The girl opened her eyes, and saw him and smiled.
‘Baal’s blessings on you, Holy Father,’ she said softly,
‘Tanith!’ gasped Huy.
‘Yes, my lord.’ She was still smiling.
‘This is sacrilege, Huy whispered. ’This is an offence against the goddess.‘
‘To deny my love for you would have been an offence against all nature.’ Tanith sat up on the bed, and kissed him without remorse, without the least sign of guilt.
‘Love?’ Huy asked, his misgivings temporarily forgotten.
‘Yes, my lord,’ Tanith nodded, and kissed him again.
‘But—’ Huy stuttered, and his cheeks turned bright as bush fires. ‘You cannot - how can you love me?’
‘How can I not, my lord?’
‘But my body - my back.’
‘Your back I love because it is part of you, part of your goodness and kindness and wisdom.’
He stared at her for many seconds, then clumsily he took her in his arms and buried his face in the fragrant dark cloud of her hair.
‘Oh, Tanith,’ he whispered. ‘What are we going to do?’
Huy stood on the hilltop in the dawn and waited for his god. Below him the camp stirred. The cooking fires paled in the growing light of day. Small sounds carried up to him, the sounds of 6,000 men preparing for the hunt. The 6,000 warriors of Huy’s legion, and the king’s train, and the slaves and the women and the elephants and the baggage train. Small wonder that the camp filled the entire valley on both sides of the small river that flowed down the escarpment of the hills. Thirty miles away to the north lay the sluggish green ribbon of the great river, sweltering in its hot and inhospitable valley. One of Lannon’s legions was camped there already, and for days now they had been harassing the elephant herds that were feeding along the river. They had attacked them with archers, and javelin-throwers and war elephants.
Under this harassment the herds would leave the valley, taking to their ancient roads out over the escarpment. Lannon was encamped now astride these well-blazed trails, and scouts from the valley had reported the previous evening that the herds were already on the move. They were massing and moving in towards the escarpment wall, and in the next few days they would come pouring up out of the valley in long majestic files, as the old bulls led them to sanctuary from the persistent hunters who plagued them.
Huy Ben-Amon pondered this as he stood in the dawn. He wore light hunting armour and running sandals, and he leaned comfortably on the shaft of the vulture axe. The splendid blade was covered with a soft leather sheath to protect the finely honed edge and the delicate engravings. It seemed to Huy that the gods had so arranged circumstances as to provide him with this opportunity.
For two weeks, ever since that last night of the Festival of the Fruitful Earth, Huy had spent most of his waking moments pondering his dilemma. He had spent hours poring over the sacred books, examining the roles of priest and priestess, their duties and relationship to the gods, and to each other. He thought that from all this research he had built up a case for his behaviour. He could not bring himself to call it sacrilege. He had come now to plead his case, and to receive judgement.
The sun shot its first golden lance against the crest of the hill, and Huy sang the praise chant with all the beauty at his command. Then he made his plea. It was complicated dialectic, based on the concept of earthly representation, and amounting to a line of reasoning which supposed that what was good behaviour between Baal and his mate Astarte would be equally justifiable between their earthly representatives -although, of course, not between a priestess and any other person than the High Priest of Baal. Huy glossed over the more evidently weak spots in his case.
He ended, ‘It may be, however, great Baal and heavenly Astarte, that I am mistaken in my reasoning. It may well be that I have sinned. If this is the case then I deserve your full wrath and, despite my life of service and faithful duty, I deserve the most dire punishment! ’
Huy paused tor effect. ‘I go now to hunt the elephant. I swear on my life that wherever the chase is hottest, there I shall be. Wherever the danger is deadliest, there I shall be.
‘It I have sinned - then let the tusked beasts strike me down. If I have not sinned then let me live and return to the bosom of your priestess. If you grant me life and love - I swear my duty and service will last to the end of my days, and no man nor woman will ever know of the dispensation you have granted me.’ He was quiet a while longer then he spoke again, ‘You who have loved, take pity on one who loves also.’
Huy came down the hill well satisfied with his bargain. He would give the gods full measure. He would not hang back in distaste from the slaughter today, the gods would have every opportunity to demonstrate their outrage. In any event, Huy was well aware that only death could keep him out of Tanith’s arms. The taste of that fruit had been too sweet for him ever to deny it.
‘Huy,’ Lannon shouted as Huy entered the camp. ‘Where have you been?’ He was armed and striding impatiently back and forth outside his tent. He came towards Huy quickly. ‘The day wastes away,’ he cried. ‘Already from the hills our lookouts have seen the approach of the herds.’
The war elephants were ready, drivers sitting on their necks and the tall castles on their backs. Lannon’s hunting party was assembled about the tent. Among them Huy noticed some of the king’s most renowned huntmasters: Mursil, with his purple boozy face, the lean and saturnine Zadal, Huya the celebrated bowman, and the diminutive yellow Xhai whose fame as a tracker had grown apace in the last few years. Beyond them amongst the horde of body slaves towered the colossal black bulk of Timon. Huy smiled at him, and then he hurried beside Lannon to the elephant lines.
Lannon told him, ‘You will ride with me, Sunbird.’ And Huy replied, ‘I am honoured, my lord.
Mursil handed Huy one of the elephant bows. Few men could draw these massive weapons. Carved from solid baulks of wild ebony, they were as thick at the centre as a man’s wrist and strung with twisted strands of lion gut. It required immense strength in the arms and chest to draw one of the five-foot arrows that were armed with a heavy steel head and flighted with wild duck feathers. However, once drawn to the limit and loosed, they could fly 100 paces and bury the arrow up to its feathers in the living flesh of an elephant. They could reach the mighty heart in its castle of ribs, they could cut deep into the massive pink lungs, or loosed with skill they could cut through the
