As Isceradin led Sukamek through the camp, the Inu’naabe kept stopping to marvel at the sights along the way, like he was a little child being taken to the festival for the first time in his life. When they passed a campfire with a huge hunk of beef roasting on a spit, Sukamek stood there gasping with widened eyes, outstretching his arms to measure the meat’s breadth. Were there no cattle here in this part of the world? There must have been deer in the woods, at least.
With the cook’s permission, Isceradin sliced off a strip of the beef and gave it to Sukamek. The Inu’naabe tore into it with the same eager hunger that Phameas had shown toward the red berries back at the village. Another by the campfire offered him a cup of wine, but when he drank it, Sukamek spewed it out in a violent eruption through his lips. Everyone watching exploded into laughter.
“At least you’re not at risk of drinking yourself silly,” Isceradin said after he gave his guest a gentle slap on the back.
Another campfire they walked by had an ensemble of musicians performing, with Numidians hammering on drums while Iberians shook castanets and a Gallic woman plucked at her harp. Their Carthaginian audience clapped and sang alongside their entertainers, and so did Sukamek, who bounced on his feet while thrashing his arms in dance. As much as Isceradin wanted to let the native have fun, he had something even greater to show him, so he had to interrupt the music with a blow of his whistle to summon his visitor.
Right beyond the northern end of the encampment, there rested the second-largest ship in the fleet, a colossal galley with a deckhouse as big as a farmer’s barn. Without any time yet to erect a stable on land, this would be where they kept the elephants. Similar but smaller ships that lay next to it would be carrying the horses and other livestock, but Isceradin knew what would make the biggest impact on his indigenous invitee’s imagination.
Already, the Inu’naabe was running his gaze up and down the vessel’s height as well as along its length. Compared to the bark canoes his people had moored back at the river beside his village, the great Carthaginian boat must have seemed like impossible monstrosities. And that was without him even knowing what it had in store!
On Isceradin’s command, they went up the gangplank onto the ship’s deck, the timbers of which creaked beneath their feet. With the sky having gone black a while ago, the only light that allowed them to see came from a bronze lantern one of the crewmen on board held. He pushed the door to the deckhouse open, letting out the intense stench of animal dung. Isceradin had to whistle twice to get Sukamek to follow him inside.
The lantern’s flickering flame revealed twenty stalls, eight on the left and right side each and four at the back. Within each stall slept at least one elephant, although a couple had calves alongside their mothers. Their snoring was a rhythmic rumble echoing within the deckhouse. As he and Sukamek went to one of the stalls nearest them, Isceradin heard the native utter something under his breath with a dropped jaw.
The elephant they had approached was a bull named Mago, in honor of one of Hannibal Barca’s brothers. Even as far as elephants went, he was a hulking giant, reaching no less than twelve feet high from foot to scalp, almost as high as the ceiling. From his face swept down a pair of tusks that scratched the straw-littered floor whenever he swayed his head. Resting along his short neck were fan-like ears as big as men were tall.
While facing Sukamek, Isceradin laid a hand on the bull elephant’s trunk, careful not to press too hard on the sensitive skin lest he awaken the beast. “Elephant.”
“Elephant,” the Inu’naabe repeated.
He took a step back with a shiver even though it was only a little chilly outside. The sight of such an alien, immense creature must have filled the poor man with nervous dread. If Isceradin knew how to say it in Sukamek’s language, he would tell his guest that these animals were only plant-eaters that would attack only when provoked.
Sukamek stepped backward again, producing a loud creak from the floorboard beneath his foot. Mago’s eyelids parted as he let out an agitated rumble, pawing the floor with his foreleg. The other elephants in the deckhouse followed suit, with some trumpeting while spreading out their ears. A crewman hurried to stroke the big bull’s trunk while murmuring phrases to calm the animal down.
Isceradin picked up an apple from one of the big jars that sat by the deckhouse entrance and gave it to Sukamek, pointing at the elephant while gnashing his teeth in imitation of chewing. After his host repeated the gesture to clarify his meaning, the native tiptoed toward the creature and held the apple out to it, still trembling with visible terror. Mago rubbed the fruit with the tip of his trunk and then plopped it into his mouth, chewing it with a satisfied moan. His ears went back to resting against his neck while he thanked the Inu’naabe with an affectionate pat of his trunk. Sukamek giggled like it was tickling him.
“I think he’ll come to like you,” Isceradin said.
After they exited the deckhouse and disembarked from the ship, Sukamek touched his own breast while pointing his thumb to the forest to the west. It must have meant he had seen enough and was ready to go home. He then tapped his finger on the falcata Isceradin had sheathed by his hip.
“Oh, this?” Isceradin took the sword out of its scabbard and laid it in his guest’s hands. “I can always get another one from our supplies. But do take good care of it, will you?”
After rubbing his finger over its edge, Sukamek slipped the weapon underneath the thong holding up his trousers and gave his host a bow of the head. “Lapich knewel, Isceradin.”
Isceradin did not need to guess what that phrase meant. “Farewell to you, Sukamek of the Inu’naabe.”
He watched as his new friend disappeared back into the black wall of the forest. Whatever one had to call the residents of this new land, they did not seem so bad. So far, they had received him and his people with open arms and gifts of food, without any threat of violence or distrust. That was more than could be said for the barbarians back in Gaul, or for many of those back across the sea.
Nonetheless, one had to account for that skeleton Isceradin and his scouts had found in the woods, the one that had been speared to death. Who was that man, and whom would his people have been if not the Inu’naabe?