The Wrath of God

by Jay Penner

  The throne room fills up. The King’s Guard, senior men of the military, the Chief of the Engineers, senior members of the Divine Council, King Minos and his senior men, the Royal Secretary, The Prince, The Queen, The King, and finally the Oracle. Today the King proclaims orders and strategy for the invasion of Egypt.

  My eyes fleetingly meet Apsara’s. I imagine the smell of lavender on her skin, and sweetness of her breath. My heart palpitates at the possibility that I may never see her again.

  We are playing a dangerous game.

  The assembly comes to a hush once the King finally stands. The night of orders, as it is called, is done with much ceremony. Light from soft yellow flames from two large lamps reflects off the royal crown. The Queen turns to him and holds up her hands in prayer, as does the Prince.

  “I will now proclaim orders. As per Atalanni laws, if you disagree, you have the chance to question it once without fear of penalty,” he says. He dips a bird-feather brush into a water bowl and sprinkles fragrant water on his wife and son. Khaia steps forward, receives the brush from the King, and walks around the arc sprinkling water on all the attendees and chanting ancient hymns.

  Once the ceremony is over, King Hannuruk begins. “The gods have spoken, and we march on Egypt. The people stand behind our warriors, and I know that our magnificent fighters and our advanced weapons will lead us to a resounding victory.”

  I nod along with others. I know that the armory holds secrets that seemed not of this world, but still, with a small army, it is unclear to me how we would take on land as large of Egypt.

  “Able men from this capital island and those in Kaftu will be drafted to train and serve. Engineers, ship and road builders, healers, cooks, cleaners, priests, planners, messengers, and other support will be identified and sent to accompany the army.”

  “A few whores—,“ begins Minos and suppresses his grin as the King shoots an irritated glance towards him. Prince Nimmuruk guffaws.

  The King continues. “I have heard your voice, but it is my duty as King to assign the men who act on the gods’ wishes and bring us victory. King Minos will lead the build-up and oversee army recruitment, training, and act as counsel to Prince Hannuruk.”

  The mention of the Prince’s name surprises many.

  “Prince Nimmuruk will lead the Atalanni army into Egypt.”

  There is silence in the room, and before anyone reacts to the announcement, Minos scrambles to his feet. He dramatically kneels before the King.

  “What have I done to displease you, Your Majesty?”

  Hannuruk seems taken aback. “You have been a loyal Governor, King Minos, and I need you to guard Kaftu and do what you must to prepare us for success.”

  “I wish to bring glory to the empire, Your Majesty. I must lead us to Egypt, and let you, and someday your great son, rule the mighty Atalanni.”

  “I am capable of bringing victory to us, King Minos. Listen to your King,” shouts Nimmuruk, red in his face and half up from his seat. Minos does not budge.

  “Not now, my son,” says the King, waving The Prince back to his seat.

  “The omens say that the Prince must be the one,” says Khaia.

  We turn to the Oracle. Nimmuruk sits back with a smirk on his face, and Minos rises to his feet. He moves menacingly towards the Oracle, causing several of the King’s Guard to shift on their feet. Khaia does not react as the Governor stares her down—his giant visage looming over her straight and diminutive stance. Under the dancing flames, it appears as if an angry wild dog is about to bite a fallen baby deer.

  “Are the gods so specific with their messages, sacred Khaia? Do they no longer speak to us in riddles anymore?” he asks, mockingly.

  “They speak how they want, Governor Minos,” Khaia says, unflinchingly, and looks at the King. “As I told you, Your Majesty, I have repeatedly dreamt of a lion cub grabbing the throat of a hawk, under the watchful eyes of a lion.”

  Minos, not yet placated, turns to the Royals again. “Your Majesty, if anyone could fuck the Egyptians it would be me—I have the power, the strength, the loyalty, the willingness—and yet you believe The Oracle. The Prince has no experience in the war theater—“

  “Enough!” screams Hannuruk, and he signals Minos to kneel by flicking his wrists and pointing his index finger to the floor. Minor obeys. The Governor is testing his long-standing relationship with the King.

  “I have made my decision, Minos. It is not a surprise that the gods desire that the Prince of the Atalanni carry out their mission and bring glory to our lineage. And I command you to do everything in your power to support him. He is your Prince, and you shall accord him that respect.”

  Minos bows again, but it is obvious that the Governor is unhappy. Khaia is looking at her feet, but from my position, I can see her tight-lipped smile.

  “Nimmuruk will be the lord of all forces to Egypt. Rishwa will aid him on strategy, and you, Teber, will be the commander of the army on the ground, serving the will of the Prince.”

  I bow to the King and the Prince. I hate the idea that the Prince would be the commander—it does not bode well, and yet the Oracle has made it clear that the gods willed it so.

  “The Chief Engineer of armaments will bring his men and women to Kaftu and arrange for supplies, testing, and construction of weapons.”

  The Chief Engineer, an unassuming man named Alos, bows to the King and The Prince.

  “You sail at the first full moon to Kaftu. Bring me Egypt!” says the King. He sits, and the priestesses begin a chant as they walk around the Royal Couple.

  At the conclusion of the chant, they walk by the Prince’s chair and lead him down his pedestal. Minos and I are asked to join the Prince by his side, and we kneel before The King. The Oracle picks up a cup and wipes a sacrificial bull’s blood on our foreheads. Khaia’s palm gently brushes my hair and a sense of great calm floods through me.

  Blessed by the Oracle herself.

  With her blessings, I hope that we will vanquish the enemy and return home to glory and to Apsara. Next, the Prince taps our heads with his scepter. Eventually, everyone returns to their seats.

  Uppiluliuma, Head of the King’s Guard, then addresses the room. “Penalty for insubordination or treason is death not only to the perpetrator but their families as well. Atalanni law is clear. We conduct peace in honor, and we will conduct war with honor. The Prince will execute our code faithfully and honor the gods and the dead of the Atalanni.”

  The Prince sits with his flabby chest pushed forward. He is in a trance.

  Finally, the King stands and makes his final comments. “We will reconvene on the day of departure. Go and make your plans.”

  As the Royals walk out, Apsara’s eyes follow me until she passes us. I catch her maid, Aranare, looking at me inquisitively, and turn away.

  CHAPTER 10.

  KALLISTU

  Minos lays on the wooden recliner. “You play a dangerous game, Khaia,” he says. The sky shows bands of blue, orange, and yellow as the sun sets. The window from Khaia’s terrace faces East.

  “Only if you say so. I am a servant of the gods, and it is their will I convey,” she says, smiling, as she passes on a goblet of wine to Minos.

  “You have known me for many summers now and know that I am not a man that blindly follows every tradition. Perhaps it is god’s will that I question your methods?”

  “No one confuses you for a man of tradition, King Minos,” Khaia says, laughing. She smoothens her sheer gown and notices Minos eyeing her. Khaia claps for an attendant to fill the wine goblets. Once the attendant finishes his task, Khaia orders him to leave the room and close the doors.

  “No one enters,” she tells him.

  Minos’ eyes lock on to Khaia’s. What a strange man, Khaia thinks, for Minos is bright, but he is reckless, blood-thirsty, lustful, and has no manners befitting a King. He is loud, but he is astute in his observations and does not hesitate to mouth his opinions, whether the forum is appropriate or not. But he is an
important man, and Khaia has to deal with him.

  Minos cracks his knuckles. “What do you have against me leading the charge in Egypt?”

  “I told you. It was the signs. You doubt my visions. There are penalties for questioning the Oracle,” she says, but the smile on her lips undermines her serious tone.

  Minos scoffs and takes a swig. He shakes his head. “I did not rule Kaftu and shape its culture only for you to think I am an idiot. You made up those signs.”

  Khaia bristles at the remark. “Chasing young Mycenaean boys and girls in your labyrinths and sacrificing them to the gods isn’t much of a culture.”

  Minos throws his head back and laughs. It is like the rumble of a hungry beast, and his great silvery mane shakes with every guttural sound. Khaia feels a strange attraction to this loutish man. She also knows that Minos ravages her in his eyes every chance he gets.

  “Culture is what you make of it, Khaia. You might find it offensive, but the people love it. Surely my success means the gods have sanctioned my methods. Have they sent you any messages about their displeasure at my customs as well? Dreams of a Minos-like man with a giant phallus running behind a maiden, tripping, and dying?”

  “No, they have not. Perhaps they agree with your methods. But we are not here to discuss your rituals, penis, and mating habits, are we?”

  Khaia smiles at the boldness of this man. No one else in the Kingdom, no matter what they thought, would dare speak to her this way. Even the King, no matter how angry, did not cross certain lines. Minos has no concept of a boundary. Khaia walks towards the window and adjusts the curtains—the intense wind dies down.

  “Why would you not want me to go to Egypt? Please do not coddle me with that nonsense about lion cubs,” says Minos.

  “We are venturing into the unknown. We need strong defenses just in case—“

  “Just in case that chubby idiot gets his head chopped off in the deserts of Egypt?”

  “Yes, and just because we have our Daivoshaktis does not mean we will beat the Egyptians. It is better for us that you supply our men and act as defense. You can play a bigger role depending what the Prince achieves.”

  “He will achieve little except to molest Egyptian girls. But the young commander is formidable, and you did not want him there either.”

  “He is not wise enough. Do you not see? It is one thing to take on swarming galleys and another to take on a Pharaoh. He should have stayed back, and we should have sent one of the older generals. We cannot succeed without the right strategy.”

  “The King sees no value in sending untested generals—most of those old men have never pierced another man’s belly. The King is right—Teber is the right man for the task at hand.”

  Khaia walks by Minos’ side and sits next to him on an elegant wood stool.

  She places a palm on his shoulder.

  Minos’ eyes widen.

  “Well, then you should know that the Prince has no love for Teber. When they were still children, Teber thoroughly humiliated him in a fight.”

  Minos arches his eyebrows. “But he is still alive.”

  “Well, the laws require disclosure before execution, and those who witnessed it were not commoners. What Prince would want to call witnesses to his own embarrassment? Murder would create more questions, and you know that Divine Council does not take kindly to unlawful killings.”

  “So you say, beautiful, and yet the King does as he pleases these days,” Minos says, and traces a finger along Khaia’s arm. “You surely know that his first wife languishes and goes mad alone in a sparse cell because she gave him a son with limited mental faculty.”

  “The times have changed.”

  Khaia is aware of the fate of the first Queen. The King’s second son was never in public eye—he is fourteen summers old but behaves as if he were five. His body is ravaged by various afflictions. The danger to the Kingdom was the possibility that one day, he could be King. Many knew that Nimmuruk mistreated his mother on the nudging of his father and was known to have beaten her on more than one occasion. The mother and the son languished in a dungeon, forgotten to the world.

  Minos reaches up to Khaia’s neck and tickles it playfully. “And is there a reason you want the Prince so far away and in danger—”

  Khaia puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t make dangerous accusations. Watch what you say. Nimmuruk is a vicious idiot, and we both know that it is you, not I, who put that young hothead Teber in the position he is in. It is up to you to make sure he lives and succeeds.”

  “I will make Teber the best general there can be,” Minos says, his voice hoarse and breath picking up speed. His great chest rises and falls like waves on a restless sea.

  “Does the King think war is easy?” she asks.

  “He thinks war is a trivial matter, but the old man is senile. Even his pretty wife does nothing to—“

  Khaia leans forward and places her palm on Minos’ chest. He holds her hand with his powerful grip and pulls her forward.

  She leans to his ear and whispers. “He is impotent. There is nothing she can do. But leave their marital problems aside, Minos, what is in your mind for the opening gambit?” Khaia smiles as she moves her fingers through the silver strands on his chest.

  Minos turns to face Khaia, his face red with arousal. “We will first align with the Asiatics. They are becoming weak, but we can bring strength to them and use them as the tip of the spear. Let them take losses as they weaken the Egyptians until it is time for us to take over.”

  Khaia lifts her face and looks out. The sky has darkened, and hundreds of seagulls fly.

  Workers labor in the harbor to prepare the war boats.

  Rows of lamp posts glint all along the ruined causeway, sparkling like firebugs in the night.

  Ceremonial fires still burn bright in the central temple.

  She presses close to Minos. His body is radiating heat like a stone under the afternoon sun. “You are a clever man. I had the same thought,” she said, as she moves the curls away from her eyes. Minos cups her breast and pulls her forward on himself.

  His breath is raspy. “But do not stand in my way, Khaia, once we achieve glory. I want to rule Egypt from their capital as an extension of the Atalanni empire.”

  “I have no objections to that, provided you do not question my messages in the courts,” she says, as she slides closer. Minos’ hands envelop her. She senses his thundering heart and feels him stiffen beneath her. Khaia moves on top of Minos as he watches her mesmerized.

  “What is in your mind, Khaia? I know it is not the gods, but it is you—“ Minos begins, but Khaia closes his mouth with hers and positions herself; and as Minos enters her, she closes her eyes and imagines herself on a throne.

  CHAPTER 11.

  KALLISTU

  It is a glorious day. The sky is blue without a speck of cloud as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of war boats stand ready to sail, and the colorful Atalanni flags flutter in the wind. Men stand on each boat, facing the land, and they place their hands on their chests, waiting for the King and other high-ranking members of the society to appear for farewell.

  I stand next to the Prince, who is dressed in a new royal uniform designed for battle. A shimmering red garment covers the Prince from his neck to his knees, made of a strange new material obtained from a land far away on the other end of the world where the sun rises. His chest is protected by a beautifully carved lion-and-hawk cuirass, held in place by oxhide belts. The pudgy Prince stands awkwardly, out of his element, leading the procession of boats.

  Sun warms our bodies, and I watch as the central platform by the harbor fills up with dignitaries. Minos whispers, “The Oracle is unhappy that you stand here, young Teber.”

  “I heard, King Minos. But it is not my place to come between you and her.”

  “I told her that I would make you a great general and bring you back alive. Show her that she is wrong. Oracles are not always right. You know that, don’t you?” he says, grinning merrily.
I am unsure what to say, for it was surely sacrilegious to question the Oracle’s judgment.

  “I do not know that, King Minos. The Oracle’s words are divine—“

  “Oh, you silly fool. The Oracle is divine, that I guarantee. Her words are full of wisdom, but it is her—” he grins and stops from whatever he is about to say next. “Anyway, we will sail soon. Absorb the glory of this magnificent land, Teber. You never know when you will return.”

  I bow to Minos, who then uses a plank to go to his own boat, leaving me with the Prince.

  I squint at the platform, hoping to see Apsara. We had met again last night in the darkness of the tunnels. We had embraced like there was no tomorrow. Her tears had stained my chest, and I had promised to return. I ached for her, but at the same time, my chest burst with pride for what the Kingdom had entrusted me with, that too going against the Oracle’s wishes.

  I would conquer Egypt, subdue their inferior gods, and bring glory to the Atalanni. When we are done, there will be no empire in all the earth like the Atalanni. Once Egypt falls, I had told King Minos, we should turn to Mycenae and end them once for all.

  Though the ‘we’ in that sentence would not include me, for I would be far away in Assyria with Apsara.

  Loud beats of drums and horns, announcing the arrival of Royalty, disturb my reverie. King Hannuruk and his entourage walk along the edge of the harbor to the podium, stepping on a flower-bed road. The priests chant loudly, and as the crowd watches, other members of the temple drag an unwilling bull to the center. They tie it to a heavy stone post embedded into the ground and burn lotus flowers around it. I watch as the priests conclude the ceremony by slicing the neck of the bull and letting the blood flow along a gutter into the water.

  The King makes a speech, but in the gust of winds and chatter of crowds, I cannot make out what he says. He finishes and picks up the bull’s severed head, lifting it high above his head. As the crowd makes a deafening noise, he throws the head to the water. Prince Nimmuruk and I raise our hands in salute, and I watch as Queen Apsara, along with her husband, lift glistening gold swords into the air.