by David Bell
“What message, and who would send it?”
“That the seas are not ours alone. I do not know who is sending the message. You said ‘other cargo’.”
“There was some gold in the ship.”
“‘Was’; and is no longer, I presume. Then the message is ‘we take of yours what we want, and can deny you the rest if we choose’.”
“I have ordered two ships from the fleet to be sent on a search as soon as they are provisioned.”
“The marauders will expect that and will have withdrawn to their lair to bide their time. Nevertheless, it should be done; only there should be more ships, with a base in the islands, and regular patrols. Of course, that would be very expensive.”
“That brings me to the second reason I have for requesting your presence. Last night I had a meeting with certain other commanders and cited this latest loss as evidence that our commerce, and hence our wealth and power, face increasing threat. They agreed, and further, accepted that to ensure the means of countering the threat, and meet the costs, the enterprise we have begun must be pursued with increased urgency.”
“That is clear.”
“Yet there will be a delay: the lost timber was destined for the new ship.” Sekara paused for a moment, then went on, looking intently at Kanesh and speaking slowly as if taking care to choose his words. “We have to be sure that no other obstacles are put in our way. We must have the highest authority supporting us. I have prepared the way. You have been granted an audience at the Palace tonight after the devotions.”
“Then I must dress appropriately and bear suitable gifts,” said Kanesh. “Will you be there?”
“You are to be alone in the Presence. I will send to the ship for what you need.”
“If you will permit, I should like your Captain of Archers to go. I have grown to respect that officer. The boy in my care knows where my belongings are stowed. The ship’s master will give the Captain items that I need which he keeps secure in his cabin. Please advise me of the necessary protocol for tonight. Will there be one Presence, or more than one?”
“Who can say? At times the moon lingers in the sky after the sun has risen.”
THE PALACE OF KUNISU
A moon two nights from full rode high in the sky as Kanesh stood before the portico of a hall leading off the great courtyard. Under his black cloak he wore a long-sleeved tunic of rich red cloth stitched with gold thread, and calf-length boots of soft leather. One hand held a box of carved perfumed wood and the other rested on the hilt of the long sword that hung from his belt. He listened as the sound of Sekara’s footsteps faded away into the shadows. Heavy wooden doors opened to reveal a robed and hooded figure silhouetted against the faint light cast by oil lamps burning on tall stands arrayed against a wall painted with rosettes and spirals. The figure bowed to Kanesh and stood to one side, gesturing that he should enter. At one end of the hall flights of stone steps and landings supported by wooden pillars turned as they rose to floors above. An opening in the floor revealed other steps leading down into darkness below. The robed figure glided silently over floors of smooth cool stone and mosaic as it led Kanesh along corridors which turned first one way, then another, past tiers of columns rising to openings in the roof through which he caught glimpses of the stars. At last they stopped before a colonnade beyond which was a hall lit by the warm glow of torches standing in bronze holders. It was a room of many doorways, all closed except for those between pillars across the centre of the room where doors with carved wooden panels stood open to reveal walls beyond which were hung with elaborately decorated waisted shields and double-headed axes. Kanesh’s guide pointed towards a stone font that stood to one side of a doorway at the far end of the hall, and made signs of dipping its hands into water. Kanesh solemnly made the ritual gesture and after dabbing his hands dry with the white cloth offered to him, waited, looking round the room, while his guide, motionless and still silent, stood facing the door. Neither the shields nor axes showed any sign of having been used. They were the symbols rather than the instruments of power.
Some sign or sound that Kanesh missed must have been made, and the double doors opened silently inwards. Kanesh looked around. The robed figure was no longer there. He was alone in the room of shields and axes. Remembering Sekara’s counselling, Kanesh walked to the doorway and stood before the threshold, straining his eyes into the darkness in front of him. He waited as long as it took to recite the charioteer’s oath under his breath, and then stepped over the threshold and took three slow paces forward. Some of the soft light of the torches was filtering into the room and his eyes were gradually adjusting to the gloom. The only sound was that of his own breathing, except, was there the brief, soft swish of something high up behind him? A night bird, perhaps, flitting past a window? There was a faint glow in a far part of the room. He began to see it more clearly. Perhaps his eyes were getting used to the light; but the glow was increasing in the way it does when cupped hands hiding a lamp are slowly opened and the flame burns freely. It was a misty radiance lighting only one small part of what he sensed was a great hall, mostly in deep shadow, with some shadows deeper than others. The glow brightened enough for him to see it came from a screen of the sheerest cloth that seemed to hang in the air, shimmering like moonlight on the white wake of a ship.
Someone, or something, was behind the screen. Below it Kanesh could distinctly see the lower limbs from the waist down of a seated figure robed in white, but the head, which seemed to bear a horned crown, and upper body were only a vague shadow behind the finely woven fabric.
“Draw closer.”
The voice was low with the hint of an echo ending in a whisper. Kanesh did as he was bidden. The speaker sat on a high-backed chair or throne; a lighted lantern stood on a table nearby.
“You come forward like a soldier: alert, ready, purposeful. You limp a little; not a battle wound. You do not shrink from the darkness as I must do from the light.”
Again, the oddly resounding voice that seemed to come from every corner of the room. “I am Kanesh.”
“There is never need for me to say to any man who I am, yet I am not always the same.”
“This chest contains earths gathered by a man at the cost of his life said Kanesh. Powerful salves can be prepared from them.”
“It may be that he took them from a god, as the fire was first taken, and perhaps the sword you carry. A heavy price must always be paid. My thanks to him, and to you; place it there.” A thin white hand indicated a place on the table. The long fingernails were reddened as if dipped in blood that would not wash away. “You have other things to say. I will listen to you as long as the pain will permit and that will not be long.” The great head turned away as if in weariness. The shadows behind the trembling screen shifted and changed form, the horns lengthening and the face below broadening, muzzle-like. “Speak quickly and then go. I will not interrupt.”
Some time later, Kanesh stepped back into the room of shields and axes and the double doors closed noiselessly behind him. From the room he had just left came a long anguished cry, then another and another, like an animal in pain. Kanesh paused for a moment and half-turned.
“Wait,” said a firm clear voice. Kanesh stopped and looked up at the white-robed figure standing on the balcony above, and bowed. “I am waiting, Lady,” he said.
She drew back the hood and torchlight shone on the glossy black ringlets of her hair. A sudden waft of wind through one of the windows lifted the curls like those of a runner striving towards the tape.
“Behind that door is a corridor which leads to my receiving room. When you have found that you will know what next you must do.”
As Kanesh entered the room he caught the laughter of young girls coming from behind a door in the wall opposite which was just closing. The room was bright with the light of lamps on tall alabaster stands and the air was sweetened with the perfume of their oil. The floor was a mosaic of strutting peacocks and on the walls were frescoes of rock doves a
nd swallows in flight over rocky hills where fig trees grew and roses and clumps of blue iris blossomed. Seats of polished wood with soft cushions stood before the windows, which were open to let in the mild evening air. All the doors were now closed, except for one that stood ajar, revealing stone steps leading upwards. The staircase was steep and dimly lit by small beeswax lamps set in niches in the walls. Kanesh mounted slowly, stopping to try the door on each landing where the stairs turned, but all were locked. As he reached the last step, the door ahead silently swung open.
She stood beside a brazier full of glowing embers on which she was sprinkling the dust of some aromatic herb that smouldered and gave off a heady scent. She wore a simple gown of yellow silk, flounced from the waist down to her bare feet. There were bracelets of silver on her wrists and a pendant with a silver crescent about her neck. Her portrait had been painted high on the wall behind her above two crouching gryphons; she was looking downwards and the long black tresses of her hair swept away from her head like an opening fan.
“To the painter I was a goddess descending,” she said.
“And the dolphins,” he replied, glancing at the fresco above the door. “Did he also see you as a goddess of the seas?”
“The ship, Dolphin, carried the boy safely to the shores of Keftiu. I have reason to see him.”
“If you wish, it must be so; but he is in my care and there is much that he should see and do, outside this Court. He is not to be one of the Chosen Children.”
“That is not my reason. I will see him but he will not come close to me this time. You are to be an honoured guest at the Procession and the Games. He will accompany you. Meanwhile, you are free to go where you please with him on Keftiu. That is settled. Now, your thoughts after your audience below, if you please.”
Kanesh gave her an approving look: he welcomed directness. “My words, Lady, you know already – yes, the sound made by a silken hem sweeping across an alabaster floor is very distinctive – but my thoughts are these. His cries of pain and the colour of his hands make me think that your Consort has a grave affliction.”
“Which must not be known outside these walls, I warn you.”
“Threats are unnecessary; speaking of this outside would not advance my cause.”
“My concern is with a cause far greater than your enterprise: in a word, continuity.”
“To keep things as they are, and, as you seek to make the people believe, as they have always been.”
“The people feel safe with that; safe in the assurance that the Palace intercedes with the Lady Mother on their behalf; safe in the assurance that the Palace’s granaries are there in time of need; safe in the assurance that the Palace will protect them from danger. Safety lies in continuity.”
“That continuity, Lady, may now depend upon the enterprise of some who shun safety for the chance of success.”
“We are branches of the same tree. If you accomplish what you propose, the Palace will expect to benefit. If the Palace withholds its approval, you will never set sail.”
“And of course the Lady Mother will decide, I suppose.”
“I see we understand each other, my Lord. Will you take some of this wine?”
They drank in silence, looking at each other over the rims of the goblets. There was syrup of the poppy as well as honey in the wine. The brazier gave off its subtle perfume. She walked over to a window and stood in a shaft of moonlight that streamed in like a silver waterfall. Kanesh thought he had seen only one other woman who moved so gracefully. She turned away from the moonlight so that her face was in shadow.
“Listen to me, Lord Kanesh, as if to the Lady Mother speaking. I can read the thoughts of most men, but you hide yours now. When I asked earlier for them, you stopped short at mention of my Consort’s infirmity. You seek to know more of this. That must be so because you brought the precious earths from Korus to ease him. Perhaps you think they carry the power of persuasion as well as the power of healing: they could command a high price elsewhere on Keftiu. No matter; I will tell you what few others know. He lives in the shadows because the sun’s rays are painful to him and would blister his flesh. There are times when he sits deep in despair almost unto death for day on day, and then without warning rises in rage at anything, a fly on the wall, a footstep, a servant handing him his cup. He falls to the floor and writhes there like a stranded fish. It must be the Lady Mother who sends devils to torment him because the sign of the sacred two-bladed axe burns on his brow. When she is with him he must be confined, deep in the deepest, innermost cell of the Palace, so that his roar may not be heard. When she leaves him, he is again, for a little while, the gentle, smiling lord of his youth, loving to play and dance with the children called the Chosen.
“She is drawing close to him again, as you have seen and heard tonight. The physicians ply him with draughts pressed from the blue and yellow flowers and fragrant wax they say the great fish casts out, but nothing quietens him until the poppy brings on a blessed stupor. This I give to him myself, knowing well that there are those who whisper that I secretly poison him, though most of the potion is honey, because he can take nothing else. He wears the mask of the sacred bull to hide the deformities the affliction brings to his face: the scabs and swellings and the thick fringe of hair. You saw the shadow of this yourself tonight. The wearing of the mask is the rite at the Processions and Games for the Lady Mother, and at the sacrifices and ceremonies. The people feel the Presence of the All Powerful among them. If it were not with them, their crops would fail, their nets would draw nothing but weed and stones, and their cattle would be barren. For them the mask is the sacred sign, and for him, a welcome deception, hiding his shame. A physician from the Black Land has said that it is a royal disease, carried in the blood as punishment for some unspeakable ancestral offence. No prayer, no sacrifice, no rite of cleansing, it seems, can expiate the crime.”
She fell silent. The only sound in the room was a faint fluttering from the brazier’s tiny blue flames. When she spoke again her voice was barely above a whisper.
“You are thinking, Lord Kanesh, how all this may end. There was a time, a time long ago, when the Consort for a while enjoyed all the privileges and adulation reserved for him, until he had served his purpose…”
“And then made way for his successor to serve in his turn; and so it went on, this sacrifice, this renewal of strength.”
“It was simpler then. Strength fades with time. The grain swells and then the stalk withers; the fruit ripens, then the leaves fall. Only new seed will quicken in the earth.”
“And now?”
“You ask a question to which you already know the answer. It has pleased the Lady Mother to reveal that hers is the power and the presence in the seas and stars and mountains, the trees and streams and beasts, and not theirs, as was once believed. Hers is the choice of priestess and Consort. Hers is the strength behind the stroke that delivers the sacrifice at the festival of renewal.”
“And so the Consort is enabled to serve his purpose, and so each year he is renewed: clearly a satisfactory arrangement. Yet I sense something unsaid, something undecided, lady?”
She moved away from the window, slowly as if very tired, until she stood beside the brazier. She looked down into the embers, sprinkled a little more of the herb over them and breathed in some of the fragrance that rose up. Her fingers lightly touched the silver crescent pendant that lay on her breast as she looked at Kanesh with a sad smile on her face.
“When the flask is emptied, my Lord, one must decide whether to open another.”
“And if the wine is as good, my lady, no one may notice the change.”
“‘Change’, a word full of menace.”
“Rather of opportunity, lady.”
“I know you think my Consort is inclined to take your part, and you are right. I will not gainsay him, but I am less certain. I hear the Lady Mother speaking to me but her words are not yet clear. And yet I fear that she may be saying that with you will come such
change as may sweep us all away.” She put her hand on his arm. “Tell me it is not so.”
“Your Lady Mother does not speak to me. I mean no disrespect, but I have come to believe that a man’s actions have their own consequences, and these may not all be foreseen, no matter whether we pray, nor sacrifice, nor whistle for them, come to that.”
He was surprised to see her smile at him, rather archly, he thought. She had the deepest eyes and moved as gracefully as a deer. Her hand was warm on his arm.
“You are a bold man, my Lord. Where will such boldness lead you?”
“To the Tin Islands in the Endless Ocean, my lady, and more importantly, back again to Keftiu.”
She sighed and took her hand from his arm. Her sad smile returned. “And to Kallista, no doubt. Then I must delay you no further. You will attend the Procession and the Games, my Lord.” She turned away, went back to the window and looked out into the night.
Sekara leaned back in his chair, his feet on the table in front of him. He was encouraged by what Kanesh had told him. It was no use worrying about the lost timber; another shipment had been ordered and this one would have naval escort. There was plenty to do before it arrived, bronze work, ropes and lines to spin, anchors to fashion, battens to bend slowly over steaming cauldrons, beams to saw and shape; plenty to do.
“The Priestess is wary of us; not sure how, or whether, to use us for her purpose,” said Kanesh.
“She seeks to move all the pieces on the board in ways that will keep the game in play for ever. Some pieces are not even aware they are being moved, and others, knowing it, comply for their own good. Her Consort knows it, but he is a prisoner to his affliction, and must keep to the stratagem she has devised. At least she will not oppose us, that is, unless in time she deems it necessary to do so.”