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"He mourned the loss of the innocence and beauty that used to be his Homeland"
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THE JOINING
He stood at the top of the hill, the gusting wind pulled gently at his robe. As he surveyed the valley that stretch out before him, a tear slowly ran down his cheek.
He mourned the loss of the innocence and beauty that used to be his Homeland, as he looked down on the scarred and almost barren landscape, almost blinded by the smoke that rose from below.
He longed for the return of those carefree days of his youth, when he would frolic in the lushness of the green pastures, as he tended his fathers flock. He remembered with fondness his first love, his first kiss among the spring flowers that would bloom in a myriad of colours, bringing joy to every young heart and fond memories to the minds of the Ancient Ones.
The games he would play with his friends. Games of war, and wrestling in the new mown hay. Yes, they were warriors then, but now the warriors were all gone. Ground under the heel of the Tyrant, the rebellion crushed.The farms and lodges burned and destroyed in retribution, and the people? Death had taken many, others were scattered or sold into slavery. And what of his gentle Almedra, what had become of his betrothed? Somewhere, at the very bottom of the valley, her ashes shifted in the gentle breezes. No longer would her joyful cry greet him as he returned from his daily task. Never again would she gently caress his face, touch her lips to his. He would never hold her, and feel the joy of love within her arms. Only in his dreams and memories could he cherish those moments of passion or see her face.
He fell to the ground, sobbing his sorrow, crying out to the heavens in his anguish and despair
He tried to remember the day that the army of the tyrant had come to his valley, was it yesterday, the day before? He tried to recall but time was lost to him. At their head, the Bishop rode upon his white stallion. In one hand he held a tall cross, tied to his waist a sword sheathed in a jewel-encrusted scabbard, and upon his head he wore a Mitre of gold that glistened in the sun.
At his heel marched a thousand men, dressed in their black robes, with blackened shields, each adorned with a scarlet cross. At their sides the curved scimitars of death swung freely with each step they took.
The bishop had rode into the centre of the village, and in a loud voice had called upon all of the people to assemble there.
The villagers had come, marvelling at the sight of this messenger, in all his finery. They beheld his presence with awe and wonder, asking among themselves
” Who is this mighty warrior, who comes in the name of our Lord”
“ What brings him here, to our humble village?”
They stood patiently while they waited upon his bidding. The hot summer sun burned down upon their covered heads.
The bishop climbed onto the Speaking Platform that stood in the centre of the village square, turning he addressed them.
“ My Master, the Sultan, in the name of the most Holy, sends you greeting. He has asked that you give unto him one third of all your grain for his table, and six of your fairest maidens for his Harem. The grain is to be brought forth by first light tomorrow, the Maidens, I will choose immediately, lest any among you cause them to be no longer suited to my masters bed.”
He stepped down from the platform, beckoning to six of his soldiers to follow him. He moved toward the crowded villagers, choosing first one, then another of the village maidens. He came to Almedra and looked upon her beauty saying.
“Here is a fitting beauty for my master, She will bear him many sons.”
A cry rose up from the assembly, fore she was favoured among all the village maids. A voice called out, “ She is betrothed to my eldest son, the future leader of our people.”
The Bishop turned, “Is she yet Wed?”
Joseph the elder stepped forward, “She is to be wed in a week, it is all arranged”
"Then if she not be wed, then she is now the property of the Sultan” he turned to his escort, “Take her!”
As he turned to leave, Joseph came forward again, laying his hand upon the Bishops shoulder saying, “Please Master, I beg of you, do not take her from us, she is the fairest of us all, Her betrothed is away tending the flocks, what will we say to him?”
The Bishop waved to one of his escort. The soldier stepped forward, unsheathing his scimitar, plunging it into the belly of Joseph, spilling his blood into the dust.
As Joseph lay dying, the bishop turned to the crowd, “ You will tell his son this. Any who disobey my Master shall reap the same reward as his father. Death is the reward for rebellion, life is the reward for obedience.”
A scream of anger rose from the throats of the crowd as they surged forward, Joseph was well loved by his people. Many hands were laid upon the Bishop, many knives flashed in the sun. The Soldiers, in fear of their lives, and the life of the Bishop, charged with weapons drawn, slashing left and right as they came, caring little for those struck down. Almedra, rushing forward to Joseph’s aid was struck in the breast by a soldier’s sword, cutting her down. As she fell, she called out the name of her betrothed, “Hakim!” She fell to the ground and with her last ounce of strength crawled to Joseph’s side.
The red sun set upon the bloody scene. A hundred lay dead or dying in the dust, a hundred more sat weeping in chains. From the surrounding hills came the sound of weeping and wailing as those who had fled mourned the loss of their beloved.
As the sun rose next morning, the soldiers set fire to all the dwellings, forcing the prisoners to throw the bodies of their beloved into the flames, even those that still lived.
When they had finished, they lay the body of their master the Bishop, upon a bier, and carrying him at the front of the column, marched back the way they had come.
Hakim had returned as the sun reached its zenith. He had seen the smoke, and leaving the flock had run toward the village fearing a calamity. When he beheld the scene before him, panic gripped his heart, squeezing it as if a mighty fist had taken hold of him. Dazed, he searched the ruins, finally hearing a sobbing coming from the field, he found an old woman,Kneeling in the long grass. She was lost in her grief, crying to the heavens,begging the return of her loved ones.
He aproached, and kneeling beside her said ” Mother, what has happened, where are all the people gone to, I must find Almedra , speak to me, tell me of your sorrow?
The old woman told him all that had gone before. She told him that his betrothed was no more among the living. Sobbing, he fled that scene, running into the hills where he now stood.
Taking his knife, he looked once again down at the valley. In the columns of rising smoke, he thought he could see once again the face of his Beloved. Reaching out with his left hand toward the column of smoke, the curved blade of his shepherds knife transported him to her, together, forever more.
Robin. A. Spicer © 2003-07-30
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