Alt.History 102 (The Future Chronicles)

by Samuel Peralta

  They denied Tanit of Many Names and Baal Hamon, Shepherd of Man. They claimed their Lord, who was born with the sun on the shortest day, would save all from the tyranny of the many gods and the few. That he would slay the bull and, as Sol Invictus, ensure the sun would continue to rise.

  Elissa Barca, princess and priestess of Carthage, could do nothing but direct men to wash off the blood and scrub the graffiti from the walls. The Warriors, monotheists all, were many and few, hard to find and even harder to break and so the city continued as if they had never disturbed the night.

  Elissa was sitting reading when a young neophyte disturbed her peace, looking like a mouse confronted by a cat.

  “Priestess?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a man here to see you.”

  “Attis?”

  “No.” The girl looked uncomfortable. “He says his an emissary of Mithras. He demands an audience.”

  “The leader of the Warriors?”

  “So he says.”

  “Let him in.”

  The man was almost feral, she looked at him and didn’t see a deity but a mortal man. He was middle-aged, gruff, and wearing robes that looked like they would scuff his skin from his bones. Ah but yes, to some suffering was a sign of piety, of faith. He looked like a man who had known pain, who had grown up starving and been broken by some terrible and harrowing event that lingered in his eyes.

  “I’m Elissa Barca, High Priestess of Tanit’s temple,” She said, though the introduction was sheer formality. He knew her. “Why did you ask to see me?”

  “You deserve to know the truth, just like the others of this city.” He said, voice calm and cold. There was no fanaticism in him, just rationality.

  She indicated a pew, regretting her decision to slip out of her vestments. She felt underdressed, naked without them for what was going to be an event of some importance. “Then sit, let us talk. Who are you?”

  “I surrendered my name when I lost my wife to labour and my newborn child to your false goddess.”

  “What?” she asked, sounding as shocked as she felt.

  “I was a devout man, my son was ill so I brought him to the temple, to see if Tanit might heal him. Instead he vanished and I never saw him again. Not even a body to bury.” His eyes hardened. “That was when my eyes were opened to the falsehoods. Now we Warriors of Mithras wish to grant vision to the people of this city, to free them from the tyranny of liars.”

  “Why now?”

  “The sooner the people are liberated from this heresy your dynasty insist on supporting, the better.”

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your wife and child, I truly am.” Elissa said, choosing her words were care. “But the peace of Carthage is my concern. Tanit will not allow you to disrupt Her city.”

  “You think she’ll save you?” The wild man chuckled, as if she were some child who had no understanding of the adult world and his words burned her even after the man had gone from the temple back to where he’d come from.

  * * *

  Doubt, insidious, is a bitter weed,

  It grows and strangles the life from hope.

  Yet in doubt there is growth, there is truth,

  Even for a priestess devout in her goddess

  Or a man twisted by loss and grief.

  — From The Elissiad

  Elissa found herself dwelling on the Wild Man longer than she might usually have considered audiences. She smelled the ozone a minute before Attis walked into the room, it had almost become his signature in the numerous years she’d known him. He used some magic, some ability of the gods, to arrive in the city without moving.

  There was a side street where he would appear and often used as a short cut because it led directly to the temple gates, through alleys smelling of fish, cooking meats, rotting fruit and human shit where the sewers backed up with the unseasonal rains that had drenched the city several weeks before and then left behind days of drought and summer sickness. Those scents followed him, cut by the smell of electricity and magic.

  Despite the technology of the goddess, the gifts which powered lights, the water purification and the medicines, the city still seemed to have one foot in the pre-visitation times; it was almost as if a small part of humanity, the child-like essence of them, enjoyed the mud and squalor.

  The heat wasn’t helping. Elissa had watched brawls simmering up on street corners or in the market, over the simplest things like the price of fruit. It felt like these occurrences were a plague spreading over the city, becoming more common with every passing day.

  Attis walked in, wearing clothes such as those worn by any of the aristocracy, and looking like a high-born member of the city. The sharp smell of the magic he’d used clung to his skin and his clothing, and was the only thing which marked him out as something else. He was taller than she, hair covering the ears and horns she loved to touch, to run her fingers over. He’d cringed the first time she did it, as if he were ashamed or just embarrassed. It was his mark of divinity which set him apart from the humans of this city, and the one thing that he tried so hard to hide as he walked among them.

  “Lord Attis?”

  She moved across the lamp-lit hall, her skin caught in the candlelight—a nod to the city before the gods came—of the temple’s inner hall.

  “Priestess Elissa.” He nodded his head in greeting, the human tongue flowing from his lips like water from a pump, following her lead with fake formality. “How fares the day?”

  “The day is only just born, I think it’s too early to tell.” Elissa replied, her tone polite and reverent, waiting for that moment when the politeness would snap, when they would admit to themselves that there was more. “I missed you, Attis, my bed is always lonely when you leave me in the depths of the night.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “Always.”

  They stepped together, the kiss profane and sweet, so like the hundreds which had preceeded it. She wondered, if Tanit knew, would she approve? Did the gods care about such fickle small things as love between mortal and god? It didn’t matter, his lips were warm, his embrace all-encompassing and she looked into his all-too-mortal eyes and saw love there.

  “What brings you to the Eternal City, my Lord?” She asked, smiling at the false formality. “I hope I’m not distracting you.”

  “Many things. I’m afraid it wasn’t simply to see you, not this time. I come on my mother’s errand.” He seemed almost apologetic. “Though you, I think, are best to aid me.”

  Elissa was disappointed. “Ah.”

  “My mother is concerned about the Mithraic cult, about the graffiti and their renewed presence.”

  “I had a feeling She knew of that. Just this morning I had to have blood washed from the temple walls and a man claiming to be their leader came to speak with me.” Elissa shivered, unable to stop herself. “Something about them, perhaps the height of summer and the coming solstice, has stirred them up. I know the shortest day is important to their faith, perhaps the longest one is also?”

  “Do you fear them?”

  “Personally? No.” Elissa sounded less brave in that moment. “But as High Priestess of this city, they are spreading discontent and as keeper of the legacy of my ancestor, as your mother’s acolyte, I have to think of the people and say yes.”

  “What did this man, this so-called leader, say to you?”

  She relayed the conversation as best as her memory allowed, Tanit would already know of it, as She often did. Elissa had felt Her presence, as if the Goddess were standing beside her, watching and listening through Elissa herself.

  “Then I will report back,” he said, mind made up.

  “Must you hurry? She knows I met this man. Can you not stay a little longer?”

  “I’m sure a half day won’t make a difference.”

  “Then sit with me a while?”

  They went and sat on a nearby bench and he asked the question which had been on his mind: “Tell me, why do you call it the Eternal City
?”

  “Because Carthage has endured ever since my ancestor, Hannibal, crossed the Alps and smote the Roman barbarians. This city became eternal when you—the gods I mean—bestowed your grace upon us and Mother Tanit revealed Herself.”

  “Do you never wonder what would have happened had Hannibal Barca failed?”

  “But he didn’t,” Elissa countered. “And that’s all that matters. When Rome fell we welcomed its brightest engineers and architects, taking their hypocausts and amphitheaters and leaving the circuses, the barbarity behind. We welcomed all forms of the Great Mother, though Tanit remains chief among our gods with your father as Her partner.”

  “It must have been a sight, an army of that size. I’ve never seen an elephant,” Attis murmured. “Have you, Elissa?”

  Elissa found herself thinking of the Elephant Gate which welcomed visitors to the city, two great carved things rendered in black basalt, their tusks from pale marble. The creatures were massive beasts of burden, strong as the oldest trees with great trunks and tusks which could crush or gore a man. She imagined they must be fierce indeed to stand at the head of Hannibal’s great army and defeat the might of Rome.

  “No. I’ve only seen them in books and scrolls. And the Gate.”

  He smiled and she could see him concocting as he asked: “Would you like to?”

  * * *

  Curious Attis and devout Elissa,

  A destined pair from two worlds,

  Pushed close together by gods’ machinations.

  Yet these two, innocent and in love,

  would herald the Eternal City’s fall.

  — From The Elissiad

  Elissa had never flown before. Attis had left her outside the city, disappearing to the gods’ realm in a flash and shimmer of light. Some time later, she heard a wind roaring and looked up to see a shadow crossing the sun. The sky-ship was sleek and black as night, like an arrow but with metal instead of feather fletching. She wondered what invisible hand, what drawn bow, allowed it to fly free.

  After a few moments, the belly opened and Attis stood waiting, beckoning her inside the beast. He led her through corridors and tiny rooms until they entered a large room reminiscent of a captain’s cabin on one of the many ships that brought goods to Carthage, indicating a seat in front of a large viewing window.

  “Sit, the view from here is spectacular.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “South, to the lands beyond the free province of Egypt.”

  She was aghast. “I can’t leave the city for that long! Months of travel …”

  “Calm yourself, we’ll be back by nightfall and evening services. This ship flies faster than boats can part water.”

  “It flies? Like a bird?”

  “Yes but much faster.” His hands moved on strange controls and the ship lurched up.

  Terror gripped Elissa but she held on, focused on breathing and her fear turned to awe as she watched the grass and Carthage fall away. Birds flew but she was human and even so the feel of her stomach lunching, it was exhilarating.

  “By the gods …”

  “No.” He replied and was clearly amused. “Not at all.”

  Elissa’s sense of wonder only increased as they flew over sand and grass, blue ocean and above white clouds. The great city of Alexandria, hub of the free province of Egypt, glittered and ruled by a line of Isis and Osiris’ sons and daughters; a fine city of white stone and ancient temples embracing the blue waters of the harbour.

  She wondered if anyone even noticed them as they flew faster than horses could run, faster than a boat with a good wind and strong sails could move. Eventually the land became flat, the grass tall and moving like a tide in the wind, an ocean of it which met the horizon and embraced the sky.

  They disembarked and Attis raised his hand to shade his eyes as he pointed. “Elissa. There. Look.”

  The creatures were clustered in a herd, drinking from a watering hole and reminding Elissa of the nameless nomads who entered and left the Eternal City, bringing items to trade and leaving with new wares that only Carthage could supply. These beasts were gentle wanderers, mothers caring for their babes and fathers protecting their families.

  “They’re matriarchal,” Attis said, pointing out an old beast. “That’s the crone, the leader of their group. She’s seen the most seasons and all defer to her. Those tusks are made from a precious substance called ivory.”

  “I know it,” Elissa murmured. “I once saw a holy statue carved from white stone brought by pilgrims from the east, a form of Tanit who rules India as many-armed Mahadevi. Are you saying it isn’t stone but tooth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who would harm such gentle animals?”

  “Less enlightened people,” Attis replied and, for a while, they walked and watched the herd.

  When the sun began to sink, they returned inside the sky-ship. The roaming beasts stayed with her as they returned, the sunset chasing them back to Carthage.

  * * *

  Love has caught even the cautious in its web,

  Gods and mortals, no distinction can be made.

  To rise and soar or fall below,

  All must bow to the greatest power

  And pray it treats them kindly.

  — From The Elissiad

  Tanit awaited her son’s return, eager for news but aware his interest had long ago been caught by the Barca priestess. It was not unexpected, given Attis’ fascination with her, and it wasn’t as if there were others of their kind he could bed. Yet she wanted him home, an urgent parental need balanced with a desire to counter the chaos moving across Carthage.

  The Warriors of Mithras had moved across the city like a summer storm, using the summer heat to incite rage, encourage tempers to fray and unsettling the populace wherever they went. This had been brewing for a long time but now they had reached breaking point. Tonight they were marching, inciting hatred and rage, demanding the temple be burned and the gods’ gifts smashed.

  Yet she was so far away and it was impossible to see all, to know the minds of those who wished them gone from the city.

  Sometimes, if she was lucky, she might glimpse something through the eyes of one of the humans she’d chipped or otherwise enhanced as babies. Mostly her choice was set on those destined for the clergy, like Elissa, co-opting their visual or aural feeds to better allow her to understand places and people she couldn’t interact with in person.

  They looked at her, at her ethereal projection and still saw a goddess and not an alien being. Their minds were still so small, so folded in on themselves and that was what the Warriors counted upon. She looked at the Warriors, through their eyes, and saw men with comprehension who used ancient myth to hide their enlightenment. A god in whose name to fight a cause, a holy war, for the future of humanity.

  The answer to this quandary was obvious; you could uplift any species but the effect took time. Minds had to adjust, magic had to become science. There was no mystery behind their technology but some still believed storms meant the gods were angry and that they were responsible when crops failed or sickness decimated villages; the immortals’ punishment for disobedience.

  It broke her heart.

  Sometimes, in the small hours when Baal was asleep beside her, when the hum of their ship seemed to grow louder by the second, Tanit wished she could leave. How long had it been since she had stepped on soil, felt wet grass under her feet and breathed in real air? Not this clean and scrubbed air which circulated eternally through the vessel.

  She envied her son his unique privileges but then she had never expected to have a son at all. He’d been just the latest violation of the laws of the Others; they had broken the prime rule by interfering so why not just go all in? And she loved Attis as only a mother could, even if he was a blend of DNA and crafted in a lab, not carried in her own womb.

  They’d arrived one hot summer, the ship damaged from a cosmic storm and in need of time and materials for repair. The only thing working had b
een their camouflage circuits and the transportation mechanism. This little world, a planet so inconsequential it hadn’t even been given a name on their charts, was their saving grace.

  The tenets of their own people said never to do this, never to appear or meddle; but they had been a day from death, their oxygen recyclers dead, half the ship and all the crew butTanit herself and Baal lost to the void. Theirs had been a desperate gambit to live, to survive against odds stacked firmly against them.

  As commander, it had been her decision to make and she rued it to this day.

  Afterwards, as Baal repaired the oxygen system using gifts from the people below, she’d marveled at the grasslands, at the oceans and the deserts, the mountains cutting swathes across virgin and unexplored continents. They had planned to stay a few days but the damage, it had already been done and the repairs, in reality, were more extensive, requiring months of work.

  By that point, neither of them had wanted to leave and Tanit herself had begun to care for the people below, moved by their suffering.

  Tanit was not her true name but over time since their arrival she had come to adopt the name as if it had been bestowed upon her at birth. They had decided adopting the guise of local deities would be the best, if not smartest, option to ensure they had access to prized metals, food and water so they could repair their ship. Now neither could shake their assumed names.

  They hadn’t expected such devotion but now, of course, she could see their mistake. No other, true deities showed themselves to their adherents. If they existed at all then it must be taken on faith, not fact.

  Carthage, a Phoenician city, had been ideal because the deities held in highest regard were wife and husband, a mother goddess and a father god. Luck smiled upon them and Tanit used the city’s worship to ensure peace, prosperity and an end to minor diseases which cut swathes across the population, to uplift them as much as she dared from the baseness of human society.

  The lie, it was needed. Gods accepted gifts; precious metals and gems, food and water, all the things two stranded aliens in a broken ship needed for repairs. It had never sat well with her, the deception, and she knew one day it might be their ruin but it was a chance they’d been forced to take.