Made in Qart-Hadasht

Everyone missed Elishat. They missed her contagious energy and her practicality. They missed her fair, firm stance on just about everything. They missed daily sightings of their Queen, never tiring, thinking only of her people and what was best for them. They all knew that no matter how long they lived, they would never see a day go by without wishing she were still with them. As the weeks passed, the meaning of the queen’s sacrifice gradually became clear. When the news trickled back that Iarbas and his Amazigh warriors had retreated permanently to their grazing lands to the south, the threat of invasion vanished. The people of the hill were free to get on with building the city. Elishat’s courage and magnanimity were unparallelled. Not only had she risked her life to lead their escape from a tyrant, she had, in the end, sacrificed everything to secure their freedom. Despite their growing awareness of Elishat’s decision, or, perhaps because of it, the hillside remained shrouded in sadness.

For his part, Iarbas thanked the sky spirit for guiding him away from a liaison with the hillside queen. He convinced his council of tribal leaders that the people on the hill were neither gods nor demons. So long as their direction of interest was seaward, they posed no danger, and he would no longer pursue them. The Amazigh council agreed and went back to discussions of feeding grounds, hunting boundaries, and the like. Truth be told, there were still moments when an image of the beautiful Dido entered his mind and made him wonder if he could have had her, but then again, the Amazigh king was not one to regret that which could not be changed, and over time, he wisely let her go.

Early one morning, the people awoke to the tink-tink-tink of the mason’s hammer and chisel scoring a block of stone. A short while later, the rasp of the carpenter’s saw and the gasp of Ta’am’s bellows in the forge told everyone it was time to lift themselves out of the gloom. The aroma of a newly lit fire stimulated their appetite for fresh baked bread. As the hill came to life, everyone heard the voice of Elishat ordering them back to work. They were not happy, the fish cleaner, the clay digger, the olive presser, and the others, but they managed a nod of greeting as they passed one another on their way to the duties that had been left behind for long enough.

Hannu poured himself into preparation for his first overseas mission. He went from person to person to ask them to start producing goods for trade. For everything they made for use in Qart-hadasht, he said, they should make an identical twin for him to take with him. He promised to make them famous all across the Great Sea. Thus, the hill came alive with the tap of the cobbler’s hammer, the hiss of the glassblower’s furnace, the whir of the potter’s wheel. The perfumer filled tiny glass bottles with distilled oils, the needleworker embroidered a leather vest, and the ceramicist pinched clay into oil lamps with amusing faces to make the buyer smile and remember that the piece could only have come from Qart-hadasht. When grief visited their ailing hearts, as it inevitably did, they took solace in knowing that Queen Elishat would have been proud to see her city abuzz with activity just as she had planned.

Weeks turned into months, and the time came, as Amaal dreaded it would, when Hannu asked her and Uru to come with him to see his ship.

“What’s her name?” Amaal asked, looking up at the handsome new vessel.

Hannu hesitated.

“Well?” Uru signed.

He cleared his throat. “She’s called ‘Kaleva.’”

It wasn’t what Amaal had expected. She thought he’d have named her after Elishat or his mother, Manu. She looked again at the ship, imagining their hero on board. “After Kalev,” she said. “He’ll be sailing with you.”

“And bringing us good luck.”

Hannu brought them aboard. “I built this,” he said, pounding his foot on the wooden deck. “And this,” patting the thick cedar mast. “I sewed the sail,” he said, pointing to the bright, ecru fabric gathered up along the cross beam high above them. “Did you see the eyes on the bow?”

“Terrifying!” Amaal said.

“I painted them.”

He led them down into the hold. In addition to the required equipment and supplies, sacks and bundles and boxes of merchandise filled every available space. Not surprisingly, Hannu had a pitch ready for every item: “Bangles to ward off fire spirits; earrings to elongate the neck; amber rings to win over the one you love; hair clips exactly like the ones Pharaoh’s wife wears; copper buckles and pins to close your cloak against the wind; amulets of dolphins or cats or the Eye of Horus; carved cedar doors to keep jackals out of the house; jingly bells to call your children in for supper; figurines of voluptuous virgins, bearded men, and lumpy-faced monsters.”

Amaal and Uru celebrated Hannu’s success. He had single-handedly inspired the artisans of Qart-hadasht to produce a shipload of merchandise.

            “Where are you going with all this stuff?” Uru asked.

            “Everywhere!” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’m going everywhere!”

Uru solemnly handed him a length of violet blue trim. “Promise me you’ll get a good price for it.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, tucking the linen into his sash. “I’ll sell it to a prince!”

“And tell them it was made in Qart-hadasht!” she insisted.

“By Ba’al, I promise! I’ll sell your cloth and the city in the same breath!”

Hannu’s optimism didn’t make the girls feel any better. His enthusiasm for leaving made it all the more difficult for them to tell him how much they would miss him. His ceaseless energy, his constant banter. They knew he craved adventure, but they didn’t want to see him go.

“Do you think you could bring me back some papyrus?” Amaal asked.

“I can get it in Memphis, when I go to see Pharaoh! Oh, that reminds me. I want to leave this with you.” He reached for the gold ring that hung on the leather cord around his neck. “I want you to have it. You and Uru are my family, and Qart-hadasht is my home. With you two here, I have a place to come back to. In all my life, I’ve never had that. Our friendship means everything to me. It means that I can go away and come back to a real home.”

Hannu placed the ring around Amaal’s neck and nodded approvingly. Amaal closed her fist around it. She didn’t know if it was good for a wish, but she closed her eyes and made one that she hoped would last for many months and travel a long, long way.

When the time came for the fleet to set sail, everyone crowded along the shore to see them off. Clouds of incense filled the air. The sailors—those who, despite all efforts, had failed to set down roots in Qart-hadasht—came alive on the decks as they rushed about making final preparations. The Priestess prayed for the seaworthiness of the vessels, the skill and wisdom of the captains, and the health of the crews. Everyone joined in prayer, knowing all too well the real dangers the seafarers faced. The fleet raised their anchors and lowered their sails. Amaal and Uru spotted Hannu standing tall at the tiller on the Kaleva. The captain of the Phoenix, newly captain of the Kaleva, stood on the deck. Amaal and Uru and everyone on shore cried and waved and hollered well wishes and watched until the last visible dot of the fleet disappeared and Hannu was gone to sea on his great adventure.

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