Nothing more is written of the Girdle until the time of the Chronicles of D’Zunalor, the sagas of the Axe King. Here it is written that a ‘wondrous belt’ was taken at the fall of Tchent as part of the plunder. This plunder was taken from Tchent to the Rochagam D’Zunabat, the high plain of the Axe King, where it was distributed among the axe lords and the minor lords. The ‘wondrous belt’ fell to the lot of Zunochon, a very highly placed courtier, perhaps a prince of the Axe King’s line.
The next record is found in the Bagur Namu, the Song of Namu, in which it is recorded that Zunachon gave the Girdle to Chu-Namu, a princess, perhaps priestess, from one of the captive cities, before setting off into the Northlands at the Axe King’s command. He was not seen again. The Bagur Namu says that the Girdle had the power to bind time and that Chu-Namu sought her lover for over five hundred years, not aging during all that time. The Song ends with the end of the search, with Chu-Namu finding her lover at last, ‘beyond the Gate.’ Before entering the Gate with him, she gave the Girdle to her maid, the twelfth generation daughter of the maidservant who had accompanied her mistress on the search five hundred years before. The Song says, ‘She (the maidservant) came back into the west to bring the Girdle of Chu-Namu to that place which waited to receive it.’
The ‘place which waited to receive if could have been a Temple or religious foundation dedicated to Our Lady. This seems likely inasmuch as Chu-Namu was, in some accounts, alleged to be in the service of the Lady at the time of her capture. Since the reign of the Axe King ended in about 164 TC, and the search was said to have lasted for 500 years, the Girdle would have reached its destination sometime in the seventh century TC. Some of the most reliable accounts of that period and the following century mention that something of the kind may have been kept in Howbin, in a shrine or museum of antiquities there.
Since there is no modern mention of this shrine, it must be presumed lost. Perhaps its contents passed into the keeping of one of the Drossynian Lords of Howbin. If the Girdle does, indeed, ‘bind all time, love, and devotion,’ it is likely that it still exists somewhere in those western lands. Certainly Howbin is a likely place to begin to look for it.
There followed in the notes some general observations about the geo-politics of the region to the west of the Sorgian Sea with particular reference to the duchies of Howbin, Sisedge, and Rheesmarch, and generously quoted material from original sources, much of it in the ancient languages of D’Zunalor, Akwith, or the Drossynian Kings. There was also a detailed map of Howbin – a weary and impossible journey to the west from the familiar bounds of Lakland.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEWSON
Year 1167
In his travels across the mountains and valleys and seas of the world, Thewson often found himself remembering – for no reason he could name – the spear round he had made when he reached puberty. It was the custom in the Lion Courts. It was hoped that each young man who returned from the round would have received a message, or failing that, a mark of favour from one or more of the gods. The round was strenuous, but no longer overly dangerous. One of the Chieftains several generations back had ruled that there was no advantage to the tribe in killing off too many of its young men, and the mantraps and deadfalls were removed from the trail of the round. In still later generations the cliff climbs were notched somewhat to afford hand-holds, and by Thewson’s time, the way was almost tame.
Of course, a boy ha^ been killed the previous year by a tiger. Thewson had been told of that several times, in order that he be properly respectful and apprehensive. Actually, no one knew whether it had been a tiger or not. All that had been found were the bones. It could as well have been a snake, striking from beneath a sun-warmed stone.
So, when Thewson began to sprout hair in new places and bulge his loin leathers in an interesting manner, he was taken to the house of the Chieftain, to the very room of the Chair, and there the great chest which was bound in iron and studded with ivory and bloodstones was, opened before him. Inside were the spear blades of the tribe. When a warrior died, the shaft of his spear was broken, but the blades came down from generation to generation, long and narrow as blades of grass, sharp as the sting of scorpions. Thewson was left alone with the blades to listen to them, to hope that one would speak to him. One of the blades was green, with a curled guard and a long tang. It spoke to Thewson the moment he took it from the chest, saying his name three times. Thewson spent an hour in the room, as was proper, but the blade did not speak again. He carried it out proudly into the sunlight and lifted it above his head to show the people his choice. His uncle, the great craftsman, helped him form the shaft and pierce it, to rivet the blade and bind it with strips and tassels of basilisk hide which does not stretch when wet. The spear was too heavy for him, and too tall, much too
