The Blood-stained Belt (31 page)

Sharma coughed,
spat into a bowl, and said, 'Damnation! I'm in no condition for a
campaign. You will have to lead the army, Jina.' He fell back
against the pillows, coughed violently, and then waved a hand at
us, saying, ‘Well, go! Go! Go and deal with Jainar.’ As we turned
to leave the chamber, Sharma called me to his side, saying weakly,
‘Jina! A word, if you please.’ He took my hand, grinned bleakly,
and said, ‘No need to bring back his head on a lance, eh, Jina!
We’re not savages, are we?’

‘No. Nor are we
just ordinary soldiers.’

‘We’ve come a
long way, haven’t we, Jina, old friend?’ I nodded. Sharma moved his
hand to my waist, saying, ‘I see that you still have the belt.’

‘I told you
that I would always wear it.’

‘Of course you
did! And the loyal Jina always keeps his word, doesn’t he?’

‘When I give it
freely – yes, I keep it.’

Sharma coughed
so hard that is body was wracked by the spasms, squeezed my hand,
and muttered, ‘Go and deal with Jainar.’

It was an
assignment not to be taken lightly. Weighing up the situation, I
reckoned that Jainar would have the advantage of a larger force,
with solders that would probably be better armed and equipped.
However, our army would have the advantage of fitness and
experience, going right back to the time when we operated in the
wilderness. Another advantage was that we had never lost a battle
unlike the soldiers who were marching to meet us. Also, we had
Sharma at our back together with a united populace while the enemy
force was backed by the weak and indecisive Aebrel together with a
restless and dissatisfied people.

When I said
these things to my brother as we marched southwards, Abozi just
nodded non-commitedly and grunted, 'We shall see.'

I grinned to
myself. Abozi was always like this before an engagement. But when
battle commenced, he was as solid as a rock and as workmanlike as a
reaper scything his way through a field.

Abozi jerked
his head backwards and said, 'It's probably just as well that we've
got them with us.'

He was
referring to the squad of Dornite mercenaries who were marching
behind us, their feather-crested helmets slung over their backs and
their kilts swinging. Durgenu provided the mercenaries at what he
called cut-rate prices, saying that it was always an honour to do
business with his respected colleagues, Sharma and Jina.

I replied, 'I
wouldn't have thought the day would come when I would march out to
do battle together with a squad of Dornites.'

Abozi asked,
'How are you going to use them?'

'I'll put them
in the centre.'

Abozi leaned
towards me and asked confidentially, 'Can we depend on them in the
centre?'

'Depend on
them? I'll wager my life on it.'

Abozi asked
doubtfully, 'You think so?'

'I know so,
Abozi. Look at it like this -- our own people can turn and run home
when the going gets tough. But where would the Dornites run
to?'

Abozi snorted.
'They'd also run home. Dornites have homes, too.'

'Maybe. But
every man, woman, and child along the way would harass them to
settle old scores. And home for them is a lot further than
Orihedrin.'

Abozi said
gruffly, 'Well, we'll see.'

On the field of
Origun, we defeated Jainar's army. It was a close-run affair, like
two evenly matched wrestlers who strive against each other while
clasped together, weight against weight, heave against heave,
searching for the first sign of weakness. Finally the break came as
it always did. After nearly two hours, the Dornites managed to
drive a wedge through the centre of Jainar's forces. On our right
flank, Abozi saw the opportunity and drove our men inward on to the
enemy forces. They fell back against each other and our forces
drove into them from three directions. Jainar’s army swayed,
crumpled, and then began to scatter.

Abozi led a
detachment in close pursuit, pressing forward at speed until Jainar
and some of his men regrouped on the hillside. Our forces halted
and looked at the opposing force warily. There was an impasse.
Suddenly someone broke ranks and ran forward up the hill. It was
Abozi. He stopped a few paces from their front rank and shouted
something. Jainar stepped forward and shouted something in return.
Then the two men exchanged a volley of words. Later, I was told
what was said during the encounter. Abozi shouted, ‘Jainar, the
battle isn’t over yet. Come out and fight man to man.’

Jainar asked
calmly, 'Is that you, Abozi brother of Jina?'

'It is.'

Jainar said, 'I
remember you well from the old days. I have no quarrel with you. If
you want to fight hand to hand, challenge one of the young men.
Fight against a young man and you might get reward and honour.'

Abozi called,
'I’m challenging you, Jainar, not some insignificant member of your
army. Come out and face me if you’re not a coward.'

Jainar replied,
'A coward? I’ve defeated more men than you have years in your life!
You know that or you wouldn’t be challenging me.’

‘Then come out
and face me if you’re not a coward.’

Jainar
responded patiently, ‘I don't want to strike you down. I have no
quarrel with you and I will not fight against you.'

I could see
what was happening even if I couldn't hear what was being said. I
yelled at Abozi, ordering him to stand back but he was too far away
to hear me. He would have ignored me, anyway, in his blood-mad,
glory-seeking mood. I don't know what got into him. Perhaps he felt
that he had walked in my shadow for too long and that now was the
time to make a name for himself. Perhaps he was infected by
battle-craziness. I really don't know.

Abozi's reply
to Jainar was to rise to his full height, swing his shield into
place, shouting our war cry – ‘Shar-ma! Shar-ma!’ -- and rush
forward. Jainar retreated a few paces and crouched, covering
himself with his shield. As Abozi reached him, Jainar thrust the
butt of his spear forward at a steep angle. To be fair to Jainar,
he put the butt-end forward to minimise injury. But he didn’t have
to do it. He could just have withdrawn to the protection of the
ranks. The spear passed under Abozi's shield and hit him in the
stomach. Abozi was moving with such speed that the butt passed
right through him. He doubled over, shuddered, and died on the
spot.

When I saw my
brother fall, I wanted to rush forward and throw myself onto
Jainar. Of course I couldn’t, because he was too far away. In any
case, even while I was filled with horror and outrage I knew better
than to indulge in personal vendettas on the battlefield. A
commander's work is to defeat the enemy forces, clear them from the
field, and then pursue them to wreak the maximum amount of
destruction. As I learned from Zaliek, personal feelings such as
vanity and desire for revenge just get in the way of the task.

Suppressing my
seething emotions, I assembled our men for an orderly pursuit. At
the second battle of Gandonda, I saw what could happen when a
pursuing force rushes forward in disorganised waves like a pack of
yelping hounds. The enemy can rally at any time and within a few
minutes victory can be compromised. I wasn’t going to allow that to
happen here.

Late in the
afternoon, Jainar rallied some of his men on another hilltop. By
the looks of them, they were the core of what remained of Vaxili’s
royal guard -- men of Vaxili's tribe, and Jainar's, too. They would
be a tough proposition.

Although we
were victorious, we were in no position to press forward. We were
far from the rest of our army and we didn't have the resources to
put a cordon around Jainar's force. Besides, if we did try to do
so, the chances were that Jainar would strike at one of our weakest
points under cover of darkness.

I was
considering the position when Jainar stepped forward. He stood
squarely with legs apart and shouted, 'Jina, for how long will we
oppose each other? Isn't there enough bitterness already?’

I replied,
‘More than enough, I would say.’

Jainar
continued, ‘Aren’t we all men of the same nation?’

‘We are. What
of it?’

Jainar put down
his shield and sword and stood there in just his tunic and
breastplate. He raised his arms, palms forward, and shouted in
reply, ‘Order your men to stop pursuing their brothers and we can
all depart in peace.'

I replied,
'Jainar, you speak of brothers and yet you killed my only
brother.'

Jainar
answered, 'I regret it. But he challenged me and I couldn't avoid
him. He died honourably as a soldier should. Be grateful for
that.'

Now that I was
so close to Jainar, rage pounded through my veins. I was on the
verge of rushing forward to attack him myself. In fact, I had
already half-drawn my sword when sanity prevailed. I got a grip on
myself, pushed my sword back, and shouted, 'Death is a soldier's
closest companion. We have not lived honourably until we have died
honourably.' It was a politic answer that concealed what I really
felt. Privately, I resolved that one day Jainar would pay for my
brother's death. However, in the meantime I had to attend to my
duties.

Jainar
acknowledged my words with a wave of his hand. He said something to
his men and they lowered their shields. They stood at ease,
regarding us warily while my men did the same. I shouted, ‘If you
agree, then we will conclude the engagement.’

Jainar shouted
back, ‘That’s as it should be. Brothers shouldn’t be at each
other’s throats.’

I said, ‘Then
brothers shouldn’t attack brothers.’ Jainar made a resigned
movement with his hand but said nothing. I took a few steps forward
and shouted, ‘I have a message for Aebrel.’

Jainar replied,
‘I can carry a message as well as anyone.’

‘Tell your
master that there is only one anointed king in Keirine and that
king is Sharma. Tell Aebrel that he only continues to rule Upper
Keirine because Sharma does not want to cause further suffering to
the nation. Tell Aebrel that his days are numbered. If he
abdicates, Sharma will treat him with consideration. If not, he
will lose everything.’

Jainar replied,
‘I will deliver your message. But remember that Aebrel rules
because of the strength of his general and his army not because of
Sharma's kindness. Remember that, when you are tempted to think
otherwise.’ Jainar raised his hand in salute and stepped backwards
into the ranks.

I ordered the
trumpeter to blow the signal for a halt to the pursuit, posted a
rearguard, and led the main force back down the hill. When we
reached the bottom, I stopped and looked back. Jainar and his men
had disappeared.

We won an
overwhelming victory, losing less than fifty men as against nearly
four hundred on the other side. I should have celebrated our
achievement except that Abozi was amongst the dead. When I returned
from the battlefield with the body of my brother draped over the
back of a donkey, I passed through one of the heaviest periods of
my life. To make it even heavier, I could not show my grief
because, as commander, I couldn't allow anything to spoil the
celebratory atmosphere amongst the men. They would interpret
sadness, bitterness, or regret on my part as a reproach to them.
But inside, I was grieving and lacerated. I had not felt like this
since I lost Dana. The world was desolate and I hated Jainar for
making it so.

Abozi was only
twenty-two years of age when he died. Marching towards our home in
Osicedi to bury him, I kept thinking of how quickly time had passed
since we were children. Only a few years ago, Abozi was a schoolboy
walking the fields with me to learn how to be a shepherd. Then he
was a lanky and fresh-faced youth, roaming the hills with the sheep
as I had done before him. Next, in quick succession, he became a
soldier, my companion in Vaxili's prison cell, our comrade in the
desert, and a respected commander in Orihedrin. Saddest of all, I
remembered that our mother had a special love for Abozi. She called
him the last-born lamb, the unexpected gift that arrived when she
thought that she would not carry a child again. She would say to my
father and me, 'He is Zabrazal's special gift to all of us.'

Now Abozi was
dead, his corpse lashed over the back of a donkey. As we marched
northwards, my heart shriveled when I thought about how my mother
would react to the news. My father died only a few years ago and
now she would also have to bear the death of her youngest son, her
beloved late-born lamb. Especially, I remembered how, after my
father's death, she said to Abozi and me, 'I don't know if I can
bear to see one of you die before me.'

I stayed in
Osicedi for two days to comfort my mother and to make arrangements
for Abozi to be buried in the tomb with our father. Then I led the
army back to Orihedrin. My mother begged me to stay for the funeral
but I knew my duty. Osicedi wasn’t a garrison town. If the army
stayed too long, there would be trouble – fighting, drunkenness,
whoring, and all the rest of the undisciplined behaviour that
occurs when soldiers are idle. The troops had to leave as soon as
possible and it was my duty as commander to lead them. Leaving my
mother behind with the corpse of my brother, I led the troops out
of Osicedi, heading down the red-dirt road to Orihedrin. The dust
that filled my eyes and nostrils matched the aridity in my
soul.

CHAPTER
NINETEEN: ASCENT TO POWER

After the
battle, matters in Upper Keirine deteriorated quickly. As if to
compensate for losing the battle, or possibly to forestall any
impression that he had been weakened, Jainar tightened his grip so
much that Aebrel was hardly more than a hostage on his own throne.
Jainar took all the decisions and made all the moves while Aebrel
wallowed in wine, consoled himself with his ever-growing collection
of women and performed a few ceremonial functions.