Trampling in the Land of Woe_Book One of Three

by William Galaini

  “No, I didn’t want any communication channels to lead to me. I intended to get past Minos and head directly into the pit as fast as able.”

  “With no food or provisions.”

  “Food is a luxury in the afterlife we can all do without.”

  “Says the man enjoying a cup of the best tea he’s ever tasted. So, you would go and find Alexander. What then? Reunion?”

  “Rescue.”

  Yitz’s smirk returned, but larger this time. His stool creaked as he leaned back. “Ah, so that’s it. That’s what’s got them riled—the Jesuits. They see that sort of thing as a direct affront to God. They’d never permit it; they would sooner jar your heart and put it on a shelf with a plaque.”

  “Like you said, few faces were set in stone as often as mine was. I was even on the currency of the empire. I would have been recognized by the dock masters immediately.”

  “But they wouldn’t have known you were going to-to—you could have just been a visitor. We get lots of famous visitors.”

  “I would have been followed and too high profile.”

  Yitz chuckled and rubbed his eyes. “Sadly, you happened to cross Minos’s path just when The Peruvian was holding court. Not only have you set the streets atwitter with your heroics but you’ve also managed to make me and that annoying Christian two of the richest people in The After. So you couldn’t possibly be higher profile. Adina has been turning away people pleading for loans. We had to put a sign up in every language we could write, telling callers to go away. We haven’t had a moment’s peace since yesterday when you plopped onto the floor.”

  “You’re blaming me for your sudden fortune? Well then, I’m so sorry for your wealth.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “But then, thanks to me, you have the resources to aid me. I need proper armor, maps to replace those lost, and a spear. A spear fit for Greek hands.”

  “You’re making demands while lying naked between our linens and sipping our tea?”

  “I would stand and make them, but this room is too small.”

  The door swung open, jolting the tea tray in Yitz’s possession.

  Adina’s head poked in, her unibrow furrowed in stern disapproval. “You two fools stop it, or I’ll come in there.” She withdrew, and the door slammed shut.

  The two men sat in cowed silence, blinking at each other.

  “That is my lovely Adina,” Yitz proclaimed, no doubt so Adina could hear.

  “She does seem lovely. And she makes a wonderful cup of tea,” Hephaestion offered.

  “The men chasing us are piles of ash. She burned them with divine fire manifested from her faith.”

  “I’ve heard that the Heavenbound can do feats like that.”

  “Be nice to her.”

  “What of the men she incinerated? Will they or their kin come for revenge?”

  “Likely not. Family or servants from their estates brushed them up with dust pans, and, in about forty years when they re-congealed, they will be by to apologize to her.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You don’t know my wife. They will be bringing wine from their private stores, if we’re lucky.”

  “Dinner is ready!” Adina called from behind the door. “Get that man some proper clothes.”

  Yitz rolled his eyes. “You’ll forgive me. The only thing that will fit you is my bathing robe, but it will go down to your thighs at least.” Yitz stood and fetched a garish, paper-thin linen with green leaves embroidered on the collar. “Not that you really need bother. Adina spent an inordinate amount of time dressing your wounds and bathing you,” he whispered.

  “If you have a problem, dear husband, with my tending to our guest then perhaps you’d like to discuss it over dinner!” she shrilled from beyond.

  “Damn!”

  Hephaestion realized his good fortune. A complete stroke of luck had befallen him. Despite his failure at Minos’s court, he had managed to land among friendly people. Ulfric had warned endlessly of the streets of New Dis and its brutal politics; Hephaestion had planned to circumvent the place altogether. By traveling with the body of a glutton, Hephaestion had hoped to already be several circles down into the pit by now.

  “Beware, Hepher,” Ulfric would prattle while they sat by the fire, looking at the constellations in the crisp night sky of Purgatory. “People in that city would snatch you up to ransom off to Alexander’s Earthly enemies. You think kings get over having their nations taken from them by two boys?”

  When Hephaestion sat at the dinner table, the robe rode up his thigh, the slit in the side nearly to his hip. Being naked would have been more comfortable, but he wasn’t sure that would be a good idea given Yitz’s voiced concerns.

  Adina “tsked” as she set a large brass pot at the center of the table. “You two will be going shopping for men’s clothes. I’ve adjusted the budget conservatively to accommodate for my husband’s despicable winnings. A proper suit or two and whatever you might need for your journey.”

  Yitz’s eyes lit up.

  “You listened at the door to all of our conversation, then?” Hephaestion grinned.

  “You are in my house. Every drape and stick of furniture reports back to me,” she said while setting a fresh kettle to boil. “I’m glad you like the tea.”

  The three ate in silence. Tender lamb soaked in a peachy spice melted on Hephaestion’s tongue. “I used to eat lamb back at home.”

  “Home being Purgatory?” Adina asked.

  “Yes. You are Heavenbound? My friend, Ulfric is also Heavenbound.”

  “People taking you in seems to be a theme, Lord Hephaestion. Are you always in need of rescue?”

  “Darling, please be mindful and be polite to our guest. He murders people. Lots of them,” Yitz pleaded, mouth full.

  “But he’s a good sort. He’s going to rescue his commander and king. Out of duty?” Her eyes were.keen.

  Hephaestion’s eyebrows bent into a confession, and the corner of his mouth perked into a grin.

  “Lovers,” Adina continued, satisfied. “Some say you two outgrew it, but others say that Roxana only conceived because both of you were in the bed chamber.”

  “Woman!” roared Yitz, meat and vegetables spewing from his mouth. “Despite being a heavenly creature, you occasionally don’t act like one!”

  “And aren’t you grateful for it, husband?” she fired back at him. “I think it noble, and understandable, but foolish…this endeavor of yours, Lord Hephaestion. Naïve. I think that, even after two thousand years, you haven’t learned much in Purgatory. Maybe your Heavenbound sponsor is to blame. Maybe you’re just that stubborn and stuck in the past. Either way, you’re going into the pit with or without our help, so you might as well have it.”

  Hephaestion straightened, fork down, and nodded gratefully.

  Yitz patted Hephaestion’s knee in affirmation. “But you’re going to do something for us. We have a son down in the pit. You will find him, and you will tell him that we love him and wait for him. Do not free him. He must finish his time and solve his own soul’s dilemma. But you must find him. Perhaps the nudge from a stranger, the reminder that he is even now still adored, will be enough to speed his salvation.”

  Another layer of difficulty lengthened his quest, and the closer he got to knowing that Alexander would be in his arms, the farther away the reality seemed. His shoulders tensed and heart raced at the thought of waiting even longer to see Alexander, to ensure his freedom. But these people had been kind, and they offered more than Hephaestion could hope for. It was the only way to repay their kindness and Hephaestion scolded himself for his selfish feelings.

  “I’ll need maps, gear, and real steel. A spear. I’ll also need to know everything I can about your boy, and where to find him.”

  “He, uh, betrayed his synagogue,” Yitz confessed, his voice small, as
Adina looked away. “He embezzled money and burned the building down to hide the evidence—he was never caught on Earth. We know he is in the pit, but we are unsure of where or on what circle he resides, though betrayers...”

  Hephaestion gave a nod of sympathy to spare Yitz from finishing the sentence. “Let’s take it a step at a time, then. I need my strength back, and I’m useless without a spear.”

  Chapter 10

  The following day, a courier came to the door. A polite, short man in simple dress and armed with flintlock pistols tucked into his belt, he delivered an envelope. The thick velum contained a promise of future payment from The Peruvian for seven talents of gold, allocated over a two-hundred-year period.

  Adina went pale, and Yitz fainted. Then they began planning future enterprises.

  As for Hephaestion, after several days of roasted meats, crisp vegetables, and soothing tea, he could get about on his own with the aid of a cane. Plain and thin, the walking stick was adorned with a bone handle and stood only half his height. But he felt empowered having something in his grip again.

  “We’ll keep you bundled up a bit,” Adina cooed, doting over him. “And here’s a hood to keep you hidden. Are you warm enough? You still barely have enough meat on you.”

  “Woman!” Yitz protested. “You wouldn’t coddle him if you’d seen him opening people up like I did!”

  “I don’t mind a little coddling,” Hephaestion confessed.

  “Of course you don’t. We all need taken care of from time to time. Even codgerly old gamblers,” she said, her sly gaze landing on Yitz. “Still, we want to keep you under wraps. I have two friends who will go to the tailor with us. They will keep you safe, and most will keep their distance as we make our way there and back. Oh, and if you are feeling weak in the knees, just lean on Yitz.”

  “Per usual,” Yitz grumbled.

  The narrow, creaky stairwell that led down to the street reminded Hephaestion of The Bonny Sweetheart’s deck, the wood boards a bright oak. Thinking of Ulfric, Hephaestion wondered if he should hire a messenger to bear a letter to Purgatory in the hopes that he might put the Viking’s worries at ease.

  The door to the street opened, and Hephaestion, still deep in thought, nearly ran into a short woman wearing a crimson niqab. Her full-length gown had been embroidered with geometric patterns that morphed into butterflies, and a strange writing he thought might be an ancient Persian language decorated both sleeves. Through the narrow opening in the veil, wise green eyes met his.

  Arrested by the piercing of her eyes, Hephaestion nearly dropped his cane.

  Yitz gestured to the stranger. “This is Minu. Minu, this is Hephaestion.”

  “Yes, I know…. Yitz, it seems your friends have started to become handsome. Perhaps your loathsome hobby of gambling isn’t the sin we thought it was?” she chided with a rich, youthful voice. Nudging herself between Yitz and Hephaestion, she hooked both her hands around Hephaestion’s elbow. “I’ll help you along, young warrior. Yitz should hold hands with his wife. It’s only right. And you won’t be needing the cane.” She snagged the item from Hephaestion’s grasp before he could protest. “Just one foot in front of the other. This is hardly the first time you’ve died now, is it?”

  Within a moment, they seemed to glide across the street, her hands gently propelling him forward and somehow steadying him. His legs felt alive and aware, and each of his steps seemed to carry less gravity. Minu’s gaze never left his face, and her warmth buoyed him.

  The street wasn’t particularly busy; New Dis was a city that never slept, but days did have down times. A few stragglers milled about, pushing carts or hurrying from one business to another.

  Minu helped Hephaestion effortlessly ascend the berm.

  A second woman appeared before him, tall and muscled with blue swirls marbling her pale skin. A thick brown braid crowned the top of her otherwise shaven head. She appeared as mighty and imposing as any sword hand he’d ever seen. He counted four blades sheathed on her body, the largest of which was a gladius on her left hip, hilt forward. He suspected the design of the scabbard was Roman, but he couldn’t know the blade’s design for certain unless he saw the naked steel. He wasn’t eager to do so.

  “Boudica, meet Hephaestion, Lover and Chief Companion to Alexander the Great,” Minu said, patting Hephaestion’s arm.

  Boudica’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not impressed with conquerors,” she said flatly. “But Adina likes you, and that’s good enough for me. For now.”

  Yitz and Adina, hands swinging between the two of them, followed.

  “We’re going to head down the street three blocks and then go right. We’re headed to Ancien Tailoring,” Adina revealed quietly, looking about.

  The three women nodded in agreement. Boudica spun on her heel and marched ahead at least forty steps, and then maintained a steady pace. Minu and Hephaestion followed her just within earshot, and, soon after them, Adina and Yitz straggled along, caution informing their movements.

  Minu strolled along without concern, her fingers locked around Hephaestion’s elbow. “If I know my history correctly, you were married?”

  “Before I died, I was married to a lovely woman named Drypetis. She was royalty.”

  “How is she?”

  “She is in Heaven, I believe.”

  “And why are you not striving to be with her?”

  Hephaestion’s tongue stilled. Minu’s tone held innocence and curiosity; he couldn’t determine if she was testing him or merely inquisitive.

  “My King is down there, and he needs me.”

  “How does your wife feel about this?” Her verdant eyes missed nothing.

  “Drypetis knew when we married. It was political, our marriage.”

  Minu’s gaze locked onto him. “And Alexander? How does he feel?”

  “He is the Achilles to my Patroclus,” he offered simply.

  Despite her small stature, she suddenly intimidated him. “Please be careful, Hephaestion,” she said finally, sweetness still in her voice. “You seem to be a man with good intentions. And while I’m sure you are familiar with the phrase, I’ll say it to you: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Beware, Hephaestion.” Her eyes sought the horizon as her hand stroked his arm gently once more.

  Sputtering carriages and delivery bicycles wheeled in front of their path, stopping for the occasional gaggle of well-dressed women with parasols twirling in displays of color.

  “Lavender is very much in style,” Minu said with a tinge of jealousy. “But if I kept up with style, I’d be sewing endlessly. I’ll stay with red.”

  “What does your robing say? In the stitching?”

  “It says ‘Allah is my anvil. Faith is my hammer. I am my steel.’ It is my creed.”

  “I’ve never heard anything like that before. What does it mean? Allah is God, so I understand that God is constant and unmoving, like an anvil. But I don’t get the rest,” Hephaestion confessed.

  A break in traffic allowed Boudica to cross first. She glared down any motorist or driver who might get in their way as Minu and Hephaestion followed, Adina and Yitz steps behind.

  “You understand the anvil: the notion of God’s unending power. Passive might. Our faith we wield, striking the iron. Some wield faith poorly, their grip weak and their blow hollow. Perhaps missing the iron entirely. We are responsible for the hammer’s motion. We are responsible for how we wield faith. And as for the iron, well…some iron is just poor. Brittle, filled with black pockets, or not malleable. In the end, what we forge ourselves into is a synthesis of the iron, the hammer, and the anvil.”

  “So, what have you forged yourself into?” Hephaestion pried, enjoying the philosophy of the metaphor.

  “I haven’t cooled on the anvil yet. I’ve been out of the fire for some time. I remain hot because I keep striking with my faith. Perhaps I’ll decide on a fin
al form while I am here, in New Dis. Maybe a cane, perhaps? I seem to be doing the job well enough.”

  Hephaestion nodded in grateful agreement.

  “Or a bladed weapon, maybe?” she continued. “We often forge ourselves into what we think is needed now, don’t we, Hephaestion? A lover. A warrior. A general. A savior. An infiltrator. The question you must ask is, how will you know when your hammer is done striking? Will you be able to temper your steel? Are you willing to?”

  Silence lingered as Hephaestion searched the ground for what to say next. After a moment, he decided that no response was the correct one, and he considered her question instead. Was he a spearhead? Was it faith that drove the steel against the anvil, or was it desire and desperation? Was he really holding the hammer, or did he hand the hammer over to circumstance? Was Alexander still swinging the hammer, even after centuries, or had he cooled in the pit, his will lost to hopelessness?

  “We’re here,” Boudica announced. “I’ll wait outside. You four go do your shopping. I’ll call if there’s an issue.”

  Adina thanked her with a nod and led everyone inside.

  A tiny bell over the door, silver polished so it was nearly white, announced their entrance. The floors of the antechamber were of polished white stone with red mortar. Inviting furniture of spiraling brass and plush cushions graced the room. Fleur-de-lis patterned in gold thread decorated the tapestries lining the walls, tassels dripping to the floor.

  The anticipation of their arrival was evidenced by the two servants, both bewigged and elegant in white blouses and brocade waistcoats, holding trays with wine. Adina and Yitz nodded their approval and took a glass each, but, when Hephaestion saw Minu decline, he did the same.

  Her eyes twinkled at him. “Sip wine if you wish, Grecian,” she whispered playfully. “Your people practically invented it. But don’t mention that here. These people are French and show no signs of recovering.”