The Lost Choice (2 page)

The boy smiled at his father as he took another bite.
No one looks at his beard anyway,
he thought.
They only see his eyes!
It was true. Alem's eyes were bright blue. As rare as diamonds, Kasi had heard the women say. He had seen men avert their own eyes when they met his father.
Blue eyes,
Kasi mused.
Blue eyes like azure. And I have them too.

Suddenly Kasi frowned.“Is this rabbit, Father?” He held up a bone from which he had eaten the meat.

“Rabbit . . . hare.Yes.” Alem's eyebrows lifted.

“From where did we receive such a blessing?”

“Well, let me see.” Alem rubbed his finger alongside his nose. “Could it have been a gift from another family?”

“No, Father. There has not been enough to eat,much less to share!”

“Yes, I see what you mean,” Alem said smiling. “No, it would not have been a gift. And we know what the dogs do if they catch one—no sharing there. Do you suppose perhaps Biba ran this one down?”

Kasi laughed. He was being teased and he knew it.“No, Father! I don't believe our grouchy old camel caught a rabbit! But I have never seen you run fast enough to catch one either!”

“That is very true,my son. I am not as fleet as the hare.” Alem quickly put his arm around Kasi and lay straight back, pulling the boy with him until both were side by side, flat on their backs, looking upward. He pointed with the bone in his hand, directing his son's gaze to a palm branch above them. “No, I am not as fast as a rabbit, but I do enjoy its taste. And that is why I take care of my falcon!”

“Skei!” Kasi exclaimed. The beautiful bird sat above them, cocking her head curiously. Turning, he asked,“Where did you find her? I was about to tell you she was lost and that it was all my fault.”

“She found me, Kasi, with the rabbit, only moments after you let her go.” Alem narrowed his eyes a bit and smiled. “And while yet another conversation remains about you and Skei, I must admit pride that you were willing to accept responsibility for the disobedient choice you made. That is evidence of a growing character.”

Kasi rolled over and moved into a sitting position as Alem stood and began wrapping the folds of his burnoose around his left arm.“I want to do what is right,” the boy said,“but sometimes I want to do what I . . .” He paused and furrowed his brow. Then, looking up at his father again, he stumbled ahead.“Well, I suppose sometimes I want to do what I want to do. Is that evidence of bad character?”

Alem smiled at Kasi and extended his arm toward the falcon. “Your character is your essence; it is what you are. Your character is determined by the choices you make when no one will ever know what you did . . . or didn't.” Skei dropped from the palm branch and landed heavily on Alem's arm. “You must build your character daily, my son. And immediately. All blossoms of tomorrow, and all weeds as well, are in the seeds you are sowing today. Your influence, your wealth, and ultimately your legacy will be decided by this one thing. For ultimately, no person can ever rise beyond the restrictions of his own character.”

For a moment, the man and boy simply looked at each other. Blue eyes burning blue eyes into memory by firelight. Kasi spoke first.“I understand,” he said.

“I knew you would,” his father responded softly. Then, slipping into the shadows, he said,“Quickly now. Ready the camel.”

THE DARKNESS WAS VAST AND COMPLETE; THE MOON-less night a flowing tide of ebony muslin drawn like a tent over the tiny caravan. Eight camels plodded in a loosely defined single file gradually gaining ground in the general direction of Polaris, the brightest of the stars shredding this blackest of nights. The soft voices of the Bedouins drifted across the sand and emptied into nothingness.

Biba was the third camel. She was draped in red silk and carried two immense baskets—one on either side of her hump—heavily loaded with the spices cardamom, cassia, black cumin, as well as more red silk. Seated on the center of Biba's hump, hands on the reins, a foot resting on each basket,was Alem with Skei the falcon, asleep, perched on his shoulder. Kasi snuggled in close, sitting practically in Alem's lap, his father's arms draped around his shoulders. They swayed in an awkward unison to the camel's gait.

In the starlight, Kasi could see the other men and their desert steeds in front of and behind them. They were headed to Colonia Aelia, the Emperor Hadrian's new city. There they would spend a few days in the spice market. After trading for food and the essentials of life, the Bedouins would make their way back across the Desert of Shur to rejoin their people near Marah. Alem and Kasi would not make the return trip.

“Why must we leave these people, Father?” Kasi asked quietly.

“For us,my son, there is only safety in movement,” came the answer. “And then, only a measurement are aware that there are those who seek us for want of the possession.” Alem absently touched the rolled-up object that was tied to his chest. “And these are simply violent times.”

“If someone tried to hurt us,” Kasi said shaking his fist,“I would think of many ways to hurt them in return!”

Alem laughed gently.“Those thoughts would take too much of your precious time, I fear. Time spent getting even would be better used gaining an understanding of yourself. Revenge is like biting a camel because the camel has bitten you. When you seek to get even, you are apt to do strange things!”

“Why do you say that I must understand myself?” Kasi puzzled.“I am quite certain that I already understand myself.” “Really?” Alem said as he leaned out and around his son's shoulder to see his face. Skei flapped her wings once, disturbed by the sudden movement.“Really, you do?”

“I think so,” Kasi said, now not so certain.

“Then can you explain to me,my son, why you released Skei this morning when you clearly knew this was against my wishes? You knew it was wrong, yet you proceeded. Was it your desire to do evil?”

“No, Father,” the boy stammered.“I was—”

“Were you intending to lose the bird?”

“No.”

“Did you remember your father and his rule as you set Skei to flight?”

“Of course not!” Kasi declared. “I would never have done such a thing had I remembered your rule!”

Alem was quiet.

“That is not true,” Kasi finally said. “I did remember your rule. I remembered your rule, and I did it anyway. And I don't know why. I am now quite certain that I do not understand myself.”

Alem chuckled and gave the boy a hug. “You are only eleven summers,my son. There are grown men who struggle mightily with this concept. The result you are seeking is not mere understanding, but control. It is not enough to recognize what is right and true. One must control the impulse to do what is wrong and easy. Nothing will withstand a person who can conquer himself.”

For a long time they rode without talking. Kasi thought about all his father had told him. He listened to Biba. Her feet made a squishing noise as they stepped through the sand and her breathing contained a small whistle. He could smell the saltiness of his father mingled with the mellow aroma of the cardamom and the sweetness of the cassia. And occasionally, he caught a whiff of Biba.

Alem moved his head forward and whispered in his son's ear.“Kasi?”

“Yes, Father,” came the soft reply.

“Where are your thoughts leading you?”

“To your possession, Father. Will you tell me what it is?” Alem was silent at first. When he spoke, he did so carefully in a voice just above a whisper.“It is an object of fear and an object of promise. An object of ridicule and of power. The possession displays abject poverty and incredible wealth. It contains death and birth and blindness and sight. And one day, it will be yours to protect.”

Kasi shifted his weight as he took all this in. “If you won't tell me what it is, then what does it do?”

“I told you exactly what it is. As for what it does? It does nothing. It does, however, represent the power to do everything. It is believed and doubted, contemplated and ignored, pursued and avoided. Men will kill for it . . . and I would die to protect it.”

“Where did you get it?”

“From my father many years ago.” Alem cleared his throat. “He was entrusted with the possession and kept it hidden for many years. It was the only thing he left me, and it will be the only thing I am able to leave you, Kasi. It is a gift from a father to his son.”

Kasi was more confused than ever.“Father,” he questioned, “why do we have to keep the object hidden? And if we can't use it, what good is it anyway?”

“Pay close attention, my son,” Alem began. “There will come a time when the possession will be revealed to all. On that day, everything will change. Kingdoms will rise and fall . . . in a day! You must know that there are men who would die to make this happen and men who would die to prevent it from happening.

“The possession itself—the object—will never, alone, do anything. Even as you gain full knowledge of its history and destiny, it will do nothing but remain tied to your body. Kasi . . . turn around. I want to look at you.” Alem picked up his son by the arms and helped him turn completely around—he was riding backward, but facing his father.

“My son,” Alem said as he placed his hands on Kasi's shoulders and stared intently into his eyes, “an article of wood or metal or glass can achieve nothing. Set on a mantel in a fine home or on a mountaintop for all to see, it will never, by itself, plow a field or tend a sick person or cook a meal. An object can inspire, arouse, prove, encourage, justify, and confirm. But it can never produce.

“It is only by your hand that the mind's choices bear fruit. Intentions are like physical beauty—they mean nothing. At some point, a person must actually
do
something. One's beliefs must become works. By your hand, you establish evidence for others in the truth of what you believe.”

Suddenly Biba violently threw her head to the side and stumbled to her knees. A scream from the end of the caravan pierced the calm night as the sand behind and in front of the Bedouins erupted with men brandishing swords, shooting bows, and shrieking at the top of their voices!

Biba slowly rolled over on her side, an arrow through her neck, as Alem released Skei and swept Kasi from the dying camel.“Slavers, Kasi!” he yelled.“Roman slavers! Dig a hole under Biba! Quickly!”

As chaos raged around them in the darkness, Alem and Kasi hurriedly dug a trench in the sand alongside and under the camel. Men were running, swords were flashing and the boy heard the whistling rush of arrows being loosed as he looked up to see a man surrender. His father pushed him into the hole and said, “Dig in! Hide!”

On his knees behind the dead camel and the scattered baskets,Alem drew a sword from the folds of his burnoose. With a rapid jerk, he cut the bundle from his chest, sliced the cord binding it, and rolled the possession fully exposed onto the ground. It came to rest mere inches from Kasi's face. Despite the bedlam raging around him, the boy's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped. Then his father took the sword and hacked it to pieces.

In three swift strokes, Alem severed the object into four parts. Horrified, Kasi yelled,“You destroyed it!” and started to scramble out of his hole.

Alem grabbed him and shoved him roughly back in. “Stay down, Kasi! The possession can never be destroyed! Everything I have told you will come to pass, but the time is not now. These men must not find it here! Take this,” he said and placed a piece of the possession in Kasi's hand. “I love you,my son!”And with those words,Alem grabbed the dead camel and with a desperate effort pulled the animal completely over his boy.

Uncomfortable and terror-stricken, Kasi lay still, barely able to breathe, listening to the fighting just above him. And just as suddenly as it had begun—it was over—quiet except for the barked commands of someone whose language he did not understand. He heard them moving off into the distance. Then silence. The entire attack had taken less than three minutes.

For a long time Kasi lay there. He was unsure of what to do. Finally, dizzy from the heat and lack of oxygen, the boy dug himself out. It wasn't easy, but by displacing sand and inching his arm out first, he was able to escape the hiding place that had saved him from . . . what?

Kasi stood up and looked around. The sun was rising in the eastern sky. He saw two more camels dead. And four human bodies, stripped of their robes, lying facedown in the sand. Fearfully, the boy crept over to the dead men. Glancing around, he knelt beside them. Three of the men, he saw, had long, full beards, but the fourth . . . he crawled over and turned the head.

It was not Alem.

Kasi stood up. So his father was not dead. Had he escaped? Was he captured? He heard a movement behind him and, startled, wheeled around to face it. Skei, he saw, had returned, landing on the back of her old friend Biba. Kasi looked at his fist, still tightly closed, and slowly opened it. A piece of the possession. A gift from a father to a son.

Near the dead camel, he saw that the other pieces of the possession were gone, but he found a shredded remnant of the burgundy linen and rolled it carefully around the piece that remained, tying it with black cord. Using a short strap of leather from Biba's halter, he wound it around his left shoulder and neck, then secured it to his chest where his eyes could watch it and his arms protect it. Always and all the time.

Kasi walked over to the falcon and rummaged around for a scrap of leather. Laying it across his shoulder, he allowed Skei to settle there for a moment. Examining the sunrise, the boy placed the warm rays to his right and strode purposefully to the north.

ONE

DENVER, COLORADO—PRESENT DAY

IT WAS SATURDAY MORNING, SUNNY AND WARM, a perfect June day in Colorado. As Mark Chandler walked into the den, he yawned and looked at his wife who was sitting in the recliner.