The Sunbird

Three sheikhs of the Drav met them when they descended the mountains of Zeng towards the eastern sea. They were tall, brown-skinned men with fierce eagle features and dark glittering eyes. They wore head-dresses of white over their long black hair, and they dressed in full-length robes belted with sashes of filigree and semi-precious stones. Each carried a magnificent broad curved dagger at his waist, and wore slippers with long pointed toes.

Their warriors dressed differently, wearing baggy pantaloons, on their heads onion-shaped helmets, body armour of silver breastplates; and they were armed with round iron shields and long curved scimitars, spears and short oriental bows. Most of them were Negroes, but they had clearly adopted the Drav manner of speech and dress. Two hundred years of relentless warfare had preceded the treaty between the Drav and the kings of Opet.

The two armies bivouacked on each side of a wide valley, with a stream of clear water overhung with shady green trees separating the camps.

Under these trees the council tents were pitched, and here for five days the two delegations feasted and bargained and manoeuvred diplomatically.

Huy spoke the language of the Dravs and he translated tor Lannon the negotiations towards a treaty of unrestricted trade and mutual military aid.

‘My lord, Prince Hassan is concerned to know how many warriors Opet could put into the field in the event of a threat to the security of the two nations.’

They sat on piles of silken cushions and lovely woven woollen rugs of vivid design and colour, drinking sherbet, for the Drav would not touch even the finest wines, eating a dish of mutton and fish spiced with herbs, smiling at each other and not trusting each other farther than the range of the eye.

‘Prince Hassan,’ replied Lannon, nodding and smiling at him, ‘is concerned to know with what force we would oppose an attempt to seize the gardens of Zeng and the gold mines of the middle kingdom.’

‘Of course,’ Huy agreed. ‘What shall I tell him?’

‘Tell him I can field fourteen regular legions, as many auxiliaries, and 400 elephants.’

‘He will not believe those figures, my lord.’

‘Of course not, no more do I believe his. Tell him anyway.’ And so the bargaining proceeded in an atmosphere of mutual trust.

They agreed to secure each other’s flanks, combine to hold the line of the great river in the north against invasion by the migrant black tribes, and to come to each other’s assistance if that border was violated.

‘The prince would like to revolve the unit of trade, my lord. He suggests that 500 mikthals should equal one Opet finger of gold.’

‘Tell him politely to swing on his own testicles,’ Lannon replied, smiling at the prince, and the prince nodded and smiled back at him, the gem stones sparkling and glittering on his fingers.

They set the rate of exchange at 590 mikthals per finger, and went on to negotiate the slaving agreement, and the cotton and silk clauses. On the fifth day they ate salt together and exchanged extravagant gifts, while the armies gave displays of archery and swordsmanship and drill. These were intended to impress the other side.

‘Their archers are ineffectual,’ Lannon appraised them.

‘The bow is too short, and they draw to the waist not the chin,’ Huy agreed. ‘They limit their range and accuracy.’

Then later when the infantry drilled:

‘Their infantry are lighter armed and armoured, my lord. They have no axemen, and I doubt those breastplates would turn an arrow.’

‘And yet they move fast, and they have a fiery spirit - do not dismiss them lightly, my Sunbird.’

‘No, my lord. I will not do that.’

The elephants charged across the open ground with the archers in their castles spraying a shower of arrows ahead of the line. The huge grey beasts tossed and trampled the lines of straw dummies and their squeals and trumpets rang against the crest of the hills.

‘See their faces,’ Lannon murmured. ‘The prince seems to be looking on the eternal seas!’ And it was true that the Dravs were silent and subdued for they had no elephants of their own, they had not mastered the art of training them.

They parted and when Lannon and Huy looked back into the valley they saw the Drav army winding away eastwards in column, with the sunlight sparkling on helmets and spearheads.

‘Our eastern border is secure for five more years,’ Lannon declared with satisfaction.

‘Or until the princes change their minds,’ Huy qualified.

‘No, Sunbird. They must honour the treaty - it is in their own best interest. Trust me, old friend.’

‘You, I trust,’ said Huy.

On the return to Zeng-Hanno the legions assembled and preparations began for the burning which Lannon planned to lead across the great river.

Huy’s legion was one of those chosen, and he spent much time with his priest-officers. They dined with him in the splendid quarters set aside for him within the enclosure of the temple of Baal. Huy invited the reverend priestesses of Astarte, and provided magnificent fare for he had hunted the day before and there was game to add to the beef and chicken and fish seasoned with spices traded from the Drav, while the gardens of Zeng provided the best of their fruits and wines.

Lannon was the guest of honour, and they were all decked with wreaths of flowers and boisterous with wine.

‘Reverend Mother,’ one of Huy’s priests, a handsome young rake named Bakmor, called across the board to the High Priestess of Astarte. ‘Is it true that you have discovered a new oracle among your novices to replace the Lady