Schisms

  Chapter Two

  Letters had been written and sealed and preparations had been made to make way for the delegation to Egi, a small land west of Hybron, ruled by vassal king, Tenan Seht. Falcons darkened the skies as they were sent to inform all the king's counselors and officials in all the cities and towns throughout the land of his plan to take a new queen.

  The capital, Egium, was a major trading center, second only to Yallas-by-the-Sea, the great port city in Zapulia, in the southeast. In the past these lands were once part of the kingdom of Hybron. Zapulia was once known by an older name, Ellah.

  Egi still remained under its authority and much of the grains, staples of the Hybronian diet, came in great caravans from Egi; teff, wheat, millet, barley and the most precious grain, rice. As it was difficult to grow rice in these arid lands, when one could grow rice, it commanded very high prices. Even higher than salt.

  Egi itself was a land of opposites. There was the great river Mowret. Thriving towns and fishing villages had grown along its banks because of the fertile land surrounding it and there was the soft beauty of tall, swaying date palms up and down the river. Farther north the land rose into steep, sharp mountains and crevices with streams that poured into the Mowret. Its most fortified and wealthiest city was Egium. The capital was built into the side of the rock face of a mountain that sat near small, crystal streams. The entrance was a narrow gorge that served as the passage way into the city with great walls of deep red rock, fearfully high, rising on either side. It was one of the great trading centers for merchants traveling by land and there was rarely a day that one did not see long lines of caravans streaming through the gorge.

  Hurrying on his way from the king's secretary he saw a fellow priest of the temple, Ilim, making his way down from the other end of the hall. The wild peoples called him a sage. He hated Ilim. He was the most contentious, disagreeable and foul-tempered man he had ever encountered and he often consorted with the wild peoples. He even smelled like them! However, Bakku, ever a man of refinement and manners, put on a wide grin and gave him a courteous head nod.

  “Greetings, my brother.” He said. As usual Ilim merely glowered and said nothing, sweeping past him. This pitched Bakku into a scarlet rage but he fought it down. He thinks himself better than his fellows! Better than me, even! This Ilim was beside himself with pride and rudeness. Bakku glared back to see Ilim turn the corner of the long hall and then he tip-toed down the hall to watch where Ilim was headed. As he'd suspected, Ilim was headed straight to the king's chambers. Of all the men in the kingdom, only Ilim was allowed to come and go into the king's presence without appointment or announcement, being a former friend to Khalit's family and a teacher and sage to the king's tribe. Such effrontery! One day you will pay for your insolence and disrespect, Ilim. He vowed. Ilim was a growing thorn in the side of the temple priests and always he found opportunity to display his raw contempt for the honored men, scribes and teachers at the temple, calling them “Corrupted and rotten.” – Ilim's favorite accusation. Had it not been for the king's affection for him, Ilim would have been barred from the temple. But things were in motion. Bakku could feel it, put his finger on the invisible line of event-movement, like a snake slipping under the sand along a dune. One day, Ilim would pay a high price for his disrespect.

  Bakku continued on his way, passing along one of the many wide balconies of the palace. It was a very hot mid-winter day. Uncharacteristically hot. An omen. The air smelled of spices, smoke, incense and mountains of burning flesh. The arenas were filled with the games all winter long and it infused the city with a special wildness and uncertainty in the air. The victors left with ladre, honor and love from the people, the losers left honor to their families and were ushered by the sun god's sister-wife, Hari, to the great halls of fire, or so the heathens believed. Corpses, human and animal were burned on the arena altar to Hec or in the case of the criminals who were deemed unworthy to fight in the arenas, they were swiftly executed and thrown in the eternal fires outside the city. Bakku made a warding sign as he thought of that accursed place. Across from the eastern edge of the palace from his vantage point was the great Golden Temple of the Aishanna-La. He made his way to his apartments. He would soon send for a messenger to keep his brothers of the temple abreast of the momentous news. He passed by the queen's apartments, glancing at the intricate latticework of the windows and mused at what her reaction would be to her new position. Witch! He wondered if she was even watching him through those maze decorated windows. He sneered at that thought. She was instrumental in putting the king at odds with the interests of the temple but she had finally fallen in favor. He felt a wicked surge of satisfaction in that. He'd thought this day would never come. Too bad it had not ended in an execution. But who knew? Bakku had no intention of leaving that string untied.

  “Your Greatness, Ilim has come.” Said a servant.

  “Bring him in.” The guard bowed low before the king and then to Ilim, ushering him into the king's private chamber. The doors to the balcony were wide open, letting what little breeze was left of the afternoon in.

  “Have someone fan us. Bring the large peacock fans, and something cold to drink.” Khalit said. A servant bowed and hurried off.

  “So what now, Ilim? Have you have come to scold me again?” The king picked at some dates in a jeweled bowl.

  “I have not come to scold. Your decisions are your own. Only that these games are becoming increasingly bloody and brutal.”

  “I see. You have come to scold. You do not approve of the fighting? Of the hunting games?”

  “I see no sense in them. I saw a great yaryebu brought from the far north. A magnificent beast! I had thought they no longer existed. You intend to slaughter this animal as well?”

  “I do, if it is what the people desire, and they do desire it. It makes them – and the sun god – happy. Keeps their minds off their troubles.”

  “Why do you not address their troubles instead? And why worship a god that demands such cruelty?”

  “What is cruelty? It is but the cry of the coward! I can see Him. He rides high in the sky, every day. He answers my prayers. He is not far off somewhere, invisible and distant. He requires courage whether it be in battle or in the arena. To show courage is to shed blood. To risk life! Savage beasts tearing men to pieces, men getting the mastery over wild beasts, the arena battles, wars! Nothing is held back! The smell of the blood, the roasted meat of bone, brains and sweat, the sight of torn flesh and the bloody maw; it is there in the open for the people to savor. No barricade exists between Hec and the savage beauty of life in the arenas. It is a fiery world with harshness and cruelty married to beauty and glory and we who worship him live in it from moment to moment!"

  “You think your tribesmen weak then? You think Hec is the only god that requires great courage? That war and bloodshed is the only courage, Khalit? Is it such a little matter to you that you have turned away from the true path?”

  “Do not trouble me with this again, Ilim! Your god is dead. He did not win me my throne, nor will he help me keep it. Besides, I have other matters to deal with.”

  “Do you not heed the prophecy? Is it for you to be king? Is not God the one who decides these things? Those who simply seize power are rarely fit for it.” The king's eyes blazed and he slammed his fist onto the table.

  “Watch yourself, Ilim! I am not one of those priests at the temple! I tolerate enough insolence from you but I will not tolerate treasonous words.” Khalit warned. Ilim bowed and changed the subject.

  “Caravans have arrived at the East Gate. The tribute from the vassals in the south has come. However, the salt caravan has not arrived.”

  “Why not?”

  “King Kufun is harrying the caravans crossing the Sidunna. There was a recent attack on one of the southern villages again. I have heard rumor that he is massing an army on the last island in the Gaspa.”

  “Tarkal.” The king sighed heavily. “He has recently finished building a for
tress city there, from what I have heard. I did not worry over it because it was so far away.”

  “It is far, but he has recently acquired drekar.” Said Ilim. The king heaved another a deep sigh. He stroked his beard.

  “I wonder. An entire fleet of drekar in the South Lands. I had only heard tales of such ships in the far cold West Lands, where no men I know will go. Yet, he has acquired them. Small wonder his raiders are able to get to the southern coast so quickly. I will put a stop to him soon enough. There is a plan in motion, Ilim. I have made a momentous decision.” Ilim raised his brow.

  “You may not like it, though you rarely approve of anything I do. I am planning to put aside the current queen and I am taking a new one.” Ilim was genuinely surprised. His mouth opened, wordlessly, turning into an 'oh'. He did not speak for a while as the realization sank in. Khalit watched him closely.

  “She has not given me a son, Ilim.”

  “But the queen is a good and virtuous woman. And besides, you have many healthy sons already!”

  “None of them born from a queen.”

  “Since when has that ever been an impediment to kingship?”

  “It is an impediment when a king must secure his line amidst upheaval. Since I have sat upon the throne I have had nothing but uprisings, rebellions and raiders from the south and the east. Bastards can sit on the throne and rule without care when times are easy.”

  “But she is of noble birth! Will you just cast her aside as if she were a rag?”

  “I have no choice, Ilim. I know what people say, the nobles of the city. Savage! A tyrant who would be a king! Usurper! I know what they whisper.”

  “You did take away their power, my king.”

  “They were no better. How is a city-state ruled by nobles better than a king? They pretend to have some knowledge and refinement but they desire power just as I do. I do not pretend to anything.”

  “It must be said, though the nobles hate you, the people love their king.”

  “That is what matters to me. So, I give the people what they want. Blood and bone for sport, grain in their bowls and meat in their cooking pots.”

  “Say what they might about you, you are no bastard, my king.” Said Ilim.

  “It does not change the fact that my sons are. I need a younger, fertile queen. I will not treat Diti poorly. I have never abused her. You know that, but I must do this in the interests of my legacy. In the interests of peace and security.” The king said with finality. Ilim sighed. This was not good news to his mind but everything this year boded ill. Winter had come and gone like a gazelle and spring had not arrived, yet it was unusually hot, even for Hybron. It was the month of Lali, a winter month, yet it was as hot and dry as the month of Yin. It was going to be a very long summer and very long summers, Ilim noted, always signaled great trouble in the land. Khalit had completely abandoned the old ways. Once a man of the Karig got married, he married for life. He could marry as many women as he could afford but putting away a mate was a serious offense to the tribe, to the families involved and to God. But Khalit did not worship the god of the Aishanna-La any longer and Diti's natural family were long dead. There was no one to stand for the queen's honor and matters of kingdom politics and wealth mattered far more than honor in Jhis. Ilim had tutored him and taught him from infancy the Holy Writings. Trouble. A great sadness washed over him but he pulled himself together as he heard the doors open. Servants came in bringing massive, wide feathered peacock fans and stationed themselves by the king's chair. Others came in with trays of delicate ewers of ice cold wines, goblets and bowls of sherbets with iced fruit.

  “Let us retire to the balcony.” Said the king and the small train followed him out to his favorite spot, a slim, lacquered bone table amidst stone benches littered with embroidered throws and pillows. Thin veils hung from the balcony rooftop to keep out the insects and protect from the sun's heat. The trays were set before them and the fans began gently waving on either side. Khalit poured some iced, soured milk for himself and mixed in some plum juice. He could not stand the refined wines of the cities. At least with that, Ilim noticed with approval, he was still a tribesman. Ilim took an iced plum and sucked on it. His eyes were drawn to the Golden Temple with its gold-tipped towers and dome. Thick columns of incense smoke streamed from the vents of its central dome. He had serious business at the temple soon enough. Anger rose in him and he quelled it by taking a deep breath and averting his eyes from it. He turned to the king.

  “Does she know yet?” The king glanced at the servants and made a hand signal.

  “Leave us!” The servants bowed and scurried away. “No.”

  “And who will the new queen be?”

  “Perhaps a Strab chieftain's daughter from Egi. I am sending Bakku to Egi to see about the matter more fully.” Ilim frowned. However, he did not permit himself runaway thoughts. Khalit was fickle when it came to women. It had been difficult to convince him to marry in the first place and right after he wedded Diti he took many concubines. He could very well find some reason to put this new wife away also, if she displeased him.

  “She lives in Egium. Her father is ancient, but very wealthy. The dowry can be used for rebuilding the treasury. What I can gain from her family is more ladre to buy what I need to build up my army. The chieftain has a small army of valiant, mighty men of his own. I will add them to my own army if I think the match satisfactory. If what I hear and see about this woman does not satisfy me, there are others.”

  “And Bakku, who has been urgently arguing her case in front of you for many months now is in charge? Do you think you will receive a dispassionate report on her?”

  “I would send you if I could. I know you would tell me the truth, Ilim. However, I have others in the delegation who will balance Bakku's praise with a cooler opinion. Even if she is ugly or unacceptable in some way, there is the more important question of ladre. I need to rebuild the treasury.”

  “If you are building up your army then I suppose the tribute has come just in time.” As much as he hated to see it happen it was inevitable. The queen had not given the king any children. Why had not God seen fit to bless the marriage with sons? He wondered.

  “Indeed.” Said the king, sipping his wine. Ilim looked out across the city. He was sure after having seen Bakku slithering down the hall that somehow the entire Ainash priesthood was behind this. They disliked the current queen and had worked toward her downfall from the beginning. It seemed to him that there was no devilry they were not behind. Yet, Ilim could sense that many forces were at work. He would have to talk with Queen Diti. It had been some time since he had spoken with her. She was a holy woman and perceptive, for a woman. Perhaps there was some reason why she had not borne children beyond what he could ascertain. If Ilim was right about things, it was likely that she already knew what was coming.