The Forgotten Tale Of Larsa (18 page)

‘Then let me try again; I’ll be better this time, you’ll see.’

‘Lie down and be quiet,’ he said, wanting to silence her. He hated women who talked too much. He wanted sex, not conversation. She followed his instruction, doing it with a cheeky smile and a giggle; but she stopped laughing the moment she saw him take a dagger from the table by the bed. Nafridos looked at the weapon. It had just been cleaned and sharpened; he smirked as he hovered it over her face.

‘You’re beautiful, but you’re not as beautiful as she is,’ Nafridos said as he kissed her on the cheek, then traced the dagger against it, making faint scratches like a pencil drawn over paper.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I told you to be quiet,’ he said. He covered her mouth with his hand. ‘Don’t move.’

Nafridos would do anything to amuse himself, even killing the woman he had just made love to. He pressed the metal tip into her cheek, slicing into her skin as if he were cutting an apple. The concubine tried to scream, and flailed her arms, but Nafridos grabbed them and held her immobile.

‘Stop, stop!’ she cried, as he slid the knife deeper into her cheek, drawing a cuneiform word. Blood poured from her face onto the white pillow. Her beauty was all she had, and he was taking it from her.

‘No, don’t …’ she pleaded.

‘Don’t move again, otherwise I’ll kill you.’

He wiped off the blood against his hand, and returned to her, showing no sympathy for her agony.

Nafridos closed his eyes, and bit his lip hard. He imagined the princess lying on top of him, touching his body everywhere, screaming and quivering just like the whore was doing right now. He wanted to taste her, and feel her body move on his own; the thoughts gave him more satisfaction and pleasure than anything the whore could offer him.

‘Beg me to stop, say it louder,’ Nafridos whispered into her ear, as blood poured onto her neck and hair. He was using the dagger to etch a name into her cheek.

‘I beg you, stop, stop!’

‘Good,’ Nafridos laughed as he opened his eyes and looked down at the name he had etched onto her face – ‘Larsa’.

‘You were right, you were better this time, but you’ll never taste as good as she does. Now leave me,’ he said pushing her off his bed. She quickly ran out, covering her face with both her hands as she tried to stop the bleeding. Nafridos smirked as he watched her run; even so, he felt frustrated and irritable. Bitter jealousy ran wildly through his veins. He wanted the princess; he needed her like the opium that poisoned the mind. His blood, his every sinew needed to either have her or draw blood. Nafridos had heard about his cousin’s plans to have a child with the princess, and was uncharacteristically hurt. Nafridos felt something for the princess. No woman had ever made him feel like this; clearly, his obsession was beginning to spiral dangerously out of control. Jaquzan had always been the visionary, while Nafridos had always submitted to his rule; but now Nafridos had found a reason to wage his own war, and to stray towards disloyalty.
If I can’t have the princess’s heart, then I’ll have what her heart desires the most.
His battlefield scars testified to his destructive malice. He had never lost a battle and he would make certain that he maintained this record.
Your glory shall never outweigh mine, oh Gallant Warrior. When the war comes I will make sure she remembers the way you died …

Marmicus galloped across the fields where he had grown up. His wild horse pounded the earth with its hooves, and his body moved in sync with it. Together they were an unstoppable force; they chased freedom, determined to catch it as it appeared with the soft light of dawn. The peaking lantern of the sun grew stronger, appearing over the valley, growing powerful and more brilliant. Marmicus reached out his hand, wanting to touch the sun before it rose higher into the sky, away from his reach.

‘Unleash your fury, Orisus, unleash it so freedom can come to us,’ said Marmicus as he tightened his grip on the leather reins, and kicked his heels into his horse’s sides. The stallion charged forward at full gallop, jumping over fallen trees, beating his hooves deeper into the wet ground; it was as if he understood his master’s pain. There was no horse faster or more powerful than Orisus, everyone knew that, and everyone knew that whoever finally defeated Marmicus would not only inherit his Sword of Allegiance but would also claim Orisus.

‘Orisus, you’ll always be the envy of the winds,’ he said, feeling the jealous winds thrashing his face. Together man and beast were united, free and untrammelled in that moment. The forest opened up, giving way to a lush green valley that was empty of any homes or nomadic tribes; all that stood were several large oak trees, and a derelict mud-brick house. The rains had destroyed much of the house; only the stone foundations had survived. Without them, it would have completely disappeared into its surroundings, only to be found by someone who purposely searched for it. Marmicus pulled the reins and came to a stop. For a moment he felt free – he had finally reached the place where all his dreams of glory had been born.

‘We’re here.’ The horse threw his head back, and snorted loudly. His black coat shone in the misty light.

‘This is the centre of the world, Orisus, and everyone’s fighting for a piece of it,’ he said as he jumped off the stallion and knelt down. All his dreams lay rooted here, borne by this very soil, grown with every sunrise and made stronger by the rain. Marmicus reached for its soil. Taking some in his hands, he looked at it and breathed it in, wanting to smell the scent of his homeland. As he did, he remembered the faces of everyone he had loved and lost: his mother and father, his wife and the family he had never had. Marmicus remembered his childhood; how his mother used to watch him from the front window of their mud-brick house, smiling and waving at him as he ran across the valley with Sulaf; but instead of seeing his mother’s face, he saw Larsa’s and saw her as the mother he had always wished she would be. ‘If there’s nothing worth living for, then there’s everything worth dying for.’ Marmicus clenched the soil tightly in his hand, squeezing it hard, his veins expanding, his fists burning, all his hatred squeezed into his fist; the wet soil moulded itself into the shape of his palm, as if it were testifying to everything he felt.

‘You want a war, then I’ll give you one. When it comes, this soil will turn into a river of blood, and you’ll be the first to drown in it, Jaquzan.’

The maid had brought Larsa everything she needed to reveal her profound secret. Gathering her thoughts, she gazed at the papyrus. Between her fingers she held a charcoal rod that had been entwined with a golden coil; using this, she would tell Marmicus of his impending fatherhood, and the blessing and curse of her motherhood. Larsa knew she did not have the luxury of time to contemplate the words to use. The guardsmen were always there, listening, watching; they stood beside her door like bloodhounds, carefully listening out for the soft tread of a feline’s paw; any movement would alert them. Thankfully the Assyrian guards were distracted, giving Larsa the rare opportunity she needed to write down everything.

Two nights have passed, but a third shall not, she thought as she embraced the rare opportunity to write. Brushing the parched charcoal against the papyrus, Larsa finally began to write, her thoughts making their way onto the papyrus like a loving kiss blown from her lips. The sound of the charcoal rod stroking the delicate paper was enough to ruin her chances, but she would not draw back in fear. Larsa watched as the fine granules of coal began to splinter from the entwined rod as she drew the cuneiform symbols on the golden sheet.

To the one I adore and cherish with every breath that still lingers in the depths of my soul, oh sweet protector of heaven and earth, Gallant Marmicus,

Oh my love, I pray these words reach you safely, for it is this hope that leaves a candle burning brightly within my soul. Fate has overwhelmed me, sweet love, but the heavens are yet to collapse, for with this letter no wildness or grief can echo within my heart. Though our hearts are far apart, you are here with me in memory and in dream. Even among the tears that I have shed – plentiful in number and enough to fuel oceans far and wide – my grief is kissed with the remembrance of you. Oh, light of all that is good, tonight I bow before you, as do the heavens, the sun and the moon, for within my womb the jewel of your majesty grows. You are to be a father and I a mother. But among such glad tidings, oh my love, the fate of our unborn rests heavily on your shoulders, on your sword and the will of the gods.

For my enemy has decreed the darkest kind of punishment: that I will bear his crown within my womb and thus grant him an heir of royal blood. If I should refuse the pleasure of my enemy, then such infant that clings onto my womb in refuge will fall to the same fate as all those I have loved. And if I should accept, then woe upon my soul, for I have submitted to the devil’s request.

Oh, Gallant Warrior, I fear above all other things for your safety and that of my people. My fate rests with the gods, I have come to accept that, but the fate of our people rests with you and you alone. Alas, do not fear for my burden, dear husband, think of your own and think of our people; they are all that matters. Although these three months have been unkind, I thank the gods more now than ever before, for even among the masked night of my enemy’s kingdom and the wretchedness that my heart has come to know, I thank the gods for the gift embedded within my womb.

If we should ever meet once more, whether it is in heaven or on earth, know always that I love you, now and forevermore.

Allegiance lies in the heart of the sword …

Your love, Larsa

The morning light shone over the valley, glorifying it with a white brilliance. From her mud-brick house, Sulaf had seen Marmicus ride off in the early hours of the morning. Somehow, she felt he would come here, and she was right.

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘When your stallion gallops as fast as the wind, every soul can feel the storm approaching,’ replied Sulaf. She looked at him, sitting on the ground, doing nothing but thinking. ‘I see Orisus is as untameable as ever. I never knew that animals could inherit the hearts of their masters.’

‘Be careful; he’s not a horse that likes to be touched,’ said Marmicus, watching her.

‘How do you know, if you never let anyone touch him?’ replied Sulaf. She gazed at the wild animal, her brown eyes peering into his; she wanted to entrance him with her hypnotic stare, thinking that it would make him trust her, but it had the opposite effect. Orisus began to shake his head and stamp his hooves on the ground, tossing up clumps of grass. The more Sulaf stared, the more agitated the stallion became. Few people dared to come too close to him. The stallion was infamous; his reputation ironically mirrored the Gallant Warrior’s own; but Sulaf was not like most people, she had learnt to be as daring as her childhood companion. The stallion watched her nearing him, flicking his long tail in protest as she approached.

‘He’ll hurt you if you go any closer.’

‘No, he won’t. Animals are no different to men; all they need is a little bit of affection to make them do anything you want,’ said Sulaf. She reached out her arm, wanting to touch him. ‘Every heart can be tamed if it willingly chooses to surrender,’ she said, grabbing the reins.

‘Don’t!’ shouted Marmicus. But he couldn’t stop her in time. Orisus reared, jerking his head back, and the reins with it, and Sulaf slipped, falling to the ground. The fall was sudden and painful. She looked up, seeing a flash of hooves above her, her body at his mercy. Marmicus jumped up quickly, reaching to pull Orisus back before he trampled her. ‘I told you to let him be; ill-tempered hearts can never be tamed,’ said Marmicus, as he pulled the horse away and wrapped the reins around a tree. ‘Are you hurt? Give me your hand; let me help you up.’

‘I’m fine, just a little shocked,’ Sulaf said. She slid her hand through his, clasping it tightly, and an energy passed through her, one of undeniable lust and desire. Touching him was worth the fall.

‘You’re lucky he didn’t land on you. Even if he had, he’s not the one to blame; you always cause trouble wherever you go,’ Marmicus said. But he knew exactly why she had done it; it had been to prove her courage.

‘I think you’ll find it was Orisus who was the troublemaker here. What horse doesn’t like to be touched? They are meant to be ridden.’

Marmicus shook his head. Sulaf’s stubborn nature never failed to amaze him; she had not changed. Either way, he was glad she had come. He looked out over the valley, breathing in the fresh air and feeling calmed by its serenity. This place did wonders for his mind.

‘I’ve seen so many kingdoms and palaces, but if I could choose to spend the rest of my life in any place in the world, I would choose to live here, away from the troubles of men, and the spoils of kings,’ said Marmicus.

‘There was a time when you hated this place,’ said Sulaf.

‘I didn’t understand the world then; now I do,’ said Marmicus, looking at her. For a moment he forgot she knew almost everything about him; now and then he would always be reminded. ‘How’s your son? Is he still practising his sword fighting?’

‘He doesn’t miss a day of training, and every part of his body is now bruised, thanks to you. I should never have introduced you to each other; you’re all he can talk about, even when he sleeps.’ Sulaf placed her hand on his arm, as if wanting to thank him for spending time with her son. Marmicus looked at her, saying nothing, but responding to her sensual touch. ‘You would have been a good father. I hope you know that, Marmicus.’

Sulaf may have failed to hypnotise his horse, but Marmicus had certainly fallen for her magic. He looked at her, staring deeply into her eyes. Although he didn’t say anything, he silently gave her permission to do what she had always wanted to do. He looked at her lips, as if hypnotised by them, and for the first time he wanted her to kiss him. Right now, at this moment, he had neither the wish nor the willpower to refuse her.

‘How do you know?’ whispered Marmicus, still looking at her lips.