'Go to Keirine? Of course not! They can settle their own affairs in their own way. It's no concern of mine.'
'But –'
'Look, Reshaja, right now I've got two things on my mind, and two things only. The first is to get a good night's sleep. The second is to get up early, feeling refreshed, to start dealing with all the business matters that have piled up while I've been away.'
'You're going to ignore Sharma's request?'
'Damn right I'm going to ignore it!'
'But, my friend, you can't do that.'
'I can do it and I am doing it.'
Reshaja moved around so that he was positioned between the door and me. He said, 'I'm sorry, my friend – you can't do that.'
'Why not?'
'Because it would distress His Excellency the governor.'
'Governor? Which governor?'
'His Excellency the governor of Terfillere, of course.'
'What does he have to do with it?'
Reshaja said patiently, 'Instability in Keirine is bad for all of us.'
'Not good for trade, eh?'
'That's true. But there are plenty of other things that it isn't good for, either.' Reshaja spread his hands, moved squarely in front of the door, and said, 'Be reasonable, my friend. You know how ordinary people live. After all, you were a shepherd once and your father was a farmer and a merchant. You know that wars and revolts might be good for rulers, kings, and generals – depending on who wins and who loses -- but for the rest of us they just bring poverty and suffering.' He looked at me almost pleadingly and said, 'Come now, my friend, be reasonable.'
Reshaja was planted so firmly in front of the door, legs apart and arms folded, that it appeared that I would have to remove him by force in order to leave the room. I asked, 'Are you a spokesman for the governor?'
'No. But His Excellency asked me to call on him after my ship docked. I know his concerns about the matter. '
'So tell me – what are his concerns?'
Reshaja sighed. 'I was going to tell you in the morning. His Excellency would dearly like to assist an influential ally like Sharma.'
'Ah! So you didn't know what's in the letter -- but the governor knew all along?'
Reshaja shifted uncomfortably and dropped his eyes. He muttered, 'The governor is in an important man. We shouldn't be surprised if he knows things that ordinary people don't.'
'God, Reshaja, this is a set-up, isn't it?'
Reshaja still wouldn't look me in the eye. He murmured, 'I can only repeat what I have heard.'
For a moment, I was so angry that I wanted to shake Reshaja so hard that his teeth rattled in his gums. Then I got a grip on myself. After all, Reshaja was only the messenger. I asked, 'And if I refuse to comply with Sharma's request?'
Reshaja sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. He leaded, 'Oh, my friend, don't do that. By all means, do consider His Excellency's feelings.'
'By Zabrazal, you are acting as the governor's spokesman, aren't you?'
'No, my friend, I am not. I just happen to have an insight into his feelings.'
'And why should you have these insights into the governor's concerns?'
Reshaja sighed even more deeply and rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Come now, my friend, you've lived here long enough to know what my people are like. A person in authority never likes to disappoint a person who depends on him. So--' Reshaja shrugged. 'So, in this case, I'm telling you what I think His Excellency might like you to hear. You understand, don't you?' He spread his hands and said pleadingly, 'It would be kind to the governor if you would consider his feelings.'
'I want to hear it from the governor in person.'
'You can try, my friend. But His Excellency might not want to see you – out of consideration for your feelings, of course.'
I sat down, feeling weary and beaten. My mouth was dry with the taste of frustration. Worse still, Keirine with all its concerns was roaring back at me like a storm that had come from nowhere and now battered my senses. I asked despondently, 'Why does Sharma need me, anyway?'
'I heard that the soldiers who defected to Bedaxili killed Sharma's army commander and both of his deputy commanders. I would think that's why he needs you.'
'Isowola, Admera and Izedrali are dead? All three of them?' It was a shock. I knew all of them well. Reshaja nodded in confirmation.
Next morning, I went down to the governor's palace and asked to see him. After a few minutes, his aide came back and told me that the governor was indisposed. However, he referred me to Reshaja who, said the aide, was privy to the governor's thoughts. When I insisted on seeing the governor, the aide took my arm firmly and led me to the door, saying, 'Oh, my dear sir, why don't you board a ship and go home for a while? His Excellency knows that you have business there and he doesn't want to delay you a moment longer than is necessary.' Still grasping my arm, the man walked me out of the door. There he bowed and said, 'His Excellency sends you his most respectful felicitations and assures you that he will be delighted to see you when you have completed your business in Keirine.'
When I reached Koraina I was granted an audience with Sharma almost immediately. For a moment, I hardly recognised him. He had changed so much that he looked like a derelict ruin of the man that I once knew. He was paunchy – bloated with heaviness, in fact – and he had puffy eyes and a double chin. In fact, his whole face seemed to have receded downwards like part of a mountainside that has begun to slide after heavy rains. Also, he not only walked with a heavy limp, leaning on a walking stick, but with each step he had to heave himself forward awkwardly as if the air itself obstructed his passage.
Sharma greeted me in a business-like manner as if we had only been parted for a few days. He gave me a perfunctory embrace and showed me to a chair. As he sat down, he winced as he lifted his gammy leg onto a footstool. He settled back and said sourly, 'This rotten leg! It won't get better.' He winced again and shifted, rubbing one of his buttocks as it lifted off the chair. 'The doctors say it's gout, caused by too much red wine. Ha! Wine never did any harm, especially the good stuff that I get from Durgenu.' He waved his stick around, gesticulating at the walls and ceiling. 'More likely it's living in this draughty building. I never should have allowed the architects to put in so much marble and masonry.' Sharma settled back with a noise between a sigh and a groan, rubbed his chin as if he was trying to dislodge his jowls from their moorings, and eyed me warily. The eyes were still Sharma's even if the rest of his body had fallen from its state of youthful grace. He asked stiffly, 'How are you, Jina?'
'I'm all right.'
'Good to be back, eh?'
'Oh, I could easily have stayed away a while longer.'
There was a pause while we looked at each other appraisingly. Sharma rubbed his chin again and dropped his eyes. Then he grunted, looked me straight in the eye, and said, 'I need you, Jina. More than that, Keirine needs you.' I grunted in return. Sharma pursed his lips and shifted uncomfortably. He said, 'I apologise, Jina.'
'For what?'
'I apologise for what I said the last time I saw you.'
'Forget about it. It's over and done with.'
Sharma shifted again and coughed. He said, 'I acted like Vaxili, didn't I?' I raised my eyebrows. Sharma continued, 'You told me frankly what you felt.'
'Yes. I did.'
'Vaxili never could abide frank speaking.'
'That's true.'
Sharma shifted again and rubbed a buttock. He said, 'You were honest with me.'
'Look, Sharma, it's over and done with. Let's forget about it.'
Sharma bit his lip and his eyelid twitched. He took a deep breath and said, 'Jina, this isn't easy for me.' I raised my eyebrows. Sharma continued, 'Damn it, man, I'm trying to apologise to you.'
Suddenly I felt like grinning as I glimpsed something of the old Sharma. Whatever his faults, in the old days Sharma had spoken to me frankly – most of the time, anyway. I said, 'I accept your apology.'
Sharma wriggled in his chair to
get comfortable and repositioned his leg on the footstool. 'Do you, Jina?' I nodded. Sharma threw back his head, waggled it as if his neck was stiff, and said, 'That's good. Mending fences, eh?'
Mending fences? That wasn't the most suitable image to use. The fact was that I was aware of how many fences there were between us. They would always be there in spite of Sharma's apology. I shrugged the thought away and asked, 'Did you bring me here just to apologise?'
Sharma took another deep breath and then replied in a tight voice, 'It had to be said first, didn't it?' I nodded and Sharma said, 'You know very well why I asked you to come here.'
'Asked? You asked me, did you? Well, man, let me tell you that I had no choice. They ordered me out of Terfillere and practically frog-marched me onto a ship. You call that being asked to do something?'
Sharma stretched his hands above his head and flexed his shoulders, looking tired. He pleaded, 'I need you, Jina,'
'Why?'
'Because I can trust you.'
For a moment I felt like taunting him. Trust, eh? What about all your generals and all your governors, Sharma? What about your women and your many children, Sharma? What about your sons – yes, Sharma, what about your sons? I looked at the flabby shell that was sitting in front of me, shifting his lame leg uncomfortably and rubbing his jowls and I pitied him. I remembered the old Sharma – the brave, quick, and generous friend and comrade, the comet that had blazed its bright path through our lives and through the destiny of Keirine. Oh, the memories and emotions were all out of their lairs now. They were flooding all over me. Damn, damn, damn! I bit back my taunts and asked, 'Trust me? What of it?'
'I need you, Jina. Who else can I really trust?' I put up a hand to halt him while I got a grip on myself but Sharma continued, 'You always put the destiny of Keirine first, didn't you? You always drove straight for it without allowing yourself to be diverted, didn't you?'
I muttered, 'I did, once.'
'Do you know, Jina, you're the nearest that I've ever come to an honest man.'
'I doubt that. For one thing, the service of Keirine has corrupted my honesty.'
Sharma's eyes flickered but he ignored my words. He leaned forward and asked persuasively, 'Do you remember how as boys we sat on the hills and looked over the coastal plain while --?'
'Stop it, Sharma! No more!' There was a deep silence. Sharma reached into a drawer in the cabinet next to him and held something up for me to see. It was a sling. Sharma asked, 'Do you remember this?' I nodded. Still holding it up, he said, 'It's the same old sling, Jina.' He heaved himself out of the chair and, supported by a stick, waddled across to a large dresser. There he took out a number of small wooden objects -- the same targets that we used for slingshot practice while we sat around in the evenings drinking wine and chatting companionably. Sharma draped a cloth over the dresser, set up the targets, and heaved himself back towards me. He took some pebbles out of a pouch and gave them to me, saying, 'Have a go, Jina.'
'I don't feel like it, Sharma.'
'Please, Jina, for old time's sake?'
I surprised myself by hitting four out of the seven targets. Sharma grunted and said, 'Watch this, Jina.' He whirled the sling and let fly. Plink! The pebble hit the wall leaving the targets unscathed. He let fly again with the same result. Finally, after eight attempts, he had hit only two targets. Sharma said gruffly, 'You see how it is with me, Jina.'
'Oh, come on Sharma, you’re just faking it.'
He looked at me heavily and muttered, 'I assure you that I am not.'
'I don't believe you.'
'By Zabrazal, I can't do it any more, Jina. Don't you see – I can't do it.' Sharma slumped into his chair. 'I can't do it, Jina. That’s the truth.'
I looked at him, pitying rather than despising his despondent and fallen state. I picked up the sling, took aim, and sent one of the targets whirling. Then I said, 'All right, I'll do it. Just don't ask anything more of me. When it's over, I will be free to go back to the islands. Agreed?'
Sharma sighed as if he had been relieved of a great weight. He leaned further forward and, with both hands clasping the carved head of his stick, said, 'Don't harm the boy, Jina. He's my oldest son and he’s my heir. Whatever happens, don't harm him.'
‘What if he resists?’
‘Whatever you do, don’t harm him, Jina. He has to be the next king of Keirine. Anything else will bring chaos.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THINGS OF OUR OWN MAKING
Keirine was in turmoil. Bedaxili had only articulated and exploited the dissatisfaction that was already widespread by the time he came out into the open. People were tired of paying taxes that were spent on grandiose projects rather than on benefits for the public. They were tired of paying for extensions to the palace, a royal villa at the coast, clothing and jewelry for Sharma's wives and children, and triumphal cavalcades that accompanied Sharma wherever he went. They were tired of their young men being rounded up for forced labour gangs, to serve for two years in convict-like conditions. And such is the human desire for novelty, they were probably tired of the tedium of stability and security – or, at the least, they had forgotten what the alternative was like. Under the circumstances, Bedaxili offered something new and attractive. He was a handsome populist who sat in town squares and spoke to ordinary people, making promises of reductions in taxes, an end to forced labour, and the sweeping away of the old guard who surrounded Sharma. The priests added credibility to Bedaxili's campaign by coming out in support of him. Isahile, the High Priest-elect, stayed out of the fray but a number of his colleagues accompanied Bedaxili's cavalcade, proclaiming that Zabrazal approved of this flamboyant young man who, amongst his many promises, assured the priests that their authority and privileges would be restored.
However, Bedaxili played his hand too soon. He didn't know – or, in his eagerness for power, he didn't want to know – that there is a big difference between leading a populist movement and leading an army. He also made the mistake of thinking that the junior officers who clustered around him, eager for swift advancement, had the experience and the knowledge to organise a campaign and lead an army to victory. Ha! Their ambition had no more substance to it than the self-aggrandisement of a peacock that promenades and thinks well of itself until the eagle swoops. Then the peacock finds that its strutting pride, pomp, and fine feathers are torn to shreds within seconds. That's what happened to Bedaxili's army when we finally closed on it.
Thank Zabrazal, Sharma still had an army. The most senior commanders were dead and some of the middle-ranking officers had joined Bedaxili but he still had a core of officers and soldiers who had served Keirine well during the past twenty-five years. In the present crisis, they had been ineffective not because they lacked the capacity to act but because Sharma didn't have the heart to act against his treasured son.
It took me three weeks to sort things out. During that time, we sent a small force against Bedaxili's army. They were instructed only to feint and withdraw so that Bedaxili would gain confidence and become careless. To aggravate Bedaxili's delusions, as he advanced ever closer to Koraina we steadily evacuated the town. First Sharma and his court retired northwards. Next, units of the army also retreated. The civilian population, ignorant of what we were planning, began to panic and many of them also left Koraina. Their hasty evacuation suited our purpose and we didn’t try to stop them. Finally, when Bedaxili was within two days' march of Koraina, we offered ridiculously generous peace terms that were intended to suggest that we were weak and panic-stricken. However, in the midst of the negotiations we struck at Bedaxili's force using the same tactics that Sharma employed when we defeated Vaxili in the desert foothills. Just as on that occasion, after we had slaughtered or dispersed most of the enemy army in a night attack, next morning we had to deal with a hard core of survivors who gathered around their chief for a last stand. When they surrendered after two hours of hard fighting, all resistance came to an end. The rebellion was over.
When they brought Bedaxili
to me, it was a shock to see how much he looked like his mother, just as he did when I first saw him as a youngster in Orihedrin. Even although he was disheveled and frightened, I could see why they praised his good looks and attractiveness. Outwardly, he had a manly bearing and the same fresh and open countenance that I remembered from his younger days. But – pha! – what do these things count if the character is weak and the heart is corrupt?
Bedaxili disgusted me. He had not only threatened the stability of his country but, to compound the offence, he had violated his siblings and had revolted against his father. I had to fight down the urge to strike him when I told him, 'You will be taken to Koraina where you will be dealt with as you deserve.' Privately, I thought with deep regret that, in actual fact, he wouldn’t be dealt with in anything like the manner that he deserved. He would probably only be wept over in maudlin fashion, rapped on the knuckles, and then set free with a fond pat on the head to continue on his dissolute, corrupt, conniving way.
It seemed that Bedaxili had most of the faults and weaknesses of his grandfather without having Vaxili’s one notable virtue, namely personal courage. Bedaxili was cringing and shaking with fear. He stammered, 'May I speak to you privately?'
'No, you may not! If you want to say something, say it right here.'
Sniveling, Bedaxili looked around and then leaned forward and said in a mumbling attempt at confidentiality, 'If you release me, I can offer you wealth and a good position.'
‘Oh, you can make offers like that, can you?’
‘Of course! I’m the king’s oldest son and I’m heir to the throne.’
'All the more reason why I won’t release you! In fact, I wouldn't release you if you offered me ten kingdoms.'
Bedaxili dropped to his knees and shuffled forward until he was right at my feet. 'I beg you – have pity on me.' He was sobbing.
I looked down at the pathetic creature at my feet, took a step backward to prevent him from touching me, and asked, 'Why should I pity you?'
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