Читать книгу A Persian Tale - Kevin J. Todeschi - Страница 10

Never before had the Lydian Empire known such splendor. Throughout the Emperor Croesus’s citadel, lavish cloths of silken brilliance hung from marbled walls, gems of intricate design adorned palace women and delicacies able to entice even the palates of foreign ambassadors could be summoned from the kitchens with a solitary command. Riches of gold and silver from Ophu and Abni and every corner of the continent lay scattered about palace chambers, given no greater significance than fine fabrics from Syria, incense from Baghdad, spices and ornate treasures from the East, or merchant wares having undergone exchange or not-so-friendly barter. Pearls from the Gulf found their way to the city as readily as imported gems, spices from Ceylon, or the polished ivory of India. Croesus’s iron rule guided the empire with fervor and unquenchable zeal.

Treasure stores were continuously replenished by the steep one-quarter duty imposed upon all merchants trading within the city’s borders. The moneys assured merchants safe passage through a desert filled with thieving nomads and vicious marauders just waiting to ambush unsuspecting caravans. However, some believed that the majority of murdering nomads were, in fact, Croesus’s own mercenary patrols making certain the payment of duty remained a necessity. The kingdom was one of opposites, where the glamour of wealth comfortably ignored dark alleyways and unspeakable crimes of lack. Life was rewarding for those who received the emperor’s favor. Those who lacked value or had managed to outlive it simply disappeared

And within the idle luxury of the fortified palace, there arose a school for the palace maidens, which included Croesus’s daughter, Lila, and Serena, the emperor’s beautiful niece.

All her life Serena had been surrounded with pomp, grandeur, and all good things that could be had for a sum. As Croesus’s niece, she had been educated in the ways of royalty and the proper place of a palace woman. She held the affection of the emperor above all others. The sound of his approaching footsteps caused her to tremble with anticipation. His voice brought forth such emotion that she felt unworthy to bow down in his magnificent shadow. She could not believe that everyone in Lydia did not share her unshakable adoration for him. He was her idol, lord and master, and never once had Serena dared to speak of him as ‘uncle.’

The emperor’s daughter, Princess Lila, however, thought differently of her father and remained completely mystified by Serena’s devotion. As the two proceeded quickly down the marble corridor on their way to the temple baths where the others were waiting, she voiced what had been on her mind.

“He doesn’t even have time to see us anymore!” Lila, the darker of the two, blurted with disgust. “We’ve become decorations, like the rest of the palace women. He gives no thought to our existence except as a diversion. We are simply amusing to him when he has the time, that is all.” Her silk robe rippled atop the marbled floors as she waved her arms in accusation.

Serena shook her head in disagreement, “We are not alone in Lydia, my cousin. The emperor is busy with a kingdom.”

“My father,” she said emphasizing the word, “finds whatever time he desires. He doesn’t lack for more frequent amusements. Not all women in Lydia are treated with such indifference,” she added with disgust.

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I know that you’ve been blinded by the image you wish to see. Ask one of the others . . . they feel just as I do.”

“I am not unaware of the emperor’s activities,” Serena said with compassion. “No one can even begin to imagine the responsibilities he has placed upon himself. Surely our lord’s entitled to the desires of more than one man, for he guides the destiny of thousands.”

“You mean he controls the lives of thousands! We are confined to the inner walls of this palace.”

“Where would you rather be?”

“I would have a kingdom of my own, and a man to do my bidding.”

Serena laughed, “What kingdom would have a woman as ruler?”

“I have heard of such, among ambassadors to my father.”

“In what country?”

“Egypt,” Lila replied matter-of-factly,” they are called ‘high priestesses.’“

“They are superstitious fools. I mean a real kingdom, like your father’s.”

“The dowager Empress, Myra, once ruled Lydia.”

“She is the sister of Croesus’s father and only served as advisor until the emperor was of age. She is a palace woman like the rest of us.”

“Should Father die,” Lila said much too loudly, “I could rule in his place.”

The words were blasphemy. “I will never hear you speak of this again!” Serena spoke angrily, though softly lest they be heard. Already the scents of bath salts had reached their nostrils and the walls had grown dark from continuous moisture.

Lila remained fearless. “One day the emperor will die and I am his daughter . . . ”

Serena interrupted, “Then just as a Croesus ruled before your father, another Croesus will follow him.”

“My brother? He is just a boy!”

“He is an emperor’s son!”

“He killed my mother.”

Serena took her cousin’s arm and pulled the woman along, “A birthing child is responsible for naught.”

“But why should he rule Lydia?”

“He is a man.”

“Yet, what if he had been my sister?”

“Then the emperor would have remarried and sired a son.”

“And if there had been only daughters?”

“Then the closest male in the emperor’s family. You know how it is done.”

“I know, but I cannot understand,” Lila said truthfully. “Surely I possess more of the emperor’s blood within my own veins than some man-child beyond the borders of Lydia.”

“It is not right to discuss such things.”

“How can you be content just waiting for whatever future my father has decided for you? Our training’s nearly complete; he could choose a husband for each of us and then we will be sent away. Is that what you want? You might never see me again!” The possibility frightened her.

“I want what the emperor decides is best for me.” Serena’s words were nearly drowned out by the laughter of the other maidens reaching their ears. “Besides, the emperor will never separate us.”

“I no longer know what he might do. All that is certain is that I shall choose for myself,” Lila said positively. “Father has no right to decide my fate. A man’s keshash, destiny, is his own; I desire the same.”

“I hear the others,” Serena said softly. “Speak no more of this.”

Their last steps were taken in silence. They turned, passing through one narrow doorway and then another until clouds of steam billowed into the hallway and the sounds of echoing voices and unrestrained laughter bounced against marble walls. The splashing created pools of water that collected in crevasses upon the floor and stained the hems of their robes.

Inside the doorway, four tall eunuchs, black as ebony, stood two on either side. Their thin straight forms towered threateningly over the enormous hot-water baths. Experience allowed them the ability to guard without deliberately looking upon the eighteen naked maidens who splashed in the waters beneath them. At least once each fortnight the women turned loose of the restraints of clothing and were allowed to rest from the burden of continuous instruction.

“Where have you two been?” Irenan, their teacher, demanded as she entered the room. Her face was drawn with irritation, “I have even been to school chambers in search of you!”

“This is our one night of freedom!” Lila replied angrily for having been addressed in such a tone. As the emperor’s only daughter, she demanded respect. Besides, Irenan was no more than a dozen years her senior.

“You are my responsibility,” Irenan insisted. “Now get in the water.”

Irenan removed her robe and draped it over a polished gold hook before plunging into the waters. Lila removed her own clothing and jumped into the water, giving no thought to the guards. Obediently, Serena began to disrobe as well, stopping for a moment near the top of the marble steps, cupping her hands, as she began to pour warm water over her knees.

One of the eunuchs stared appreciatively at Serena’s supple body and the smooth skin of her thighs and bottom. Already her flesh had become moist from the humidity. He had come to admire her as one of the most appealing creatures he had ever seen. As she turned, he stared in total fascination at her beauty, memorized from these fortnight outings, as he had not been a eunuch from birth. He admired her slender stomach, the hair of her lightly colored groin, her perfectly firm nipples . . . and the half-moon birthmark, no larger than an almond that adorned the side of her left breast. Truly, she was a woman fit for a god.

“You are not my son!” The old high priest’s words were like a knife hurled through the air. And then again, “You are not my son,” though softer and more compassionate than the first. “The time has come for your homeward journey . . . your home in the Persian desert. There can be no further argument between us!”

“Father . . . I cannot,” was all that would come to him. “This is my home: the land of the rising sun; the land of Ra Ta’s majesty; the land of the Nile’s splendor . . . the land of Egypt.” Ravi paused for a moment, hoping for a more positive response but Esdena, the high priest, continued to avoid his gaze. “You are the father I have come to know, and I am the son of Egypt.” Ravi added, “I would choose to stay.”

“You are the son of the desert,” the old man’s robed arm pointed towards him, “the offspring of two tribes from the desert plains. Araby awaits you.”

“I cannot,” were his words once again. His eyes were moist and pleading as a child’s, though he had seen twentyeight years. Ravi leaned with his back against the chamber wall, lowering his gaze to the floor and was filled with much sadness, “Father, I beg of you.”

“I am not your father!” Esdena’s words rang out harshly. He dared not look at Ravi for fear that his own tears would begin to flow. “We both knew this day would come . . . I have told you from the very first.”

Ravi nodded in sorrow. He lowered himself to the ground; he wrapped his arms around his legs and hugged his knees to his chest, trying in vain to console himself. He sat submissively against the chamber wall, “But I have called you father.”

A long heavy silence filled the air before Esdena, one of the oldest high priests in Egypt, dared speak his own words, “ . . . and I have called you son.”

“Does this mean nothing, then?”

The old man nodded sadly, “It means that which must follow will be all the more difficult to bear.”

“I shall lose the land I love.”

“ . . . and gain one that has great need of thee.”

“I shall lose the heritage from a millennium!”

“ . . . yet show forth the direction of the one to come.”

“I shall lose a father!”

“ . . . but gain a people in his place.” Esdena paced back and forth collecting his thoughts. They did not come easily for his heart was heavy, “The desert cries out for a leader. Between wars and rumors of war, petty battles and border disputes, these wandering tribes are destroying themselves. Even disease and sickness, and the constant threat of Croesus and his Lydian Empire have done nothing to bring these people together. This madness must stop.”

Ravi looked up from where he sat, finally catching the old man’s gaze, “These people mean nothing to me.”

“Then look at them once again, my son, but use the eyes of your heart and not of your head, for your mind would deceive you.”

“What are they to Egypt?”

“A future yet to be written.”

“I dare not think of a future ruled by desert dogs!”

The high priest eyed him suspiciously. “Would you label as such all those who live amidst the plains . . . what of the one who gave you suckle?”

“What memories I possess continue to fade,” Ravi said slowly, “she is the woman who gave me birth.”

“She is your mother and yet lives!”

Ravi nodded in disagreement. “The Nile is my mother. This desert woman has her people and I have mine.”

“You have no idea of the love this woman bears for you,” Esdena replied angrily. “Out of her love for you, she sent you to me. With these people,” he paused only momentarily, “lies the next hope of the world.”

Ravi appeared shocked; his surprise overcame even the sadness, “How can this be?”

“I have witnessed it,” the old man spoke softly, “before my mind’s eye with sijda, the vision, I have seen it. If the tribes are not brought together, then as surely as I stand before you, Croesus will defeat them.”

“What is that to us?” Ravi shook his head sadly. “Under Croesus these people’s lives could be little different then they are now.”

“Perhaps . . . for a time,” Esdena’s eyes became glazed as he reflected upon what he had seen, “but the day would come not too far distant, when Lydia rules not only the plains of Araby but Assyria . . . and Babylonia, Chaldea, Mesopotamia, Aram, Cush, Media . . . even Ra Ta’s Egypt . . . ”

“Croesus does not possess such power,” Ravi interrupted.

“To be sure,” Esdena acknowledged, “but evil left unguarded spreads like an autumn’s fire. There are those who would be only too eager to join with Croesus. Should that happen, even Egypt will be threatened.”

Ravi felt the ache of defeat churn in the pit of his stomach. “But why must I follow this path? Surely there is another?”

“My son,” the old man replied with compassion, “it is because of your love for Egypt that you chose what is to come. It is the reason you were born to the desert tribes. It is the reason you shall return to your mother. I have told you this story from the very first . . . ”

“I would choose not to hear it again.”

“And I, your father, with heavy heart and words of love that dare not be spoken, would beg to tell you just one more time. Surely you will not deny me this?”

Ravi bowed his head in submission and began to cry, “I can deny you nothing.”

“Then hear me,” Esdena replied hoarsely, “knowing this to be the very last time . . . ”

It was the occasion of her marriage and with her whole heart, mind, and soul, Sumi was in love. Her handmaidens helped her dress and together they listened to the throng of a thousand voices assembling on the plains outside her father’s enormous tents. The day of the ceremony had finally arrived and her excitement and nervousness had grown so intense that she didn’t think she could stand still for another moment. Since first spotting Joell riding past her father’s settlement, she had dreamed of this day. She knew how lucky she was to be able to pick her own husband. A khudrazan they called her, for seldom would the daughter of a great tribesman even see the man she must marry before the wedding, let alone choose him!

She imagined some of the wondrous changes that came with being a wife. She would experience what it meant to have a man—things whispered in giggled secrets among young girls when they were alone. She would have her own home, perhaps not as majestic as her father’s but it would be hers and each morning she would dust limestone upon the threshold, providing a pleasant scent for all who entered, and begin the tasks that awaited a desert wife. She would become a woman’s equal, for a female without a husband remains ever a child. And one day, should her guardian spirit see fit to grant her wish, she would have children of her own who would never have to face the pain of losing their mother.

Her long white garments hung loosely from her shoulders and Margi, the most round of her handmaidens, provided the finishing touch by fastening a golden cord about Sumi’s slender waist. Finally, the bride’s hair was pulled back beneath the silken headscarf and she was completely robed in her ceremonial attire. All that could be seen of her olive-brown skin was her gentle hands, her forehead and the uppermost portion of her nose.

All at once the sounds of cymbals and the jingle of brass bells rang out above the noise of the crowds. Sumi knew the time had come. A celebration unsurpassed in the history of the settlement was to bring together the destiny of two warring tribes. Even a high priest from Egypt, one of her mother’s own people, had arrived to perform the ceremony.

Beneath the veil she smiled at her handmaidens, slowly turning about upon her sandals, and then peered at the women once again. The two smiled in return and then bowed to their mistress. Thoughts of the wedding and the feast to follow were as exciting to the servants as to Sumi herself. For at least one day the plains’ problems would be forgotten—the celebration, the food, and the rejoicing would last well into the night.

Her father, Remai, had ordered every delicacy for the occasion. Already the wondrous smells of roasted goat and spiced lamb taunted her nostrils. Honey cakes and melons had been imported from Egypt. Wine and plump grapes had arrived from merchants near the Great Sea. Olives and nuts and perhaps even oranges from the East would adorn the tables of their repast. Her own people had prepared great mounds of flaked rice and cactus fruit ripened to perfection. Such a celebration could push even the thoughts of desert fever far from their minds.

She took one final look around her surroundings before turning to leave her bedchamber. The floor was covered with thick Persian rugs and enormous reclining pillows scattered along each of the walls. The walls themselves were fashioned of dried goatskins, pounded into a fine cloth before being stitched carefully together. Such luxury was unsurpassed upon the desert. When she was finished, she headed toward the main door and waited. Her handmaidens followed close behind. She took one final breath to calm herself and heard the people outside roar with excitement. She knew that Joell had been presented upon the wedding platform.

Finally the door was opened and two initiates from Egypt led Sumi through the crowd. The people yelled out with renewed excitement. Suddenly the cymbals clanged with renewed fervor and the clamor of a solitary bell rang out joyously in line with her every step. She felt the presence of nearly a thousand huddling close to catch a glimpse of her as she was led toward the wooden steps of the ceremonial platform.

The entire settlement was filled with people. Never before had there been such a gathering! Scantily clad desert wanderers stood next to royal kings and wise men from Arabia. Beneath her veil she spotted Indians from the South and yellow-skinned counselors from the East. Many held aloft a flag or banner from their people. Warriors from throughout the plains had gathered, along with merchants from Shinar and royal princes from Nubia. Children of all ages and shades of color played at the feet of their parents, or sobbed in apparent confusion. Even camels, horses and donkeys in ceremonial costume stood obediently on the outskirts of the crowd.

She was led toward the platform, which rose above the crowd. It was splendidly adorned with beautiful tapestries and clusters of desert flowers gathered from all corners of the plains. As she ascended the steps the cries of celebration became almost deafening. When she reached the top, her father, Remai, embraced her.

“You will always be dear to my heart,” Remai whispered in her ear. Taking her by the hand, he walked Sumi to the front of the platform and presented her to the people. The excitement of countless voices rose to such fervor that even the platform began to shake from the sound. Upon seeing the multitude before her, Sumi turned her eyes nervously toward the ground. Remai led her to stand next to the young groom, and the couple joined hands.

A rush of love filled her chest as Sumi grew brave enough to look upon the man she was to marry. Joell’s own stark features returned her gaze with a look of nervousness and protective love. He was completely attired in white, stunning, tall and handsome, standing high above the crowd.

The Egyptian high priest stepped to the front of the platform and, as if by command, an awed silence spread throughout the crowd. He raised his long staff and summoned the attention of the multitudes. As he spoke it was in a manner known only to the ancients. His words became magnified in volume so that those standing upon the settlement’s farthest reaches could hear him with the same ease as those who stood near the platform.

“Rejoice and be glad!” his words echoed above the crowd, “for hope springs anew this day in the desert.” He waited for the cries to subside, turning to peer out upon all corners of the settlement. “Through this union peace may again fill the plains. Before you just now is the hope of a new beginning. You have become a chosen people. For this reason, ALL HUMANITY LOOKS NEXT TO YOU. I charge each of you to become worthy of this, the next hope of the world, for should you falter humankind stumbles with you.”

The high priest gathered his thoughts and continued, “By this union comes renewed hope for the land. From their seed shall come a great soul . . . one in whom the way will be shown. Therefore, I say be glad. It is a time for celebration!”

The Egyptian turned from the crowd and faced Joell and Sumi. A hush fell over the multitude as the high priest bowed before the young couple. When he next spoke, only the young couple could hear his words:

“Your firstborn shall be a son,” the high priest assured them. “He shall be proclaimed ruler over all your peoples and the peoples of the plains. He shall guide you back to the One.”

He turned to Sumi with compassion in his eyes: “You shall send me this son when he is seven and I will show him the ways of the One and the wonders of Egypt. When the day comes that he is ready to reign and his people are ready for hope, I shall return him to the desert. Follow him and you shall be a great nation, a people set apart for all the world to see.”

Suddenly Sumi began to smile. She was to become a mother. She was going to have a son.

“It is your story,” Esdena said finally when Ravi had not moved to speak. “And as such, it is the destiny before you.”

Ravi shook his head in disbelief, his gleaming black hair brushing his noble shoulders. The words nearly choked in his throat, “I cried and thought my world ended when Sumi sent me to you in Egypt and now the same shall come to pass when I leave.”

“Such is birth and death.” The high priest motioned a female initiate in the doorway to enter. “We come into the world yelping and sobbing with tears and often leave in the same manner and yet, what awaits our arrival on either side is often so beautiful that when the time comes we may find ourselves hesitant, once again, to leave.”

The female initiate watched Ravi with deep love and respect as he rose to his feet. His handsome frame and the power of his presence caused her to sigh under her breath.

“Father, I must accept your decision,” Ravi said softly, “but you cannot imagine how loudly Egypt cries out for me to stay.”

In spite of his best efforts, Esdena’s own eyes began to tear, “My son, truly I do understand, for it will be harder for you to leave Ra Ta’s Egypt than it has been for any since the birth of the Nile. But you must dare to do right. The desert has long awaited you.”

Ravi nodded to himself, whispering softly as he left the room, “Dare to do what is right . . . ”

Silence filled the room as the initiate and the old man were left alone. “He must leave,” Esdena replied finally, “it would be wrong to allow him to stay.”

“Does he know who he is?” the initiate asked hopefully just under her breath.

“Beesh-peesh,” the old priest silenced her with a wave of his hand, “it is not ours to tell him.”

“Where is Bestreld?” Croesus demanded furiously. The emperor was not known for his patience. He pounded the back of his gilded chair with an angry fist. “What can be keeping him?”

“He has been summoned my lord,” Eliot replied from a safe distance. As servant and principal guard to the emperor, the brown-skinned man was used to such outbursts—though familiarity did not ease his tension. He glanced uneasily at one of the other guards.

“And Bestreld knows it is I who await him?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“He is a fool to provoke me!”

“Yes, my lord.”

Croesus snorted angrily. He paced behind his throne, slapping the back of his chair from time to time when he could no longer control himself. As his face became a darker hue of red, Eliot and the other guards simply diverted their eyes in helplessness.

It had often been said, though not within the ears of the emperor, that it was a shame Croesus had inherited all of his father’s looks yet none of the man’s compassion. Instead, Croesus possessed his mother’s temperament—a hot-blooded princess from Crete, exiled to Lydia in a marriage she had never desired.

The emperor’s hard footsteps created a worn path in the rug’s design. Standing tall and mighty, he commanded attention as a man, let alone as the emperor. He momentarily toyed with the idea of summoning the head of the royal guard and having Bestreld executed but the rash decision would be regretted. Bestreld, as exchequer to the kingdom, was the only one with any grasp of Lydia’s enormous finances.

The scope of Croesus’s wealth had become legendary to merchants and emissaries alike. All did not view the emperor’s achievements from the same perspective, however. Ambassadors from throughout the continent had commended Croesus for his tastes and finery—the emperor had raised the position of desert ruler to an enviable height. Meanwhile, tradesmen continued to grow angrier because of the steep duty payments, totally unreasonable for men who struggled at a level of bare subsistence. Croesus indulged himself with great sums of money, giving little thought to the kingdom beyond palace walls.

Silken draperies from the East hung upon every wall of Croesus’s fortified palace. Polished gold and silver fineries adorned waxed tabletops for mere decoration, or created scenes in miniature of tiny castles, armed soldiers and slender maidens for Croesus to grasp in fascination and imagine as part of his widening influence. The scent of spice and fine incense lingered throughout hallways, keeping the smells of desert sweat, parched soil, and diseased alleyways nearly imperceptible. Within the center of the throne room two ivory tusks stood side-by-side, displaying the emperor’s growing appreciation for the arts of craftsmanship. In spite of such vast riches, thievery within the castle was unknown. There were far too many eager to tell Croesus of some real or imagined deceit.

Suddenly, Bestreld entered the chamber with much dignity and far too much calm.

“Your life hangs on your first utterance!” Croesus shouted angrily.

“Has my lord forgotten all that was to be accomplished before my arrival? There was much to be done.”

“Your presence was requested immediately!”

“Sometimes even an emperor must wait for the timely execution of his commands. Were it not so,” Bestreld shrugged helplessly, “much preparation would be wasted.”

Croesus came around to the front of his throne and sat down just as Bestreld moved closer. The emperor’s face remained hot with anger but he motioned the exchequer to continue, “What have you learned?”

“That much might be had for a price in Araby,” Bestreld replied, “and that even a servant’s lips might be loosed for a sum.”

Croesus nodded in agreement, and with a wave of his hand dismissed Eliot and the other guards. When the two were alone the emperor voiced the question that had been on his mind all morning:

“So tell me,” his eyes glowed with eager excitement, “how might Lydia defeat the scattered tribes of the plains?”