Kallista

by David Bell

  “What news?” cried Merida, slamming his beaker down on the table.

  “Good, to be sure,” said Koreta. “My information is that a new ship, of a kind not seen there before, and reportedly very fast, made port in Alefisia. She took on stores there and water from a river nearby. The water jars were carried in a boat that had two young men in it, one whose skin was black, and the other long-haired and carrying a set of pipes on his belt.”

  “Alefisia,” said Merida, looking dubious, “there’s nothing much there.”

  “The captain enquired about the course for Sikelia and was told it was three days’ sail.” Merida’s eyes lit up. “Now, I know Sikelia, all right. Never been there, but I know about it.

  “There’s obsidian on some island near it and there’s olives and wine, not all that good, but mainly there’s copper brought in from Shardana and bronze from some place not far off. I did some trade with a post on Sikelia. It’s good news they’re heading there.”

  “I didn’t know Sharesh had pipes with him,” said Dareka.

  “Oh, he is a singer of songs, that young man,” said Koreta, softly. “Is that all the news?” said Merida.

  “For the moment, yes, but when the next ship docks from Keftiu, there may be more and if so, I will tell you,” said Koreta. He paused, then added, “there is other news that should concern you.”

  “Is it about the olive trees at Mitoia?” said Merida. “I was told that many had lost their leaves because an evil-smelling wind blew through the groves. It made the people cough as well, my steward said.”

  “No, although that news is serious enough for the people of Mitoia. The trees will survive but there will be few fruit this year. The other news is that the Labarna’s army is on the march again and this time towards Halaba. If he gets close, you may want to look to your interests in Gubal.”

  Expressions chased each other across Merida’s face: concern, reflection, realisation, cunning. Koreta watched them all and understood all.

  “It might bring, how can I put it?” began Merida.

  “Opportunities?” suggested Koreta. “You must be thinking that armies always need supplies. Ah, here is my steward to insist on certain things I must now do. Master Dareka, I should like a little of your time, on another occasion, soon, to discuss the number and movement of ships into and out of Kallista. Be good enough to speak with Apigoron here to arrange a day when we may do that, would you?”

  “How does he get to know all these things?” said Merida as he and Dareka walked up the street towards Anchor House. “I see more ships come in than he does and I talk to all the captains, but I didn’t know about the Davina and nor did you.”

  “That steward of his and a scribe meet all the captains, too. I can understand about the steward being there to see what cargo comes in for the Residence and to keep an eye open for things that might slip through without paying the taxes, but why a scribe?”

  Merida did not answer. He was thinking that if the Davina were bound for Shardana, what course would she set after that? Shardana was not the obvious place to make for if a ship was heading for the trading post near the Great River, where that slave from the Tin Islands had been found. When they reached Anchor House and he was about to go in, he asked Dareka why the Governor had asked about shipping.

  “You can never tell what the Governor has in mind,” said Dareka. “But don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  “Read me that part again where it says the Labarna’s army is marching towards Halaba. Are you sure the word is ‘army’ and not patrols?”

  The scribe felt ruffled that anyone should question his reading, but dared not show his feelings. He looked again at the tablet that was one of many that had come on the last ship in the secret box to be opened only under the eye of the Governor. He had to admit the word was a little uncertain, not one with which he, a learned man, by no means a military one, was familiar. It was definitely about soldiers but perhaps not as many as an army.

  “Well, my Lord, it is a word which can mean men with horses.”

  “I see. Mounted patrols, I shouldn’t wonder. Perhaps it is wiser to await the next set of despatches for confirmation. Thank you. That is all.”

  When the scribe had gone, Koreta turned his gaze back towards the harbour. He had decided not to mention what the Taphian captain who brought the news of the Davina had also said about the great noise in the night that all who heard it agreed must be some outburst of terrible rage by a god. Koreta had no time for such fancies and preferred not to pass on reports of happenings for which there was no realistic explanation. There was a white speck on the horizon, a sail surely, and from its bearing that of a ship inbound from Keftiu. What more might he soon be told of the seekers of the Tin Islands?

  “I had quite forgotten what a fine view of the Palace one has from here.”

  “Well, it is some time since your last visit to the Sanctuary,” said Akusha.

  “One gets so caught up in one’s duties and obligations as the wife of the Commander. Endless ceremonies, foreign delegations to entertain, banquets to attend, appearances to make, not to mention the whole household to supervise: I am sure you understand, given your own background.”

  “I understand very well the many demands made on your time and yet, we must never neglect our service to the Lady Mother.”

  “How very true, Lady Akusha. You speak with authority, and experience, having yourself left that service and returned to it. I find that degree of dedication almost humbling. But let me come to the reason for my requesting to see you, a pleasure I must say I always find hard to deny myself.”

  “I am flattered not to be treated by you differently in this respect.”

  Pasipha looked beyond the tiered white walls and roofs of the Palace, past the gardens and groves of trees in bloom, the walks and staircases, parapets and courtyards, over all towards the distant blue spread of the sea.

  “So many ships, coming and going, sailing to distant lands, bringing goods and people from many places; so many I can hardly recall their names. What do you know of Shardana?”

  “Only that it is said to be a land somewhere in the direction of the setting sun.”

  “And the land for which Captain Potyr’s ship was last reported to be heading. There, I knew I was right to come here with the news myself. I have this from the captain of a ship, rather charmingly called the Sea Horse, who is himself from that very land. He told a fascinating story of loud noises in the night and people driven from their homes and a burning mountain raining down black dust so that he could not unload his cargo where he intended, which is why he brought it all the way to Keftiu.”

  “What of Captain Potyr’s ship?”

  “Of course, forgive me. A fine ship, he said, and a fine crew of thirty men, some being archers. He spoke of a tall bearded lord, we may surmise who that must be, may we not, and of a tall young man with long hair whom he heard playing sweetly on his pipes after dark. Now who might that be, do you think?”

  “Sharesh,” breathed Akusha. And Kanesh? She felt close to tears. They had been seen. They were safe; at least, they were not too long ago.

  “Your son; I know how you must feel having this news of him. I became so very fond of him myself. The captain said the young man and the bearded lord spoke to each other in a way that made him think they must be of the same family, not knowing, of course, that the lord had once been the boy’s guardian.”

  “Where did the two ships meet?”

  “Near the island of some bronzesmiths but either he did not say its name, or I have forgotten it. They were to sail next day for Shardana.”

  “I must thank you for this. I have a feeling that it is the last we shall hear of them for some time. Before you leave I must find some gift for the captain of the Sea Horse that perhaps you would see is given to him?”

  “You may be sure I shall. There is something else we should talk about.”

  “Something sufficiently confidential that we should find a place
where we shall not be overheard?”

  “Lady Akusha, you are so perceptive.”

  “From here you have a direct view to the Ruler’s Sanctuary itself. On a clear day, when the light is favourable, you can see the shapes of the sacred horns on the roof. I understand that in times past the Consort used to have the instruments placed there to make the measurements of the guardian yellow star when it stands with the moon.”

  “Who now will make the measurements?” asked Pasipha.

  “The same Servants of the Lady Mother who travel from the sanctuary by the sea near where the ships set sail for the Black Land. While at their sanctuary their duty is to watch the setting of the sun beyond the mountain Amodia and send word when it goes down exactly behind the peak because those two times are when the day and night are equal in spring and in autumn. Those years when the moon also lies behind the peak are most holy years. It was in such a year that I first came to Keftiu.”

  “In which fortunate year I too was newly in the service of the Mother and first met you. You see, we are linked in several ways, you and I, Lady Akusha, in several ways.”

  “This is a quiet place. The walls are thick and no one will disturb us. You may speak freely.”

  “I was called to the Presence yesterday.”

  Akusha affected an expression of polite enquiry but remained silent. “Abruptly, and in advance of a time already arranged.”

  “That is unusual. What could the reason have been, I wonder.”

  When Pasipha had arrived, the High Priestess was standing between two of the red columns that supported the roof of the Ruler’s Sanctuary, and looking in the direction of the sacred mountain Jaduktas. Without turning round she spoke in a low voice:

  “My second moon time is upon me and again there is no show of blood. You have nothing to say?”

  “I was thinking, my lady. There are many possible reasons for this.”

  “There is only one reason. When the rite was performed the Lady Mother was within me and she willed this. Your deception…” she paused and slowly turned to look directly at Pasipha. Even as she felt stabs of alarm at what punishment the High Priestess might have in mind for her, Pasipha noticed that she was no longer wearing the sacral knot at her waist. So it was true! The voice resumed.

  “… your deception has proved to be advantageous. Again you are silent.”

  “I am overwhelmed by your forbearance and also struggling to understand how my, my deception, as you rightly call it, could be of any…”

  Pasipha stopped speaking, amazed at the serene, even contented expression that spread over the other woman’s face.

  “Do you not see? The succession is assured. Continuity is no longer in doubt. In the Old Times the consort served the Lady Mother and the people for one year and then by way of sacrifice became renewed at springtime in the body of his successor. Life and worship could go on, the crops grow and the animals give birth in their season and the people were content. A time came when the Lady Mother decreed the need for less frequent change and, it must be said, to allay the discontent that sometimes occurred at such times of change. The consecration of my Consort seemed to have achieved that end.”

  The High Priestess fell silent and her expression changed to one of sadness and doubt. She looked resignedly at Pasipha.

  “But it did not last. The Lady Mother has her ways that are not always for us to understand. My Consort was stricken, his strength as a man taken from him and his place as Consort at my side in the sight of the people rendered inconceivable without his wearing of the mask. Then even that too came to an end. For me it was a time almost of despair.”

  “To dispel that was my intention, my lady,” said Pasipha.

  “You have done so,” said the High Priestess, smiling again. She went on, almost briskly. “We have a Consort for all the people to see. He may not be the one who was first chosen but he performs all his functions very adequately when required, I can assure you, and at other times he remains secluded, distracted by the poppy and other diversions. In due course, when the ship returns, he will be succeeded by that chosen one, and in such a way that almost everyone will be none the wiser.”

  “So, everything will be as we, and the Lady Mother, of course, originally intended, except for the other matter.”

  “I have thought of that. It is simple. A girl child born to the Palace would in time be candidate for the sacred honour bestowed upon myself; a boy child as successor consort.”

  “Put like that, it is, as my lady says, simple indeed.”

  “I feel a little tired,” said the High Priestess, “and I must rest before I descend to supervise certain ceremonies at which the Consort will be present when the moon is at its height. Before you leave, I have two errands for you to perform.”

  “Whatever is in my power, my lady, it will be my honour and pleasure to do.”

  “First, you will make a discreet visit to the priestess at the Temple of Eileitheiya and apprise her that her services will be needed in due course.”

  “Certainly; preparations must be made in good time.”

  “Secondly, Lord Sekara has sent word that a ship is in port whose captain has had conversation with the ship carrying the Lord Kanesh and Lady Akusha’s son. Her favour will be of use to us so it would be a courtesy to pass on what news there is of her son. I leave the words to you. You will, of course, give no hint of our other conversation this evening.”

  “Few things give me greater pleasure than being the bearer of good news, my lady.”

  “Lady Akusha, I should tell you that the High Priestess was also aware of the progress of your son’s ship and asked me especially to see that you were told,” said Pasipha.

  “Thank you. I am indebted to her for her concern. Am I mistaken, or is there more to tell me about your meeting with the Presence?”

  “I know that what I am about to say will remain between ourselves. I feel sure that before his departure Lord Kanesh told you of my little stratagem for easing the problem confronting the High Priestess when the ship carried off the one destined for great things.”

  “I think it was as much your problem as that of the High Priestess,” said Akusha, smiling sweetly.

  “Again, so perceptive, my lady. When all has been said and done, one must look to one’s own concerns, do you not agree? It seems that my stratagem has proved very effective in making provision for what we may call affairs of state, to say nothing of its affording some personal satisfaction and fulfilment. Were you to meet with the High Priestess again, I am sure you would immediately be aware of her very different demeanour. The outcome is to the benefit of us all.”

  “How very interesting: let us hope that the Lady Mother sees it that way. I have enjoyed our meeting. Must you go so soon?’

  The porters lifted the chair and were about to move away when Pasipha told them to wait, pulled back the shading curtain and spoke to Akusha.

  “My lady, you know so much about the service of the Lady Mother and her priestesses. I have occasion to visit the priestess at the Temple of Eileitheiya. Not having had that pleasure before, I should be glad of your advice on protocol.”

  There was no doubt about it: silver would look better between two bands of blue. Akusha tightened the strap of the loom round her back and picked up the blue shuttle. The regular rhythm of the shuttle’s movements as she passed it this way and that through the threads always calmed her mind and helped her to think. There was so much to think about. Sharesh, the ship, Kanesh, where were they now: adrift on the Endless Ocean, wrecked on some desert shore? Or like the shuttle’s undulating passage across the loom, were they riding gentle waves, pressed on by a fair wind? Without stopping the movement of her hands, she bowed her head forwards in the sign of submission to the Lady Mother’s will and felt the clarity and peace of mind that come with acceptance and trust.

  Her thoughts turned to her conversation with Pasipha. Her feelings were mixed. On the one hand, a deception had been practised that had the smell o
f sacrilege about it and, once that path had been taken the trust of the people, on which all, the Palace and its rule, the service of the Lady Mother, the way things ought to be, would in time crumble and Keftiu would lose its power. On the other hand, her son had kept his freedom and her own life had taught her how precious a thing that was. When the ship came back with its prized cargo and the way to the Tin Islands proved, and Kanesh were here again, and Sharesh had shown to everyone what he could do and where his place should be, on the sea, then all would be well, would it not? Perhaps, but it would not be the same. That final suggestive sally from Pasipha was proof of that. There would be a call from the palace for her to wait on the Presence, she was sure of that. Until then, she would bide her time and seek the wisdom of the priestess of Jaduktas who had given her sanctuary and revived her will to go on living all those years ago. Yes, blue against silver, sunlight sparkling on the wave tops: that had to be the way.

  “This is the way it will be,” said the priestess of Jaduktas.

  They had walked very slowly up the long ramp towards the terraces, the priestess leaning heavily on her stick of juniper wood carved with intertwined snakes while Akusha held her other fragile arm. They stopped at the long stone altar that lay between deep fissures in the rock so that the priestess could rest and catch her breath. Away from the summit of the sacred mountain the ground fell sharply in all directions: on one side was the road leading down to Setuja and its summer palace and in the opposite direction, beyond the valleys and climbing ridges, rose the majestic heights of mountains tipped white with snow. The roofs of the Palace were catching the golden light of the late afternoon sun. The air was still and warm. There was a sound of small birds chirping among the rocks and high overhead great dark hawks soared and drifted in the clear sky, searching, sighting, stooping. Peace and menace, thought Akusha, are never far apart.