At present he wiped a hand across his smooth face, and his fingers brushed against the vertical scars that ran down the side of his face and fell to the hair that curled at his neck. He forced himself to relax as he greeted Saliba and they settled each on a couch. The conversation was polite, but lacked much enthusiasm. He began to regret coming as he grew tenser with each passing second.
Saliba steered the conversation carefully away from the purpose of Zarek’s visit, and to battle tactics used by the Babylonians. Within a few moments, and had almost relaxed completely by the time a servant announced the Chief Priest Uriti and his daughter. He stood to his feet along with Saliba, but allowed his host the privilege of greetings and introduction.
He barely managed to hide a scowl at the open and appraising look he received from Astarte, but he could not stop himself from stiffening. She was a bold creature, and he was of a mind frame that this wasn’t all at all what he considered passable in a potential mate.
As if sensing Zarek’s disagreeable opinion, Saliba steered them to the dining hall and had them seated. The servants began bringing in trays of dainty meats and breads.
Zarek tried to focus on the food set before him and to contribute to the conversation that swirled between their host and Uriti. He hoped what he said was sensible; and that his unease of being among the higher society of the King’s court, was not noticeable.
Finally, Saliba leaned against the arm of the couch and motioned for the servants to clear the dinner clutter. The Chief General poured himself and Uriti another cup of wine before turning to him. “Why don’t you take Astarte out to the gardens? You young people need to enjoy yourselves.”
Zarek felt the blood drain from his face. Across from him, Uriti seemed to be unconcerned with his host’s proposal and was drinking deeply from the wine filled goblet.
Realizing that there would not be an objection from Astarte’s father, he turned to the lady as was surprised that she seemed ill at ease and confused. Her discomfort bolstered his own courage and he stood to his feet and offered her his hand.
She laid her hand briefly in his, it felt small and warm, like a fragile bird. As soon as she had regained her footing, she pulled back so quickly and smooth that he wondered if he had even held it.
They soon found themselves walking among exotic lilies and scented flowers. The flitter of birds accompanied the silvery notes of water cascading from the fountain. Even in such serene beauty, there was not complete safety and Zarek was only too aware of the guards placed along the garden walls. Behind them was the soft scuffing of the servant girl’s sandals as she held a plumed fan over her lady.
“You were not born into higher society.”
Zarek glanced at her. Astarte’s eyes weren’t on him, but they were thoughtful. Her voice was surprisingly light and observant. The remark she had made, caused him to stiffen and he looked directly at her, she had recovered from her earlier surprise much more rapidly than he would have liked. “What makes you think so?”
“Your manners are more rugged and lack the refinement of the other young men at court.”
He scowled at her before he realized that her tone held no criticism. “And I suppose you were raised in the higher society you speak of?”
“My father has been the Chief Priest for many years. He made sure my upbringing included opportunities to affix myself in courts. And yourself? How came you to the King’s courts?”
Zarek stalled. How much was safe to tell her? Her voice was easy to listen to. It welcomed, no, invited him to tell her more about himself. Still, he couldn’t allow himself to ease his guard, his nature had been bred of caution. “There is not much to tell. I came from a fishing community on the coasts and was able to advance myself through the ranks.”
Astarte’s tilted her head to the side, and her eyes flickered to him. “That could not have been easy.” There was a pause, and then she continued. “There has been much talk of you in the King’s court. You are hailed by many for your courage and leadership abilities. It is clear that our Chief General certainly favors you.”
She continued on in her own sweet way, piling up all the facts that she knew of him to paint a clear cut picture. “And your friend, Natan, was a guest at my father’s house. He is very loyal to you, and speaks of you highly.”
Zarek looked at her cautiously. “Natan has been a very true friend.”
Astarte smiled at him. “Indeed, I would have been surprised to hear you had friends, had I not heard it from him. You are not a man to embrace friendship I think. You strike me as a very guarded, if not distrustful, person.” Astarte paused and bent to pluck a slender lily and twirled the stem around her fingers. “I wonder what has created your taciturn nature.”
“Perhaps I have nothing to say.” He watched as she continued to twirl the stem between her fingers before lifting the blossom to her nose and breathe deeply. She lifted her head at length and looked back at him.
“Your reserve pleases me. Too many individuals talk when they have nothing of interest to be said. Incessant talkativeness annoys me.” Zarek’s mind whirled, pleased her? Why on earth would she think it mattered to him if his nature pleased her or not? He didn’t know whether to be annoyed and rebuke her, or to keep his silence. Something in her tone suggested that she had decided on something.
He led the way to a seat by the fountain and scooted at the far end of the bench to avoid being too close to her. She appeared amused, but said nothing; and his eyes skimmed the treetops and over the surrounding buildings. A comfortable silence stretched out before them until she broke it suddenly.
“How did you get your scars?”
He gritted his teeth and looked at her, wishing that he had taken the other side of the bench so that his scars wouldn’t have been visible from that angle. “I was very young.” He hoped that would suffice, in truth, he wasn’t many years older now than when he had encountered the lion.
She however, was persistent. “You don’t remember then?”
He sighed and lengthened his explanation, though unwillingly. “A rogue lion was attacking the herds of nearby villages. I killed it so that our village’s livestock was not slaughtered.”
“And is that all of your tale?” Astarte asked when he did not speak again. His lips pressed together; did she think he was lying? He felt anger bubble in his chest against the foolish, impudent, young woman that sat beside him.
He was about to speak harshly when she turned and looked at him again with her wide brown eyes. “Most young men would have embellished a heroic feat such as yours, but your simple telling makes me more inclined to believe you. Tell me, are you always so reserved? So honest?”
“In the King’s courts, where political betrays happen often, don’t you think it wise to be as honest as possible? At least you will not fall from favor because of your own deceit.”
“But through the deceit of others.”
Zarek turned to evaluate Astarte, her words though soft still held a coating of unmistakable bitterness. He turned in earnest as he was struck with a sudden thought. “Is your father in danger?”
Her eyes widened and she looked around before meeting his eyes again. She seemed nervous as she plucked at the bracelets on her hand and twisted the stem of the lily more violently. Her voice was low and quiet when she spoke, “He has made enemies in the King’s court, and among the priesthood as well.”
“Is it that serious?”
“Not yet, Chief General Saliba is still a friend. As long as he is with us, we shall not fall from the King’s favor. As you know, the King is the Supreme Priest, the representatives of the gods on earth.”
Zarek shifted uncomfortably. “What has your father done to make his enemies? He seems to perform his duties as Head Priest well.”
“He performs all the rituals, all the duties exactly as he has been taught by his father, and his father before them. Yet I think,” at this, Astarte looked suddenly ill at ease, as if unsure that she should be telling him of their situation. But she swallowed and looked down at her lap. “Saliba says that you are a good man, and one that can be trusted.”
The lily lay on her lap, seemingly forgotten. “My father believes that perhaps, our religion should be refined.”
Zarek lifted one brow. “More gods? Surely we have enough.”
But Astarte was shaking her head. “No. My father believes that the gods we serve are merely attributes of a greater.”
This admission immediately roused Zarek’s curiosity. “A greater god? You refer to perhaps a one true God? I have heard such talk before.” Astarte picked up the lily from her lap and began twisting it, showers of petals fell to the ground. He continued, “Such talk is not good; our people will not accept that.”
“I know.” Astarte held the bruised stalk between pale white fingers.
“This talk is foolish, it could only mean death.”
“Death perhaps, but can you say it is foolish? I have watched you. You don’t observe the ceremonies and rituals like the others. You do not bestow chains of gold upon the shrines or leave exorbitant gifts for the gods.”
Zarek leaned back. “Perhaps I am a poor man.”
This time, it was Astarte who raised her brows. “You, who have been rewarded greatly by King Ashurdan III for your services? I know you have returned from several battles in victory. You may not be rich, but I know you are not poor.”
Zarek allowed a small smile to cross his lips. Looking up at the sky which was beginning to shadow, he stood. “It is getting late. Shall we go inside? They must be wondering where we have gotten to.”
Astarte stood and walked beside him. She stopped and briefly touched his arm just before they climbed the steps. “Captain, I did not wish to burden you with our problems. I hope you were not offended with my words.”
Zarek subconsciously shifted his weight and tipped his head, “No my lady, you did not offend me. I enjoyed our conversation.”
A smile played about Astarte’s lips, “As did I. I hope our paths will cross again.”
The rest of the evening went smoothly and at last the High Priest and his daughter took their leave. Saliba seemed pleased with the events of the evening. “I trust you and the lady had a pleasant conversation?”
He kept his face neutral, betraying no emotion. “We had a pleasant conversation, yes.”
“Is she an intelligent person?”
“She carries herself with an admirable dignity.”
“And what thinkest you? Do you believe a marriage between the two of you would be advantageous to both sides?”
“Perhaps. But I may not wish to ensnare myself in their political and religious disagreements.”
Saliba’s brows arched, “Ah, so she told you of their situation. I do not think it serious Zarek. No indeed. I think it would all be forgotten if it were not for some of the more ambitious and lesser priests of priesthood.”
“Is that so?” Zarek murmured absently, and then shook himself. “But I must thank you for the dinner invitation. The table and company were pleasant. Now, I must take my leave and not trespass on your hospitality. Thank you sir, and good-night.”
Saliba accepted with a brief nod of his head. “A pleasant evening to you as well.”
He left then, escorted by two of his personal body guards: Gabri and Malicu. Still the silence that had dropped on him, cloaked the night.
Zarek pondered the conversation he had had with Astarte, and he thought of Astarte herself. Marriage would not be so unpleasant to such a person perhaps, she seemed sensible enough and she had a somewhat pleasing manner.
Perhaps he would find time to visit Uriti tomorrow. Marriages were often performed on the spur of a moment, there were no long engagements. Zarek felt perhaps, that this would be a safe move. He could add to his security in the court, and perhaps… even his happiness.
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