The Causality of Time

by Jonnathan Strawthorne

  So it was love’s first taste of sensuality and desire that took me beyond that day to perhaps a future of belying calm and peace. She embraced me with acceptance and wholehearted love that I could clearly see in each dawn of our ensuing days.

  We lay in the dark, sweating from the heat of the night. Love had come in a wave of tumultuous passion that was unhinged and bursting out from the banks of time and desire. Undulations from tender caresses cascaded over our bodies while we dove into the depths of our minds’ longing and our bodies’ needs.

  Sighing with pleasure’s delight, we two lovers lay embraced within our world of safety, which held back the reality of the night’s long shadows. The taste of gentle lovemaking shook me to my core. I had not experienced such raw need—such natural desire. It was a frightening consequence of my pent-up demand for expression within an expressionless society of brutality, domination, and greed. It was a beauty of such unrelated satisfaction that it overwhelmed us with tears of happiness, yet we too had tears of pain from, perhaps, our knowing the final outcome.

  I stared at the fibers of the tent’s ceiling, contemplating this new experience. Why? I asked. Why is this so profound—so much a part of me? What travel of consciousness could possess this depth of the mind and heart? Why do the gods play with me, a mortal man? Why add the dimension of the meaningful desire called love to the permanent biological makeup for procreation while letting the gods of war wait patiently in the shadows, steadily craving for destruction, pain, and death? Why divide a man’s natural desire for peace, love, and security into fragments of occasional moments almost forgotten in the daily fight for survival?

  “Will you want me tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Yes, tomorrow and forever, but the future is another day unknown to us. Who knows if the gods will see fit to allow us to live on?” I replied.

  A trembling sigh of resignation ran through her body as a shiver of a heart’s cold acceptance. I pulled her to me, kissing her gently on her lips while caressing her cheek with my fingers. She buried her face into my chest as her tears flowed freely, cascading onto my muscles and slowly traveling down toward the bedcovers to finally land on the hearth of loves plain—never to find the waters of life’s answers. It was too much for Sapalulmea, and she cried herself to sleep with fitful starts that pulled me out of my revelry—out to the questions I have asked all my life—toward the answers just out of reach. Is this my purpose? Is there a purpose to any of this?

  I sighed and rolled over to fall into a deep sleep that had escaped me for so long that I fell into a trance of a vision’s dream from which no man or god would have been able to awaken me.

  * * *

  Golden fields of barley laid ahead of me, ripe for the harvest. They swayed in the breeze as the sun shone down shafts of light that danced off their heads, splintering into colorful rainbows of gold, green, and blue hues that were beautiful to look upon and gloriously splayed out on their calm, swaying stalks. I looked up to the sky, wondering at the spectacle and squinting while holding my hand over my brow to shade out the searing light of midday.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, drawing my sight to the right. A dark figure was running at a right angle toward me, slowly coming into view. Its mane snapped against the wind as it ran, throwing up clumps of dirt high into the air. Powerful muscles stretched and contracted, gleaming under a black hide of sweat-slicked hair. Terror whipped out from its eyes, striking me with dread. The horse ran harder, lunging for the mountains in the east with a panic unknown to such a beast. Tendrils of fear moved up my spine toward the nape of my neck, imploring me to flee as well, but I held on to my sanity and planted my feet firmly into the earth and looked to the west—the source of the horse’s fear.

  Dark, roiling clouds of seething blackness tumbled over each other and chased the sun away from the day while pursuing the stallion with the pealing cackle of lightning’s glory, spraying the barley fields with pebbles of ice, and breaking stalks in a tumultuous display of satisfaction.

  Thunderous bellows beat down from the sky like drums of war, announcing the destructive intent about to be wielded toward man and beast alike. A lightning bolt flashed across the roiling clouds with a soul-shaking blast of energy, immediately emitting a profound quake of thunder. The earth jolted in agony as the storm whipped across the landscape, churning the ground into a faceless unknown—a dead sea of mud. Gradually the surface split open, and a dark chasm of death opened up in front of me, displaying a blackness beyond comprehension. I screamed in complete terror, looking east then west for an escape but unable to move, unable to think clearly in my irrational, heightened level of panic. Slowly the sound coalesced into a voice of booming resonance that thundered within my chest, making my legs tremble with its awesome power.

  “You, son of man, why do you cry out with such pity and destitution?” the voice asked. Trembling and looking around for the source of the voice, I replied, “Oh, my lord, I did not mean any disrespect. I am terrified by the actions and portents being spread out before me. What all of this is to mean, I do not know. I only wish for answers to the purpose of my life.”

  “And what is it that bothers you so?”

  “I have been blessed with life everlasting, but none of my people have this blessing. Why? And what is the purpose of this?”

  “Do you consider this to be a malediction?”

  “I am not sure, my lord.”

  “Do you see the clouds, the earth, and the mountains? Where did they come from? Who or what formed them? Tell me, if you know.”

  “I do not know, my lord. I am but a poor wretch of a soldier in my master’s army. These things are beyond my understanding.”

  “Know this, son of man—the ways of the earth are like the waves of the sea, rolling back and forth without end, eating away at the very fabric of rock since time immemorial. Man is the fringe of the earth’s garment, however, rocking its ways and creating unexpected terms. What is to be the outcome, son of man? Where will this take you? The sea and the earth cry out with pain and sickness of heart, wanting to be healed but to no avail. Is a man to ignore this sickness and suffer the consequences? I ask you, will you ignore this plight? Sand sits on the wind and is thrown from here to there. As tiny as it is, its outcome causes such a hailstorm of discontent. Storms of damnation and destruction fall toward the blood-soaked fields of men. Tell, please tell—what is to be done?” it asked as it looked me straight in my eyes with a seemingly vast understanding of all that it had said; appreciating the fact that I could not know.

  “My lord, I am not able to tell as I absolutely do not know. I am sick with shame and regret. I do not know what is to be done.”

  “Cut the snake off at the head, and it dies. Strike the bull through the heart, and it dies. Feed the Leviathan, and it leaves for another day. Heed my words, son of man. Heed my words until he who comes with a reply strikes the very ground you stand on with a staff of unenviable wrath to heal the times and days that are to quickly approach,” it rumbled, pealing across the sky like thunder at night. “The nature of man, the fundamental fabric of what it means to be human—you are to observe and write down what you see. These writings are for future times and ways to ponder over. What do you say, son of man?” it asked.

  “Yes. Of course, I will do all you have requested,” I answered.

  “I will return to you in the future when the time of compilation and discovery are required. For now, do as you say, and wait for my return.”

  “Yes, my lord. As you wish.”

  My legs gave out at that moment, and I fell to the ground as a dead man, darkness overtaking me in an envelope of quiet eternity.

  With a start, I awoke, covered in sweat and shivering in the cold dark of early morning. I sat up and wrapped myself in my blanket to fight against the night’s cold embrace. After standing, I walked out of the tent and looked up to the stars, contemplating the meaning of the dream while trying to shake off its effects. I had never felt s
uch soul-destructive terror—such complete panic. I shook my head to clear out the memory and to try to claim some meaning from it. My hands trembled at the possible portents. I looked down at them and noticed white points where my fingernails had bitten into my palms. The fear was so great. I looked up into the star-filled night sky again, wondering.

  Chapter 9

  A Decision Comes

  (1161 BC Earth Time)

  Camp life did not allow for hope. It only gave the day’s routine, which was sprinkled with the gnawing anxiety of doubt and fear.

  Will we see each other again? What does the future hold?

  “My love, the Army is assembling again for another campaign into Elam. What will become of us? This anxiety and stress of camp life are making me sick to my bones,” Sapalulmea said as she laid on our bed.

  “Yes, I understand. It is making me question the very reason for all this campaigning. Are we just fodder for the emperor’s greed and corruption? Does not Assyria have enough?” I vented with frustration and anger bubbling up and out to the peace of the day.

  “This place is not suitable to raise a family, Talmido. Is there a possibility of discharge since you have served faithfully and well beyond your time limit?”

  “I will approach Si-tatious with a formal written request and ask for a meeting with the general to determine if and when I may be discharged.”

  “Yes, that is all you can do, my dear. That is all you can do and hope for,” Sapalulmea affirmed with a loving whisper of desire.

  She accepted this with a grace flowing from her tears as each day ended with us together and love’s mantle firmly planted upon our bed’s hearth. I loved her deeply from within my core being. My heart pumped with joy at her sight. Whenever I went into battle, I did so with a ferocity and determination that dispelled any and all reason and pulled all actions and reactions into a synchronous harmony, to the detriment of my enemy. We talked about life beyond war and the camp, envisioning a time of peace and growth. This excited us to the point where we believed in our infallibility and the Assyrian army commander’s benevolence. I decided to approach my closest and most trusted friend to ask for my reprieve from army duty as I felt I had provided enough value to warrant my release. Frowning, Si-tatious accepted my written request and mentioned he would let me know his answer the next day.

  “Do you think Si-tatious will grant us a reprieve?” she asked.

  “I have killed more enemies than any other soldier in this army. I think it would be in their best interest to give me what I want,” I replied.

  “But what if they don’t? You are, by all accounts, a military slave, as I am.”

  “Yes, that is true. However, I think we have earned our freedom. I have more gold and slaves than Si-tatious has.”

  “What about the general? Do you think he will give you what you want?”

  “Only the gods know, my love. Only the gods know.”

  We waited a day and then another, and by the time Si-tatious came back to me with a reply, a new moon had arrived. He seemed nervous with a slight tremble to his weathered hands as he gave me the answer. He held it out to me as I paused, looking at it with the gnawing anxiety of despair. I reached for it and grasped the package while thinking of the possibilities. I pulled the letter out and read the cuneiform inscriptions with ravenous hunger. As I read, a deep upwelling of anger flowed up from the bowels of my inner self, and a low cry of rage escaped my lips. Si-tatious took a step back and grasped the handle of his sword. I looked up into his eyes and saw a twitch of sadness and regret. He knew the answer and had anticipated my reaction.

  “Si-tatious, what is this? I have done more for this army than any other man. I have enriched the commanders beyond compare. Why the denial? Have I not yet earned my freedom?”

  “Talmido, my friend, we have fought many battles together. Saved each other from certain death numerous times. We have shared the cup of wine’s intoxication to celebrate our victories. Do you not remember? This is not my decision. If it were up to me, peace would be your reward with a lineage of children to carry on the stories of your bravery. However, it is not up to me. What can I do?”

  “Convince the general to change his decision!” I spat out between clenched teeth.

  “I tried. That is why it took so long to get back to you, my friend.”

  “I will not stay. Sapalulmea will die if we stay. This is no life for any man or woman here. We are leaving. Will you join me, my friend? Si-tatious, will you help me?” I spat out in a whisper of pure fury and unbridled resolution, however at the same time with a plea coming from a sincere desire to attain peace and normalcy in my life.

  Si-tatious hung his head in despair. His shoulders sagged under the weight of duty and love—love for his country, his companions, and his friend. I had saved his life too many times to recall, pulling him out of the possible defeat to taste the sweet victory that any man of mortal stature would have succumbed to.

  “How long have we known each other, Talmido? How many times have you saved my life? We are like brothers, how could I not join you? I have pledged an oath of fealty to our brotherhood. I have bled with you, wept with you and rejoiced with you. Our friendship is deeper than blood. I will follow you to hades if need be,” Si-tatious exclaimed while grasping my forearm to indicate his dedication to our cause.

  “Thank you, my friend. Please, prepare the company and the slaves for our departure one full moon from now. Also, find out from the captains the mood of the men to find out how many will follow us,” I said, looking directly into Si-tatious’ eyes.

  “Yes, absolutely. I’ll take care of the company and the slaves.”

  “I will have to deal with General Bel-Taggil and Hattusili. We will need to be very careful and take care of any wagging tongues, Si-tatious. I am sure Hattusili has his spies within our ranks.”

  Si-tatious nodded his head. “Absolutely, I’ll assign counterintelligence measures immediately.”

  Our riches had grown beyond compare, and the elites of the Assyrian army enviously scrutinized how to confiscate our bounty within the prevailing laws of the Assyrian hierarchy. They did not want to lose their most prized possession as it had returned to them more wealth and power than any other.

  The powers knew of my death-defying abilities and would never acquiesce to losing this most valuable asset. For them, something had to be done to put me in my place once and for all. The request for a reprieve was not taken lightly, and the authorities had mobilized quite a large force to stop my escape or release.

  Chapter 10

  Plotting

  The schemes and machinations of men seemed to abound under crisis. The worst of behaviors tended to rise to the surface and display themselves in all their dark glory. Nowhere was slipping the bonds of morality and ethics more acceptable or more evident than in warfare. Even though armies tried to maintain a semblance of order, it was a challenge straining against the reality of death and destruction.

  It was within those moments that a particular kind of man sees an opportunity in the misfortune of his brother or fellow man, utilizing the loss as a personal gain for an enhanced position, material wealth, power, or influence. A scribe of Babylonian origin, within the army unit under General Bel-Taggil, was one such individual—a man with a twisted mind of smoke, facades, and buttresses of stubborn greed born out of desperation and a desire to succeed as a scribe slave within the Assyrian army. The slave’s name was given to him by his master, Bel-Taggil, to indicate his supposed pledge of fealty to Assyria and Bel-Taggil himself.

  “Where is Shishak? Send for him,” Hattusili commanded as he sat on his couch with a goblet of wine in his left hand.

  “He is at the male harem, my lord,” the servant replied.

  “Well, bring him to me. Immediately.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Shortly Shishak was escorted into Hattusili’s tent dressed in the customary kedeshah garb, indicating his pure devotion to the goddess Ashtoreth. Being a temple p
rostitute, a symbol of piety was to perform sacred sex devoted to the resident goddess.

  “Come here, Shishak.” Hattusili pointed and waved him to move closer. An evil smile of what was to come played upon Hattusili’s face with a sickening suggestion of deviant vice.

  The boy shuffled forward with his head hung down, knowing what the night was to bring. His hands trembled with fear, anticipating the pain and humiliation to be cast upon him from the evil presented before him.

  Hattusili smiled and lifted the boy’s head up to look him in his eyes as he drew him closer. He ran his hands up and down the boy’s body, greedily taking in the youth and the pleasure to be. He turned and finished his wine with one swift gulp.

  “Undress, Shishak, and let me take a look at you.”

  Shishak obediently complied as his legs shook in fear.

  This man of utter deviant behavior, Hattusili, kept records on all the men and materials of the general’s army so the quartermaster could fix appropriations via plunder and reclamation from previous battles. He was privy to Talmido’s material acquisitions, as all loot was apportioned first according to rank, and then by deeds, and finally by results. Talmido’s deeds and results were impressive in the extreme, and the poison of jealousy reared its ugly head within Hattusili’s heart, casting false reasoning to justify the passion of the course he so fervently desired.

  Why do some men have gifts of one kind or another that seemed to stand out, while the vast majority of others moved through life under a cloak of obscurity? What force of accident put Hattusili on this course of life’s path?