The Forgotten Tale Of Larsa (3 page)

‘If we fight without the gods’ blessings, we’ll certainly lose this war. I say we should call upon the gods, and ask them to show us some signs of triumph before we rush into combat,’ the young Priest of Xidrica said. His love for the gods was as evident as his nobility, but it was a quality deeply unappreciated by many of the Grand Priests; the only quality that seemed to unite them was the love of pocketing power for themselves.

‘I think we should send Jaquzan gifts of gold. Maybe this generous act can tame the wild beast, even if it is only for a short while?’ said another.

‘You buffoon! Jaquzan doesn’t value peace, and he doesn’t need any more gifts. The entire world is falling at his feet, and he has everything any man can ever dream of. We have only one option, and it’s to attack now. Besides, we are Grand Priests, not peasants. Let the people fight and let us marvel at their victory – their deaths will ensure our survival, which is just as it should be.’

‘Enough!’ roared Marmicus, who had at last broken his silence. No one understood combat more than he did. He lived it and breathed it every day; it was his gift and his curse.

‘War without honour is not an option! If we attack, then we shall attack honourably. My men will not be drawn into a battle with cowards as their leaders and greed as their cause. Their sacrifice will not be any man’s gain, and their names will not be tarnished by this Counsel’s greed, or for the sake of clay gods who can’t even answer their prayers. If any of you forget this, then you’ll enter into battle alone, for I will not command my soldiers to follow you.’

‘Marmicus, we’ll lose this war if we do not act with haste; let us attack while the lion is still caged.’

‘Where there is no faith, there can only be certainty of defeat.’

He turned his back on the Counsellors and paced towards the magnificent stone statue of Ishtar, which overshadowed them; it was the only way he could possibly remain civil. The Grand Priest had angered him greatly with his selfish remarks; it was as if the lives of his soldiers had no value at all: he was commanding men to enter into battle and selflessly die for him without so much as a nod of gratitude for their sacrifice. It made him feel sick to his stomach. If anyone else said anything along those lines, Marmicus knew he would snap and the consequences would be lethal.

‘Perhaps you’ll change your mind once you’ve heard the news?’ said the Grand Priest of Ursar. He would not back down so easily, not when his position was on the line.

‘What news? What are you talking about?’ asked a Counsellor, and a murmur of curiosity went round the chamber. Could there really be news that would so drastically change the Gallant Warrior’s mind?

‘Yesterday I was sent word, from a reliable source, which has changed the balance of power in favour of our enemy. Persia has fallen into the hands of the Assyrians; now all that remains of it are the ashes carried by the winds. The greatest empire that has ever rivalled Babylonia has been defeated. If we are not careful, our kingdom will follow suit.’

His news was shocking – unbelievable: the kingdom of Persia had always seemed an all-powerful force, ruling over every land in the region. The Persian army was remorseless, with a military might which slammed down like the fist of a god on anything, or anyone, that got in its way. Its demise had proven the Counsellor’s point: Jaquzan was not to be underestimated; he was only to be feared.

‘So, you see, comrades,’ said the Grand Priest of Ursar, ‘this is why we must attack now. If we are not careful, we shall be trampled on by the Assyrians. What difference does it make if we fight for the people or if we fight for our own cause? The result will be the same: some shall live, while others shall die. Let the people fight, and let us remain watchful over our positions – no man here wants his scholarly throne ripped from beneath his feet for the sake of protecting another man’s honour!’ He looked at the Counsel, whose heads were nodding in unison as if being bullied into agreement. ‘The time has come for us to embark upon war. Death is death and life is life – the only difference is that we deserve to live for longer.’

Marmicus turned, looking back at the Grand Priest. His face showed sheer disgust, while his fist instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword.

‘Have patience, Marmicus. His greed will be judged by the gods.’

The Priest of Xidrica could see the fury in Marmicus’s eyes. His temper had eclipsed his reason: he was as a volcano, about to unleash hell on earth; nothing could hold him back.

‘I have fought many battles. I have seen many die and some live, but in all the wars that I have fought in, the purpose has always been the same: it has been to protect this kingdom and all those who serve it. You stand here before me now in your opulent robes, feasting on the fruits of this kingdom without thanks, and speaking of war as though it is nothing more than a game for your amusement: as if the scars inflicted by our enemies will heal in time and the cries of men who fought courageously to protect this kingdom will be carried off by the winds, only to be forgotten. But you know nothing of war – for cowards have no place in the armies of the brave.’

The Grand Priest shrank back into his seat like a child scolded into submission. He had been humiliated in front of his fellow priests: it felt as though sand had been thrown into his eyes and smoke had been flung into his lungs.
One day, oh Gallant Warrior, you shall learn to bite your tongue, or you shall live to regret it …

‘Know this. Jaquzan may have an army of thousands, but he does not have the honour or the devotion of my men, who fight for the people and for the love of this kingdom. We shall not be defeated if our hearts are devoted. Men have waged wars for a thousand years and more, but none shall ever conquer like this. War will come and, when it does, our battle will never be forgotten.’

‘Allegiance lies in the heart of the sword!’ roared the Counsel in clamorous approbation. In one brief moment the Gallant Warrior had united the hearts of men – except that of one man, a serpent who secretly carried hatred within his heart, and was cunningly plotting to kill him.
Enjoy your moment of glory, oh Gallant One, but it will not last long, for soon you shall squirm because of the treachery that runs through my veins …

‘What then do you propose we do, Marmicus?’ asked the noble Priest of Xidrica. His eyes lit up with inspiration as he absorbed Marmicus’s speech.

‘I propose we do this …’

‘That’s their plan, sire,’ Nafridos said, feeling pleased with himself. The news sent by the Serpent was invaluable; it had revealed Marmicus’s military tactics, giving the Assyrians the advantage when war came; it was indeed worth a thousand plates of gold.

‘What makes you certain it’s not a trap?’ Jaquzan asked, swirling his chalice in a hypnotic rhythm.

‘It’s not a trap; he gave me his word.’

The Assyrian emperor gave a long stare, reacting only with a subtle twitch; his cousin had amused him with the stream of words that flowed so freely from his lips. Carelessness was a trait that Jaquzan despised above all things; he was the master of self-preservation, whose every emotion was crafted with a purpose. ‘Don’t let your stupidity and ignorance blind you, cousin – only a fool trusts someone who has already betrayed another. It’s like saying that you trust the sea when it has already sunk your ship.’

He rose from his magnificent throne. It weighed five thousand minas and had been carved from solid stone; on either side of it were two Lamassu, the Assyrian winged bulls which were the symbols of his empire; their human heads and hoofed feet guarded him against adversity. Though he was not superstitious and did not believe in the spirits of the Lamassu, they had been passed down to him from his ancestors, and it was out of respect for them that he kept them as symbols of his kingdom.

He walked into the open, terraced gardens, taking his chalice of wine with him; the green lushness contrasted with his jet-black hair and glowing skin, which appeared tight, and smooth. He was a handsome man, no older than thirty-five, but his expressionless features made him appear older than his years, and somehow less than human.

‘Do you want me to ignore their plan, and go ahead with the attack as if nothing has been said?’

‘No, we will not ignore the plan, but we shall tread with caution, for we do not wish to be stung twice; that means you will pay close attention to every matter, and you will not confuse what you
think
to be true with what you
know
to be true, for even the oh-so-honourable Marmicus is certain to have an ounce of mischief.’ He paused for a moment, staring at a garden spider that had weaved a delicate web over the stem of a white rose. He approached it, staring at it blankly; it quickly tried to conceal itself, hiding within the curls of the white rose petals. Jaquzan lifted his chalice and spilt red wine over it, watching carefully as the creature tried to save its webbed home from his callous hands.

‘How unfortunate for the Gallant Warrior,’ said the emperor. ‘For soon his wound shall itch from a far deadlier bite.’

‘What are you planning to do to him?’

Like his master, Nafridos had heard rumours of the Gallant Warrior who fought fearlessly for justice. He felt a connection with him, as if he was his living opposite, and for this he was bound by blood to kill him.

‘Patience, dear cousin … patience …’ Jaquzan whispered, as brutal thoughts of conquest entered his mind. ‘Patience … for even the spider needs time to weave its web before he catches his prey, and I shall indeed catch mine.’

Marmicus watched the princess play the Babylonian harp, singing along with it in her beautiful soft voice. Every time her fingertips flew across the strings of the instrument, it felt as though she was tugging at his heartstrings. He listened to her sing a verse from the story of Gilgamesh. How perfect she was; a combination of beauty, intelligence and, above all, kindness made her the angel she was. When his world seemed filled to the brim with chaos, Larsa had always brought him the peace he needed; he had been searching for it endlessly, finding it only when he met her. Larsa smiled, gazing at him with her large brown eyes, her long hair tumbling over her supple, exposed body. She cherished their moments of intimacy; how gentle and loving he was. Her skin still smelt of his passionate kisses, his embrace. She returned to the divan, lying beside him in the privacy of their chamber. Even with war so close, her world felt safe at moments like these.

‘I know my father would have been proud of you today. Every word has been reported to me. You spoke with honour and courage before the Counsel; you made me, and our people, proud,’ she whispered, resting beside her husband upon the bed. She traced his toned chest with her fingers, appreciating their time alone together.

‘I just said the truth; nothing more and nothing less.’

‘That may be, but men are often careless of truthful words … others have neglected them while you have always embraced them. That’s why the people love you, and so do I.’

‘Wars can’t be won with words, Larsa; I wish they could, maybe then I could sleep at night without seeing the faces of every man I have killed.’

‘There’s no reason for you to feel guilty for what you do; you’ve always been the defender, never the attacker, on the battlefield. There’s a difference.’

‘The actions of a soldier reflect only the orders of his leaders; those men on the battlefields are not the attackers, they are just following orders. I know this because I was one of them – I can’t blame them for the selfish acts of their kings. Before I served your father I did everything that was asked of me by my commanders. I never questioned anything when I should have, I killed men who need not have been killed, Larsa – those are the faces that haunt me, not the eyes of kings that have been killed, but theirs …’

Marmicus slowly untangled the princess’s arms from around his muscular chest, and rose from the divan; every time he thought of his past life he felt impure. He could not bear Larsa to be near him when he remembered his old way of life – how different he was now.

‘I can’t imagine what you’ve seen,’ she murmured. Sometimes she wished she could see the world through his eyes, even if it was just for one day; at least then she could comfort him properly.

‘War is a savage affair. If men are not careful, it can strip them of their humanity and leave them soulless.’

‘But I would be a better queen if I knew what my people saw, what war really means.’

‘Why do you wish for something like that?’ asked Marmicus sharply. Even though he loved her naivety, sometimes she would say things that were beyond childish. ‘Never wish for something like that, Larsa. I don’t want you to see war; it’s something that can’t easily be forgotten by the mind.’

‘You can’t protect me from what is coming, Marmicus; soon enough I shall see war, and when I do I’ll be strong like my father.’

‘No, Larsa, you won’t.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t want you to be here. I want you to leave this kingdom and head to one that can shield you from war. If our kingdom is conquered you’ll be the first in danger, and I won’t let that happen.’

‘You speak as though we’ve already lost this war! We will win so long as we have you to defend us. I know it.’

‘I am not immortal, Larsa. I’m one man, made of flesh, vulnerable to his weaknesses, just like any other. I can’t lead the army if all I can think about is your safety. I have to be able to think with clarity, to focus on what’s coming, and if you’re here I’ll put my men at danger. I need you to go.’

He could tell from her expression that she was offended by his reaction: her lips always parted slightly; it was a subtle sign that only someone who knew her intimately would recognise.

‘How can you expect me to leave? This is my homeland and soon I shall become its queen; I will never walk away freely from my people or my duty. I’ll stand and fight with our people, just as I promised my father I would.’

‘I am not asking you to go – I’m telling you to. I’ve already made the arrangements. Tomorrow you’ll leave, and journey towards the Kingdom of Aram, where it’s safe. The decision has already been made.’