by Fiona Tarr
The latest had disturbed him, making him extremely anxious to return home. Miriam had written that her father’s moods were growing increasingly dark. He brooded over the public adoration towards David and his battle successes. Martinez still led the army, however all the men held David in high regard. He needed to speak with Martinez about this news. He had mulled over it for days and with nearly all the settlements empty of refugees and the borders once again under control, he felt it may be an opportune time to return home.
David, Jonathan and Martinez sat quietly in Martinez’s tent over a clay cup of warm mulled wine. The nights had been growing increasingly cold in the desert areas. A warm brazier kept the officer’s tent comfortable. The soft glow of the coals created an almost hypnotic atmosphere. The reflections on the tent walls, danced as the night breeze moved the fabric.
'I do not know how to raise this with you, however I feel I must,' explained David to Martinez and Jonathan. 'Please know I do not want to offend anyone. I ask this out of genuine concern.' Both Martinez and Jonathan exchanged looks; Jonathan had been far brighter over the past few weeks, the pain of his loss gradually abating, the concerns of his duty taking over his senses again.
'We both know you are always honest in your motivations David, what worries you?' Martinez moved forward to close the circle around the brazier. He dropped an extra chunk of coal in for more warmth as he thought to himself that his bones were feeling older by the day.
'I received a letter from Miriam recently. She is most concerned about the King and his state of mind,' David noticed the strange look on Jonathan’s face and he quickly added, 'Don’t get me wrong I don’t mean he is insane or anything. Miriam has said he is growing increasingly dark and moody. Apparently the mention of my name in any of our battle successes drives him to angry outbursts. I am only concerned for the King’s wellbeing.' David was now unsure if he should have mentioned anything.
'Father is just blowing off steam because he cannot be here amongst the fighting. He always hated politics, preferring to leave it to mother,' Jonathan drifted into silence at the mention of Derai. He quickly masked his pain.
Martinez clasped Jonathan’s wrist with his hand, gently acknowledging his loss. 'No, I have been hearing reports also. This I am afraid may cause you further pain Jonathan. The King has taken to spending all his time with Jezebel again, not visiting any of his concubines or children, even missing important meetings with the priests and officials. There are too many sources indicating the same information. The situation here has settled down, I think we will leave Bartholomew here with a regiment or two and head home to check on your father and his kingdom.'
Martinez could see Jonathan did not appear happy to return to the palace. This was understandable, considering that all his painful memories would be waiting for him.
'There are many happy memories of your mother there too Jonathan. Do not deprive yourself of them.'
David on the other hand was beside himself with renewed joy and struggled unsuccessfully to keep it from his face. He was going home to a soft warm bed, with hot and nutritious well cooked meals, together with the delights of a perfectly designed pleasure playground, as he had come to think of his wife. It was not that he underestimated her intelligence. He did not mean this revelation disrespectfully. It was simply that he had come to the conclusion that God had most definitely designed women to be the perfect companion for man.
Martinez smiled to himself. Oh to be young again, he thought, young and in love. He missed Derai terribly. The thought of her together with the warm wine was making him feel melancholy. He dismissed the young men, making his way to his bed. He gulped down another cup of wine and wrapped himself unceremoniously in his blanket. As he drifted off to sleep it was not Derai’s face he pictured. It was the face of red lips, long dark waving hair, with the look of quiet dignity he had come to know as Francesca. A strange longing came over him, which he quickly dismissed because of the guilt he felt over betraying Derai’s memory.
Francesca held Samuel’s hand as he drifted in and out of consciousness. This cannot be happening, she kept repeating to herself. Samuel had spoken of his days being numbered but Francesca had not seriously considered that his time would come so soon. Tears were now rolling down her face uncontrollably.
'What will I do without your guidance?' she sobbed.
Samuel’s eyes opened again for only a few seconds. He recognised her and closed them again. She thought he was gone and frantically felt for his heartbeat.
With his eyes closed he spoke, startling her. 'You must trust in your destiny. Do not seek to control it. Seek out the soldier who leads the King’s army. He needs you as much as you need him.'
With that his last breath was released. His spirit was free to join his maker. Francesca almost felt his soul leave. She slumped down, all her physical and mental energy gone. She had no idea how long she had stayed there. She was lost in thought. Samuel had been her guide, her mentor and her father for so many years. She felt like she was once again the frightened lost child, brutalized and beaten. Something was burning inside of her, a flame she had forgotten. She had been led out of that camp that night by Samuel’s voice. Yet it was the spirit of God she had felt. How could she have forgotten the miracle of that night? They had not replaced her bindings and she had walked past the guards unseen. That was not Samuel’s work; it was divine intervention. She bowed her head.
'Lord take Samuel to be with you now. He has waited patiently to see you for so long. Thank you for reminding me it is you I have served and needed all these years. It is your spirit through Samuel that I have followed. If you wish me to seek out the general of the King’s army and help him lead the future King, then so be it.'
With her prayer released, her spirit calmed. The fear she had felt at Samuel’s passing was now beginning to ease. There was much to do and Francesca was once again filled with purpose for the work ahead.
****
'Get out, everyone, out immediately,' screamed Saul to the sea of faces before him. 'Who do you think you are? I am King in this place! You do not tell me what I should do! Get out, right now before I have the guards remove you all.'
With that he stood, pointing to the large double doors at the entrance to his atrium. There was no mistaking the look of malevolence on his face. The delegates left his meeting hall, trying to hide the look of outrage from their faces. Saul was King and the delegates were only there to formulate policy, to handle daily management. The King had the final say in all matters. He had made it abundantly clear that he understood this perfectly well. Unfortunately the delegates and officials were not sure he was entirely sane in his decision-making. The issue was, they were even less sure of what to do about it.
Jezebel smiled triumphantly at the retreating backs of the officials. It had taken some time to regain her grip on Saul. He had resisted her temptations over and over out of a sense of guilt. She had realised, unexpectedly, that he was genuinely grieving for his loss. In such a short time Derai had managed to turn him into a blubbering fool. Well he was her fool now, a puppet dangling on her strings. It had taken all her patience, with weeks of gradually weakening Saul to her influences, invading his dreams with visions of her body, something he believed he could once again control in his life: allowing Jezebel to ultimately take the master controls again. A few weeks of lust and allowing him to believe he had control of her in the bedchamber, doing whatever his dark side could conjure up and he was hers again, totally and devotedly hers. The feelings of triumph and ecstasy at this level of control were intoxicating. Jezebel found the power far more rewarding than anything she could have imagined. She would bring the Israeli kingdom to its knees and she was going to enjoy every waking moment of it. Her father would be so pleased with her when she opened the gates to the city and allowed the Egyptian Pharaoh to collect up his slaves once again. It was what they were born for after all. The Israeli ancestors that lived now were all direct descendants of the slave race, born in captivity
in Egypt during four hundred years of slavery. She did not understand how they could expect to be anything other than the sad and pitiful slaves they were born to be?
Saul sighed as the last delegate disappeared and the atrium doors were closed. He looked around the vast hall, with its painted murals, white-washed walls and marble floors. He was furious. How dare they tell him which nations he should or should not seek to rule? The constant talk of David fighting, winning his battles for him was only adding to his rage. He knew deep in his spirit that David was only a boy and intended no threat to his position. Yet there was something else nudging at his soul, making him fearful. The only thing that calmed him now was Jezebel, who stood before him offering to take his mind from his troubles. Her eyes were almost deep purple in colour and beautifully painted with dark eyeliner making them cat-like in appearance. Her long black hair swung down her back. It was so soft and silky to touch. She dropped her sheer overlay which had barely covered her body making her under garments slightly visible underneath. Now her body was exposed as she dropped the final layer of gold cloth from her chest, taking Saul’s breath from him instantly. Her body promised pleasure beyond what the senses could cope with. The King’s heart began to race as Jezebel knelt before him offering soothing words until words were not possible. His anguish disappearing as pleasure took its place.
****
The time was passing quickly as the troops made their way back to the palace, for everyone except David, who simply could not get home fast enough. He needed Miriam like he needed air to breath. Another night on the road was one too many. Jonathan, Martinez and David were eating their beef broth when a commotion caught their attention. A guard had indicated the camp had a visitor. The visitor was insisting on seeing the General of the army. Francesca walked into view as Martinez stood to greet her, a strange feeling of delight accompanied the sight of her, taking him by surprise.
'My, what a pleasure to see you Francesca. What brings you to our camp?' Francesca was unsure if Martinez was genuinely greeting her or being sarcastic. She decided to keep emotion out of the conversation.
'A lot brings me to the camp General, but mostly I come with word from Samuel, his dying words actually,' she said as she bowed her head to hide her pain.
'I am sorry my lady, I know you were close. I had thought the old prophet would live forever. He will be greatly missed, especially for his wisdom.' Francesca nodded but could not speak any more of Samuel.
'Apparently I will be needed in matters of the King and the Kingdom.' She kept to herself information regarding a new King, as this would only serve to destabilize the situation further.
'Coincidentally, we are heading back to support the King now; word has come to us that there is unrest in the senate. It seems Samuel’s days of prophecy were not over, his wisdom still prevails, even after his passing.'
David and Jonathan had sat quietly watching the exchange. Jonathan smiled at David, seeing the uneasy nature of the exchange. He wondered at it, obviously Jonathan could see something which David could not. The two young men retreated quickly, David with a little encouragement from Jonathan before he followed the lead.
'It is actually good to see you Francesca. Much has happened since we last met.'
Martinez went on to talk of the strange circumstance surrounding Derai’s death and the King’s dark moods. He explained the King’s renewed relationship with Jezebel. Martinez did not really know why he was explaining all this to Francesca. He simply felt she needed to know or was it that he needed to tell her? Or possibly, he simply wished to prolong the conversation and time with her.
Francesca was unsure of how much of what she knew should be shared with Martinez, but Samuel’s instructions had been clear. They needed each other in the quest to protect the Israeli nation. She looked around carefully to ensure no one could overhear the conversation. Leaning in close to speak, she closed the distance between them.
'There is much you do not know Martinez. Samuel has foreseen many of these events, however as a Priestess I have also walked the paths of the future. Jezebel is a dark force to be reckoned with. The King’s mood is her doing, and he has chosen to allow her to take over his thoughts. He is weak when it comes to her powers and I do not only refer to her magic powers. Her beauty and promises of lust are too much for the King. While Derai was alive and their relationship was renewed, Jezebel's hold was wilting. The way you have described Derai’s death would indicate it was not an accident. It was likely an act of dark magic.' Francesca became aware of just how close she had moved in toward Martinez. She could feel the heat from his body and the feelings which it evoked unnerved her. The closeness was not missed by Martinez. He recalled his earlier feelings when thoughts of Francesca had come unbidden. The silence grew between them—becoming uncomfortable—both feeling the emotions rising, both unwilling to allow them to go anywhere.
Martinez broke free of the moment as he suddenly considered what Francesca had said. He remained close enough to maintain their privacy. 'You mean he really is possessed. I thought she might be a witch, but I also thought I was imagining it because I disliked her. You honestly believe she would have arranged Derai’s death?' This thought began to enrage Martinez.
'No one arranged her death Martinez. Jezebel uses dark, very dark magic to kill. She invades people’s minds with images, pain and confusion. She needs no one to do her deeds for her. She is powerful indeed.' The silence grew between them once more.
'The information you have given me is very helpful. It must obviously remain between us. Our sources indicate that Saul has grown untrusting. He is unhappy with David, yet David has done nothing but serve the King unconditionally. What do you make of this?' Martinez looked expectantly to Francesca. She was surprised by his confidence in her. She needed to consider her answer carefully, in light of her knowledge of David’s prophesied future. She realised Jezebel had much to gain by raising distrust of David with the King. Yet how did Jezebel know how important David was? She could not walk the futures. She did not know his role. She must have been acting on sheer instinct; therefore Francesca would have to use this to her advantage.
'Jezebel will do anything to maintain control of the King. Paranoia and distrust are her allies. The King also enjoys David’s company; his music calms and lifts his moods. It makes sense she would wish to reduce his favour in the King’s mind.' This answer was partly true and seemed to satisfy Martinez, who nodded his understanding while the deep furrows on his forehead showed his concern. 'We will do what we can to hinder Jezebel. I must remain unseen though, she is aware of my Priestess gifts and will know why I have visited. The King also knows me. I will work behind the scenes to help you keep the King from being overcome by Jezebel’s darkness.'
'David is aware the King is unhappy with him. Miriam, his wife has written to advise him of the King’s rage when the people and the Senate praise David for the victorious battles. We have long days of riding ahead of us. I think I will retire. I will have a shelter erected for you next to my tent. I am afraid my men have been some time without their wives and your safety is paramount.' Martinez smiled and bowed with a tilt of his head. Francesca was left with her thoughts. They were not of war, dark magic or prophecy. They were of the sun gold skin, dark brooding eyes and broad shouldered man who had just shaken her resolve with his smile. You stupid woman, anyone would think you were a young maiden, she berated herself. However the smile stayed on her lips as she waited to be lead to her bed.
****
The remainder of the journey took another week. The army, the officers and Francesca were all very happy to reach the city. They made their way along the stone laid alleys of the outer city, the sound of the horse’s feet echoing through the lower town. Francesca rode alongside Martinez at the head of the long column of riders, followed by the infantry who marched along behind. She looked back at the scene as they began the climb up the hill towards the palace. The line of fighting men disappeared in the distance as they made their way into
the market town, where the merchants had laid out their wares for the returning soldiers, in hopes that they carried coin. It was here that she pulled her horse aside, Martinez following her as the rest of the mounted soldiers carried on.
'You will need to clean up before you go into hiding. Do you have anywhere to stay while you are in the city?' Martinez had enjoyed Francesca’s company over the last week; he was genuinely concerned for her welfare.
'I have friends I can stay with, yes. Thank you for your concern. I will get word to you when we need to meet to discuss any issues.'
'Can I escort you to your accommodation?' Martinez did not want to say goodbye just yet.
Francesca felt it too. She gently touched his forearm, which was only partially covered by his armour. The touch of her hand on his skin caused her stomach to roll.
'I will be fine. Thank you. I will send word where and when to find me. I have a few trusted people around me who I will give messages to. Where should they find you to deliver them?'
'I train every morning before first light in the barrack’s training grounds; they can find me there. For your safety, they will need to seal the messages so no one else can read them. Leave them with the sentry on duty advising it must be delivered immediately to me on the training ground. This way the guards will know I am expecting the message and deliver it quickly.' Martinez placed his hand over Francesca’s which was still on his arm and squeezed gently. 'Be careful,' was all he could say. He quickly nudged his horse forward to re-join the army, as they moved through the front gates of the upper city.
Francesca watched his back as he rode away, with his strong and confident riding style. She sighed and took a quick breath as he glanced back one last time. Smiling she turned her mount into a side alley, leading away from the market. She would head through a different gate into the upper city, ensuring no one followed her. The priests in the city could not be trusted. No longer men of God, they were pawns of politics. She needed to find sanctuary; the physicians would be pleased to have her help.