The roar of voices drowned the valiant efforts of the musicians, and the artistry of the naked girl dancers was impaired by a barrage of ripe grapes aimed by a group of young and noble knights. Hits upon various parts of the girls’ anatomy scored for the marksmen in a contest upon which large ‘ amounts of gold were wagered.
Deep in wine and talk, Lannon was not aware of the change in the feast until almost complete silence had descended upon the hall. He looked up, frowning quickly, and saw that the musicians’ hands had frozen upon their instruments, the dancers stood paralysed, and the guests gawked.
Lannon’s frown deepened to a scowl as he saw Huy Ben-Amon approaching him down the hall. Huy was dressed in a blue tunic with a border of woven gold wire. He wore a gold belt, and a jewelled dagger. His hair and beard were carefully oiled and curled, and golden earrings dangled to his shoulders.
His expression was solemn as he knelt quickly before Lannon, and his voice rang golden and sweet to every corner of the hall.
‘My king, I come to renew my allegiance to you. Let all men know that I honour you above all things, and my loyalty is unto death and beyond.’
Lannon was caught off balance, as Huy had intended. His brain was fuddled with surprise and wine. He fumbled for words, but before he found them, Huy had risen swiftly.
‘As a mark of my faith, I offer a gift.’ He signalled with one hand behind his back, and all heads in the hall swung to the main doors.
The towering figure of Timon stalked into the hall, passed down its length and stopped beside Huy. He stared into Lannon’s face with those ferocious smoky eyes.
Huy whispered, ‘Down!’ And nudged the giant slave, and slowly Timon lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head.
‘But he belongs to the gods,’ Lannon challenged harshly. ‘You declared him god-marked, priest.’
And Huy gathered his resolve, steeling himself to tell the lie, to commit this sacrilege. Despite the fact that he had already explained it to the gods and to Timon, he was uneasy. It was necessary to regain the king’s favour, Huy had explained, there was but one way of doing so. Lannon was bound by his pride. He could not move to break the deadlock. Huy must make the offer. He asked great Baal for permission to deny the bird-footed marking of the slave. He asked aloud, while pacing the roof of his house in the noon day. A distant muttering of summer thunder had been all the answer Huy needed. The gods had answered, but Huy felt nervous, the answer had been in a very minor key, and not without ambiguity. It was also very difficult for Huy to admit that he was wrong - it jarred the very foundations of his soul.
‘My lord,’ said Huy, ‘I was mistaken. The gods have shown me that the markings are not sacred.’
Lannon stared at Huy. He shook his head slightly, as though he doubted the evidence of his own ears.
‘You mean - you give him to me without reservation? I can have him dispatched immediately, if I wish to?’ He leaned forward staring at Huy, ‘Do you give him to me without conditions?’
‘I have declared my love for the king,’ said Huy, and with his foot he nudged Timon.
In a great rumbling bass, Timon spoke his lines in near perfect Punic. ‘I come to you as a living proof of that love.’
Lannon rocked back on his cushions. He thought about it, and the scowl reappeared, as he saw it.
‘You seek to chain me! There are still conditions - only better concealed,’ he growled.
‘Nay, my lord. Not chains, but the silken threads of friendship,’ Huy told him softly. They held each other’s eyes, Lannon beginning to flush with anger. Huy steady and calm.
Then suddenly Huy’s face cracked, and the dark eyes sparkled. The ringlets on his cheeks began to dance with suppressed laughter. Lannon opened his mouth to bellow at him, to reject the gift and the offer of friendship. Instead, laughter rattled up his throat and burst from his open lips. He laughed, until the tears poured down his cheeks and between gusts of laughter he moaned with the pain of his aching belly muscles.
‘Fly for me, bird of the sun,’ he sobbed, and Huy flopped down beside him on the cushions and shook and quivered with laughter.
‘Roar for me. Lion of Opet,’ he cried and a slave girl filled a wine bowl and brought it to him. Huy quaffed half of it, then passed the bowl to Lannon. He drained it. A little wine ran from the comers of his mouth into his golden beard. He smashed the bowl on the stone floor, then clasped Huy about the shoulders.
‘We have wasted much time, my Sunbird. Let us make up for it. What shall we do first?’
‘Drink,’ said Huy,
‘Ah!’ cried Lannon. ‘And then what?’
‘Hunt’, suggested Huy, choosing those activities dearest to the king.
‘Hunt!’ Lannon echoed. ‘Send for my huntmasters - we march tomorrow to hunt the elephant!’
‘Astarte, mother of earth, your beauty is multiplied until it floods my soul,’ muttered Huy, swaying gracefully, as he looked up at the night sky. He reeled backwards, but fell against a wall. It steadied him, and he went on studying the astronomical phenomena in the heavens. Four silver moons hung above the night- revelling city. Huy closed one eye, and three of the moons vanished - he opened it and they reappeared.
‘Astarte, guide your servant’s footsteps,’ Huy entreated, pushed himself away from the wall and went on down the narrow lane towards the harbour. He stumbled over a body lying in the shadows, and stooped unsteadily to check for signs of life.
The body snored and grunted as he rolled it onto its back, and a warm fruity gust of winey breath came up to Huy. It reminded him of the recumbent figures he had left strewn about the banquet hall at the palace. Lannon chief among them, smiling as he slept.
‘Tonight you are in good company, citizen of Opet,’ Huy chuckled, and went tottering onwards down the lane. In an angle of the wall a dark shape moved. Huy peered at it curiously, saw one body, two heads, heard broken gusty breathing, soft incoherent cries. The movements were small, but unmistakable. Huy smiled, tripped and nearly fell. He saw a startled girl’s face turn towards him from the gloom. ‘Let all things be fruitful,’ he told her solemnly and went on, and as he went another figure slipped silently from the dark lane and followed Huy. The
