The Sacred Lake (Shioni of Sheba Book 4)

by Marc Secchia

  Everyone else swam, but Shifta simply waded across. “Not enough water for an elephant to swim in,” he commented disdainfully.

  “I’d like to see you swim.”

  “I’ll give you a rotten fig for that comment.”

  “Somebody wake up with his trunk out of joint?”

  As she descended, Annakiya said, “I’d love to listen to these conversations of yours, Shioni. All I hear is one side, and I have to guess the other.”

  Could Annakiya learn to hear animals? Shioni tickled Shifta’s ears with her bare toes. “He’s a little testy this morning.”

  “That makes two of you.”

  “I didn’t see her Royal Highness dipping a toe in the water, unlike everyone else.”

  “Shut your yapping, slave-girl, and go fetch my things!”

  Two passing warriors gave them perplexed looks, as both Shioni and Annakiya burst out laughing. Shioni took Shifta back over the river so that he could be loaded with the goods that could not get wet, especially the amole or rock salt from the desert–which took twelve trips. This put them firmly at the rear of the expedition, and equally firmly in the bull’s-eye of General Getu’s wrath.

  “It’s mid-morning already!” he shouted, his face darkening. “Get a move on, Shioni. And tell that lumbering grey rock to hurry up.”

  “We’re the ones doing all the hard work,” Shioni muttered. “Actually, you are, Shifta.”

  “We’ll catch up soon,” rumbled the elephant.

  They did not catch up, because the Princess developed a stomach complaint that had her diving for the nearest bush every half an hour or so like a bushbuck scenting danger. The warriors escorting them grew accustomed to turning their backs and practised identifying the next available bush ahead of time. Annakiya looked so wretched, Shioni did not even have the heart to tease her.

  Once they conquered the flooded river, the Shebans had several other, smaller rivers to cross, but these proved much easier to navigate. The landscape opened out as they headed south-westward across great rolling plains inhabited by bushbuck, zebra, kudu, and elephant. Several nights running unseen lions treated them to spectacular contests of roaring. Shifta helped by seeking information about the trail ahead from the wild elephants that crossed their path. Here and there, the cones of ancient volcanoes rose unexpectedly amidst the tan grasses and arid coniferous forests, where the water seemed to have been sucked out of the very air and dust glued itself in every throat. They left the Takazze River behind, and struck out into a wilderness which was empty of people. The land felt forgotten and ancient, unchanged for thousands of years.

  General Getu did not let up for a moment. He drove the merchants along with growls and snarls. Shioni had to set up camp in the dark several times. They left at the crack of dawn each morning. Even Annakiya learned how to hammer pegs and lay out beds. She seemed gamely determined to learn all the things she was ‘not allowed to do at home’, which included getting her fingernails dirty, making a fire, working up a sweat, and bruising her thumb with a hammer.

  Shioni liked this Princess of West Sheba!

  Late on the afternoon of their sixteenth day out of royal Takazze, as Annakiya faithfully wrote in her journal, Shifta topped yet another rise. Shioni shaded her eyes and gazed to the horizon, golden in the rays of the lowering sun. Her heart lurched in her chest.

  “Anni, look.”

  “What?”

  Shioni gripped the railing, bouncing on her toes in her excitement. “I see a fortress … a wall … it must be Gondar!”

  The Princess leaped off her seat with an un-royal screech, scattering scroll, quill pens, and ink to the four corners of the howdah. “Where? Where, Shioni?”

  “There.”

  Annakiya clucked her tongue. “That’s a mountain.”

  “Follow my finger, Anni. Right next to that outcropping, right there. Can’t you see it?”

  “I can see enough rock to build a wall stretching from here to the Rea Sea, but I can’t see any city.”

  Undeterred by her mistress’ waspish tone, Shioni called down to General Getu, riding alongside, “General! I see Gondar!”

  “And I’m riding a lion,” he retorted. “It’s too early, girl. We can’t be there yet.”

  “My Lord, I know you didn’t believe the elephants’ intelligence–”

  “What I do or don’t believe is none of your business, slave-girl.” Nevertheless, the corner of the General’s mouth did turn upward. Shioni had learned to read these little signs. “Stop the elephant. I will take a look.”

  Shortly, the General clambered upward, cleverly tucking the steps of the rope ladder beneath his bitten-off arm as he reached for the next rung. Shioni’s offer of a helping hand over the howdah’s railing earned her a withering glare of refusal.

  Getu narrowed his eye as he gazed at the horizon. Standing to the scarred side of his face, Shioni glanced up as he demanded she point out the city. “There, my Lord. There’s a yellow flag above the fortress and trees within, probably giant fig trees. It’s strongly fortified.”

  “Right on the horizon? And can you count the soldiers within? Ignore that,” he growled. “I don’t see as well as I used to.” He laid a firm hand upon her shoulder. “But it’s there, my daughter. The Den of Angry Lions, as your elephants called it. What do you sense on the wind? What does Gondar hold for us?”

  The beautiful afternoon air, swirling with glowing motes beneath skies as blue and wide as the great land of Abyssinia itself, seemed to dim as Shioni considered this question. She rubbed her arms. “It makes my hair stand on end, my Lord.”

  “Me too.”

  A voice piped out of Annakiya’s tunic pocket. “You two are quite the pair, throwing your magic about like that,” Azurelle said unexpectedly. “Don’t forget, whatever lurks in Gondar might be listening.”

  Ooh, now there was a thought to make her feel ill.

  Getu’s eyebrow crawled up toward his hairline. Shioni was certain he was about to launch into one of his famous eruptions, which could send Sheba’s toughest and finest bolting like a herd of zebra sensing the hot breath of a lion on their necks, but instead, all he said was:

  “You woke up just to warn us?”

  “That’s hardly the point,” Zi said impertinently. “And, before you suggest it, I’m the last person to teach you how human magic works.”

  “But you know magic,” the General argued. “Why are you sleeping so much?”

  “Gashe,” Shioni said, “I’m not sure Zi isn’t ill.”

  The Fiuri sighed and wriggled in a way that made the Princess put a hand to her pocket. Azurelle squeaked in protest, “Well, I don’t suppose I can keep it from you any more, can I? Being so clever and all.”

  “You can thank Shioni,” Getu cut in.

  “Zi!” Shioni scowled down at her friend. “You told me you were fine.”

  “Honestly, Shioni, when does a female ever say what she means?” Azurelle folded her arms and scowled back. But even her fiercest expression was cute. “Where’s all the care and attention, and the concerned friends, around here? I’ve been shamefully neglected. Shamefully!”

  “If you were more honest, we’d have known,” Shioni pointed out. “A few weeks ago I wondered if you were dying. Now I realise I should have had Shifta step on you until he squeezed the truth out–”

  “Elephants have such control of the muscles of their feet, they could step on a Fiuri and not harm them,” Shifta interrupted.

  Shioni said hotly, “Be quiet! I’m busy telling Azurelle off, you annoying moving mountain.”

  “Shifta, if you agree with me, pick Shioni up by her left foot and turn her upside down for me,” suggested the Fiuri.

  “Azurelle! Shifta! Get your trunk off …” Shioni tried to bat his trunk away, but the wily elephant swatted her sideways, and then caught her neatly by the ankle as she tried to regain her balance in a flurry of arms and legs. “Let go of … meeeeeee!”

  “Much better,” Zi tittered. “W
hat a clever elephant you are. Much nicer than that sulky slave-girl.”

  Shioni glared at them all, arms folded, dangling upside-down and bouncing about as the elephant strode downhill toward the faraway city of Gondar.

  Chapter 12: Ancient Gondar

  Gondar, the City on the hill, loomed above the Sheban procession as it wound slowly between the huge stone gateposts. Shioni, covered literally to the eyeballs in her disguise as an Afar desert maiden, was grateful not to be entering the city carried upside-down by Shifta, as the Princess had jokingly threatened her. Perhaps there were small mercies left in the life of a slave-girl after all.

  The two female Elite warriors felt differently, it seemed. As they prepared for their early evening entry to the city, Shioni had been greeted with an arm-lock and a voice hissing in her ear, “I heard this was your idea.” Alemnesh had apparently never worn anything so ridiculous. Mekedis was the one holding the dagger next to Shioni’s neck–sheathed, thankfully, but she was even less impressed than her warrior friend. “The men are laughing at us, laughing like a pack of hysterical hyenas, you little–oh, hello, Princess. Just chatting to Shioni.”

  “Chat away.”

  Having the unflagging support of her best friend, the Princess of West Sheba, was clearly another benefit of her job.

  Shioni suggested, “Why don’t you show them some of the weapons you have secreted under–”

  “This tent?” snarled Mekedis. “This ridiculous thing hanging off me like a sack? Oh, General Getu. We were just having a friendly discussion …”

  Now General Getu? Shioni could not believe her bad luck. The General looked them over with a critical eye. He ignored the fact that Shioni had her arm twisted up behind her back and a blade at her throat. “Don’t forget to paint your toenails, ladies. Wear the ankle bracelets I showed you.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Otherwise? Good job. Alemnesh, try to look less muscular, if you can. Pretend you’re gliding, rather than stalking a lion. Simper. Flutter your eyelashes.”

  The warrior sounded as though she were about to choke. “As you command, my Lord.”

  The howdah was decorated with drapes of beautiful, brocaded cloth. Shifta had suffered to have his tusks cleaned and sheathed in cloth-of-gold. Fifty warriors marched before the elephant and fifty after, darkly impressive in their formal lion’s-mane headdresses, spears bristling above their shoulders, and shields held loosely upon their left arms. Annakiya wore all the finery of a Princess of West Sheba, from the golden crown upon her head to the delicate slippers on her feet. Her ankle-length dress was hand-sewn of the finest cotton, over which she had thrown a robe of deep green brocaded in gold thread with symbols of the Lion of Sheba. Her long dark hair sparkled with jewels. Bracelets of gold encrusted with costly gemstones covered her arms from wrist to elbow, and about her neck, she wore a Star-of-David pendant on a chain which Shioni had nearly dropped when picking it up, it was so heavy.

  Shioni wondered if the King of Gondar would think the Shebans intended to invade his city–all the warriors, all the formality, all the people lined up at the roadside beneath the towering wanza trees. They were in full bloom, all sprays of delicate white flowers which filled the air with a heady scent. Abyssinian rose tumbled freely between the pretty, round stick huts of the people, tightly thatched and decorated with fanciful patterns in different clay pigments. A toothless shemagele watched them curiously from the door of his hut, squatting in the sun’s waning warmth.

  But Gondar seemed a place of little cheer. She wondered at this.

  At length the paved road wound uphill between tall block stone walls, and they came to Gondar’s open marketplace, still baking hot after a day in the sun.

  “It’s quiet,” said Annakiya from the corner of her mouth. “Do they discourage trade?”

  “My neck’s prickling,” Shioni whispered back.

  The Princess smiled and waved at the handful of enterprising children who had joined their procession. At least they smiled, giggled, and waved shyly.

  Here the merchants would do business. General Getu had delegated a number of warriors to remain with them. The remainder, together with Shifta and the donkey-train carrying the Princess’ necessities and gifts for the King of Gondar, forged on uphill between larger buildings until they entered the fortress Shioni had first seen, upon the brow of the hill.

  “No church?” said Annakiya.

  “I saw what might have been one,” said Shioni. “But it looked abandoned.”

  Their guide, riding alongside General Getu, called up to announce that this was the Royal Palace of Gondar.

  Shioni had already assumed as much. Hundreds of warriors lined the stone steps in front of a rank of impressive columns. A number of them held lions on chains–twenty in all, she counted quickly. Every one of the stern-faced warriors wore a golden breastplate and golden greaves, and their headdresses sported great tufts of ostrich feathers, or lion’s-manes like the Shebans. First and foremost, high on the steps, stood a round-shouldered mountain of a man who had to be the King of Gondar. The closer they came, the bigger he seemed. His golden crown jutted more than a foot above his smooth-shaven head, but even so, he stood head and shoulders taller than any of the flanking warriors. A flowing golden robe swaddled his great girth and spread out for several paces behind him. His massive, solid boots, shining like the wet pelt of a brown cow after it has swum a river, seemed as rooted to the steps as an ancient tree.

  Getu glanced up at Shioni.

  She extended her hand, palm down–a simple, pre-planned gesture. Nothing yet. She sensed nothing strange or magical about the King, although the itchy feeling of unseen, malicious eyes watching her refused to leave. Maybe it was just her imagination. She certainly sensed animosity from the tame lions, however.

  As Shifta halted at the foot of the steps, Princess Annakiya stood. Shioni helped her step out of the howdah and onto the elephant’s head.

  “Kneel, Shifta.”

  A murmuring arose from the crowd as Shifta slowly bent his knees onto the stone steps. He curled up his trunk. Holding Shioni’s hand to help her balance, the Princess of West Sheba stepped out onto his trunk and from there alighted daintily on the steps. She gathered her long dress in her hand. That would be some climb beneath the weight of her jewellery, Shioni realised, and it struck her too that the King of Gondar must have planned to have her climb up to his position–a statement of power. A King’s way of stating she was but a Princess. He held the key to Lake Tana; she depended on his favour.

  Without apparent fear of the lions leashed left and right of the King, Princess Annakiya ascended to the top of the steps. She nodded regally.

  “I am Meles, King of Gondar,” boomed the huge man, inclining his head ever so slightly and making a sweeping gesture with his right arm. “We are overjoyed to welcome the most radiant Princess of West Sheba to Gondar, since ancient times the seat of the Gondari people, who rule the highlands from the Sacred Lake to the Mountains of Smoke in the north.”

  He must mean the Simien Mountains, Shioni thought, sensing rather than seeing Alemnesh and Mekedis come to stand alongside her. She kept her gaze a little downcast, as planned, the better to hide her green eyes. With her hands, feet and face dyed brown, they had to hope the disguise would work.

  “I, Princess Annakiya of West Sheba, on behalf of the King of West Sheba, am most pleased to extend our warmest greetings to the great King of Gondar and his people. I bring also the wishes of all our people for the peace and prosperity of your kingdom, and we pray that the blessing of the Almighty God would rest upon you and your household. I have come on a most urgent mission–”

  But the King clapped his hands. “Please, no talk of business as yet. Allow our servants to show you the rooms we have prepared. You must rest and refresh yourselves after your long journey from Takazze. In our culture, it is not considered polite to speak of business before our honoured guests are made welcome. We have instructed our servants to grant your every wish
, Princess, and we trust you will find the accommodation meets your satisfaction.”

  “I am certain your hospitality will be as magnificent as your welcome, o King.”

  “I would be delighted, Princess, if you would consider joining my ministers and I for a banquet tomorrow at noon.”

  “I accept your invitation with appreciation.”

  The King swept into another grand gesture. He quite overshadowed the slender Sheban Princess. Annakiya showed no signs of being cowed, however. “We anticipate fruitful discussions between our kingdoms, Princess. How is your father, the King?”

  “The King of Sheba is regrettably unwell,” said the Princess, “but if he were able, he would have extended you brotherly greetings as one great king to another and expressed his desire for fruitful cooperation, trade, and commerce between our nations.”

  “I am grieved to hear this news.” King Meles sounded genuinely concerned. “You will tell us more on the morrow. Whatever help we may give, that is within our power, shall be yours, Princess.”

  With a final nod, the King signalled an end to the pleasantries of state.

  The Princess had only to glance at her attendants for them to draw close. “Half a promise,” she said aside to Getu, very softly.

  The General replied with one of his forbidding looks.

  An officious little servant conducted them into the Palace of Gondar, through several beautiful rooms, and along a covered walkway flanked to both sides by pretty, formal gardens. They came shortly to a building which the servant announced was ‘the East Wing, until several years previous, occupied by the Queen herself’. Marble columns surrounded it on all sides, and the lavish scale of the furnishings took Shioni’s breath away. Here, the Captain of the Royal Guard awaited them. He showed General Getu around the building with exactitude, pointing out where guards could be placed at the entry and exit points, and at the windows and even on the roof.

  But Shioni’s eyes were drawn to the trees behind the building–the towering growth of giant fig trees she had spotted from afar, mixed in with pungent juniper, and flame trees with their distinctive tufty red flowers. The giants were the largest specimens she had ever seen. At least ten paces across at the base, their many-pillared trunks seemed to be separate trees which had grown together over the centuries.