“They’re both the same to me,” I said.
He looked at me for a moment and then burst out in laughter.
“I am Stia,” he said. “That one over there is Moloko.”
I turned to look at the man who had spoken first. He was much older than Stia. Judging by his grey hair, he had seen at least fifty years. He was lean and athletic looking though.
“I am sorry to meet you here,” he said.
“Don’t tell him that,” said Stia. “He will think that we aren’t happy here.”
"So, you enjoy being chained to the wall?" I asked.
"Doesn't everyone?" he replied, laughing even more heartily than before.
After a few minutes, Stia and Moloko both became quiet. Several other men down the line were whispering, but it was quiet enough that when my stomach growled out for lack of food, it was easily heard.
"You will eat soon," said Moloko. "They feed us twice a day, usually rice. You were not in very good shape when you came in, but you seem to have perked back up. You will feel much better once you eat. Do you know where you are?"
"This is the city of Mu, and this is the arena. I imagine that they are going to make us fight."
"So, you understand the situation," said Stia. "We fight every other day. Sometimes we are pitted against other men like ourselves. Sometimes we fight wild beasts."
"If you survive one hundred battles, they set you free," said someone from the far side of the room."
"That is a rumor," said Moloko. "I don't believe it."
"One hundred fights is a lot," said Stia. "Rumor or not, I don't believe anyone has survived that long."
I listened to Moloko, Stia, and the other men talk and learned quite a bit about them. Most were Tokayana, and had lived in the coastal villages, travelling west with safaris. Some were Chikuyana and spoke only token amounts of English. Just about the time that they had finished telling me their stories, a jangling of metal indicated someone unlocking the portal to the outside. The heavy wooden door opened and a group of women walked in carrying bowls full of rice balanced in their arms. They didn’t speak, and indeed barely seemed to notice us, but set a bowl down on the floor just inside the reach of each prisoner.
I honestly don't even remember eating what was in the bowl. I think it was rice. It was gone before I even realized it. Having not eaten for days, I was rejuvenated by even this small bit of sustenance. Afterwards I fell asleep as did many of the others. I woke up briefly a few times but I think I slept through the evening, the night, and then well into the morning. The next thing I knew, the women had returned with more rice, taking the old bowls with them when they left.
"Today is the big day," said Moloko, "for all of us."
"How so?"
"Today you fight in the arena, and we get to see if we will speak with you at our next meal."
About an hour after we had eaten, they came for us. The hulking Tumukua warriors were a match for the brutes that had brought me to the city. For all I knew, they were the same individuals. They unfastened us from the wall, but didn’t tie our hands. I was thankful even for this much because I was tired of not being in control of my own hands. They herded us out of the room, down a long corridor, and before I knew it we were in another room. The door was closed behind us with a clang, and I realized that none of our captors had entered with us.
Around the chamber, leaning against the wall or tossed haphazardly on the floor, were weapons that might have come right out of a museum: swords, spears, wooden shields, and a few helmets. The other prisoners quickly grabbed up weapons. Especially sought after it seems were the swords and shields, because by the time I was able to grab something the only thing left was a spear. It was a long smooth shaft tipped by a bronze spear point.
No sooner had I secured my weapon than a door on the opposite end opened. Beyond it was a hallway illuminated by bright light beyond. Without direction, the other prisoners, about twenty, including myself, lined up. They seemed to jockey for the spot as close as possible to the front of the line. Then there was the sound of a horn and everyone ran forward. Suddenly we were standing on the sand, in the bright sunshine. And all around us was a great stadium full of screaming spectators.
I quickly looked around to get a glimpse of the people in the stands. There was a mixture of the caveman types that were the Tumukua, and the bronze-skinned, more modern people that made up the other tribes of Elizagaea. I didn’t have much time to look the spectators over, because my attention was drawn to the far side of the arena. Here were about twenty Tumukua warriors. They were decked out in bronze breastplates and all carried shields and broadswords.
“The home team,” I said.
The Tumukua warriors marched confidently across the sand toward our group. A couple of our fellows rushed to meet them, but most hung back, or skirted around to the sides. Those who rushed forward were dispatched quickly. I waited until one of the enemy was engaged in slicing up one of the captives, and then used that moment to launch my spear at him. It lodged in his side and he fell to the ground.
I rushed forward to grab a sword, either from the fellow I had just speared, or the man that he had just cut down. Just as I reached down to pick up the closest weapon, I saw out of the corner of my eye, another Tumukua bearing down upon me. Grabbing the sword, I rolled out of his way and came to my feet just in time to take a swing at him. He blocked with his shield and took a swing at me with his own sword. I had to jump back to avoid its point, but he left himself off balance and open to an attack. I drove my sword through his neck and he fell to the sand amid an arterial spray of blood.
I turned to my left to see Moloko, with his own sword, fighting another enemy warrior. I was surprised at the skill the older fellow showed, but he wouldn’t be able to hold the big Tumukua warrior for long. I stepped behind the armored brute and sliced the backs of his legs, sending him falling to the ground, where Moloko made quick work of him.
“Come on!” I called. “If we work together, we can take them.”
Moloko and a couple of others who were close by rallied to me. We arranged ourselves a sort of ad hoc wedge formation and waded into the enemy. I stabbed the first one, and the two men to my left joined in taking down another. I cut down a third, who was engaged in attacking Stia. In what seemed like no time at all, and probably wasn’t more than two or three minutes in actuality, we had vanquished all of our opponents. Looking around however, it was easy to determine that our side had not gone unscathed. In addition to Moloko, Stia, and myself, there were only two others of our original twenty.
It was at this point that I noticed the shouts and screams of the crowd. They were roaring their approval. I wondered that they weren’t disappointed at our defeat of their champions, but apparently any form of blood letting was acceptable.
All of this gave me a much better chance to look around than I had before the match. They were, as I had mentioned before, a mixture of the cavemen-like Tumukua and the other natives. There was also an apparent delineation of affluence. At the end of the stadium where we had entered, the stands were filled with those who dressed no different than any of the tribesman I had seen. In other words, they wore a relatively small amount of clothing made of animal skins. On either side of the stadium were people who wore more, including a few items of woven cloth. Finally, the far end was filled with individuals who were richly arrayed in items of shimmering fabric, which looked at least from a distance to be silk.
In the center of this congregation of the affluent citizens of Mu, was a sort of boxed seat. Sitting in the center of this was what could only have been the king. He was a big fellow, resplendent in colorful robes and wearing a small gold crown. Crowded around him were a dozen women, each wearing large golden bangles on their wrists and ankles and nothing else but a few bits of silk. And around them, standing at attention, were twenty armored and heavily armed warriors. The king growled something to those around him and pointed right at me.
While I was looking aroun
d, the passage through which we had entered was reopened. I hadn’t even noticed that once we had exited, it had been covered with a metal gate. Stia tugged at my shoulder, indicating that it was time for us to leave. The others carried their weapons with them, so I did as well. I even picked up a spear from the sand to add to my sword. Once we were back in the staging room however, everyone dropped the weapons and other gear on the floor. I was loath to do that, but the door at the other end of room opened, and more than twenty men in armor and carrying swords entered. It occurred to me then that these fellows didn’t look at all like the guards who had brought us here, but instead like those warriors surrounding the king.
One of the newcomers waved toward me and grunted out half a dozen words. Of course I couldn’t understand any of them.
“Tell them that I can’t understand them,” I said, turning to Moloko.
“He says that we must both go with him,” he replied after a brief exchange with the Tumukua.
I tossed aside my weapons and took my place in the procession. They led Moloko and me out of the chamber and through a long series of stone corridors. We went up several staircases until I decided we must be near the highest levels of the coliseum or an attached building. At last we were brought into a great room. At the far end was throne upon a dais, and sitting here was the creature I had previously deduced to be the King of Mu.
To say the king was an ugly brute might have been giving brutes a bad turn. He was a hulking figure, surely once a great warrior because his arms, legs, and chest were stout with muscles. But he also was possessed of a huge pot belly. All of the Tumukua looked slightly less than human, due to their prehistoric origins, but this man somehow looked even more primitive. His huge brow ridge almost hid his beady little black eyes. His slack mouth and protruding tongue made his lantern jaw seem even larger. He was surrounded by women. Two sat at his feet, holding on to each of his legs. Two stood behind him, cooling him with large leaf-shaped fans. One stood beside him, her arm draped around his shoulders. Finally, one woman lay draped across his lap, as he rudely fondled her. One of those with the fans was a Tumukua, but all the others were from coastal tribes, and they were universally beautiful and almost completely unclothed. At first glance, they all appeared to clinging to the king of their own free will, but the shackles around their wrists, ankles, and necks, as well as the hollow look in their eyes told a different story.
The king grunted out a few sentences, which Moloko translated.
“King Lataska is pleased with your fighting skill. He says you will spared combat in the coming games. He has something special planned for you.” Then he said a few words to the king, who replied with a nod. “I have asked the king if I can stay and share your fate.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“If we survive, we may be released…”
The grotesque sound of Lataska laughing interrupted him, and then he grunted out several dozen more of his growling words.
“We will be taken to special cells tonight and will be well fed,” said Moloko. “He also offers each of us one of his women.”
I looked at those poor slave girls. The longing in their eyes was pitiful to behold.
Chapter Eleven: The King of Mu
Moloko and I were herded down hallway after hallway and through several large chambers to a pair of rooms, where we were separated. I can’t speak for him, but my room was the most luxurious that I had seen on the continent. The stone walls were covered with faded frescos of city life in Mu, or what the city life in Mu must have been like at one time: smiling people trading in the marketplace, children gathered around a whiskered old man as he spoke, men and women playing a ball game that looked a little like rugby. In addition to the art, the room had a large bed, with a soft mattress filled with downy feathers. There was a large brass tub sitting on a fluffy rug. Though it was not nearly as large as modern bathtubs, it was obviously intended for that purpose, and was not too different from those used in rural households back in America. Along the far wall was an open window. Crossing over to it, I looked out to see a splendid view of the city.
The metropolis was wedged between two mountain ranges, in a small valley. Along the base of the mountains were terraced areas where agriculture must have once been practiced, though now they were overgrown and the few buildings that could be seen near them, through the mist dropping down from the peaks, were nothing but ruins. In fact, a great deal of the city was in ruins too. There were many serviceable buildings and it was plain to see that many of them were still in use, but there were others that had crumbled due to time or some natural disaster, and their ruins, and the debris from them, had been left where it had fallen. It seemed obvious to me that the only reason so much of this once great city was still habitable was because of the amazing craftsmanship of the builders. Those who remained living here had no knowledge of how to keep it up, or at least they had no inclination to do so.
I heard a noise behind me and turned to see a woman stepping into the room. She carried a large clay pot on her shoulder. I recognized her as one of the two who had been fanning King Lataska. She was quite beautiful. Long black hair framed an oval face with large expressive eyes, a noble nose, and full lips. Her copper skin enhanced a figure that would have been the envy of any Gibson Girl. She carried the pot across the room and set it down beside the brass tub.
“You bathe,” she said in soft but even soprano.
I walked over and peeled off my clothes. Recent events had made me far less concerned with either modesty or propriety than I might otherwise have been. Specifically, I was tired and filthy dirty. I sat down as well as I could in the small tub and let her pour hot water over me. Then she soaped up something that looked quite a bit like a sponge, but was made of much stiffer stuff, and scrubbed me from top to bottom, moving me this way and that and bidding me stand when necessary, so that she could get to every inch of me. When that was done, she rinsed me once more with hot water and dried me with a soft, fluffy towel.
“What is your name?” I asked her.
“Akia.” She pointed to the bed. “You lay.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her retrieve a small light green glass bottle. She returned and looked down at me.
“You lay.” She pointed at the bottle. “Oil.”
I lay back and rolled onto my stomach. She sat on the bed beside me, and poured a small amount of the oil onto my back, and then began massaging my muscles, starting at my shoulders.
“Are you Tokayana or Chikuyana?” I asked.
“Sintoyana.”
Akia was very skilled at her job. She massaged my shoulders and arms, then went to my feet and began working her way up my legs. At some point around my calves, I fell asleep.
* * * * *
It was cool, though not as cold as it should have been that time of year. The sun had been down several hours and the front walk was so dark that I had to traverse it by memory. I could feel the chilly breeze blowing though my trouser legs. As I made my way up the steps, I pulled my right hand out of my coat pocket to fish my key from my trouser pocket. I pressed the key into the lock, rotated it to the right, and then opened the door. I peeled off my coat, only then kicking the door closed behind me. I flipped the latch too.
I heard voices coming from the parlor and noted for the first time that the parlor door, which I don’t think I had ever seen shut before, was now closed. I crossed the foyer and put my hand on the knob, but didn’t turn it. I could plainly hear a man’s voice, a familiar one at that, but couldn’t quite place to whom it belonged. I hadn’t quite caught the first part of his sentence, but my mind pieced together the end. Then I heard Trudy’s reply and it was as if the pieces of a puzzle all suddenly fell into place.
* * * * *
I woke up with a start, flailing my arms, but then felt a warm hand on my chest, restraining me. I looked over, unsure for a moment whether I was going to see Gertrude or Kanana, but it was neither. The Sintoyana woman named
Akia looked at me with her large brown eyes.
“Sleep,” she said.
“No.” With as little vocabulary as we apparently shared, there seemed little likelihood that I could explain. There was absolutely no way that I could have gone back to sleep. At that moment, I doubted I would ever sleep again.
“Eat?” she asked.
I nodded.
Rolling toward me, she kissed me gently on the cheek and then got up and walked to the door. As I watched her hips sway, I couldn’t help but compare her to the other women I knew. Akia was full figured and very attractive. Gertrude was a similar sort, soft and curvy, with an hourglass figure. They both sat neatly on the spectrum of female attractiveness, a little left of center, toward plump and sultry and away from boyish and cute. I had encountered the full range of women on my travels around the world. Then I thought about Kanana. There was no place on the chart of womanhood for her. She was much more slender than Akia or Gertrude. In many ways she leaned toward the other end of the spectrum, but whereas many women were thin and cute, she had something else. Beneath her flesh were well-toned muscles. Before I had seen her, I never would have believed that a woman could be so athletic, let alone remain feminine while doing so.
The young woman returned after only a few minutes. She brought with her a bowl of sliced assorted fruits, which though they were welcome, seemed an awfully small meal to me.
“You eat tonight,” she said, perhaps sensing my disappointment. “Eat with king.”
“All right,” I said, taking the bowl.
“Eat. Then…”
She held up a piece of clothing that I hadn’t noticed her carrying. It was a sort of robe with colorful vertical stripes, not too different from those I had observed being worn by the more affluent patrons of the arena. Glancing at the rags that were all that was left of my own clothing, I simply nodded as I ate. She smiled and once again left.
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