He sounded like he wanted to convince both them and himself. Doubts as to their status was the last thing they needed now. Why Teal'c hadn't done what he usually tended to do, namely keep his mouth shut, was anybody's guess. Carried away by this whole spirit routine? If that was the case, then Meleq help them. A carried-away Jaffa was a handful.
"Sure we are," Dr. Jackson confirmed, too brightly for a deer in the headlights. Sam recognized the signs. He was improvising and hoping to hell it would work. "And... uhm... doesn't the Lord Meleq desire his children to prosper?"
Horror gave way to defensiveness, which possibly signaled an improvement. "How are we going to prosper by fawning to the Phrygians?"
"Who said anything about fawning?"
"Kandaulo!" He rapped out the name in that So there! tone schoolboys used when discussing whose dad drove the biggest car. "When Abibaal spoke like you, Kandaulo said he would be punished for his weakness, and Kandaulo was right!"
"Are you suggesting that the Lord Abibaal intended to negotiate with the Phrygians?"
The last time Sam had seen Teal'c look so smug was when they'd bullied Thoran into handing over the Tok'ra mission reports. Carried away, her foot! He was after something, and so he'd chucked a snowball at an unstable slope and waited for the avalanche to happen. Going by the smugness, the first drift was on its way downhill.
"Yes!" yelped Hamilgart. "He was to have met with the leader of the Phrygians. You have witnessed the outcome of his... labors."
"Wasn't he supposed to have sailed to Sidonia to bring back some children?" Daniel pointed out.
"Daniel Jackson, do you believe we could have told the people of Abibaal's true intentions? There would have been a revolt! The Tyreans do not take kindly to heresy!"
"How can talking be heresy?"
"Whenever it involves talking to the enemies of the Lord Meleq!"
"And for this reason you insisted that the Lady Ayzebel forego any further contact with the Phrygians and release her pigeons," Teal'c contributed matter-of-factly.
"Of course! It is my duty as her -"
The goblet had slipped from Hamilqart's fingers and struck the planks, exploding in a fountain of shards and wine. Their resident archaeologist flinched at the destruction of the artifact. How much was Phoenician glass on the open market? Probably priceless. Pale as wax, Hamilqart crumpled on one of the seating cushions that littered the deck.
"You knew all along, Lord Spirit, did you not?" he whispered. "The Lord Meleq has sent you to try my devotion, and I have failed."
"Perhaps not," the Lord Spirit replied. "However, I must advise you to speak the truth now. Your wife warned the Phrygians that the children's rite of passage was about to take place?"
Somebody should advise Teal'c to curb his intake of vintage American cop series. Next he'd Mirandize the guy. But seeing that Hamilgart wasn't familiar with The Streets of San Francisco, it actually worked.
"Yes."
"And it was the Lady Ayzebel who passed on the information about the harbor and the hidden entrance to the temple?"
"The Phrygians have always known about the harbor, but she did reveal the door to them."
"Why would she do this?"
Hamilqart slid off the cushion and onto his knees. "Please, Lord Spirit... I beg you to understand. She is not to blame. She is not an evil woman. She was misled from childhood. Her father, like most men in her village, worshipped the bull-slayer." A guilty glance darted Daniel's way. "I lied to you Daniel Jackson. I lied to protect her. Her village, it was not abandoned. We destroyed it many years ago, when the heresy became known. I was with the men sent to extirpate the abomination. I was young then. When I found her, she had already witnessed the deaths of her family. She was so beautiful and so afraid... I secretly took her away with me, and I hid her, and then, after some time had passed and it was safe, I gave her the name Ayzebel and married her. We told people that she had come from a remote mountain village. Nobody ever suspected. Not even Kandaulo..."
"What happened to the other survivors?" asked Daniel.
"There were none."
"But shouldn't they have been... purified?"
"We tried, Daniel Jackson. Believe me, we tried. But all those whom we took for purification proved recalcitrant. They would not alter their ways, and thus they could not be purified. They abandoned themselves to the wrath of the Lord Meleq."
"You mean you executed them!"
"We and the Lord Meleq would have much preferred them to live. Death always is a last resort. But by renouncing Meleq's mercy, they forfeited their right to choose."
"Of course," muttered Daniel, looking sick and biting back whatever else he'd been about to add.
"I see." The spirit steered the confession back on track. "So the Lady Ayzebel sought to avenge the murder of her fellow villagers?"
"No, Lord Spirit!" The brief surge of confidence had ebbed, and Hamilgart was beginning to sweat. "I told you she is not evil! She was misled! I swear, I did my best to teach her otherwise, for such is my duty as her husband and as an acolyte of the Mysteries of Meleq. But there are fears that can never be fully dispelled, especially in a mother."
"What fears?"
"The Phrygians believe that a terrible fate befalls our children at the hands of the Lord Meleq. It is a shameful lie, an old wives' tale to scare their own young. But the tale has wrought its damage. Ayzebel is convinced it is true."
Sam remembered the night of the procession and the anxious sense of anticipation that had hung around the Tyrean woman. It all made sense now. Ayzebel hadn't been waiting for the procession or to see her son for the last time. She'd been waiting for the Phrygians to arrive, because she knew - or at the very least hoped - they would be riding to the rescue.
"So when Luli was chosen, your wife alerted the Phrygians?" asked Sam. The moment she said it, she realized it couldn't be right. Too short notice to set up a reliable contact.
A miserable shake of the head confirmed it. "She has aided them for a long time. Perhaps even since Luli was born. The Phrygians told her that, if she did their bidding, her son would be safe. She trusted them. I assume, she had no choice. It was very likely that Luli would be chosen, and she always dreaded the day."
"And you have known all these years?" Teal'c again.
"No! I never knew until the night of the procession! When your friends were taken along with the children, Ayzebel became terrified, and that night, after you had gone to the temple with Kandaulo, she confessed what she had done. That is why I joined you. I am not a fighting man. I am no good at war. But I must atone, for her mistakes and for mine. Perhaps, if I am killed tomorrow, she will be forgiven. Please, Lord Spirit..."
He lay half prostrate, white-knuckled fingers clutching the fabric of Teal'c's pants in a death grip. All of a sudden, Sam felt nauseous. He hadn't deserved this, not if his only crime was trying to protect his wife. She launched an angry stare at her friend, semaphoring that it was enough. Teal'c acknowledged it with a barely perceptible nod.
"Rise, Hamilgart." The Jaffa practically pulled him up by the scruff of the neck and gravely studied the shivering man before him. "I believe you. You have my word that we shall keep your and the Lady Ayzebel's secret."
"Even from the Lord Meleq?" breathed Hamilgart, like he couldn't believe his luck and was trying to decide whether such leniency was a good thing or a bad, perpetuating the lies.
"Nothing further shall be said. On one condition."
"Name it, Lord Spirit, please!"
"If tomorrow there comes a chance to do parley with the Phrygians, we shall take it. Do not object or hinder us in any way!"
"It shall be as you say, I promise. But you must understand, Lord Spirit, that I cannot speak for the priests."
The priests being Lords Fuano and Tendao, who traveled on the second battleship and had been dispatched by the Synod to supervise matters spiritual. Or perhaps because Kandaulo figured it would be a good way of getting rid of a nuisance. The shape Tendao was
in, he might just die of heart failure when the wind breezed up.
"Do not concern yourself with the priests. Your only concern is with us," replied Teal'c.
"As you wish." Hamilgart nodded eagerly and his gaze fell on the mess he'd made earlier. "I... I need to call a servant to remove these shards. You might hurt yourselves."
With that he pattered down the stairs and vanished below-decks. Most likely he just wanted to get out of the line of fire before the spirit changed his mind.
"Uh... Teal'c?" Daniel spent longer than usual shuffling his glasses back up his nose. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
Sam nodded mutely, seconding the motion.
The eyebrow flicked skywards, and Teal'c gave one of his rare smiles. "Major Carter. I believe I am correct in assuming that you wish for us to form a vanguard and approach the Phrygians stealthily before the onset of hostilities. My actions may perhaps ensure that Hamilgart will not attract attention to our departure from the Tyrean troops." After a brief pause he admitted, "They also satisfied my curiosity."
lla res inquam mulieres non atingit." I'm telling you this matter is no woman's business, Dr. Siobhan Kelly mouthed along morosely. She'd been hearing that since she got up. Thirty-eight times so far, if her count was correct.
A couple of steps later she paused to catch her breath. Halfway up the foothills they'd finally reached the edge of a sparse pine forest. It had to be midmorning, and the skies were clear. The two suns seemed to have entered into a contest, and even a fresh mountain breeze did nothing to ease the heat. She grabbed a fistful of stola and dabbed the perspiration off her face. Finally something that ridiculous agglomeration of fabric was suited for.
Scurrying across the meadows below, she could see another group headed in their direction. Women and children and a few ancient veterans on walking sticks, shooed on by a pair of guards. They seemed to be the last lot to have left the garrison. The groups that had gone before were out of sight now, vanished around a rocky outcrop further up.
Naturally, noone had bothered to explain to her why they were re-enacting the Exodus. Just over an hour ago, a soldier had run down the main street at a brisk clip, shouting at the top of his lungs. It had resulted in further hollering from sundry parties and general headless-chicken behaviour. Shortly after that, and with similar discretion and decorum, Round Rosy had come barging into Kelly's room and announced that they were to leave immediately. Kelly had plopped onto the bed and informed her that she wasn't going anywhere unless they either told her where O'Neill was or produced him in person.
This had occasioned the thirty-seventh iteration of that infuriating sentence. Isla res inquam mulieres non atingit.
Then two soldiers had appeared on the plot andphysically hauled her out of the door and into the street, until she'd shown signs of voluntary cooperation. Her mood, which thanks to a sleepless night hadn't been brilliant to begin with, had deteriorated to an all-time low. Partly it was her own fault, and Kelly knew it. She should have rammed the facts down his throat, whether he wanted to hear them or not.
The jigsaw pieces had slotted into place as soon as she'd clapped eyes on that medallion in the assembly hall yesterday. Subsequently she'd kicked herself for not having made the connection sooner. Served her right for stupidly expecting aliens to be alien. They weren't. They were just, well... Roman. The Phrygian clothes, the `bull-slayer', the mystery, even the melodramatic handshake ritual, spelled it out in capital letters: they were disciples of Mithras. But, of course, that plonker would insist on not listening to her and had gone where angels feared to tread. And now he'd probably got what he deserved, and her watchdogs steadfastly refused to tell her where he was or when he'd be back. If he'd be back.
She'd read enough to wonder. Whenever her undergraduates threatened to grow infatuated with so-called Roman virtue or to fall for the fluffy fantasies of Mary Stewart, she'd bundle them into a coach and ship them off to Carrawburgh to have a gander at the Mithraeum there. The one item that never failed to impart a healthy dose of realism on young airheads was the evocatively named `ordeal pit'. Most extant descriptions were gleefully sadistic; alleged initiation practices included branding, starvation, flogging, some kind of trial by fire, odd goings-on with animal masks, and ritual murder. The latter being somewhat confusing. Dr. Kelly couldn't for the life of her imagine how one would initiate a corpse into one's secret society.
But even if that particular item defied credence, none of the rest sounded terribly cheerful. Enough to drive anyone barmy. And he was nutty as a fruitcake already. Any crazier, and he wouldn't be able to do what he ought to do, namely get her out of this...
Oh crumbs! Who did she think she was fooling? She was worried out of her mind. She liked that pigheaded Irish fool, no use denying it. Finding a half-decent sparring partner was a rare pleasure. Better yet, behind the bulwark of irony lurked a Quixotesque romantic who actually put his money where his mouth was and went and fought the bloody windmills.
"Oh hell, duckie," she groaned.
Round Rosy, who had continued stolidly to plod uphill, seemed to have realised that she'd misplaced her charge, turned, and came galumphing back, sprightly as a hippopotamus.
"Veni, domina! Celeriter!"
"Festina lente," Kelly shot back, which roughly translated as make haste slowly. She'd never have believed that a public school stockpile of inane Roman proverbs would come in handy one day.
Suddenly an idea presented itself. Round Rosy wanted her to jog up that mountain at best possible speed. Kelly wanted answers. Surely they'd be able reach some form of agreement, wouldn't they? Besides, she could do with a rest, and this was a delightful spot. The view was stunning, overlooking the lush, sun-drenched valley and the garrison below, and the trees were fragrant and gave plenty of shade.
Professor Kelly dusted a handful of pine needles off a convenient rock and sat down just as Rosy rumbled to a halt.
"Domina! Noli restore
"Ubi est?"
Rosy's face took on a flattering mulish cast, and she brayed, "Quin?„
"Who? God give me strength! The wretched creature's asking me who? You tell me right now where they've taken the lad, or you'll have to carry me up that mountain!"
Somewhere towards the latter end of that harangue Kelly noticed the obvious glitch and repeated all of it in Latin, which sounded far too polite for her purposes. Not that it had any substantial difference in effect.
Shoulders drooping with frustration, Rosy shook her head. "Nescio, domina. Verum est."
A straight answer for once, but the woman claimed she didn't know. Likely enough. Rosy probably didn't know what day of the week it was. So much for the power of passive resistance. Now what? Surrender gracefully, or take a leaf out of Mahatma Gandhi's book and sit here until she starved?
While she still pondered the dilemma, the group she'd watched earlier caught up with them. Its vanguard was a muscular, nononsense redhead who herded before her the Tyrean boy, Luli. He looked sleepy and altogether as enthusiastic about this expedition as Kelly felt. When he saw her, he brightened up a little and ran over.
"Lady Siobhan! I am so pleased to find you!" He coupled it with a little bow.
At least the boy had manners. The address also reminded her that she was on Her Majesty's Birthday List. Unless she got off this godforsaken planet within the next three months, she could go whistling for her DBE. It would be Dame Siobhan, of course, but she wouldn't get either title if she pretended to be a speck of lichen on this rock. Which quite convincingly solved her quandary.
Kelly rose and did her best to smile at the boy. Normally she avoided minors like the plague. How the dickens did one make conversation with a child?
"Hello, Luli. How do you do?" A little stilted, but it was a start.
"I do not like these people," he mumbled miserably. "I want to go home!"
"Join the club, laddie. I don't like them either, and I want to go home, too. See, now there's two of us already."
"Two?" His face fell further, and a tinge of panic infused his eyes. "Where is Jack? What did they do to him? He fought for me! Did they harm him? I shall kill them if they did!"
What was she supposed to say to that, apart from admitting that this boy had put her to shame. There were more important things than a poxy knighthood. So what was she to do? Tell him the truth? Dear Mama hadn't believed in mollycoddling, and Luli would find out sooner or -
"Lady Siobhan?"
Good God, she hated this!
"I don't know," she said at last, trying to sound positive and mask her own fear. Right now she wanted nothing so much as a quiet, mildewed study and a desk piled with insipid student essays. Sod fieldwork! "They took him away yesterday, and I've seen neither hide nor hair of him since. They won't tell me what happened to him."
"I shall kill them! I shall kill -"
"Shush! Don't talk like a halfwit! You're neither old enough nor strong enough to kill anybody. Besides, I'm sure he's just fine."
"You think so?" the child snivelled.
"I know so. Because he is old enough and strong enough to kill somebody."
Or to get killed... What was it she'd said - thought - about no mollycoddling? She was mollycoddling herself, that's what.
Birds twittered, Round Rosy flapped her hands impatiently, and so did the harridan who had escorted the boy. The rest of the ramblers had filed past, and up ahead the last old morsel hastily doddered around the bend in the trail and disappeared from view. Without making a conscious decision to do so, Kelly grabbed the child's grubby little paw, her glower daring the women to stop her. They made no move to interfere. All of a sudden it occurred to her that they looked scared. What in God's name was going on?
Squeezing Luli's hand, she said, "You're staying with me from now on. Alright?"
The tears still threatened to spill. Heaven help her if he started bawling! How did one handle a bawling child? Shouting at it probably wouldn't be acceptable. She set off for the rocks before the dreaded contingency could come to pass. The boy tagged along gamely, and the women exchanged a puzzled glance and followed in her wake. So far, so good. She assumed she should talk to him, provide some diversion, but pointing out tweety-birds and furry rats probably wouldn't do the trick.
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