The Shadow of Ararat

by Thomas Harlan

  "Oh, Jusuf, how could Sahul do this? He promised Chrosoes peace at our wedding! How can he be allied with murderers?"

  Thyatis looked around and pinned Jusuf with her gaze. "So... friend Jusuf, you want to explain how our missing companion fits into this?"

  Jusuf met her stare but then looked away. Shirin stared at Thyatis with concern.

  "Sahul is missing?" Shirin's voice was faint. "Is he dead?"

  "No," said Jusuf, slumping back into the couch, "he was as hale and hearty as ever when last I saw him in Tauris." He raised a hand to ward of the explosion about to erupt from Thyatis. "Please, my lady, the Khagan asked me to say nothing to you until he saw you again himself."

  "That's a pretty low trick, friend Khazar, to let me think he was dead for all this time!"

  "I'm sorry," Jusuf said. "My brother found it relaxing, I think, to be one of your troopers for a while. He didn't want to make your task more difficult in Tauris."

  "Surely!" Thyatis spat, "kings usually give orders to centurions, not the other way around!"

  "Wait!" Shirin said, holding up both of her hands, jeweled platinum bracelets tinkling. "Tell me the entire story, then the two of you can bicker like crows in a farmyard. Where did you meet and why? Then what happened?"

  —|—

  "And then," Thyatis finished, "your uncle got a wild hair and decided to bust into the palace and see someone important." She swirled the wine in her porcelain goblet and then took a long drink. Storytelling was thirsty work. The wine was a joy on her tongue, like rich velvet. Shirin, curled up around a velvet pillow with her small feet tucked under her, stirred under the quilts she had dragged out of a closet.

  "You really made Sahul follow your orders," she said sleepily. "And Dahvos and Jusuf? They always ignored me when I was little. He was the worst," she muttered, pointing a long lacquered nail at her uncle, who was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his back leaning against the end of the couch. "He picked on me all the time and put frogs in my hair."

  Thyatis smiled, remembering her own brothers. "That just meant he loved you."

  "Maybe." The Princess yawned. "Can I see your sword?"

  Thyatis nodded and sat down next to the Princess. She had carried the blade with her into the palace, strapped to her back under the heavy robes. Now it gleamed in the lantern light as she slid it slowly out of the silk-lined sheath. The metal shimmered, the watery surface seemingly filled with glowing light. Shirin traced the patterns with her fingers, but she did not touch the surface of the blade. She fingered the leather hilt, her fingertips tracing the grooves worn by Thyatis' hand.

  "It's sleeping," Shirin said, "and warm. Have you killed many men?"

  Thyatis returned the blade to its sheath and tugged the leather strap over the hilt to hold it snug. She turned to the Princess, her gray eyes distant and shadowed.

  "I've killed men," she said simply. "I take no joy in it."

  Shirin hugged a pillow beaded with tiny pearls to her chest, peering over the top at the Roman woman. Thyatis felt a tingle in her arms and stomach when she met the Princess's eyes. They seemed bottomless, a liquid brown, swimming with vulnerability.

  "Are you going to kill my husband?"

  Jusuf hissed in alarm and began to rise from the floor. Thyatis waved him back down.

  "Shirin," she said, "my lord, the Emperor of the West, sent me into Persia to prepare the way for his army. Your husband and my nation are at war. I am beholden to do everything I can to help win this war for my lord. But..."—she paused—"I am not here to murder your husband."

  "What will you do, then?" Shirin's voice was even, though Thyatis thought there was a tremor of fear or panic hiding behind it.

  The Roman woman shrugged her shoulders at Jusuf. "He's the one who wanted to come see you."

  Jusuf levered himself off of the floor and knelt by Shirin, holding her hand. "Little bug, I know you love the King of Kings, but the stories I've heard made me fear for you. I came here, and, yes, Thyatis, I came because of Shirin, not because of your mission, because I thought you might need help."

  Shirin stared at her uncle and took her hand back. "My husband has not been well since Maria died." Her hand crept to her face, "He thinks that he is ugly now, scarred and disfigured by the fire."

  Thyatis shook her head in puzzlement, saying: "I don't understand. What fire? Who was Maria?"

  Jusuf sighed and sat back down. He looked up at Shirin, but she saw only her own fears.

  "Maria was the first wife of Chrosoes," he began, "the daughter of the Emperor of the Eastern Empire, Maurice."

  "A Roman!" Thyatis said slowly, remembering Galen's words in his tent at Tauris. "How..."

  Jusuf glared at her and she shut up. "Please," he said, "let me tell the story. When Chrosoes was a very young man, younger than you, his father—the great king Hormazd—was murdered by one of his generals, Bahram. Chrosoes himself was set up as a puppet king for this warlord, but in time he escaped from Ctesiphon and fled into the north. He would have died in the wilderness, even with the help of his good friend, the Eastern lord Shahr-Baraz, but he had the good luck to stumble upon a camp of the Khazars.

  "My brother was the leader of that band of men and took Chrosoes in. When he learned who the boy was, he decided that he would help him. Chrosoes and Baraz traveled with us for a winter and we took them, Sahul and I, to Constantinople. Sahul thought that Chrosoes would find safety in the court of Emperor Maurice.

  "At first, we told no one who the Persian boy was, but Sahul gained a private audience with the Emperor's son, Prince Theodosius, and convinced him that with the Empire's aid, a grateful Chrosoes could be restored to the Persian throne. The Prince convinced his father, who became good friends with Chrosoes, and together, they overthrew Bahram."

  Jusuf stopped and shook his head in sorrow. "That was a good time. We rode with Chrosoes and Sahul stood at his side when Bahram was killed in the battle outside of Dastagird. That was when Chrosoes met Shirin, in the tents of our people. The boy had already agreed to marry Maurice's daughter Maria to seal the peace between the two empires, but anyone could see that he loved Shirin from the moment he saw her."

  The Princess's hand crept out of the covers and Jusuf took it in his own.

  "And there was peace," he continued, "until Maurice and all of his children were murdered by the usurper Phocas. That turned Maria against the Empire, I think, to hear that her father and mother and all of her brothers and sisters had been hewn down and their heads paraded in the streets of the capital before cheering crowds. Even when Heraclius overthrew Phocas her mind did not change."

  "It is true," Shirin said, her voice muffled by the quilts, "she urged my husband to war upon the Empire and restore the true Emperor to the throne. She had great influence over the King of Kings."

  "True Emperor?" Thyatis was careful to seem puzzled.

  "Her son, Kavadh-Siroes," Shirin said, "is the only remaining male descendant of Emperor Maurice." Thyatis' eyes widened.

  "He has always held me first in his heart," Shirin mused, her voice sad, "but Maria bore him a son first and was very brave, coming with him to live in a foreign land like she did. She was a strong woman."

  "What happened? A fire in the palace?"

  Shirin shrugged, her face a mask. "No one knows, save Chrosoes and the dark one. The Queen was furious with Lord General Baraz for not having smashed the Eastern Empire in the first year of this war. She struck upon some stratagem with the connivance of the black priest. There was a fire and the River Palace was destroyed. Chrosoes tried to pull her from the flames but it was too late. He bears the scars to this day... my poor husband."

  Jusuf smoothed her hair back over her ear and stood up.

  "It is very late," he said. "We should all sleep."

  "Oh," Shirin said, "you must be tired from your journey. Please, there are couches in the other chamber. You will not be disturbed."

  The Princess rose, shedding quilts and pillows. She yawned, stretching her
lithe body, and bowed to Thyatis. Jusuf gathered her into his arms and held her close for a long time. Shirin put her head on his chest. Thyatis slipped out of the room into the garden. The air was soft and filled with a heady scent of blooms. The moon rode low in the western sky, but the silver light fell among the trees like dew. It was very peaceful.

  The glassed-in doors of the sitting room closed with a click and Thyatis felt Jusuf step into the garden. She turned around and said, "Your niece is very lovely, both inside and out."

  "Yes." Jusuf sighed. "We all wished her nothing but happiness."

  "Why did Sahul break his treaty with the King of Kings?"

  Jusuf shook his head. "I don't know. Shirin always wrote to him regularly, he must have divined something from her letters. Last year he began speaking seriously with the embassies of the Eastern Empire. They gave him many presents, but he spent all of the money on armor and weapons. He feared something, but he never said what. Dahvos and I were very surprised when he declared that he would go to war against his son-in-law."

  Thyatis put her hand on Jusuf's shoulder, feeling him start in surprise at the touch.

  "My friend," she whispered, "when the time comes, we'll get her out."

  Jusuf looked down at his feet. It was hard to tell in the darkness if he was blushing, but Thyatis was sure that he was.

  —|—

  Two little brown-skinned children ran past, giggling, their white tunics in disarray and splotched with grass stains. Thyatis smiled, her face shadowed by the broad-brimmed straw hat she wore to keep from burning her nose in the fierce sun. Around her a warm winter day had settled upon the gardens at the center of the Palace of Swans like a comforting blanket. She sipped from a tall, cut-crystal glass filled with lemon juice in water. It was sweet and tart at the same time, delighting her tongue. She sat in a wooden chair at the edge of the grassy sward outside of the domed building that held Shirin's private quarters. The Princesses' children were playing with Anagathios and Nikos.

  The Illyrian was hiding in the rosebushes, making growling sounds like a lion. The little girls were shrieking and jumping up and down, hiding behind their brothers, who were giggling and darting forward, daring the lion to pounce on them. Anagathios was bounding about, turning cartwheels and pretending to be afraid of the terrible beast. As Thyatis watched, a callused brown hand snaked out of the bushes and seized the unwary foot of the older of the two boys.

  The boy wailed in surprise and beat furiously with his little fists on the dreadful claw. His sisters jumped up and down, yelling in delight, as the lion slowly dragged their brother to his certain doom. The other boy latched onto his brother's head and began trying to drag him back. The Prince started yelling louder as his well-meaning brother had laid hold of his ears. Anagathios became a mighty hunter and leapt into the bushes. A terrible racket began and clods of dirt and leaves flew up. Thyatis reached behind her and touched the sheath of her sword with her fingertips. It was still there. She leaned back in the chair, content to watch the flight of sparrows above the domes of the palace.

  Something moving at the edge of her vision drew her attention. Shirin was descending a flight of steps that led down into the garden from the balconies on the second floor of the palace. The Princess moved slowly, one hand on the marble railing. She was dressed in a deeply cut pale-yellow silk gown, long and sheer—almost transparent—with a flocked bottom. Her hair had been done up into a sweeping cloud, shot with golden pins and sparkling amber threads, leaving her long neck bare. Thyatis got up, leaving the glass on the ground, but swinging the sword over her shoulder. She too had changed clothes, adopting a loose blouse of fine white Egyptian cotton and baggy forest-green Armenian pantaloons. Her feet were bare. The children continued to rumpus behind her, scaring a flight of white doves out of the fruit trees.

  Shirin had stopped at the bottom of the stairs in a patch of shade. The Princess leaned against the carved wall, her fine olive hand laid against the shoulder of a bearded archer that was shown in silhouette. Thyatis joined her, setting her back to the granite panel. It was cool in the shade. Shirin looked pale and worried.

  "What is it?" Thyatis said, her voice soft. The Princess shook her head, though her hands were trembling slightly. Thyatis caught her left hand and turned the Princess to face her. Shirin would not look up. This close, Thyatis could smell her subtle cinnamon perfume.

  "Some news of the war?"

  Shirin nodded, her hand clenching Thyatis' tightly. She covered her face with the other.

  "Bad?"

  "There was a great battle in the north." Shirin could barely speak. "The army of the King of Kings was destroyed. All of the captains of the army were slain or captured by the Romans. Even the Boar was killed, or so the messenger said."

  Thyatis flinched as the Princess collapsed into her arms, fighting tears. She gingerly put her arms around the crying woman. The Duchess had left this part out of her training.

  "The... the King of Kings has heard that Khazars rode with the Roman army against Persia. I..." The princess stopped, unable to continue. Thyatis held her close, relaxing enough herself to allow Shirin to slump against her. The Princess was solid and warm. It felt odd, holding another woman this way. Thyatis wrapped her arms around Shirin, holding her close. "I have been placed under guard. I cannot leave the palace without my husband's permission."

  Thyatis tipped Shirin's head back with a finger under her chin. Tears had ruined the artful makeup around her eyes. Thyatis smiled crookedly and wiped the worst smear away with her sleeve.

  "Then, Princess, we will have to spirit you away."

  "How can he love me yet not trust me? My children and I are prisoners! We will be hostages against my father... why did he do this?"

  Thyatis stared at the Princess, trying to decipher which he she was angry with.

  "Shirin. Shirin!" Thyatis waited until the Princess had focused on her.

  "My lady," she said in a clear, even voice, "abide by the wishes of your husband. When the time is right, my men and I will get you and your children out of the city, safe and sound. But for now, be at peace with your husband. If he suspects you, or suspects that we are here, it will be impossible."

  Shirin seemed at last to take notice of what Thyatis was saying and gave her head a little shake. Her eyes cleared and she stood away from Thyatis, wiping her eyes. Her hands lingered on Thyatis' forearms. "Yes, you're right."

  Shirin turned and looked into the garden. Nikos was rolling around on the ground with four small laughing figures swarming over him, tickling him. Laughter pealed to the heavens.

  "My children will be safe. Thank you, Thyatis."

  The Roman woman leaned hack against the cool stone, biting her lip. That was clever. Now what? She wondered. Four noisy kids, all of us, plus the Princess and probably a gang of servants in tow as well... I should have kept the circus wagon.

  —|—

  "So," Nikos said in a slow drawl, "our original mission was to whack or bag this boy Prince—Kavadh—but now, in midstream, you want to change horses." He made a wry face and stared at Thyatis. She shrugged, sitting in the cool gloom under the trees in the back of the garden. Her back was to a mossy wall of old stones. Little yellow flowers grew out of the cracks.

  "You can see what the Princess means to Jusuf. You heard the same news I did. The King of Kings made his big throw, and it failed. Now the two Emperors are moving south at all speed. Within a month they'll be here and then things will get ugly."

  Nikos nodded, but he did not let go of his point either. "Centurion—I think the heat is getting to you. Our mission is to bag the kid. Jusuf has done us a hell of a favor, getting us in here on his niece's word, but she is not the mission."

  "Nikos." Thyatis sat up a little straighter, her hands cupping her left knee. The other leg was out straight in front of her. "Jusuf is our friend. He has stood with us in dark places. We are Shirin's guests here. We owe them assistance."

  Nikos was still frowning; he did not like ch
anges like this. They just made more trouble later. Maybe a lot of trouble. Still, his commander seemed set, and there was something about the tightness of her lips that said she had already made up her mind.

  "Centurion," he said formally, "are you changing the mission?"

  Thyatis sighed and scratched the side of her nose.

  "Yes," she said softly, "I am changing the mission. Now the mission is to spirit Princess Shirin and her children and ourselves out of the palace at the soonest opportunity."

  "All right," Nikos nodded, his sense of decorum satisfied. "Good by me."

  Thyatis shook her head. Some days the Illyrian gave her a headache.

  "The first thing we have to do," she said, "is get the other Khazars into the palace. We need more hands for this, particularly those snaggle-toothed ruffians."

  —|—

  "I will go," said Jusuf, his grim expression clamped back on his long face. He, Thyatis, and Nikos were sitting in the small room that Shirin had given the Roman woman for her own. By the standards of the palace, it was small and cramped, which meant that it was big enough for an entire lochaghai of legionnaires to camp in and only featured one window. The window, however, looked out over a rooftop with no view of any kind, which was why Thyatis had gladly accepted it. Too, it was tucked away at the end of the hallway.

  The Khazar Prince refused to sit and was pacing restlessly on the tiled floor. Nikos was sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, eating a pomegranate. Thyatis glared at him and the Illyrian stopped spitting the little pits behind the headboard. Thyatis looked up at the Khazar as he passed her again. She had taken the lone chair and was sharpening and oiling one of her daggers.

  "And if you get caught?" she asked. "Everyone in the palace will know that you were plotting to get your niece out and she and the children will wind up in the pits under the palace."