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  “The secondary choice?”

  “I wish to speak in favour.” It was Salihah, the apprentice weaver and dye maker, a young girl barely thirteen but already with a reputation for remarkable intelligence to match her beauty.

  “I fear we will all die in a strange land or on the journey. If we disperse within the upper Nile and wait out the coming catastrophe, we can reform again in two or three years as we have done before in the past. Let us abandon this village now and move south, The trouble is in the north. If we take the third option, it entails moving our people through the violent lands in order to contact our eastern friends on the seaports in the north. I am fearful of such a journey.”

  Some brief conversations broke out at this point. Eventually they stopped and everyone turned their eyes to Pekhrari, Utet’s grandfather.

  “Who will speak for the third choice?”

  There was silence. The people needed guidance and were looking to their elders to take the lead.

  “Very well, I will speak myself for the third choice. I am an old man and for seventy-eight years I have lived in fear of the pharaohs and their cruel system. Our own people have walked in shadows for fear of being recognised for five times longer than I have lived. The second choice will not change this, but yes, it is true that the chances of survival may be higher. The third choice is a chance to live and explore our true potential. With every passing year of my life, I have seen our people grow in their humanity. Your compassion and kindness is recognised by all you come into contact with. I have seen no such change in the society we hide inside; they see little value in compassion and regard human life as expendable. We are labouring in a lost cause, they will not change, and we are reaching the limits of our ability to hide from them. The kings dream of pyramids, the afterlife, conquests. We dream of unlimited knowledge and wisdom, humanity at peace with itself and its neighbours. We take a vow of pacifism to set ourselves free from the curse of war and in this act, we defy our rulers and define ourselves. Pacifism will always make innocent victims of us but it is preferable to the barbarity of those around us. Violence destroys where peace builds, and only peace can offer true progress for humanity. I wish you all, my friends, to be happy, free to express yourselves and reach your potential. I am a father whose beautiful children are locked in a tomb. I hear your cries for peace every waking hour; my selfish desire is to end your torment before I die. It is with great regret I give away hope for Egypt, but it is time to leave this land which, despite all, has been our home. If we go, we must go with the intention of never returning. We go to find a new beginning.”

  Those assembled saw tears in the old man’s eyes, this was not an easy choice for him and all knew how much was at stake. Again there was silence, each person locked in their own thoughts. The time had come to vote and time was running out for everybody. Whispered discussions broke out among family groups.

  Three clay jars, each numbered, were placed on a stone bench. Every person over the age of fifteen would cast their vote. They gradually moved towards the jars, some holding back talking to their loved ones, stress and fear written on their faces, some women were sobbing. Utet, whose dream was to see this moment come, ironically slept through the whole process.

  Utet woke to the sound of anxious voices shouting instructions and people moving around in haste. For a second, he feared he had slept too long and the guard had already arrived. As the clouds faded from his brain, he realised the village was preparing to move. He threw some water over his head. It was still dark outside, the sun was showing no sign of rising and the moon told him it would not do so for at least two more hours. Preparations were almost complete for a full-scale exodus. His mother, father and sister were themselves tying the last of their most valued possessions on a large cart pulled by two oxen. Utet’s father took him by both shoulders and said the words he had hoped to hear. “We are leaving Egypt. Riders have been sent to the nearest guild centres, each will get to make their own choice about their own future. They will be given coded instructions of our point of departure on the coast. Word has also been sent to our Assyrian friends. It is hoped we can coordinate a departure in two weeks’ time, which is in itself a long time to evade the Pharaoh and his enemies to the north. We will discuss more of this later. Fetch that fine horse you came home on, you will ride like a prince to your destiny.” His father’s joke was aimed to diffuse the anxiety of the womenfolk, and Utet admired his father for these little insights of wisdom. Utet looked around to check his immediate family were prepared.

  “Where is grandfather?”

  “He and the older folk left a few minutes ago. They decided to leave the final packing to the young and get a small start on the main caravan, this will attract less attention and they could act as a forward scouting party; we in turn can travel faster and will eventually catch up with them anyway.”

  Utet’s sister, Kartek, had made this reply. She was obviously as excited by the prospect of the adventure about to unfold as Utet himself was. Her eyes were extra bright and wide. Three years younger than Utet, Kartek had never before left the village.

  “Father, how many are to join us on the journey north?”

  “Many of those with small children have decided to stay, their men of fighting age will hide in the desert as long as possible, some have decided to go south seeking protection from other guild members. In all 219 have decided on this exodus, but this number could more than quadruple once we gather at the coastal departure point.”

  Utet loaded some personal possessions into his saddlebags, then assisted others in their packing. An hour later, he mounted his horse; a small column of donkeys, oxen, carts of various sizes and a few horses had formed and were awaiting the order to proceed. Much had been done in a short time, the glow from a rising sun had barely begun to stain the sky as they began the trek north, The older people had already been on the road for nearly two hours. There were many lingering glances back at the village and a sad silence fell over all, even Utet and Kartek succumbed to the solemnity and gravity of the event. For the next three hours, little was said as there was much to dwell on and every individual mind was playing through the fears of the journey and the possibility of a life with true freedom.

  “Father, will we head straight north, surely that will put us in the centre of the revolt?”

  “No, tomorrow we will turn to the north-west, we cannot afford to stop, those who require sleep will rest in the covered ox carts. We must maintain our advantage of distance over any who may pursue us. We have ample food and water and, once we get a little closer to the areas of conflict, we may be mistaken for refugees fleeing from the Pharaoh. Which indeed we are.”

  “How can we trust the Assyrians will be at the departure point?” Utet had often thought this exodus was plainly vulnerable to the treachery of outsiders.

  “They will not be there when we arrive, we will have to wait. We have promised them much gold in return for their services and the one particular family of seafarers we have dealt with in the past has always been reliable. The relationship goes back two generations and has been profitable for both sides. Everything is a risk, my son, but you are now free to ask for details of the entirety of the plan, which has been kept in the heads of a very few of the elders for 200 years.”

  Utet at last was free to ask the question he had so often wondered about.

  “Where are we going to settle, Father?”

  “The Assyrian traders say there are lands to the north-west, where the people are very few. They are primitive and timid. The intention is to take us to an unpopulated area which we can colonise. The Assyrians see the profit in continuing to trade with us once we are established. It is a land rich in many resources; we hope to prosper and grow in numbers without interference.”

  Utet now had more than enough to occupy his thoughts. His sleep period in the ox wagon was sweetened by the dream of a paradise in which he would achieve great things, achieve untold wisdom and knowledge and be respected by the hap
py and peaceful inhabitants of a great city and, of course, marry a beautiful woman.

  At the end of the second day, they caught up with the older people who had had an uneventful journey and, apart from some questions from curious peasants, had nothing to report. At nightfall, smoke and the glow of villages burning could be seen, but the exodus was moving in a more westerly direction away from the conflict. The arable flood plain of the Nile was eventually left behind and the country became sandy and strewn with rocks, making the pace slower, and the heat added to the discomfort, even though it was late winter. Then, on the morning of the fifth day, the sea came into view. The prospect of bathing in the clean salt water spurred the travellers on. They came upon a small fishing community, where they were viewed with suspicion when the travellers were recognised by their clothing as being Egyptian. However, the purchase of a few wineskins and a liberal distribution of it among the inhabitants allayed fears, and they were welcomed. Utet walked down to the beach and scanned the horizon, looking and hoping for signs of a sail; but there was nothing to be seen except for a small fishing boat leaving to do some night fishing for squid. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “We must be patient. Things have gone well so far, the stars smile on us.” Utet smiled at the old expression. He noticed how he was not alone on the beach, and just about the entire exodus was standing with their eyes focused on either the horizon or the stars. It was a strange sight, each individual lost in thought silent and unmoving. It was if they were for the first time savouring freedom of thought. Utet himself realised they need not pretend to show deference to the gods of Egypt anymore. In that fact alone there was a feeling of freedom. Utet took a deep breath of salt air, “Yes, I do believe the stars are smiling on us, Mother.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  722 BC

  Movement for humans is inevitable, stagnation isn’t an alternative. From the Wisdom of the Elders.

  They waited, patiently at first as there was plenty to keep them occupied. Also, there was sunburn and blisters to heal. At the end of the third day, more guild families arrived from two separate towns. They had seen soldiers of the Pharaoh rounding up peasants and requisitioning slaves. They were fortunate not to have been pursued but feared for those of other villages and towns who would be trying to move north. The exodus now numbered 529. They saw no sails that day apart from the fishermen; the fourth and fifth days passed by, but still there were no sign of sails on the horizon. No new refugees had appeared either. After a full week had passed at the fishing village, a small group of guild members, looking the worst for wear, staggered into the village on foot with no possessions at all. The news they bore was disturbing. They had been in a large group of more than 500 when they were stopped by charioteers. When told to return to the city so the men could be conscripted, those who had horses attempted to ride off. The charioteers gave chase, firing arrows at the fleeing guildspeople. Soldiers drew their swords and began slaughtering those left behind. Only fifteen managed to escape, most of the horses had severe arrow wounds including three of the escapees. Two days later all the horses were dead from wounds and exhaustion. The twelve survivors consisted of seven young men and five women. The survivors felt the chariots had turned back once they realised that pursuit would lead them into the desert lands and away from Egypt. The total number was 541 guild members. Grandfather had been hoping for at least 700 but it was unlikely any more would arrive. Another two days passed and the exiles grew more frightened. The prospect of being stuck in this village until discovery was becoming a real possibility. Then, eventually, on the evening of their sixteenth day of exile, a small fleet of square-sailed ships were seen plying their way towards the shore. They had planned to land after sunset. Grandfather and the other elders gathered everyone on the beach. “Although our number is a lot smaller than I hoped, there will still be a shortage of space and the voyage is expected to last more than four weeks. No animals can be taken. Pack your food and possessions carefully, your tools and implements are to be given priority. Spring is here so we may be lucky enough to avoid heavy seas. However, seasickness is inevitable as we are not seafaring people. Women with children will board first, remember the captain of your boat is to be obeyed in all things.” Grandfather’s words were listened to with a complete focus of attention. It was a part of guild training that all had practised since they were born.

  The exiles were all neatly lined up when the nine boats dropped anchor. The captain and his young son were well known to a few of the elderss who had traded with his family at this very spot on a yearly basis. A tall muscular man, the exiles stared at his long hair streaked a wheaten colour by constant exposure to the sun and salt sea. He was greeted with affection by the elders. The captain’s name was Nuhro; his son, a boy of eleven years, was named Sabri. Nuhro explained that he had only brought a few close family members to sail the ships and man the oars. He felt secrecy was best served this way. It meant, however, that the exiles would have to turn their hands to seamanship in order to properly man the ships. Utet took an immediate liking for the captain and his ships, both were impressive. The huge horsehead-carved prow of each ship looked down at him, saying, Ride with me to the end of the world. Sabri ran around the assembly, trying to make himself understood and looking at the possessions, clearly excited and curious about the Egyptians.

  “I believe we can risk a few more hours ashore, tell everyone to load their possessions then eat and get some sleep. The sleep during the journey will be of a very poor quality. I will wake everyone one hour before sunrise,” said Nuhro, then took grandfather aside:

  “Do you have the gold to pay us, my friend?”

  “On our safe arrival it will be yours.”

  “As usual, you are a man of your word, Pekhrari, just as all your people are. It is why I have given you preference in all my trading over the years. I have traded mainly with you and have not let Assyrian, Phoenician or Egyptian politics interfere with our relationship,” he laughed.

  “It has been both pleasant and profitable,” replied Pekhrari.

  “Hanif! Hanif, bring your guests to our rough table, the food is ready.” It was Salama, Utet’s mother. They all went to the now unladen cart that served as a dining table.

  During the meal, Nuhro said, “Earlier this evening, I mentioned the pleasure I have had trading with you. Yet, I confess, I have an ulterior motive in taking you to the islands in the west.”

  “Speak freely, friend,” said Hanif.

  “It is a long voyage but it is profitable, the people of the western islands have metals including gold and silver to trade. They have furs and leather goods, these things I exchange for wine and silk and linen, fine pottery and all manner of things. Here in Egypt, you traded goods for eastern knowledge, powders and potions. I am hoping that you will continue in this trade once you are settled and act as a trading post for my family for generations to come. To this end, I am setting you down at the most southern tip of the British islands. It has the advantage of saving two days’ sailing for me as it is closer than my usual trade area. It is also virtually uninhabited as the severity of the weather in that part discourages others from settlement.”

  “I’m sure I can speak for everyone in saying your plans suit us perfectly,” replied Hanif. “We will gladly suffer poor weather if it allows us some anonymity and plentiful resources.”

  “The weather in winter is hard and you must prepare for it. The land is fat however, and screams with life in spring like a woman in labour.” He pulled Sabri to his side. “This cub has filled his imagination with the tales of the western isle and threatened to run away from home if I did not bring him on this voyage.” Sabri grinned at them all, even though he could not understand the language. “It will be an opportunity to teach him the ways of the sea, as one day it will be his life.”

  Salama drew their attention to the fact they should sleep. Utet had a million questions but, clearly, they would have to wait until morning.

  Utet rubb
ed the sleep from his eyes and crawled out from his blanket. He could see lights from oil lamps bobbing about as people embarked and were seated on the boats. The fisherfolk were very happy when they were told that the animals were to be left with them for their use for the next two years. The boats would then pick them up and take them to the western isle. Any progeny from the animals were to be regarded as the fisherfolks’ property. Kartek was putting out the fire and, without saying a word, took his hand and together they walked to the beach. The boats were crowded and Utet realised there would have been logistical problems if the originally intended number had made it to the coast. As he waded through the water, he turned and looked landward into the distance but it was still dark and no lights could be seen. Realising he was among the last to board, he helped Kartek up a short rope ladder then climbed aboard himself. He was assigned an oar, the anchors were pulled up and the order came to row. They rowed directly away from the beach for half an hour, then with the first ray of light for the new day turning the boat’s sails to gold, they raised the sails and set a course for the west.

  Every boat had two regular crews; the oars were manned by the exiles who would have to learn quickly and there would be many blisters from ropes and rowing. The boats were slow and heavy, until Utet soon became tired of watching the shoreline as it tended to reinforce the impression that the boat was stationary. He could not help looking backwards for signs of pursuit. The breeze was light but they used it instead of the oars, tacking slowly west. Utet’s family had split themselves between two of the nine boats. Utet and Kartek were together on what seemed to be the slightly smaller in the fleet. This was to prove an advantage, as on the third day the wind died altogether and they took turns on the oars. After six hours, three of which were spent in hard labour, Utet was exhausted. He asked his captain why they did not put ashore for the night, and was told there would be no stopping until they reached their destination and offered no explanation. Utet realised later that, again, it was a question of logistics, as stores on board were limited and difficult to replenish without danger. They had sailed directly westward from Egypt and, leaving the Mediterranean, entered the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Many of the exiles suffered seasickness as the swell lifted then dropped them. Moving out into the Bay of Biscay, an early summer storm had all but the experienced vomiting. Yet this was short-lived and doubled their speed for a few hours.