'Are you prepared to swear by Zabrazal's sacred altar and may Zabrazal curse you and your children and their children if you violate this oath?'
I took the oath after which Izebol administered the oath to Sharma and then pointed to his companions and said, 'They are also witnesses and they have taken the same oath.' To Sharma, he said, 'Kneel!' He gestured to the priests, who arranged themselves in a semi-circle around Sharma. Pouring a few drops of oil on Sharma's forehead, Izebol proclaimed, 'I anoint you as the King of Keirine. It is the will of Zabrazal.' He rubbed the oil across Sharma's forehead, put his hands on Sharma's head, murmured a short prayer, and then raised Sharma to his feet. The ceremony took less than a minute. It was short, simple and momentous.
Sharma got up slowly and looked around unsteadily like a man in a daze. He appeared to be astounded at what had happened -- as well he should be. He wiped away a trickle of oil above his eyelid and then looked fixedly at the smear on his fingers as if he wondered how it had got there. Then Sharma smiled shyly, almost apologetically, like a man who has stumbled on a priceless jewel while walking across a barren field.
Izebol asked, 'Jina, you have witnessed that Sharma has been anointed as the King of Keirine?'
I muttered, 'Yes, your honour.'
'Speak up, man, so that everyone can hear.'
I got a hold of my emotions as well as my voice and said 'Yes, your honour. I have witnessed it.'
'Tell me what you have witnessed.'
Still unsteadily, I replied, 'I have witnessed that you have anointed Sharma as the King of Keirine.'
'And you have sworn that --?'
'Your honour, I have sworn that I will never speak about what I have witnessed here until the day of Vaxili's death.'
Izebol nodded, raised a finger, and said, 'Remember your oath, and may Zabrazal curse you if you betray it.' He leaned back against the table, looking tired and drained. He put his hands to his forehead and, with eyes closed, shook his head wearily before he said, 'Zabrazal has begun to call me home. Every time he calls, his voice is more insistent. One day soon he will give me the final call.' Izebol paused for breath and rubbed his head as if he was clearing it of errant thoughts. However, when he spoke again, his voice was strong and clear. 'I also foresee that Vaxili, disobedient wastrel that he is, won't last for long. He might survive me but even if he does, it won't be long before he walks the same path to Zabrazal's place of judgement.' Izebol leaned back again and closed his eyes. This time, he paused for so long that I thought that he had fallen into a trance. There was a breathless silence in the room. Then Izebol roused himself, blinked as if he was coming back from a far place, snapped his fingers, and said, 'Our business here is finished. It's time for us to go.'
Sharma said, 'Your honour, you have had a long journey. We can prepare quarters for you and your companions. You can stay for the night and then leave at your leisure.'
Izebol shook his head. 'We thank you for your courtesy but it is best that we should leave as soon as possible. The fewer the number of people who know about our visit, the better.' He pulled on his cloak, motioned to his companions to leave the room, and held out his hand. As we kneeled and kissed his finger-tips, Izebol murmured a blessing. At the door, he paused and said sternly, 'Remember your oath!' He covered his face and left.
Sharma took a deep breath. His eyelid was twitching but otherwise he looked calm. What was he thinking? Within a matter of minutes, his status had changed from that of a rebel to that of the future King of Keirine. It was so astonishing that I wondered if it had really happened. The whole incident had the quality of one of those fever-inspired visions that drifted through my mind while I lay wracked by illness in the squalid hut in Koraina. I felt weak and sat down with my head resting on my arms. Sharma put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'Compose yourself, Jina. Nobody must know what has happened here.'
In a daze, I muttered, 'I'm all right.'
Sharma said lightly, 'You look as if you've been hit by a rock-fall.' Still with his hand on my shoulder, he sat down next to me. I blinked a few times, shook my head to try to clear it, and said, 'By Zabrazal, Sharma, you're calm about it.'
He replied in a steady voice, 'It is the will of Zabrazal, not so? Who am I to question it?'
I couldn’t help muttering with deep scepticism, ‘The will of Zabrazal!’
Sharma replied straight-faced, ‘That is what Izebol said, isn’t it?’
Sharma’s face was glowing as if he had passed through a baptismal bath of mercurial liquid. I said, 'You'd better stay here for a while. You'll give yourself away immediately if you go outside looking like that. People will think that Zabrazal himself paid you a visit, in all his glory.'
I started to ask myself the inevitable questions. Why did Izebol choose Sharma? Was it some sort of trick? If so, what was the aim of it? I also pondered the practical implications of what had happened. If it wasn’t a trick, how was it going to come to pass? When Vaxili died, was Sharma just going to come forward and claim the throne? Without any opposition? Faced with the complexity of the matter, and thinking of the uncertainties on the road ahead, I began to think that it was a trap for Sharma. When I said this to Sharma, he replied, 'If this is a trick, then Izebol has compromised himself as well as committed sacrilege.'
I replied, ‘Are you sure you don’t believe it just because you want to?’
Sharma looked at me narrowly, his head to one side. Then he pulled at an ear and said slowly, 'Do you remember when we were boys, how we sat on the hills and talked about Keirine and the future?' I nodded. I could picture the day as fresh as if had happened yesterday. Sharma said reflectively, 'For a long time, I've felt that it's my destiny to guide the kingdom.'
'But, Sharma, to be king!'
Sharma just closed his eyes and nodded calmly as if he had received an infusion of inner strength and confidence. I said, 'If this is what you want, Sharma, it’s going to be a hard road to walk. Getting there will be hard -- but staying there will be even harder.'
Sharma leaned forward and grasped my shoulder. 'Will you walk the road with me, Jina?' I nodded. Sharma said, 'Good! I need you. More than anyone, I need you.' He squeezed my shoulder and said earnestly, 'With you by my side, I can climb the heights with confidence.'
I kept the secret for three years, as did Sharma, until the time came to step into the open and climb the final slopes towards the summit.
Sharma’s time was coming close. So was mine.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: ROTTEN FRUIT
Surprisingly, Vaxili made no move to re-invade Lower Keirine. There was a rumour that Izebol had warned him off but, if that was true, what did Izebol say? Who knows? On the other hand, perhaps we were left in peace simply because Vaxili had his hands full in defending his kingdom from the Dornites. In the space of three years, the Dornites made two major incursions into Upper Keirine. On the first occasion, Vaxili's army fought them to a standstill, mainly because, following a near-revolt amongst the troops, Jainar had been reinstated as supreme commander. On the second occasion, Vaxili led the army personally -- and he led them to a crushing defeat. The Dornites captured all the Keirineian territory that they relinquished after the second battle of Gandonda as well as a portion of Vaxili's home area of Orifinre. The main cause of this catastrophic defeat was that Vaxili had purged all his senior commanders, Jainar included, accusing them of disloyalty and of plotting to assassinate him. However, as usual it was easy to see that the real reason was that Vaxili couldn’t co-exist with anyone who was capable of wielding power and responsibility successfully. Competence and efficiency near at hand threatened Vaxili far more than the threat posed by a distant enemy.
After the second battle, Vaxili's long-suffering troops finally did revolt. They marched on the palace and demanded that Vaxili should abdicate, that Jainar should take the crown, and that his fellow commanders should be restored to their positions. Vaxili blustered, cursing his soldiers as rebels and traitors and threatening to execute the ringleaders of th
e revolt. Understandably, this only infuriated the soldiers. With only the royal guard remaining loyal to Vaxili, matters had reached a point where it looked like Vaxili was going to go down either in surrender or death. That was when Izebol intervened. Surprisingly for such a crusty old fire-breather, he was so conciliatory that he succeeded in reconciling the opposing factions. The troops dropped their demand that Vaxili should abdicate on condition that all the imprisoned commanders were restored to their positions. It was a climb-down for Vaxili but it saved his crown -- and perhaps it saved his skin as well.
After the second battle, with Upper Keirine in disarray, some leading members of the Supreme Council approached Sharma privately to ask if he would be prepared to be crowned king of Lower Keirine. Before he gave his answer, Sharma summoned his senior commanders to be his witnesses. In our presence, he told the elders bluntly that Vaxili, the anointed choice of Zabrazal, was the only king in Keirine – and that was how it would be, as long as Vaxili was alive. The elders went away looking chastened. However, even while Sharma was giving a convincing performance as a loyalist -- loyal to the anointed king, loyal to the kingdom -- I sensed that he was plotting his moves well in advance. Like a good chess player, he would sacrifice a minor piece or even stage a retreat as long as he was moving towards the goal of toppling the opposing king and winning the game.
That evening, Roda came to see me. When I saw her at the door, I was so surprised that you could have knocked me over with a feather. Usually, when Roda was with Sharma, she would greet me with a forced smile, even as she glared at me. When she was alone, she just swept past me in disdain. Now, however, she simpered as she sidled up to me, giving the impression that we had never been anything else but the best of friends. I received her as cordially as possible while thinking privately that I would feel more secure if I was dealing with a spitting cobra.
Roda began by saying, 'Jina, we don't always see eye to eye, do we?'
I replied with feeling, 'That is so.'
Roda continued, 'But we both want the best for Sharma, don't we?'
I answered cautiously, ‘Well, he's my best and oldest friend. And as for you -- as his wife, of course it’s only natural that you would want the best for him.'
I should explain that Sharma married Roda soon after we came down from the mountains. When Sharma told me what he was planning, I tried my best to get him to change his mind by pointing out that he was already married to Mecolo. Sharma replied heatedly that the marriage was invalid because Vaxili had dissolved it and had forced Mecolo to remarry. Anyway, said Sharma, there was no law against having more than one wife. I could have continued the argument by reminding Sharma that Mecolo had just given birth to their son but seeing a familiar look in Sharma's eyes – a combination of determination and defiant anger – I shrugged and walked away. In fact, I wished that the matter could be dismissed with something as simple as a shrug. For a long time, I had been apprehensive that Sharma's relationships with his women were storing up a heap of trouble for him – and if they caused trouble for him, then I would also be involved. Whenever I thought about it, I had a feeling of gloomy apprehension, like the heavy-headedness that people feel when thunder clouds lurk ominously on the horizon for day after day.
A year after they married, Roda gave birth to a son and she produced another son a year later. Now Sharma had three sons by two different women. In the light of Sharma’s present position, this was complicated enough without speculating on what might happen if Sharma did ascend to the throne of Keirine one day.
Now, having been admitted to my house, Roda was looking at me thoughtfully with a finger laid against one of her smooth cheeks. Oh, she was attractive, for sure, with her clear, almost translucent skin, her large eyes, and her well-packaged frame. However, it was a long time since women's looks and women's wiles had had much effect on me and Roda in particular wasn’t going to win me over. Beauty or no beauty, I didn't like Roda and I didn't trust her.
She asked sweetly, 'Do you respect Sharma's abilities?'
'Of course I do.'
Roda laid a hand on my arm and said even more sweetly, 'Sharma respects you greatly.'
'I'm pleased to hear it.' I looked down at her hand and she winced and withdrew it from my arm.
Roda tried another tack, saying, 'You know, Jina, Sharma doesn't always know what's good for him. He's so busy with important matters that he doesn’t have time to look out for himself. You should use your influence with him to guide him in the right direction.'
'I give advice when I'm asked to do so.'
Roda put her head on one side, flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and looked at me closely. She asked, 'Do you think that Sharma is destined for bigger things?'
For a moment I wondered if she knew about Izebol's visit to Sharma. Then I dismissed the thought and replied, 'Of course! We all hope for bigger things. Wouldn’t you agree?'
Roda clucked her tongue in annoyance and said impatiently, 'Jina! Don't be so cold!' She leaned towards me and said in a confidential tone, 'You know that the council has offered the crown to Sharma, don't you?'
'Yes. It's common knowledge.'
'Well?'
'Well, what?'
Roda clenched her fists and bit her lip. However, she got herself under control and said winningly, 'Oh, Jina! Surely you know what I'm talking about!'
'I'm not a mind-reader. Why don't you speak plainly, Roda?'
Roda clicked her tongue again. 'I mean that Sharma should have accepted the offer? Don't you agree?'
'He's made his decision. Respect it, Roda. Leave things as they are.'
'It's not final. He can go back to the council at any time and tell them that he's changed his mind.'
'Maybe he could – but he won't.'
Roda put on another appealing smile. Looking up at me from under lowered eyelids, she asked, 'Jina, don't you see what it would mean to you if Sharma was king?'
'Do you mean that I would be the deputy king? Imagine that – a little throne for me, right next to Sharma's big throne.'
'Deputy king? Oh, Jina, you're such a joker! No, you'd be commander of the army.'
'And you, Roda, would be Queen of Lower Keirine. Queen Roda! What a leg-up that would be for a simple girl from Osicedi.'
Roda gritted her teeth, got herself under control again, and said in an even but strained voice, 'Jina, Jina, you misunderstand! It's not about me – not at all. It's about Sharma and what he deserves.'
'So you don't want to be Queen of Keirine?'
Roda was still trying to win me over even if she was smiling through gritted teeth. She said, 'Oh, Jina, you really do misunderstand me! I'm his wife. I just want what's best for Sharma – that's all.'
'Sharma has made the decision that's best for him, best for all of us, and best for Keirine.'
'But, Jina, don't you see that –'
'That's enough, Roda! Stop trying to manipulate me. I don't want to discuss it any more.'
'But, Jina –'
'Do you hear me? No more!'
Roda dropped her mask. Her eyes blazed and she spat at me. Then she hissed and stalked away.
At about the same time, a story about Sharma began to spread through Lower Keirine. According to the story, when Sharma was a just a stripling shepherd boy, he killed a sheep-thieving Dornite giant with one stone from his sling. The giant was a huge man who towered torso, head and shoulders above ordinary mortals and had shoulders as broad as a sack of grain. Later the story was embellished with the detail that Sharma cut off the vanquished man's head with one blow from the giant's sword. As the story gained currency, it was further embellished with the detail that by killing the giant Sharma saved all of Lower Keirine from invasion by the Dornites. Someone wrote a poem about the incident and soon the poem spawned a popular song. When a minstrel sang the ballad at a banquet at our headquarters, Sharma nodded approvingly and rewarded him with a pat on the back and two gold coins. Soon the legend of Sharma and the Dornite Giant became part of t
he folklore of Lower Keirine and not much later it became part of the folklore of all of Keirine.
I suspected that the story originated with Roda. Of course, I couldn't prove it. She used to whistle a few bars from the tune of the song whenever I passed by her as if she knew how much this sort of myth-making, this misleading nonsense, annoyed me.
Not long after my conversation with Roda, Vaxili died in a Dornite ambush. They said that Vaxili fought like a hero and finally fell on his sword to avoid being captured. It was probably true because, as I said, personal courage was about the only positive quality that Vaxili wasn't short of.
The death sent Keirine into a ferment of activity and intrigue. With me as his witness, Sharma told the Supreme Council of Lower Keirine that Izebol had anointed him as Vaxili's successor. Councilors from Upper Keirine met with councilors from Lower Keirine and I led a delegation of our military commanders that held discussions with commanders from Upper Keirine. Izebol, who was near to death at Sininda, sent messengers to the councils in both Upper and Lower Keirine to confirm that he had anointed Sharma. Unfortunately the messenger who was on his way to the Council of Upper Keirine was ambushed and killed before he reached his destination and Izebol died before he could send another messenger. Mysteriously, after Izebol died, not one of the priests who had been present on the occasion could remember anything about an anointment. However, the messenger from Izebol to Lower Keirine delivered his message safely to the Supreme Council.
Within a month, the Council of Upper Keirine nominated Vaxili's son, Aebrel, as the new king. Of course, there was outrage in Lower Keirine. In a desperate last measure, the council sent a message to Upper Keirine to try to delay the crowning. The factions supporting Aebrel imprisoned the messenger until after the coronation and then paraded him in public, accusing him of being a liar and a rumour--monger. After they flogged him, they sent him packing with the warning that he would be killed if he spoke to anyone before he reached Lower Keirine.
In Lower Keirine, the Supreme Council and the army commanders met to discuss the situation. There was a lot of fire-breathing and fist-thumping but Sharma settled the matter by saying flatly that he would not countenance any talk of invading Upper Keirine. He stated that an invasion, whether successful or not, would drive the two parts of Keirine further apart. Anyway, said Sharma, the intrigues and instability in Upper Keirine would soon drive Aebrel from power. In the meantime, all that was necessary was to make it known throughout all parts of Keirine that he, Sharma, was the anointed king, and that he was waiting to re-unite Keirine in a peaceful manner.
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