the object of popular adulation throughout the city.
They crossed the market-place with its fascinating smells and sights and sounds of hides and humanity, of spices and open sewers. On one of the slave blocks was a light-skinned girl of mixed Yuye blood, and the auctioneer spotted Huy in the crowd and called out to him.
‘My lord, a work of art for you. A statue in yellow ivory,’ opening the girl’s cloak to display her body.
Huy laughed and waved a hand in refusal. They moved along the stone jetty at the lakeside where the ships lay with stern almost touching stern, their hatches open and a boiling of stevedores running over them, loading and unloading the merchandise. From the taverns and wineshops flanking the jetty came the sour stench of cheap wine and gusts of drunken laughter. The street girls beckoned from the narrow lanes between the shops. The uncertain light of dusk softened their raddled features and hectic painted cheeks and lips - Huy wondered what solace a man could find with the likes of them.
Beyond the bustle of the harbour area lay the town houses of the noble families and rich merchants, each protected by the high mud outer wall and a heavy carved wooden gate. Huy’s new residence was one of the least pretentious of these, with the entrance off a narrow walled lane, and a view from the flat roof over the lake.
Once through the gate Huy shed his sword and cloak and handed them to Timon with a sigh of pleasure at the moment of homecoming, and he went through into the paved central courtyard.
The princes and princesses were waiting tor him, fourteen of them, headed by the twins, Helanca and Imilce. The two of them had grown in the past years, and they were stranded now in that awkward period between girlhood and womanhood. Too young to giggle, yet too old to greet Huy with a kiss.
There were no such inhibitions upon the younger members of house Barca, and they swarmed forward to engulf Huy. The religious instruction of the children of the royal house was a duty Huy had imposed upon himself, and despite the estrangement between king and priest, Lannon had not interfered with this arrangement. He had not sanctioned it, but he had not forbidden it. Huy led his students through into the airy living-room of the house.
In the courtyard one of the royal nursemaids waited until her charges had followed the priest before she turned and her eyes sought those of Timon. She was a tall girl with strong shoulders, long-waisted and with fruitful hips. Her legs also were straight and strong, but her hands were narrow and pink-palmed and delicately shaped. She wore her hair oiled and dressed in the manner of the Vendi, for she was of Timon’s tribe. Taken in the great raid, she was not slave born, not of the humble dependent breed that had known nothing but captivity. There was a fierce spirit in her to match Timon’s.
Her skin was a shade lighter than his, her face was round, moon-shaped, her nose flat and broad, her lips full and pouting, but her teeth were small and even, and very white when she smiled at Timon.
Timon inclined his head sharply in a command, and Sellene the slave girl nodded in acknowledgement. When Timon left the courtyard and went through the kitchens into the slave quarters she followed him.
He was waiting for her in his own tiny room with its single pallet of reed mat and furs. She went to him without hesitation, and lay against the great hard muscles of his chest and belly and thighs. Her round breasts jutting through the purple tunic of house Barca pressed against Timon.
They held their faces together, sniffing softly but eagerly at each other’s eyes and mouth and nostrils, clinging to each other in their need and wanting.
‘When I hold you, then once again I am King of Vendi, and no slave dog,’ Timon whispered, and the girl groaned against him with her love.
With gentle hands that could crush the life from a man Timon loosened her tunic and carried her to the pallet. He laid her upon the bed, and as he came over her he said, ‘You shall be the first of all my wives. You shall be my queen and the mother of my sons.’
‘When shall it be?’ she asked him and her voice shook with the emotions locked within her.
‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘Very soon now. I have what I came for, and I will take you back beyond the river. I shall be the greatest king the tribes have ever known, and you shall be my queen.’
‘I believe you,’ whispered Sellene.
‘My royal lords and fair ladies.’ The children squealed with glee, it was one of their jokes when Huy addressed them that way. ‘Today I have a special treat for you!’ Again pandemonium broke out. Huy’s treats were usually something special indeed.
‘What is it?’ Imilce demanded breathlessly.
‘This evening you will meet the oracle of Opet,’ Huy announced, and the uproar subsided swiftly. The small ones not understanding but none the less infected by the solemnity of their elders. The bigger children had heard of the oracle, their nurses often frightened them into obedience with the name. Now that they were about to meet this mythical creature the atmosphere was charged with tension. They were all of them suffering from an onset of the creeps and ghostlies.
Anna spoke for all of them when she asked in a very subdued voice, ‘She won’t eat us, will she?’
When Tanith came she seated herself amongst them, and threw the hood of her cloak back from her face. She smiled at the children, and said softly, ‘I am going to tell you a story.’ The smile and the promise were enough to ease the tension and they edged in closer to her. ‘It’s the story of the marriage of the great god Baal to the goddess Astarte.’
Tanith began the tale from religious mythology which was the basis of the Festival of the Fruitful Earth, a festival celebrated every five years. This year of Opet 538 was the 106th ceremony since the founding of the city, and the following day would begin the festivities that would last for ten days.
Tanith held her young audience enthralled, speaking in the compelling voice which Huy had trained so carefully, using the mannerisms and gestures he had taught her. Huy watched her with an unusual mixture of professional appraisal and the adulation of a besotted lover.
In two years she had lost the last traces of gawkiness and uncertainty, and although she was not yet twenty years of age, there was an inner calm, a serenity of mind and expression, that befitted her role of seeress and occult adviser to a nation. No matter that her pronouncements were carefully coached and rehearsed by Huy Ben- Amon, it was she that made the delivery, and made it convincingly. Much of Huy’s material success in the last two years stemmed from the questions and requests for guidance addressed to Tanith by the rich merchants and trading syndicates of Opet - and Tanith’s replies. The supplicants were usually well satisfied with Tanith’s advice, though it was always couched in terms of ambiguity to insure against recriminations. Did it matter that Huy Ben- Amon was also well satisfied?
