The Forgotten Tale Of Larsa (2 page)

‘A woman who understands love is far wiser than a man who understands only war; our kingdom is blessed to have you as its ruler, and I’m blessed to have you as my wife.’

‘But is that truly enough? I’m a queen by birthright, not by honour or wisdom. I’ve never seen war as you have, or lived the life of an ordinary woman; I don’t know anything about hardship. All I’ve ever known are these walls, and the stories told by those inside them.’

‘Men would trade their lives not to experience battle: you’re blessed, not cursed, Larsa. You need to use this gift to your advantage – speak of peace as the friend it is, not as an enemy.’

She knew Marmicus was right. Even so, it failed to settle her nerves; the inauguration ceremony was fast approaching, and she didn’t have any time to learn about the ways of the world. Larsa stared at the floor, feeling ashamed of her naivety; the only solace she could ever find was with him, and she was grateful that he had returned. She rarely left the palace. When she did, a huge crowd of people would always follow her, making it even more difficult for her to interact normally with anyone or live the life of an ordinary woman, something she so deeply desired.

Marmicus understood the position she was in, and knew it would take some time before she would fully settle into her new role.

‘Look, the fact that you’re even questioning yourself means you will be a good ruler. I’ve met kings who would rather die than question themselves.’

Larsa smiled. She wasn’t quite sure if he was exaggerating or telling the truth.

‘I have a meeting with the Counsel of Priests today. I’m certain they’ll obstruct me because I’m a woman who knows little about the affairs of men. I need you to come with me.’

‘You don’t need me to come; just believe in yourself the way I believe in you.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said with a half-smile. Marmicus could tell it was a forced one. Nothing he could say would convince her; she had to learn it for herself, and only time could do that. ‘Why didn’t you come home when my father fell ill? I waited for you every day, praying you’d come before he died.’

‘I came as soon as I heard the news. You know I would have come if I had known.’

‘I thought something had happened to you.’

‘Nothing will happen to me, I promise.’

‘You can’t make a promise like that – it’s like the sea promising never to touch the shore; it can’t be kept. You’ll never be safe until men learn to live in peace.’

‘Should the earth be plagued by a thousand wars, I will always return to you, Larsa.’

‘It’s not about our love. I just don’t want you to make a promise you can’t keep.’

Marmicus clasped her hands, wanting to reassure her. He had not realised just how much his absence had affected her: she needed him more than ever, especially now that her father had died.

‘Do you remember the sacred words of our kingdom?’

‘Of course. “Allegiance lies in the heart of the sword.”’

‘Then you’ll know that every sword held by every hand is always carried for the love of something. I carry mine to protect you and to make you happy. It’s all I care about, Larsa. You’re everything I need, and if ever you should feel uncertain of this, I want you to remember these words, just as I do. They’ll strengthen you with courage in the face of whatever tomorrow may bring.’

‘Allegiance lies in the heart of the sword,’ the princess whispered again, this time with conviction. His warmth comforted her and alleviated the deep loneliness she felt inside. ‘I still can’t believe my father is dead; he was so strong, so healthy.’

‘I know,’ said the Gallant Warrior as he leant in, lovingly kissing her on her forehead. ‘He will never be forgotten.’

There was nothing on earth quite like the Temple of Ishtar. So beautiful was this monument that even the gods had reason to wage war for possession of it. Like a living mountain, the colossal temple spiralled upwards, encircled by lofty pillars and overhung with lush, terraced gardens fed by gushing fountains. Even at night, the temple’s glory could be seen: a gigantic torch lit up its top, its flame guiding lost travellers towards the sacred Garden of the Gods. So bright were the temple’s flames that the mighty hearth appeared as a star in the vast desert sky, lighting the path for wanderers in search of the Garden of the Gods.

Hidden from view inside the structure were spacious passages and galleries that led worshippers to the main chamber belonging to the goddess Ishtar. Once they entered the great chamber they would bow before Ishtar’s magnificent stone statue, which reached as high as the lofty ceiling. With her long almond eyes and voluptuous body, she seemed to peer into the eyes of each worshipper, as if looking deep into their soul at what they desperately desired. When all else had failed, only Ishtar had the power to answer their prayers. Today, the tranquillity of the magnificent temple was overtaken by the quarrelling of the Grand Priests who sat, restive and agitated, waiting for the princess to arrive.

‘What an impertinent girl!’ the Grand Priest of Ursar blasted furiously, his voice echoing. ‘What an outrage! Does she have no knowledge of who we are? This is the reason women should never be permitted to rule – they have no awareness of time. They should remain figures of beauty, appreciated only by the eyes and never by the ears. It’s what the gods had intended for them.’

He rose from his seat in frustration and paced up and down the chamber; his reflection sparkled across the long pool of water that marked its centre line.

‘She has certainly shamed her father; he would have never kept us waiting like this.’

The temple echoed with the complaints of unhappy priests who had been waiting for some time, their faces contorted with outrage. It was unheard of to keep the Counsel waiting.

‘Men quarrel like wolfhounds! Their rantings are devoid of all reason,’ a strong voice declared, from behind the priests. The most powerful woman in all the land had heard their insults, and she was not impressed. Even so, the Grand Priest of Ursar remained where he was. He never could conceal his disgust from anyone; being polite was not worth the effort, even for royalty.

‘How dare you keep this Counsel waiting? Your behaviour is nothing more than a symbol of your female impertinence!’ he declared furiously. His opulent robes flickered beneath the fiery torches, while his beard shimmered like strings of silver.

‘Calm yourself, oh scholar of the gods. I may be a woman, but I can be as ruthless as a man,’ replied the princess. She walked on, followed by a long line of servants. One servant brought up a beautifully engraved wooden chair, positioning it in the same spot where her father had once sat before the Counsel of Priests. ‘As for the rest of you, the real obscenity doesn’t lie with me, but with this Counsel, for you all speak lovingly of the gods, yet you have chosen to quarrel among yourselves in their house. I doubt the gods would be pleased.’

‘Forgive us, Your Highness, we are all friends and allies of your kingdom; none of us have come here to insult you,’ said the young Priest of Xidrica. His voice was soft and humble, unlike that of his counterpart, who possessed the arrogance of a king.

‘Then quarrel we shall not, oh noble one.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness. You have indeed taken your beauty from your mother and your wisdom from your father.’

Even though the princess appreciated the gesture, the compliment failed to work its charm. She knew that the Counsel had not assembled simply to flatter her, or congratulate her for becoming their soon-to-be-inaugurated queen; they had come for a purpose, something that must be of great importance.

‘Let us not pretend any longer. Like my father, I am wise in matters of the mind. We can all be certain that none of you have journeyed through the scorching desert simply to pay me a weightless compliment. So who is going to tell me the real reason you’ve decided to call upon me?’

Finding out would be harder than she had imagined. The Counsel fell silent. Nobody dared move in their seat; it was as if they all wanted to blend into the background. After all, no one wanted to have the responsibility of passing on bad news.

‘Well?’

Again, no one answered: it was obvious that they all knew the answer, but they were too afraid to voice it. It occurred to Larsa that she preferred them when they were squabbling; at least then she knew what troubled them. She looked across the chamber, searching for someone brave enough to give her an answer, but everyone was acting so peculiarly – some even avoided making eye contact. Something was wrong; she could feel it. A rush of uncertainty came over her, and she tried hard to hide her nerves. If they knew she was nervous, they would use it against her.

‘I am still waiting. Will no one speak? Just a moment ago you were all adamant that I hear your thoughts. What has changed?’

The Grand Priest of Ursar finally rose; the responsibility fell to him to tell her the disastrous news. He was, after all, the most powerful of them. Holding his long cane, which amplified his grandeur, the frail priest stared deeply into the princess’s eyes and quietly uttered the words, ‘War is coming …’

I forgot how beautiful the sun looks; somehow the prospect of war makes everything seem all the more glorious,’ Larsa whispered to Marmicus. They were watching the evening sun dip lower into the horizon, settling over the fertile kingdom of the Garden of the Gods. The sky was painted with glorious shades of orange and pink that blended together like a painting, and the kingdom was calm; nothing could unsettle it, not even the rustling of the palm trees or the coming of war.

‘I feel the gods are displeased with me. I must have wronged them somehow for them to curse my kingdom so soon.’

‘Nothing can curse a man other than his own deeds. The gods have nothing to do with what’s happening here – only the desires of selfish men can set fire to peaceful lands.’

‘I know you don’t believe in the gods, but I feel they’re watching over us, even you.’ She turned towards him, seeking reassurance.

Marmicus knew it was difficult to accept the prospect of war, but the first thing any ruler needed to do was to be strong in the face of the enemy. This wasn’t the time for Larsa to doubt herself – there was too much at stake.

‘Have I done something to provoke this war? Why has it come so soon, when I’ve barely ruled for a day?’

‘You already know my answer.’

She walked away from the balcony, infuriated by his cold reply: Larsa needed his comfort, but his mind was worlds away. She sat upon the divan, wanting to collect herself. There was so much to think about, and she didn’t know where to start. This was all new to her, although not for him. Marmicus approached her, feeling a slight guilt for his short response. Larsa pretended not to care, but her eyes betrayed her.

‘The more you doubt yourself, the more power you give to your enemies. If you want to help your people then you have to be strong for them.’

‘You always think of the people before you think of what I need or how this will affect us. Think of me, for a change,’ said Larsa. She needed a husband who would comfort her, not a selfless warrior who comforted and thought of others. As much as it was noble, it was often irritating.

She made a sweeping gesture with her arm. ‘None of this means anything to me if you’re gone. I don’t want you to fight in this war. I won’t let you.’

She couldn’t bear to have him fight again, not so close, not when the enemy was just beyond her borders. At least with distance there came some small degree of emotional remove. If he died, what would she do? She could barely cope without a mother and father; she knew she couldn’t survive without him.

‘You know our homeland means everything to me. I cannot neglect my duty just because you’re frightened that I may die.’

‘And yet it’s easy for you to neglect me without question? Is it wrong for me to ask my husband to be by my side? You make me sound as if I’m acting selfishly when all I want from you is to be here with me! I’ve come to live half a life; I won’t do it any more. I can’t.’

Her face scrunched up with resentment; she would not be made to feel guilty for her suffering. He had sacrificed his own happiness for the sake of others – and he may be loved by the people – but it had come at the cost of her happiness.

‘Why do you deny yourself the right to live your life?’ she said. ‘You’re entitled to smile just as I’m entitled to love. After this war, there will be a thousand battles waged by others who will summon you to fight alongside them and, if the cause is noble, you’ll accept their challenge and leave me here. I can’t live my life on the thread of hope that you’ll return to me unharmed. I want us to be a family – I want to be a mother one day and I want you to be alive to see our children grow. Is it selfish of me to ask you to live for us?’

‘You want to be a mother?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, heatedly. ‘I feel I’m ready now. I wasn’t before.’

A huge grin appeared on Marmicus’s face; one which he tried to hide – they were in the middle of an argument, after all.

‘Why are you smiling? Don’t you want to be a father some day?’

‘Larsa, I have never been happier than I am at this moment.’

‘Really?’

‘Of course.’

The faint dimples in his cheek revealed themselves as he smiled brilliantly. ‘There’s no other woman in the world who I’d want to carry my child. I love you so much.’

A voice interrupted them.

‘Forgive me, my lord, but shall I tell the Counsel that you will not be joining them?’

‘No, let them know that I will be joining them shortly.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied the soldier.

‘We will discuss this later. I must go now,’ he whispered as he gently kissed her and strode out of the chamber, and towards the Temple of Ishtar.

It was not very often that the Counsel agreed on matters, but tonight they had hoped to make an exception. They were losing precious time while the enemy was gaining valuable strength.

‘We’ve got no choice in the matter; we must attack, and protect the walls of this city,’ declared the Grand Priest of Ursar.

He had had enough of listening to pathetic suggestions by the other priests; it was action that was needed, not idle deliberation.