(Part II) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - A Warrior's Courage - Chapter #9

     The warriors of the mountain knew the cost of revolt, and they knew what would happen if they lost.  Their own determination made it difficult for Zarek to push through their lines of defense.  The fog made visibility challenging, but he kept screaming orders.  The ground was wet from the rain the night before and the men kept sliding in the mud.

    He grappled with one man before taking the knife from his belt and stabbing him in the side.  He twisted and pulled his knife free, blood streamed in a glittering, red arc.  The man fell and he leaped over him to engage in combat with another enemy.

    For hours it seemed as if neither side could dominate the battle.  The men from the mountains were fierce warriors, but their numbers were few and coupled with their desperation and fear, Zarek was at last able to turn the tide of the battle in his favor.  Many of the tribal men were killed, while the few remaining were forced to retreat.

     Zarek and his men marched to the village, and were received by the village elders.  He listened as they swore to him that they had no part in the attack, that the revolt had been promoted by a small band of rogue warriors who were not content to submit to Assyria any longer.  He listened to their pledged of renewed obedience.

    When he stepped out of the hut, it took only one glance at the sullen faces of village men to see the underlying hostility.  He turned to Eparan who stood behind him, “Search the village.”

    With the order given, soldiers fanned out in the village and began entering huts, roughly twenty enemy warriors were found, several were wounded.  He turned to the village elders and found their faces harden and disapproving.  He gestured to the enemy warriors, “You claim that you are the obedient servants of King Ashurdan III, and yet you harbor his enemies?”

    His men unsheathed their swords and drew their bows.  The elders paled, but some flushed with anger and one of them was bold enough to say, “The yoke of the Assyrians has been unreasonably heavy.  Your people have made us slaves.”

    Zarek did not like being lied to, and his disgust for them made his lips curl in a sneer, “And should the conquered be anything different?”

    The head village elder stepped forward.  His greying hair hung down his shoulders as he shuffled.  “We are a people trying to survive.”

    Zarek felt his jaw tense, “Only the strong survive.  It is foolish to resist us.  I have been sent to crush your stubbornness, and I will carry out my orders.”  He turned to a waiting Eparan.  “Have the men fire the village and the crops, slay the animals.”

    “And what of the enemy warriors we found?  Some of them are wounded.”

    “Kill them.”  He looked levelly at the village elders.  “Those remaining will be brought back to Nineveh with us.”

     Eparan stepped back in surprise.  “All of them?”

    “Men, women, and children.”

    Within hours, the village was burned and the dead bodies of the enemy warriors that were found hiding, littered the ground.  Bedraggled captives straggled along in a sorrowing procession.  Zarek rode at the head of their procession.

    After several days of travel, they arrived at Nineveh.  Quite a display was made of the loot and their prisoners.  The Chief General was especially pleased and King Ashurdan III proclaimed a feast.  Zarek was given amulets of precious stones and was invited to be the King’s special guest.

    After the initial introduction, the King motioned for Zarek to join him in the higher courts.  The heavy perfume made him dizzy and he climbed the steps.  Different and colorful clothing of the court swirled before him as he moved to sit beside Chief General Saliba.

    The feast lasted several days and only the best of wines were drank by the upper court.  Zarek hardly sipped his, but he was attentive so that he was soon a great favorite of the court.  To conclude the days of feasting, King Ashurdan III proclaimed that fifty of the highly ranked tribe people, were be sacrificed to Ashur, god of war.  The ceremony was to be performed by the chief priest, Uriti.

    Sitting in the courts of the King’s pavilion, Zarek prepared to watch the ceremony.  The selected sacrifices had been herded off to one side of the courtyard.  Steps took them to an ornate alter.  He had mixed feelings, watching the sacrificing rituals reminded him of his own mother’s untimely death.  He wondered what she would think if she could have seen him now.  Perhaps she would be ashamed.

    Chief General Saliba nudged him, stirring him from his thoughts, and he turned to where the man gestured.  “The chief priest, Uriti is making an appearance.”  He glanced up and saw that it was true; however, as the ceremony started Zarek let his mind and eyes wander.

    There was a sudden, general stirring and some excited murmurs from the stand he was sitting.  His eyes searched for the disturbance and he saw a small procession enter.  Several female servants escorted a young lady of stunning beauty.  Zarek was immediately struck by her, for he saw that she wasn’t an ordinary noble lady.

    His curiosity was aroused as King Ashurdan greeted her and gestured for her to be seated.  The young woman straightened from her bow, and seemed to glide rather than walk to an empty seat, followed by her attendants.  She had thick, brown hair coiled on top of her head.  Her face was especially comely. 

      Certainly, she wasn’t the perfect specimen of beauty, her nose was too straight and her cheekbones too high.  Her eyes were large and open, not coy or fluttery like many of the other women of her station.  Her mouth was firm and decisive.  Still, she seemed to possess confident capabilities that many other court women lacked.

    He felt General Saliba nudge him again and nod toward the new comer.  “That young woman there, is called Astarte, she is the daughter of Uriti.  She arrived shortly after you left on your conquest and has been the talk of the court since.”

    “I had not known Uriti had a daughter.”

    “She is his only child.  Apparently, she has been staying with relatives but has come to join him here.”

    Zarek nodded but wasn’t inclined to ask for any more information.  With the gossip of the court, it wouldn’t be long before he knew her well enough to form his own opinions.  He watched her carefully, she seemed to be a pleasant person but her attentiveness to the ceremony was poor.  She seemed to distract herself with talking to her attendance, and then she glanced directly at him.

    His eyes darted smoothly away and he turned his head as if something had suddenly seized his attention.  He would not look her way again, or think of her for that matter.  He set his jaw and resolved to distract himself with the ceremony.  But the bloody scene below guilted him, this was his doing, and his conscience pricked him uneasily.  So disconcerting the thought was, that he welcomed Saliba’s interruption, it was plain that the Chief General was no more interested in watching the rituals than he was.  The man leaned toward him and whispered in his ear, “What do you think of her?”

    For a moment, he was at a loss of what Saliba could be speaking of.  Then he flushed with remembrance and strove to make his voice even, if not a bit annoyed.  “She is not like the other court women.”

    “She has her own beauty.”  When that statement didn’t rouse a response from him, Saliba drove his point.  “It would be an advantageous marriage.”

   Zarek stared hard at the man’s unwelcomed interference.  The statement had surprised him but he had to acknowledge the truth of it, despite a denial resting on his lips.  Once again he kept his silence, but he glanced back at the young woman who was continuing her soft conversation with her escort.

    The thought of marriage was not especially pleasant to him.  He didn’t know the first thing about being a husband or having a family.  He certainly had no faith in himself that he would be a good husband though he harbored feelings that he would be a sight better than his father.

   His father’s betrayal of his mother brought a bitter frown to his lips causing Saliba to mistake in a conclusion.  “Perhaps, she does not appeal to you.  But I would firmly suggest looking seriously into secure yourself in the court by marrying into one of the court families.  You would be better in situation and resources.”

    “I have not the time for a wife, Saliba.”

    “Or perhaps not the inclination, but you would do well to hearken unto me.  If you married her, not only would you secure the favor of the court, but also of the priesthood, which are two very fortunate alliances.  Will you not consider?”

    “You are proposing a marriage of advantage?”

    “Indeed, is there a better way to secure a side by the King?”

    Zarek was grudging, and he wished to end the conversation.  “I will think on what you have said.”

    “Splendid.  In the meantime, I think I will hold a feast tomorrow afternoon.  I shall invite Uriti and his daughter; it will give a chance to discuss some things with him.  Why don’t you come as well?”

    “I think I would better employ myself in training.”

    “Nonsense.  I think you would spend your time profitably of you managed to secure your position.  But I shan’t force you, though the invitation stands if you would change your mind.  I ask you consider it.”

    He nodded his head in compliance.  For the rest of the ceremony his thoughts and occasionally his eyes would wander to the object he might use to secure himself a position of favor in the King’s court.  The thought was not a pleasing one.

    Having spent the majority of his childhood alone, he did not see a wife being an essential part of his life’s happiness.  It disturbed him, but he knew Saliba was right.  He frowned.  He was on good enough terms with Uriti, several instance he recalled the priest searching for scrolls that would help him with his studies.  He had been appreciative, because he would have never found the correct scrolls on his own.

    He couldn’t quite come into agreement with the idea and resolved to push all thoughts of it aside, at least for present.  Perhaps it would be better to decline Saliba’s invitation and see to other things that had suffered from his neglect while he had been away.  Perhaps he and Natan could train together.

    It seemed a long time before the ritual was at a conclusion and King Ashurdan III returned to his personal quarters. Dismissed, Zarek wandered the halls for a short while before directing his steps to the dungeon.  He wished to know how many of the mountain villagers remained.

    There was talk of a slave auction and such money that was made would be divided between Zarek and his men.  He would appreciate the extra funds.  He found roughly, seventy-five remaining villagers.  Most of them were women and children, neither of which would bring a high price.

    As he walked through the dungeon he caught sight of four men chained to walls in the process of being tortured, they looked familiar and upon further inspection he found them to be the village elders of the mountain tribe.  The men had undergone quite a beating and their eyes had been gouged out, he frowned and went his way as the torture continued.

    He left the palace and returned his own personal quarters.  The sun had yet to set, and he found himself hungry.  He ordered a servant to bring some cheese, dates, and bread.  His order was obeyed and his hunger was soon abated.

     Having eaten his fill, he stared at the empty table that stretched before him and the usual gloom and loneliness settled over him.  Perhaps, having someone to greet him when he returned from battle was not as unfavorable as he first thought.  He pressed his lips together in sudden determination and he rose from his seat, deciding to turn in early.  There would be much to do tomorrow if he was to attend the feast Saliba had promised to hold.