Epic Of Ahiram (Book 1) (55 page)

Everyone rose as the King left for his private apartments. Upon entering, King Jamiir III was surprised to find Queen Ramel waiting for him.

“My dear Ramel, have the events at hand disturbed your sleep?”

“What is His Majesty’s decision?”

“Since when has the Queen shown any interest in the governance of the kingdom?”

“There have been three murders in this castle since the start of the Games. I do not feel safe while these Games are in progress.”

“I trust that Commander Tanios will resolve this matter. He is a capable man. As far as the Games are concerned, the King will let his decision be known tomorrow morning.”

“I trust His Majesty considered the impact that his decision will have on his servants throughout the kingdom. My servants informed me there was only one golden mask in the race and that pursuing the Games means almost certainly a death warrant for the slave, whom many consider to be a hero. If His Majesty were to authorize this last Game, it may be interpreted by the people of Tannin as an act of treason.”

“An act of treason?”

“May the King live forever,” said Ramel, bowing. “Surely His Majesty knows that the servants of the King see in this slave the fulfillment of the prophecy concerning the rise of Tanniin?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Jamiir with a tired voice, “I know all about their dreams and aspirations. But what can dreams do in the face of the harsh reality of Baal? The high priestess told me the Temple is sending reinforcements. This will be the last time these Games will take place. The forces of Baal are preparing to take over the castle at the end of the Games, and they are thinking of dismantling the Silent Corps. I am not even certain the kingdom will be preserved.” The King fell silent for a while and Ramel waited.

“I have striven to protect the crown of Tanniin from a complete takeover by Baal, and I thought I had succeeded by authorizing the construction of a temple to Baal in this city and by appearing there in person. This slave has brought years of efforts to naught. Baal will be taking over, and we will most likely be exiled. Oh, do not fear, my dove, since you are the niece of one of the greatest priests of Babylon, the exile will be comfortable, if not pleasurable, and I owe this to your person.”

Jamiir bowed before the Queen. She bristled at the implied sarcasm. “Now, my dear Ramel, what should the King do? Excite Baal’s wrath even more by declaring this slave the winner and allow an insurrection to take place? Bahiya was very clear: any insurrection will be crushed without mercy by the Baalites and many will die. The Games will go on tomorrow, and the slave will die. I believe the King has no other choice. If Your Majesty will excuse the King, he is tired.”

Ramel bowed before her husband and withdrew to her private apartments. She could hardly control herself. From the start, she had despised Jamiir for the weakness she perceived in him. He was indecisive, she thought, lacked any will to resist and above all, had fallen under the priestess’ charm. Her marriage encroached on her sense of honor: she, the niece of a high priest of Baal from the eternal city of Babylon, was married to a coward and this at the instigation of the high priestess of Baalbeck. Ramel clenched her fists as she dismissed all her servants. She went out onto her balcony where three candles were burning. She took one of them and lit a fourth. Her features hardened, and had the King been present, he may not have recognized the quiet, soft-spoken Ramel in the woman standing on the balcony. In this obscure twilight of the four flickering candles, Queen Ramel looked like a warrior before battle.

“You surprise me, Daughter. Why these feelings toward the slave now that you know he will die tomorrow?”

Hiyam had just learned from her mother the decision of the Temple of Baal to dispose of Ahiram in the Mine of Meyroon. She lost her composure and stood stricken with grief; her heart plunged in a bitter sea of sadness. It was more than she could bear, and she dropped into her seat, crying.

“What is it, Daughter?” asked Bahiya, even though she already knew the answer.

“I have always admired the men of Baal for their courage and loyalty. But courage and strength such as this, I have never seen. Since the start of these Games, we have used force and deception to break him—a slave. Shame on us. Had we given him a chance to defend himself, I would have felt the honor of Baal would have been upheld, but killing him like a rat? His blood will spill on Baal’s face and on my memory.”

“This is no matter for discussion,” replied Bahiya sternly. “These orders came to us directly from Babylon. Neither you nor I, nor the King, nor anyone else has a choice. It is settled.”

Bahiya stood up and turned her back to her daughter. Hiyam bowed her head. The high priestess continued in a softer tone of voice. “You should go and rest, Daughter. Tomorrow will be a long day for you, and remember, you will be crowned winner of the Games. You will have to behave as a true daughter of Baal. I expect nothing less from you.”

“Mother, why does he have to die? Would it not be better to capture him and bring him as a slave to Baalbeck?”

“And keep him chained between four walls? If he were to escape and come back, the Temple would be shamed.” Bahiya’s voice, which was normally taut as a bow, quivered and fell. Hiyam looked up, surprised, but the weakness, if it ever existed, was now gone. “We cannot allow this to happen. Only death will make him truly silent. Know this, my daughter, the Temple of Baal does not resort to these extreme measures if other options are available. In this case, we cannot see how to avoid bloodshed while keeping him alive. If it is any consolation to you, know that the twelve men of Baal who will be waiting for him in the cave are expert warriors, and his death will be as swift and as painless as possible.”

“Yes Mother, like thieves in the night.”

Before Bahiya could reply, Hiyam left. She wiped her tears and walked toward her room. Unconsciously, Hiyam attributed the weakness in her protective shield and the failure of her magical powers to Ahiram himself. Even though her mother reassured her that this slave could not have access to such high magic and that he suffered, like everyone else, from the geyser this morning, Hiyam could not shake off the idea that somehow, Ahiram was stronger than she. This feeling had turned into respect bordering on awe. She considered him to be a worthy foe, not a mere slave, not a mere nuisance to be rid of. She understood her mother’s decision and that of the Temple’s, but she could not help feeling as if she was murdering an outstanding opponent, and in so doing, dishonoring her name and that of the High Riders. She went into her room, closed the door, and wished that she were miles and miles away by the fountain of the Temple in the cool breeze of the sunset when the grapes are golden ripe and the water is fresh like the laughter of a child. For the first time in her life, Hiyam felt lonely.

Yet, had she seen her mother’s composure after she left, she may have been surprised.

Bahiya was pacing back and forth, her hands on her stomach as if in pain. She was moaning as her tears dripped onto the floor before her. “Be strong, be strong,” she said in a soft voice. “Do what you must.” Finally, unable to contain her sorrow any longer, she collapsed on her bed, burying her head in the soft pillows to muffle her sobs.

“Give up the Games, Ahiram. It is over.” Tanios’ voice resonated in the nearly empty Room of Meetings in the quarters of the Silent. Ahiram was sitting on a chair. Tanios was pacing. Banimelek, Jedarc, and Habael were standing behind Ahiram. “They are going to kill you tomorrow, I am convinced of it,” continued Tanios. “They will most likely do it in the Mine of Meyroon, and make it look like an accident.”

“I can defend myself—”

“Against a patrol or two, maybe, but against thirty or forty hardened High Riders? It would be suicide.” Tanios sighed. “I have arranged for you to hide in the caves beneath the ruins of Taniir-On-High Castle. There is a colony of dwarfs who live there, and they can keep you safe long enough for the entire matter to subside. Once Baal relaxes his surveillance, we will slip you out and away to the northernmost part of the kingdom. In a few years, you would be able to move around like a free man.”

“
Like
a free man?” Ahiram looked at his master, who stopped pacing and looked back. Ahiram stood up. “Commander Tanios, where I come from, there is a saying: ‘Hold a shark captive and it will bind your honor to its cage.’ So it is with me. I cannot give up the Games and hide, for if I do, I would be giving up my honor, and worse, the honor of my family. I knew all along that I might die in these Games, but at least my death would be honorable and meaningful. For what does it mean if a man is forced to live in the shadows, turning his face from the sun that gives him life? He is no more alive than a withered tree still standing in fear of falling down. I will go tomorrow to these Games as I have done today, come what may. If I must die, I entrust you with a message for my father: ‘He was worthy of your trust, and he died upholding your honor.’ Now Commander, with your permission, I should like to retire. I need a good night sleep.”

Ahiram bowed deeply and left the room. Tanios sighed.

“Did you expect anything else, Commander Tanios?” asked Habael.

“No. His stubbornness is as strong as his love for his family.”

“Yes, I know. That is what makes him endearing to us all.”

“He speaks like a free man,” exclaimed Jedarc.

“He has always been free in his mind. He is not one who can be turned into a slave,” replied Tanios gruffly.

“So, what are our options?” asked Banimelek who was growing impatient. He was a man of action, not of discourse.

“My orders are clear: no interventions on our part under severe punishment. I trust I do not need to repeat myself.”

“No, Commander Tanios,” replied both Jedarc and Banimelek.

“Good. Now gentlemen, why do you not accompany Master Habael back to his quarters? It has been a long day.”

“It has indeed,” replied Habael, “and who knows what tomorrow will bear?” With that, the three men bowed before Tanios and left.

“Tell me, my dear Banimelek,” asked Habael, “what do you make of this third dead man in your quarters?”

“I’d like to meet the killer face-to-face,” replied Banimelek angrily.

“Yes, indeed,” replied Master Habael, smiling. “Does the location strike you as peculiar?”

“I have not given it much thought, Master Habael,” replied Banimelek, who was a warrior, a strategist, and an exceptional athlete, but was not one to ponder mysteries to uncover their deeper meaning.

“What about you, my dear Jedarc?” asked Habael.

“It does,” said Jedarc softly. “If I wanted to kill a hornet, I would certainly not do it in a beehive.”

“Well said,” replied Master Habael. “Well said, indeed.”

They walked silently until they reached Habael’s modest quarters in the servants’ area on the first floor. As Banimelek and Jedarc bowed to bid him good night, Habael touched their shoulders lightly.

“Earlier on,” he said, “I spoke with Commander Tanios, and you might be interested to know that ‘severe punishment’ means a temporary relocation to the northeastern Fortress of Hardeen.”

Banimelek and Jedarc looked at each other and then at Habael.

“That would be dreadful, Master Habael,” said Banimelek, grinning.

“Most dreadful, indeed,” echoed Jedarc.

“My thought exactly,” replied Habael. “Well gentlemen, good night. I trust this is going to be a rather busy night for you. What with the surveillance of the castle and all other matters, is it not so?”

“Very busy, indeed,” replied Banimelek. They bowed and left. On their way back to their quarters, Banimelek looked at his friend.

“Well, Jedarc, how do you like the northeastern breeze?”

“I love it, I simply do. The sun, the sea, and the Empyreans. I don’t know if they are prettier than Hiyam, but I would not want to miss out on the wedding.”

“The wedding? What wedding?” asked Banimelek.

Jedarc stood before his friend and bowed. “The wedding of Banimelek to a ravishing and beautiful Empyrean princess.”

Banimelek put his arm around his friend’s shoulder, and the two of them traveled down the halls whistling an old song about war, glory, and bravery—and about the wedding of an Empyrean and a hero.