Osric was already awake, kneeling to roll up his sleeping mat.
‘Do you remember if the Oneirokritikon says anything about ships sailing on the land?’ I asked him.
He sat back on his heels and waited for me to explain.
I described my dream to him. From outside came shouts and oaths, then the sounds of a stick being used vigorously. Someone was getting the cart-hauling camels under way.
‘There’s a straightforward explanation,’ he said. ‘You were expecting to cross Egypt along a canal by boat. Instead, we are obliged to go by land. That’s a more difficult journey.’
He reached for the walking staff that lay on the ground beside him. It helped offset the limp from his crooked leg while we were on the march. ‘But, since you ask, there was a mention in the Book of Dreams about a ship sailing across the land.’
‘What does it say?’
‘That to dream of sailing a ship across the land, while avoiding rocks and obstacles, foretells a journey beset with many difficulties and dangers.’ He got to his feet and gently poked me in the ribs with the end of the staff. ‘As far as I’m concerned, that’s no prophecy. It’s something we already know. You had better get up now or the caravan will move on without you.’
Later that morning, we found ourselves venturing out into a dun-coloured stony plain. There was no soil, just scoured rock and the occasional patch of sand or gravel. We walked deeper into the barren land, the wheels of the travelling cages crunching on the broken stones of the rough track. The sun was merciless, the bare rock throwing back the heat, and it felt as if we were walking into a gigantic oven. The only plants were weed, thickets of thorn bushes and a few stunted trees with twisted leafless limbs. Every couple of miles we paused to draw off buckets of water from the water cart so that our animals could drink. The water that remained in the buckets was thrown over them to try to cool them off. But it was no more than a gesture. Soon the ice bears were panting and their fur was a lifeless yellow.
‘How many days will we be in the desert?’ I asked Abram after the caravan halted for the night. The camels had been unloaded and hobbled in a tight group, their packs stacked to make an open square around them. Their drivers were lighting fires of thorn twigs. Under a clear sky it was going to be chilly.
‘The guide says we should reach the sea at the port of al-Qulzum in four days’ time,’ the dragoman replied. He looked past me, over my shoulder. ‘It looks as if Walo has found something.’
I turned to see Walo walking towards us, carefully holding something cupped between his hands. When he was no more than two yards away, he announced proudly, ‘It’s a baby.’
I looked to see what he was carrying so tenderly, then sprang back in fright. Cradled in Walo’s hands was a small serpent. The length of my forearm, it had a thick body with dusty brown scales and dark markings. The head was broad and flat.
‘It’s a young one,’ Walo repeated, holding up the snake so I could see it more closely. The hair rose on the back of my neck and I backed away.
‘A young what?’ I asked. I had broken into a cold sweat. I hate snakes.
‘A young cerastes. The parents can’t be far away.’
My mind raced as I tried to follow what Walo was talking about. I had an uncomfortable feeling that the serpent was venomous. Yet in Walo’s hands it appeared completely at ease, not moving, though I could see its black tongue flicking in and out.
‘Look at its head, above the eyes,’ Walo urged, holding it up closer. It was as much as I could do to stifle a groan of fear as I swayed back out of range.
Now I understood what Walo was talking about. Above each eye of the little serpent projected a short spine like a tiny horn. There sprang into my mind the picture of the cerastes in the Book of Beasts. It was a serpent with a horn above each eye and, as I recollected, a body that had no spine so that it could tie itself in knots. As if to confirm my thoughts, the serpent slithered and twisted in Walo’s cupped hands, rearranging its coils into tight loops.
‘It was hiding in the sand, just as the book says,’ stated Walo proudly. ‘The horns were standing up, attracting the birds so it could ambush them.’
‘I suggest you return it to where you found it,’ I croaked, ‘its parent might come looking for it, and that could be fatal.’
Casually, Walo lowered one hand and poured the snake from one cupped palm to the other, like a length of scaly rope.
One of the camel handlers was walking past. He took one look at the serpent and let out a yell of alarm, then took to his heels.
Abram came to my rescue. ‘Walo, the cerastes’ parents will be distressed if they find their baby missing.’