Sunday, May 1, 2016

(Part II) - Zarek ben Nadin Chronicles - A Warrior's Courage - Chapter #12

     “The Chief General is here to see you sir.”

    Zarek nodded to Eparan who left and returned with Saliba.  The Chief General looked tired and his hair and beard had become streaked with more gray.  Zarek swallowed the questions that bubbled in his chest and inquired as to the health of his visitor.  Saliba brushed the question aside and got to the point.  “I spoke to Astarte about the marriage you proposed.”

    It didn’t look like the General was going to give him time to compose himself before the situation was made known. but he purposed to keep his face void of emotion.  His jaw tightened.  His eyes meet the General’s in his own honest and direct way.

    “She has agreed.  As soon as the time of mourning has passed there will be a wedding ceremony.”

    A strange feeling fluttered in his chest though he wasn’t quite experienced to know what it was.  He swallowed and gave a short nod to show that he understood.  The General offered a smile but seemed to have no more words left.  Instead, Saliba clapped his forearm.  “You’ve done the right thing Captain.  I’ll do my part to see that all goes as well and as smoothly as possible.”

    He nodded and the Chief General took his leave.  Looking around at his sparsely furnished hall that served as the main room of his occupation, he could only guess that his household was to be rapidly changed with an addition of a new wife.  The ceremony would take place soon, and summoning a servant he ordered that the rooms to be cleaned as best as they could.  That would have to suffice.

oOo

     His palms rested against the marble balcony as he stared out across the night sky.  It was hard for him to believe that he had been married for several weeks now.  He looked behind his shoulder at his young wife who lay sleeping, unaware of his absence.  Turning back to the stars he prayed inwardly that he would be a worthy husband.  He was still ill at ease with his new duties.

         The peacefulness of his life and his regular routine was interrupted as his household staff had increased to include his wife’s personal servants, and now they were scrambling to learn their new positions and become acquainted with the duties of the already placed staff.  The whole mansion underwent a thorough cleaning and many other changes.

    At times, he escaped the constant flurry of activity by going to inspect the barracks, train his men, or undergo training himself.  Natan teased him good naturedly about the changes, but for the most part, encouraged him to spend time getting to know his wife.

    He found Astarte somewhat altered since his first meeting of her.  She had lost a good portion of confidence and seemed more vulnerable than ever before.  But for all that, she proved efficient in getting the household established, though they still sorely lacked in communication.  At times, they didn’t trust to speak their true feelings, or didn’t know how to express their thoughts which left a thick coating of tension in the air.

    At times he found her wiping tears away, but he was reluctant to go to her, too unsure of how he could comfort her.  He felt inadequate to be a husband but gradually the days had blended into weeks, and weeks had in turn, faded into months.  They became accustomed to each other and the tension had eased.

    Now looking into the sky, he felt that perhaps they had made some progress.  A commotion below caught his attention and his eyes dropped to observe the scene.  Two servants ran with torches to the gates and a lone horse rider, presumably a messenger, entered the courtyard.

     He glanced back at his wife and saw that she still slept, not wanting to disturb her, he left the room and went down to receive the messenger in his personal room.  To his surprise, Natan was already waiting for him.

    “Natan, what is it?”

    His friend paled.  “Sir, I want you to know that I investigated the situation as soon as I had heard to rumor.  As it is, only I and Eparan know the situation.”

     It slowly began to dawn on him, that Natan was the lone messenger riding in.  He vaguely remembered Natan’s absence during the last couple of days.  But a rumor?  What rumor, what on earth could Natan be speaking of?”

    Then his friend spoke with a mixture of uncertainty.  “Your father is alive.”

    Zarek recoiled as if he had been bitten by a poisonous serpent.  Bitter repulsion bubbled in his chest as he glared sternly at his friend.  “You lie.”

    “Zarek, it is true.  I saw him myself.  He is living in the poorer section of the city and work on mending baskets.  He was found on the battlefield unconscious and didn’t regain his senses for several weeks.  It is said that he has not spoken to anyone since he woke in his right mind, the physician that attended him believes that he has lost his memory.”

    He stumbled and gripped the wall.  Of all the news, all the terrible new that could have befallen him, why this?  Why now?  He stared out the window before turning to his friend who had lapsed into a fearful silence.  “Are you certain no one else knows?”

    “I made certain.”

    “Then we shall use it to our advantage.  You have said that no one else has discovered him, and that he has not spoken to anyone since his injury.”

    “He is your father Zarek, what do you plan to do?”

    “I don’t know yet.  But I know, that if he is allowed to live he will revenge himself on me.”

    “Why?  You are his son.”

    He turned to glare at his friend.  “Because I turned away, I left him on the field to die.”

    Natan’s jaw dropped.  “Zarek.”

    “Don’t judge me Natan.”  He turned and looked at the scrolls rolled out on his table.  “I had to make the best choices that would ensure my survival.”  A new thought occurred to him.  “Whatever I decide on, Astarte must not know.  I will not involve her in a scandal, should it occur.  Do you understand?”

    “Yes sir.”

    “Then that will be all.”  Zarek watched his friend’s retreating form before he sat heavily in a chair.  Whatever decision he was to make, he would have to do it soon.  The hard part was not second guessing himself.  No matter what was to happen, when the play was made and the conclusion came, he would be the victor.

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