The Philistine Warrior (50 page)

Danite murderer, the monster Samson. They intended to let this seed of our arch-enemy live! And that despite Ibbi’s prophecy that Delai’s child would someday rule in
Canaan
! They opposed my decision to have the baby killed. But they’ll

tell you that I managed to kill the baby anyway, by proxy. And that, too, I confess. But, unlike the killing of Nasuy’s grandson, I don’t regret for one minute killing Samson’s “heir.”
Philistia
should thank me for it, and never trust Phicol or Delai again, if they ever return from their richly deserved exile. I know they’re in
Assyria
. I bear them no special grudge. I forgive them for the way they betrayed me. But
Philistia
should never let them return. Perhaps it was a mistake not to try to kill them in
Assyria
—although that might have provoked the Emperor’s wrath. Even so, I probably should have killed them. They might some day stand in the way of my son’s right to the throne. Perhaps not killing them—and their new baby—that’s (perhaps) where I failed Dagon.

I die now. The poison is taking effect. I am not afraid. I have done my duty. See if you all can manage
Philistia
, and save her, without using the very tactics for which you condemn me now.

Signed, Zaggi, Melek

As I finished reading this document, the last light along the

horizon faded away. We all stared glumly at each other.

“They found that note on his desk,” Amphimachus explained. “He was lying across the desk, dead. His concubine lay on a couch nearby—she’d taken poison, too.”

“I didn’t know Uncle Zaggi had a concubine,” Delai exclaimed in a whisper.

“Yes, after you went into exile. Zaggi just couldn’t take his wife’s hysteria any more, I guess. He set her up in her own little palace—and got himself a girl friend. Perhaps he wanted more heirs; perhaps he was just lonely. Not many people liked him, after all—even among those who supported him.”

“Did he have any children by this concubine?” I inquired—thinking how ironical it would be if Zaggi had produced an illegitimate offspring, thereby recapitulating the life of his father,

Rusa the Great—and
his
illegitimate son, Pinaruta; and what would Zaggi
then
say about bastard heirs…after what he said about Pinaruta, so many years ago?

“No,” Amphimachus replied, “no children by the concubine. But he kept her, anyway, even though she was barren. She must have loved him very much—she killed herself, with him. Surely she didn’t think
we
would harm her!”

“Who knows what Zaggi might have told her about what the

rebels would do to her?” I remarked. “But are you certain he didn’t kill her, himself?”

“Oh, yes, we’re sure. She left a little note, too—in her own handwriting. She said that she couldn’t live without her beloved Zaggi.”

Delai spoke: “And he didn’t even
mention
her in his last testament,” she noted.

“He barely mentioned his sons,” I added.

“I suppose it never occurred to him that his elder son wouldn’t get the throne, albeit with a regency—he was so convinced that hereditary kingship was necessary, and that he had taught us that very principle,” Amphimachus suggested. “He must have assumed that you were out of the running…that he’d taught us to regard you as a ‘traitor.’ And, after all, he’d already enacted a law making his elder son the next Melek. He didn’t understand that it was that very law which helped turn people against him.”

Delai had this to say—but in a whisper, with a lump in her throat: “He should have mentioned her—she gave her life for him….” “I’m not surprised,” I told her. “After all, he was never very close to his wife—or you….”

“But
she
, the concubine…he didn’t love her even enough to
mention
her in his last thoughts….”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“I loved him once,” Delai continued, still in a throaty whisper, repeating herself a bit: “I never liked him much, but I loved him… once—and so did his wife…and his concubine….”

Amphimachus was uncomfortable with these ruminations. “By the way,” he said, interrupting, “I explained everything to the nobles

about Samson’s child—and about the Goddess’ will that he should be born alive. They accepted that; they weren’t very happy about it, but they accepted it, and won’t hold it against Delai, because she, and you, Phicol, fully intended to send the child out of
Philistia
—never to know his father’s name. And when I told them about how Zaggi used poor Rachel to commit his murder—his ‘proxy’—their sympathy for Delai increased—and for you, too, Phicol.” We all fell silent for a while. “What are you thinking,” the High Priest inquired of me.

“Well…I’m not flattered by Zaggi’s opinion of me,” I replied; “although, coming from him, I might consider his comments as a compliment!” I paused—and my mood darkened: “It’s a hateful, bloody world he depicts, and I don’t like him for it; but I’m afraid in many respects he’s right: that’s the way the world is….”

Delai looked at me with pain in her eyes, lips trembling: “Phicol, even if that’s the way things
are
, do they
have
to be that way? Can’t we change things for the better?”

“I hope so, my dear love, I hope so—but, in truth, I don’t have much hope. I do know we must try.”

“It’s terrible,” she sighed. “Yet…oh, Goddess…if Uncle Zaggi didn’t kill Akashou…then maybe much of the trouble, even our exile—maybe it was all unnecessary, or mostly so? Would we have opposed him so much if we’d known that he was innocent of Akashou’s death?” she wondered—but it was a wonderment of agony.

Ibbi looked embarrassed: his suspicion had been proven wrong by a death-bed oath.

“There’s still the murder of Samson’s child,” I noted—trying to be gentle with that memory. “And the way he used poor Rachel. Besides, his letter makes clear—and also from what Amphimachus has told us—it’s clear enough that we couldn’t have lived under Zaggi’s rule for long…and neither could any other self-respecting noble who’d been so wronged.”

“True enough, Delai,” Amphimachus remarked. “But what now, Phicol? It’s true that much of what Zaggi said is well taken; especially about the Danites. What are you going to do about it all?”

I thought for a moment, and then spoke, realizing as I did that I was laying out the plan for my reign with every word—but with the nagging memory that almost everything I’d tried to do in the past several years—before my exile—had turned sour somehow. “Well,” I began, “Zaggi’s right about one thing. We can’t undo the wrongs he committed against the Canaanites, or allowed. If we try to indemnify them for their seized lands, or to return their lands, there’d be endless litigation, even if we could locate the victims of Zaggi’s policy—those who got enslaved, or driven out of
Canaan
. And we can’t bring back the dead; even their heirs would be hard to find. Any attempt to right those wrongs—well, there’d be discontent, no, downright fury among the Philistines who benefited from Zaggi’s ‘generosity’ with those lands.”

“Quite so,” the High Priest agreed.

“And Zaggi was also right—but only because it was King Ekosh’s idea in the first place—that we must remain one nation. We can’t give up our national army. But we can put all of our affairs on the basis of persuasion—leadership—rather than on the basis of tyranny.”

“The nobles voted to give you sweeping powers, Phicol,” Amphimachus noted. “You’ll have many of the same powers Zaggi had—except that the nobles reserve the right to elect future meleks, of course, and to preserve some of the traditions of city freedom. They feel that it wasn’t the power in itself that was bad, but only Zaggi’s misuse of it.”

“Don’t they see the potential irony? And danger: what happens if someday another tyrant becomes Melek—and by then the great powers which the nobles have given to Ekosh, Zaggi—and now me—all that will be fixed in custom? I think we should go back to my original idea:
write down
the liberties of the cities and of the nobility. Perhaps we can even give written guarantees to our Canaanite subjects. We can’t undo past wrongs, but we may be able to avoid them in the future.”

“Good ideas, Phicol,” Amphimachus applauded. “And we can also trust to the elective nature of the Melek’s office to see to it that tyranny doesn’t last more than one generation—if it ever comes

again. The nobles are fickle: once things calm down, they may want to limit even
your
powers. So, if you propose to write down limitations on your powers
now
, you’ll really impress them; and you can accept such limitations gracefully, without seeming to do so under pressure—obviously, since you’re proposing them yourself!”

“And if I do that—if we all respect written freedoms—then perhaps the trend toward hereditary monarchy won’t be so bad, after all,” I added. “Whether we like it or not, it may be that the only way to avoid internal disputes is to have a hereditary monarchy. I’m not happy with the idea, though of course I’d like to see my son inherit….but with written limitations on the Melek’s power, it might all be for the best. Except for the problem of weak people inheriting the throne; or minor children—regencies tend to be weak, too.”

Delai changed the subject slightly: “We must rule with justice and mercy,” she argued, forcefully; “even if that makes me a ‘starry-eyed idealist’!”

“Oh, yes, another of Zaggi’s acidic commentaries. Which reminds me to remark upon something else in that old bastard’s suicide note: it turns out he knew all the time where we were! So, I guess, he didn’t try to harm us because he was afraid of the Emperor…or (perish the thought) he just didn’t think we could be a danger to his cause any more!”

Amphimachus nodded in agreement—but to which of my theories (about Zaggi’s disinclination to assassinate us) did his nod refer? Then I noticed that our plates and cups were empty. I called into the house, and a servant brought us more drinks. As we settled back in our chairs, I thought some more about what Delai had said.

“Mercy there’ll be, Delai. I’ll forgive ex-Sheren Pai; he can go on enjoying his opulent retirement. In fact, I shall
insist
upon his staying in retirement!” I laughed at my own remark.

Amphimachus frowned for a second, and then spoke: “Phicol, you must also treat Sheren Ittai with consideration. He risked a lot to overthrow Zaggi, and he was the main actor in that little drama. And he’d hoped to become Melek himself. So you must give him great honor when you return, whatever the past quarrels between you two.”

“It shall be done,” I assured him. “Actually, internal politics don’t worry me all that much. It’s the Danites—and the other hill peoples—they
really
concern me.”

“Yes,” the High Priest replied, “the Danites and the Hebrews are uniting, more or less. And Zaggi was right: they’re convinced that their god wants them to run us out of
Canaan
. But Zaggi wasn’t entirely correct about the Hebrews—as contrasted to the Danites. I mean, when he accused them of having no concept of objective morality, or justice. Some years ago, I had a long conversation with some Judaean priests; actually, priests from a sub-tribe they call

‘Levi.’ They view the northern Canaanite Hebrews, especially the Danites who’ve intermarried with Canaanites and Hebrews, as morally inferior, as barbarians who’ve never lived outside of
Canaan
. Well, the Danites, of course, came here from the
Aegean
. But they, the Judaeans, think people who came from the
Aegean
are mostly barbarians, too.”