The military ship vibrated violently under the force of the solar-driven, underwater turbines that propelled it towards the delta at a speed that made Seti's stomach churn.

"Sick in the face, already?" called the captain, a small, lithe man sunburnt so dark he almost looked Nubian. "This is nothing. Wait until we get to The Great Green!"  

The Great Green. Seti had never been far enough north to see the vast open water that marked the end of Egypt and the beginning of the rest of the world. His father had, though, and said it was every true sailor's dream. A water without shores, without direction. Nothing but the wind and the stars and the waves. That had been his father's idea of earthly perfection, but Seti was unsure if it was his. 

He'd sailed with his father on the transport ships when he was a boy, of course, throwing ropes and moving the poles, but never further up or down river than a few leagues. 

The river always had a breeze, but Seti was unprepared for the  constant gale that pushed against him and the virtually constant mist of water that sprayed his body and clothing on the turbined ship. He'd long since taken off his wig, afraid it would be blown off and lost in the waves. 

The captain slowed considerably when passing by larger towns or overtaking transport groups, but always with some choice curses on his lips. Every tall, stone watchtower they passed flew the red warning flag with the white shield that signalled an approaching military convoy. To avoid accidents, smaller or slower river craft were supposed to dock or move as close to the shore of the wide river as possible the minute the flags were hoisted. 

Were supposed to. 

A few merchant ships refused to dock and yielded only minimally.  Seti turn around to watch as the crew were tossed and a few thrown overboard into the frothy, choppy waves that unfolded in the wake of the eight rapidly passing military ships.

"Donkey mounting idiots!" screamed the captain into the wind. "I hope they lost some cargo." 

Seti held onto the thick rope loop attached to the front of his small, roofed cabin and watched the landscape run past like an escaping thief or a child in pursuit of a ball. Temples, towns, villages, people doing their washing, fishermen pulling in their catch, and fields, fields, fields, fields. But always off  in the distance behind the bustle and life of the fertile green strip hugging the river were the dusty, purple mountains that rose from the desert.   

Egypt was the river. Without it, there would be no kingdom. 

If ever he needed to be reminded of that, the evidence lay right before him. He'd never seen so much of his own country. 

Seti mentally wrung his hands, hoping his message would be delivered to Seshat. There was no telling how long this voyage was to take, or even if he'd come back. On land, at home, he'd felt the potential for danger looming just beyond his edge of his sight. But now, speeding towards the delta, toward the limits of Egypt, the full realisation of his situation hit him. 

He might never come back. The Great Green might swallow him or they might sail around attempting to find the Babylonians and this mystery island until they all perished of sunstroke and dehydration. He just might arrive in the Hall of Osiris much sooner than he'd planned. 

And what would he say to the god of the Underworld? 

Seti shook his head to get rid of his worries and morbid thoughts. He had been hustled onto the ship so quickly, he'd not had time to ask any questions. And perhaps, he reflected, that had been the point. He remembered the friendly, but firm, hand on his arm pulling him away when he'd asked for details.  

Seti contented himself with watching the landscape pass until the sun sank so low that he feared they would continue at the same breakneck speed through the night. But, just as the last glow of light receded from the sky, a garrison appeared around a bend  in the river and the ships reduced speed to gently glide into the narrow,  waiting docks.  

Seti was shooed off of the ship, and although he wobbled a bit as he walked on solid ground again after ten hours, he was able to enjoy the bowl of barley gruel and the hunk of brown bread that was shoved into his hands. He hadn't realised he was hungry until he'd swallowed the first mouthful. 

". . .and if it were me, I'd go right now chase 'em all back to where they come from!" 

"But it isn't you, and the general didn't ask your advice." 

"Well, he should! It's a catastrophe waiting to happen! But no, it's all about the dangers down South, isn't it? The Nubian problem and the Beduins and--"

"Oh, here we go again! Why don't you leave off?"

"...and what about us in the North, huh? What about up here? Are we not good enough for Pharaoh's attention? What are our watchtowers for if we let hundreds, maybe thousands, of them foreigners overrun our borders every year? You tell me?"

"My fist is going to tell your face if you don't shut up and let me eat my dinner in peace."

Seti looked at the soldier voicing his concerns. He was a larger man, with wide shoulders and a muscular torso. The scars on his face and chest showed he was no stranger to tussles. The man caught him looking and said "Hey, you! Do they talk about the Hysko problem down in the capital? I bet they don't."

"Ignore him," another solider, also a large, muscular man, said, "he's got a thing about foreigners. Hyskos in particular. We think one of their women didn't want him."

"Well, do they?" demanded the first solider again, scowling.

Seti had to admit they didn't. He'd seen a dispatch or two about a foreign people who had founded villages in the desert near the Eastern frontier. They'd sounded like an enclave of merchants and craftsmen to him. 

"Merchants and craftsmen? Swarming in like flies on a dead jackal in the summer? Not learning our language and keeping their own barbarian ways as if there's something wrong with ours?" The solider scoffed and pointed his spoon at Seti. "Mark my words, they're up to no good! Foreigners are never up to any good and Pharaoh should drive them out as soon as possible!" 

At that moment, as sharp, commanding voice from above Seti's head cut into the conversation. 

"I'm not sure The Living God cares what you think. Your job is to man this garrison and carry out orders, not concern yourself with politics!" 

The solider glared at the source of the voice, but then quickly decided that silence was the best option. A moment later, Seti understood why. A man wearing a leopard skin and a finely woven, highly fashionable tunic and kilt sat down on the bench next to him. Gold rings adorned each of his fingers and heavy, silver earrings dangled from earlobes that peeked out under a wig made of hundreds of tiny, bright blue beads. 

Seti felt not only minuscule, but naked in comparison. 

The man stared down the curious gazes of the rest of the soldiers until they turned their attention to their supper bowls and back to their own conversations. 

"I'm Mehu," the man said quietly. "You must be Seti. I've been assigned to assist you on our mission." 

Mehu reached out, pinched off a bit of the brown bread loaf sitting on the table, and after examining it closely, dropped it into his mouth with an elegant movement. 

If anything told Seti that his presence on the mission was a colossal farce, it was the man in front of him. How could someone who dressed and acted like that be his assistant?   The feeling that invisible strings, no ropes, were being pulled and he was blind to all of it rose again and he shifted uncomfortably on the rough-hewn wooden bench.

"I was informed you speak Babylonian," he said, simply to say something. 

Mehu nodded, eyeing Seti as he pinched off another piece of bread and chewed. "And several other diplomatic languages, but I doubt they'll be of use to us in the coming weeks." 

Seti nodded again, unsure of how to proceed. "You're, ummm.  . . Which ship are you on? I didn't have much time to look around when I came aboard in the capital."

Mehu smiled, showing teeth that must have been cleansed regularly with lemon powder. "I'm joining the expedition here. I'll be in the cabin next to yours. That will give us time to work out a negotiation strategy before we arrive."

"Fabulous," Seti said, although he had no idea that negotiations needed specific strategies. He'd always thought there were simply rules one followed, but what did he know of this? "Though it might be months before we arrive anywhere, correct? That would be enough time to work out several strategies." He chuckled a bit in an attempt to cover up the anxiety he felt. 

"Not months," said Mehu, hesitating. Then, as if he was fighting an interior battle with himself, he whispered, "Look, I know they haven't told you anything, but we have a fair idea where the island is . . .  just not which one. That's really the problem."   

"Not which one?" 

Mehu nodded, but didn't say anything more. After a few moments, he added "see you on board,"  then rose and left the room amidst the sounds of chewing, the occasional grunt and belch, and sporadic conversation. 

Seti finished his dinner in silence. 

The Great Green was everything his father had told him it was. A vast water that seemingly had no limits, like a watery version of the Western desert. The military convoy passed through the final, silty limits of the Nile delta and Seti took one last look at home with a sense of unease.

"Now it finally gets interesting!" shouted the captain as the underwater turbines were set on high speed and the ships shot off over the surface of the water towards the horizon. 

Two days later, the military convoy docked at a rocky, almost treeless island and waited for the Babylonians to pass. There was fresh water and the crew hunted lizards and wild sheep for meat. 

Mehu, now in a leather kilt and minus his finery, sat on the deck of their ship and instructed Seti on pertinent customs of the Babylonians and even taught him a few words of greeting. He was a pleasant man, a little on the short side with broad cheeks and a straight, narrow nose, who exuded the air of someone used to luxury but who had not been corrupted by it. Seti found himself quite liking Mehu and was grateful to have someone so personable for company.

One incident overshadowed the fairly quiet, restful days of waiting. Early one morning, as he was shaving in the cold, shallow water of the rocky shore, Seti thought he spotted the man who had threatened him returning from the island's interior with the crew of one of the last ships in the convoy. They were too far away to be absolutely sure, but a jolt of shock and foreboding ran through him regardless. 

Why was he here? To make sure Seti did what he was told? Why not just post him on the same ship and cow him into silence with threats of being made into fish fodder? Why keep him hidden, if it even was the same man? 

Seti shook his head. All of this was beyond his comprehension and had been from the start. The only thing he could determine with any degree of confidence was that he had a role to play in what was coming. But what that role was? No matter how he moved the pieces around in his head, he couldn't make sense of them.   

After six days, the Babylonian convoy was spotted: five large, dark ships, low in the water and with unknown gods or spirits carved into the tops of the long sterns and prows. 

The Egyptian convoy waited until they were over the horizon before following, always careful to stay just out of sight. 

On the ninth day of pursuit, Mehu looked up at the sky before going into his cabin for the night and said, "We should almost be there."

---

A/N The photo at the top shows a modern reconstruction of a seaworthy Ancient Egyptian ship. It has a very different shape than the boats that were used to travel up and down the Nile. 

The Great Green was the Ancient Egyptian term for the Mediterranean Sea.