The Sunbird

by Wilbur Smith

  Beyond the stone throne, of the oracle was concealed the entrance to the city archives cut into the rock, and beyond that again, guarded by a massive stone door and the curse of the gods, was the treasury and the tomb of the kings.

  Lannon paused beside the pool, and the priestesses came forward to meet him and escort him to the edge of the pool. Here they helped him to shed his armour and undergarments.

  He stood tall and naked, golden-headed and beautifully formed, at the head of the steps leading down into the green water. His body was finely muscled as that of a trained athlete, although there was heavy bunched muscle in the shoulders and neck, the mark of the swordsman. His belly and flanks, however, were lean with the shape of muscle beneath the skin but lightly stated. A gilding of red-gold hair ran down from his navel across the flat stomach to explode in a sunny burst of curls in the angle of his legs. The legs were shapely, long and moulded, and balanced his regal bulk easily.

  The High Priestess blessed him, and called down the goddess’s favour upon him. Then Lannon went down the steps and immersed himself in the sacred, life-giving water.

  While two young novices dried his body and dressed the king in robes of fresh linen, Huy Ben-Amon sang the praise chant to the goddess and when it ended all eyes looked up to the opening in the roof of the cavern high above the green pool.

  Lannon called out in a loud voice, ‘Astarte, mother of moon and earth, receive the messenger we send you - and hear our plea with favour.’

  The throng about the pool lifted their hands high in the sign of the sun, and at the signal the body of the sacrifice plunged from the slab that jutted into the opening in the grotto roof. The wail of the doomed soul echoed briefly about the cavern, until he struck the water and was dragged down swiftly into the green depths by the weight of the chains he wore.

  Lannon turned from the pool, and passed between the ranks of the priestesses into the entrance of the shrine. The audience chamber of the oracle was only a little larger than the living-room of a rich man’s house. The lamps burned with a steady light. The flames were tinted an unnatural greenish hue, and the incense of burning herbs was heavy and oppressive. There were draperies beyond the oracle’s throne hanging from roof to flagged floor.

  The oracle sat upon the throne, a small figure completely swathed in white robes, the face hidden in the shadows of her hood.

  Lannon halted in the centre of the chamber and before he spoke he admired for a moment the arrangements that put the interviewer at such a disadvantage. Barefoot, damp from the pool, stripped of weapons and finery, dressed in strange robes and forced to look up at the figure on the throne while he inhaled the subtly drugged air - he must be off balance. Lannon felt his anger stir, and his voice was harsh as he made the formal greeting and asked the first question.

  Huy watched from his place of concealment behind the draperies. He revelled in the closeness of his friend’s physical presence, remembering his mannerisms and voice tones, watching the familiar and well-loved face, smiling at an expected change of expression, the quick smoulder of anger in the pale blue eyes, the quickening of interest at a warning, the glimmer of a smile as he recognized good advice.

  Tanith spoke in the same sing-song cadence as Huy had used, picking the answers from the wide selection with which Huy had armed her.

  When Lannon was finished and would have left the chamber, Tanith’s voice stopped him.

  ‘There is more.’

  Lannon turned back with surprise, for he was not accustomed to unsolicited - and unpaid for - counsel from the oracle. But Tanith spoke, ‘The lion had a faithful jackal to warn him of the hunter’s approach, but drove the jackal away.

  ‘The sun had a bird to carry the sacrifices on high, but turned his countenance away from the bird.’

  ‘The hand had an axe to defend it, but cast the axe aside.’

  ‘Oh, proud lion! Oh, faithless sun! Oh, careless hand!’

  Behind the drapery Huy held his breath. It had sounded very clever when he had composed it, but now spoken out in the bare stone chamber it shocked even him.

  Lannon’s pale eyes seemed to glaze over as he puzzled the riddle, but it was not that subtle and as the import struck him his eyes cleared to the chill sparkle of sapphire and the blood engorged his face and neck.

  ‘Damn you, witch,’ he shouted. ‘Must I have it from you also? That cursed priest plagues me at every turn. I cannot walk the streets of my city but I hear the crowds sing his piddling songs. I cannot dine in my own banquet-room but my guests will repeat his empty mouthings. I cannot fight, nor drink a bowl of wine, nor toss a dice but his shadow stands at my shoulder.’ Lannon was panting with anger, as he stamped across the audience chamber and shook his fist in the oracle’s startled face. ‘My children even, he bewitches them also.’

  Behind the drapes Huy felt his spirits soar on bright wings, this was not an enemy speaking.

  ‘He struts and lords it in the streets of my city, his name echoes through my kingdoms.’

  Lannon’s anger was changing to righteous indignation.

  ‘They cheer him when he passes, I have heard it, and, by great Baal, they cheer him louder than they do their own king.’

  Lannon swung away from the throne, unable to control his agitation. His eyes swept over the draperies and for an instant seemed to stare into Huy’s soul. Huy drew back with a quick intake of breath, but Lannon paced quickly about the chamber before approaching the oracle again.

  ‘He does all this, mark you, without my favour. He should be an outcast, a—’ He broke off and paced again, and his voice changed, the cutting edge of it dulled, and he said almost inaudibly, ‘How I miss that terrible little man.’

  Huy doubted for a moment that the words had been spoken, but almost immediately Lannon’s voice rose in a bellow.

  ‘But he defied me. He took from me what was mine, and that I cannot overlook! ’

  Lannon whirled and stormed from the shrine. His gentleman-at-arms and his huntmaster saw the expression on his face and they signalled the warnings ahead of the king’s furious progress back to the palace.

  On the final day of the festival Lannon Hycanus prayed in the temple of great Baal, alone in the sacred grove among the towers and the sunbird monoliths. Then he emerged to receive the renewed pledges of loyalty from his subjects. Each of the nine noble families would be represented, as well as the order of priesthood, the guilds of craftsmen and the powerful trading syndicates of the kingdom. They would restate their oaths of allegiance to the throne, and present gifts to the Gry-Lion.

  Huy Ben-Amon was absent from the ceremony. Bakmor made the oath for the priesthood and presented the gift. Lannon growled softly at the young warrior priest as he made obeisance before him.

  ‘Where is the Holy Father of Ben-Amon?’

  ‘My lord, I speak for him and all the priests of great Baal.’ Bakmor avoided the question as Huy had coached him, and Lannon could protest no further in the presence of his assembled nobles.

  The ceremony ended the festival and Opet plunged into an orgy of food and wine and frolic and licence. While Lannon feasted with his nobles in the palace, the commoners thronged the narrow streets singing and dancing. The wine vendors passed freely amongst them, but during the daylight hours the restraint of custom and law checked the behaviour of the crowds. Darkness would bring on the lewd and wanton revels which characterized the festival. In the night the noble matrons and their pretty daughters would slip out, cloaked and hooded, into the streets to join the debauchery - or at the very least to watch it with shining eyes and breathless laughter. For a day and night the rules of society were suspended, and no husband nor wife could demand explanation or accounting from their spouses. It happened but once every five years, and when the festival ended there were wine-sore heads, pale faces and shaking hands, as well as smug and secret smiles.

  By the middle of the afternoon Lannon was drunk, expansively and happily drunk, as were most of his guests. The banquet-room of the palace
was sweltering. The sun beat down fiercely upon the flat mud roof, while the body heat of 500 excited nobles, and the heat from the steaming dishes of rich food turned it into an oven.

  The roar of voices drowned the valiant efforts of the musicians, and the artistry of the naked girl dancers was impaired by a barrage of ripe grapes aimed by a group of young and noble knights. Hits upon various parts of the girls’ anatomy scored for the marksmen in a contest upon which large ‘ amounts of gold were wagered.

  Deep in wine and talk, Lannon was not aware of the change in the feast until almost complete silence had descended upon the hall. He looked up, frowning quickly, and saw that the musicians’ hands had frozen upon their instruments, the dancers stood paralysed, and the guests gawked.

  Lannon’s frown deepened to a scowl as he saw Huy Ben-Amon approaching him down the hall. Huy was dressed in a blue tunic with a border of woven gold wire. He wore a gold belt, and a jewelled dagger. His hair and beard were carefully oiled and curled, and golden earrings dangled to his shoulders.

  His expression was solemn as he knelt quickly before Lannon, and his voice rang golden and sweet to every corner of the hall.

  ‘My king, I come to renew my allegiance to you. Let all men know that I honour you above all things, and my loyalty is unto death and beyond.’

  Lannon was caught off balance, as Huy had intended. His brain was fuddled with surprise and wine. He fumbled for words, but before he found them, Huy had risen swiftly.

  ‘As a mark of my faith, I offer a gift.’ He signalled with one hand behind his back, and all heads in the hall swung to the main doors.

  The towering figure of Timon stalked into the hall, passed down its length and stopped beside Huy. He stared into Lannon’s face with those ferocious smoky eyes.

  Huy whispered, ‘Down!’ And nudged the giant slave, and slowly Timon lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head.

  ‘But he belongs to the gods,’ Lannon challenged harshly. ‘You declared him god-marked, priest.’

  And Huy gathered his resolve, steeling himself to tell the lie, to commit this sacrilege. Despite the fact that he had already explained it to the gods and to Timon, he was uneasy. It was necessary to regain the king’s favour, Huy had explained, there was but one way of doing so. Lannon was bound by his pride. He could not move to break the deadlock. Huy must make the offer. He asked great Baal for permission to deny the bird-footed marking of the slave. He asked aloud, while pacing the roof of his house in the noon day. A distant muttering of summer thunder had been all the answer Huy needed. The gods had answered, but Huy felt nervous, the answer had been in a very minor key, and not without ambiguity. It was also very difficult for Huy to admit that he was wrong - it jarred the very foundations of his soul.

  ‘My lord,’ said Huy, ‘I was mistaken. The gods have shown me that the markings are not sacred.’

  Lannon stared at Huy. He shook his head slightly, as though he doubted the evidence of his own ears.

  ‘You mean - you give him to me without reservation? I can have him dispatched immediately, if I wish to?’ He leaned forward staring at Huy, ‘Do you give him to me without conditions?’

  ‘I have declared my love for the king,’ said Huy, and with his foot he nudged Timon.

  In a great rumbling bass, Timon spoke his lines in near perfect Punic. ‘I come to you as a living proof of that love.’

  Lannon rocked back on his cushions. He thought about it, and the scowl reappeared, as he saw it.

  ‘You seek to chain me! There are still conditions - only better concealed,’ he growled.

  ‘Nay, my lord. Not chains, but the silken threads of friendship,’ Huy told him softly. They held each other’s eyes, Lannon beginning to flush with anger. Huy steady and calm.

  Then suddenly Huy’s face cracked, and the dark eyes sparkled. The ringlets on his cheeks began to dance with suppressed laughter. Lannon opened his mouth to bellow at him, to reject the gift and the offer of friendship. Instead, laughter rattled up his throat and burst from his open lips. He laughed, until the tears poured down his cheeks and between gusts of laughter he moaned with the pain of his aching belly muscles.

  ‘Fly for me, bird of the sun,’ he sobbed, and Huy flopped down beside him on the cushions and shook and quivered with laughter.

  ‘Roar for me. Lion of Opet,’ he cried and a slave girl filled a wine bowl and brought it to him. Huy quaffed half of it, then passed the bowl to Lannon. He drained it. A little wine ran from the comers of his mouth into his golden beard. He smashed the bowl on the stone floor, then clasped Huy about the shoulders.

  ‘We have wasted much time, my Sunbird. Let us make up for it. What shall we do first?’

  ‘Drink,’ said Huy,

  ‘Ah!’ cried Lannon. ‘And then what?’

  ‘Hunt’, suggested Huy, choosing those activities dearest to the king.

  ‘Hunt!’ Lannon echoed. ‘Send for my huntmasters - we march tomorrow to hunt the elephant!’

  ‘Astarte, mother of earth, your beauty is multiplied until it floods my soul,’ muttered Huy, swaying gracefully, as he looked up at the night sky. He reeled backwards, but fell against a wall. It steadied him, and he went on studying the astronomical phenomena in the heavens. Four silver moons hung above the night-revelling city. Huy closed one eye, and three of the moons vanished - he opened it and they reappeared.

  ‘Astarte, guide your servant’s footsteps,’ Huy entreated, pushed himself away from the wall and went on down the narrow lane towards the harbour. He stumbled over a body lying in the shadows, and stooped unsteadily to check for signs of life.

  The body snored and grunted as he rolled it onto its back, and a warm fruity gust of winey breath came up to Huy. It reminded him of the recumbent figures he had left strewn about the banquet hall at the palace. Lannon chief among them, smiling as he slept.

  ‘Tonight you are in good company, citizen of Opet,’ Huy chuckled, and went tottering onwards down the lane. In an angle of the wall a dark shape moved. Huy peered at it curiously, saw one body, two heads, heard broken gusty breathing, soft incoherent cries. The movements were small, but unmistakable. Huy smiled, tripped and nearly fell. He saw a startled girl’s face turn towards him from the gloom. ‘Let all things be fruitful,’ he told her solemnly and went on, and as he went another figure slipped silently from the dark lane and followed Huy. The figure was cloaked and hooded in rough woven brown cloth, and its movements were stealthy and deliberate

  The quayside of the harbour was crowded with revellers, and there were bonfires burning here. The reflections of the flames smeared ruddy and bright upon the still black waters of the lake. Around them, arms linked in a circle, danced the crowds. Some of the women were past all restraint, stripped naked to the waist, spilled wine snaking down their white bodies like blood.

  Huy stopped to watch them a while, and the following figure hung back, mingling with the throng of merrymakers.

  When Huy started forward, the cloaked figure hurried forward also. The lane that led up to Huy’s house was in deep darkness, but a lamp burned dimly in a niche above the gate, left there to welcome the master home.

  As Huy groped his way towards the light, the following figure closed with him silently and swiftly. The blundering sounds of his own progress blanketed the rustle of cloth and the light footfalls behind him.

  Huy reached the gate, and he stood in the dim lamplight. His dagger was under his cloak, and his sword hand reached out for the latch of the gate. In that instant while he was unready and off balance, the dark figure flew at him from out of the darkness. A hand closed on his wrist, and he was thrown back against the wall beside the gate. Wine had slowed his reflexes, he twisted bis face upwards in surprise and alarm. He saw the dark figure, with its face hidden in the recesses of the hood, come at him - and before he could shout soft lips were pressed against his, and a little muffled chuckle broke through these lips into his startled mouth - and he felt warm breasts and thighs moving against him.

&n
bsp; The shock of it paralysed Huy. For long seconds he stood utterly still while lips and cunning hands teased and goaded him. Then with a hoarse cry he reached for the taut warm woman shape, and immediately it was gone, slipping away beyond his reach.

  He lunged for it wildly, his hands groping air, and the shape danced away, swirled through the gateway into Huy’s house and slammed the gate closed.

  Cursing desperately, Huy struggled with the gate, wrenched it open at last and ran into the entrance court.

  There was a flash of dark movement across the court, disappearing into the house, and Huy raced after it, tripped over a cushion and fell full length, knocked over a stool on which a house slave had left an amphora and wine bowl. They shattered loudly, splashing wine across the mud floor. A mocking whisper of laughter, from the dim recesses of the house, sent Huy scrambling to his feet and charging onwards. He saw the cloaked figure silhouetted against the lamplit doorway of his sleeping quarters.

  ‘Wait!’ he shouted. ‘Who are you?’ And his house slaves roused by the uproar came running, still halt asleep, panicky and hastily armed.

  ‘Be gone!’ Huy shouted at them furiously. ‘All of you - the first one I catch out of his room before morning, I will have flogged.’ And they retreated to their quarters, not seriously alarmed by the threat. Huy maintained his dignity until the last of them had disappeared, then he turned and charged towards the doorway of his sleeping quarters.

  There was a night lamp burning here also, on a low stool beside his bed. The wick was trimmed low, a soft orange puddle of light which left the farthest reaches of the room in darkness. Beside the lamp stood the cloaked woman. She stood motionless and the face within the hood was completely hidden although Huy thought he caught the sheen of reflected light off watching eyes.