The Forgotten Tale Of Larsa (15 page)

‘I must tell Marmicus the truth – it’s the only way. I have to tell him that the woman he mourned wasn’t the princess. By the gods, I pray he’s forgiving, otherwise I shall be roasting on a skewer by sunrise!’ King Nelaaz was prepared to do anything in his power to ease his guilt, even if it meant biting off more than his chubby little mouth could chew …

Dressed in silk and drowning in beauty, the princess sat silently waiting for the Assyrian emperor; she had been taken to another magnificent throne room which stood as testimony to the emperor’s wealth and love of luxury. Rich textures and colours filled the colossal throne room, drawing gasps of envy from other kings who had paid homage to him; the high walls were intricately carved and painted with images of Jaquzan as an almighty god. On one wall was painted an enormous tableau of the emperor cradling the sun and the moon within his palms. His hands were so tightly gripped around them that he appeared to be squeezing them of light, implying that Jaquzan was the master of the universe and giver of all seasons. But the eyes were easily distracted from these arrogant depictions. The presence of two enormous winged bulls made of solid granite, standing either side of the emperor’s colossal throne, created the focal point of the chamber. The Assyrian emperor had indeed built himself a palace worthy of a god, and Larsa despised him for it.

Larsa felt her eyes begin to blur and her throat tingle with irritation; the emperor’s evil presence seemed to drain the air of its purity.

‘The emperor is coming,’ said one guard. He hastily knelt down, then prostrated himself, the line of guardsmen following him; their faces were level with the mosaic floor like a pack of submissive dogs waiting for their master’s arrival. It was an act of pure obedience. Larsa could not hear his footsteps, but she did not doubt her nose. Jaquzan’s body was always showered in powerful musk that marked his arrival in the divine chamber, acting as a warning sign to all those who served him.
It seems that the emperor’s perfume is as intolerable as his aura
, Larsa reflected with distaste as she knelt, ready to bow before her master …

Rising from the floor after bowing obediently before the mighty Emperor of Assyria, Larsa watched Jaquzan take to his throne. His cold, hard eyes were like the sea at night; they revealed nothing apart from fragments of obscure light that reflected off them.

‘You have done well, oh glorious princess, for it is never easy for a lioness to be obedient to any master,’ said the emperor coldly. His face was proportionally perfect except for his pupils, which were slightly different sizes.

‘I bow before you only because I’m forced to, not because I wish to.’

‘You deceive yourself. Every soul is blessed with choice, and you have chosen to bow and live, whereas others before you chose to disobey and die. That is the difference between a slave and a martyr; the slave is the one who surrenders his free will, knowing that he will live in shame, but the martyr is the one who dies to protect his free will, knowing that he will die with honour. You have chosen the life of a slave and you have chosen to submit to the power of your god.’

‘I’ve chosen to bear the life of a slave only because I wish to save my people from the same plight that I’ve endured through this journey: sacrifice is what humble rulers do and what arrogant kings know nothing of. It’s the choice I’ve made, and my people will know about my sacrifice in time.’

‘If you believe that I’ll offer your people mercy simply because you’ve shown me an act of obedience, then your beauty outweighs your intelligence. Princess, I don’t
desire
obedience, I
expect
it from all my creatures, and you are no exception. Your people will die either way, and as for your Garden of the Gods, it will be flattened by the storm that I command. This is the will of your god and the order of things.’ The emperor was watching the princess from the canopy of his throne; for some reason, Larsa held his attention, unlike other queens before her.

‘Your poison will never run through my waters and it will never taint my soil,’ replied Larsa with conviction. ‘As long as Marmicus is alive, he’ll fight to protect my land and preserve the sanctity of my kingdom. There’s never been an enemy that Marmicus could not destroy. I assure you, your army will be annihilated by his sword.’ Her head was tilted towards the ceiling like any royal soul; she would not be belittled by the emperor’s overwhelming power or the intensity of his presence.

‘What we have built with our hands reveals what we have achieved in our lives, and I have built an empire worthy of gods, not of men. Your Gallant Warrior is no match for my army; he is a mere thorn in a lion’s paw. His efforts will not change what is already destined, and the fall of your kingdom is destined, princess.’

‘No man is immortal, and your grip on the earth will be undone eventually; time will make certain of this. No amount of stone shaped by your hands can undo your mortality. The only immortals are the great warriors who are remembered by the people long after they die; tyrants like you are easily forgotten.’

Suddenly, the emperor’s vacant face twitched with irritation. His dark eyebrows drew together and his lips tightened like two powerful ships colliding. The reaction was uncontrolled and inhuman, almost alien. For the first time, Jaquzan had allowed himself a recognisable expression of anger, which even Larsa feared.

‘You make a habit of being unwise, and wherever there is foolishness there will always follow regret,’ said Jaquzan.

‘If my words have offended you, then give me your punishment; let’s see if mankind truly fears a mortal god.’

‘Your punishment will come, oh glorious princess, but it will not come to you in the form of death. No, your punishment shall be far greater than your heart can ever endure,’ said the emperor. He rose from his empyrean throne and stepped towards her; his dark shadow swept against the enormous walls of the throne room, shrouding it almost completely in darkness.

‘I’m already living my punishment,’ said Larsa. ‘Nothing you do can worsen it. Death will only ease what my heart has already endured!’ She was certain of her words. At this point slavery was her greatest enemy, and death was her cherished ally, but the Assyrian emperor knew of a punishment far crueller then she could ever contemplate. It would be a punishment that would fulfil a godly purpose for him, something that would leave the scribes of history forever revisiting it.

‘You underestimate the power of your god; death is a luxury, it is a most merciful act, and I am rarely merciful to those who have transgressed beyond my bounds,’ he said as he walked around.

‘Then declare your sentence and be done with it. Whatever it is, I will not fear it and I will not fear you!’

She remained unaffected by the power that terrified others; nothing that the Assyrian emperor could say or do could frighten her in the least. Her body and mind were prepared for the greatest torture possible. When you have been broken once, you can never be broken again; you become unbreakable …

‘You’re an intriguing creature. Queens from afar have bowed before me in abundance, all of them longing to seduce me, so that they may live for another day longer, but I have spared none of them. Their lives had no value for me, and their beauty served me no purpose. However, your living has value, far more than you can comprehend or imagine, princess; your body is a symbol of sanctity admired by all men. Your blood is holy and your womb is powerful. You are fit to be touched by a god and to carry his crown within your womb.’

‘Touched by a god?’ whispered Larsa.

‘Yes, you will be touched by a god; it shall be your blessing and your curse, for I have chosen you to be the mother of my kingdom and my legacy.’ Jaquzan stared deeply into the princess’s eyes as he paced slowly around her. His bone structure was emphasised by the tight skin that moved over his bones with every word he uttered. ‘You were born for a purpose, one that is entwined with mine: with your womb you’ll provide me with an heir of pure blood and bring forth an infant worthy of my name. Our infant will be mothered by a deity and fathered by a god; he shall be the new ruler of men and the next punishment of mankind. So you see, oh glorious princess, this shall be your greatest purpose and your greatest punishment in life.’

The emperor’s plan had been revealed. Every detail had been thought of, but the plan was as salt in Larsa’s wounds.

‘My womb will never belong to you; I’d rather kill myself than succumb to your touch,’ Larsa declared. Her confidence had quickly turned to fear.

‘Then I must make certain that you bring forth my infant before you depart from this world,’ smirked the Assyrian emperor. He gently placed his hand upon the princess’s stomach, visualising what was soon to come …

My lies have gone on for far too long. I must put a stop to them!
King Nelaaz banged on the doors, hoping to wake Marmicus from his midnight rest. He was ready to confess everything he had done to his loyal friend. Unable to contain himself, King Nelaaz swung the doors open; his impatience had filled him with ample courage to do what was right for once.

‘Forgive me, Gallant Warrior, but I must reveal something to you …’

‘Let it wait until the morning, maybe then the curse of the night will not follow me into the daylight,’ said Marmicus. He was standing alone on the balcony, simply staring out into the distance, waiting for the dawn. A faint foretaste of the sun was slowly spreading across the valley, the pale first light contrasting with the darkness which covered the rest of the sky. He had been unable to sleep.

‘But it’s of great importance you should hear it now.’

‘Will your words bring the princess back to life?’ asked Marmicus. He turned towards King Nelaaz, knowing full well that the answer would be no.

‘I’m afraid that nothing I say can bring her back to life or change what’s already come to pass.’

‘Then let your words wait until the morning; let me mourn in the night and let me fight in the day, only then will I have the strength to endure my tomorrows,’ said Marmicus, looking at him.

‘If that’s what you want, then I’ll honour it,’ said King Nelaaz. ‘I just wish I had known how much you loved her. I would have done everything in my power to safeguard her.’

‘Every husband loves his wife.’

‘No, not every husband, my dear friend. I have four wives, and if any of them died I’d celebrate, not mourn.’

Marmicus smiled; it was the first time he had done so since the princess’s passing. The feeling sparked a sense of life back into him, but it quickly disappeared.

‘You have no reason to feel guilty. Let the guilt rest with me. You’ve honoured the princess with your burial gifts; that is more than enough.’

‘I only wish my gifts were made for celebration, not for mourning. You see, your grief has touched me so very deeply, Marmicus. I’ve always had women surround me, but I’ve never won their true love or affection. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I would trade my gold for just one day of love.’ King Nelaaz had never known what it meant to really be wanted by another. He had bought hearts with gold, but women were never in love with him – they were only in love with his wealth and power. He envied Marmicus, because he had stolen hearts without having to offer anything in return, except his loyalty and honour. As he walked towards the open door, he realised that no amount of guilt or words would change a thing: the princess was dead, and nothing in this world could bring her back. Somehow the flabby king would have to live with himself, knowing full well that her headless body was buried somewhere in the desert, and not beneath the shrine made specially for her.

‘Is there anything that I can do for you before I journey back to my kingdom?’

‘There’s only one thing I want from you.’

‘Whatever it is, you will have it.’

‘I want you to attend the Counsel tomorrow. I have something important to tell them. After that, you’re free to head back to your kingdom and I’ll ask nothing more of you,’ said Marmicus, revealing nothing else about his intentions.

‘What are you planning to say to them?’ asked King Nelaaz, palpitating.

‘It will be revealed tomorrow and no sooner. For now, all you need to know is that it shall align the allegiance of men.’

‘Of all the kings of Babylon, why has the Gallant Warrior chosen to call upon you to join us, oh King of Aram? Doesn’t he know that buffoons have no place among great men?’ The Grand Priest of Ursar loathed King Nelaaz with the utmost passion; sophistication was something he desired in every friendship he forged, and King Nelaaz possessed none whatsoever. Today, the chubby king wore bright orange robes that exaggerated the roundness of his belly, making him look ridiculous.

Marmicus had summoned the whole Counsel, but for what reason was a mystery; the priests sat within the lush palace gardens making light conversation as they drank red wine and nibbled on sweet fruit; the swaying palm trees and flowering bushes easily distracted them from the looming threat of war.

‘It is at the Gallant Warrior’s request that I join you, and whether you like it or not I’ll uphold his command.’

‘By the gods, what’s the world come to? Has the day come when our kingdom relies on the advice of a sweaty clown king like you?’ heckled the Grand Priest of Ursar, enjoying the roll of laughter behind him. His words had obviously amused the scholars, who enjoyed themselves while they relaxed in the gardens. ‘They say sorcery is still a poor man’s trade; perhaps someone has cast a spell on him. I can’t think of any other reason.’

‘There’s no sorcery in our friendship, there’s only mutual respect; besides, I may be chubby and sweaty but at least I am always loyal to the Gallant Warrior’s cause.’

‘Be careful with your allegations, clown king, there is no man here who would ever question my loyalty to this kingdom. Isn’t that right?’ asked the Grand Priest of Ursar, bullying his fellows into agreement. His words were delivered with sophistication, unlike King Nelaaz, who stuttered and splattered as he spoke.

‘Your loyalty has never been doubted by any of us!’ said one Counsellor, hoping to gain favour.