Them Bones

Leake X

I never saw so much stuff traded in my life. Skins, furs, food, shells, art and pipes went into the ship, and out came beads, knives, tools, cloth, copper, and brass.

I helped as much as I could, going from one haggle to another. There seemed to be no set price for anything on either side. I kept busy, and watched the interaction of the merchants and the people of the village.

The Northerners spoke Greek as badly accented as my own. The turbaned merchants spoke an Asiatic Greek, a lot like that of the Turkish Cypriots. But strange things had happened to it – idioms were lost on me, lots of referents to arid lands, deserts, but also whales and ice-cold water.

They had their own translators who spoke a downriver or crossriver speech, Indians who dressed half merchant, half local. There was lots of gesturing, some common signs and symbols, much body language.

The whole thing was like a refresher course at the Tower of Babel.

Somehow things got traded and commerce went on. I looked to the boat and saw a merchant come out and shoot the sun with a sextant, all brass and enamel.

Sun Man looked up. ‘Noon,’ he said.

In the middle of the afternoon, the whistle on the ship blew and everybody picked up their goods and went back into the village or the ship.

Aroun el Hama and merchants and Northerners accompanied us back to the huts.

Took got into step beside me.

‘We’ll feast them in the village, then they’ll feast us on the ship tonight. There’ll be a little trading tomorrow. Then they’ll trade upriver and hit us back on the way down in a moon or so.’

The fun was already starting. People were tapping on drums and tootling on flutes. One of the merchants had a guitar-looking thing with only five strings.

About a third of the way to the plaza, my horse whinnied over in its pen.

The merchants froze as stiff as Larry, Curly, and Moe had the first time they heard it.

‘I must have trading fever,’ said el Hama. ‘I thought I heard a horse.’

‘You did,’ I said. ‘It’s mine.’

For a moment I thought he was going to cry.

‘Could we see it?’ he asked.

I led them to it. El Hama and the others gentled it down, then began patting it and talking excitedly in Arabic.

‘We have brought no horses to these shores yet,’ said el Hama. ‘Though they plan to begin trading them soon, up around the Eastern Ocean. Where did you get such an animal?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I said. ‘I have thousands of things to ask you, but they can wait. Would you like to ride him?’

‘All I have is yours,’ he said, bowing.

I put the bridle on the horse. El Hama sprang up on his back with the grace of a man half his age.

I opened the pen. El Hama guided the horse out onto the plaza to the cheers of the onlookers, put it into an easy canter. Then he turned it, brought it back to where we stood.

‘So that’s what you do with it!’ said Sun Man. ‘Someday, Yazoo, you will have to teach me to do that.’

El Hama took the horse a few more trips around the plaza, then reluctantly came back. He knew he was holding up his hosts.

‘He rides beautifully,’ he said, dismounting. ‘Ah, it will be fine when such animals as this live in this land.’ He looked at me. ‘You will dine with us this night aboard the ship?’

‘Certainly.’

‘I also have questions to ask you. Many, many questions,’ he said.

We had reached Sun Man’s house. People started handing us food and drink, and trying to get us to dance.