Red World Trilogy

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Red World Trilogy Page 15

by V. A. Jeffrey


  “It is the queen!”

  “The queen? She has not yet arrived!”

  “It is a matter between Lady Diti and the Golden Temple.” Said one of the King's Guard at the gate.

  “Queen Diti! Queen Diti!” He heard everyone chanting which flustered and angered the herald.

  “You men!” He shouted at the King's Guard, “contain these people! I will get to the bottom of this.” He took his own men and went to the royal square. With great difficulty they took the queen and brought her before the head of the chief tribunal of the city to question her.

  “Why have you created this disturbance, Lady Diti? And near the eve of the king's wedding and all his vassals here in the city! Do you think to dishonor him?”

  “My lords! You are all well aware that the king has chosen a new queen. It is not that, that I object to, but to an order that the priests of the temple have said comes from the king. A letter with his seal, yet one that he did not sign or seal at all.”

  “What letter do you speak of?”

  “An order of execution for those too poor to pay the new temple tax.”

  “How do you know this is not from the king?”

  “I know because it is being carried on in secret. The king would never carry on a thing like this in secret. This thing has been done while he was away. If he has ordered the execution of hundreds of people at his wedding I would have learned about it at court well before now. This order did not come from the king.”

  “And how did you come to know of this letter?”

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Then it would seem, my lady, that we have a problem. We cannot investigate if we do not know.” Said one of the judges, smugly.

  “I appeal to the king himself!”

  “He will not see you.” Said the chief judge.

  “He will see me on this matter! I appeal to the king when he arrives! I shall appeal to him in front of the people that this great badness should not be done!” She did not trust the tribunal. There were Ainash supporters among them. Yet, not all had love for the Ainash. One spoke up, an ancient man, a worshiper of the sun god.

  “Let the queen alone. If her cause is right, things will be sorted out. If she be wrong she will be punished, yet, I think she may be right. I say she must see the king, if he consents.” The chief judge tugged at his beard for a few moments, thinking on it, his gray brows furrowing in deep thought. Then he nodded.

  “The Most Honored Lady Diti shall have the right to appeal to the king on the matter.” His voice was the final word on the matter until the king arrived. Diti was escorted back to her house. As she was taken away she heard the riots as the city was in turmoil over the looming fate of many families.

  “Curse the Ainash! Curse the Ainash!” They screamed. Diti really had no idea what the king's reaction would be or whether she herself would be thrown into the furnace for her actions but she had risked everything and now all she could do was wait and see. Later that evening, as she gazed out of the windows from her room she heard the soft pattering of Fricka's feet. She turned and saw that something was in Fricka's pack. It was exactly what she'd hoped Demos and Eliaz would find. She took the letter from Fricka, read it and hid it beneath her veils. She called for her guards and commanded them to have the herald come see her immediately.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Citadel was small as fortresses went and stood right at the front of the hill. It was the first building one saw when entering the town. There was a gate that was closed each night and anyone coming or going could be seen from the hill by its denizens. Gamina, the town and the land around it, had always been a peaceful place and its land nearly as fertile as Zapulia's famed orchards and vineyards. Gamina also had vineyards and always since old times had given a tithe of wine and wool to Hybron, back when the old kings ruled, in exchange for protection from raiders and foreign occupation. Later, during the times of the city-state skirmishes between Jhis and Yallas-of-the-Valley, the forces of Yallas twice tried to annex Gamina – and failed. Of all the intermittent wars and battles in these lands, Gamina, it was said, was blessed with peace. A peace attributed by the people of Gamina to the holy women at the citadel.

  Along the journey Ilim felt freer than he'd ever felt in Jhis. There was much talk of the prophecies among the people of the land and when they would see their fulfillment. Ilim's new mission only stoked these fires. After ten days of travel they finally spotted the hilly, green terrain along the southeastern border of Hybron and the little fortress town of Gamina. A small group of shepherds were making their way up the hill toward the town gate, their flocks of sheep milling around about them. The small caravan followed behind the flock for a little ways and then Ilim finally parted ways with them when they'd reached the bottom of the hill.

  “We will see you again Ilim, if God wills it. You are always welcome among the Raea. May your steps upon the sand always be blessed!”

  “I thank you! I thank you for your kindnesses upon a humble man!” They went on their way further south and Ilim followed the shepherds up the hill.

  Ilim's arm bands were itching him and he was tired. As they passed through the gate high above on the parapets he saw a strange sight that nearly stopped him cold. He saw women dressed in their long, flowing skirts and mantles with bows in their hands and quivers on their backs.

  “Women allowed to carry weapons?” He exclaimed aloud. He knew sometimes some tribal women would fight if necessary but women from the cities? It galled him. They stared down at him just as intently as he stared up at them. Upon entering the town he saw soft, rolling hills and what looked like a small lake in the distance and small gardens. The town was nearly covered in greenery as if the green plains all around it were encroaching the desert. The town was alive and bustling, if a bit more primitive than he was expecting. Women were gathering water by the central well and laughing and talking. Most people smiled but did not molest him. He could see the blue-veined purple sunset atop this hill, a dramatic, panoramic sight from the hill town. He went up the steps to the huge wooden and iron doors of the citadel. Above was a written passage carved in the stone above the door: “Blessed is the woman of God.”

  “The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, the book of Emah 6:29. Blessed indeed.” He knocked. And knocked. Finally, the door opened, slowly. A dour looking old scion gazed at him. She looked at his robes and confusion grew on her face. Then suspicion.

  “Who do you seek? We rarely get visitors.”

  “I am Ilim Gulin na-Shayin, once a temple priest of the Ainash. I am here to see someone named Anet. Surely you must have heard that I was coming?” The woman's expression turned to incredulity and then a slow realization seemed to settle on her face.

  “Well woman, what will it be? Will I be made to sit out here all day in the hot sun?” He snapped.

  “Oh no, no! Come in, come in!” Ilim was relieved. He was very tired. She ushered him inside and down the hall.

  “Mother Berenice has told us of this moment!”

  “Where is she? I must speak with her.”

  “She has not arrived back. She is on a mission-journey and the sisters are late. We were expecting them back several days ago but we have not seen them.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “Anet is with them. They were in Zapulia last I heard. But we got message that the Hatchet Men, ever thorns in our sides, were seeking to kill them and they had to go by sea.” Ilim grunted in dismay. The Hatchet Men were one more black mark on the temple. He hated them. Thieves, idlers and murderers put to use by the Ainash.

  “Hatchet Men! A curse on them! The women up there,” he motioned to the ceiling, “are they there because of them?”

  “Yes. We always have to be vigilant against them.”

  “So they had to go by ship, you say?”

  “Yes. We have not heard from them since. God be good to them, they will be safe where ever they are.”

  “I perceive they must be making their way here an
d not lost. I had a vision and I was told to come here to seek the child, to train her.”

  “What vision, my brother?”

  “I have been given a sign and a commission. I must denounce the Ainash in the city of Jhis, where the great temple is. God has left them. This child will be important in God's purpose in removing corruption and evil in the land.”

  “Denounce the Ainash? You are the Ilim, the one who creates trouble for them?”

  “I am. I do not know whether I shall survive this commission but we will see. What is your name?”

  “Ava. I make and mend the clothes and tend the looms here in the fortress. I am sorry but I have been talking too much. Come and let me show you the sleeping quarters. Mother Berenice arranged a separate small house near the gardens for you. I shall have someone bring fresh water and food. Come!” The woman chattered on endlessly it seemed to Ilim and it took all his patience not to snap at her again but finally she brought him to his quarters and left and he set about making himself at home. It was a one room house, solid enough, built of unmortared stone with a small fire pit for warming and cooking, a long sturdy table, a chair and a small bed with some rough blankets and one window covered by a thick, worn tapestry. On the table there was a small supply of candles wrapped in cloth and tied with a strip of cotton and a wide, shallow, fired-clay vessel filled with water. He immediately rolled up his garment and washed his arms and hands and then he put the vessel on the ground and washed his feet. In a dark little corner he heard the rustling of mice. There was a strong, musty, old smell to the house which signaled to him that it had been a very long time since anyone had resided in it. It made him think on his commission. It was an age since a message had been brought to the people of Hybron. The land was rotten with corruption and like this house, had to be swept clean. He wondered how he would tell his message to the people. It would not be a message anyone wanted to hear but he had no intention of shrinking back. He also wondered what this child was like. He had never mentored a girl, only boys and men, being as they were smarter and could learn faster. Everyone knew this. Yet, if God said that she was his next one to train, that was that. Ilim had found many things strange recently. The very atmosphere of the land was charged with destiny. Prophecy was on everyone's lips, whether they looked forward to it or feared it. He looked to the future as a distant but bright star in the night. He wanted that light to shine upon the whole red world. Others wanted to hide from it or stamp it out. He used to wonder why Khalit had not been the one to bring about the new era. Now he was bringing in a new queen, one from a strange culture. Would this child really come from her? It chilled him, briefly. Ilim was still unhappy over the fact that the Divine Purpose would not be worked out between Khalit and Diti. In his mind, she was a most excellent woman. There could be none better. He sighed and wandered outside. The sun's waning light still held on to dusk but the stars were peeking through the sky and it was turning from soft violet to blue-black. From his little hill on the citadel grounds he could see a small herd of sheep settling down in their stone pen for the night. The little houses dotted the town between gardens, workshops and roads. A wild dog barked somewhere far away. Ilim plucked a few long grasses and began chewing them. The Festival of Firsts would be upon the land soon. People from many places near and far would be traveling to Jhis. Some would travel to the citadel instead. He saw that the women were busy making preparations for this very occasion. A figure was approaching a small distance away. One of the older girls of the temple. She was carrying a large bundle of firewood. She was paler than most of the women in the citadel with jet black hair and black almond shaped-eyes. He called to her.

  “My daughter!”

  “Yes? I am sorry, who are you?”

  “I am Ilim. I am here to see Mother Berenice, when she arrives.”

  “Oh, yes. Greetings to you, my father.”

  “What is your name, child?”

  “Irtal.”

  “What sort of name is that?”

  “I am from the north. Where the sands turn to ice and snow and the dunes to mounds. My name means 'waiting'.

  “A beautiful name. It would seem we all are waiting for something to happen.”

  “Yes, father.” Said Irtal.

  “I wonder, my child, do many people come here for the Festival of Firsts?”

  “People in Gamina come here instead of traveling to Jhis. Or it used to be that way. But lately we have noticed more people from far away coming here instead of traveling to Jhis. Once we even had a dear family travel all the way from Egi. They refused to even enter Jhis.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “The Ainash have made it more difficult for the people. Especially for foreigners. They offend the people. I remember hearing once from a man who had come here with his family for the festival that in order to even enter the temple they had to have many coppers or some gold or silver and if they did not they had to stand at the foregate for most of the festival. Not once were they allowed into the temple for the deep readings and instructions nor for prayers in the morning and night nor the healing pools. They could only attend the public Morning and Night Prayers in the main courtyard. The temple is the heritage of all those who worship God but it has been taken from us. I hear that those who refuse to pay the new temple tax are now being punished with death.”

  “Ai! What? I have not heard so!”

  “You have been away for a long time, father. Many things can happen in a few weeks. We have birds that bring messages from everywhere so that we might know what is happening in the land. The Ainash have made it punishable by death not to pay it. Many of the people, of course, cannot pay. It is a way, I suspect, for them to winnow out the poor from the temple. Those who are unable to pay, it is said are being sent to the arenas to be torn apart in the games – for the king's wedding celebrations.” Ilim was aghast.

  “Who was this letter from?” He finally said when he recovered.

  “From the Lady Diti. But do not let anyone in Gamina hear you call her “lady”. She is still the only true queen as far as they see it.”

  “Blessed be Lady Diti, but has no one said anything in their defense?” Cried Ilim.

  “She found out through one of the priests loyal to the old ways.” He knew immediately who it was.

  “Also, Lady Diti has caused a controversy in the city. She went wearing clothes of mourning, fasting and weeping and sitting herself in the marketplace in front of all the people. Many of the women came to weep with her and now the whole city is in an uproar and the king will be back any day now with his new bride. What will happen, I do not know and what she can accomplish with this? I fear for her.” The girl's eyes brimmed with tears.

  “The king will think it a ploy to derail the wedding or set the people in opposition to him.”

  “You think so?”

  “I helped raise him. I know his pride. I hope I am wrong. Here Irtal, let me carry these for you, child.” He took the bundle of wood from her arms. “Great is the Lady Diti for doing this in behalf of the people. What she has done could put her in the fires but she has risked her life for the innocent. I pray He will protect and keep her. Daughter, may I see this letter?”

  “I think I can have one of the sisters in charge of Mother Berenice's study find it for you.” Ilim was stunned at the events that had taken place in just a few weeks and now the wedding was mere days away. In all this, he was now to give severe denouncements. Things were becoming darker indeed. Yet, there was at least one thing that brightened his sinking mood. He could smell the pungent and delicious scent of the evening meal cooking.

  “It would seem the temple is completely bereft of godly things now.” She said sadly.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “But not here. Here we do what God has instructed and we do not show favoritism toward those with wealth or power. There is no love, joy or peace at the grand temple, beautiful as it is, but there are the foundational stones from the Golden Temple that have been laid here i
n the citadel's foundation, though our citadel is mean and primitive.”

  “There are?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding, “when the original desert mothers came here they found buried here old tablets that partially told of how it was constructed and that there was a note saying that some of the stones in its foundation came from the Golden Temple.”

  “Interesting. I have always wondered who built it. That is very interesting, indeed. Do you have a priest who comes to read the Holy Words for the crowds?”

  “No brother.” Then she looked at him pointedly. “But we do now?” She smiled. “Would you take the lead for us when the festival comes?”

  “I would be happy to. It does not surprise me that more people trickle here. It is a good thing, my daughter. It is a good thing.”

  “The wild tribes do not ever come for the festivals. Do you know why?”

  “The tribal people that follow the old ways have their own “temples”. One day, everyone will worship at the great temple, one that is clean and free from corruption.”

  “We look forward to that day, father. Ah! Supper is ready. There is cold water, soft eggs in pepper and tomato soup and bread. We have no meat for supper as Medeah is saving what meat is left for the festivities of Holy Week.”

  “A wise decision. I can smell it and I am glad to hear it.” Said Ilim. They walked back to the citadel in silence, ready to eat.

  That night God began speaking to Ilim as to what he must say to the people of Jhis, saying: This is the Holy Word of Airend-Ur, your God, and this is what you must say to the people: “Oh people of Jhis, pay attention that you may live. A new king is coming and to the old ways he will turn and he will turn the temple back to the ways of God, the ways of Airend-Ur, for the keepers of the law have sinned and prostituted themselves for gold and for silver and they must face destruction. . .

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was a long, hot journey but Anet managed to entertain herself by relentlessly questioning Yemi and he did not seem to mind. He was amused and obliged her. He told her of all his travels from the far north and his dealings with two northern tribes, the Ostrites who worshiped an ice and wind god and the Petra who worshiped Airend-Ur, by a different name. He recounted his treks through the western mountains, of seeing the secret rivers that flowed from there, his journey to the Great Ridge Lands in the vast rift canyon where it was said that one could stand on one side of the rift without seeing the other side. He told her of the dark forests below in the mighty gorge that hid the mysterious lands of the Valierite peoples. There were lands in the Great Ridge engulfed in forests and great monstrous beasts called bullbears. He told her of his travels to the great steppes east of Zapulia where the unknown wild tribes often intermarried, raided the villages, travailed north and fought with the Ostrites and Petrites, and were expert horsemen. He told her of strange, giant plants in his homeland that trapped and ate animals and humans if they could get them and of massive snake like-vines in the woods of the far east that would grab and choke any creature that came too close, swallowing them whole. There was the Dragon of the Llordis sea who demanded tribute before he allowed anyone to pass and once they really did throw a murderous thief overboard for the dragon to eat and were then allowed passage. There were many other things he spoke of, both wondrous and dark. It invigorated her imagination to think how vast the world was. Finally, though, her thoughts turned back to the dark parts of his tales. She glanced at his chest, thinking of the scar he'd once shown her.

 

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