"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 2
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

 

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

Coming back to my senses was confusing and painful. My head swam with dizziness, the wound in my shoulder throbbed with the itchy feeling of flesh slowly knitting, my whole body felt abused and mistreated. And there was another pain that I did not wish to think about. A pain that clamored for my attention.

I closed my eyes tighter against the hazy memories of the prince's hands on me, of what he had done to my helpless body. Thankfully there were not images as I had not been clear enough to look at him and the memories of what exactly he had done were dim as well, clouded by the drug they had given me. Briefly I wondered if the healer had done that on purpose to spare me the full brunt of my humiliation.

But it did not matter. I had been awake enough to know that he had used me and shamed me beyond redemption. My honor was destroyed as was any hope to ever be able to reclaim it. I would live in shame for however long he would keep me and then die a shameful death. And after that my soul would be lost, wandering the dark places of the earthly realm, forever forbidden to enter the afterlife where I would have shamed the spirits of my ancestors as well.

I fought hard to keep down tears of desperation and at least managed that. Although a bitter voice in my head asked why I bothered to do so, I could not sink lower than this. So why continue fighting? But the will to survive and the ways of a warrior were ingrained too deeply in my being to shed them so quickly.

Slowly I opened my eyes, becoming aware of my surroundings again. I recalled dimly, that the previous day I had been put in a wagon and transported elsewhere but my mind had still been in the grip of the drug too much to find out more.

It was still dark but I could hear the gentle sounds of father Nile lapping at the shores of his path. I was still lying on the wagon, my hands tied in front of me not to strain the healing wound, but the wagon stood still and I could see that a small camp had been erected for the night next to the river. A large barge was anchored to the shore.

It was still at least two hours until dawn but the camp was already waking up and that was probably what had woken me up as well. Although the soldiers were moving quietly as if they were trying not to disturb the night. They were starting to pack things onto the barge, not their equipment but the personal belongings of their prince.

For a brief moment I hoped that I would be left behind. That the prince would be satisfied with the one time he had had me and would leave me for his men to finish off. A shameful death - yes - but at least then it would be over.

But that gentle warning voice in my head whispered to me, that with that death my torment would only be multiplied as it would irrevocably deny me any chance at reclaiming my honor. I shook my head sadly to myself. There was no way. Not only had I been taken captive by the godless people, I had been taken over by them, my soul now tainted by their evil. How could I be so foolish to still cling to hope? I shoved the feeling away from me, giving myself over to the misery that waited to claim me.

When the soldiers came to take me to the barge I followed them meekly, my eyes fixed on my own feet. Slave to my own desperation even more than slave to them.

They led me to the afterdeck where an airy tent had been erected for the prince's use while he was on board. He was nowhere to be seen and I concluded that he must still be asleep and that this was the reason everybody was so hushed.

There was a grand bed in the middle of the tent but I was led to a small pallet in a corner. One of the soldiers took out chains and fixed heavy shackles to my wrists, joined by a short chain that would make it impossible to fight. Another chain was fixed to this one and fastened to a heavy iron ring set into the floor of the deck. It was just long enough so I could walk over to the bed, should the prince wish me there. Finally they cut off the ropes that had still been binding me.

I sat down on the pallet cross-legged and mutely stared at my own dirty feet, feeling exposed and helpless. They had only given me a short linen skirt like all of their slaves wear. Not a fitting garb for a warrior, as I was used to wearing more clothing than even their most heavily armored soldiers did. But I was not a warrior anymore, I reminded myself. Just another slave.

The sun slowly crested the horizon but I did not look up to greet it. There was emptiness in my heart and the warm light filling it would have made it that more vast and daunting.

Not even when I heard sandaled feet approach did I look up. Only when they stopped right in front of me, entering my field of vision did I emerge a bit from the dark gloominess that had settled over me.

"Are you feeling better?" A voice asked that I recognized as belonging to the prince.

I did not look up at him but nodded mutely. I did not want to see his eyes, afraid of the hunger I might find there. I had not wanted to answer either but stubbornness would probably just have resulted in more questions. Obviously I had judged right, as the feet left my field of vision again and I heard the prince lay down on the bed with a soft sigh of contentedness.

For a moment I tensed up, fearing he would summon me, not knowing what I would have done if he did. But there was only silence and slowly I sank back into my bleak sadness shrouding myself in my own misery.

----

- Prince Nekhem (Orlando) -

So, finally we were on our cruise back home to Theben, royal capital of the eternal realm of Egypt.
I was happy when my feet touched the planks of the barge, travelling along father Nile always is a very special thing, even if I had traveled this way so many times before. It would just be two-days journey downstream, drifting leisurely with the dark waters, but I was thoroughly going to enjoy this.
At sunrise, I had been with the priests asking the gods for a safe and swift journey, and had been honored with the task of leading the prayers myself. I have to admit I was proud that even here, two days away from the capital, I was respected enough among the priests to be trusted with such important a duty.

So, when I entered the small pavilion on the largest barge that would be my home for the next two days, the fact that my new barbarian slave was sitting on his bench in the gloomiest mood one could imagine somewhat clashed with my own, soaring spirits.

"Are you feeling better?", I asked, trying to convey a sense of friendly care.

But this stubborn man only nodded silently, obviously hoping I would just go away if he muted up long enough.
Well, I thought when I dropped myself onto my bed, he's not going to get rid of me that easily, and giving the sign to the captain to set off, I asked him:

"What is your name?"

"My name has died with my honor", he answered after some moments of silence, somberly and without moving.

Now what funny barbarian superstition was that about?

"So what was your name before you lost it?", I made another attempt, but this time he just preferred to say nothing at all.

What a stubborn person. I studied his features, once more fascinated by his strong, intense looks, the way the markings on his face added to his somber, exotic appearance. I would be nice to see him smile, I thought. Very nice.

"Is it about the drugs? I haven't ordered them to do so, and those responsible will be punished. I have to apologize for that."

Now what was this? A prince of the realm apologizing to a slave? How exceedingly inappropriate, I heard my father's advisors mutter in shock. But this was neither the first time I did something utterly unheard-of, nor would it be the last.

But my handsome barbarian only snorted softly, saying:

"I did not expect you to understand about my honor."

Now that was preposterous.

"And why do you think a prince of the realm would not understand about honor? After all, I offer you a live as an honored member of my household instead of being toy to some dirty grunts."

With a sudden motion, my slave's head jerked around, his eyes blazing at me with blistering bale.

"You godless city-dwellers worship spirits of evil", he hissed, and his returned fervor reminded me of the man that had set my blood afire when I first saw him.

"This is dangerous talking", I said softly. "With so many priests around..."

"And what could they do to worsen my state?", he growled in such a nihilist way I felt a pang of pity in my heart. After all, he had been ripped out of his culture, defeated, enslaved, and probably was feeling very lost.

"I was not threatening you. I was trying to warn you, for you are an honored member of my household, and I would loathe to see you suffer."

"There is no honor in my existence.", my barbarian grumbled, returning to stare at his feet in almost challenging silence.

"And why's that?", I asked, somewhat intrigued by this strange conception of honor, though I was beginning to feel annoyed as well, for seeing my benevolence rejected so bluntly was something I could not stand for long.

"Isn't it enough that you have shamed me? Do you have to press this on me?"

"When have I shamed you?", I asked in reply, now clearly angered by his constant lack of any form of gratitude.

But he just remained silent. Again.

Annoyed, I left him to his dark broodings, turning to the other side and tried to find some distraction in the green shores of the river that were drifting along in some distance. I watched the children play in the low waters, the fishermen on their canoes made of bundles of reed and papyrus. Some fellachin, the simple peasants that formed the backbone of our society, stood at the shores, watching the small fleet that accompanied my barge in awe, some of them bowing and waving in my general direction, as such a splendid array surely heralded the presence of a member of the royal family.

But all this could not rid me of the brooding presence next to me, and before long I found myself staring at my new slave, pondering hard at what he might have judged so terrible that would justify his behaviour.
How strange people could be, I wondered. He looked not much different to us, and yet in his mind he could just as well be some wholly different race. Which, probably, was the whole point, but I preferred to think that culture had a large thing to say in this as well. So, after a time, it dawned to me what might aggravated my barbarian so terribly.

"It was that I made love to you last night, isn't it? Is it that what dishonored you?"

Long silence answered me, and I was just about to turn away again, as he whispered:

"Yes."

"But why? I'm a prince of the realm, shouldn't you be proud to be allowed to serve me?"

I could see the stupidity of that even as I spoke. Just as much as the funny chieftains and eldest of his tribes did not hold any position of respect in my eyes, the Pharaoh's son for him was just another of the 'godless city-dwellers'.

"Well, probably you wouldn't", I admitted before he could snap a baleful answer at me. Just another thing that would have sent the royal advisors into fits and tantrums.

Once more, silence descended onto the pavilion, and for a long time the only sounds were the gentle slapping of the waves against the hull.

But still I could not shake off the oppressively dreary mood of my slave, and I made a last attempt to brighten him up without losing any of my honor in turn.

"Isn't there really anything I could do to lift up your spirits?"

Again, he stared at me a long time before he answered:

"You have destroyed my honor, and all that is left for me is a shameful life and a shameful death, and afterwards I will be lost forever in the bleak wastelands of your evil spirits. What could you possibly do to change that?"

Slowly I was beginning to believe that he was a hopeless case.

"I don't know", I replied with a hint of tension in my voice. "That is why I'm asking you."

"Oh, what would a 'prince of the realm' possibly not know about?"

Such a mean bastard! Why was I trying to be nice to him at all?

"At least, you know more about your kind of honor", I pressed out, forcing me to stay calm even though I had the mood to slap him. How could he be so ungrateful?

But he didn't answer. What an audaciously stubborn person!

I waited for him to answer, to say anything, but he was silent as a stone, and as motionless as one as well. So, if he prefers to have it this way, I decided, I at least tried to help him. But if he wanted to be a stubborn, unhappy slave, he could have it, I would not force him.
I would give him a few days in Theben to see if he would change his mind, and if not, sell him on to some governor or general. Or maybe just to the fields, where he would be harvesting reeds until his body would feed the crocodiles one day.

But what a waste that would be, what a waste.

----

- Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr) -

The journey down the river was a strange and somewhat frightening experience. Never before had I been so far away from my homeland. This green land filled with people was alien to me and I found myself wondering how they managed to even breath with no room to ever be alone. They huddled close to the water as if the were afraid of the sand of the desert.

Only slowly it dawned on me, that they in fact were afraid and that this fact had kept them from claiming the desert as well, stealing the last land that was left to the free tribes. I had listened countless times to the elders discussing what should be done if the city dwellers ventured further into the desert driving us to seek out the remote waterholes and the distant oasis only we knew about. If the gods demanded we fight them then or if we should just do what we had always done – leave them to their folly until the gods themselves decided to strike them down.

Now I realized that they would never come fight us out on the sands. There fear kept them bound to the river and I would have laughed at their cowardice had I not been bound and hurt and shamed.

Never before in my life had I stayed still and unmoving for such an extended amount of time. I sat on my pallet and watched the prince. He obviously had decided to largely ignore me. So I at least had found a way to flee his prying and rather stupid questions.

It confused my, why he had bothered to talk to me at all. He had claimed me as his slave and had me used for his pleasure without so much as thinking on what I might wish for. And now, that he had thoroughly destroyed me, he was starting to wonder about my state. Could he really be so careless, so unknowing? Or was he just pretending, playing some elaborate game I did not understand?

His life seemed strange enough to me. There were female dancer on the barge, who would come and perform for him but most of the time he would ignore their exquisite bodies and artful dance and just stare off towards the shore. At other times he would read scrolls brought to him by slaves with rapt attention, ignoring everything around him.

Sometimes he let his slaves feed him grapes and honeyed cakes, looking bored and tired, at other times he would politely enquire after this or that bit of personal well-being of his slaves, seeming genuinely interested and his slaves seemed to truly adore and love him.

Obviously he took all of their adoration for granted, enjoying or dismissing it as carelessly at he had treated my honor. In his eyes nothing except himself and the evil spirits he worshipped seemed to hold worth. Still all I could truly fault him with was this carelessness, not an inbred evil.

So I watched the prince and I thought. For that was the only thing I could do without attracting undesired attention. Strangely enough it was the last question of the prince himself that kept my mind occupied. Was there any way to lift that curse of misery that held me down and made me all but unable to even face the brightness of the sun that was the symbol of hope for my people.

Nothing I had learned had prepared me for this cruel situation where I was trapped without a means to escape. For even should I manage to escape, where would I have gone? I could not go back to my people. Having been taken prisoner was bad enough but after what the prince had done to me I could not have faced them. Shamed them by my presence. And even if I found a place to live, what life would that be? Waiting for the ultimate humiliation at my death.

As it is custom to forget the names of those who have shamed the tribe, I did not know of anybody who may have faced the same questions. I would have to come to terms with this new, unwanted life that was thrust upon me by myself.

And during the long days of watching the prince the frightening realization dawned on my, that I would not be able to just bury myself in misery and wait for the end. As much as I might wish to do that, the more my wound was healing and the pain left my body, the clearer I saw that it was not in me to surrender that easily. I was a warrior to the core of my being. Shamed or not, I could not give up, even if I wanted to.

As unrelenting as a hungry vulture my thoughts circled the problem viewing it from every possible angle, trying to find an opening. There was none that I could see. Now. But that did not mean there was none. A careful hunter observes a cunning prey to trap and kill it and does not run after it exerting himself. So my father had taught me. So I resigned myself to watching and learning.

'As long as there is life there is hope'. A saying of my mother this time. Only that nobody had ever been able to redeem himself after suffering shame like I had didn't necessary mean there was no way to do it.

Maybe my ancestors had turned from me. Maybe I was tribeless and nameless. But my mind was still sharp, my body would grow strong again. I would find a way. I really had nothing better to do anyway.

Having come to that conclusion I went back to watching the prince that now owned me, trying to familiarize myself with him. He was the reason for my shame so he might hold a way out of it as well. Willing or unwilling.

Looking at him from this hunters point of view made me realize new things about him. For one, he was still quite young, barely out of his boyhood. He acted with the confidence of an elder though and seemed to have the intellect and authority to force his servants to comply.

On the morning of the second day of our journey down the river, one of his other slaves came over to me, carrying a sharp knife and a bowl of water. Having seen them use these tools before I knew that he wanted to shear my beard and hair, robbing me of the last outer trappings of my warrior being.

I would not have fought him, but the prince had other ideas. The moment he noticed his slave set a knife to my long hair, he growled in anger.

"Do not cut his hair!" He commanded.

The slave looked at him in confusion and had I not guarded my expression so closely I would have mirrored him.

"I want him like he is now." The prince explained, almost patiently. "Why do you think I take a barbarian slave when you then just make him look as ordinary as all my other slaves. It is his exotic looks that I like."

The slave bowed in obedience, though it was quite clear that he had no idea what his master was talking about, and left.

The prince looked at me, smiling, as if waiting for some grateful remark on my part. I just lowered my head staring at my feet again, carefully wrapping my aura of depression around me. It would not do to have him realize that I was not as broken and desperate as he thought me to be. That would rob me of what small advantage I might have gained from his disinterest in me. And it would do even less if he noticed that I in deed was grateful for being allowed to retain the way I looked.

After waiting a long moment I glanced up at him again and found him staring out at the riverbanks, his attention gone from me. But it was still important to know that he had not completely lost his interest in me. Although I was not sure if that was a good thing or not. He did treat me with a certainly friendliness now but that could change easily. I would have to study him further to decide on that.

If I had the time for that. He might pretend to be patient but to me he looked like a spoiled brat in many regards and I was sure he would not suffer my behavior forever. Then he would either sell me or have me killed. And I realized with a bit of surprise that I did not want that. I was not that desperate yet.

On the evening of that second day we came to his home. I had picked up the name of the city where we were going from the other slaves but so far it had not meant anything to me. Theben. Now I felt a mixture of awe and fear rise in my throat.

No human being should be able to build things that dwarf the reactions of the gods. But the buildings of the godless people rose towards the sky, defying all laws of nature. Impossibly tall, some monumental like mountains, some slender and not comparable to anything I had ever seen.

I stared at the buildings lining the Nile in open amazement and for once I did not take care to conceal my true feelings and after a while I realize that the prince was watching me with bemusement and satisfaction. He liked that fact, that I had finally shown a reaction. And by the look on his face one could almost have believed that he had made all these things just to impress me.

Again he smiled at me, benevolently like I was some stupid boy and for the first time since my capture another emotion than desperation welled up in me. I hated him for his perceived superiority and I quickly lowered my head not to let him see the burning in my eyes.

He laughed softly and I did not dare raise my head again to find out why.

The rest of the journey I kept my gaze to the ground.

Soon we reached our destination and the barge was anchored at marble steps, leading out into the Nile. I heard the sound of the prince's sandals leave the tent and only when I was sure that he was gone did I look up again.

The building towering above the barge was impossibly huge. No human being would ever need that much room to live in. No human being should ever be so preposterous as to call a place like that home. But obviously the prince did. I watched his back disappear through a high portal.

The other slaves were not really sure what to do with me now, so one of them approached me cautiously, freeing me from the chain binding me to the ring in the floor but not from the one restraining my hands.

He told me to follow him to the prince's chambers. He obviously expected a stubborn reaction but I just got up from my pallet and meekly obeyed. Why would I fight another slave who had not harmed me in any way? Why would I fight at all as there was not really anything to fight for anymore?

I followed through endless high hallways that seemed to serve no other purpose but to intimidate the inhabitants of this palace. All the walls were richly carved and painted and I wondered at all these depictions of human might. Did these people really believe they could rule over the unbendable powers of nature and the gods of the sky?

Then we reached the chambers of the prince and I almost gasped in shock at the splendor and sheer space opening before me. The room – if one could call it that – was wide enough to hold the whole camp of my tribe and disappeared into unfathomable heights.

It was separated into two parts by a double line of sleek columns rising away into the twilight of the room. And between those columns ran a small stream of fresh water, feeding a big pool in the middle of the room. Even from where I could standing at the entrance to this hall I could see water-lilies drifting on the pool and I heard the soft sound of Ibises muttering to themselves, napping at the edge of the pool.

The slave accompanying me pushed me forward, now daring to touch me as I had shown no sign of resistance so far and then led me on towards the small stream. This side of the room held an arrangement of sitting places, a long table that held curious objects I did not know, another table with writing materials and many boards with things that obviously held value or interest for the prince.

What was mostly absent were weapons or armor of any kind and that confirmed my assumption that this prince was aspiring to become a wise man rather than a fighter.

The other side of the room beyond the stream where I was now led held only one large piece of furniture. A wide bed on a slightly raised podium, surrounded by gauze curtains.

I felt cold creep up my back at the sight of this bed for I was rather sure, why it was here that the slave was taking me and the memories of being tied to another bed not too long ago rose inside me, making me shiver. My steps got slower and slower and I caught myself looking for soldiers that would wait to force me onto this bed as well but there were none.

"This is our master's bed." The other slave explained as if that were not obvious. "You will sleep close by so you will be handy when he has need of you."

His choice of words made me shiver again, but I kept my gaze lowered and nodded so he would not be able to discern what went on inside of me.

"I will make a place to sleep for you over there." he told me and pointed to the back wall and I again nodded mutely and then watched him leave.

Suddenly alone in the vast chamber I let my gaze sweep the whole of it, feeling the weight of so much stone and so many people in one city crush down on me. How was I ever to get used to this? How was I to survive this alien place? How was I to find a way to regain my honor and return to my people?

I did not know an answer to any of those questions but this time desperation would not come. Instead a steely resolve to find a way, no matter what the cost, settled in my heart.

 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll

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