by Marc Secchia
“Mmm!”
“Temper, temper. You can thank me later. And don’t forget the mash–lashings of mash.”
Shioni tried to pull a face at him; however, it was rather spoiled by all the cloth padding her cheeks. Her half-hearted glower seemed to amuse Thunder no end. He was making all too much fun of her predicament.
But a ray of light as gentle and warming as the sun peeking over the hills had begun to steal into her heart.
What did all this mean?
The voices moved closer, still sparring, but the side she recognised as General Getu’s characteristic growl was winning the argument. In short order, she found herself surrounded by General Getu and most of the Captains of the Elite warriors of Sheba. A visibly chagrined Captain Dabir was whining non-stop behind the General, until he raised his hand with a chopping gesture and snarled, “Do us all a favour, Dabir. Shut your backchat!”
Shioni’s cheeks burned furiously, but as the General surveyed her sorry state–stained clothes, tied hands, hair hanging in filthy knots about her face, legs lashed to the saddle and cheeks bulging over the gag–his eyes appeared to develop a lively twinkle in their depths. She suspected he would have loved to tease her mercilessly, but instead, under all the eyes of his warriors, he had to fall back on his role as General. He barked, “Will someone cut the wretched slave-girl loose?”
Tariku rushed to obey.
“Shioni,” said the General, shaking his head from side to side as though he were an old donkey plodding along a road. “Shioni, Shioni… Shioni. What can I say?”
“Hmm?”
“The Princess of Sheba has ordered me to return you to Castle Hiwot, in one piece, to face her undeniable wrath.” Shioni rubbed her chafed wrists. But with her mouth still stuffed to bursting, she was unable to make a reply. Perhaps that was all for the better. “Personally, I find you difficult, disobedient, rebellious, and all too stubborn for your own good. You stole a state secret and the King’s horse, and consorted with an accused murderer. Yet, every last one of these warriors standing here today has you to thank for their lives.”
Finally! She yanked the foul cloth out of her mouth and threw it on the ground. Her legs were still tied to Thunder, but that hardly mattered. Shioni waggled her aching jaw, gingerly. “Gashe,” she said, using the term of highest respect for his station, “I’m sorry I disobeyed your orders. I would have found it easier to bear had you given them to me openly.”
General Getu leaned close. His one remaining eyebrow crawled into his scarred hairline. In a firm whisper, he said, “Don’t you try the old verbal double-edged sword on a master of the art, Shioni.” But his eye closed in a slow wink. “Not until you’re a General too, alright?”
She blurted out, “My Lord, about Talaku. Surely his actions–”
“Talaku is no longer accused,” Getu said, watching her response intently. “The village boy eloped with his girlfriend. They have returned safely and are now officially man and wife. A group of very sheepish village elders came to give us that little gem yesterday.”
Her heart swelled so much within her throat that not a word would emerge. Shioni wiped her eyes and tried to clear her throat with a cough.
“Now, to more important matters.” Turning to the Captains, he raised his arm aloft and cried, “Warriors of Sheba! I give you Shioni, our Champion!”
“SHIONI!” they roared in approval, crashing their swords and spears against their shields. “SHIONI OF SHEBA!”
“It wasn’t only me!” Shioni protested. But she was unable to make herself heard above the din. “I had help… Talaku and Thunder…”
“A truer warrior and a worthier soul Sheba shall never know,” General Getu added quietly, beneath the clamour. Then, making Shioni jump, he bellowed at full battlefield volume, “Why are we still standing around on this mountain? Let’s go home!”
As the gathering dissolved, Shioni glanced across at Captain Dabir to find him regarding her with such naked hatred, she imagined he must want to thrust an iron spear through her heart. Dabir instantly smoothed the expression off his face, however, whirled on his heel, and appeared to shudder as if fighting an urge to throw up. The Captain had a knack for revenge–as she well knew! Now she would have to watch her back doubly well…
Thunder lurched into motion. She grabbed for the reins, crying, “Easy, son of the desert!”
But the great Arabian would not be withheld, not even with her sawing at the reins with all of her strength. Flattening his ears and snorting like a furious warthog, Thunder surged forward and sank his teeth with the greatest relish right into the seat of Captain Dabir’s trousers.
Chapter 28: Hope for the King
“Mama, you’re scowling again.”
“Am I?”
“It’s that scowl which says, ‘No girl of mine’s a thief’,” said Shioni. When would Mama stop looking at her like that? Three days since their return from the mountains, and she was showing no signs of relenting. Annakiya had been kind enough–apart from the odd loaded glance that betrayed her feelings. But Mama…
Mama Nomuula’s brows gathered into dark batons over her flashing brown eyes. “You graduated to reading human thoughts too, now?”
The Princess glanced up from her scroll. “You’re in a bad mood, Mama.”
“Sorry. Lots on my mind. Wounded warriors, wounded King–”
“And the General left for Takazze without so much as a goodbye kiss…”
Shioni caught her breath at her friend’s audacity. When would Mama…?
“He did, so he did,” Mama said absently, turning over her stitching in her fingers. Her fingers froze. “Annakiya, Princess of cheek! You’s a wicked tease!”
Without a word of warning, Mama suddenly tossed her stitching onto the Princess’ writing desk, swooped upon Shioni, and gathered her into one of her rib-bending hugs. Mama collected Annakiya with her other arm, and Zi bounced across the bedding for good measure and was lifted onto the top of the pile by a careful hand.
“Ooh, you’s too good to me, you are,” murmured Mama Nomuula, crushing them to her bosom. “Rascals and cheeky monkeys you may be, but you’s my rascals and I’d not have you’s change for all the gold in West Sheba–”
“Ahem.”
Shioni stiffened as a familiar cough sounded from the doorway. Pulling aside the cotton hangings, General Getu entered the room. He seemed chock-full of energy.
“Disturbing a little family moment, am I?” said the General. His famously sly grin made its appearance.
Shuba was right on his heels, sweeping her customary black robes about her lean frame as she managed to chill the room instantly with her presence.
The Kwegu Ascetic threw back her hood as she entered. She cried, “I bear news! Good news!”
Amazement and suspicion raced across Annakiya’s features. “Not even an eagle could have returned from Ma’rib with such haste, Shuba. Explain yourself.”
“Quite simple,” said Shuba, as dismissive as she was unaware of her tone. Shioni, who was watching the Princess closely, saw her bite back a hot word. “I travelled only as far as the Danakil Desert, where I was met upon Erta’s stinking slopes by a group of my Kwegu acolytes. Understanding the King’s need, they had already decided to follow their letter in person, having copied the necessary texts–with meticulous care, naturally–onto fresh parchments. I sent a runner ahead to Takazze in an attempt to speed a decision. General Getu met us there.”
Annakiya was on the edge of her stool. “What decision?”
“A decision to mount an expedition to the ancient Kingdom of Gondar,” said the General, “and thence to Holy Lake Tana, where on the island of Tana Qirqos, we shall find the holy relic we seek–”
In their excitement, General Getu and Shuba were talking across each other. The Kwegu, who had been frowning at the General while he interrupted her story, now threw her hands in the air, hissing, “No, no, not a relic! Not the Ark of the Covenant!”
“The Ark?” the Princess
arched an eyebrow. “That’s a legend, isn’t it?”
“Old women’s chin-wagging, that one,” put in Mama, who, as everyone knew, was the undisputed queen of chin-wagging.
“Well, perhaps not entirely,” Shuba said, her voice deepening for emphasis. “The legend that the Ark of the Covenant travelled secretly from a Jewish outpost on Elephantine Island on the Nile, nearly six hundred years ago, to come to rest at a monastic settlement on Tana Qirqos island, is one of those tales that may well hold more than a grain of truth. Be that as it may, we seek healing powers, not the destructive powers of the Ark.”
Shuba raised a bony forefinger into the lamplight. Her face, severe as always, hardened to resemble a slab of carved marble. “Meles, a powerful Priest-King, sits upon the throne of Gondar. In the past he has treated our emissaries graciously. But he mistrusts Sheba’s power. We would have to win his favour in order to be granted access to the lake.”
“Secondly, Prince Bekele agreed wholeheartedly to this expedition, as well he should. But I am no chick born in yesterday’s nest. I smell danger. I wish I had a good word for your brother, my Lady,” and she bowed to Princess Annakiya at this point, “but I find the words rather stick in my craw.”
Shioni would have liked to cheer Shuba’s words. As it was, she had to settle from looking to the Princess for her cue.
Annakiya had become as still as a petrified tree. Was she even breathing? Her friend had a habit of considering her words, Shioni thought, which made her seem both reticent and older than her years. Perhaps it was because a Princess’ words weighed so much in the affairs of West Sheba? The lamplight accentuated the softness of her eyes and the high planes of her cheekbones so praised by the courtly praise-singers, and on the side where Shioni sat, she was surprised to mark a tear laying a sparkling trail down to the corner of Annakiya’s mouth.
Nevertheless, her response was unexpected. “I value you for your honesty, Shuba, and not for your diplomatic tongue.”
She looked across at Mama. “And you.” And then at Shioni. “You too–and you, Zi.” A chuckle, laden with sadness, escaped her lips. “Even you, my Lord. This is no false hope you offer… is it, Shuba?”
The Kwegu Ascetic bowed deeply. Her face, usually an emotionless mask, seemed to soften as she regarded the Princess. Shioni could see sympathy and understanding written on her harsh features. “I see no other, my Lady.”
Getu’s fingernails rasped against his beard. “You did not answer her question.”
“That is because I cannot, my Lord General.”
For the first time, Shioni saw through Shuba’s façade, and it shocked her how worn out the woman looked. She noticed the dust on Shuba’s robes, the dirt streaking her neck and arms, even the scuffed state of her shoes. Her limbs were fairly trembling with exhaustion. Shuba must have pressed herself beyond all reason or rest in her pursuit of a cure for the King. What dedication!
Respect for Shuba blossomed in her breast. “What is this cure, Shuba?” she asked.
“A medicine called ‘teshal’, said to be the most potent in the world. A drop should be all the King requires.”
Mama Nomuula folded her arms across her chest and shrugged massively. “Never heard of it. It’s not more holy water mumbo-jumbo, surely not? What’s in it?”
Shuba smiled thinly. “You’d have more chance of flying to the moon than of learning that recipe, Mama Nomuula. The papyri record that it is made from a plant or herb which grows only on Tana Qirqos, guarded by a monk who never sleeps, and is distilled to a ten-thousand-fold concentration before being steeped in–you get the picture. But my sources are impeccable. I can explain in detail. There was a Pharaoh of Egypt who was poisoned with mercury slipped into–”
“Shuba. Let the Princess speak.” Getu’s interjection was low-voiced, but still had a snap in it that froze the Kwegu scholar mid-sentence.
“The Kingdom of Gondar is how far from here–twenty days’ solid travel? Twenty-five?” said Annakiya. “It would take a well-equipped expedition… who would lead?”
“Prince Bekele asked me,” said Getu. “And you. He sent this scroll.”
“Me?”
Taken aback, Princess Annakiya broke the seal on the scroll and scanned its contents rapidly, twice. After that, she allowed it to rustle closed in her fingers and her gaze turned inward. Everyone was holding their breath. Finally, she said, “On the morrow, we have an appointment to make–our friend Tariku, to Captain of the garrison of Castle Hiwot. Dabir will return to Takazze to become my brother’s advisor. We are to take warriors, elephants, and rich gifts for the King of Gondar. You will lead the expedition, General Getu. And I am charged to secure, as Prince Bekele puts it, ‘whatever our dear Father needs’. Friends, there is hope for the King.”
She turned to give Shioni a long, level look–a look which she could not interpret, not even a little bit. It made her insides squirm. “General Getu.”
“Er… my Lady?”
The Princess kept her gaze fixed on her friend. “In order to travel, I will require the services of a certain slave-girl who has a miraculous talent for finding trouble, wrestling it into submission, and emerging victorious.”
For once, Getu seemed utterly flummoxed. “My Lady, what can I…?”
“You thumping big oaf!” cried Mama Nomuula, clapping him upon the back. “Have you forgotten already? You’s given orders, you know, them orders? About her?” She pointed at Shioni with her chin. “You take them right back!”
“I command a thousand of Sheba’s finest in battle,” General Getu said dryly, “but when it comes to ruling my own affairs… very well! Shioni, while I still have a scrap of dignity and authority left to me, I hereby recall my orders regarding your freedom. Go find trouble! Go wallow in trouble! Sheba needs more warriors of your ilk.”
Shioni felt a slow smile creeping from her heart to delight the corners of her mouth. “As you command, my Lord. My Lady.”
Chapter 29: Valley of the Giants
Freedom! At long last! Shioni sighed. Her life was about to gallop off in another direction, yet again. Yesterday she had been released from her confinement to the castle. Earlier that morning, at the fifth hour, Tariku had received his promotion to Commander of the Garrison of Castle Hiwot. And tomorrow? This slave-girl would ride to Takazze with the Princess of West Sheba to prepare for their expedition to ancient Gondar.
Right now, she had one more mystery to solve. Why had Azurelle requested a short ride west of the castle?
She raised her eyes to the hills. The valley stretched out before her, rising to meet the bluest of blue skies above. Black volcanic cliffs framed a vast, golden-green expanse of meadow, made lush by the recent rains. This was the route west of Castle Hiwot, a route that merely hinted at the fractured interior of the Simien Mountains, with its secret, scoured-out gorges, hidden waterfalls, and extraordinary animal and plant life. This was Shioni’s favourite ride, and today, for the first time, she could share it with Annakiya and Azurelle.
And a dozen warriors. Babysitters. Princess-sitters! Shioni was annoyed by their presence, even though they were keeping a respectful distance from their small party. She knew why General Getu had ‘requested’ the escort, and even agreed with him. Yet it still rankled! Who was the Princess’ bodyguard? Who had proven her capability? Who…?
“You look like you’ve swallowed a cup of sour milk,” the Fiuri piped up, helpfully. “You look like you bit into a rotten egg. You look like a hyena’s sister. You–”
“Zi! Enough!”
“Then just you wipe that look off your sad little face and–”
“Azurelle of Fiuriel!” Tittering, Zi executed a cross between a dance and a bow on Thunder’s neck. “I’d slap you if you weren’t so tiny!” But Shioni could not keep from laughing.
“That’s better,” said Azurelle. “Now, if you would kindly head over to that dead tree, someone is waiting to meet us.”
Both Shioni and Annakiya cast questioning glances at the Fiuri,
but she would not be drawn. She preened, fluttered her wings to catch the best of the luminous late afternoon sunshine, and said, “I was so happy for Tariku today. A lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?”
“I had a wonderful time surprising him,” Annakiya admitted. “General Getu planned it well–all that build-up! The look on his face! I didn’t realise he was so popular.”
“You should have seen him at the Mesheha bridge,” said Shioni. “He kept discipline while Captain Dabir–” Thunder laid his ears flat on his skull and harrumphed in disgust at the mere mention of the Captain, making them laugh, “–while the Captain was apparently stuck beneath a cart.”
“Pathetic,” snorted Annakiya.
“And Thunder was amazing.”
“I’m told that after Thunder finished with him, the Captain couldn’t walk properly for a week. He had a bruise as though he’d been kicked by an elephant. Wasn’t it worth being tied up just for that?”
“More than!” Shioni patted Thunder’s neck. “You lovely, brave, magnificent son of the desert winds!”
“Any time,” said Thunder, who arched his neck and slipped in a fancy parade-ground prance that made them laugh again. “Biting that spineless popinjay was one of the high points in my life since I crossed the Red Sea.”
They all laughed as Shioni repeated Thunder’s response.
As they approached the dead, time-hollowed baobab tree, standing as if it were a lonely sentinel in the midst of that endless reach of meadow, a shadow hulked out of its belly.
“My God!” said Annakiya, making a superstitious sign. “The giant.”
Shioni masked her irritation behind a smile and a wave. “Talaku! How are you?”
“As well as God allows,” he rumbled. They reined in the horses. “My Lady.”
“Talaku. I haven’t seen you to thank you… what you did was so amazing… and to tell you–you’ve been pardoned. I’m sorry about that…”
