Across The Lake

by Doug Kelly

  Aton rudely cleared his throat to capture Lanzo’s attention. Only then did Lanzo turn around, stand up, and see Aton, white and trembling. Briand stood behind his best friend.

  “Well, now!” Lanzo exclaimed, with the benevolent courtesy that usually distinguished his greeting from the trite politeness of social convention. “Here is a fellow clansman, having a delightful time, I’m sure! Good evening, Aton.” Lanzo, so utterly in command of himself, wore an expression of the utmost cordiality, albeit fake. He was a wonderful actor, a skill well suited for those with political ambitions. It was in the moment of silence before Aton responded that he realized something dreadful was about to take place.

  “I have not come to exchange hypocritical courtesies or pretensions of friendship,” Aton announced. “I have come to ask you for an explanation, Lanzo.” His angry voice had emerged from between his clenched teeth.

  “Explanation? At our warlord’s spring festival?” asked Lanzo with his calm voice and penetrating gaze, two signs that infallibly indicate a man who is utterly sure of himself. “Unfamiliar as I am with your manners, Aton, I do not think that this is where I go to explain myself.”

  “What are your intentions with Esina?” Aton retorted.

  “I do not have to answer to anyone such as you.” Then Lanzo lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Aton in a most disrespectful way. His entourage giggled at the pose.

  As they quarreled and exchanged words, Aton raised his voice so that everyone in the room could hear him. At the sound of the argument, the audience turned around, and those passing along the corridor stopped behind Briand.

  “Who do you think you are, Aton?” Lanzo asked, without giving the slightest appearance of any emotion. “You do not appear to be in your right mind.”

  “I am sensible enough,” replied Aton furiously. “I don’t care for you, and you shouldn’t be around Esina any longer. You are a dog.”

  “I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying,” Lanzo snapped. “Even if I did, you would still be saying it too loudly. I am a guest here, Aton, and you do not have the right to raise your voice at me, so kindly leave!” Lanzo showed him the hallway with a splendidly imperative gesture.

  “You forget. I am a guest here, too. Remember this, Esina’s family and mine have a history together. It will not be me leaving in a rush. Maybe it will be you leaving with a limp!” said Aton, convulsively twisting a glove in his hands, while Lanzo kept his eyes firmly fixed on it.

  “Very well, very well,” Lanzo said resignedly. “You want an argument with me, Aton, I can see that, but let me just give you one word of advice, and Aton, don’t forget this: it is a bad habit to shout it from the hilltops when you challenge a person. Especially a man of honor, like myself. Not everyone benefits from attracting attention.” He sat down, thinking that would defuse the argument and encourage Aton to leave.

  At the beginning of the quarrel, a murmur of astonishment passed like a shiver among all those who had been observing the scene, then it returned through the crowd like a crashing wave. Since the previous day, the name of Aton had been on everyone’s lips; rumors of jealousy, Esina, and Aton had spread like fire on dry tinder.

  Aton understood the implications if he were to walk away. Everyone would perceive him to be a coward; he needed to change his reputation. He threw his glove at Lanzo’s face. Briand, a moment too late, had grasped for Aton’s wrist, while two members of Lanzo’s entourage, fearing that the incident might develop into something more than a challenge, restrained him from behind. Lanzo, without getting up, tipped his chair back, reached out to snatch the crumpled glove from the floor, and passively tossed it back to him. Aton caught it with an angry hand.

  “If that was a challenge to me, consider it annulled,” said Lanzo. “I am a peaceful man, and my reputation precedes me at this festival. Can you say that, Aton? Now leave me or I will call the guards to throw you out.”

  “Lanzo,” Aton said in a terrifying voice, “Maybe next time I will send the tip of an arrow in your direction.”

  Lanzo’s face turned red. He stood. Horrified, wild-eyed, he took two steps back; his entourage enveloped him, and as one, moved away. In a far corner, Lanzo went back to his survey of the crowd, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The man had a heart as cold as stone. A trusted companion leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “What have you ever done to him?”

  Lanzo whispered back, “That is not the question, my good friend. What will I do to him?”

  “Are you referring to—?”

  Lanzo snapped a finger to his lips. “Silence. The walls have ears.” He pulled his confidante into a quiet corner, away from nosy guests, and whispered intently. He spoke softly, occasionally turning toward the thinning crowd and smiling casually, as if everything were normal. The man listening to Lanzo nodded with each hushed word, and grinned mischievously as his diabolical friend spoke. When Lanzo finished his diatribe, he slapped his attentive friend on the back and they both laughed sadistically. His cohort slinked away into the crowd and only turned back once to nod and wink at Lanzo just before the snake slithered away from the gathering.

  After the confrontation, Briand thought it best to distance himself from Aton. He had been honored to sit with Olar during the festival and he wondered if that might signal a new start for him and his clan. Although he still resented the way Olar had treated his family, he thought it best to leave for home. Because it was the last day, they would not consider his absence rude, so he bid Aton farewell and suggested that he leave, too. He told Aton that he was proud of him and that he stood his ground like a brave soldier. They grasped forearms and Briand went to the stable to get his horse.

  It was dusk; the sun was low in the horizon. In the east, the moon had risen over a dark canopy of trees. As if in a dream, troubled by the evening’s events, Briand walked to the stable to get his horse. The servants told him that it was better not to travel through the forest at night, but he was determined, so he did not stop. As he began to trot away, they sprinted beside him to the barrier, advising him as they ran to keep the sword by his side, and most of all, not to go slowly. Bandits in the night would know the fact that so many wealthy persons had assembled at the estate for the feast. As he rode from the barrier, they watched him go up the trail and saw him disappear under the canopy of the forest’s dark trees.

  To Aton, the ceaseless interest the people took in the annual festivities of springtime seemed strange to him. It did not thrill him in the least and he could turn his back on it without hesitation. He would have left the crowd and spent the day in the forest or in the hills, but he could not leave Esina. He wanted to be near her; he wanted to see her in spite of his misery. As the day was ending, he feared that he would not get to speak with her, but he could not prolong his stay beyond the sunset. With few exceptions, most had already begun preparing to leave. It would be against etiquette to remain longer, unless specially invited, and Esina’s family had not extended a special invitation for that night. Yet he lingered, and lingered.

  His horse was ready. The guards had returned his bow and quiver of arrows to a saddlebag on his horse. The stable slave, weary of holding the reins, left after tying them to a wooden post in the yard. The sun was low on the horizon, and the shadow of the trees in the forest began to descend the grassy slope. He remained there, restlessly moving outside the house, with an unpleasant feeling that the servants looked at him curiously and were watching him. He did not recognize some of them and thought it was strange to see these new faces at a place he had frequented.

  In the house again, and forced by the passage of time, he went to say goodbye to Nessa. He briefly wondered if he might have to explain his actions that evening with Lanzo. He supposed she would understand and he hoped Olar had been too intoxicated to have heard or comprehended the rumors of what had happened between Lanzo and him. He went, step after step, down the hallway, as a condemned person goes to his doom. He walked slowly, anything to delay his de
parture. When he reached the door, a close friend of Esina's who had been waiting there for the opportunity, brushed past him and whispered, “Meet her at the stables.”

  Without a word, he turned and hurried away, ran through the yard and headed back outside, where his horse was already waiting. He stopped close to the stables, to observe them from a safe distance away, to look around for Esina, but she was not there. Disappointed, he continued to look around; she still did not come, but to Aton’s surprise, her sister did.

  The sister, Malina, was slightly younger, but they might as well have been twins because of the similarities of their physical appearance and mannerisms. Malina took his arm and led him closer to the stables. On a large tree stump, they sat down without a word for a few moments.

  “She misses you.”

  His jealousy, fueled by his injured self-esteem, erupted from the depths of his soul.

  “That’s a lie!”

  In a sympathetic gesture, she placed her hand upon his shoulder. He remained stoic.

  “She loves you.”

  He pushed her hand away.

  “I am not the heir to a man of wealth,” said Aton, in an angry tone, “and I do not ride with an entourage of rude and unpleasant men who believe they are so much better than everyone else. Their rudeness precedes them wherever they are. Did he promise her a purse full of gold, Malina?”

  “Aton!”

  “She doesn’t love me!”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then why has she been with Lanzo the whole time?” he asked, in a tone that expressed utter disbelief.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “Am I to guess at riddles tonight?” Aton stood as if he had sat on a tack and threw his hands high in the air.

  “Aton, you don’t understand. It’s because of our father—”

  “I don’t want to hear about your father.”

  “Just listen to me, please.”

  “She must be happy with her engagement to Lanzo.”

  “Aton, there’s no such thing. What has come over you? Sit down!” Her soft hand grabbed his arm and he melted at her gentle touch. Thinking of Esina, he was like a moth, hypnotized by a flame.

  “You carry her heart in your pocket. Don’t you realize this?”

  “I said no more riddles.”

  “You haven’t looked inside your pouch of silver coins that you won at the archery competition, have you?”

  “Why should I? Five silver coins aren’t going to change my fortune.”

  “Oh, Aton. It’s not the coins I’m referring to. Please, open it up and you’ll see what I mean.”

  Aton removed the purse from his pocket, untied the knot and opened the leather pouch, spilling the contents onto his hand. Five silver coins and a hand-written note on a strip of parchment fell out. Even in the dim light, the penmanship was indisputably Esina’s handwriting.

  Before the archery contest, knowing that Aton was going to enter it, she had placed a note in the prize purse for the winner to read, intending the note for Aton, because she had already known that he would undoubtedly be the winner. She had written, I have always believed in you. With all my love, Esina.

  Aton’s knees dropped to the ground. “She does love me.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Aton rose from the ground and sat beside Malina on the tree stump. She whispered to him, assuring him that Esina’s love was his and only his. She told him that Esina’s distance was not her fault and that a little while before the feast their father had suddenly broken into a drunken rage, one like they had never seen before. The cause of his fury was the growing discontent among the united clans under his rule.

  He had warned her that if there were a single sign of interest or attention toward Aton in the presence of the guests, he would order Aton to leave and cancel their long generational friendship between their families, no matter what the consequence. It was clear that he desired a wealthy and powerful alliance for his older daughter. Maybe he also selfishly desired relief from the debts he had acquired through foolish spending and unprofitable wars. Always a man searching for a profit, he thought he might find money in aligning his family with one of great influence and riches. He had his eyes set on Lanzo and knew that nothing would repel a man faster than a rumor that the woman was already committed to another relationship. In short, he made it a condition that for him to tolerate Aton's presence at all, Esina must carefully abstain from showing the slightest attention to him. She should ignore his existence.

  In her father’s presence, she could not prevent Lanzo following her without an obvious refusal of his companionship, a refusal that would most certainly have brought about her father’s rage, which ale, mead, and expensive wine had intensified. She thought it better, under the circumstances, to preserve peace rather than ostracize Aton. The explanation abated Aton’s rage and sense of humiliation, so he began to calm down. He had expected no better from her father.

  It was not so much the explanation itself that calmed Aton, as much as the realization that her love was for him. That insight had brought him to his senses. The influence of Esina’s unwavering nature, of her clear, broad, straightforward view of things, the depth of her character, and her unselfish motives, all put together, supplied that which was absent in himself. Those flaws were his indecision and his too impressionable disposition, which checked and stayed the force of his talents and counteracted the determination of a naturally strong spirit. He knew he was too quick to anger; her presence alone could soften the hard metal of his rage. If she had been by his side tonight at the gallery of clan singers, he knew all too well that he would have been in pleasant spirits and the confrontation with Lanzo would never have happened. The fact remained that it had happened, and quiet whispers brought Esina the news of the skirmish while she hid in her room, away from that vile man. While Olar was inebriated, she no longer had to stay by Lanzo’s side to impress her father. Although Lanzo’s absence offered her a reprieve from being in his company, she still could not publicly acknowledge Aton. Upon hearing the sad news of the confrontation, Esina said a prayer to her favorite god for Aton and sent her sister in search of him to convey the reassurance of her eternal love for the only man she adored.

  —— —— ——

  Esina had learned her faith from childhood. She prayed in times of need; it was a tradition from her mother’s side of the family. The people of the glade wandered without a god; the nomads revered the full moon; the hill people worshipped the natural world and were deeply superstitious. Most people derided all faiths, and believed in gold alone. Cruelty reigned everywhere, and as for mercy, there was none.

  Recently her father had ignored their ancestral faith of sun worship, leaning toward whatever was popular with the ranking class. If he had acted otherwise, it would have been awkward at social venues, but Esina, learning her faith from her mother at such a young age, had become too deeply infused with it to change her religious convictions. Therefore, as she grew up, it became a passion.

  Esina had the sun temple in the village, which had fallen to decay, repaired at her request. Religious men commenced services again, and she had attracted as many followers as possible to those sermons. She had the traditions of her faith transcribed for all to see and for her to share, but the religious literature had no influence with the illiterate.

  Throughout many generations of different clans, the history of religious beliefs was long and varied, with theories, rules, and a variety of countless ceremonies just as diverse. Clerics had designed these rituals to appease and entreat any number of gods, who resided across the world from the depths of the ocean to the heavens above. Gods came and went, usually at the whims of conquering armies and the desires of the ruling families. When a warlord had been overthrown or an army defeated, the idols and statues of their gods became worthless and were lost to the ash heap of history. As the transitory deities disappeared with the ephemeral warlords and armies that enforced their worship, the sun, moon, and st
ars remained predictable and seemed to have a purpose. The sun rose and set faithfully every day, and brought light and warmth with its presence, and its regular course defined spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Throughout the year, the phases of the moon helped divide time within the seasons. During long dark nights, gullible minds turned toward the night sky looking for a benevolent deity, and they saw anthropomorphic constellations swimming in the sea of twinkling stars.

  Over a great number of years, the surviving lineage of humans had not simply observed the movements of the celestial bodies; they had personified them and created stories about them, too. Out of that polytheistic, astrological atmosphere came theological myths that had transitioned into a variety of religious beliefs. Over time, religion had personified solar deities, putting a face on each divine incarnation that was biased, only portraying male gods of a particular ethnicity. The result was that over centuries, humankind utterly divided among themselves because of competing religions and consequently, budding civilizations disconnected from peaceful coexistence, such that it stood on the edge of a chaos-filled chasm, delicately balanced, but poised to fall.

  Clan superstitions had embraced polytheism on its way to a singular deity. The sun itself became the face of the divine. Thus, Esina’s religion had been born after credulous persons conceived it with their sun-gazing imaginations. Monotheistic worship of a solar deity had arrived, created and shored up by fraud, force, and based on countless generations of observing the movements and relationships of the celestial bodies and the earth, one of the favorites of which was, understandably, the sun. In fact, it was so popular that many people had identified the sun as the supreme deity. For them, the venerable sun was the creator of light, life, and the totality of the cosmos. With its unblinking, all-seeing eye, it was the stern guarantor of justice. With the almost universal connection of light with enlightenment or illumination, the sun was the source of wisdom. Divine sovereignty, powers of benevolence, justice, and wisdom, were all qualities central to Esina’s elite religious group, and it was within those contexts that she embraced a highly developed solar ideology. It was such a powerful belief that some warlords reigned because of the power of the sun and claimed their families had descended from it, which had unquestionably allowed them to rule by divine right.