"Of Princes And Slaves"
Part 7
by Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll
- Prince Nekhem (Orli) -
Glaring sunlight pierced my eyelids, painful smears of brilliant white bursting into my mind, and with a certain amount of confusion, I struggled to wake.
Hadn't I been sleeping underneath some makeshift tent so I would not be lying in the plain sun in morning? Also, I was resting with my back against some sandy slope, and I could clearly remember having taken great care to find an appropriate spot for lying down last evening. Something was not as it ought to be.
I tried to get one of my arms out from underneath me, and
realised with quite some shock and irritation that they were tied together
at the wrists. By Sobekh, what was this all about? Had my brother's forces
managed to track us down and crept up at night?
Still my eyes didn't want to open, and by trying to roll onto my side, I also
noticed that my ankles must be tied together in similar fashion.
Cursed traitors, whoever had done this!
Forcing my eyes open by sheer force of will, I could see nothing for a while but glaring smears of different whites. Then, some of the white settled down to become brilliantly lit sand, and the rest stayed upward to shape something like a bleached sky above me.
I was lying somewhere in the open desert, tied up like a roast, trying hard to make sense of my unexpected calamity with my sleep-numbed mind.
All the cursed treacheries of Seth, what was this?!
With an effort, I made myself turn around to my other side,
clumsy like a huge caterpillar, managing to dip my face thoroughly into the
warm sand in the process.
Spitting and cursing at the same time, I looked around, trying to find a reason
for all this, until my eyes locked onto a dark shape at my admittedly restricted
horizon.
Two horses, one man were standing there, the man apparently busy getting them
ready for a trip.
MY horses, and my slave.
"Hey, slave!", I yelled, my throat raspy with little use today. "I'm bound! Come here!"
My barbarian slave only looked over his shoulder, apparently not compelled in the slightest to follow my command. Had he betrayed me to my brother? Unthinkable, why should he?
"You!", I yelled again, "COME HERE!"
This time, he turned around, walking over to where I lay in deliberately unhurried strides.
He was wearing the dark cloth that until the last evening had formed my tent, slung around his head and shoulders in the fashion of his people. And his stance clearly was no longer the one of a slave, but of a warrior, proud and menacing.
"What do you want?", he asked, a slight breeze playing with the ends of the cloth. I had never before notice how deep his voice was, how determined he could be.
"What is this all about?", I asked with my confusion clearly showing in my voice. "Have you bound me?"
Instead of a reply, he answered with a snort, adding matter-of-factly:
"We're going home."
"What?" This all didn't make sense. "But my brother's still in Theben, and I –"
"We're going to MY home, boy.", he cut me off. "My home, my people."
And pointing at me, he added snugly:
"MY slave."
HIS slave? The audacity of what he had said made me miss a heartbeat. This was just... unthinkable!
And it hurt. Hurt so much as I knew I never done anything to deserve his betrayal.
"Why – How can you do this to me?", I asked him, blinking up to the dark figure looming above me against the pale morning sky. "After all that I've done for you?"
My desert warrior knelt down into the sand next to me, facing me, his expression full of disgust.
"After all you have done TO me", his hissed spitefully, snorting in disgust as he saw my eyes brimming with tears.
Why did it have to hurt that much? Oh Mother Isis, what had I done to deserve this?
The barbarian straightened up again, and briskly walked over to the horses again.
He truly meant to bring me home to his people as his SLAVE.
And I had trusted him. The pain of his treason hurt all the more for the stupidity
I felt within myself for trusting him.
How could I ever have been so naive and trust the word of a barbarian?
Smart I was, yes, but apparently unable to survive in this
world of backstabbing treachery.
First my brother, my title, and now him. All lost.
When he gave me some water to drink, I could not even bring myself to speak to him, and when he finally threw me over one of our horses, binding my hands to my feet across the animal's belly, I was numb with shock.
O Mother Goddess, what had I done to anger you so much?
Why have you deserted me?
----
Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr)
The desert surrounded me with her smells and feel like a mother welcoming her long lost child against her breast. The heat of the unrelenting sun soaking the cloth I had wrapped around me, soaking my skin as well, bringing fire back to my blood. The smell of sand and wind, a faint breeze caressing my skin. The familiar sounds of hoofs quietly and regularly thudding on sand and the distant cry of a vulture. I might not be with my people yet, but I was home.
Still a smile would not come to my face. It was a gamble to return to my tribe. The facts were still true: I had been defeated and captured. I had not died an honorable death but been defiled by the city dwellers. But I had also managed to capture the one who had disgraced me. Maybe that would be enough to prove to my people that my ancestors looked with approval on me.
Still the image of my father turning away from me in shame forced his way into my mind and a cold shiver ran down my spine. What if there was no way back?
I looked over to the silent form of the princeling. It had been ridiculously easy. He hadn't even woken up when I tied his hands and feet. How could a weakling like that be blessed by the gods? Truly, there was no denying he was a beauty, but beautiful boys usually ended up as the cute toys of warriors. Not as princes. Had he not been born to a father as powerful he would never have made it.
And he had really actually trusted me. He had been warned aplenty. Not only by his guard's captain but also by me. How could anybody be that stupid. Why, by all the spirits of the earth, had he insisted on taking me - and only me - along on this journey?
Remembering the way he had looked at me this morning, his eyes brimming with tears, so utterly crestfallen and devastated I could almost have pitied him. But it was not like I was doing anything to him that he hadn't done to me. Probably I was even saving his life by taking him as my slave. He would certainly have done something stupid and gotten himself killed by his brother had I not done it.
I snorted in disgust at my own thoughts. Why was I justifying taking my revenge on the boy? He had soiled my soul. Maybe even beyond redemption. I should feel happy. I should feel better. I would feel better, once I was home.
I scanned the horizon for the familiar rock formation of "Weeping Wind". I had been here a hundred times and even though it was still hidden behind the dunes I could already hear the faint keening that was a sure sign that we were getting nearer. From there it would be only a days ride to the small oasis were my tribe should be now.
Imagining what it would look like to see the familiar tents clustered around the water finally made me smile. I could almost hear my sisters laughing and singing as they sat before my father's tent, weaving and mending and cooking and watching the warriors of the tribe with their shinning black eyes. Two of them were married now, three still lived with my father. My mother had been blessed with five daughters but only two sons. And me, my father and brother loved every single one of them dearly. Their laughter was like rain. Silvery, clear and refreshing. To hear it once more, that would be like washing off all the dread and fear.
And my brother. How I longed to ride with him. How I longed to go hunting, to train with him, to sit with him in the night during watch, quietly. How I missed his sharp eyes guarding my back, how I missed his generous heart holding me dear.
What would it be like, when I got back? I would have to find a new horse. This one was fine for a journey but not fit to hunt or take into battle. I would have to prove my place again. But I would, given a just chance.
Again my thoughts were drawn back to the princeling. What should I do with him? For the first time I really managed to think beyond my returning and I realized with a feeling of wonder, that I had no idea what exactly 'taking revenge' would encompass. He had robbed me of my honor and my pride, he had used me against my will repeatedly. He had hurt me to the very core of my being, very nearly breaking me. So what kind of revenge did that call for? He should suffer for an eternity. But that would make me just as vile as he was.
Mentally I ticked of his offenses. Rob him of his honor and pride. Well, as he didn't seem to have any honor that wasn't going to happen but he was certainly out of pride. Use him... I looked back at him and a smirk formed in the corner of my mouth. Now that was something I could life with. The heat of desire pooled in my groin just thinking about it. Yes, I did long for this beautiful boy. Just not the way he might wish. And suddenly it was much easier to admit it.
And he was hurt already by what he perceived as betrayal. Again I shook my head. How could he trust me? Such stupidity was just unbelievable.
--
Another hour passed till we reached the 'Weeping Wind'. I rested the horses for a couple of minutes in the shade of the rocks and gave them some water. As we had moved in the slow trod that was best in the heat, they were not overly tired and nibbled some dry grass that grew close to the base of the rock formation.
The prince didn't move. He hadn't moved at all since we had set out this morning but I was not worried. His breathing was still regular and I had covered his unprotected back with a part of the tent cloth. Didn't want to get my pretty slave damaged after all. The thought was so alien I chuckled to myself.
I walked over to him with the water bag and raised his head by his chin to give him some. He refused to look at me but that was not too surprising. He would get used to being a slave. I had too. He drank greedily enough. Spending all of his life in the shadows of their giant buildings the heat had to be quite straining for him. But he didn't complain. Didn't deign to talk to me. He would learn how to behave.
Keeping the hold on his chin a while longer I looked at his face. Truly looked at him for the first time. Noticed how the long lashes of his closed eyes showed against his bronze colored skin, how soft and inviting his lips looked, even now that he was unconsciously pouting in annoyance at his situation, noticed the sweet tip of his nose. And he was all mine. Maybe fate was kinder than I had thought. I let go of his chin then but couldn't keep my hand from affectionately ruffling his short curly hair. How much better he looked without that ridiculous long-haired wig.
--
The rest of our journey passed just as quietly. He didn't say a word when we rested in the cool of the night. Didn't look at me when I fed him some stripes of dry meat and gave him more water. I only slept a few hours during the night, keeping watch the rest of the time. Mostly watching him toss and turn while he tried to get comfortable with his bound hands. Had he just swallowed his pride and asked I would have freed him for the night. But high and mighty prince Nekhem rather suffered than spoke to the traitorous barbarian.
Still I again almost pitied him when he finally fell asleep and groaned in his sleep with some nightmare. It was unexpectedly hard not to go to him, to take him in my arms and comfort him. He looked so small and helpless.
The day passed slowly. I resisted the urge to kick the horses into a canter. That would have strained them too much. Like the princeling they were not used to the heat. No desert horses like the ones my tribe bred.
But finally, when the sun dipped towards the horizon, I caught a faint whiff of water on the breeze, heard the neighing of horses and then the call of a sentry I hadn't even noticed, so intend was I on reaching my home.
I saw him high on a dune then, a dark figure against the setting sun. I could not make out his features but his posture showed clearly that he was of the tribes, he was part of my home. I did not react to his presence. Until the moment my father took me back in, I was a stranger and I would have disgraced any warrior I talked to.
He rode parallel to me, drawing nearer the oasis and shortly after another one appeared on my other side. They must we wondering who I was. None of them would recognize me, as all of them would believe me to be dead.
And then I crested the last dune and looked down at the oasis. Looked down at the tents of my tribe. Horses grazing close by, cooking fires tended by the women, warriors curiously looking back up at me. So close, yet still so far.
I stopped on that last dune to wait. I would not disgrace my people by going any closer.
It took a while. My heart beat painfully in my chest, as I watched my father emerge from his tent, shielding his eyes against the setting sun to gaze up at the strange rider waiting outside his camp. One of the sentries who had accompanied me rode down and I watched them confer. I slowly unwrapped the cloth covering my face while my father called for his horse. And then I watched with fear, as he made his way towards me.
I knew the moment he finally recognized me by the sudden expression of joy in his face and my heart cried out in anguish when I saw him clamp down on his feelings, when I saw the shadow of fear fall on his heart.
Before he even reached the crest of the dune I got off my horse and fell down on one knee, bowing my head before my father, the leader of my tribe. His horse stopped right next to me and I waited.
"What brings you to my tribe, stranger?" I heard his familiar voice, flat and clipped, afraid of betraying the emotions that must be teeming in his heart.
"This warrior has been captured by his enemies," I replied, not able to keep a note of pain and fear from my own voice, "this warrior has lost his honor in captivity. Yet he has managed to escape his enemies and capture his captor to seek revenge and redeem himself. This warrior dares not ask anything but lays his fate in the hands of a leader renowned for his wisdom." I did not know if anything like this had ever happened before. Because if it had nobody would ever talk about it. If a warrior was taken back in his honor must be restored and none would dare talk of his former disgrace.
The silence stretched for so long I wished for the sand to open up and swallow me. It was unbearable.
"To survive in greatest peril is an achievement to honor and praise," my father finally said and my heart cried out in joy when his hands touched my shoulder and drew me up to my feet, "a warrior who survives disgrace has nothing to fear, death is no enemy to him." he continued. "I would be proud to call such a warrior my son. And I welcome Ardeth Bey back to his tribe."
----
- Prince Nekhem (Orli) -
I know the favor of the gods is a fickle thing, hard to gain yet easy to lose.
I had been a Prince of the Realm, respected by all, and yet within but a few days, I had turned first into a refugee and then into a desert barbarian's slave. I never thought that fate could move that fast. But it had, and I still struggled to understand why of all people I apparently had lost the gods favor.
The flap of the tent I had been unceremoniously been dumped
in opened, and one of the barbarian women entered. She could not be any older
than I was, and the girls that followed her could only have been her younger
sisters.
Clad from head to toe in the dark, flowing robes of the desert people, they
seemed strange, like exotic birds intriguedly hopping around and unfamiliar
water-hole.
"Isn't he cute?", the first one whispered, and her sisters came closer to have a thorough look at me.
'Cute', was by no means a word to attach to a Prince of the Realm, and yet apparently, it was what first came into these people's minds whenever they saw me.
When we had arrived in this camp earlier today, after a humiliating
two-days ride through the open desert, bound onto a horse like some piece
of loot, I had first been widely ignored, then thrown off the horse next to
some tent, then been ignored some more.
Only this bunch of women seemed to have some interest in me, for the kept
flocking around me not so unlike the vultures that we had seen on our way
here. Yet, they were far nicer to look at than those carrion-eaters, and had
they been clad appropriately, they surely would have been beautiful. Fierce
and dark, their eyes keenly pierced the gloom of their veils and their appraising
glances, though completely inappropriate, were not wholly unwelcome.
They struck me as a pack of chattering girls, not so unlike the ones I could see at home in court, yet they were dark where our girls were fair, and where among my people, I was treated like the prince I was, here apparently I was an exquisite novelty some warrior had brought home as spoils of war.
"Look at his lashes!", one of the girls exclaimed happily. "I've never seen them so long on anyone!"
"And his skin is so smooth, like a child's", the next one giggled. "So soft."
"He's got skin the color of sand, so fair...."
"If his hands are as cute?"
"No!", the eldest sister interrupted her brethren's amused chatter. "Ardeth said we were not to touch him. And we won't, will we?"
Reluctantly, the other girls refrained from turning me over to chatter about the qualities of my hands. Or the lack thereof, respectively.
Ardeth.
That was his name. My slave's name, the one he had been trying to keep safe
from me for such a long time. Ardeth Bey, this was the name he had been greeted
with when we arrived at his people's tents.
And I was his captor, captured by him in return, to suffer for what I had
done to him, as a means of redemption for his loss of honor. Or something
like that.
How could the gods allow such a thing to happen? I had always
kept up their laws, respected their ways, and yet I got abandoned by them
with no visible cause.
This single thought rattled my mind since I had woken that dreadful morning
when I found myself betrayed by the one person I had still hoped I could trust.
He had given me his word!
Even now, as I had two days to get accustomed to the fact
that suddenly, I was the slave, his betrayal still hurt like the very first
moment.
And if I hadn't seen the reason for this by now, I probably never would. With
a sigh and a mental effort, I tried to end this fruitless pondering and turned
my attention towards the clod of young women hovering around me.
"What will be expected of me, now that I am supposed to be a slave?"
Suddenly, all conversation in the little tent subsided. For a moment, it was so quite that I could hear the soft crackling of the fire in the middle of the camp.
"Are we allowed to talk to him?", one of the girls asked the eldest one. "Ardeth only said we mustn't touch, nothing about not speaking with him."
The oldest girl looked at me for quite a while, then replied:
"I think it is alright if we talk to him. After all, he's going to share our brother's tent for a long time, and sooner or later, we'll have to speak to him anyway."
Her brother? So these must be the sisters of my slave. My former slave, that is.
She turned her attention to me, and in the low light of the tent I could see a golden light gracing her pitch-dark eyes, turning them from beautiful to stunningly gorgeous. Her high cheekbones and the willful mouth made her look as regal as any Egyptian queen. She would have been worth a king's ransom on a slave market.
"My brother will keep you for whatever duties he pleases", she said carefully, yet another of her sisters added giggling:
"Though it's not difficult to guess what those will be, judging by the way you look."
Delighted laughter broke out among the girls, only to be shouted down by their eldest sister.
"Cut it, sisters! Whatever it will be, it's not our place to judge it. And especially not to make fun of it." Turning her gaze back to me again, her look gained a compassionate note as she asked:
"Are you alright? Will you need anything? Ardeth said you hadn't spoken since he captured you."
Given the fact that I was lying at her feet, my hands bound behind my back, dusty and in complete disarray, her question was close to hilarious. But she meant only good, trying to give what little help she could.
"I haven't spoken for I had nothing left to say to an oathbreaker. But yes, I could use some water. And someone will have to cut these ropes sometime soon, if I'm not to keep permanent damage." Looking at her insecure face, I added: "Though that best should be left to your brother."
"I think so as well", she answered carefully, then adding to one of the others: "Go, Dear, fetch us a water-skin, would you?"
The addressed girl nodded and slid out of the tent, her movement no more than a whisper of the wind.
"You do not look like a warrior...", the woman stated after a moment of ponderous silence.
"No, I do not. But what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. I just wondered how you managed to capture my brother. It surely could not have been an easy fight."
"Woman", I asked with more spite in my voice than actually intended. "If I had truly captured him – would I be here today?"
She looked at me for a long moment, and then, with an enigmatic half-smile, answered:
"No, probably not. But maybe –"
Suddenly, the tent-flap was thrown open again, and with a
small commotion, another figure entered the dimly-lit room.
This time, it was Ardeth himself, now completely clad in the black garb of
the desert-people, standing there like the warrior he was and never had stopped
being. He held his little sister his one hand, the water-skin in his other,
his expression stern and somehow – regal.
"What is all this fussing around?", he asked, his voice full and strong, so unlike the way he had spoken when he still had been my slave. Or had been pretending at being so.
"We have had a look at your slave, brother dear", the oldest sister answered. "And as you have asked for, we have never even touched him once."
"Sure you didn't", Ardeth grumbled in mock disbelief. Apparently, he and his high-spirited sisters got along quite well, though not without occasional quarrels. "Get out of my tent, all of you!", he ordered, grinning widely while doing so. "I want to be alone with my slave."
Silently and swiftly, the women left the tent one by one, though at least some of them were unable to suppress a soft giggle.
Whatever was to follow now, I was not looking forward to it. He had already betrayed me once, and I just didn't want to know what would happen next.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus & Beryll
go to PART 8