrapped in the good rugs, torched the house, and run away. A crime of opportunity. The victims could have been anyone. And suddenly Crystal's employer and best friend was brutally gone. Others would soon forget the matter, for these things happened. But how could Crystal ever forget?

She picked herself up and trudged wearily toward home, her mission of the day forgotten. All she could think of at the moment was a meeting she knew would come: with Huuo. What could she say to him, when he returned from his tour and learned of this?

The circuit of the festival was done. The troupe had returned to the city of Gaza and now was dispersing after a final banquet. Huuo knew he had put
on weight from all the excellent eating. It had been a good celebration; he knew that all five cities were well satisfied. Now he was glad to be on his way home, his purse heavy with payment. Annai would be pleased.

When he boarded the ship at dawn, there was a surprise: it turned out to be the same one he had traveled on before. It was on its return trip from Egypt. Captain Ittai greeted him warmly. “Scuttlebutt has it that you charmed them all,” he said. “And won the heart of the loveliest dancer.”

“Perhaps I charmed them, with the help of all the other musicians,” Huuo agreed. “But I did not touch the dancer.”

“Come now, your secret's safe with me. With the license of the festival, and a creature all women envy choosing you, you surely must have been man rather than fool.”

“I surely was the fool,” Huuo said. “Perhaps I simply could not believe that her passion was true.” He lifted his left hand significantly.

Ittai nodded. “Put that way, I comprehend your doubt. But what point would there have been in her insincerity?”

“None I can think of,” Huuo admitted. “That does bother me. So let's just say that I love my wife beyond all else.”

“I think you are a man I would like to know better,” the captain said. “Perhaps we shall meet again, next year.” He moved on.

The wind was good, and the ship made scheduled progress under sail. At noon they reached the port of Ascalon and put in for spot trading. And another Philistine boarded. A woman.

Intrigued by this unusual appearance, Huuo stood to greet her. She lifted back her traveling hood and smiled. “Why, it's the musician Huuo! I never thought to see you here.”

“The dancer Scylla,” he said, similarly surprised. “I did not know you were traveling?”

“Well, not by preference,” she explained. “But it seems my family has inherited a house in Mor, which we can't use, so I must go there to arrange for its disposition. At least that will leave us in a good economic situation.”

“I did not see you at the festival.” He was being polite, though she was an associate rather than a friend. He had encountered her during various events, and she was an excellent dancer with a fine body. But she had a brother who was of dubious repute, and she herself—well, he was not one to credit rumors. He was nevertheless somewhat wary of her, perhaps because she was a beautiful woman who had on occasion hinted by her manner that she found him an interesting man. He had just been through that with Leda, and didn't care for more.

“I wasn't there. It seems that one of the serens objected to me. In any event, I couldn't have danced, because of my injury.” She lifted her right hand, which was heavily bandaged.

“What happened?” There wasn't much to do except talk with her, as they were the only two Philistine passengers on the ship, and the passenger
section was small. So they sat half facing each other by his cubby. And he had to admit that she was good enough company; maybe he had misjudged her.

“An accident during a dance. I took a tumble, and put out my hand to break my fall, foolishly. There was something sharp there.” She shrugged. “It will heal, eventually. Meanwhile I am having to learn how to use my left hand. Have you any idea how awkward that is?”

“You forget that I am left-handed.”

Her eyes rounded. “Oh! My apology. I didn't mean—I never thought—I meant no offense.” She colored, looking flustered.

“No offense taken,” he said quickly. “I make no issue of it anyway. At the festival I used the double flute, which diminishes my apparent difference.”

“You are kind. I did know you were—I simply forgot, being absorbed with my own state. Yet perhaps our meeting is fortunate for me, because you could help me adapt, if you have the patience.” She smiled, looking very pretty as her flush faded.

“I shall be glad to help in any way I can,” he said. “It's no imposition. We have several hours of boredom before us anyway. What problem do you have?”

“Everything!” she exclaimed. “The most trifling, simple things become so infernally clumsy. Things I have always known how to do, suddenly I can't do without botching them. I've been spilling wine and—and I can't even tie my sash.” She indicated her trim midriff.

Indeed, her sash was loosely knotted, and sagged. This was not a disaster, as it served mainly to enhance the contrast to her clothing, which sagged nowhere, but it was surely an annoyance to her. “If you will permit me—” he said, extending his hands.

“No, don't do it for me,” she said quickly. “Show me how to do it myself.”

“Well, it isn't just the change of hands,” he explained. “It's that you normally use two, and now have only one. Naturally it's difficult.”

“Oh, yes, that's true. Still—”

“So let me tie it for you. There are other things that may be done single-handed.” He took hold of her sash, untied it, then retied it properly so that it was snug without being tight. In the process he was reminded that her body was in fine form. She was a dancer, of course, so her torso and limbs were slender and lithe. But there were differences in dancers, and hers was about as good a body as he had seen on any woman other than his wife.

“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling with a somewhat endearing human relief. His prior mistrust of her dissipated; she was a nice woman, now that he was interacting with her. She wasn't coming on to him the way Leda had, but was just being sociable.

Now he saw that her hair was sloppily braided. She had concealed it
under the hood, but in the heat of the day she threw that back, and her fair hair fairly sparkled in the sunlight. But the braids were bad. So he redid those too, with her acquiescence; that was another thing that normally required two hands. Her tresses were almost silken in their length and lightness, and quite clean.

They spent the duration of the sailing reviewing and rehearsing the left-handed way of doing things. It was clear that Scylla would have to practice a good deal before becoming apt, by which time her right hand might heal, making it all for little. But she was trying hard, and making good progress. She was also extremely appreciative of his assistance.

When the ship came into the port of Mor they were surprised to see another female passenger waiting on the pier to board. No, it was a Canaanite—in fact he knew her. It was his servant Crystalech. Probably Annai had sent her to intercept him; perhaps there was something he was supposed to bring home.

But as the ship docked and he and Scylla walked the plank to the pier, he saw that Crystal's mien was serious, almost gloomy. “What is it, Crystal?” he inquired as he reached her. “Is something wrong?”

“Master, your house is burnt,” the Canaanite said.

He was taken aback. “My house—there was a fire? Then where is my family?”

The woman's mouth opened three times before she got the words out. “They are—gone. Raiders—a stampede—looters—they come through and your house was on their route to the gate—”

Huuo felt an ugly chill. “What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”

Crystal rolled her eyes heavenward. “Gone—to the gods. Master, I had to tell you, before you got there yourself. The brigand hill folk—”

“To the gods?” he asked, stunned. “Do you mean they are—” He could not say it.

The woman nodded grimly, tears flowing. “I saw the fire. No one came out from it. The hill folk—to hide their crime—they were gone before they could be stopped.”

“Annai—the children—?”

“Master, they are dead,” Crystal said, finally speaking the dread word.

Huuo would have doubted it from any other source, but he had known Crystal for years, and trusted her. Her daughter Desert Flower was almost like his own daughter Minah. Crystal would never knowingly deceive him. She was the city's most loyal servant, because she was also friend.

He found himself holding her, sharing her tears, not caring what others thought of a Philistine embracing a Canaanite in public. He had been so eager to get home to his family, and suddenly it had been destroyed.

Then he saw through his bleary vision the other woman standing near. Some numb semblance of propriety returned. “I apologize for this scene,” he said as they walked along the pier to the land.

“By no means,” Scylla said. “How could you have known? But perhaps I can help.”

“No, it is no concern of yours. Go and forget this unpleasantness.” But his ear heard his mouth, and was appalled at this seeming dismissal of the disaster of his life as “unpleasantness.” His formal self was honoring the rules of protocol, while his inner self was struggling to come to terms with what could not be accepted. An observer might have supposed that he did not really care about his family; instead he cared so much that he could not express it, and could let only part of the grief out.