"Those there. If I say: "Do not pour any wine for yourself from my vessel." That takes no true thought. Do you have to think about it?"
"No."
"But if I say: "You may have some of my wine." Now you have to think. Here is where your conscious comes in, Rapheth. Here is a full ewer of wine. Now, what is a drink? Does that "you" mean one person or is that "you" in general? See? Sustained thought. Do I mean one cup or do I mean as many cups of wine as you desire? Is it too much? Now if you pour too many cups and I come in here and find you are drunk, then I have to make a law for you, because you have shown that you cannot use good judgment, that you cannot work on principle. You are not discerning the meaning and the depth to which you might sink to without a stern rule. It would mean you are too young, inexperienced, unlearned or unruly when it comes to principles and isn't that what we must do with little ones, Rapheth?" Raptheth nodded.
"As a child grows older you would hope that child can learn to be governed by principles, as he matures. I am sure Ilim hopes this for you. You make him proud. He has told me that."
"He did?" Parso nodded.
"The danger in law is that it makes life too easy, so that you stop thinking. And there are many who are more than happy to oblige you and make thousands of laws for you but if those men themselves are not governed by principles, where will they take you with their laws? Principles are broad but they have within them room to work and live within, as long as you do not get down to the point where the law will have its consequences." He pointed to the triangle on the paper. "There is a point in all this, Rapheth. I tell you these things because one day you will rule the kingdom." Rapheth was astonished at Parso's words.
"But what about feelings in all this talk of law and principle? Is that all there is?" He finally asked.
"Well, of course not. You have to have some feelings or passions. When one is passionate for what is right it is called zeal. The Ainash have lost not only their ability to discern principles but they have lost their passion, their zeal for sacredness. They have made God into a loveless ogre who only cares for His exacting Law. They have reduced the First Pillar to something cold and cruel like themselves, because they are driven by hard laws without principles."
"Well, on the outside they follow the Law but so many laws they break and ignore with impunity. God forbid if the common people break them though. Unless it is a law that they deem beneficial to themselves."
"Of course and that, as you, see is the problem. Laws without principles mean nothing. And both without passion for them will fail. But I stress principles before law or passion for that is what is highest, from which everything beneficial springs. Without them is a void of emptiness in which any wickedness and cruelty can spring. Let me explain it another way. If you are alone without the community around you to help bolster you and your resolve, how will you live? What about anger? You first break the principle in how you think about another man? What if he offends you? What goes through your mind? Do you immediately want to kill him? What if it is a man different from you with different ways? You must not murder. That is law. But the principle is that anyone who keeps on being wrathful or hateful secretly of a man is wrong. That is why killing is so easy in this world, because a man can be reduced to nothing, to an animal. The principle of respect for a man's life is violated. We do not want to be ruled primarily by law like the Ainash or primarily by passion as others without law because it can get us into trouble every time. Learn to discern the pattern, for when you are without the written law you will already have it written in your heart and when someone comes along to confuse you or a situation arises that stresses you, when you are without law you will be motivated by something higher, something sterling and you will never go wrong. When you discern the pattern, when you are a king, Rapheth and if God is willing you shall be a king, when you do not have the writings in front of you to guide you, the principles you have bound yourself to that come from Above will guide you. That is why principles are superior to absolute laws. They require using your heart as well as your mind and those under you will prosper and you yourself will prosper under the First Pillar. The whole creation of God is based upon fundamental principles, whether it is living or inanimate, First Laws. Learn the pattern in the writings and you will know what comes next, you will know what to do in any situation. You will know the mind of God. Others resort to sorcery or magic but with God no magic is involved, no incantations. You will simply know. That is what is missing in kings and queens in our time, and in priests as well. Be driven by something more elevated than passion or law itself." Rapheth looked at him in wonder. He was silent for a long time, thinking.
"How long will you stay?"
"I do not know. I suppose having made a big production of men who love to hear themselves talk, I have shown myself to be one of those men. Are you ready for me to leave already?" He laughed merrily. There was the delicate sound of a chime downstairs.
"Certainly not!"
"I hear Zigal calling. It sounds like the evening meal is served. And I love to eat as much as I love to talk." Said Parso. Rapheth smiled. Parso, it seemed, was just as philosophical as Injep. This was going to be a very interesting summer.
. . .
Later that night Rapheth, Ephron and Shukala lay upon the roof, it being their custom. Shukala and Ephron were talking but Rapheth barely heard them, thinking upon all that he had heard and spoken to Parso about while gazing up at the violet sky. A beetle, its beautiful iridescent body shimmering in the dark, crawled over his stomach and went on its way. He turned to his friends.
"If you were to become king, what would be the most important quality in a man of your court?" They were silent for a while. Then Ephron spoke up first.
"A man's honor and glory; for his family, his kin and for himself. That is the greatest quality in a man. His very honor is himself, his pride and valor bound up with it. It is the superlative thing. Honor. What do you think?"
"I think you are right. Valor, pride and honor are necessary, I think. I must admit that I do not see such things. Only read about them in the legends. What do you say, Shukala?" Asked Rapheth.
"I would say honor is a grand thing but what is honor or valor or anything without order and law? I see such things breaking down. I would seek to bring justice to those who suffer and to bring unruly and corrupt ones the taste of much needed correction. After that is done, then we can have honor and valor."
"Yes, those are important too. The business of justice and respect for law. But is there anything else?"
"What else does one need?" Asked Shukala.
"Well, Shukala, what are laws? What would you base them upon?" Shukala stared at him as if he had gone mad.
"The Holy Aishanna, of course! It is what it is! What need you to question anything or ask? Just follow it. It has been written down for us today. There is no need to even think upon it. Those who think too hard, I perceive, look for some reason to bypass it or even to subvert it. That is what my father says and he is always right." Shukala said with finality.
"Hmmm." Said Rapheth.
"I too would say there is nothing else. But the glory of honor is greater than even law, for who remembers dry law? What man regales those of the law? He regales and writes down and retells the glories and valor of great men. When we sit down to hear a legend, a story or a momentous event, the accounts of the holy warriors of old, we do not care to hear law but of their feats, their glory and their honorable deeds, do we not? Those are the qualities that motivate men to strive for greatness, to be better than they are." Rapheth was quiet. Indeed, these things were good things to have but Parso had opened his eyes in a new way and perhaps what he would learn from Injep would impart even more knowledge to him. Please, Airend-Ur, if you listen to your servant, he thought silently, answer me. Which is the way? Am I really a king or is this just a fantasy by desperate people wanting escape from the serpent queen?
Chapter Eighteen
It was now early summer. He
could just feel the torment of the coming late summer months. High summer.
Having no real place to call his own, no house, no place in the world to shade him, he was adrift. He would make it, somehow, but he could not shake the bothersome feeling that he was merely drifting through his life. There was no war or battle to fight in and he would not fight for any Egian ruler for all the gold in the world. He hated them. He was working now and though Ilim and Zigal did not have much ladre to give him they provided bed and board in a decent enough place. It wasn't a palace but it wasn't a one-room hovel either. But he was now forty years and felt his life had amounted to - not much. He looked about him and even the servants and humble freemen had more to live for. They had purpose. He used to laugh at such people and despise them and it bothered him that this realization would not go away; it continued to torment him. Why should he care? He'd left the tribal ways long ago and he was not interested in going back to the harsh desert with all its rules and laws. He was a free man with no obligations. No parents to care for, no squabbling children to raise and feed, no wife haranguing him. And no damned purpose! Divine Purpose. He immediately blotted it from his mind. It was all nonsense to him. No purpose. There were the Desert Dragons, the mercenary group in the city who fought for gold, but they often fought for the highest bidder and often the highest bidders were the type of men he would rather kill. He did not fit in anywhere.
Rhajit had spent the night last night at an inn and with the alewife as well. He was relieved of sword instruction this day and had nothing to do. His head hurt from the especially strong date beer of this particular alehouse. Zigal's date beer was superior, actually, but one took what one could get. This was a far cry from his "Rhajit the Ram" days. How fleeting glory was. Now he was a faceless, nameless brigand. A good-for-nothing man for hire. Anything for hire.
He was feeling hungry and rose from bed and went back downstairs to the main room. The alewife was bustling about. She smiled.
"Beer?"
"Beer and some of that chicken dish." He said, nodding to what another patron was wolfing down at a table across from him.
"It comes with lentils and curry." She said.
"That is well." She nodded and made her way to the beer vat, dipped a huge bowl of beer into it and set it in front of him.
"As you say. It will be a few moments yet." He grunted and she left to attend the other patrons. Another woman was playing softly on a zither. After a time the alewife came out of the kitchen and set a plate of half a chicken smothered under spicy lentil stew and some hard flat bread. Rhajit dug in with his hands. The dish was oily and overcooked, not what he was used to at Zigal's but it was a feast, considering that he rarely had the ladre to eat this well every day. The stew was very thick and as he wolfed it down he took a big gulp of beer along with it. A shadow came across his line of vision, falling across the table and he heard someone come in behind him. Then another shadow. The two men stood silently over Rhajit. At first he tried ignoring them and continued eating.
"What is your name?" Asked one of the men. He could tell they were of the temple guards by their dress. Or rather, jumped-up minions. Hatchet Men. It grew steadily quieter in the tavern, though all the patrons pretended not to notice.
"What?" Rhajit said in annoyance, finally looking up at the men wondering what trouble he would find. He regretted he did not have his sword at his side. Fool! he thought. He rolled back in his seat and fixed a level gaze at them, licking his fingers loudly.
"What is your name?" Asked the first man again.
"Why do you want to know?"
"Do you question every man who is an authority? Do you know who we are? We are the temple guard. I asked you a question, man. Answer me or face trouble. What is your name?"
"How about you and your wife there go upstairs and have a good time and leave me to my meal?" He said. He knew instantly he was in trouble. At least things would get interesting. The other man went for his sword and immediately the tavern became a whir of explosive motion. With lightening speed Rhajit poured out his beer and broke the bowl upon the table, dove towards the man's legs knocking him off balance. He lifted the shard of bowl in his hand and stabbed the man's inner thigh. The shard went through his flesh, piercing through the skin on the underside of his thigh. The guard screamed in pain but the other man was upon Rhajit and he was stronger than Rhajit had imagined. He wrapped his large arms around Rhajit's neck, trying to strangle him. Rhajit turned and twisted under his hold, trying to break free. A hand went over his face and Rhajit clamped down hard on a finger, drawing an angry cry from the other guard. He heard other men pouring into the tavern and soon a pile of brigands had landed onto Rhajit and they dragged him out of the alehouse and began beating and kicking him. He grabbed hold of one man's leg and twisted it, hearing the bones crack. The man screamed out. Triumph! But there were too many. He could not get up.
"Stop! I said take him, not kill him, you fools!" Shouted an imperious voice from a veiled litter. Rhajit groaned quietly while laying in the dust. He knew his face would swell to grotesque proportions. Out in the glaring sun he could barely see anything.
"Bring him. He is as strong as an ox. We will have need of such a man." The rough hands of many men grabbed him up, in the middle of the street in high daylight. People gawked but said nothing.
"I am a free man! I have done nothing wrong! This is not Egi, you jumped-up dogs! You cannot do this to me! I am a free man!" Someone hit him in the head and he went unconscious.
When he came to, he found himself locked in a cell. The door was of strong wood and iron with a small iron grate in it. He lay on a stinking reed mattress and there was a small torch high up in a sconce on the wall. The room was round from what he could tell from the shadows cast by the dim light. He could hear the pattering of what sounded like a rodent somewhere in the dark. The room smelled strong of urine and waste. He wanted to vomit. Well, things had changed now. And he now wished he had not thought so casually of wanting something interesting to happen. A man who drops his weapon or his attention is a dead man. He wanted to laugh at his present circumstances but he was too angry and miserable. At least he wasn't dead, yet. He heard a door creak open and footsteps coming. His stomach churned in a pit. What in the red world had happened? What had he done to deserve this? His head was pounding in pain and he could feel his face was so swollen it felt like a giant black truska melon had sprouted from it. Blood was caked on his face, running from his nose. He struggled to sit up. His ribs hurt but he steeled himself and forced himself up. Three men walked into his cell. The gaoler, long metal keys dangling at his side, was a stooped, humpbacked frog-like man with bugged eyes that looked strangely iridescent in the dimness. He carried a large torch. The other man shocked Rhajit. He was a small giant, standing it seemed over seven feet tall and he was very broad, husky, even, and muscular. He had a bald head with the exception of a lock of long uncut hair on the side, braided. He was bare-chested and wore a short kilt in the new fashion of the Egians and he had two broad short swords, one on each side in sheaths in his belt and he wore large strapped leather sandals. When Rhajit peered closer, his eyes now used to the dim light, he saw that the man had four arms. The giant possessed an empty, dead look in his eyes.
"Great stars!" He muttered. Rhajit rolled back, slightly fearful, and then looked at the third man. He was tall himself and dressed in a rich tunic of scarlet and white with a robe of long fringes tied to his waist with a silken white belt, gold sandals and a cloak over that in scarlet and a turban and mantle over his head. His beard was long and luxurious, styled in coiffed waves and he wore a large medallion of coral and gold around his neck. Bands of gold were wrapped around his left arm. He gazed at Rhajit coolly, a sneer slowly sliding across his face. He was an Ainash priest.
"Hello, Rhajit the Ram." Said the priest.
"How did you. . .who are you?"
"I am sorry we had to meet like this. This one here, he is my bodyguard. A strange looking man, I admit."
"I think you will find more men like this in the coming years. Egi is higher in culture and progress than Hybron. I have come to appreciate that fact. What is born in Egi will also come to this land. The Changed Men, they are called. Built and created for special purposes. This one is only one of many. They are like the tinkering devices, you know. Anyway, I did not come here to explain the tide of cultural change to a common man. I came here because there is a sacred edict in the land, from city to city. The Golden Temple wants strong men, like you, to join up with us. Every temple of the Aishanna-La needs its protectors, its mighty men. The Golden Temple guardians are the greatest and receive the most benefits. Lands, houses, women, position and power. We need men to protect the temple and the faith of the land from foreign influence and foreign gods we do not find beneficial. And from schismatics." Rhajit bristled, remembering the situation that landed him in the prison at the stadium arena in Jhis years ago. This was one of the men. His heart hardened. He would never help this man.
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