The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate

VII – The Valley of Thieves

The fertile plains of Samaria gave way to the mountains of Judaea. The road—a mere track, unsuited to wheeled traffic—wound among long, sweeping slopes patchily covered with coarse, prickly scrub. Great flocks of northbound birds, from swifts to storks and steppe eagles, flew overhead. As the sun sank over the dusty gray-green hills of Ephraim, Myron said:

"O Bessas, we shall never reach Jerusalem tonight."

Bessas grunted. "I knew not that the roads of Judaea wound and writhed like serpents in pain. Kothar, how much farther to Jerusalem? ... Kothar!"

The Syrian awoke with a start. "Your pardon, mortal; I was communing with a distant colleague. What said you?"

"How far to Jerusalem?"

"Perhaps six or seven leagues."

The road had risen from a wide valley along a winding ridge. Now it dipped again, this time into a narrow, steep-sided valley whose slopes were thick with dusty-looking olive trees. A large yellow fox with black-rimmed ears barked at the travelers and ran for cover, dodging from one thorny apple-of-Sodom bush to another. Myron said:

"In an hour it will too dim to find our way. The moon is dark and the roads are rough."

"We'll camp here, then," said Bessas. "Our friends have been sleeping in beds long enough. It is time that we learnt if they be boys or men, for there will be a plenty of camping in Kush."

"I have camped in the desert near Barbalissos," said Skhâ. "What would you that I did?"

"You shall unharness the beasts, whilst Kothar gets a fire going and Myron and I assemble the tent. That knave who sold it to us in Babylon said it was so simple a child could put it up, but it looks as complicated as the Great King's pavilion."

Bessas unloaded the mass of poles, ropes, and tightly woven camel's hair canvas from the mule that bore it, while Kothar struggled with flint and steel and tinder. Skhâ, removing horses' bits and pack saddles, chattered on:

"Once my great-uncle Mizai, fighting for the last King Psamatik of Egypt, camped in the Desert of Shos whilst scouting the Persian bourn at the start of the war with Cambyses. The scouts were Arabs on camels, but the Karian battalion were sent to keep an eye on the Arabs lest they change sides or fade away into the desert without the king's knowledge.

"Around the campfire, the Arabs told tales of their national spirits and demons. So Mizai was not much astonished when, during his watch, he found before him a woman of strange and unearthly beauty. She was tall and slender, with long black hair and skin that shone white in the moonlight. The desert breeze fluttered a gown as sheer as cobwebs.

" 'Good evening, madam,' said Mizai.

" 'Hail, mortal,' said she. 'Know that I am Lailat, the spirit of the waste.'

" 'Forsooth?' said my great-uncle. 'Know that I am Mizai son of Avetho, a Karian. What would you?'

" 'I seek a new lover,' said she. 'For days I have watched this encampment in my other form, and you are the man I have chosen.'

" 'Well now,' said Mizai, 'that is most kind of you. Was that big owlish bird, which has been flapping about, you?'

" 'Aye. Now you shall come with me to the ruins of Balad al-Jann. There we shall revel amongst the tombs, served by my horde of lesser demons—'

" 'Excuse me, madam,' said Mizai, for he had heard many tales of men who went off into the sea to live with mermaids, or into the woods to live with nymphs, and somehow these tales always ended badly. 'What befell your last lover?'

" 'Oh, that is no matter. His powers began to fail, so I turned him into a scorpion. But think not to escape me! Your comrades are sunk in enchanted slumber; they will not aid—'

" 'That was not what I had in mind, my lady,' said Mizai. 'I did but think it behooved us to make trial of each other or ever we set up housekeeping in your City of Spirits. I could not bear to have you disappointed after you had gone to so much trouble; and, moreover, I doubt I should make a good scorpion.'

"Lailat agreed to Mizai's proposal. Now, my greatuncle may not have been wise, strong, or brave beyond the wont of most men, but in one regard he surpassed all mortals. And so it happened that presently Lailat sighed and said: 'My dear Mizai, you are perfect. I foresee a long and happy companionship—'

" 'Oh, but the trial has only begun,' quoth Mizai. 'Wait but an ush or two and you shall see.'

"So more time passed, and Lailat said: 'O Mizai, you are a lover beyond my wildest hopes. Let us forth—'

"But my great-uncle only replied as before: 'The test is by no means completed. Bide a few ush in patience." And when more time had passed, Lailat said: 'Truly, now we must go; for even in love there can be too much of a good thing.'

"But my great-uncle only answered as before. And when she became insistent, so did he. The dispute waxed warm, and of a sudden Mizai felt his face buffeted by mighty wings and his shoulder gashed by a sharp talon; for he held in his arms a great gray eagle-owl, which struggled to escape. He tossed the bird into the air, watched it flap away over the moonlit waste, and returned to the camp, laughing like one bereft of his senses."

Bessas' laugh rumbled. "A capital tale, boy; but now help to gather sticks for the fire."

Myron and Bessas solved the problem of the tent, but Bessas tugged too hard on the ropes on his side and pulled out the pegs on Myron's side. The structure collapsed. Skhâ snickered.

"You don't know your own strength, Bessas," said Myron mildly.

"Better to have it fall down now than later, when we're sleeping in it," said Bessas.

At last the tent was up. As he staked out the horses and mules in patches of grass, Myron reviewed in his mind the travels of recent days.

From Athar the four had ridden down the Phoenician coast, past the great precipitous promontory called Penuel, the Face of God; past Gubla with its warehouses full of papyrus from Egypt, awaiting transshipment to all parts of the Inner Sea; past Dog River with its guardian stone wolf and its inscriptions of ancient invading kings. They had seen the flowers and grottoes of Beroth under the towering snowcapped mass of Mount Libanos.

At Beroth they witnessed a sacrifice to the local Baal. The purple veil of the temple was drawn aside, revealing a huge squat bronzen statue of the god, horned and winged and gleaming with unguents. A fire crackled in Baal's potbelly.

Six matrons of the city's leading families stepped proudly forward to hand their first-born sons—children less than a year old, swaddled and bound—to shaven, skull-capped priests in gauzy purple robes. The priests paraded up the steps to the platform beside the god's outstretched hands and placed the children on these hands of hot metal. The screaming victims flopped like fish, rolled down the slope of the divine forearms, and fell through the gap between the god's elbows into the fire below. The twang of the harp, the clang of the sistrum, and the swelling sound of the hymn half drowned their shrieks; the stench of burning flesh mingled with the heavy odors of perfume and incense. Priests and priestesses, with their skirts hiked up to their waists and their eyelids painted green, pranced in the measures of a sacred dance.

When Myron and Bessas expressed their horror, Kothar snapped: "Hold your tongues, mortals, if you would not be torn to pieces! These folk take their religion to heart and will suffer no gibes from unclean out-landers."

After Beroth, they had passed through Sidon with its crowded, bustling harbor behind a meager breakwater, where fishermen's nets, dying in the sun, stretched from house to house like gigantic cobwebs. They paused at Old Tyre with its stinking dye works, filling the narrow streets with their reek, while New Tyre frowned across the water at them from its fortified island.

Myron had fraternized in the taverns with many Phoenician men of business. These were portly, full-bearded, hook-nosed men in robes and conical caps. Golden rings gleamed on their fingers and in their ears, and the dwarfish images of the Pataecian gods, in gold and crystal, hung round their necks.

The Punic merchants were men of a breed quite different from an adventurous pedant like Myron, or a bluff and brutal warrior like Bessas, or a mystical seer like Kothar. Despite a certain somber austerity of manner, they were often affable and sometimes even kindly, but in an abstracted way, because all the time they were really thinking of trade and profits ...

"Should you learn the shape of the earth, Master Myron, how would that affect our trade routes in the Western Ocean? Could our ships range on forever without fear of falling over the edge?"

"Aye, Master Myron, your servant has heard of your Greek Iliad. Can you purpose a plan whereby we could have it copied and sold at a profit?"

"The land of Kush? We know little of it here. But I will make it worth your while, friend Myron, to submit a confidential report on the openings in that land for imports and exports ..."

Yet these Phoenicians were no weaklings. They would fight like fiends in defense of their cities and their trade routes. They would defy stormy seas, man-eating savages, and strange gods in their eagerness to open up new lands to trade. But they looked upon Bessas' Aryan notions of honor as childish. Insult or rail at one and, instead of losing his temper in turn, he would merely say, well, do you wish to make a deal or do you not?

At length Myron wearied of their implacable commercialism. He was glad to reach Akko, the southernmost large Phoenician city.

In Akko the commander of the Persian garrison, to whom they applied for fodder, had warned them of a plague at Yapho, farther down the coast. They therefore turned inland, leaving behind them the white beaches around the mouth of the Belos, where men shoveled the gleaming sand into sacks to sell to the glassmakers. In Shechem, a Samaritan with his face tattooed blue had told them of a valley of ill fame ...

"Bessas!" exclaimed Myron. "This must be that Valley of Thieves whereof the man in Shechem warned us. He said that we should traverse it just before we reached Eshkol, and that it has an evil repute."

"Vaush! 'Twill prove the boys' mettle as well as their camping skill. We'll keep a double watch; the tent is small for three anyway."

"You mean, it's small for four. You occupy the room of two."

"I should say, it were small for two: one normal man like me and two half-sized Pygmies like you." Bessas continued:

"There is yet enough light for a few flights of arrows; so hang up the butt, Skhâ—on that tree yonder, so that shafts that miss shall strike the hillside and easily be found again."

Myron and Skhâ groaned, but Bessas was inexorable. "Worms breed in soft flesh. Besides, this is my revenge for your making me learn to swim in that accursed cold Serpentine."

"You have already had your revenge, old boy," said Myron, "by nearly drowning me when you caught me round the neck. I thought the grandfather of all octopodes had me in its tentacles."

"You, too, Kothar," said Bessas. "I care not if you be the greatest wizard unburnt. It is well to have a sharp shaft to fall back on, in case your spells get wet."

"Not him!" said Skhâ. "If he shoots one arrow, I shall wrap myself in horse cloths and hide in the tent. Else there were no safety in any direction ..."

In the narrow valley the sun had already set, and darkness soon ended the archery. The travelers took down the straw-stuffed bag that had served that as a target and gathered up stray arrows from the earth of the slope beyond.

As they ate their Spartan supper of bread, cheese, dried beef, onions, and cheap local wine, the scrub and the olive groves wakened to nocturnal life. Insects chirped and buzzed; bats whirred; jackals yelped; serpents hissed; lizards rustled; and a large white owl uttered curious panting sounds from a nearby tree. The howl of a wolf came faintly from the heights of Mount Ephraim, to be answered by the eerie laugh of a hyena. Myron wished for the hundredth time that he could tarry long enough to investigate every natural phenomenon and write notes about it, to be used some day in a great all-embracing explanation of the universe.

"Kothar," said Bessas with his mouth full, "that blue-faced lad in Shechem said that this valley is notorious as a haunt of robbers, whence the name. What says your magic about our chances of getting through unscathed?"

"My familiars report no perils imminent, though many distant," said the Syrian. "It is as if we were sheep in a fold, and wolves did sniff about the walls of the fold but had not yet found entrance. For a deeper study I should need more time and gear, or else the True Anthrax."

"What is that?"

"A fabled red gem, of the ruby kind, which darkens whenever danger threatens its owner."

"Hmm. I see how such a bauble might be useful, though one could hardly take time in the midst of a battle to haul out the gem to see."

Myron said: "One might have it mounted in an armlet, so that one could snatch a quick look from time to time."

"And whilst the warrior gazes into the mystic depths of this marvelous gem—whisht!—off goes his head." Bessas laughed like distant thunder. "What are the other properties of gems?"

Kothar told of the diamond, which confers fortitude and makes the wearer proof against spells and spirits; of the sapphire, which strengthens the sight; of the emerald, which gives foreknowledge of the future; of the topaz, which conveys calm courage; of the green jasper, which strengthens the bowels; of the amethyst, which averts drunkenness ...

Kothar stopped, raising his head to listen. "A mortal draws nigh," he said.

A scrambling noise was followed by sounds of running and heavy breathing. A man burst out of a patch of scrub. While the others sat and stared, Bessas stuffed the rest of his loaf in his mouth, rose, and drew his sword, all in one smooth blur of motion.

The newcomer was young, wearing a knee-length black tunic and a round felt cap of the Phoenician type. His clothes were torn and stained. He was tall and well-built, with a jutting nose, a receding forehead and chin, and prominent eyes.

"S-s-save me!" he gasped.

"From what?" mumbled Bessas, spraying crumbs.

The man clutched Bessas' forearm and tried to speak but failed at first for want of breath. At last he said: "The S-Scribes of Jerusalem are after me. They will slay me if they catch me."

"Why should they do that?"

"Because I slew one of their men."

"Why?"

"They captured me when I—when I entered the city this morning on an errand for my temple—but here they come. It is a long—ah—story, which I will tell you later. But hide me now, in the name of the, blessed gods! I can run no farther."

"Wrap him up," said Bessas.

Sounds of movement came from the southern end of the valley, and the tethered mules and horses stirred uneasily. Myron and Skhâ wound the fugitive in cloaks and horse cloths, tied him up, and laid him on the ground near the campfire as if he were but one more bundle of gear.

A man on an ass rode into view. Behind him came several others afoot. More men emerged from the olive groves at the sides of the valley. The mounted man was plump, snub-nosed, and well-dressed in the Judaean fashion, wearing a tall hat wound with a low turban in Syrian style. The rest were a rough-looking lot, girt with long knives. Several carried spears or bows. Strips of cloth knotted around their heads kept their long unkempt hair in place.

"Get your bows ready, boys," said Bessas, slinging his bow case over his shoulder and picking up his buckler. He faced the mounted man as the latter pulled up. "Peace!" he said.

"Peace be with you," said the newcomer. "Have you seen a fugitive? A man about six feet in height, in a black tunic, with a shaven face?"

"Nay; not here."

"If he be not here, you will not mind our searching your tent and gear to make sure that he be not hidden."

Bessas' voice rumbled like a distant storm. "On the contrary, I should very much mind. Who are you?"

"I am Ira ben-Shaul, a Scribe. We seek Shimri ben-Hanun of Gaza, a murderer and idolater."

"Well, I am Bessas of Zariaspa, a Bactrian nobleman, and I let nobody search my gear. So seek your idol fancier elsewhere. Who licensed you to hunt men through the countryside?"

Ira's eyes seemed to blaze in the twilight. "The Lord God of Israel, the only true god, authorizes us! We know the man is around here somewhere. We traced him to Eshkol and have searched the land on both sides of this vale. Stand aside, or it will go hard with you."

"Nock your shafts," said Bessas over his shoulder. His sword hissed out of its scabbard. "Know, pig face, that I am on a mission of the King of All Kings, and any man hinders me at his peril. Whoever touches me, or my men, or my gear, will greet his forebears in the Judaean hell!"

The Scribe drew in his breath sharply. There was a concerted movement as his men—now swollen to more than a score—closed in around him and edged forward, gripping their weapons.

Myron, standing with an arrow nocked, felt his heart pounding painfully. If the Judaeans rushed them, Bessas, with his superhuman size and strength, might cut his way out, leap to the back of a horse, and escape. But the rest were surely doomed. Even with bucklers and leathern corselets, he and Skhâ could hardly defeat such a force by themselves. They had no redoubt like the Tower of the Snail to make up for the difference in numbers. The best they could hope for would be to take a few of their enemies with them to the land of the shades.

Kothar had not even armed himself. The Syrian sat calmly on the bundle containing the fugitive. Now he spoke in his curious low voice, whose vibrancy carried his words as far as most men's shouts.

However, instead of using Aramaic, the common speech of the Empire, Kothar spoke in the Hebrew dialect of the Canaanitish tongue. As Kothar talked, Myron saw the eyes of the Judaeans widen, so that their whites gleamed in the firelight. The ruffianly men edged back. Even Ira the Scribe pulled on his bridle, so that the ass backed away from Bessas.

At last Ira spoke a curt sentence and rode off on the road to northward, followed by his men.

Bessas turned on Kothar with a puzzled frown. "What said you?"

Kothar gave a rare smile. "First, I told them that a man had passed us on horseback, riding hard, an hour ago, and that this was perhaps he whom they sought. Then I told them that you were a leper."

"Me a leper? By Mithra—"

"Why, yes. I said that you had come down with the dread disease and, all else having failed, were on your way to Jerusalem to pray to Yahveh for a cure. It seemed reasonable enough to them."

Bessas rocked back on his heels with a roar of laughter. Kothar said: "Not so loud, or they will hear you and know they have been tricked'"

Bessas moderated his mirth, though for some minutes he kept bursting into rumbles and sputters. "At last Master Kothar has shown his worth! I could never carry off such a deception, for we are drilled as children in the virtue of truthfulness. But at times even truthfulness can be too much of a good thing."

Myron: "Had we not better unwrap Master Shimri, before he suffocates?"

"Not so fast," said Bessas. "They might wait out of earshot and then rush back to surprise us, thinking that we had done just what we have done. Are you all right, O Shimri?"

A mumble came from the roll of cloths. Bessas told Skhâ to bridle his pony and sent him along the road to scout. The Karian reported back that the Judaeans were indeed on their way north, moving swiftly. So they untied Shimri ben-Hanun.

"Now," said Bessas, "let us have your story. It had better be good, or we'll tie you up again and take you to Jerusalem to give to these Scribes. I acted on impulse in giving you shelter, and having done so I could not betray you; but he who meddles in strife that concerns him not is like one who seizes a wolf by the ears. Speak, man."

Shimri's face worked, and presently he began to speak. Myron perceived that the youth had a disagreeable voice: loud and high-pitched, with a slight stammer. He sprayed spittle as he spoke, while thrusting his head close to his hearer and waving his forefinger under the victim's nose.

"Know, Lord Bessas," he said, "that—that in former times—ah—many peoples dwelt in Judaea: Philistines,

Israelites, Moabites, Edomites, Midianites, Ammonites, and others. And each had its own gods, and if a man liked not the gods of his fathers, he could worship those of a neighboring people, and none gainsaid him.

"And later we all came to be called Judaeans and to speak the same speech. Your servant, for example, is descended from the Philistines. And then the king of Babylon conquered the land and carried off thousands of our folk to Babylonia. But still in Judaea, every man worshiped what gods he saw fit.

"But—ah—when the Persians overthrew the kingdom of Babylonia, the exiled Judaeans began to return to Judaea. During their exile, the priests of Yahveh, the storm god, had attained to power amongst them.

"And now—ah—now the returned exiles have become powerful in Judaea. And many of these men say that Yahveh is the only god, all others being mere lumps of wood or stone. Calling the old cults false, they say that these must be destroyed and all Judaeans compelled to worship Yahveh. This would, of course, greatly profit these godless priests of Yahveh."

Bessas said: "I understand, because we Aryans have had like troubles with the so-called reformed religion of Zoroaster. Go on."

"The priests of Yahveh do not attack the other religions openly. Instead they employ fanatical laymen called Scribes to do their dirty work. While the Scribes claim to be learned students of Yahvistic law, it is they who lead mobs to the destruction of the temples and the murder of the leaders of other religions. They have made it almost as much as a man's life is worth, if he be a follower of another god, to enter Jerusalem.

"Now, your slave adores the great god of Gaza. This is Mama Maiuma—the Lord of the Waters—the mighty and kindly and bountiful Dagon. And I also worship Dagon's divine spouse Ashtoreth."

"Another name for Ishtar," murmured Myron. "I must make a note."

Shimri continued: "Although your servant is a smith by trade, I am active in the affairs of my temple, being a member of the Board of Sacrificers. Now—now we have—or had—a congregation of Dagon-worshipers in Jerusalem. But the Yahvists have destroyed the poor little temple of these folk and have driven them into hiding by cruel persecution. When no word of our co-religionists in Jerusalem had reached Gaza for a year, the high priest sent me to Jerusalem, to seek out our people and see how they fared. I was also given silver for them, in case they were hard pressed.

"B-but some spy must have warned the Yahvists. For no sooner had I entered Jerusalem by the Valley Gate than a band of Yahvists, under this same Ira ben-Shaul, seized me. They took my ass and money and dragged me across the city towards Mount Sion, where the Yahvist temple once stood and where the Yahvists still have their headquarters.

"Ah—now, I knew that once these knaves got me within walls, I were a dead man. So, as they marched me along the Valley of Cheesemongers, I snatched a dagger from one of my captors, stabbed him, and fled out the Fish Gate. And I have been on the run ever since. Luckily for me, the Yahvists had no horses ready to hand. I should have gotten away, but hunger forced me to stop in Eshkol to beg a loaf, and thus the Yahvists picked up my trail. And now again I am famished—famished! Could you gentlemen spare a few bites?"

Watching Shimri wolf down a meal that would have done credit to a lion, Bessas said: "Your tale satisfies me. But now that we have you, what shall we do with you?"

"Whither are you bound, my masters?"

"To Egypt."

"What is your purpose?"

Bessas told briefly of his plans.

"Well," said Shimri, "ah—could—could you not use another man? I am a good man of my hands; I can wield a weapon or repair broken metalwork. I cannot tarry in Judaea; for, now that I have shed the blood of a Yahvist, they will hunt me down, even in Gaza."

"Grip my hand," said Bessas. "Now squeeze."

This time Bessas had to put forth nearly all his vast strength to force Shimri to own himself beaten. As they unclasped and wrung their hands, Bessas said:

"Smithing has given you a fine grip. Can you shoot?"

"I am the champion archer of the civic guard of Gaza."

"Very well, we'll give you a chance to prove it when the sun rises. Know, besides, that I expect those of my company to obey my commands without pause or cavil. If they do not, I saw them in two as the wicked Spityura did his brother King Yima!"

"I understand."

"Very well. When we get to Jerusalem—"

"Oyah! Ask me not to go back to—to Jerusalem! Not when I have only now escaped! By Dagon's scaly tail, you might as well cut off my head with that great long sword and have done with me. But there is no reason why you should—ah—go through Jerusalem anyway. The town has little for sale save wool.

"Now Gaza, being a caravan center, has splendid marts. We can also get to Gaza in time for the spring festival, which I feared I should miss. You will like it." Shimri burst into a loud, braying laugh. "Is there anything more to eat? I still hunger."