Gods of Green Mountain (43 page)

So they met once more, all the officials, all the important dignitaries and noblemen, with their families seated above in the tiered balconies of the grand oval council room. And very proudly the king ushered in his beautiful daughter, splendidly gowned in blue trimmed with fine lacings of silver and gold, and on her magnificent hair she wore the tiniest of crowns. The queen, seated upon the first balcony, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, beamed with a pride equal to her husband's.

She was applauded after her father's introduction, and stood very solemnly looking over the many faces at the council table, though she refused to let her eyes meet with those who challenged her to stop, think, consider. She heard him whisper, "Please, Sharita, think of our future together." Even to that she closed her mind. She would have her say, regardless of what happened next.

With great difficulty and stumbling words, she began her story of ugly horror and saw the faces about her turn grim and chastising, not wanting to listen, not wanting to hear, not wanting to believe she was in any way justified for what she had done. The face of her beloved father turned almost gray, and his hand lifted to his forehead as if he had an overwhelming headache. She pitied him, loved him, cried for him, knowing well what he was suffering now.

"So," Sharita concluded, "now you know the true story of why Mark-Kan didn't return. His was no heroic death! He brought about his own end by falling on the knife I held clenched fast between my knees, while I attempted to saw the ropes apart that bound my wrists.

"You may wonder why I didn't let this ugliness stay hidden behind the considerate story Captain Dray-Gon concocted to protect me. Yet I cannot do that, remain quiet like all the other passive, unresisting women who allow this crime against their bodies, rather than strike out and protect themselves. I am compelled to speak out and tell the truth, in an effort to make all of you here see that some of our rules are unjust to women. It has always been so, since the very beginning. My grandmothers were forced into marriage at the earliest possible ages, ten, eleven, twelve. And once married to a man chosen by their fathers, whether or not they wanted that husband, they were expected to bear as many children as possible, one after another. And who cared if those young women died from the complications of so much childbearing? No one cared. Always female babies have outnumbered males. My sex has always been considered expendable, of no intrinsic value! What made Baka a man famous in our history? Was it that he fathered Far-Awn? Or was it that he was, and still is, the only man who has fathered twelve sons in succession, with only one daughter to spoil his record?

"Which of you really care now about the violence that was done to me? Brutality that was committed while I was sick and half-sedated with medicine. You say to yourselves now, because I see it on your faces, that I should have submitted, and yielded to Mark-Kan, and said nothing to no one, because rape is a common little offense committed every day against some woman. And if she isn't your daughter or your wife or your sister or niece or mother--then none of you care! And how are these men punished, who force women to submit against their will? They are taken out in a public square and given ten lashes on their bare backs!--and the next day they go out and do the same thing over again, and it is considered a joke, an
honor
to receive as many public whippings as possible!"

"You are a killer!" someone yelled when the princess paused for breath. "A murderess! You deserve the same punishment as any killer! Exile the princess, throw her out on the wildlands, let her survive--if she can!"

"Silence!" roared the king, slamming down his fist on the table. "My daughter has the floor. Let her finish her speech--and if anyone interrupts, they will be thrown into the dungeons!"

Sharita glanced about, her face gone very pale, and slightly she trembled. "You have heard me called a murderess, for even though I am a princess, I am still just a woman, with no right to resist a man's lust, or make an attempt at protecting myself." Now she looked directly at Mark-Kan's grim-faced father. "I am sorry Mark-Kan is dead. I am sorry I was the one to bring about his ultimate fate. But he was the one who planned in advance to kidnap me and turn me over to the outlaws to hold for ransom, a ransom that he expected to share. He even hinted that you, his father, knew and approved of his plan."

"You lie!" shouted Mark-Kan's father.

"Quiet!" ordered the king. "Let Her Highness finish--or I will do as I threatened."

"Mark-Kan's crime was not one of passion and lust. It was calculated, an idea conceived to cause the worst possible friction between Upper and Lower El Dorraine. I think if my father investigates further into the political reasons behind my attempted abduction, he will find a few here at this table guilty. But that is my father's dilemma. Mine is an attempt to change the laws of our land, so that a woman won't have to stay hidden and guarded in her own home, so that she can walk down our avenues not afraid every second she is going to be brutally attacked, while secretly, all you men believe it is not brutality at all, that there are women who actually enjoy this sort of degradation. Well, I am one who does
not
enjoy it, and if ever again I find myself in the same position, I will pick up the nearest weapon, and I will use it!"

The princess sat down, as all others jumped to their feet, yelling, screaming out angry accusations, and no one yelled louder than Mark-Kan's father. He called out for her to be tried and judged, and banished to live outside of the city domes! "She has killed my first son! Death is the ultimate crime--whether or not it is accidental!"

The king signaled his guards, and they advanced now with their weapons pointed, weapons that would paralyze the nervous system temporarily, not kill. In the face of these pointed weapons, the uproar in the council room dwindled to whispers, and the whispers into silence.

Now, in the deadly quiet, Dray-Gon stood. "Your majesty, I would like now to correct a few errors in the Princess Sharita's story. Will you give me the opportunity?"

"Go ahead," said the king drily, thinking nothing could make the situation worse.

Sharita glared at Dray-Gon as he began, but he heeded her no more than she had heeded him. "Everything is true the princess said, except for a few minor details. Mark-Kan did steal her from her tent while she was sick and sedated. He did carry her back to where we had left the wagons, but the Princess did not kill Mark-Kan. I did. She was struggling with him when I entered her wagon, and it was I who used the knife. She has confessed to killing Mark-Kan so that I would not be judged and sentenced to exile. Being a princess, she did not think you would treat her in the same way as a common criminal. She foolishly believed you would find some admirable justification in a woman making an attempt to defend herself and her virtue, but nevertheless it was I who wielded the murder weapon!"

"You lie!" cried out Sharita, rising to her feet, and putting her small hands on Dray-Gon's shoulders, and trying to shake him forcefully from his story. "How dare you do this? I won't let you! You weren't there at all the hour Mark-Kan died!"

"You see," said Dray-Gon in a calm way as he grasped her hands and pulled her into his tight embrace, "the princess loves me and would protect me, but I will not hide behind her skirts and let her be punished when I am the murderer!"

Again the king was forced to call for silence. "Where is the truth in all of this?" Ras-Far asked in great agitation, his head a mountain of growing pain.

Arth-Rin gained his feet and spoke in deep earnestness: "Your majesty, it is as Captain Dray-Gon says. He was the one who killed Mark-Kan. Ask my man here who traveled with us to the Mountain, and they will tell you: It was our captain and not the princess who slew Mark-Kan, though we will also tell you, we believe that too was an accidental murder, not premeditated or contrived but entirely justified."

Each emissary to talk with the Gods was queried, and each swore he told the truth. "Yes, it was Captain Dray-Gon who killed Mark-Kan when he tried to rape our princess, after he had kidnapped her."

Then it was Mark-Kan's father who jumped again to his feet, his face purple with rage as his eyes snapped: "Oh, what foolery is this! First it is reported my son fell with his horshet over a crater rim--and then the princess says he kidnapped her, then beat her and she slew him. Then all this is denied, and Ron Ka's son rises to tell us
he
is the killer of my son! Lies, all lies! How are we to believe any of their tales now? How do we know they really did reach the Green Mountain and talked to a huge god? A god with an incredible tale to tell! And what is more, that this God has reasoned that we are
all
responsible for the demise of Bari-Bar, and that we must cultivate our wildlands and make them a part of our civilization. Why? Well, I will tell you why--just so the princess and her captain can't be banished to the wildlands to live as outlaws for killing my son! There is no god living in that Green Mountain! It is all a falsehood conceived to protect the killer of my son!"

Dray-Gon turned to face the father of Mark-Kan. "Are you standing there and telling me to my face that I have lied, that the princess has lied, that all the sons of the most eminent men of Upper and Lower El Dorraine have lied when they said they spoke to the God?"

"Yes!" flared Mark-Kan's father. "Your story is all too pat, to save your own skin!"

"Suppose I can prove to you there is a god, taller than a mountain, would you then believe I am the genuine killer of your son? I am perfectly willing to be banished to live out my life as an outlaw--and you can, if you choose, deny all that the God has proclaimed about turning our wildlands into cultivated fields. Or you can wait until you hear that I am dead before you begin to follow his instructions."

Tumescent emotions suffused the face of Mark-Kan's father. He floundered helplessly before he broke, and tears streamed from his eyes. "Whatever proof you show me will not bring back my son!" he choked.

The king spoke in gentle tones: "Yes, this is true, Rallo Kan. The dead don't return, even if the guilty are punished. Still I myself would very much like to see this proof that Captain Dray-Gon speaks of, though I believe every word of his story, without the proof."

Dray-Gon signaled to Raykin, and all eighteen of the bakaret's sons excused themselves and left the table. While they waited for their return, Sharita tried desperately to force Dray-Gon's eyes to meet with hers, but he stared solemnly over the heads of everyone as all waited in pregnant silence.

Then, through the great open doors of the council room, entered the eighteen young travelers, so recently returned from the Green Mountain. Borne on their shoulders was a huge platform, and on the center of that was a most mammoth round ring, with a sparkling ruby stone.

"It is the god's gift to you, your majesty," said Dray-Gon, "a ring from his smallest finger, for he feared that some here might not believe our story. And on that platform, please notice that long length of what appears to be wire--it is a dark hair from his head, the ultimate proof that he does exist."

This was proof no one could deny, not even Mark-Kan's father, who stood and quaked at the size of that ring, and that single hair. "What does this solve, except that there is a God? Will the murderer of my son go unpunished?" he cried.

"The murderer will be tried and punished," said the king. "It is the law, and even the decisions of gods have to wait until men change the laws and write new ones."

Feeling trapped, helpless, and betrayed, Sharita watched as Dray-Gon was led away surrounded by palace guards. The cabinet ministers and bakarets at the council table came and patted shoulders in fatherly, comforting ways, speaking of how brave and unselfish she was, to try and protect the man she loved. Indeed, they were proud to have her for their princess.

Sharita turned her teary eyes on her father. "Your majesty, Father, do I ever lie?" she asked as tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Sssh," he cautioned. "We will speak of this later."

Dray-Gon Banished

W
ith the word of eighteen young men to swear that Captain Dray-Gon was guilty of the murder of Mark-Kan, though each stated passionately it was unequivocal, justifiable murder, and not premeditated--Dray-Gon was found guilty, and sentenced to live out the remainder of his life outside of the city domes on the wildlands, with the other outlaws.

Kept a prisoner in her tower apartment, the princess could only hear of Dray-Gon's trial secondhand, through the king. "Father, he isn't guilty!" she cried out time and time again, while the king turned deaf ears her way. "Mark-Kan was dead long before Dray-Gon rode up with Arth-Rin and Raykin to rescue me!"

Ras-Far pitied her, comforted her, tried to soothe her, and rationalized it was far, far better for a strong young man like Dray-Gon to be banished to the mercies of the wildlands than a mere girl, who would soon be captured and made a slave to the outlaws. "My darling, sweet, only child, give me some relief! Can I turn you out, and deny Dray-Gon this magnanimous, self-sacrificing gesture he is making on your behalf? I know he is not guilty. I know you too are not guilty of Mark-Kan's death. But I will not see you punished for an accidental murder that Mark-Kan well deserved. Give me time, and I will solve this problem, and reunite you with Dray-Gon."

"But the outlaws will hear of his trial, they will be waiting outside the city gates, and they will tear him limb from limb! You will reunite me with a dead man."

"I will do the best I can for him, to see that he has means of survival," said the king, grown tired and on edge from facing one impossible situation after another. "Then let me go with him," pleaded Sharita, "we can both return to the home of the God and live there with him in safety."

"Impossible!" Ras-Far roared, out of patience. "How could the two of you make it there alone? And I will not have you go so far from me! You are my solace and my comfort in my old age, Sharita. Think once in a while about my happiness!"