Martina turned away, her hand rising to her lips. Rufio stood, waiting, until she could speak again. "They say that this thing is my fault." The Empress' voice was very faint, barely a whisper. "My handmaids hear them; in the market, in the baths, at the Hippodrome. They are merciless and cruel. Did you know, there are plays in the low houses of the Racing District that… that depict what the common people think transpired in our courtship? It is rude work, no Ion of Chios surely, but I know it is what the fine ladies and gentlemen of the nobility are thinking when they titter behind their fans and handkerchiefs."
Rufio said nothing. He had heard all the same spiteful gossip and outright condemnation of the marriage of a niece and uncle. He knew them both, and had seen for three years that they loved one another deeply. What mattered to him, today, was that he needed an ally.
"My lady, there is a thing I would do, but I need your help."
Martina had heard nothing. She stared off into the darkness, her arms crossed over her chest. "They say that the gods have turned their backs on us, because of our marriage. We are cursed, our blood corrupt. My children have all died, save little Heracleonas. He is so small and weak-will he live? Is it true?"
"Empress!" Rufio turned the woman, his big hands enveloping her thin shoulders. Why not compound two treacheries by laying hands on the body of the Empress, too? He almost laughed, but stifled it with a cough. "You must listen to me." He bent down, catching her eye.
"Sviod, the blond youth, he says that among his people this affliction is not unknown. He says that if certain medicinal leaves and berries can be acquired, the Emperor may be cured."
Martina stared at him with such a blank expression that Rufio feared she had retreated into her own madness.
"Empress?"
"Oh. Yes, Rufio… what did you say?"
The guard captain, quelling an impatience that pressed him to shake her until she came to her senses, repeated what he had said before. The Empress was openly puzzled.
"How can I help you? My husband will not even admit me into his presence, much less allow physicians or priests to attend him. I am imprisoned in my quarters… I have no friends or allies… His brother hates me and conspires against my son!"
Rufio sighed. The Empress had a great love for the ancient classics, and histories and all matter of obscure things about the natural world. Her education in the matter of palace intrigue, however, was sorely lacking. He raised a finger and pressed it to her lips, halting the flow of words. Her eyes widened in shock, but she remained silent.
"My lady, the medicines that Sviod desires are also used for the treatment of diverse women's ailments. It would be very odd indeed if one of the Faithful were to be seen purchasing such a thing. Your handmaids, however, could seek out a merchant in the lower city and acquire them with ease. No one would think anything of it. Will you help me?"
"Yes," Martina nodded vigorously. "How will you make him take it? I have heard he refuses all medicines…"
Rufio nodded, saying, "this is so. But when he sleeps, I believe that his lips may be moistened with the elixir and he will not even be aware of it. His body craves the things he denies-food, sleep, water. While his mind is in the arms of Morpheus, we may yet save him."
Martina smiled and took Rufio's hand in her own and squeezed. The guard captain barely felt the pressure through the sword calluses and muscle. He did not return her smile. His thoughts were occupied with all the things that might go wrong. Prince Theodore was gone from the city at last, but his adherents and supporters were many in the palace. Soon, the mere possession of the Emperor's body would be crucial.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Petra, Nabatea
An old man with a snow white beard lay sleeping. Heavy quilts, stitched with squares of green and cream and gold covered him like a mountain. Thick down pillows lay under his head. Long butter yellow slats of sunlight crept down a wall above the bed. The wall was plastered and painted a deep mottled sandstone, though at the joint of the wall and the roof there was a line of black-painted figures and block script. The man's breathing was even and steady, his mustaches riffling with each breath. His beard had been combed out in a fan across the top of the quilts. At his side, her head cushioned on her arms, a young woman was folded up in a wicker chair. Its cushions were skewed under her, and a cotton blanket had been laid over her during the night.
Full day ruled outside the room, though the vines and flowers that grew in the window almost shut out the light. What sun did enter found a dim green place. Circular pipes along the upper course of the walls allowed a breath of air to enter.
The young woman's long black hair was tangled and matted with burrs and dirt. Grime streaked her high-boned cheeks and collected under her fingernails. Despite this, and the filthy tattered clothing she wore, she slept deeply and without dreams. By habit, a knife was clasped in one hand, its sheathed blade resting under her cheek.
The sun settled along the wall, drooping lower and lower until the light, now almost fading, touched the old man's face. His noble nose twitched and he stirred. The heavy quilts made it difficult to move. An eyelid flickered and then opened. Then the other joined it. For a moment, they stared in interest up at the ceiling, seeing a pattern of cross-hatched slats and plaster. Then they became aware and the old man turned his head, seeing the young woman in her chair and then a low table bearing a pottery jar, dark with water sweat.
"Zoe?" The old man's voice was at odds with his snowy beard and thick bushy eyebrows. It was the voice of a man of middle age, strong and powerful, used to making itself heard over the din of battle or the wail of a sandstorm. "Wake, O Queen."
The girl stirred, scratching at her nose and then she too opened her eyes. A flicker of darkness was in them for a moment, and then it passed. The young woman smiled, seeing the face of the old man. "You're awake."
"Help me up and bring some cups. I am thirsty."
Zoe nodded, stretching and yawning. She was sleepy and relaxed. A heavy earthenware cup was fetched from a cupboard and she poured it full.
The old man drank deep of the water, draining three large cups. Zoe laid back the quilts and the sheets beneath. Despite her motion, she still seemed half-asleep, quiet, and introspective. When he had drank his fill, the man put the cup on the table and caught the young woman's hand.
"Are you well?"
Zoe met his eyes with a puzzled look. "I thought I was dreaming," she said. "There was darkness and then a light. Do you remember what happened?"
Mohammed nodded. He remembered.
"Send word to my captains. We will go to the High Place tonight, as the sun is setting, and I will speak to the multitude. I have seen what must be seen. We are ready."
– |A thin cold wind gusted, fluttering the green-and-black banners of the Sahaba. Mohammed stood on the altar of stone that stood at the summit of Jabal al'Madhbah. Sheer cliffs surrounded him on three sides, plunging down a thousand feet into the valley of Petra. The sun, enormous and gold, hung just on the western horizon. From this vantage, the rumpled hills that surrounded the hidden city were a maze of fading golden light and shadow. In the east, the sky was already dark and shadow crept-purple and blue-across the land toward him. There was a smell of night falling in the air. Below him, where night had already filled the canyon of Siq, he could hear the squeak of bats hunting.
He turned away from the chasm, looking upon the faces of those gathered in the High Place. The pool had been drained and filled with dirt and stones, the altar stone scrubbed until the dark stains faded. The air here, now that the sun and wind had looked upon it, was clean and clear. Even Mohammed could barely feel the lingering echo of the evil that had been done in this place.
Now it was crowded with the nobles of the city, the captains of the Sahaba, the lords of the Decapolis and the Palmyrenes. Hundreds of men and women stood, silently waiting, their robes and veils rustling in the wind. There was no other sound, only the quiet voice of the Lord of the Empty Places gusting over t
hem. The rest of the army stood below, in the canyons and plazas and amphitheaters of the city. It seemed impossible that they would be able to hear him if he spoke from the mountaintop, but certainty rose in his heart.
Leaning on a staff of wood, he took a breath and then, in a strong carrying voice, began to speak.
"The merciful and compassionate one came to me in darkness, saying:
"'You alone of men have opened your heart to Our truth. Go forth and travel by night from the Red City to the Farther Mosque whose surroundings We have blessed, so that We might show you Our sign. The Lord of the Air is the Alert, the Observant! A time of great testing is close at hand, and We have warned you.
"'When the first of these warnings came, we dispatched servants of Ours to inflict severe violence upon you. They rampaged through your home, and it served as a warning that you acted upon. Then We offered you another chance against the enemies of men, and reinforced you with wealth and children, and granted you many followers.
"'Thus We sent Our second warning, and so you entered the Mosque and utterly annihilated anything that opposed you. If you heed your Lord he will show mercy to you. If you should turn back from the task He appoints, you will find Hell a confinement for disbelievers! We have reserved painful torment for those who do not believe in the word of the Lord of the Waste.'"
Mohammed paused, the sound of his voice hanging in the air like the tolling of a great bell. He saw that the faces of the Sahaba were filled with awe and open, like flowers turning toward the rising sun. He knew the effect the words of the God had upon him, but he could not ken their weight to others. It seemed as he searched their faces, that they felt some small echo of the power that filled his mind when the voice came. He hung his head, feeling a wretched sensation of inadequacy. How could his mortal voice convey what he had felt and experienced in the distant temple?
But the voice had bade him recite, to speak to the many. He cleared his throat.
"This is what was said: 'We have granted night and day as twin signs. We blot out the sign of night, and grant the sign of daylight to see by, so you may seek bounty from your Lord and know how to count the years and other such reckoning. Everything We have set forth in detail.
"'We have tied each man's fate around his neck; and We shall produce a book for him on Resurrection Day that he will find spread open: "Read your book; today there will be none but yourself to call you to account!"
"'Anyone who submits to guidance will be guided only so far as he himself is concerned, while anyone who strays away, only strays by himself. No burdened soul shall bear another's burden.
"'We have never acted as punishers until We have dispatched some messenger to warn those who have strayed from the Straight Path. Yet whenever We find that our guidance has been ignored by the depraved and the evil, We do not shrink from annihilation. How many generations did We destroy since the Drowning? Sufficient is it for your Lord to be Informed, Observant of His servants' sins!
"'For anyone who desires only the fleeting present, We grant this wish. Then Hell waits for him; he will roast in it, condemned, disgraced. Anyone who accepts the Hereafter and makes a proper effort to achieve it while he is a believer will have their effort gratified. Each We shall supply, these as well as those, with a gift from your Lord: your Lord's gift will never be withheld.
"'What is the law that guides the Straight Path? How may a man walk it, and escape Hell?'"
There was a great rustling in the darkness, for the sun had set in a blaze of gold and yellow and saffron in the west. All those men and women that stood in the High Place knelt, for each had pondered the same question since they had pledged themselves to follow the chieftain.
They had seen his power. They knew that his words were the truth.
Among them, at the back, near the twin stone pillars that marked the end of the nine hundred and ninety-nine steps, a young well-dressed man settled to his knees. On the ground before him, he placed a scabbard of plain beaten copper, painted black. A saber hilt jutted from it, wrapped with wire and then a taut covering of linen. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that the balance of the blade was perfect. The swordsmiths of Mekkah, upon learning the destination of this weapon, had excelled themselves. The young man had watched over their process with an eagle eye, for he knew that such a gift needed to dare perfection.
They had done well, though Khalid Al'Walid had not drawn the sword from its sheath since the eldest of the Mekkan guild masters had placed it there with reverent hands. Only one pair of hands should ever touch this weapon or draw it in anger.
"This is the way: Do not place any other deity alongside God, lest you sit back, condemned, forsaken.
"Your Lord has decreed that you should worship nothing except Him, and show kindness to your parents; whether either of them or both of them should attain old age while they are still with you, never curse or scold them. Speak to them in a generous fashion. Protect them carefully from the cruelty of the world, and say 'My Lord, show them mercy, just as they cared for me when I was a little child!'
"Your Lord is quite aware of anything that is on your minds; if you behave honorably, then He will be forgiving toward those who are attentive.
"Render your close relative his due, as well as the pauper and the wayfarer. Yet do not squander your money extravagantly; spendthrifts are the devil's brethren, and Shaitan has always been ungrateful toward his Lord. Yet if you have to avoid them, seeking some mercy that you may expect from your Lord, still speak a courteous word to them. Your Lord extends sustenance to anyone He wishes, and measures it out; He is Informed, Observant of His servants and their doings.
"Do not kill your children in dread of poverty; We shall provide for both them and you. Do not commit adultery. This is an evil thing, and abhorrent in the eyes of the God that formed men and women from clots of blood.
"Do not kill any soul whom God has forbidden you to, except through the due process of law. We have given his nearest relatives authority for anyone who is killed unjustly-yet let him not overdo things in killing the culprit, in as much as he has been so supported.
"Give full measure whenever you measure out anything, and weigh with honest scales; that is better and the finest way of acting.
"Do not worry over something you have no knowledge about: your hearing, eyesight, and vital organs will all be questioned concerning it.
"Do not prance saucily around the earth; you can neither tunnel through the earth nor rival the mountains in height.
"All that is deemed evil by your Lord is to be hated. Such is some of the wisdom your Lord has revealed to you.
"Do not place any other deity alongside your God lest you be tossed into Hell, blamed, rejected.
"The Seven Heavens and Earth, as well as whoever is in them, glorify Him. Nothing exists unless it hymns His praise; yet you do not understand their glorification. Still He has been lenient.
"Wrongdoers will say: 'You are following a man who is bewitched.' Watch what sort of stories they make up about you. They have strayed away from the Straight Path and are unable to find a way back. They say: 'When we are bones and mortal remains, will we be raised up in some fresh creation?'
"Become stones or iron or any creation that seems important enough to fill your breasts; so they will say: 'Who will bring us back to life?' Say: 'The One Who originated you in the first place.'
"They will wag their heads at you and say: 'When will this come to pass?' Say: 'Perhaps it is near! Someday He will call on you, and you will respond in praise of Him. You will assume you have lingered for only a little while."
Now Mohammed paused, for the weight of the words in his heart had become quite heavy. His fingers gripped the staff, their knuckles turning white with the effort. His voice rolled like thunder, for now the compassionate and the merciful one demanded recompense for the favors He had done the race of men.
Even below, in the gorge of Siq, where men stood closely packed, shoulder to shoulder, their helmets removed, they could hear the
voice ringing in the clear air. It filled the night and settled in their hearts. Each man knew that the excursion of the Sahaba into the lands of the Empire was no raid. That had been clear for weeks. A task had been set them, something mighty. Now they strained to hear of it, their blood slowly building to the race.
Among them, standing in the doorway of the graven temple at the gate of the canyon, Odenathus of Palmyra knelt, the hilt of his sword pressed to his forehead. He had spent many days in the company of the captains of the desert host; he had heard the Young Eagle, Al'Walid, speak of the power and miracles that sprang from the heart of the Quraysh. He had seen the utter devotion and loyalty that the hardened mercenaries of the Tanukh afforded the chieftain.
The young man pledged himself, there in the flame-lit darkness, on the cold desert night, to the purpose of the Quraysh. Where Mohammed led, Odenathus would follow. He put aside his fear and hate, even the pain of the death of his city. He would submit himself to the will of this God that spoke from the clear air. In this thing there was freedom and blessed purpose.
"The lord of the Seven Heavens tasks us: Shaitan stirs up trouble among those who close their hearts to the voice from the clear air; Shaitan is an open enemy of man! Your Lord is quite aware of whoever is in Heaven and Earth.
"When we told the angels: 'Bow down on your knees before Adam,' they all knelt down except Shaitan. He said: 'Am I to bow down on my knees before someone you have created out of clay?' He said further: 'Have you considered this person yourself whom you have honored more than me? If you will postpone things until the Resurrection Day, then I shall bring all but a few of his offspring under my mastery.'
"He, the Merciful and Compassionate One, said: 'Go then! Any of man that follow you will have your reward; it is so ample. Entice any of them whom you can with your voice. Set upon them with your cavalry and your manpower. Share wealth and children with them, and promise them anything. As for My servants, you will have no authority over them; your Lord suffices as a Trustee.'
The Gate of fire ooe-2 Page 72