An Immortal Dance

by Alastair Fontaine

  “Cesare. I understand why you want them dead. Do you want to tell me how?” Asriel snapped. He was growing frustrated. If he had not known Cesare Borgia to be a brilliant man behind that ugly mask, he would have left by then, son of the Pope or not.

  “You will accompany me and a small company to meet with them at Sinigaglia,” Cesare began.

  Asriel interrupted him, fearing that the disease had driven Cesare mad, “That’s suicide! They’ve got their entire army there. They’ll just take us prisoner and it’ll be your ugly head on a spike.”

  “Let me finish! We will meet them at Sinigaglia. I plan to invite them to dinner at my new city. Without their men.” Seeing his friend begin to protest, Cesare raised a hand to quiet him and continued, “Without their men, they are at our mercy. We will slaughter them. Now, why would they ever agree to this? Firstly, they believe that I count on the full support of the French crown. I still control a decent portion of the army, and they know that they do not stand a chance should Louis come to my aid. Secondly, I represent my father and he represents God. No ruler would risk his disfavour to aid a few rebel condotierri. Thirdly, they believe me an avaricious fool like them, easily bought by their ‘gift’ of Sinigaglia. Finally, they are used to squeezing the common people dry. Only now are they seeing the prime benefit of enlightened rule. The people want Borgia, not Vitelli or Orsini. They cannot fight me and the people at the same time and they know it. Their little coup has proved more difficult than they expected. I would say that these are pretty solid reasons for counting on their acceptance of our gracious invitation to dinner.” The passion in Cesare’s voice grew as he outlined his plan. Whatever was eating away at his face, it had clearly not yet reached his brain. Asriel could not help but to admire the cleverness and raw courage, or insanity, necessary to come up with a scheme like that. Cesare continued with a grimace, “If I am wrong, and we fail, you might still escape. My father will not rest until I am avenged if they kill me. You can return with whatever army he eventually musters to destroy them in my name.”

  “I rather hope that instead, the two of us will soon ride into Bologna. At the head of your entire army,” Asriel laughed. “Besides, I suspect that the holy father would not be too pleased if I were to let his favourite son die.”

  “Well then, I suppose we’d best succeed,” Cesare smiled from behind his mask, clapping Asriel on the back. “For now, however, we are in Rome. Ironic, isn’t it? It is the home of holy mother church, but God knows it is also the greatest den of corruption in the civilized world.” For a moment, his eyes seemed sad and he bowed his head. Only for a moment. He soon raised it, shaking his unruly mane and chuckling, “Let us be corrupted.”

  The delicate arches and carefully painted walls of the Hall of Faith disappeared. They had been replaced by a dark, fearsome place. Low-burning torches revealed stone walls and iron gates lining a narrow corridor, deep underground. He was looking into one of the cells, a tiny, windowless space. Cesare was still with him, but he had lost all traces of humour. Still, even in that grim place, he wore his bright, rich garbs. They gave him a majestic appearance, even as his dark eyes burned with contempt for the naked figure shackled within the cell.

  “My gracious lord, I beg of you, let me live. Allow me to serve you once more. I did not want to raise my sword against you, but Francesco threatened to kill me if I didn’t. I was afraid my lord. Please, forgive my cowardice. Please. I shall serve you faithfully and well as before, did I not take this city for you?” the kneeling man pleaded.

  “Hush, Vitellozzo,” Cesare barked, his masked face terrifying in the torch-light. “You gave me this worthless heap of dung because you realised that your ill-conceived plot would come to naught. Do not fret about Francesco. He will also get what he deserves, as well as his useless brothers.”

  “Cesare, please. I am rich, I can pay for my release. I will give you my entire fortune. Please, don’t kill me. You can’t kill me. You can’t. I am of noble blood. God protects my life. Kill me and you will be damned,” Vitelli continued to ramble. He attempted to kiss the feet of his captor, only to be thrown back with a savage kick to the face. He looked up at Cesare, unable to hide the resentment in his bloodied countenance.

  “Hmm… Let me think about it. You don’t need to give me your wealth, I can take it. You can’t really stop me. Furthermore, my father is the vicar of Christ. For all intents and purposes, I am God,” Cesare taunted his captive, cruel mockery in his voice. He turned to Asriel, “Micheletto…”

  Vitelli interrupted him, exploding into a rage, “Catalan bastard! Ill-bred cur! You are the product of your father, the antichrist himself, and a beast sent by Satan, his master.” The doomed man erupted into manic laughter, realizing that debasing himself further before the Borgia brat would not save him. “You will burn soon, animal. Soon you will writhe in the fires of hell and I will savour every, eternal moment of it. What happened to your pretty face? Your pretty wife won’t be very happy, will she? No, she’s probably found herself a real man by now. A French peasant who can really please her. I wonder how she will celebrate when the sickness finally takes you…”

  Cesare refused to show his fury at being so insulted. He would not give Vitelli the satisfaction. He gestured to Asriel once more. The condottiero knew what had to be done. He unsheathed his dagger, walking deliberately towards the aristocrat. Seeing his death approaching, Vitelli’s eyes became wild. He stood and spread his arms, howling in defiance. In two, lightning-fast motions, Asriel pulled the pink tongue from the madman’s rotting mouth and sliced it off, leaving its owner staring dumbly at the severed organ writhing on the filthy floor. Then, Vitelli screamed. At least he tried to. As crimson blood filled his mouth, he found that he could only manage a faint gargle.

  Cesare remarked, “Someone had to shut you up.” Seeing the look of horror on Vitelli’s face, he added, “Oh you didn’t think I was just going to kill you, did you? No, Vitellozzo, we’re all going to have a lot of fun. Micheletto, let us brand this treacherous swine.”

  “No. You’ve had your fun. I will not indulge this any further,” Asriel found himself shouting at Cesare in disgust. He turned his gaze to Vitelli, a crumpled, grisly heap on the ground. Kneeling next to him, he whispered, “Go in peace.” Swiftly, he thrust the dagger into the man’s heart, ending his suffering. As he did so, he felt a sudden, searing pain at his side. In shocked silence, he turned and was horrified to see a rapier slide out of his abdomen, giving him an uncomfortable sensation as the cold steel passed through him. He looked up to see a man who he had called a friend wielding the bloody blade, now snarling at him in anger.

  “How dare you? Micheletto, I raised you out of nothing. Nothing! Were it not for me, you would still be a mere student in Pisa. I am Cesare Borgia and without me, you are worthless. False friend! You have robbed me of my victory,” Cesare raged. He raised his sword in preparation for the final blow, but found himself being shoved to the ground by a sudden whirlwind of motion. Then, a vicious barrage of blows rained on him from every angle, until at last, he was picked up by an inhuman force.

  Asriel stared into Cesare Borgia’s eyes, seeing in them the panic of a man unused to fear. With one hand pinning him to the wall, he used the other to tear away that hideous mask. He wrinkled his nose in revulsion at the sight of the decomposing flesh that it had covered. He growled, “Oh, Cesare. You fancy yourself the next Alexander. I knew him once, and you are nothing like that beautiful man. You may have a fraction of his genius, but where he had the heart of a lion, you are a pathetic beast. How dare you strike me, a man who has fought for you, bled for you?”

  “You are a demon, come to drag me to hell. Well, away, vile one. My father is the Pope of Rome and in his name, and the divine power given unto him by Christ, I order you to return to the pits,” Cesare blustered. The powerful hand released him, and he saw Asriel begin to shrink back, towards the darkness of the cell. Cesare vowed that he would build the greatest cathedral in all of Europe in gratitude
for his deliverance. He jeered at the foul beast, “That’s right. Run from me. I am God’s servant and you cannot hurt me. I am your master.”

  Asriel could not control himself any longer. It began as a low rumble, but soon, he was cackling madly, like he imagined a true demon of the Christian faith might do. Cesare’s mangled face put on an incredibly amusing display of doubt, then dismay and finally, sheer terror as he realized that he was being toyed with. It only made Asriel laugh harder. Cesare began to run, only to be swiftly tackled to the ground. He found himself being lifted up, and then roughly thrown into the cell with the soiled corpse of the late Vitelli. He looked at Asriel, finding no mercy in those hickory eyes.

  “Now listen up, you little bastard, I’m going to tell you something and you’re going to carry it to the grave. No one will believe you if you speak of it, and your beloved father will have to execute you for blasphemy. If he doesn’t, I will come and personally hang your diseased entrails from the top of the Castel Sant’Angelo. Understood?”

  Cesare nodded quickly in assent.

  “Good. I am no demon. As far as I know, there is no such thing and your Christ was delusional. My name is not Micheletto, it is Asriel. The only Gods I’ve ever known are the light of the sun during warm days and that of the stars in the terrible night. I came into existence long before your ancestors came down from the trees and began to walk upright. Yes,” Asriel rolled his eyes, “you are descended from apes. Get over it. I will be here long after you are naught but ash and longer still. I believed in you Cesare. For all your personal flaws, I believed that you could bring back the ancient glory of Rome. I see now that I was blinded by hope. I will not bother to stain my hands with your blood, for you, vain mortal, will soon know death regardless. Not by disease, but by your own conceit. I bid you farewell; we will not meet again.”

  With that, Asriel sprinted up the stairs to the surface, ignoring Cesare’s pleas, “Wait! Stay. Please, I beg of you. I am sorry. Join me and we will conquer the world.” Realizing that it was futile, Cesare went silent. He sat there alone but for Vitelli’s cadaver, contemplating what had just occurred. After what he had seen, he did not doubt Asriel’s word. Cesare had never believed in what his father preached anyways. He suspected the old pontiff didn’t either. It was just an easy way to control the masses. Infuriated, he stood and kicked a nearby barrel, feeling a momentary rush of satisfaction as it tumbled to the ground. He had wasted the opportunity of a lifetime. That man could have won him Italy. It was all that bastard Vitelli’s fault. Cesare had taken back his army, but in the end, Vitelli had cost him the world. He took his revenge on the man’s corpse, ruining his expensive attire with Vitelli’s blood. Unknown to him, Asriel had lingered at the top of the stairs, observing him. As Cesare desecrated the corpse of his enemy, the immortal turned away. He had seen enough.

  Humanity, for me, is when we don't use differences be it morphological, behavioural or emotional to know the world. It is the unity which springs from the diversity of the human race and the harmony of all souls singing together where there's no existence of you and me, just us. Complete and pure dissolution of any discrimination of either body or mind.

  - Dedicated to my Guru, from Durga Bhavani, India.

  26

  “Asriel, awaken,” a musical voice called, coaxing him out of his sleep. Odd, he recognized that voice. He stirred, opening his eyes and seeing that it was still dark outside. Shocked, he perceived three graceful figures gazing at him. Three faces that he had not seen in a long time. He grinned, standing to embrace each of them. Ashmadu. Nuratum. Iltani.

  “Brother, Sisters! It has been so long. I have missed you,” he gushed.

  “Oh Asriel, you are dear to us. If only we came in friendship,” Ashmadu lamented.

  “I do not understand…” Asriel stepped away from them, confused.

  “Brother, what you are doing here, it is madness. We cannot permit it to continue,” Nuratum declared.

  “How dare you? How dare you come to my home, my Babylon, and attempt to take it from me,” Asriel snarled, fury beginning to contort his features.

  “Asriel, we are truly sorry. We know that the death of Belit has not been easy for you. She was beloved by all of us. As was Naharai. Neither of them would have wanted you to do this. The world must go on, brother, and bringing ruin to the mortals will not bring our kin back. This city is a memory, a sweet memory for you. Would you have it turn sour? Another Uruk? Please, come away with us,” Iltani tried to reason with him.

  “Do not dare to speak her name! She was the best of us all, far better than any of you. Traitors! Get away from here. Do not force me to harm you,” he fumed.

  “Asriel, we are not mortals. You cannot threaten us. You must know that you cannot stand against the three of us at once,” Ashmadu replied impassively.

  “How did you find me?”

  “We have spent the past few months travelling east to partake in the Hindu Kānvar Yātrā. We wished to walk, like in the olden days. During a brief stop in the outskirts of Karbala, we encountered a soldier and his child heading towards the city. They were absolutely terrified, speaking of the devil himself leading an army of strange men to the ruins of Babylon. By the way that they described what had occurred, we knew that it could only have been you,” Ashmadu explained.

  A horrible thought took a hold of Asriel, “How did you get in here? Where are my soldiers?”

  “No one will remember what happened here. We burned the corpses.” Iltani hesitated, taken aback by the grief that had appeared on Asriel’s face. “I am sorry, but you should have let them be. You should not have disturbed their simple existence. In your arrogance, you brought ruin to them and you alone must carry the guilt of their deaths.”

  “The Yacumo women and children were meant to arrive today. There were also a few prisoners. They are all innocent. Will you at least spare them?”

  “No one will remember what you did,” Iltani said, pulling a bloodied purple flower from her pocket and offering it to Asriel, who dropped it to the floor with an anguished cry.

  “Do you delight in tormenting me? She was a child! You monsters. You are no better than the dark-” Asriel raged, before he was silenced by a stinging slap from Nuratum.

  “Do not compare us to that horror, for it took the lives of our brothers and sisters. No Asriel, we are not the monsters. It is you. You, who brought this fate upon them all. It was your pride and your grief that caused this. You have forever marred beautiful Belit’s memory, for you did this in her name.” Suddenly, her face softened. “I have walked the streets of Delhi and heard the cries of children begging for bread from strangers. I have seen the shells of once great American cities, where schoolchildren live on the empty promise of a dream. I have travelled to villages where children still herd cattle instead of going to school. I have heard the plight of refugees denied the chance for a new life and thrust back into the hell that they left behind. All of these people and many more could be taken care of for a long time if mortal nations gave up their armies, even for a short while. This is not a natural state of being. The world commits many acts of inevitable and senseless cruelty, but this, at least, is not its doing. This is artificial. It is inexcusable because it can be avoided. In an already hostile world, how dare they divide amongst themselves and create their own tragedies, when they should be united to solve the problems inherent in it instead? Yet I have also seen the Blue Mosque of Istanbul and the Pyramids of Egypt. I have seen the towering skyscrapers of New York and the Cathedral at Notre Dame. I have heard sweet song from all over the Earth and seen the finest paintings. I have heard the ancient stories of religions and cultures. There is true beauty in the human world. This contrast is what separates us from the beasts. Humans alone, of all the creatures of the Earth, have the ability to choose. Sometimes, the world shakes when we make decisions. It doesn’t matter if we’re immortal or not. Why not choose kindness over anger? Why not choose love over fear? Asriel, you will leave this place. Y
ou will not return until your heart is at peace. Remember always that because of you, a jungle far away is no longer home to the cries of children or the joy of a simple people.”

  “As you wish,” Asriel muttered, despondent. “As you wish,” he repeated, spitting the words.

  “Take this,” Nuratum said, pushing a carefully folded piece of ancient, stained parchment into his coat pocket, “Naharai gave it to us a long time ago. He was on the brink of madness, and fled before we could stop him. We believe that he meant for you to have it.”

  “We are truly sorry, brother,” Iltani reached for his shoulder, but he pushed her hand away, giving her a furious glare. He had lost his love, his empire and now, his remaining kin. Turning away from them, he left the room. They let him pass, gazing upon him with lovely eyes full of pity.

  He walked through the crumbling gateway to the palace of his dreams, and into the cold starlight. Indeed, he could never return to Babylon. No longer did it shine in his memory with the light of a morning star. He had fallen and it had fallen with him. It was nothing but a wreck, a monument to his own illustrious fallacy. Babylon belonged in desolate ruin, and Asriel hoped that man would never again seek to build where his dreams had perished.

  Yet, past his rage and frustration, Nuratum’s words walked beside him and the paper that she had given him sat next to a heart that feared what it would find within.

  ***

  Asriel and Jeremy sat in the Alexandria. It had not changed since he had last been there. It was still filled with the lively conversations of happy mortals and delicious scents wafting in from the kitchens. The paella was made to perfection as always, and Barry was still cheerfully welcoming guests into the restaurant. Yet for Asriel, it was a desolate, barren place without Belit to share it with him. He realised that perhaps she had been right to keep the truth from him. As Ambrose and Courtney, they had been so happy. Unburdened by their immortality, they could enjoy every moment as if it might be their last. Now that she was gone, he wished that they had spent their entire lives that way. It had not seemed so important when they thought that they would live forever.