The Wrath of God

by Jay Penner

  “You—“

  And at that moment Prince Nimmuruk lunges forward. The Egyptian moves quickly, having noticed the Prince from the corner of his eye, but it is too late. The blade plunges through the Egyptian’s back, and the tip re-emerges from the front beside the heart.

  “No!” I exclaim, but it is too late. The shocked Egyptian collapses and the Prince, with a maniacal expression on his face, steps back. He then raises his hands as if in victory, only to deafening silence.

  “Stand back, Your Majesty,” I say, “This man may be contaminated by the pestilences of Egypt.” That is a lie, but it makes the Prince step back.

  I drop to my knee and support the Egyptian’s head. The man is beginning to choke on his blood, and his eyes are blinking frantically without focus. A million questions rage in my head—this is no honorable conduct! Besides, this man was an Ambassador and a messenger of peace and trade.

  “Leave him! Why did you jump here?” screams the Prince. I ignore the instruction and look down on the dying man. Two more officers are now by my side, and a Prince’s aid leads the Prince back to the door.

  The Egyptian gasps and blood splatters on his lips and teeth and bubbles up from his throat. His back arches in pain and his hands reach the earth and grip the mud. I lift him to ease the pressure. He looks up to see that the people had walked to the edge and were peering down. The man turns to me, and he whispers again as his mouth scrunches in pain, “Why?”

  Such shameful conduct.

  I know that the Egyptian will die. Warm blood, now coughed up in great spurts, courses down the Egyptian’s chest and wets my thigh. I move him, so his back is to the wall. As his eyes begin to dim, I make an incantation to the gods and place the man’s limp hands on his chest.

  A hiss escapes from the Ambassador’s throat, and he closes his eyes one last time.

  CHAPTER 15.

  KAFTU

  The retinue returns to the Palace, and no member speaks a word. I had calmed the livid Prince in private, beyond the view of the flabbergasted crowd, and asked the royal guards to escort the Prince. Minos walks quietly beside me, and he has his personal guards surround him.

  Once we enter the Royal quarters away from everyone, Nimmuruk leaps from his litter and explodes.

  “You son of a mangy dog, what do you think you were doing?”

  “I was only trying to demonstrate your power to the Islanders,” says Minos, not backing down. But I know that it is a disingenuous answer. If the Prince does not calm down, this will soon turn into a constitutional nightmare.

  “You should have warned us before, Lord Minos! You were not to put the Prince at risk,” I address Minos calmly, “You—“

  “This sewer dwellers bastard is plotting against me! Do you know the penalty for regicide, Minos?” The Prince screams, red in his face. His guards now fan around the room. I rush to the center, between Minos and Nimmuruk, and kneel before the Prince.

  “Please, Your Highness, let us pause before we act rashly,” I say, and Nimmuruk stops. “Success requires all of us to act in consort. That is the King’s order and the Oracle’s expectation. This must have been a misunderstanding, and with preparation, there is no doubt you would have subdued the Egyptian.”

  “You should not have jumped there, presumptuous fool!” shouts Nimmuruk, but he is no longer advancing. Minos is quiet, uncharacteristic of the man.

  Once the room settles, the Prince speaks again. “You have to pay for this Minos. Wait till my father hears of your insolence!”

  “Your father didn’t send you here to act like a spoiled little brat, Prince Nimmuruk, but to fight an empire!”

  “How dare you speak back to me, insolent motherfucker,” Nimmuruk rushes Minos, but I come in between and grab the Prince. With one hand on the Prince’s shoulder, I extend my sword towards Minos with the other.

  “You are becoming too bold for your age, young Teber,” says Minos, eyeing me coldly.

  “My duty is to the Prince, King Minos,” I say.

  Nimmuruk spits at Minos’ direction. “You will pay for this! You will pay—“

  “He will pay nothing, Prince,” a cool, powerful voice cuts through the quibble. I turn in shock to see Khaia, the Oracle herself, standing near the door. And with her are the King’s Guard who only follow the command of the King, and in his absence, that of the Oracle, as per Atalanni law.

  I bow to the Oracle.

  “Do you know what he did, sacred Khaia?” says Nimmuruk. His voice almost whining, like a boy complaining to his mother.

  “I have been told, Prince Nimmuruk. You must administer punishment, but not now. This is not the time for quarrel. The King demands it. The gods demand it.”

  The Prince’s chest is heaving, but he quietens. He is scared of his father; of that, I am certain.

  “Sacred Khaia, the Prince—“ begins Minos.

  “Be quiet, Governor Minos, before you put yourself at risk,” she admonishes him. “What you did, while sanctioned by law and convention, was still unconscionable. You should have warned the Prince beforehand.”

  “How is it sanctioned by law, sacred Khaia? To attempt to kill me?” retorts Nimmuruk.

  “Yes, our laws allow Minos’ actions, Prince Nimmuruk. At times of war, the kingdom expects a Prince to rise to the unexpected. A Prince must face the enemy with no warning. The ritual signifies surprise, and the enemy, in this case, was not a heavily armed soldier.”

  Chastised, Nimmuruk sulks. The simmering tension in the room remains, with no one sure of what to do next.

  “You did the right thing, general Teber,” she says, and I bow. “Let us sit and speak.”

  The group then walks to the throne room of the palace. In an unspoken concession, Minos bows to the Prince and invites him to take the throne. Servants scramble to set up an official stool to the Oracle, facing the throne. Others stand.

  Khaia dismisses all guards from the room. The only ones that remain are Nimmuruk, Minos, a temple priest, the Oracle, and me.

  Once the group settled, Khaia chastises us. “You are supposed to initiate preparations for war, and yet you quarrel like children!”

  “I assure you I am no child—” starts Minos.

  “Watch what you say, Governor. This is no time for your juvenile behavior,” she says. Her stern tone and flashing eyes put an end to Minos’ flippancy.

  “You are here to prepare an empire to fight another. Our future is at stake, and the three men here are the ones who will forge our destiny. The King is a wise man. He knew he could not trust your behavior in the early days, which is why I am here to ensure that you will respect the gods’ and the King’s will. I will not interfere in your preparation for war or your operations on the ground, but I will intervene if the three of you cannot get along.”

  No one speaks a word.

  “If you cannot control your mouth and impulses, Governor Minos, then you will find your days as the King of this Island numbered,” she says, wagging her finger like a teacher at her unruly student.

  “I understand, sacred Khaia,” Minos says, as his eyes flick back and forth between the Oracle and me. The Prince sits stonily on the throne.

  “Let me make it clear to all. Once we invade Egypt, the Prince is the supreme commander of our forces. Teber will obey the orders but lead the troops on the ground. Minos will supply and defend us. Until then, I will be part of our strategy.”

  Whatever the misgivings of anyone in the room were, no one says anything.

  A priestess enters the room and chants prayers for peace. Servants bring fruit, clay pot cooled wine, a preparation of beans and cuttlefish, salted goat meat, and a bowl of grapes. The fine wine cools the tempers. After the servants clear the room, Minos stands up and turns to the Prince.

  “I apologize for not warning you, Prince Nimmuruk. I ask for your mercy,” he says, kneeling. Nimmuruk struggles for a response, still angry. The Oracle nods at the Prince. Placated, he touches the specter in his hand on Minos’ mass of unruly hair
.

  A symbol of the royal’s mercy.

  Minos returns to his seat, and Khaia smiles.

  “Now that we have all calmed down let us talk strategy. It has been many days now, general Teber, what have you all decided?” says Khaia, as she smoothens her hair.

  I clear my throat. “A small delegation will visit the Asiatic King Khamudi when the winds and weather favor us. Meanwhile, we will build and train our army here.”

  “What if they refuse to align because they suspect our intentions? Surely they wish to control all of Egypt and not play subordinate to us?”

  “We will threaten them. The news is that they are struggling. I am sure they would not want to be caught between our anger and the Pharaoh’s. They will support us or die resisting.”

  “You will threaten them when you visit their court with a small delegation?”

  “No, sacred Khaia. We will send a messenger after the visit,” I say.

  I am not that stupid.

  “Who is going on this delegation?”

  “His Highness Nimmuruk will lead the delegation, and I shall accompany him. Governor Minos will remain near the sea with a force.”

  “Governor Minos, we had an agreement that you would remain here,” said Khaia.

  “This is the best course of action, sacred Khaia,” says Minos. “It is my duty to be prepared in case of risk—”

  “As we have decided, Governor, you will not go,” says Khaia, her voice firm.

  Minos’ temper rises. I predicted this. Minos had forced us to accept his travel, haranguing and harassing us until we had given up. But with a higher authority, he has no choice.

  Minos argues, but Khaia shuts him down. He sulks like a boy and finally accepts his role to stay behind and prepare our forces for a large-scale invasion.

  Khaia returns to the topic. “When does this delegation leave?”

  “Within the next thirty days. We will send a small advance party to inform the Asiatic King and ensure that the path is without surprise,” I say.

  “Do you feel confident about this mission? Can you protect the Prince?”

  Nimmuruk finally speaks. “Do not speak of me like I am a child. I must be there to meet the King of the Asiatics, for surely he expects someone of royal rank to meet him and not a soldier or a loutish governor.”

  Minos holds his tongue and Khaia nods. “Every royal being must be protected, Prince. I say it with no disrespect.”

  “I am confident that the Prince and I will return victorious with an alliance,” I say, with false confidence. She appraises me without a word and finally nods.

  “Be careful and ensure both of your safety,” she says, finally. “We need you for the war, not lost before the first move.”

  Minos then reports on preparations and training, and summons a minister who then describes logistics, food and weapon production plans, availability of priests, healers, physicians, engineers, prostitutes, road builders, shipbuilders, menders, and other personnel to prepare or accompany the troops for the invasion.

  “Your Highness, our future rests on your shoulders,” Khaia says, addressing the Prince.

  “I will do my father proud,” Nimmuruk says, dismissively. “I do not need everyone to counsel me further. I hope it is clear to you, Minos and Teber, that I am your lord on the shores of Egypt.”

  “You are, Your Highness,” I say. Minos says nothing, still smarting from Khaia’s reprimand.

  “You are the King’s son and the heir of the Atalanni,” says Khaia. “We know you will bring us glory. It is time for us to rest.”

  With that, the group ends the evening. As the Oracle exits, I thought she flicked a finger at Minos, beckoning him.

  I banish impure thoughts from my head.

  CHAPTER 16.

  KAFTU

  They lie exhausted. Khaia thinks that Minos’ rigorous passion is surprising for a man of his age. She is secretly pleased that she aroused such vigor in him.

  “You are a mystery to me, Khaia. I do not know where the god’s will ends, and yours begins.”

  “That is not for you to know. Why did you put the Prince’s life in danger so early?”

  Minos sniggers. “He was in no danger. He could use a thrashing or two. The brat screamed like a girl. He surely tucks his penis between his thighs every night and parades in front of the mirrors.”

  “Every humiliation you heap on him weakens our hand. He must go to the Asiatics with his head held high, not with anger at his own people. You test me and the King. It will not end well for you if you do not show the Prince due respect,” Khaia says, now sitting away from Minos who is sprawled on his bed.

  “He must earn his respect. And so far, all he has done is threaten us. Where has he lifted his sword? When has he put a man to the ground?”

  “Well, you know that he has not, and but he is the King’s son. He is all we have, and the King has ordered so. If you question that, then you risk your future—do you not see it?”

  Minos rolls from his bed and stands. He stretches and wipes his genitals with a cloth. He walks to a stand, fills his wine cup, and offers another to Khaia who declines.

  “I see very well. I have not been a Governor here for all these summers by being blind. You say the gods wish to expand their dominion, and yet what we have are a weak king and his incompetent, untrained, unworthy son. Who do you think should really be King, Khaia? Who?” Minos says, thumping his chest. The mirth was gone; in its place is a burning ambition.

  He continues. “An Egyptian may fuck his sister, and yet he thrives. He has survived thousands of harvests and made an empire while we have sat, because of your Divine Council, and scratched our balls.”

  “Be careful with your words. You keep raising dangerous questions. The King may be weak, and his son a fool, but he has you and Teber. You have a duty to fulfill. You will never be king, and I hope you entertain no such thoughts,” Khaia says, and she bends down to wrap her gown around her. Minos reaches and grabs her waist, but she slaps his wrist and pushes him away.

  “You have great hopes for the royal asses.”

  “Asses they may be, but they are still the rulers. And you will obey their braying.”

  Minos wraps a kilt around his waist and paces around the large room. This room is bare of any paintings, except a large stuffed bull’s head on the wall over the bed, looking down menacingly. Khaia feels a chill.

  “When we conquer Egypt, perhaps the people of the Atalanni will crown me king. And you could be my queen,” he says, laughing, and yet there is no humor in his voice.

  “You laugh at your own peril,” she says and goes near the door. Minos’ flippancy has made it difficult to understand his commitment to the mission ahead.

  Minos turns serious. “I abide by the laws of Atalanni, dear Oracle. I will obey the will of gods. The Prince is my lord, and I will treat him as such. But the heavens surely seek a strong leader if we are to be the empire our gods’ desires.”

  “Now is not the time for such ambitions. Whatever you seek, you must first prove to us, the King, and the gods, that you can bring us victory. Otherwise, your boasts mean nothing—conquering Egypt is not like raping a maiden in your labyrinth, Governor,” says Khaia, her voice now chilly like the snow of the far North Lands.

  Minos walks close to Khaia and towers over her, his giant head looking down. His eyes black with no expression. He grips her forearm so strongly that she flinches with pain.

  He pulls her towards him. “One day, Oracle, you will stand in the assembly of the commoners and the soldiers and declare that Hannuruk is no longer fit to be king,” he says, his voice dripping threat like a poisonous snake. “And you will make me king.”

  CHAPTER 17.

  KAFTU

  Preparation for war intensifies. Under my training and Minos’ threats, a fraction of the army becomes battle-ready and prepares to embark on the arduous journey across the vast sea to Egypt to prepare for the unknown.

  Of the three messengers sent to H
utwaret, the capital of the Asiatics and home of Khamudi, their ruler, only one returns. The fate of the other two is unknown. Khamudi has indicated his interest in receiving the Atalanni delegation and that he would be honored to meet the Prince of the Atalanni. During this time, an Egyptian messenger had arrived, looking for the Ambassador of Egypt and with news from the Pharaoh. Minos had him imprisoned and executed over my objections. I never found out the purpose of the Egyptian’s visit.

  On the thirty-seventh day after the celebration of the end of heat of the sun, a delegation of twenty officials, including Prince Nimmuruk and me, supported by three hundred Atalanni forces, finally prepares to leave Kaftu. People celebrate the occasion with festivities that last for two days, and His Majesty King Hannuruk and Queen Idukhipa Apsara grace the occasion. A magnificent procession of the royals, nobles, soldiers, commoners, cattle, and sheep originates from the palace and makes its way towards the northern harbor where the boats are ready and waiting.

  I wait for the King to make his farewell speech.

  King Hannuruk looks tired, whether due to the excessive drinking in the past two days or due to the stress of launching a war and what that might do to him. Since my earliest memories, I had never seen the King in combat or in conflict. His speech slurs and his behavior to all those around is less than royal.

  “Tell Khamudi that his survival depends on our support,” he says, addressing his senior council.

  “Tell him that should he resist our offer, we will begin by ending his Kingdom even before the Egyptians. Tell him I will lay with all his wives and daughters!”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I say, controlling my urge to glance at The Queen who sits beside him.

  Her eyes are on me.

  I sense her sadness.

  I also know that I will risk everything if I try another tryst with her under watchful eyes.

  “You have a great responsibility, and I expect nothing less than complete victory. Let this empire not die with you, Nimmuruk,” the King says, addressing his son who stands in gold-wool regalia before his father. Nimmuruk has gained some of my respect recently. He is unpredictable. His moods swing wildly as the horses of the Asiatics. I had to keep his cruelty in check during training, but he put effort into improving his fighting skills and in his assessment of the task ahead. I must see how he will fare in the theater of deceitful diplomacy and war.