The Wrath of God

by Jay Penner

  On cue, a thousand horns and conches sound on the boats, and men take to their rowing and sail stations. All my hardened warriors are in the crew, but there were also many other untested men—farmers, shopkeepers, cloth weavers, and other trades—who would now have to be trained as soldiers and sent to battle in a terrain they had never seen in their lives.

  Finally, one by one, each boat sails in front of the King, its orange-blue flags high in the air. The officers bow to the King. Prince Nimmuruk walks forward and grips the boat side and stares at the deep blue waters ahead. I take another look at the imposing cliffs and the multitude of colorful people dotting the platforms, multi-storied houses, shops, and cliff-overhangs around the harbor.

  I bow one last time.

  All I can think of is the sad smile of my Apsara.

  As the navy makes its way slowly to Kaftu, Nimmuruk summons me to the shade of a linen tent set up on the boat. “Do I have your loyalty, Teber?” he asks, without any greeting. We had previously only spoken sparingly since his appointment.

  I bow. Whatever my misgivings about the Prince are, this is not the time for argument. “I have sworn an oath to your father, Prince Nimmuruk, and that loyalty extends to you.”

  Until we win, and it is time for me to break away.

  “Trust is earned.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  With that, The Prince turns and looks at the sea. I get up and walk to the stern. Minos’ boat is close by, and the Governor waves and winks—Minos observes little protocol, and I find it oddly refreshing. I feel a presence by me, and it is the Prince.

  “What is your take on Minos?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Highness.”

  “Do you think he will follow my father’s orders?”

  “He is a little difficult to control, but he has always been loyal.”

  “The stakes have never been higher, Teber. Minos is a larger-than-life character. What makes you think he does not eye greater glory?”

  “I cannot speak to his motivations, Your Highness,” I say. These conversations make me uncomfortable. The ambitions of these men are above my station. I am a fighting man, and politics is not my strength.

  “Do you give me your sworn loyalty that you will be by my side, Teber?” The Prince asks. This time his voice is low and ominous.

  As the hazy outline of Kaftu comes to view, I wonder how soon the gods will test my loyalty.

  CHAPTER 12.

  KAFTU

  We have now been in Kaftu for many days. Minos and his advisors have told Prince Nimmuruk much about Egypt; of the Asiatics that had invaded the Northern part of the Kingdom, of the Pharaohs who ruled, of the land and her people. The group has discussed many strategies, even if often tempers flared especially between the Prince and the Governor, with me having to interfere and calm the two men.

  On this day, I walk along the magnificent corridors of Minos’ palace. While King Hannuruk’s palace was more opulent and intricate, Minos’ is larger and more elegant. Every room along the way is painted floor-to-ceiling, with innumerable decorations of fish, dolphins, bulls, dancers, fighters, birds, flowers, plants, sheep, goat, priests and priestesses, princes, high status women, courtesans, grass, mountains, ships, seagulls, eagles, deer, hawks, snakes—it is a tapestry of people, flora, and fauna of the island and beyond. The rich colors—deep blue, brilliant orange, soothing green, mesmerizing red, golden yellow, all bring every room to life. I have dressed for today’s occasion—a day of celebration and sacrifice before preparation for war.

  “Your palace has been built by the hands of god, King Minos,” I say, admiringly.

  Minos slaps my back. The Governor is painted head to toe in an orange dye. He has his hair in a bun. A flimsy linen patch secured by a silver thread covers his genitals. With his beard colored red, and a garland of lilies around his neck, Minos looks like Pidangi, a man-eating demon from the bowels of the earth.

  “Built by the brilliant engineers of the Atalanni. Not gods. This palace was built hundreds of summers ago by our forefathers, and the kings and governors have continuously built upon it.”

  “I am honored to be by your side today.”

  “Enjoy the hospitality. Once the sun sets, we talk of war. Let us go to the celebrations. The Prince has never seen a spectacle like this.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “You have seen battle. You have seen blood. You have seen the fear in men’s eyes. The Prince? He is soft. The only fear he has seen is in the eyes of the unfortunate women presented to him, and that of the goats he eats. We will make him a man today.”

  I wonder what Minos means.

  Minos and I look down on a large open quadrangle after walking through a maze of corridors. Throngs of citizens sit on each side of the quadrangle and greet us with loud cheers. A gypsum-bench throne and two stools are placed on the dais facing the multitude. Minos takes one stool, and I take the other while we wait for Prince Nimmuruk.

  Nimmuruk arrives after a wait—ceremoniously dressed in a long brown gown open at the chest. Several bands of blue-dyed ribbons are tied to his forehead. A diadem announces his position as Crown Prince. He carries a scepter in one hand and a gold-and-gem studded sword in the other. On arrival, he acknowledges us and goes up to his throne. The people roar when they see the Prince. Nimmuruk waves to the crowd. Many trumpets and drums sound and the men and women all prostrate before their royal. As is customary Minos and I kneel beside the Prince and extend our hands up to him. After the Prince touches our heads with his scepter, we settle down and wait for the drums to stop.

  The Prince has a weak and soft voice which becomes shrill when he is excited. His nervousness is visible—he has never spoken to such a large crowd before. Nimmuruk turns to Minos. “Where is the bugle of the kings?”

  “Do you need one, Your Highness?” asks Minos mischievously.

  The Prince clenches his jaws.

  “Don’t be insolent, Minos. Bring me the bugle of the kings.”

  Minos is a rascal.

  Minos claps and whispers to a servant. As people wait, Nimmuruk fidgets and bobs his head time to time acknowledging them. After what feels like an eternity, two men come forward holding a large bronze bugle—a strange contraption that looks like threaded tubes. It is as tall as a man.

  The bugle of the kings is a remarkable display of Atalanni ingenuity—no such thing exists anywhere else. The instrument can amplify the speaker’s voice and make it heard at large distances. For men of weak voice like Nimmuruk, the bugle is a way to show the men and women that the royals had the voice of god.

  When Nimmuruk opens his mouth, the people watch amazed, and some fall to their feet. I knew the strict control of information to the common citizens—to them, this was nothing but the act of god. Once the noise settles down, the Prince begins. “People of the Kaftu, Great Island of the South, it brings me joy to participate in this celebration before we embark on fulfilling the gods’ demands. The Great King of Atalanni, my father Hannuruk demands this of you: The Atalanni shall show Egypt our strength, our power, our knowledge! They shall bleed and bow to us!”

  The crowd roars in approval. Nimmuruk speaks some more until his voice shakes and his throat tires. He finally makes ominous declarations of death and misery and demands their loyalty and blood before he ends his speech. Minos is next, and his speech is lively and colorful as the man is, and the people whoop and jump at his words. Finally, after a few more speakers from Minos’ court, the audience settles down for the first spectacle.

  A giant bull enters the quadrangle. It is decorated in red, orange, and green. Bells adorn its great horns. The bull runs around, causing the bells to jingle. A lithe man dressed in a brief leopard-spotted kilt enters the arena. The man circles, jumps on, somersaults around, plays and dances by the bull in a display of breathtaking skill and beauty. I stand by the parapet to get a better glimpse of this joyous ritual. Minos comes by my side and whispers. “Now you see why the Egyptians and the
Mycenaeans think we are dancers.”

  “But this is a wonderful skill, Your Majesty.”

  Minos only smiles. “Wait for the next one.”

  Soon, twenty dancers enter the arena. The women are beautiful. Each dancer wears a fine necklace, large circular earrings, bright red lipstick, and a gorgeous multi-layered orange and brown gown. They move sensuously, swaying their hips and tapping their feet to the ground, to the sound of harps and drums.

  You grace us with food from the deep

  Your mercy keeps us alive

  O’ Great God of the Seas

  Your trident puts fear in the enemies heart

  And yet your love is delicate like a flower

  Your waves rise with grace

  We sing in joy and seek your blessings

  I enjoy more presentations of dance, acrobatics, singing, prayers, and an enthralling group performance with men, women, and monkeys. The din of drums, shouting, trumpets, and animal sounds envelop the air and rise to a crescendo as the act concludes.

  The Prince commends the performance with kind words, and Minos thanks them for putting up a grand show for the royal. People break to eat and reconvene for the next act.

  A beautiful priestess, holding a double-ended ax and wearing a feathered cap and flimsy ceremonial threads on her oiled body, rises and raises a black-and-red flag.

  The crowd falls silent.

  They quietly file out of a narrow pathway at the southern end of the quadrangle. I, along with the Prince, Minos, and their retinue, take another path and walk about an hour through a cobble stone-and-mud road with hills on either side. The sparse vegetation gives no respite from the rising heat as the sun hovers brightly over our heads. Sweat is already wiping some of Minos’ clay covering, and colors are running down his back. My officers and I walk behind the Governor, while eight slaves carry a litter with the Prince.

  Minos slows beside me. “He probably thinks he can fight the Pharaoh while sitting on a soft pillow. Feather fight.”

  I suppress a grin and look right ahead. Minos makes my duties difficult.

  We climb another gentle hill and come up to a flat area. In the center, dug expertly into the earth, is a vast, intricately laid out circular labyrinth with a granite altar in the center. I had heard of Minos’ labyrinth and fantastical stories about it but had never had the chance to see it or witness the rituals. People sit on stone-cut stepped benches, looking down into the labyrinth. The walls of the labyrinth are taller than any man, which means anyone inside would be unable to see someone else on the other sides of a wall.

  Once everyone settles, two priestesses go around the boundaries of the pit and make loud incantations. They sprinkle water on those near the edge, and then finally come to the nobles’ section to complete the rituals. I wait curiously to what happens next.

  The crowd goes silent. I look as a priestess, dressed all in red—red paint on her almost naked body, a flimsy red headgear, and a red-painted double-ended ax in her hand—finally shouts, “The first act of the Tears of the Enemy!”

  The crowd roars again, and all eyes turn to the labyrinth below. From the far end of the wall, a door opens, and five youths run out. Dressed only in loincloths, each man has nothing but a cane in his hand. Their features are Mycenaean with curly light hair. The terrified youths walk cautiously forward in the labyrinth, each staying close to the other. There is then a loud trumpet and gasps rise from the crowd. I look in great surprise as a giant man, wearing a gold mask of a bull, comes out of the door, holding a mace in his hand.

  Minos.

  The Prince stands up. He looks both excited at the spectacle unveiling in front of him and surprised that Minos himself is down in the labyrinth. Minos roars. The men have all reached one corner of the passage, with three having turned a corner and two still with their backs to the corridor that leads to the door.

  One of the men looks back.

  Minos charges.

  The youth screams in terror and pushes those ahead of him. They are quickly separated as two, two, and one in different sections of the labyrinth.

  Minos makes quick strides, turning nimbly around sharp sections. He finally catches up with the one man, who turns in fear as Minos charges him. Without a word, Minos raises his mace and smashes it on the youth’s face. Blood spurts from his nose and mouth, and he falls screaming.

  Minos does not stop.

  He raises his mace again and brings it down on the youth’s head which explodes like a ripe melon, spilling the brain and shattering the skull on the stone floor. The crowd roars and Minos raises his hands in the air in triumph.

  As much as a display this is, what is the point of murdering an unarmed man?

  Minos charges again. The other youths are stumbling along the curved walls, and Minos catches up with two. The youths turn to face the fearsome apparition in front of them—one falls to his knees, begging for mercy while the other takes an attacking stance. Minos does not hesitate—with one swing, he lands a powerful blow on the kneeling youth’s shoulder and then grabs the cane of the other. After a short tussle, Minos kicks the man in his stomach and slams the mace on his exposed chest. The tussle is over quickly as they fall dead on the floor, their limbs twisted like grotesque dolls.

  It does not take Minos much longer to find the remaining two. While they put on a brave fight, they stand no chance against the Governor’s power or his heavy mace. The two are reduced to a mass of red and pink pulp near the altar at the center, which is now drenched with blood.

  The crowd roars its approval, and I clap politely, unsure what to make of this spectacle of blatantly unbalanced strength. All my training has emphasized one thing—honorable conduct in battle and only to fight armed men who pose a danger. And yet, here, in our own province, there exists a ritual that breaks all those rules. Minos vanishes into the door and re-appears on the far side of the labyrinth. He stands on a podium and two priestesses, on either side, cleanse him of the blood, skin, flesh, and other bodily matter splattered on him.

  Minos’ utter lack of protocol is clear as he grins and squeezes the buttocks of one of the priestesses. It is a sacrilege, but no one bats an eye, and the priestess smiles shyly and walks back to her station.

  Minos then walks back to where Nimmuruk and I are sitting. I attempt to talk to him, but Minos raises his hand to silence me. The Governor has an unreadable look in his eyes.

  Minos addresses the crowd. “We have finished the first act. This is what will happen to our enemies under the Prince’s command!”

  Nimmuruk smiles at the adulation of the crowd.

  “We will render them helpless, weak, frightened, and begging for mercy. We will butcher them if they do not bend their knees!” Minos proclaims.

  The crowd cheers on.

  “The second act will message our strength. This will be a remarkable sight, and the Prince will play a momentous part in this ceremony!” says Minos.

  The crowd gasps at this revelation. Nimmuruk’s surprise shows, but he continues to smile at the people who now all look at him.

  I am alarmed but helpless without the knowledge of what Minos is planning.

  CHAPTER 13.

  THEBES - UPPER EGYPT

  Pharaoh Ahmose wakes up with anxiety. His heart knocks on his ribs with greater force than it did on most days. Today is an important day. A day when he will again consider important decisions for the future of Egypt itself. His divinity is being tested.

  After cleansing in the pool and wrapping his body with untouched white linen and anointing himself with perfume, the Pharaoh walks to the holy of the holies. It is still dark. Ra has not risen in the sky. Ahmose removes the bronze key from his belt and unlocks the ornate door made from the finest wood from Syria. He enters the dark sacred chamber. Two senior priests follow him and begin the morning duties. They first burn aromatic incense and fill the room. Then they step back and chant mystical prayers to appease Amun and other great gods of Egypt.

  Ahmose walks up to the shroud
ed statuettes of various divinities—Amun, Ma’at, Horus—and uncovers each. He bows before each shining granite idol. The chants increase in their pitch and the priests begin to shake the bells in their hand, creating an enthralling environment of smell, sound, and sight. The Pharaoh washes each idol in cool holy water scented with freshly cut, pure white Egyptian Lotus. He prays and places each idol back on its sandstone pedestal. Then he feeds each divinity spoons of food and drink—barley, beer, cake. Ahmose lies prostrate on the ground for several minutes as he prays for the good of the land and his people. Once the ritual is complete, the Pharaoh washes his hands on a running tap and wipes his hands in his hair. He steps back to allow his wife, Ahmose-Nefertari, God’s Wife of Amun, to enter the chamber. She steps to the side of the statue of Amun and amidst chants of rebirth and regeneration masturbates the phallic representation of the god.

  Then the royal wife kneels before the Pharaoh and allows him to lift her up by her shoulders. Satisfied with the procedure and that they have reconfirmed the rebirth of god and rise of the sun, the royal couple then head to the throne room to deal with the most important topic of the day.

  The ushers announce the Pharaoh’s arrival. Attendees rise and bow as the couple head towards the throne.

  Pharaoh Ahmose looks around the vast throne room. He has been here many times since he was ten summers old and ascended the throne of the Pharaoh through the blessings of Amun. His great brother and co-regent Kamose had shown him the ways of the royal court. Ahmose sits on the throne, a grand granite and limestone carved seat on a platform looking out to a hall with massive pillars. Large sphinxes guard the entrance to the throne room.