The Blood-stained Belt (39 page)

I asked, 'Is
that the only option?'

Sharma's eyes
were red and his voice was thick. It looked as if he was suffering
from a hangover or recovering from a fever. He said irritably, 'We
have no choice, man. They have provoked us beyond endurance.'

'Perhaps one
more diplomatic mission could –'

Sharma banged
one fist into another and shouted, 'No more talking! No more
diplomacy! They'll have to learn that we are not to be trifled with
– and they'll learn the hard way.'

'Perhaps if we
just recovered the livestock and burned a few villages –'

'I tell you,
Jina, no more shilly-shallying!' Sharma eyed me narrowly, pushed a
finger at me, and asked, 'Isn't the army ready for a campaign? Is
that what you’re afraid of?'

'Of course it's
ready.'

'But not as
ready as it should be, eh?'

'What are you
talking about?'

'What have the
troops been doing for the last five years? Maneuvers, border
patrols, parades and sitting in their barracks, that's what!
They're getting soft and complacent.' Sharma walked over to the
wall map and then turned and said with finality, 'They need a
proper campaign to get them up to the mark again and, by Zabrazal,
that's what they're going to get.'

I sighed
inwardly and sat down to plan the campaign with Sharma.

When Sharma
said 'a proper campaign', he meant nothing less than sacking
Fewerla, the capital city of Usserd. As I knew right from the
beginning, it was easy enough to sit at Sharma's conference table
and plan the campaign but it was a lot more difficult to make
progress on the ground. It took us three months to fight our way as
far as the walls of Fewerla and even when we got there we had to
guard our rear against attacks by the irregular forces of the
various chiefs whom we had defeated along the way. Usserd was a
federation of tribal authorities that owed a loose allegiance to
the king in Fewerla and each chief had his own armed forces. It was
like fighting a many-headed, self-replicating snake – lop off one
head and another would spit at you. Lop off that one and other
heads would be resuscitating themselves, ready to strike again.

While we
settled down for the siege of Fewerla, I sent a message to Sharma,
asking him to reconsider his order to sack the city. I had enough
experience of sieges to know that they could be demoralising.
Sitting around in camp made the men slack and dissolute. Then, if
we attempted an assault and were thrown back, there would be
muttered complaints about the injuries and deaths that were
sustained without profit or gain. All in all, I didn't like sieges.
I suggested to Sharma that we should settle with the King of Usserd
according to terms favourable to us, by which we would more than
recover the costs of our campaign as well as extract a large
penalty.

Sharma replied
that he hadn't changed his mind. His resolve was as firm as ever –
Fewerla should be sacked and the King of Usserd should be brought
back to Keirine dead or alive. I also received a heavily sealed
letter in which Sharma berated me for questioning his instructions
that Fewerla should be captured and sacked and asked if I would
like to be relieved of my command of the expedition. If not, then I
should proceed immediately with an assault on the city. Finally,
Sharma wrote that he explicitly ordered that Zaliek, as the most
experienced of my commanders, should lead the first wave of
assault.

When I took
Zaliek aside and told him about Sharma's instruction, he raised his
eyebrows and said, 'During an assault, a commander's place is
behind his men so that he can direct them properly.'

I said
irritably, 'I know that, but –'

'But Sharma is
the king and we disobey his instructions at our peril, eh?' Zaliek
shrugged fatalistically and picked up his helmet. He said, 'If
Sharma wants an immediate assault, I'd better get things
organised.'

'I'm sorry,
Zaliek. It’s not --'

'Sorry about
what, General Jina?'

'You know that
this isn't the way that I would arrange matters.'

Zaliek shrugged
again. He turned to go, stopped, and said, 'This is a dangerous
business. If anything happens to me, will you make sure that Shani
gets the pension that is due to her?'

‘Don’t be so
pessimistic.’

‘Will you see
to it, if I don’t come back?’

'I will. You
know that.'

Zaliek nodded
with melancholy satisfaction and said, 'Oh, and perhaps you could
use your influence to see that my son is admitted to the Academy of
Philosophy. Remember, I don't want him to be a soldier. One of us
in the family is enough.'

I said
brusquely, 'Get out of here, Zaliek. You're the great survivor. Go
and do what you have to do and I'll have a cup of wine with you
this evening when it's all over.'

Zaliek nodded
somberly and walked away, buckling his helmet as he went.

We didn't have
that cup of wine together because Zaliek was killed in the first
wave of the assault. He fought his way up the ladder and led the
way onto the walls where he was left in an isolated position when
the defenders threw back the ladder. Watching the assault, I saw
Zaliek fighting desperately on the battlements, his back to the
wall. I rushed forward to take personal charge, trying to get a
ladder onto the wall at the spot where Zaliek was defending
himself. However, even as the men struggled to raise the ladder, I
knew that it was too late. When I looked up again, Zaliek had
disappeared and all that we could see was a group of jeering
defenders. Five minutes later, they threw his severed head over the
wall. The eyes had been gouged out.

God, the longer
I live, the more I suspect that we are no more than insects that
crawl across the face of the earth awaiting our turn to be crushed
underfoot by a higher boot. In Zaliek's case, the higher boot was
Sharma's and, as I found out later, the reason was Sharma's lust
for Shani. Not long after we left on the expedition against Usserd,
Sharma was relaxing on the rooftop terrace of his palace enjoying
the usual draught of wine in the cool of the evening. The palace
was the highest building in Koraina and Sharma had a good view of
the surrounding rooftops. At the same time as Sharma was lolling
about, enjoying his evening rest, Shani was taking a bath on the
terrace on the roof of her house. Taking a bath on the roof?
Whoever does that, especially when the terrace can be overlooked
from nearby vantage points? Oh, I can picture the scene well enough
– Shani luxuriating in the tub, keeping a weather eye on the roof
of the palace while studiously pretending to be giving all her
attention to the serious business of bathing. Once she knew that
Sharma was up there, she would have frolicked innocently in the tub
– a show of leg here, a breast there – while chatting and joking
with her maid. Next, I can picture Shani stepping out of the tub,
facing the palace and stretching luxuriantly, tousling her hair,
while her maid toweled her back. After that, she would probably
have turned slowly – pirouetted, more likely -- just to make sure
that Sharma got a good look at what she was offering. Pha! I could
go on but already I feel sick to my stomach – Zaliek and the rest
of us risking our lives in dirt and discomfort, while Sharma and
Shani were engaged in their tableau of lust – pha!

It doesn't take
a soothsayer to predict what happened next. That very night, Sharma
took Shani to his bed and, finding her nubility to his liking, he
bedded her on many nights after that. Before we reached the walls
of Fewerla, Shani was pregnant. Shortly after that, her husband was
dead and Sharma comforted the grieving widow by marrying her.

What would I
have done if I had known about the matter when I received Sharma's
order that Zaliek should be placed in the front line of the
assault? Would I have told Zaliek about what was going on behind
his back? Would I have carried out my instructions or would I have
disobeyed them? I've thought about the matter hundreds of times, if
not more, and almost always I conclude that the result would have
been the same. I would have obeyed orders – but, knowing what I
did, I would have made absolutely sure that Zaliek would have been
killed without leaving anything at all to chance. How would honest,
gruff, plain Zaliek have lived with the betrayal and the shame and
how much damage would he have done to himself and others if he had
survived?

When I heard
about what had been going on between Sharma and Shani, I was so
disgusted that at first I felt like going straight back to Koraina
to confront Sharma. However, when I thought about the matter more
coolly, I knew that I had a more immediate priority. I wanted to
requite the death of Zaliek and slake the iron-cold hatred in my
soul by dealing with the city of Fewerla. By Zabrazal, I would give
Sharma what he wanted – the destruction of the city -- and then I
would turn my back on him. He would have what he wanted but he
would never again have me.

That night, I
dreamed about Shani. Lying on top of the bed, dressed seductively
in a flimsy night-gown, she spread her arms to welcome me. Fired by
lust, I went to her eagerly, entwining my body with hers and
panting with desire as I ran my hands up and down the smooth skin
of her back and pressed her breasts to my chest. She moaned and bit
my shoulder in passion. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling its
sweet scent, when I suddenly felt her body go rigid. I looked at
her. She was staring at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror. I twisted
around and looked up. There on the ceiling was an image of Zaliek's
severed, eyeless head. I awoke with a cry of fear and disgust – but
whether for Zaliek, Shani, or myself, I could not say.

When we did
finally subdue the city about a week later, I led the final
assault. My message to the men was simple – no mercy to anyone
except for the king, who was to be captured alive if possible. Once
we got inside the city, there were scenes of carnage and
destruction that made what happened at Asjolorm pale into
insignificance. For me, the difference was that at Asjolorm I had
felt pity and distaste after a few minutes of carnage. However,
inside the walls of Fewerla I was filled with such rage that my
sword and dagger could not find enough victims to satisfy their
lust. Our assault was so ruthless that only one inhabitant of
Fewerla escaped alive and that was the king, who was taken back to
Koraina as planned.

After we burned
the city, I would even have razed the walls if we had had the time
or the means. Then, before we left the scene, I ordered my
commanders to go through their men's packs, searching for loot.
Whatever they found was confiscated, either to be burned or to be
thrown into a nearby tar-pit. There were protests not only from the
men but also from the commanders. However, I remained adamant. I
told them that Sharma had said that we should only bring the king
back with us and that was exactly what we would do. Of course, that
was wasn't exactly what Sharma had said – but, then, who besides
the two of us knew what he had told me? My rage was now focused on
Sharma. I would be happy to leave him with no booty and with a
restless army.

The victory
parade in Koraina, with the King of Usserd as showpiece, was the
greatest that had been seen since the last Dornite city fell to our
army. I led the procession, resplendent in my general's regalia,
playing out my role to the last. When we stopped in front of the
palace to be welcomed by Sharma, I saw that Shani was sitting at
Sharma's right hand. She looked radiant. Well, why not? She had not
only progressed from being a waitress in a tavern to being the
favoured consort of a king but, more than that, she was cementing
her position by carrying his child. Not surprisingly, the other two
people on the dais weren't looking as happy. Roda was sitting on
Sharma's left hand, trying to look gracious but not succeeding. On
her left was Mecolo, who wasn't even trying to look as if she was
enjoying the occasion. On the contrary – she looked sallow and
sunken. Briefly, I remembered the young Mecolo who had danced
before us when we returned from the first battle of Gandonda,
bearing the head of Drunuk before us. I recalled what she had sung
that day:

Sharma of
Osicedi, soldier of Keirine,

On a lance he
bears Drunuk high.

Jina of
Osicedi, comrade of Sharma,

With his sword
he laid Drunuk low.

Well, today
Mecolo wasn't singing and dancing and I wouldn't be Sharma's
comrade for much longer. What about the severed head? For a moment
I thought grimly that I should have paraded the head of Zaliek
before the smug pair sitting on the dais. By Zabrazal, I would have
done it, too, except that the head was a long way from Koraina,
buried outside the walls of Fewerla under a memorial cairn that we
raised to our dead comrade.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR: QUESTIONS

Next day, I
went to see Sharma to tell him that I was resigning my commission
and leaving Keirine. While I was waiting, the door to the council
chamber opened and someone stamped out. I recognised him as a
priest named Isahile. When I greeted him, he gave me a look of
half-recognition, muttered something churlish, and went on his way.
Isahile was the nearest that there had been to a high priest since
Izebol died about twenty years earlier. When the priests convened
to elect a new high priest, Sharma told them that he thought it
would be wiser if they waited for a few years to ensure that they
made the right choice. They decided to go ahead anyway after
issuing a statement that Zabrazal was lord over all of Keirine, the
king included, and that the priests would not tolerate any attempt
to interfere with their authority. Sharma reacted by detaining all
of the senior members of the convocation on the grounds that they
were usurping his authority. Since then, there had been no further
attempts to appoint a high priest.