'For my mother's sake – I beg you, have pity for her sake.' He lunged forward, grasped my ankles, and pressed his forehead against my feet. I tried to shake him off but he was clinging to me like a drowning swimmer.
I asked in disgust, 'Should I pity you in the same way as you pitied your sister, your brother, and your father?'
'I regret what I have done. I apologise. I beg you – have pity on me!'
I managed to shake one of my feet free and kicked him so hard that he sprawled backwards. As he lay there on his back in the dust trembling and sniveling, I pressed my sword to his throat and asked, 'Do you admit that you are a scheming wretch who shouldn't even be allowed to carry the shit buckets from the poorest hovel in Keirine?'
'Yes. I admit it.'
'Do you admit that a wretch like you who rapes his sister, kills his brother, and betrays his father isn't fit to live?' I applied pressure to the sword.
'Yes. I admit it.' I pressed the sword harder into his throat and he screeched, 'Have pity, I beg you!'
One of my commanders whispered urgently, 'Have a care, general! We must return him to his father unharmed.'
Bedaxili wriggled to his knees and tried to crawl away. I struck him on the side of his head with the flat of my sword and he sprawled on the ground, screaming in fear and pain, clutching his forehead. Someone grasped my arm, saying, 'General! He must not be harmed.'
The writhing creature on the ground filled me with disgust, all the more so when I reflected that this flabby offal-bag was the heir to the throne of Keirine. Worse still, I knew that Sharma would forgive him. He would set Bedaxili free to rape, murder, plot and scheme again. Even although he complained about them, Sharma never could do the hard, proper thing when it came to dealing with his wives and children. God, more than ever, I wished that they had left me alone in peace amongst the islands. But now that I was here and was forced to deal with these matters, I would do Keirine a favour for old time's sake. I shook off the restraining hand, drew back my arm, and plunged my sword into Bedaxili's throat. He gurgled and toppled over. Someone wrestled the sword free from my hand and someone else seized my arms to prevent me from drawing my dagger. It didn't matter. Bedaxili was dead already. Whatever the future held for Keirine, he wouldn’t be there to contaminate it.
When we arrived in Koraina, Sharma refused to see me. In any case, he was in no state to see anyone at all. I heard that when he got the news that Bedaxili was dead, he let out a howl of anguish and dropped to the floor insensible. Then, when he recovered, he reeled around the palace calling down curses on me. After that, he staggered to the temple where he prostrated himself in front of the altar, tearing at his clothes and begging Zabrazal to withdraw his anger and to smile on his house at last. If Zabrazal was listening, he must have been grimly amused at the return of the apostate in this fashion. In between his supplications, Sharma continued to curse me. They say that he was so desperate and distracted that he repeatedly beat his forehead against the stone floor while, his clothes having been reduced to shreds, he tore at his flesh with his fingernails. When he finally collapsed after this self-indulgent outpouring of anger and remorse, his attendants had to half-carry and half-drag him from the temple to the palace and heave him into bed, where he laid moaning and shivering in a fevered, semi-conscious state.
That night I lay in my room cursing myself for a fool. In the longer run, what did it matter if I had shored up Sharma's position and had done away with a rotten apple like Bedaxili? What did one apple matter when the whole barrel was already thoroughly infected with the rot? There would be no end to the intrigues while Sharma's scheming wives were alive to encourage their scheming children. More than ever, I wished to the bottom of my heart that they had left me alone. I wished that instead of sailing from Terfillere to the mainland, I had bribed the captain of the ship to set me down amongst the furthest of the outer islands. From there, rather than return to Keirine, I would gladly have headed for the realms of weed-filled seas, icy winds, and eerie howls. Alone if necessary, I would have sailed as far as I could, following the clouds until I was becalmed forever or was lost in the endlessness of the Endless Ocean. Anything, anything at all, would have been better than returning to Keirine to open old wounds and to become enmeshed again in these intractable troubles and intrigues.
Before morning, I went down with a fever as severe as the one that afflicted me after the second battle of Gandonda. In my delirium, I repeatedly had the same dream of Dana as I had then. A blurred shape behind Dana restrained her as she called out and struggled to come to me. I cried out to her, 'You're safe now, Dana, you're safe. Come to me.' Then suddenly she was free. She ran towards me, one arm outstretched and one arm stretched across her throat but the more she ran, and the more I ran towards her, the more we remained apart. However, now the dream was overlaid by a vision of Bedaxili, who rose up between us flinging his head backwards to expose the gash in his throat and taunting me as he gestured to Dana, who remained as distant as ever. Then Dana flung her arm aside and threw back her head to expose her own wound and I felt myself sinking into a sea of clutching darkness even while I reached out to her.
When I regained a semblance of consciousness, I half-turned my head, expecting for a moment to see Zaliek sitting next to me. Instead I saw an old woman, one of the palace nurses, and I began to remember where I was. As my head became clearer, I cursed myself for a fool. After the nurse wiped my forehead, helped me to change my undershirt, and gave me some water, she muttered something and left the room. I heard the click of the latch as she locked the door behind her. Soon she returned with a junior commander of the palace guard. Stiffly, he informed me that I was confined to the room until further notice.
That was two days ago. They bring me food and water at regular intervals but will say nothing. My room, which is on the top floor of the palace, overlooks the great courtyard in the centre of the complex. From my window, I watch them coming and going – orderlies, soldiers, servants, merchants, and others. I have seen Shani twice, making her regal way across the paving stones. She looks more beautiful than ever. Being a royal consort suits her. She dresses resplendently in robes that enhance her slender form and set off her dark sultriness. On both occasions her two younger sons, Sharma's children, accompanied her. I wonder where her older son is, the boy that she had by Zaliek. Is he studying at the Academy of Philosophy in Orifinre as Zaliek wanted him to do? I doubt it, and I fear for him -- but I have no way of knowing where he is and what he is doing.
As I said at the beginning of this story, I did see Sharma recently when he limped and struggled across the courtyard, helped by two attendants. Halfway across, he paused to gather his breath, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow even although the day was cool. When he stumbled, both attendants had to exert their full strength to stop him from crashing to the ground. He never looked in my direction.
I know that I won't leave here alive. Sooner or later, Sharma will send them to attend to me. Damn him! Why didn't he leave me alone amongst the islands to serve out my time in peace and quiet? What did he say to me, the last time I spoke with him – that I'm the nearest he has come to an honest man? If that's what he really thought, then he should have known that honesty is incompatible with serving the destiny of the kingdom. Cleansing winds, pure air, and pleasant vistas might surround the heights of a mountain range -- but that is not the case with the heights of Keirine. As we struggled upwards, we accumulated dirt and grime along the way. We compromised ourselves, easing our consciences with the consolation that it was all for the good of the kingdom. One day, we said, we would reach the heights and would find them to be glorious and unsullied. Also, we told ourselves, when we reached our goal our old, soiled clothes would wither away and we would find ourselves dressed gloriously in fresh and gleaming garments. More than that, we ourselves would be completely made over, ennobled and re-invigorated as new creatures who would be fit to match the new circumstances. Pha! We were deluded fools. We didn't recognise –
perhaps chose not to know – that the heights of Keirine are things of our own making. That's all that they are – reflections of ourselves – nothing more and nothing less.
Yesterday I removed my belt, folded it, and sent it to Sharma. As I handed it to the attendant, I noticed that the old stain was still visible as a darker outline against the burnt sheen of the worn leather. I took the belt back from the man, looking closely at the stain, almost surprised to find it there after so long.
The attendant asked, ‘What is that, sir?’
I was about to say ‘Nothing of consequence’ when I thought, Why should he not know who he is dealing with? Why should he not know that once I, too, was one of the great ones of Keirine?
I asked him, ‘Do you remember Jainar?’
‘Jainar? No, sir, I can’t say that I do.’
I looked at him. God, he was young! Life hadn’t even yet curdled the corners of his mouth. How could he remember Jainar and the time when I served the kingdom well by leaving Jainar dead in the gateway of Orihedrin? I said, ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.’ I gave him the belt, saying, ‘Deliver this to the king.’
‘Any message with it, sir?’
‘None. The king will know what it means.’
This time, I know that Sharma will keep the belt – or, more likely, he will have it destroyed. Whatever the case, it won’t be returned to me. I know that for sure.
Who knows what awaits me when they have done with me? Perhaps at last I might be set free to drift with the clouds over the Endless Ocean, looking down on the islands set in the water like green and brown and ochre pearls in the neck-piece of a gown. Best of all, after all this time, I might be able to do it with Dana. Who knows?
THE END
Dear reader, if you enjoyed this book please spare a moment to show your appreciation by rating and reviewing it -- even if you only write a few lines. Writers want to be read, they like to have contact with their readers, and they like to know what their readers think about what they have written. So, please, do rate and review this book!
Something about the author, Brian H. Jones
Brian lives in a country town near Canberra, Australia, together with his adorable wife, Marie (author of Dangerous Journey), and their laid-back cat, Shaka. Having survived being born and raised in South Africa, Brian then lived and worked in Canada, Namibia, Pakistan, and Australia. Thanks to flashes of optimism on days when the sun is shining as well as Marie's ongoing influence, Brian believes that life holds more than political prevarication, economic and financial failures, moral mendacity and spiritual spuriousness. Sometimes he even thinks that writing is one of life's more elevated activities. And then, sometimes, he doesn't..!
You can find out more about Brian and books that he has written at http://bhj.scriptmania.com/index.html
Issues that could be useful for discussion at a book club meeting:
1. Does 'The Blood-stained Belt' have a clear theme or themes?
2. Does the theme (or themes) speak to contemporary life?
3. Does the novel remind you of any other(s) that you have read?
4. What are the strengths of the novel? How has the author achieved these strengths?
5. What are the weaknesses of the novel? How could they have been avoided or improved?
6. Is Jina a convincing and rounded character?
7. Which aspects of Jina's character and experiences did you find the most convincing?
8. Is Sharma a convincing and rounded character?
9. Which aspects of Sharma's character and experiences did you find the most/least convincing?
10. Has the long and complex relationship between Jina and Sharma been portrayed in a convincing manner? Could the portrayal have been improved?
11. If you wrote a review of 'The Blood-stained Belt', on which aspects would you focus and what would you say? (By the way, the author would very much appreciate reviews and ratings!)
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