Navigator

Early morning. The sky is shot with pink and gold and is reflected dimly on the surface of the wrinkled ocean. The sea folds calmly over itself, leaving streaks of white foam along its face. Fortunately the waves are weak, as my stomach has never been kind to me on ocean voyages and this morning I must be focused, to keep watch.
From Egypt we followed south, always ensuring that the mainland was visible to the east of our convoy. In cycles we navigators take turns observing the land from the stern of the ship to ensure that we do not stray from our course. On a previous evening the sea was rough, and storm clouds bore rain over our shivering backs as we attempted to keep the ships heading in the correct direction. To my displeasure it had been my turn to keep an eye on the mainland when the storm struck, my seasickness got the better of me and caused  the ships to stray west as I was distracted by my suffering. This went unnoticed for many hours as the storm raged incessantly. It did not take long to correct my mistake, but I certainly do not wish to repeat it as the glares from my fellows were almost unbearable.
I keep both eyes firmly on the land in the distance as the sun slowly rises. The day is blindingly bright and the glare from the ocean burns into my watering eyes. Boredom begins to set in and as I squint to protect my eyes from the sting of light, I fail to realise that I am not completely awake. My thoughts drift and I am only swept from my stupor when a deep, indecipherable shout echoes from behind me.
I am quickly roused and I steady myself as my balance fails slightly. I have been unfocused for quite a time, as clouds are beginning to wash over the mid-afternoon sky. The ships are turning sharply, and only when I scour the mainland do I realise why.
Almost too far in the distance to see is a tunnel of thick, grey smoke, billowing from a shore to the north east of our position. It would have been passed probably half an hour ago, and due to my irresponsibility, I failed to notice it. I turn to face the crew and something raps me painfully hard in the forehead.
'Agh...' I groan rubbing my head where I was struck.
'And again, Tehu, you missed the mark,' taunts Khefti harshly.
I glare at him hatefully and turn back to face the smoke which we are now heading towards. Khefti and I have never interacted well with eachother, his arrogance and stubborness irritates me immensely.
'Don't fall asleep, boy!' calls Khefti as he walks away, making me cringe to control the burning desire I have to deflate his enormous head.
I wait anxiously as we near the mainland. Many months ago a messenger was sent to us, he told us that a signal fire would be set up to alert us to their position, and this is it. I am unsure what to expect from the people of Punt. Never before have I interacted with foriegners, and I readily admit that I am certainly not looking forward to the experience.
The afternoon wears on into evening and I am sure that the shoreline will be reached before nightfall. Reds and purples stain the sky to the west as the eastern sky pales into a whitish-blue above the nearing mainland.
Close to the shore the ships jerk and stop. Men begin laying long, wooden planks from the sides of the two boats and walk down carrying thick, never-ending ropes which they fasten to strong trees close to the shoreline. I follow the men down and the king's messenger leads the broad-shouldered soldiers down after I, and everyone else have already started down the planks. My sandaled feet splash icy water up my calves, then begin struggling as I reach the dry sand and try to trek up the small foredune with some dignity. However, not being a soldier I have little grace when moving across difficult surfaces, in fact, doing physical activity on any surface causes me embarrassment.
At the top of the dune I bend over and crouch a little, leaning my hands above my knees as I catch my breath. Standing up to survey the environment I notice that more than half of the tents have already been erected among the myrrh trees which grow slightly behind the first row of plantlife, none of which I can identify.
The soldiers seperate into groups of four and five before heading off into tents, coming out seconds later without their clothing, and walking down into the ocean to bathe.
I avert my eyes. Ashamedly, finding the bodies of the naked men beautiful and arousing.
Being more modest than the soldiers, I wait for the other two navigators to leave the tent we will be sharing and fill a jug with water, then begin bathing privately, hidden by the thin material walls of our shelter.
Tor is the oldest of the three navigators. He is somewhere in his late fifties, I assume, though I have never asked. He is calm and happy, always joking and being funny. He is liked by many people. His apprentice Phuko, the second navigator, however, is stern and serious. At seventeen years old he stands two heads higher than Tor, but unfortunately, his company is less than desireable.
I wait to dry a little, before dressing and heading outside where i shake the water from my dark hair. Everyone has come in from the ocean aside from the navigators and a few workmen who came to load the trade items on and off of the ships. The king's messenger and the twenty-five strong army are assembled a little way down the beach near where the signal fire's embers are slowly dying. I walk over slowly, not wanting to bring attention to myself, and edge behind the myrrh trees, to hide, watch and listen.
The people who I assume are the chiefs of Punt are bowing their heads before the king's messenger and the army, giving praise to Amon - Re. A woman stands before the messenger; Hatshepsut. Extravagant gold jewellery decorates her majesty and a lavish cloth wraps around her dark body. In her hair are countless gold beads and strings which trail down her back, entwined in thin plaits and braids, to her waist. She is highly respected, and the imperial look on her face demands it.
There are native women and men behind the chiefs, standing silently and looking up at Hatshepsut in awe. The messsenger calls over five workmen who carry loaves of bread, beer, wine, meat, fruit, and every thing else which we brought from Egypt to trade with. The men present the items and they are taken by the natives, one of whom is heavily pregnant and seems to struggle with the load, to somewhere beyond the the trees where I cannot see.
'The workmen will be assembled by the soldiers so they are prepared to load the goods when they are received in the morning,' says the messenger sternly.
'Yes,' replies a muscly, threatening looking man obediently, 'and our people will have the items delivered before the sun sails into the heavens.'
The messenger looks to Hatshepsut, who inclines her head slightly, then he replies, 'very well.'
The chiefs bow their heads to Hatshepsut, the messenger and the army, before they all retreat back to their respective living areas.
I stumble back towards my tent, tripping and sliding on the sand in the darkness, then slip through the split between the back walls.Tor and Phuko still aren't back from the ocean yet and I'm glad as I sit down and get my breath back, I don't feel much like being around other people as I'm tired. I lay back and close my eyes with the intention of sleeping, but within a minute of laying back, I hear the flaps of the tent being ripped open.
'Up, boy, go to the tent of the messenger,' growls a man with a deep, rich voice; he is one of the soldiers I saw walking down to the beach earlier. He turns around and allows the flaps gently flutter closed behind him.
I stand obediently and head outside where there is a stream of people walking quickly towards the messenger's tent. I slide into the crowd and follow. As everyone comes to a stop, I slip out of the goup to the side of the tent, so it is easier for me to see.
On the sand is a square, wooden board, in the middle of which stands the messenger. Two poles are attached to the sides of the board, and four soldiers grip the ends and lift the board so that the messenger can be easily seen and heard by the assembly.
'Tomorrow, before the sun has awoken, our trade will be delivered,' begins the messenger in an uninterested drone, 'do not fear if you wake to sounds of foreigners moving amongst us for they are welcome. Rise before dawn, everyone, to receive the trade and carry it aboard our trade vessels. That is all.'
The four men lower him to the ground and he retreats into his tent. I turn and walk towards my own, frustrated slightly that my sleep was interrupted by an uneccesary message.
When I walk into the tent, Tor is already asleep, talking nonsense and laughing, in a position that looks incredibly uncomfortable. Phuko however, is not back yet and I wonder where he has gone; he is never without Tor.
I lay down and sleep immediately, very deeply.
As I wake the next morning I feel heavy raindrops striking my skin, almost painfully, and realise that the sun has risen and my tent has been packed up around me. Khefti is standing over me, one hand reaching towards my arm, I take it.
'Boy, I told you not to sleep did I not?' he says with a grin as he pulls me to my feet, 'we would have left without you but we felt sorry for you. Oh, and it was necessary that someone record the trade on the way back,' he winks and laughs, then walks away with a playful punch to my shoulder, which was a little harder than I think was necessary.
I follow him up the planks to the ship with the new items and feel myself being jerked towards the west almost immediately. I'm ushered along to where a mass of items, mostly trees, have been left, I am to record everything I see that was receieved in the trade.
I walk among the items, an incredible, indescribable smell seeping into my skin. Myrrh resin, fresh myrrh trees, ebony and pure ivory, green gold of Emu, cinnamon wood, kheyst wood with ihmut-incense, sonter-incense eye cosmetic, apes, monkeys, dogs and skins of the southern panther. There were even some natives and their children.
As I counted and recorded, Tor jumped up behind me, once again without Phuko. My curiousity was sparked.
'Where is Phuko?' I ask politely.
A cheeky grin spreads across Tor's face, 'he is not on the ships,' he points back towards the east, towards Punt, 'he is there.'
I am surprised, 'why? Did we leave him behind?'
Tor laughs, 'no, of course not!'
'Then why is he still in Punt?' I am growing impatient.
'He met a girl, a native girl,' Tor giggles and puts his hands to his mouth to stifle himself, 'he wanted to stay, so he did!'
I am stunned. I watch Tor walk away, still chuckling to himself.
'Oh! When you are finished here, you will watch the mainland,' he calls over his shoulder, and I groan.
After many weeks on the ocean, we arrive back in Egypt and rumours begin to spread of a garden. A garden dedicated to the god Amon, filled with myrrh trees and other scented plants. It is said that it is more beautiful than any other garden of its kind. Though I am not permitted to see it, I am sure it is more stunning and breathtaking than the rumours suggest, and that it will be remembered always.