The Blood-stained Belt (30 page)

That evening,
Roda came to see me. When I saw her at the door, I was so surprised
that you could have knocked me over with a feather. Usually, when
Roda was with Sharma, she would greet me with a forced smile, even
as she glared at me. When she was alone, she just swept past me in
disdain. Now, however, she simpered as she sidled up to me, giving
the impression that we had never been anything else but the best of
friends. I received her as cordially as possible while thinking
privately that I would feel more secure if I was dealing with a
spitting cobra.

Roda began by
saying, 'Jina, we don't always see eye to eye, do we?'

I replied with
feeling, 'That is so.'

Roda continued,
'But we both want the best for Sharma, don't we?'

I answered
cautiously, ‘Well, he's my best and oldest friend. And as for you
-- as his wife, of course it’s only natural that you would want the
best for him.'

I should
explain that Sharma married Roda soon after we came down from the
mountains. When Sharma told me what he was planning, I tried my
best to get him to change his mind by pointing out that he was
already married to Mecolo. Sharma replied heatedly that the
marriage was invalid because Vaxili had dissolved it and had forced
Mecolo to remarry. Anyway, said Sharma, there was no law against
having more than one wife. I could have continued the argument by
reminding Sharma that Mecolo had just given birth to their son but
seeing a familiar look in Sharma's eyes – a combination of
determination and defiant anger – I shrugged and walked away. In
fact, I wished that the matter could be dismissed with something as
simple as a shrug. For a long time, I had been apprehensive that
Sharma's relationships with his women were storing up a heap of
trouble for him – and if they caused trouble for him, then I would
also be involved. Whenever I thought about it, I had a feeling of
gloomy apprehension, like the heavy-headedness that people feel
when thunder clouds lurk ominously on the horizon for day after
day.

A year after
they married, Roda gave birth to a son and she produced another son
a year later. Now Sharma had three sons by two different women. In
the light of Sharma’s present position, this was complicated enough
without speculating on what might happen if Sharma did ascend to
the throne of Keirine one day.

Now, having
been admitted to my house, Roda was looking at me thoughtfully with
a finger laid against one of her smooth cheeks. Oh, she was
attractive, for sure, with her clear, almost translucent skin, her
large eyes, and her well-packaged frame. However, it was a long
time since women's looks and women's wiles had had much effect on
me and Roda in particular wasn’t going to win me over. Beauty or no
beauty, I didn't like Roda and I didn't trust her.

She asked
sweetly, 'Do you respect Sharma's abilities?'

'Of course I
do.'

Roda laid a
hand on my arm and said even more sweetly, 'Sharma respects you
greatly.'

'I'm pleased to
hear it.' I looked down at her hand and she winced and withdrew it
from my arm.

Roda tried
another tack, saying, 'You know, Jina, Sharma doesn't always know
what's good for him. He's so busy with important matters that he
doesn’t have time to look out for himself. You should use your
influence with him to guide him in the right direction.'

'I give advice
when I'm asked to do so.'

Roda put her
head on one side, flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and
looked at me closely. She asked, 'Do you think that Sharma is
destined for bigger things?'

For a moment I
wondered if she knew about Izebol's visit to Sharma. Then I
dismissed the thought and replied, 'Of course! We all hope for
bigger things. Wouldn’t you agree?'

Roda clucked
her tongue in annoyance and said impatiently, 'Jina! Don't be so
cold!' She leaned towards me and said in a confidential tone, 'You
know that the council has offered the crown to Sharma, don't
you?'

'Yes. It's
common knowledge.'

'Well?'

'Well,
what?'

Roda clenched
her fists and bit her lip. However, she got herself under control
and said winningly, 'Oh, Jina! Surely you know what I'm talking
about!'

'I'm not a
mind-reader. Why don't you speak plainly, Roda?'

Roda clicked
her tongue again. 'I mean that Sharma should have accepted the
offer? Don't you agree?'

'He's made his
decision. Respect it, Roda. Leave things as they are.'

'It's not
final. He can go back to the council at any time and tell them that
he's changed his mind.'

'Maybe he could
– but he won't.'

Roda put on
another appealing smile. Looking up at me from under lowered
eyelids, she asked, 'Jina, don't you see what it would mean to you
if Sharma was king?'

'Do you mean
that I would be the deputy king? Imagine that – a little throne for
me, right next to Sharma's big throne.'

'Deputy king?
Oh, Jina, you're such a joker! No, you'd be commander of the
army.'

'And you, Roda,
would be Queen of Lower Keirine. Queen Roda! What a leg-up that
would be for a simple girl from Osicedi.'

Roda gritted
her teeth, got herself under control again, and said in an even but
strained voice, 'Jina, Jina, you misunderstand! It's not about me –
not at all. It's about Sharma and what he deserves.'

'So you don't
want to be Queen of Keirine?'

Roda was still
trying to win me over even if she was smiling through gritted
teeth. She said, 'Oh, Jina, you really do misunderstand me! I'm his
wife. I just want what's best for Sharma – that's all.'

'Sharma has
made the decision that's best for him, best for all of us, and best
for Keirine.'

'But, Jina,
don't you see that –'

'That's enough,
Roda! Stop trying to manipulate me. I don't want to discuss it any
more.'

'But, Jina
–'

'Do you hear
me? No more!'

Roda dropped
her mask. Her eyes blazed and she spat at me. Then she hissed and
stalked away.

At about the
same time, a story about Sharma began to spread through Lower
Keirine. According to the story, when Sharma was a just a stripling
shepherd boy, he killed a sheep-thieving Dornite giant with one
stone from his sling. The giant was a huge man who towered torso,
head and shoulders above ordinary mortals and had shoulders as
broad as a sack of grain. Later the story was embellished with the
detail that Sharma cut off the vanquished man's head with one blow
from the giant's sword. As the story gained currency, it was
further embellished with the detail that by killing the giant
Sharma saved all of Lower Keirine from invasion by the Dornites.
Someone wrote a poem about the incident and soon the poem spawned a
popular song. When a minstrel sang the ballad at a banquet at our
headquarters, Sharma nodded approvingly and rewarded him with a pat
on the back and two gold coins. Soon the legend of Sharma and the
Dornite Giant became part of the folklore of Lower Keirine and not
much later it became part of the folklore of all of Keirine.

I suspected
that the story originated with Roda. Of course, I couldn't prove
it. She used to whistle a few bars from the tune of the song
whenever I passed by her as if she knew how much this sort of
myth-making, this misleading nonsense, annoyed me.

Not long after
my conversation with Roda, Vaxili died in a Dornite ambush. They
said that Vaxili fought like a hero and finally fell on his sword
to avoid being captured. It was probably true because, as I said,
personal courage was about the only positive quality that Vaxili
wasn't short of.

The death sent
Keirine into a ferment of activity and intrigue. With me as his
witness, Sharma told the Supreme Council of Lower Keirine that
Izebol had anointed him as Vaxili's successor. Councilors from
Upper Keirine met with councilors from Lower Keirine and I led a
delegation of our military commanders that held discussions with
commanders from Upper Keirine. Izebol, who was near to death at
Sininda, sent messengers to the councils in both Upper and Lower
Keirine to confirm that he had anointed Sharma. Unfortunately the
messenger who was on his way to the Council of Upper Keirine was
ambushed and killed before he reached his destination and Izebol
died before he could send another messenger. Mysteriously, after
Izebol died, not one of the priests who had been present on the
occasion could remember anything about an anointment. However, the
messenger from Izebol to Lower Keirine delivered his message safely
to the Supreme Council.

Within a month,
the Council of Upper Keirine nominated Vaxili's son, Aebrel, as the
new king. Of course, there was outrage in Lower Keirine. In a
desperate last measure, the council sent a message to Upper Keirine
to try to delay the crowning. The factions supporting Aebrel
imprisoned the messenger until after the coronation and then
paraded him in public, accusing him of being a liar and a
rumour--monger. After they flogged him, they sent him packing with
the warning that he would be killed if he spoke to anyone before he
reached Lower Keirine.

In Lower
Keirine, the Supreme Council and the army commanders met to discuss
the situation. There was a lot of fire-breathing and fist-thumping
but Sharma settled the matter by saying flatly that he would not
countenance any talk of invading Upper Keirine. He stated that an
invasion, whether successful or not, would drive the two parts of
Keirine further apart. Anyway, said Sharma, the intrigues and
instability in Upper Keirine would soon drive Aebrel from power. In
the meantime, all that was necessary was to make it known
throughout all parts of Keirine that he, Sharma, was the anointed
king, and that he was waiting to re-unite Keirine in a peaceful
manner.

After the
meeting, I said to Sharma privately, 'You might have to wait a lot
longer than you think.'

Sharma put a
hand on my shoulder and said confidently, 'You will see, my old
friend – the fruit is so rotten that it just needs a bit of shaking
for it to fall into our laps. Make no mistake, the kingdom will be
ours soon enough.'

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN: DESOLATION

There's one
incident that I can point to surely and say, yes, without doubt,
there was the first time that Sharma and I broke the bread of
shared guilt. That was when I sent the message that summoned Jainar
to return to Orihedrin. It was the first serious fracture in our
relationship. Set against the sweep of events, it was only a small
fracture – but it was a fracture nonetheless. It all began when we
faced Jainar’s army on the field of Origun.

When Aebrel
became king, Jainar continued to serve as commander of the army and
it was clear from the start that he was the real power in Upper
Keirine. For instance, to forestall any of the intrigues of
Vaxili's reign Jainar told Aebrel bluntly that he, Jainar, would
have exclusive control of the army. Furthermore, if there was even
a hint – the merest whiff of a hint – of an attempt to remove him
as commander then he would depose Aebrel immediately. As for Aebrel
– well, what could you say about a man who had all the flaws that
one would expect in Vaxili's son along with a few that were
uniquely his own? Aebrel was a weakling, a dissolute man who
couldn't even arrange things properly in his own life let alone
rule a kingdom. He wanted popularity, always took the easy way, and
had the moral qualities of a bag of offal together with the
diplomatic abilities of a skulking hyena. For instance, he secured
a temporary peace by ceding to the Dornites most of the territory
that they had conquered while at the same time agreeing to pay them
a huge amount in tribute every year. Aebrel seemed to think that he
could earn the respect of his people by signing away a quarter of
their territory and then raising debilitating taxes to pay tribute
to the people who stole their land. It was no surprise that he
faced popular protests all over Upper Keirine. Nor was it a
surprise that he suppressed the protests ruthlessly in a welter of
bloodshed and torture. Then, as if he didn’t have enough on his
plate, nine inauspicious months into his reign Aebrel decided that
the time was ripe to conquer Lower Keirine. For some reason he
thought that he would succeed where his father had failed.

I was with
Sharma and the rest of our commanders in our council chamber at
Orihedrin when we heard that Jainar and his army were advancing
towards our southern border. Sharma said calmly, 'I did not expect
them so soon.'

There was
silence while we digested the news. Then Abozi said thoughtfully,
'If Jainar is leading them, it's going to be a tough battle.'

It was
mid-winter and Sharma was ill with a fever. He was lying on a couch
under a pile of blankets, sweating and coughing. He raised his head
from the pillow, frowned in displeasure and asked, 'Do you fear
him?'

Abozi paused,
collected his thoughts, and replied evenly, 'I mean that Jainar is
a worthy opponent. In fact, I would say that he respects and fears
us. That's why he's leading the army himself.'

Sharma smiled
without humour and said, 'Yes. It's a pity that I can't repay the
compliment in person.' He propped himself into a sitting position,
coughed, and wiped his forehead. I could see that he was getting
irritated. Since he defeated Vaxili, Sharma had only known success
and promises of future glory. Nowadays, he became impatient with
cautious talk even when we were discussing a foe as redoubtable as
Jainar. I understood how he felt. At Sharma’s side, lately I too
had only known the heady flight of success. Since retreating to the
mountains, we had not only retrieved all the ground that we had
lost but had climbed a long way further as well – to the steps at
the base of the throne of Keirine, in fact. However, unlike Sharma,
I had a pervasive sense that success is deceitful. For instance, I
remembered all too clearly the ignominy of imprisonment and the
desperate days in the desert. Also, I remembered that squat,
square-faced man – that same Jainar who was advancing towards us --
who had planned the attack on Asjolorm with meticulous thoroughness
so that absolutely nothing was left to chance. However, recognising
that Sharma was in no mood for caution, I just said, 'The die has
been cast. We have to meet Jainar as soon as possible and
preferably before his forces set foot in Lower Keirine.'