Chapter 11.
Hakim paced back and forth, kneading his hands constantly as he spoke.
“Your highness, I understand your uncertainty. We both have much to loose if the other tribes get wind of this plan. But be assured, my absence is not seen as unusual. I often leave, sometimes for days. My people think nothing of it.”
“My concern is not that your absence will be noticed.” Shehat said as he filled his goblet. “It is your demeanor. You wear your thoughts all over your face. Look at you! Pacing the floor like a ram in heat.”
“Chief Priest please! Understand and be confident. The ten tribes are united behind ME, not Kushkamin, though he believes otherwise.”
Hakim stopped pacing. Turning his face full toward his conspirator, locking eyes with him, he continued.
“The lust for gold is not unlike the lust of the loins. A little now and then satisfies, but always it returns. Never is it enough.
“Kushkamin is a slave to his lust. He is like a hungry cur. Feed him a little and he will follow wherever you lead. As long as he believes he will continue to be fed, he will be loyal. In this respect he is no different than those who follow him.”
“Never the less, Hakim. He is no fool. A dog thinks only in the moment. You may think of him as a dog, but Kushkamin is a man. And men plan ahead. Men conspire.”
Hakim paused, smiling thinly. An eyebrow raised as he walked slowly back to the divan on which he had been sitting. Once again he composed himself.
“As it is with US, then!?” he said, again locking eyes with Shehat as he reached for his empty goblet.
“Assuredly so.” Shehat picked up the wine flask, gesturing it toward Hakim. “But OUR ‘conspiracy’ is not for a chest full of gold or a few pleasurable spasms of the gut. Together we will overthrow a dynasty. Then all that we desire will be ours forever. Not just for a fleeting moment. It will fall into our hands like wine into this chalice, and we will drink of it at our leisure.”
Shehat filled the goblet. The two men sat back and sipped, each absorbed in his own thoughts.
After a few quiet moments Hakim wiped his mouth before speaking.
“What then of the old hag?”
Shehat chuckled as he responded.
“The queen mother has no real power of her own. Only what she borrows from her son. When he is gone she will be left standing alone. All her gold, all her finery, all her screeching, will be of no benefit. She still believes she has influence over me as she once did when she was young and alluring, and her husband was still sucking wind. But her influence has diminished, as has her beauty. Now she can no longer cajole. She can only threaten. Be not concerned about her. She is but a bump in the road WE now travel together.”