Servant of the Bones (15 page)

“I didn’t wait for his answer. I turned and I left. I turned my back on him as it were. I dismissed him, sadly, I think, and rudely and thoughtlessly and I had a sense of him hovering near me, watching me, as I went on.

“I went through the temple, in the convincing shape of a man, challenged again and again by guards whom I threw off with my right hand. A spear passed through my back. A sword passed through my body. I felt nothing, but merely looked at the perplexed and miserable assailant. I walked on.

“I walked into the palace and I walked towards the chambers of the King. His guards fell on me and I stepped through them, feeling this no more than a shudder and saw them stumble behind me, and then I looked up and saw Marduk watching from afar.

“I went into the King’s chamber. Cyrus was in bed with a beautiful harlot, and when he saw me, he leapt up naked from the bed.

“ ‘Do you know me?’ I said. ‘What do you see?’

“ ‘Azriel!’ he declared, and then with genuine joy he said, ‘Azriel, you’ve cheated death, they’ve saved you, oh, my son, my son.’

“This was so heartfelt and honest that I was stunned. He came towards me but as he put his arms around me he realized I was nothing, only the appearance of something solid, as a shell more or less, or even lighter than that, a bubble on the surface of the water so light it could explode. But it did not. I
did not. I merely felt his heavy strong arms around me and then he backed away from me.

“ ‘Yes, I am dead, Lord King,’ I said. ‘And all that is left of me is here in this sack, and covered with gold. Now you must repay me.’

“ ‘How, Azriel?’ he asked.

“ ‘Who is the greatest sorcerer in all the world? Surely Cyrus knows. Is the strongest and wisest of wise men in Persia? In Ionia? Or is he in Lydia? Tell me where he is. I am a horror. I am a horror! Even Marduk fears me now! Who is the wisest man, Cyrus, to whom you would trust your own damned soul if you stood here as I do!’

“He sank down on the side of the bed. The harlot meantime had covered herself with the sheets and merely stared. Marduk came silently into the room, and though his face was no longer cold with suspicion it lacked the warmth we’d always shared.

“ ‘I know who it is,’ said Cyrus. ‘Of all the wizards ever paraded before me, only this man had true power and simplicity of soul.’

“ ‘Send me to him. I look human, do I not? I look alive? Send me to him.’

“ ‘I will,’ he said. ‘He is in Miletus, where he roams the markets daily, purchasing manuscripts from all the world, he is in the great Greek port city, gathering to himself knowledge. He says the purpose of all life is to know and to love.’

“ ‘You are saying then that he is a good man?’

“ ‘Don’t you want a good man?’

“ ‘I hadn’t even thought of it,’ I said.

“ ‘What about your own people?’

“The question confused me. In one instant I knew a whole list of names and I could smell skin and hair, and then the identity of these beings was gone. ‘My own people? Do I have people?’ I tried desperately to backtrack, to recover my memory. How had I come to this room! I could remember the cauldron. I could remember that woman but what was her name, and the priest I’d slain, the god, the good gentle god who stood there, invisible to the King, who was he?

“ ‘You are Cyrus, King of Persia and Babylonia, King of all
the world,’ I said. I was horrified that I did not know the names of those I loved, for surely I had only moments ago. And that old woman who had died, I had known her all my life! I turned and looked around the room in confusion. It was filled with offerings, gifts from noble families of all Babylonia. I saw a casket, made of cedar and gold. It wasn’t big. I went to it, and opened it.

“The King watched speechless. Inside were plate and goblets.

“ ‘Take them if you wish,’ said Cyrus, very well masking his fear. ‘Let me call my Seven Wise Men to me.’

“ ‘I want the casket only,’ said I. I emptied out the contents gently, so as not to dent these precious things and then I held the cedar box and I could smell the cedar beneath the red silk padding that lined it. I tore open the poor linen sack and into this casket I first put the tablet with all its writing, including words I hadn’t even read aloud yet, and then I laid down gently my bones.

“I wasn’t even finished when the beautiful harlot had come, and she put out a golden silk veil. ‘Here, to wrap them,’ she said. ‘To cushion them.’ I took it and it wrapped the bones, and she brought me another of deep purple, and I accepted that and wrapped them more securely so that when the casket moved now they wouldn’t make any sound. I had scarcely looked at them.

“ ‘Send me into them, Cyrus,’ I said. ‘Send me into the bones!’

“Cyrus shook his head.

“Marduk spoke up. ‘Azriel, go yourself into them and then come out again, do it now or you will never be able to do it, or you will never know. This is the advice of a spirit, Azriel. Cast aside all the particles that make up your form and seek the darkness and if you cannot come out, I will call you forth.’

“The King who could neither hear nor see Marduk was confused. Once again he mentioned his Seven Wise Men, and indeed, I could hear men outside the chamber, I could hear their whispering.

“ ‘Don’t let them enter, Lord,’ I said. ‘Wise men are liars; priests are liars; gods are liars!’

“ ‘I understand you, Azriel,’ said Cyrus. ‘You are an angel of might or demon of might. I don’t know which, but no ordinary wise man can guide you.’

“I looked to Marduk.

“ ‘Go into the bones,’ he said. ‘I promise to use all my power to bring you out. See if you can seek refuge there as I do in my statue. You must have refuge!’

“I bowed my head. ‘Into the bones, until I will myself to return; all of you that are parts of me, you are to remain near and wait for me till I summon you.’

“A huge wind caught the bed hangings. The harlot ran to the King and he quietly enfolded her in his arms. And I felt immense and any—indeed I touched the walls and the ceiling and the four corners of the painted room and then the whirlwind tightened around me, and I felt the intolerable press of the howling, screaming souls. ‘No, you don’t, damn you!’ I shouted. ‘The bones, I have the refuge of my own bones. I go into my bones.’

“There was darkness. Perfect darkness and stillness. I drifted. It was the sweetest rest I had ever known. Only I should do something now, should I not? But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. And then came the voice of Marduk,

“ ‘Servant of the Bones, rise and take form.’

“Of course, that was what I had to do, and I did it. It was like a deep intake of breath and then a soundless shout. I found myself again a tolerably perfect replica of Azriel standing beside the open casket and the golden bones. My body shimmered in my own eyes and then grew steady. I felt the cool air as if I had never known it before.

“I looked at Cyrus. I looked at Marduk. I knew now that if I entered into the bones, I didn’t have the power to return. But what did it matter? There was velvet sleep. There was the sleep you sleep when you are a boy and lie on the warm grass of a hill and the breeze strokes you, and you have no cares in all the world.

“ ‘Lord King,’ I said, ‘I beg you. I will go now back into the bones. Send them in this casket with the tablet to your wise man in Miletus. Do that for me, and if you do betray me, what
of it? I won’t know. Someone else…has betrayed me, but I can’t remember who it is…’

“He came forward to kiss me. The kiss was on the lips in the Persian style of kings and equals. I turned and looked at Marduk.

“ ‘Marduk, come with me, I can’t remember what is between us except that it was always good.’

“ ‘I haven’t the power, Azriel,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s as the Lord King Cyrus says. You are what the Magi call an angel of might or a demon of might. I have no such power. The tender flame of my thoughts is fed by the people of Babylon who believe in me and pray to me. Even in captivity, the devotion of my captors sustained me. I can’t go with you. I don’t even know how.’

“His brow became furrowed. ‘But why trust any man, even a King?’ he asked. ‘Take the casket yourself and go where you would…’

“ ‘No. Look, even now the body quavers. I am newborn and not that strong. I can’t. I have to trust in…Cyrus, King of the Persians, and if he would get rid of me, if he would be as vile to me and as cruel to me as all those whom I loved, if he would do that, I will find a way for vengeance, won’t I, great King?’

“ ‘I won’t give you cause,’ said Cyrus. ‘Turn your hatred from me. It wounds me. I can feel it.’

“ ‘So can I,’ I said. ‘And it feels divine to hate! To be angry! To destroy!’

“I took a step towards him.

“He didn’t move an inch. He stared at me, and I felt myself gently transfixed, unable to do anything really but look into his eyes. I didn’t try very hard to oppose him, but I felt his domination, rooted in fearlessness and victory, and I stood still.

“ ‘Trust in me, Azriel, for today you made me King of the World, and I will see that you are taken to the Magus who will teach you all a spirit can be taught.’

“ ‘King of the World? Did I do that for you, beautiful man?’ I asked. I shook myself all over. Of course, I knew him. I knew the drama. The lion’s breath.

“But then I didn’t. I knew nothing.

“Marduk spoke up, but by now Marduk was merely a spirit standing there, friendly and good.

“ ‘Azriel, do you know who I am?’

“ ‘A friend, a spirit friend?’

“ ‘What more?’

“I was anguished. ‘I don’t remember,’ I said. I told him that I could remember the cauldron, murdering that nameless priest and the dead old woman. I knew the King. I knew him. But I couldn’t really remember. I caught the sudden scent of roses. I looked down and saw the floor was littered with petals.

“ ‘Give them to him,’ said Cyrus, pointing to the petals as he spoke to the harlot.

“And the sweet gentle harlot gathered up the petals in handfuls.

“ ‘Put them in the casket for me,’ I said. ‘What is this city? Where are we?’

“ ‘Babylon,’ said Cyrus.

“ ‘And you are sending me to Miletus to a great wizard. I must know and remember his name.’

“ ‘He’ll call you,’ said Cyrus.

“I took one last look at them. I walked to the windows which were open to the river and I looked out and I thought, What a beautiful city this is, it is so filled with burning lights tonight, and so much laughter and merriment.

“Without raising my voice, I dissolved my form once more, raging at the souls as they surrounded me and plunged again into the velvet blackness, only this time I could smell the roses, and with the roses there came a memory, a memory of a procession, and people cheering and crying, and waving, and a handsome man singing with a beautiful voice, and petals tossed so high they showered down on us, on our shoulders…but the memory faded.

“I was not to remember these moments, these things, what I have told here for two thousand years.”

Azriel sat back.

It was almost daylight.

He closed his eyes.

“You have to rest now, Jonathan,” he said, “or you’ll be sick again, and I must sleep, and I fear what will happen. But I’m tired, tired!”

“Where are the bones, Azriel?” I asked.

“That I’ll tell you when we wake. I’ll tell you everything that happened with Esther, with Gregory and the Temple of the Mind. I’ll tell you…”

He seemed too weary to continue.

He stood up and then very firmly helped me up from the chair. “You must drink more broth, Jonathan.”

He gave it to me, from a cup by the hearth, and I drank it, and then he helped me into the small bathroom of the cabin and politely he turned his back as I made water, and then he helped me to bed.

I was shaking badly. My throat was thick, my tongue swollen.

I could see that he was in great anxiety. The telling of the tale had been an ordeal.

He must have read my sympathy. “I’ll never tell it again to anyone else,” he said. “I don’t ever want to say it again, I don’t ever want to see the boiling cauldron—” His voice dried up.

He shook his head and his thick hair to wake himself, and then he helped me into the bed. He made me drink more cool water, which was very good.

“Don’t fear for me,” I said. “I’m well. Only a little tired, a little weak.” I took one last deep drink of water then offered the bottle to him and he drank more deeply. And he smiled.

“What can I do for you now?” I asked. “You’re my guest and my protector.”

“Would you let me sleep beside you?” he said. “As if we were just boys together in the field, so that…that…so that…if the whirlwind comes for me, so that if the souls come, I can reach out and touch your warm hand.”

I nodded. He put me under the covers, and then he climbed in beside me. I turned towards him and he faced away. I put my arm over him. The red velvet robe he wore felt comfortable and thick and warm. I had my arm around him. He went
limp, as it were, in the covers, his head deep into the pillow, the big mass of black curls close to my face, and smelling of the clean air outside and the sweet smoke from the fire.

The sunlight was just creeping under the door. And I could tell by its brightness and the warmth of the room that the snowstorm had slacked off. The fire was healthy. The morning was quiet.

I woke once at noon.

I was hot and mumbling and having a horrible dream. He lifted me up and gave me a big drink of cool water. He had put snow in it, and it tasted clean. I drank and drank, and then I lay back down.

He seemed to shimmer, a figure clad in red with deep black eyes. His beard and hair looked silky, and I thought of all the old texts that tell of ointments and oils and perfumes for hair; his hair was worthy of all that, I thought. There came back to me a panorama of the wall carvings I’d seen all over the world.

I saw the great Assyrian carvings in the British Museum. I saw the pictures in books. “The black-headed people,” that was what the Sumerians had called themselves. And we had come from them, or somehow mingled in them, and I knew now that those strange carvings of bearded kings in robes were nearer to me than European emblems I’d cherished as familiar when in fact they mattered very little at all.