The Totems of Abydos

CHAPTER 26





“Yes!” cried Rodriguez, excitedly, scrambling down the slope, leaving the passages in the stone, to descend to a shallow valley, not more than fifty yards in width, nestled at the exit, or what might be better thought of perhaps as the first, and perhaps oldest, entrance to the passages. There would presumably have seemed nothing particularly significant about this small valley to an untrained eye, but the spacing of certain grass-grown hillocks, or mounds, or barrows, within it, suggested to Rodriguez that he had here at last discovered the object of his quest.

“There!” said Rodriguez. “And there!”

Brenner, by now, gasping, his boots dusty, had slipped down the descent from the passages and joined Rodriguez.

“The first would be at the center, or in one corner, or at the edge of the place!” said Rodriguez. “Look for that most worn down, the most ancient!”

“What are you seeing here?” asked Brenner. He blinked against the sun, which seemed painfully bright after his emergence from the passages.

“This is a graveyard,” said Rodriguez.

“How can you tell?” asked Brenner. There were no visible, or obvious, markers. There was no fence, or gate, or barrier, or such.

“See the nature of the mounds, their height, their uniformity, their spacing!” cried Rodriguez.

“They are covered with grass,” said Brenner.

“Look for rocks,” said Rodriguez. “Anything that looks like a marker, or an encircling ring of stones, or a blocked entrance. And look for those most weathered!”

“Very well,” said Brenner.

“Of course, there may not be such,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner’s training was in cultural anthropology, and primarily in its academic, as opposed to its field, aspects. He was not an archeologist, and was not sensitive to tiny signs which might, to one who could read them, relate narratives of remote histories, a pin, a buckle, a beam of wood, a handful of beads revealing an unsuspected relationship between kingdoms, a shard of pottery marking the path of a migration, an oddity of terrain suggesting the location of a buried city.

“Here! Here!” cried Rodriguez, excitedly. “It must be this one, or perhaps that one. Come here!”

In a moment Brenner had joined Rodriguez, beside one of the mounds, or barrows, which, to his eye, did not seem much different from the others.

“Are you sure this is a grave,” said Brenner, “let alone, the oldest one.”

“This is a grave,” said Rodriguez, “like the others. Is the barrow, the tumulus, not evident to you?”

“Perhaps,” said Brenner, looking at the grass-grown mound. There was a slight wind now, blowing away from them, toward the passages. It bent the grass in that direction.

“I am certain it is the oldest,” said Rodriguez. “If not, then it is one of the oldest. If necessary, we can dig them all up!”

“Do you think the Pons know this place?” asked Brenner, uneasily.

“It is doubtful,” said Rodriguez. “And, in any event, it would presumably be meaningless to them. Indeed, even the graves, or tombs, in the cliffs, must be meaningless to them. They have been forgotten, or neglected, at least. You saw how no one, in perhaps thousands of years, had walked there.”

“True,” said Brenner.

“Such places may even be taboo to the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

“Yes,” said Brenner. This speculation, of course, did little to allay his uneasiness. In the passages he had had occasionally to resist the feeling that he might be something of an intruder there, if not an actual trespasser.

“In any case,” said Rodriguez, “what Pons know, or want, is immaterial.”

“There are a great many of them,” said Brenner.

“Surely no more than a hundred,” said Rodriguez.

“No, not so many,” said Brenner.

They had never managed to get an exact count of the Pons, as Pons seemed to come and go with some frequency. On the other hand, there was a reasonably reliable village population of some sixty or seventy Pons, and Brenner could recognize most of these, and Rodriguez could recognize some of them. Indeed, to some of the Pons, like Archimedes, they had given names.

“So?” said Rodriguez.

“They might act in concert,” said Brenner. After all, even small birds could mob predators twenty times their size. Too, Brenner remembered the tiny bones, and the marks of the baskets, drawn on ropes, near the interior wall of the palisade.

“If only we had a shovel,” said Rodriguez.

“If there are bones here,” said Brenner, “perhaps we should not disturb them.”

“I do not understand,” said Rodriguez.

“We may have no business here,” said Brenner. “And the Pons might not like it.”

“We do have business here,” said Rodriguez, “our business, the business of science.”

“The Pons might not like it,” said Brenner.

“They are monkeys,” said Rodriguez. “Do not concern yourself with them.”

“I am not a grave robber,” said Brenner.

“We are not out to steal rings and cups,” said Rodriguez. “This is a scientific investigation.”

“What is science to you may be desecration, or sacrilege, to Pons.”

“With one hand I could break them in two,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not like it,” said Brenner.

“Do not be afraid of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not like it,” said Brenner.

“Are you with me?”

“Of course.”

“We need a tool,” said Rodriguez. He seemed ready, in his eagerness, to attack the small hillock with his bare hands.

“There are scarps in the village,” said Brenner.

“There may be something in the passages,” said Rodriguez.

“Do you think this place, and the passages, are taboo to Pons?” asked Brenner.

“No, not really,” said Rodriguez. “I think it much more likely they do not even know about them. Too, the nearest things, the platform at the cliffs, and the string, were not taboo. You noted, surely, that the little bastards did not avoid them. Indeed, the string must be used as a guide to the platform.”

“That is true,” said Brenner. This was reassuring to him. He was not eager to trigger any sociological explosions. He remembered the small birds which could mob panthers. Such things could be a nuisance, even to panthers. And there had been the bones, and the marks in the dust.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner.

But Rodriguez was climbing up the slope toward the entrance to the passages, the entrance from this area, as there were several entrances at various points on the cliffs. He had left the torch, with a pack, at the opening of the passage, as he would not have needed it below, in the small, open valley.

Brenner turned back to look at the mounds.

There was still a slight breeze, blowing back toward the opening in the cliffs.

Brenner looked up, again, toward the entrance to the passages. He could see the pack on the slope. The torch was now gone. So Rodriguez was now within the passages. It did not seem likely to him that Rodriguez would find anything of much use in the passages for digging. To be sure, here and there, there had been one object or another lying about, to a side, usually in rubble. Perhaps he could find a flat, or curved rock, or cornice, or something, broken, or rejected by an artisan.

It was interesting, Brenner thought, how Rodriguez was so confident that this area was indeed a graveyard, that these mounds were barrows or tumuli. To be sure, the area was near the passages, and that alone, actually, would suggest that possibility.

Brenner sat down at the side of one of the mounds. He looked up. The sun was now a few degrees over the trees. It would be best, he thought, to return to the village. They had spent a very long time in the passages. It was getting late in the afternoon. He did not think it was wise to be outside the palisade after dark. He did not have, you see, the same confidence in the pact as did Rodriguez, and, certainly, he was not confident, in any case, even if such a pact existed, that he and Rodriguez would have managed to include themselves within it. It was certain the totem animal was dangerous. And it was possible, of course, that there might be alternative explanations for such things as his return to the village yesterday night, the bringing of the slain beast to the gate, and such.

Brenner stood up, turned, and looked up, to the entrance from which they had descended to the valley

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner.

He thought he could convince Rodriguez of the reasonableness of returning to the village. Too, in the village, they could obtain scarps.

By now it seemed that Rodriguez should have returned.

Brenner, with some difficulty, climbed up to the opening in the cliff.

Now the pack was gone, as well as the torch.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, angrily.

How like the fellow, to have returned for the pack, and to have set off for the village alone, in his impatience. Why had he not called down to Brenner?

To be sure, they were both protected by the pact, supposedly.

Did he intend to return before dark, and work tonight, by the light of the torch?

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, angrily.

Brenner then entered the passageway, and began to traverse it. It was not dark, certainly not at this point, for the entrance. Moreover, several of the passages, similarly, had an entrance, or, sooner or later, connected with others which had an entrance. Accordingly, whereas a torch would be welcome, certainly in some passages, or for better illumination, it was not as though Brenner were in danger of losing his way, at least for long, in the darkness. Even where the passages were dark one could feel one’s way about, and, sooner or later, given the limitations of the passages and the frequency of entrances, one could find one’s way outside.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, again.

Perhaps Rodriguez had come to the opening and not seen Brenner below. where he had been waiting. Perhaps Rodriguez thought Brenner had entered the passages, looking for him? Perhaps that is when he had retrieved the pack.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, no longer angry.

Rodriguez might be in the passages now, looking for Brenner, irritably, thinking Brenner might have tried to follow him in, and perhaps stumbled into one of the side passages and become momentarily lost. Although there were many passages, and chambers, where one would need light, naturally, there were several others, as suggested, where the light, because of the various openings, would range from dim to almost normal. To be sure, at night, given the absence of a moon on Abydos, one would need light.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner. “Rodriguez!”

Rodriguez must have returned to the village, but that did not really seem likely.

Perhaps Rodriguez had discovered another passage, one missed earlier, and, in a fashion typical for him, had proceeded on, precipitatously exploring it.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner. “Rodriguez!” But he heard only the echo of his own voice in the passages. If Rodriguez had heard him, it seemed likely that he would have responded, and that, in the intricate, winding passages, Brenner would have heard the response.

Rodriguez then, thought Brenner, must not be in the passages.

At least it seemed unlikely.

He has looked about, and found nothing useful, thought Brenner, and then he has returned to the village, for scarps, to come back this very night!

He should have told me, thought Brenner. It is not like him to have gone on alone.

But perhaps he did not see me, thought Brenner. Perhaps he thought that I had left.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner.

Perhaps he did not want to take the time to come back for me, thought Brenner. Perhaps he expects me to wait for him, here.

The pack is gone, thought Brenner. Thus, he must either be looking for me in the passages, or has gone to the village. And it seems unlikely he is in the passages, or he would have responded to my calls. Thus he must have left for the village. Why would he not have called for me? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he thinks I have already left for the village, going back through the passages, thinking that I was following him, or even back about the cliffs, back by the valley, rather than through the passages?

But that did not seem likely.

Brenner then went back to the opening and examined it, carefully. There, by the light, where the wind could blow, there was little dust. It was hard to see footprints there, and, back in the passages, the dust, of course, had been disturbed earlier by their passage. Brenner saw no other footprints, however, as nearly as he could judge.

Brenner then re-entered the passages.

He made his way amongst them for a time.

I will go back to the village, he thought.

Suddenly, for no reason that he clearly understood, in the darkness of one of the passages, one remote from the openings, he began to sweat with terror. He was at that time feeling his way, groping about the walls. Suddenly then, for no good reason, or none that he could understand, he had become panic-stricken.

“Rodriguez!” he cried out, in the darkness. “Rodriguez! Rodriguez!”

Then he cried out, suddenly. “Is anyone there? Is anything there?”

But there was no answer.

He did not know what might be in such passages, if anything, or, really, on the route back, or in the forest.

In the darkness, reaching out, he felt more than one of the giant sarcophagi.

I am lost, thought Brenner, suddenly, frightened.

He had the eerie feeling that perhaps the lids on the sarcophagi might move, sliding to one side, with grating sounds, and that things might emerge, joining him in the darkness.

I will never find my way out, thought Brenner. I will die here!

No, thought Brenner. I must be rational. This is not a labyrinth. These are tombs. It is not as though these were some measureless caverns, which might lead anywhere, even into the bowels of the earth. Too, it is not after dark. That is good. He then counted turnings, and felt the walls at corners, to note any irregularities, to prevent as best he might any unwitting retracing of his path, and then, at last, as he groped his way about, he could see a bit of dimness, or, at least, a space that seemed less dark. In a few minutes, following what seemed to be the lighter passages, he blinked against the light of the outside. He had come to one of the entrances. This was one of those in the side of the cliffs. He could even see the cliffs on the other side, those from the summit of which one could look down and see the platform, and, even, far off, the village.

“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, once again.

Now Brenner was again angry. How rude of Rodriguez, who, to be sure, was noted neither for his tact or civility, to have returned to the village without him, without even informing him of his intention. He resolved to berate his colleague liberally when he encountered him once more in the village. And if Rodriguez was on his way back to the cliffs, following the string, with tools, Brenner would simply refuse to accompany him back to the passages. The morning would be time enough, even if it were not for the dangers of being about at night. Brenner did not care for this joke, or this discourtesy, whichever it might be. But then Brenner was afraid.

He did not really believe, you see, that Rodriguez would return to the village without him. That, at least, did not seem likely.

Rather than return to the village immediately Brenner now walked along the outside of the cliffs, passing the openings on his right. He did not want to go back inside the passages. Too, it was getting darker. The sun was now behind the trees. He did go up to one or two of the openings and call out, but, again, there was no response from within. In a few minutes, about half a Commonworld hour, he had come to the small valley at the end of the cliffs on the right, to where the mounds were. But there was no sign of Rodriguez there, either. Brenner then, the cliffs with the openings now on his left, retraced his steps in the longer valley. Then he climbed up to the cliffs which overlooked the platform below, and the village, in the distance. Here, too, he saw no sign of Rodriguez. He could see the village in the distance. It was now growing dark.

Rodriguez must have left the passages, to return to the village. There was no other possible explanation.

As Brenner stood on the cliffs, above the platform, he saw torches being lit in the Pon village. These torches then, perhaps some twenty of them, left the village. He could see them from time to time, flickering amongst the trees. They were apparently following the string.

They may be coming to search for us, thought Brenner. Or, perhaps, for me. Perhaps Rodriguez has sent them back to find me. Brenner watched the torches. They were definitely following the string, definitely approaching.

In a few minutes Brenner, whose hearing, as we have noted, was excellent, could detect that the Pons were not approaching in silence.

They were uttering strange, keening sounds, sounds as though of misery, or mourning.

Brenner had never heard Pons utter such sounds.

He turned about, facing the valley, and the cliffs, with their openings, across the way. “Rodriguez!” he called. “Rodriguez! Emilio! Emilio!”

He received no answer. There was only the echo, reverberating back from the opposing cliffs.

Then, frightened, Brenner made his way down the cliff, past the platform, and hurried to meet the Pons.