by Jay Penner
I am still unsure about why I am here, for I am of the lowest rank in this room. I am told that the Oracle is here to bring the message of the gods.
The Supreme Council is now in session. And after customary pleasantries, respects, and prayers for blessings, the King rises to address the audience. “Three days ago, the earth shook, and we saw fire rise from the ground. We had no warning of the gods’ displeasure, and the Oracle herself,” he says, looking accusatorially at Khaia, “did not know why for the gods kept their intentions hidden even from our Divine Council. The Oracle promised us an answer, and we are here today to find out what the gods tell us.”
Khaia stands and bows to the audience who in turn bow to her. She does not respond to the King’s accusatory statement. “I have spent the last two days looking to the skies, earth, and the seas, for the messages do not come in torrents but in small nudges and hints. The gods wish for us to understand them, and they look at us not as children who must be told what they think.”
“So, you have been receiving messages then?” asks Prince Nimmuruk, and glances at his father for his approval. The King makes no acknowledgment but waits for Khaia’s response.
“Yes, I have. Your Majesty,” she says.
There is a murmur from the Council. It is rare for the Oracle to say that she received messages directly from the gods, for it is told that the gods sent their signs through various manifestations of earth, air, water, and fire.
“And what do they say?” The King asks, leaning back and smoothing his beard, usually a sign of nervousness.
Khaia straightens and turns to look at everyone in the room.
She looks down at her feet and sighs loudly.
Then she addresses the King. “They say we have grown too lazy. And that we have diminished their stature in the eyes of the world.”
There is a hush in the room.
I suck my breath in. Her words, spoken in the quiet tone of authority, reverberate in the throne room.
“What do you mean, sacred Khaia?” asks Hannuruk. He leans forward and stares.
Khaia continues as all eyes are upon her. “Our gods are getting impatient with our restraint,” she says, looking at each member slowly and deliberately. We are immobile. “They say we have looked inward for too long, and that while other empires grow, our reticence to conquer the world beyond Kaftu and other little islands is a betrayal to our superiority.”
Her tone mocks the ‘little islands.’
The Council holds its breath, unsure how to react or what to make of the Oracle’s vague statements. Khaia takes a deep breath and slowly rubs her hands together. The silver bangles on her wrists make gentle tinkling sounds that carry in the quiet room.
“What are you implying, sacred Khaia?” The voice, without its usual mirth, is King Minos’.
“The gods seek expansion of their dominion; The King’s sacrifices no longer satiate their desires,” Khaia says, looking at Minos. There are murmurs all around.
“Sacred Khaia,” The King begins, his voice trembling, “Every message in the past has been about enriching the lives of the citizens, building our defenses, expanding our trade, ruling the seas, advancing our superior knowledge and our glorious art. The gods have never demanded an expanded dominion!”
“Are you suggesting I am no longer capable of interpreting their messages?” she retorts sharply.
The power this woman exudes!
“That is not what my father meant,” The Prince intervenes. “He is merely suggesting that these new messages are a monumental departure from the past.”
Hannuruk shoots a glance of irritation at his son but does not object. I am surprised that the Prince is capable of saying something sensible.
Khaia maintains silence for an entire minute as she looks icily at us, one by one, locking into our eyes.
There is much fidgeting and discomfort.
She lets it be until we submit to her completely.
Masterful.
The Oracle finally speaks. “Very well, Your Majesty. As I said before, we do not read god’s minds, and we do not question their motive. They are gods, and we are mortals. We do their bidding. The Trikaia express their displeasure at the state of affairs. That is why the earth shook, fire erupted, and the birds that chirped happily flew in terror. Our gods see us as a lazy empire that enjoys their blessings yet incurs no pain to secure the future of our peoples or expand their glory.”
“What do they mean by expanding their dominion, sacred Khaia, do we not already control all the islands around us, including Kaftu, which is as great as a continent? Are we not the masters of the sea and lords of the all trade channels in the waters around us?” asks Minos.
Khaia smiles wryly. She straightens her back and raises her arm and opens her palm. “What we control is a spec in this vast Earth, King Minos. We have been battling the Mycenaeans invading us from the North. They were once in awe and admiration of us, learning our arts and enriching their understanding of our script, and yet they now attack us. The Mitanni gave us their princess but pay no heed to our power or pay annual tributes. The Egyptians see us as dancers, bull acrobats, and painters. The Assyrians pretend we do not exist. What gods would not be insulted by that?”
“Is that your interpretation or the gods’?” asks Hannuruk, his voice now cold as the bronze left out in the winter evening. I guess that the King’s reticence is because he has grown old while enjoying the pleasures of his life. He has no appetite for a large conflict or other violent excursions.
“The gods speak through me,” Khaia says testily, “and they ask the great King rise to their desires.”
“It appears the gods are asking me to conquer one of the great kingdoms that surround us,” Hannuruk says, finally, his expression that of disbelief, for there was never a moment in their history that it has come to this.
There are many murmurs. Okoninos the builder, famed throughout the land for his magnificent constructions, grumbles loud enough to be heard. “We do not need a war when we live in prosperity and peace.” And his colleague, Rhaistos, a well-regarded trader, concurs.
Khaia stares at them.
The bright minds in the Council are no doubt guessing, wondering, and coming to terms with what they are hearing.
The King speaks again. “As if all our mastery of the sea, our magnificent temples, our sacrifices, our rule of the hundred islands, our powerful trade, our elegant towns are not enough…” his voice trails.
Finally, King Minos speaks, “Is that the message, sacred Khaia?”
“It is,” she says, “And not any Kingdom.”
I sit befuddled.
Why am I here?
What is the Oracle telling us?
What do the gods want from us?
CHAPTER 6.
KALLISTU
“…And not any Kingdom,” Khaia says, and a chill courses through my bones. The Prince leans forward and clasps his hands, and the King watches without a word.
“What do they— “begins Minos, and Khaia cuts him off.
“Egypt,” she says.
After a breathless moment, King Minos exclaims, “By the balls of mighty bulls!”
King Hannuruk, who seems dumbstruck, asks again, “Egypt? The gods ask that we conquer Egypt?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, they seek dominion over Egypt.”
There are several exclamations in the room, and a buzz fills the air. Auscetas, an influential trader, slaps his head and sighs loudly. An usher rings a bell to silence the group. The King speaks again, “How do you know it is Egypt?”
Khaia turns and signals one of the priestesses, and she wordlessly walks out of the room with all eyes on her. After several suspenseful minutes, the great doors open, and she re-enters.
On the priestess’ shoulder is a magnificent falcon. The bird sits proudly. Its dark and white patterned wings flex gently, and its inquisitive eyes scan the room. When the priestess nears the Oracle, the falcon rises to its feet, its talons digging into the Priest
ess’ flesh, and it spreads its glorious wings. The impressive flutter elicits audible gasps from the audience.
Khaia points to the falcon and turns to the royal podium. “The signs, Your Majesty. I dreamt of a falcon swooping over the seas and standing atop our bronze bulls. And I dreamt of jackals surrounding our terrified peoples and advancing on them menacingly. I dreamt of a shining black cobra encircling the statue of the Great God of the Seas and unfurl its hood on his head.”
She pauses for effect. Every ear hangs on to her every word. Khaia continues. “The falcon is the symbol of Horus, the Jackal that of Anubis, and the Cobra that of Wadjet. All Egyptian gods. And these were just the first of my dreams and messages, and they became increasingly violent in how they depicted control over us. The falcons carried away the bulls, the jackals ripped our people’s bellies, and the cobra stung our gods and had them bleed,” Khaia says. Most of us bow our heads and pray urgently in fear of these words.
Khaia continues, “And as if to remind me again, this falcon landed on my balcony this evening. It is unmistakably Egyptian.”
Hannuruk’s voice rises, “But sacred Khaia, just three summers ago you said the trembles meant we should prepare for life outside our islands! We have toiled to build a hidden enclave in the miserable desert as the seed to our future, and now you say the gods meant something else!”
I know what the King is referring to. Three summers ago, there were tremors, not as bad as it was this time, but bad enough for the King to confer with the Oracle. What he had been told then was that the tremors were a warning to the Atalanni that they should spread beyond the Islands and make space for the citizens on the desolate Syrian lands. The Divine Council had resisted all suggestions that we find a place in Kaftu and instead insisted on a space in the vast lands of Asia. Significant plans were made on this basis; a spectacular hollow dome in a large mountain near the Levant was chosen to build a hidden conclave that could hold the first citizens of Atalanni outside the capital and Kaftu. The plan was to seed this enclave with riches, weapons, tomes from our secret library, and use that as a staging ground to begin a slow outward expansion with a focus on defense and limited offense. The Oracle had warned that deliberate expansions would attract the attention of the surrounding empires and jeopardize the plans. The King had executed on this mission but had shed significant blood through his cruelty. And now, suddenly, the whole story has changed to demand an invasion.
Khaia sighs deeply as if she is exasperated by the King’s hesitation. “They change their minds as they wish, Your Majesty, and they seek no permission from us mortals. They are appreciative of what you have done, and that is why the gods have spared our houses and palaces this time and shook their own abode! Their kindness is evident in their actions and omens.”
Many in the audience nod. I reflect on what Khaia said; it is true, most of the damage is to the central temple complex and the causeway. The rest of the island has been almost untouched. It is as if the gods had split their own skin and shed blood, and not their children’s. Hannuruk adjusts the bull crown on his head and tugs on his beard.
“But why Egypt?” This time it is Prime Minister Rishwa asking a question that burns in my mind as well.
“There is no greater empire than Egypt and no land of greater prestige. The gods seek nothing less,” Khaia says, “The Mitanni are a new and rising power, but it is Egypt that the gods seek.”
I look at Queen Apsara, who sits stoically. She says nothing at the mention of her homeland.
“The only thing the Mitanni have worth having is sitting beside me,” says Hannuruk, “And that they gave up eagerly. I have no doubt there are far greater riches in Egypt. Including those that can bear me an heir and not as barren as the Syrian deserts.”
The insult is apparent to all, and my eyes, like every other member’s, turn to the Queen whose face reddens. My chest squeezes, imagining her pain. She looks straight ahead and makes no acknowledgment of these sharp words.
To ram my fist through the King’s teeth would be joyful!
Minos opens his mouth to say something but checks himself. I have no doubt that the Governor’s salacious mind is on the Queen, and I have seen Minos glance up at her many times. But to comment on matters of Royal marriage may be a step too far even for a flagrant rule-breaker like Minos.
The Ambassador of Nations, Umarru, decides to cut the discomfort of the room. “We have had cordial relations with the Egyptians—”
“To the depths of deep seas with cordial relations. The gods have asked, and we shall deliver!” Minos shouts, his eyes wide open in a strange excitement. It is apparent that Minos has an erection and makes no attempt to hide it.
King Hannuruk himself, stupefied but coming to his senses, rises and asks the audience to be quiet. He puffs up his chest and addresses the council. “The gods are right. They are merciful. They send a clear message. Here we are, with our mighty navy hidden in our harbors, our spectacular weapons tried and but never put to the test, our ambitions suppressed by our own laws and the Divine Council’s advice. The gods will have no more of it!”
Khaia does not react to The King’s pointed reference to the Council. She clasps her hands and looks ahead.
“We will be a true empire!” shouts Prince Nimmuruk, waving his sword in the air, and now working himself up along with the others.
“What else did the gods say, sacred Khaia?” The King asks. I watch as the leaders begin to beat the drums of war. The general in front of me mutters, “Fighting Egypt is nothing like beating the backward Mycenaeans who venture into our seas.”
Khaia now has everyone’s undivided attention. I fleetingly wonder if such opportunities allowed The Oracle to make up whatever she wanted, and I then chastise myself for such sacrilegious thoughts.
“The gods ask that we demonstrate the superiority of our people, our arms, our knowledge, and take the Pharaoh and his people as slaves,” Khaia says.
Minos waves his hand in the air, getting everyone’s attention. “Egypt is weak. They have not controlled their northern borders and harbors for many summers now, and they still fight the Asiatics. We will subdue them like overpowering a reluctant maiden,” he says, his voice a higher pitch with excitement.
“No, Governor Minos. Just because the deer sleep does not mean the lioness stops hunting. Egypt is rising again,” says Rishwa. Behind that slender frame is a wise voice that everyone listens to. “The Asiatics no longer maintain a firm grip on their lands and are losing against the new dynasty. Pharaoh Sekhenenre has weakened them, Kamose has pillaged them, and the new Pharaoh Ahmose causes them great pain. Our messengers indicate that it will not be too late before the Egyptians rout their invaders and destroy their homes.”
“So you say, Prime Minister. They marry their sisters; one of their gods sleeps with his parent and sibling. The people live in squalor and slums with open sewers, as the royals live in great palaces. Such a kingdom will vanish to nothingness,” says Minos.
“That may be so, King Minos. But let us not forget that they have done so for thousands of harvests, and their gods have not abandoned them. That is their way. There is no dispute that they are a great empire too and know much about the world—perhaps not as much as we do, and we look down upon them at our peril.”
Minos scoffs and adjusts his loincloth. He looks around to make his irritation be known to all.
Khaia smoothens the creases of her garment and takes a sip of water. She clears her throat and continues. “But the gods are merciful. They know that Egypt is no minnow, and the great land’s travails in the recent past against the Asiatics must not be taken as a sign that the Pharaoh is weak. We must prepare.”
“You speak like a general, sacred Khaia,” Minos says, grinning. He adjusts the gold necklace and rubs his hirsute chest.
Khaia smiles. “You forget, King Minos, that the Divine Council opines on matters of peace and war.”
“Well, we have heard from the Oracle and our garrulous Governor,” Hannuruk s
ays, slapping Minos’ shoulder, “But we must hear from our warriors.” The King’s eyes wander to my section. I wait for the King to call on the general who now sits stiffly. But Hannuruk’s eyes lock directly into mine.
Unsure and nervous, I scramble to my feet.
General Unamur, in front of me, confused as well, stands. But Hannuruk waves his hand dismissively at him, signing for him to sit down. I remain standing. My face feels warm like a clay tablet held near a gentle fire. All eyes, the most important eyes in the Atalanni empire, are upon me.
“Rishwa tells us you have defeated the Mycenaeans the seventh time,” he says.
I stand straight and bow to the King, still unsure of the protocol. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“They say you are a formidable commander.”
“I am honored, Your Majesty.”
“Have you fought them on land, Teber?”
“Only once, your Majesty, when they landed on the Northern shores of Kaftu.”
“What happened then?”
“We routed them. We killed one hundred and eighty and took fifty as slaves.”
“How many did we lose?”
“Two hundred, Your Majesty,” I say, uneasily.
“Why?”
“We had little experience on the land, Your Majesty. The planners gave us bold ideas, but the ground held surprises.”
General Unamur rises to his feet. “If I may add Your Majesty— “
“Did I ask you to speak?” Hannuruk asks.
“No, Your Majesty— “
“When was the last time you raised a sword and stabbed an enemy?”
“Your Majesty I— “
“When did you last beat anyone?”
“My role, your Majesty— “
Hannuruk spits at the man and begins to shout. “We have invited the scorn of our gods because feckless men like you have no strength in your bellies to go out and fight!”
I know that the General is blameless, for he has only obeyed the rules and laws of the Atalanni which are aimed at defense rather than offense. But no one could raise a voice against the King except the Oracle and Governor Minos.
