Danio's horse galloped down the overheated track leading to the Abode of the Lion, a settlement in southern Syria founded by the illustrious pharaoh Seti. Egyptian on his father's side and Syrian on his mother's, Danio had chosen the honorable profession of postman, eventually specializing in priority dispatches. The government furnished the horse, along with food and clothing; Danio also qualified for housing in Sile, an outpost on the northeastern frontier, as well as free lodging in post houses. In short, a good life; constant travel and romances with Syrian girls who were ready and willing, if sometimes too interested in settling down. The moment things started getting serious, the postman was gone.

It was in his stars. Shortly after his birth, Danio's parents had the village astrologer cast his horoscope, which showed he would be a wanderer. He hated feeling tied down, even by an enticing mistress. He lived for the open road.

Reliable and efficient, he received excellent performance reviews, never having misplaced a single piece of mail and often making an extra effort to expedite an urgent message. The postal service was truly his calling.

When Ramses assumed the throne after Seti's death, Danio had misgivings. Like many of his countrymen, he feared the young pharaoh had the makings of a warlord and might try to reassert Egypt's regional dominance. Ramses had spent the first four years of his reign on an ambitious round of projects-- enlarging the temple of Luxor, completing the gigantic colonnade at Karnak, breaking ground for his Eternal Temple, and building a new capital, Pi-Ramses, in the Delta. Yet he had not veered from his father's foreign policy, the centerpiece of which was a mutual nonaggression pact with Egypt's arch-enemy, the Hittites. This warlike people from the windswept plateaus of Anatolia seemed less intent than usual on conquering Egypt and challenging their claim to Syria.

The future was looking rosy until Danio noted a dramatic increase in the military correspondence between Pi-Ramses and the fortresses along the Way of Horus. He had asked his supervisors about it and quizzed the officers he met; no one knew anything, but there was talk of unrest in northern Syria and even the Egyptian-controlled province of Amurru.[*]

[*The site of modern-day Lebanon.]

Evidently the messages Danio delivered were intended to alert frontier post commanders along the Way of Horus.

Thanks to Seti's military ability, Canaan,[*] Amurru, and Syria now formed a vast buffer zone between the warring empires. Of course, the local overlords bore careful watching and required the occasional reminder. Nubian gold was the remedy of choice when loyalties shifted with the winds of change. The presence of Egyptian troops and their military parades on state occasions was another effective means of preserving the fragile peace.

[*Canaan included Palestine and Phoenicia.]

In times past, the forts along the Way of Horus had more than once barred their doors and sealed off the northeastern border. The Hittites had never ventured this far south, and by now the fear of hard fighting had dissipated.

So Danio remained hopeful; the Hittites had respect for the Egyptian army, and the Egyptians feared their enemy's violence and cruelty. Neither party would emerge unscathed from direct confrontation. It was therefore in the best interest of both to maintain the status quo and confine themselves to a war of words. Ramses, absorbed in his grandiose building program, had no intention of provoking a fight. Danio thundered past the marker that showed he was entering the Abode of the Lion's dependent farmland. Suddenly he pulled up short and retraced his path: something looked wrong.

The postman dismounted next to the marker.

He noted indignantly that the point of the stone slab had been damaged and several hieroglyphs defaced. The magical inscription, no longer legible, had lost the power to protect the site. The vandals would be severely punished; tampering with a royal stela was punishable by death.

The postman realized that he was the first to stumble upon the desecration. He would lose no time reporting it to the regional commander, who would bring it to the pharaoh's immediate attention.

A brick wall surrounded the complex, with two sphinxes guarding the main entrance. The postman froze in his tracks: the ramparts lay in ruins, the sphinxes lay on their sides, mutilated.

The Abode of the Lion had been attacked.

No sound issued from the settlement, usually so animated with infantry drills, horse training, discussions around the fountain in the center of town, noisy children, braying donkeys ... the eerie silence caught at Danio's throat. He uncorked his drinking gourd and took a cooling swig.

Curiosity won out over fear. He should have turned back and alerted the nearest garrison, but he had to see for himself. Danio knew almost everyone in town, from the commander to the innkeeper. He had friends here.

Danio's horse whinnied and bucked; stroking his neck, the postman soothed him. Still, the beast refused to take one step forward.

Danio made his way toward the silent town on foot.

Grain bins slashed, jars shattered. Nothing was left of the stores of food and drink.

The small two-story houses lay in ruins; not a single one had escaped the attackers' fury, not even the governor's residence.

Not one wall of the town's small temple stood intact. The divine likeness had been hacked at and beheaded.

And still the thick, oppressive silence.

Dead donkeys floated in the well; by the fountain, the remains of a bonfire where furniture and documents had been piled and burned.

The smell.

A clinging, sickening stench sent him in the direction of the meat market, on the north side of the complex, beneath a broad, shaded portico, where animals were butchered, carcasses cooked in a huge cauldron, fowl roasted on spits. A busy place where the postman liked to eat lunch once his messages were delivered.

When he saw them, Danio stopped breathing.

They were all there: soldiers, tradesmen, craftsmen, old people, women, children, babies. Heaped on top of each other, their throats slit. The governor had been impaled, the three officers hung from the crossbeams.

On a wooden pillar, Hittite script proclaimed: Victory to the army of Muwattali, powerful sovereign of Hatti. Thus shall all of his enemies perish.

Hittite commandos-- a typical bloodthirsty raid, leaving no survivors. But this time they had pushed past their sphere of influence and struck close to the border of Egypt's northeastern provinces.

A sick panic swept over him. What if the Hittite strike force was still on the prowl?

Danio backed away, still staring dumbly at the horrid spectacle. Such cruelty-- taking human life without a thought for a decent burial-- was beyond comprehension.

The postman staggered toward the main gate and the toppled sphinxes. His horse had disappeared.

He anxiously scanned the horizon for any sign of the Hittite raiders.

Chariots ... chariots heading in his direction!

Wild with terror, Danio ran as fast as his feet would carry him.