Glorious Companions

by Summer Lee

  The number of guards had been increased, and for good reason. Behind closed doors, there had been rumors of war. Kenana wondered if even the fiercest warriors of Adah could conquer her brutal enemies, the Nephilim.

  Kenana, the sole woman in the room, sat on the throne without hesitation…because to ask permission was to invite someone to stop her. She discreetly arranged the folds of her gown over her large belly and sat with her back straight in the cushioned chair that was decorated in gold.

  Prince Gad, a handsome young man dressed in ornate armor crafted of leather and hammered metals, stood and clapped his hands for attention. When the room quieted, he spoke.

  “If the council approves,” said Prince Gad announced loudly, “let us crown her royal highness, Princess Kenana, as Queen of Adah.” He bowed his head respectfully to her, prompting a few others to do the same. Ham did not even nod to her. She wasn’t surprised.

  Kenana kept her face carefully stoic, even though she was pleased that she suddenly had a champion in Gad. It was good to have outspoken allies in the royal court. Even just one.

  The gentlemen in attendance, princes and noblemen, priests and generals, murmured amongst themselves about her possible coronation as Queen of Adah. There was much discussion and she strained her ears to hear the separate conversations.

  On the walls of the great room behind the noblemen hung mounted heads of many fearsome beasts, frozen in time, their lips raised in ferocious snarls, with fangs bared. Princess Kenana averted her eyes from the hunting trophies. Posed to look more vicious than they had ever been when alive, the stuffed dead creatures were just more proof that mankind was more savage than the animals they destroyed.

  In the front row, Kenana saw Gad gesticulating to the older nobleman sitting next to him. If not for the fury that creased his face, the angry man could have been as handsome as his younger brother, Prince Gad. Prince Ham was Kenana’s deceased husband’s oldest son. And her nemesis.

  Finally, Prince Ham stood, and as he did so, he withdrew his curved scimitar and turned it easily in one hand. Only a slightly threatening gesture, certainly it was meant to be a subtle message to Kenana that Ham was a man of war. A man of action, he was used to getting what he wanted. By might, rather than by law. She expected that of him. Confrontation.

  “What gives this foreigner, this woman, the right to rule over us?” Ham demanded. As he spoke, he lifted the sword and pointed it at his younger brother. Kenana knew such swords were very heavy, and yet, Prince Ham held it steady with one hand.

  He is a strong man, she thought. Strong and stubborn and prone to violence. A wicked combination.

  Gad did not seem intimidated by his older brother, nor did he back down, Kenana noticed. “My brother, as you are well aware,” Gad said, “our father’s own brother recently died without leaving behind any offspring or wives, thus clearing the way for the next in line.”

  “The next in line is—”

  Gad cut off his furious brother. “The next in line is our father’s widow, Princess Kenana.”

  “But I am our father’s eldest son,” said Ham, spitting the words. As he spoke, he emphasized each word by slamming the point of his sword into the flagstone. “And I will reign as King of Mesopotamia.” He turned and faced Kenana, who sat impassively on the throne. She was used to Ham’s outbursts, but his next declaration was meant to humiliate her: “I will not have the throne stolen from me by a simple farm girl.”

  Ham had worked himself up, his chest heaving, pushing against the restraints of his dress armor. Kenana regarded him with little warmth. She held his gaze until he turned away. Though her heart was hammering, she maintained her outward composure as the Princess she had learned to become. Her very life depended on it, that she did not escalate conflict with other royals.

  Kenana saw that Prince Gad regarded his brother Ham with something close to sympathy. He turned to the group of legal representatives from the various temples, all sitting together off to the side and looking dignified.

  “Gentlemen, please advise my brother Ham of the law of the land.”

  An elderly man, wearing a long white robe embroidered with gold thread, used a gnarled cane to slowly push himself up. “Mesopotamian law allows the widow of a king or a prince to rightly ascend to the throne upon the death of her husband,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong, though he leaned on the cane for support. Now, he looked at Ham. “I’m afraid, good prince, that you have no claim to the throne. Not while Princess Kenana lives. You, of course, are second in line to the throne. That is, unless she marries after a full year of mourning.”

  Kenana was startled by this last bit of information but tried not to show it. If she married in a year, Ham would lose any chance of the throne. Forever. That gave him a deadline for action, one which put her in a very dangerous position.

  He will kill me, thought Kenana. He will kill me the first chance he gets, and claim the throne.

  Ham had his supporters, and he had made sure to bring them along on this important day. Grumbles and hissing filled the back of the throne room. When the temple representative sat, Prince Ham regarded Kenana again, cold fury in his eyes.

  Kenana was used to others wanting to kill her, and, except for Gad, she had no human protector now that Prince Jubal was dead. Asher was not here when she needed him either. She would have to fight her own battles. In her current condition, it would be a battle of wits, of politics, and of manners.

  Were things always going to be this way? Complicated?

  Just last year, a Nephilim, a giant sired by fallen angels, had wanted her blood. Prince Jubal’s head servant, Asher, who had been a common slave as a boy, had saved her. He was a slave she had set free and had not seen for many months. Asher had, in fact, been a Goel, one who had been given the powers of Heaven to protect those on Earth. Until she had come to Adah to marry Prince Jubal, Kenana had not known that Asher had made it his life’s mission to watch over her. Now he was gone, and she missed him more than she thought possible. Her heart was nearly broken.

  For now, Prince Ham’s cold stare meant little to Kenana. Ham was a simple man who she was sure she could handle. He smiled, lifting his lips and showing her his teeth.

  Like a dog.

  You will not be the first to want me dead, young prince, she thought. Nor will you be the last.

  As if reading her thoughts, Prince Ham sheathed his sword in frustration and turned away. His supporters trailed after him to the back of the throne room and they stood there, talking angrily among themselves. She tried to burn their faces into her memory. Know your enemies.

  At this point, her nomination for Queen went to an official vote, and Prince Gad asked each member of the council for approval. One by one, the heads nodded solemnly, and Kenana breathed a sigh of relief.

  “It is official, then,” said the young prince, smiling. He looked at her. “All hail Queen Kenana of Adah, may she rule in peace, all the days of her life.”

  There was a dual meaning in his words that did not escape her. From Ham, that would have been a threat, but from Gad, it was a warning.

  The council repeated Gad’s words, and Kenana found herself blushing mightily. As was expected of her, Kenana pushed herself up slowly from the gilded ivory throne to address those in attendance. Slowly, because she was heavy with child. She felt the men’s eyes upon her. In particular, their eyes were upon her massive belly, which contained what was surely an enormous infant.

  If only they knew the truth about the baby, she thought, terrified at what was to come.

  “Thank you, Mesopotamians,” she said. “As queen, my first directive is to appoint an interim ruler.”

  There were stunned gasps from the crowd. “As you can plainly see, I am heavy with child. So heavy that I will surely give birth any day.”

  She paused again, and some of the looks of confusion had vanished. They understood. “I have taken the liberty of consulting with the legal representatives, and they have assured me that it is withi
n my rights as queen to appoint an interim replacement. Of course, one who must be approved by this esteemed assembled court.”

  Kenana paused and looked them all in the eye. Her gaze then settled on her deceased husband’s youngest son.

  She said, “I choose Prince Gad to act in my stead until I am fit to rule again.”

  The younger prince looked up sharply at Kenana, his mouth dropping open almost comically. Kenana was pleased to see that many of the men in attendance were nodding in agreement. His older brother, however, stood motionless, furious. His face reddened.

  Kenana looked again at the younger prince. “Do not be so surprised, Prince Gad. I have known you to be fair and just, honorable and wise. Although you are technically my stepson, I am honored to call you a dear friend. You will be a fine ruler until such time as I am strong enough to return to my duties.”

  The young prince collected himself, strode over to her, bowed deeply, and took her hand into his. He kissed it lightly, as was the custom.

  “It is an honor, my queen. And I shall honorably hold court until your return.”

  “May we have peace in our land,” she said by way of ending this uncomfortable meeting and dismissing everyone.

  Prince Ham suddenly lunged forward while drawing his great curved sword. Soldiers were at Kenana’s side in an instant, their own swords drawn against Ham.

  Ham stopped in mid-lunge and, to his credit, appeared stunned by his own sudden lack of self-control and by the soldiers who had made clear their loyalties. He lowered his sword and backed off a few paces. The soldiers, however, continued to surround her and Prince Gad. They looked to her to see if she would command them to retaliate against Ham. It was up to her now. She could have Ham killed for treason, but doing so would set a bloody path in motion for Mesopotamia, one from which there would be no return.

  Kenana shook her head at her guards and strode fearlessly forward. She stood tall next to the fuming older prince but looked at his younger brother, completely dismissing Ham as an imminent threat, which temporarily put him in his place. “Esteemed gentlemen of the court,” she said loudly. “I present to you, Prince Gad, interim ruler of all Mesopotamia. Do I have your concurrence?”

  The votes came instantly and loudly, followed by cheers and applause.

  She had done the right thing by not escalating the conflict between Ham and herself. Her knees shook under her gown and she knew that no one could see, but it was clear that she needed rest after this difficult meeting.

  Prince Ham looked out over the assembled noblemen and generals, scholars and healers, and then sheathed his sword loudly and stepped forward into the crowd, shouldering his way through.

  Kenana turned to the young prince. “May El be with you, Prince Ham,” she said loudly and generously. You’ll need Him, she thought.

  Gad leaned forward and whispered, “I have something to ask you, my queen. But in private.”

  “Then I shall see you tonight,” said Kenana, and threw her cloak around her shoulders and stepped off the throne platform, trailed by a small legion of loyal soldiers who held their weapons at the ready.

  Chapter Two

  Kenana was grateful to escape the stuffy throne room and the overinflated egos of the men.

  She stepped out into the cool air of the surprisingly overcast day. A faint mist hung over the rich land, obscuring the nearby mud-and-brick dwellings. Kenana drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes and felt the child within her shift, reacting to her calm resolve. Eyes still closed, she prayed to El to guide Gad, her stepson, and to give him wisdom and guidance as he led their people, temporarily.

  A lot could happen, even temporarily.

  She finished her prayers and, with the soldiers waiting patiently behind her, Kenana mounted her faithful old donkey, refusing the help of the burly captain of the guard. She had been mounting and riding Mae for more years than she could remember, and she was not about to receive help now. Queen or not—pregnant or not.

  Riding atop her old mount, trailed closely by the soldiers, Kenana admitted she did not look very queen-like as her donkey plodded slowly down the center of the village, toward her palace, a half-day’s ride away. A palace she had inherited from her late husband, Prince Jubal.

  Yet, she did not care for making a show of riding out in style. This queen chose to continue riding Mae, who reminded Kenana of her past life when she had been raised simply on a farm—a past life full of hard work and bright days and a close, loving family.

  Well, sort of.

  Kenana surmised that her own mother had schemed to sell her to the elderly Prince Jubal in return for a small fortune—what else could it have been that would convince her to send off her daughter to a foreign land to wed an old man—an old man who was now dead.

  With the proclamation that she was to be sent away at eighteen to marry a vile old man, albeit a prince, Kenana’s idyllic world had been shattered instantly. Before she could blink or think, she had been thrust into court life, into intrigue, and worst of all, into the very bed of the elderly prince who had once molested her as a small child.

  Now twenty years old, Kenana shuddered again. She cinched her robe tighter around her and unconsciously stroked her enormous belly. The babe within shifted at her touch, moving toward her hand.

  He is a big baby. Perhaps too big. That thought alone sent her heart racing. The babe within kicked suddenly and painfully. What do I have growing in me? she wondered, thinking of the fallen angel, Malluch. She shook off the worry. Perhaps her child would be human…Prince Jubal’s baby.

  Many girls would want to be in your place, she reminded herself. Indeed, many girls schemed and plotted their way right into the beds of princes, without their mothers’ help. Many girls would risk death to be Queen of Mesopotamia. She was doing that very thing right now.

  Good for them, thought Kenana. At least they knew what they had growing inside of them. She was terrified at what she carried in her body. What would it be like, to mother a child of a fallen angel?

  Kenana rode past a small building composed of baked mud bricks. It was the town well, the source of all water for those who lived within the city walls. Even now, people were milling around, gathering their daily drinking water in leather buckets and earthenware pitchers, watching her curiously, not yet aware that they had a new queen. She could tell that many recognized the phalanx of trailing soldiers, and bowed deeply as Kenana rode by.

  Still somewhat embarrassed by all the attention she now received—after all, she had recently been one of them—she smiled and nodded, and discreetly urged her old mount to get a move on.

  She passed the open-air market where farmers were selling their produce, side by side with traders from foreign lands selling their colorful, varied wares. As usual, an abundance of camels, donkeys and goats cluttered the marketplace. In response, the burly captain shouted a command and a path magically parted in the crowd before Kenana, as livestock owners rushed to push aside their confused, milling creatures.

  Emerging from the cluster of animals was yet another animal, something unlike anything Kenana had ever seen before. Riding high upon it was a very distinguished gentleman, dressed in an embroidered robe and head-cloth. He saw Kenana and the soldiers and bowed deeply. Kenana stopped before him.

  “Pardon me, sir,” said Kenana. “But what do you call your animal? I mean, it is a horse, surely, but what a magnificent creature he is.”

  “This, my fair maiden, is an Arabian horse. A stallion.”

  “How may I get one?” she asked.

  “You would have to go to Arabia, madam.” He bowed again. “Or have Arabia come to you.”

  “I would like that,” she said. “Good day to you, kind sir.”

  “And to you, madam.”

  And he spurred his regal creature forward. He was head and shoulders taller than Kenana’s soldiers, who were riding on steeds half the size of the Arabian. Kenana watched in amazement as the man and creature disappeared.

  I am going
to have to get one of those Arabian horses.

  *

  After a long day’s journey into night, as Kenana passed through the palace gates of Adah, she was reminded again that her deceased husband had surely outdone himself. He had designed the palace himself and it was a magnificent structure composed of sweeping carved wood, ornate iron bars and dizzying spires.

  Despite his many faults, thought Kenana, the man was a true artist.

  She rode between the towers and through the gate. The guards on duty bowed deeply. The wind suddenly whipped up and a dense fog descended to the ground. Kenana frowned at the sudden change as she approached the palace walls. Lately, the weather had been unusual.

  Perhaps an omen of things to come?

  Kenana did not know. She was not a true prophet, unlike others in her family. Now, she wrapped her cloak tighter about her shoulders. The mist had an isolating effect, and she suddenly, once again, felt empty inside. She missed her freed servant, Asher. She also longed to be free, to be far away from court intrigue and the egos of power-hungry men. Mostly, she wanted love and peace and joy.

  What woman wouldn’t?

  Kenana drew another deep, shuddering breath, and as the mist coalesced around her, she found herself at the stone steps of the great palace of Adah. She was home.

  Someday, she thought, I, too, will be free.

  Chapter Three

  A young stable boy rushed to her side and took Mae’s reins. Kenana, waving off the help of yet another stable boy, eased carefully off the old donkey.

  The burly captain of the guards, who had been trailing closely behind her, came alongside her. His small horse, almost pathetic compared to the Arabian, snorted and shook its mangy head, twin jets of steam issuing from its wide nostrils.

  “My Queen,” said the captain. “You should accept our help. Your condition is delicate…” He let his deep voice trail off, perhaps realizing that he had spoken out of place.

  Kenana, however, was never one to adhere to protocol. She waved him off. “My condition is a normal one, Captain. Every day, other women ride donkeys into town. Every day, these women do so and somehow manage without the help of stable boys or soldiers.” She gave him the hint of a smile.