But its back was turned to Huy,
The knotted spine stood out clearly through the wrinkled dry skin, great knuckles of bone braced for the blade. Huy struck, the killing stroke that crashed through the bone, and severed the soft yellow core of the spinal tissue. The bull shrieked, and collapsed, kicking and shaking spasmodically in its death throes,
Huy jumped down from its pulsating body and danced back out of danger from the legs and trunk of the dying beast. He felt a soaring sense of triumph and relief. It was done, he had flown upon the wings of the storm - and lived through it.
He heard the wild shrill trumpeting of the other bull, and he spun around. One glance showed him that the task was not yet completed, the gods were not finished with him.
Zadal had blundered. His second cut had missed the tendon and the bull was on three legs, but moving with agility and speed as it hunted the man. Zadal had thrown his axe aside, and was running, dodging up the slope with the bull close upon him. The bull was shrieking with rage, its trunk outstretched, gaining swiftly on the fleeing man.
As Huy started forward it caught him. It wrapped its trunk around Zadal’s body and flung him high in the air, above the tops of the tallest trees and his body spun loosely in the air. He fell face down on the rocky earth, and the bull placed one foot in the small of his back while with its trunk it plucked his head from his body, the way a farmer kills a chicken, and it tossed the head aside. It bounced and rolled down the slope like a child’s ball.
Huy ran towards the bull, scrambling up the slope. The bull knelt on the mangled corpse and drove one tusk through Zadal’s chest. It was so preoccupied with the mutilation of Zadal’s body that Huy came up easily behind it.
He saw the deep gash in the back of the bull’s knee where Zadal’s stroke had failed to find the tendon, and the vulture axe moaned softly in flight. This time there was no mistake.
‘I give you a new title.’ Lannon lifted his wine bowl, and silence fell expectantly on the nobles and knights who sat about his board. I give a battle honour for the man who has flown on the wings of the storm.‘
Huy dropped his eyes modestly, blushing a little in the torch light under the leather awning of Lannon’s campaign tent.
‘Huy Ben-Amon - Axeman of the Gods!’ Lannon shouted the title, and the nobles echoed it, saluting Huy with clenched fists.
‘Drink. Huy! Drink, my Sunbird!’ Lannon offered Huy his own wine bowl. Huy sipped the wine, smiling around at the company. Tonight he would not look too deeply into the wine bowl. He did not want to cloud or befuddle this sense of joy. The gods had answered him. and he sat quietly smiling in the midst of noisy revelry, hardly hearing the laughter and the banter, listening instead to the voice deep inside him which sang, Tanith! Tanith!‘
When he rose to leave, Lannon was outraged, dragging him down into his seat by the hem of his tunic.
‘You’ll not leave here on your feet, Axeman. You deserve to be carried to your couch this night! Come, I challenge you to a bout with the wine cups.’
Huy shrugged aside the challenge, laughing and shaking his head.
‘One challenge a day, my lord, I beg of you.’
Outside the night was still, and the sky was brilliant with the stars. The heat of the day was cooling, and the feel of the night wind in his face was like the caress of Tanith’s silky tresses against his cheek.
‘Astarte!’ The goddess rose out of the valley, the golden disc of her countenance lighting the land with a soft radiance. ‘Mother of earth, I thank you,’ Huy whispered, and felt the tears of happiness flood his eyes.
He moved on through the camp towards his own tent, hugging the warmth of his love secretly to him.
Tanith,‘ he whispered, ’Tanith.‘
He moved on through the shadows until movement caught his attention, and he stopped. Beside one of the cooking fires crouched a figure, a slave woman working on the grinding stone, crushing corn for cakes.
The firelight caught her handsome features, and shone on the dark skin of her strong arms. It was the nurse Sellene.
Huy was about to move on, when the slave girl looked up expectantly. A man came towards her out of the darkness, and the girl’s face lit with such a look of adoration, such unashamed love, that Huy felt his heart go out to her
The man stepped into the firelight, and it needed only one glance at the powerful body and rounded bald head for Huy to recognize Timon.
Sellene stood up and went quickly to meet Timon, and they embraced. Then sniffed at each other’s face in the strange love greeting of the pagans, holding each other closely. Huy smiled tenderly, feeling the warm sympathy of the lover for all other lovers Timon drew back from the girl, holding her at arm’s length and he spoke softly. Huy could not catch the words. He heard only the sort rumble of Timon’s voice, and the girl nodded quickly.
Timon left her and disappeared amongst the tents. Sellene went to the grinding stone and filled a leather bag with ground corn, then she glanced about furtively and followed Timon into the darkness. Huy watched her go, and smiled.
‘I must talk to Lannon,’ he thought. ‘I could arrange a pairing between those two.’
In his own tent Huy took the golden scroll and spread it upon his writing pallet. He adjusted the lamp wicks, picked up his engraving tool, and began to write the poem to Tanith.
‘Her hair is dark and soft as the smoke from the papyrus fires upon the great lake,’ he wrote, and the incident between Timon and Sellene was forgotten.
Exhaustion overcame him a little after midnight, and he fell forward across his writing pallet and he slept with one cheek pressed to the love poem to Tanith on the golden scroll. The lamp flames smoked and faded and died.
