Chapter Twenty two - Sacred tent

Perched between a circle of camels and a small fire of brushwood the five travelers ate strips of dry meat, small rations that were just enough to stave off the worst of hunger. A few swigs of conserved water accompanied their meagre meal; Insufficient for many, but the caravaneers were used to the limitations. Their bodies were adjusted to the regiment of the desert and did not complain. A cold breeze brushed over the camels against which the caravaneers sat. Above them in the sky countless stars and a bright crescent giving a weak shine over the dunes.

The caravaneers were still wrapped in their extensive bindings to keep away grains of gritty sand and the scalding touch of the sun. They slowly chewed as they stared into the small fire in their midst. Their shoulders were tensed and their necks somewhat retracted, rigid sitting statues whose hands held long knives at the ready or gripped uneasily around the hilts of their bows.

One of caravaneers thought he heard something, peered out into the darkness, then returned his gaze to the fire as it snapped and threw upwards a flutter of sparks. They were in absolute silence, tired eyes troubled with uncertainty.

‘She is great.’ Dan Sarpa spoke. His turban had lowered until it slid over his thin eyebrows. His four fellows jerked their heads towards him.

‘Magnificent.’ The sapphire merchant continued, voice assuring. ‘When I first saw her I was just with a few, now I’m with many. How close have any of you been with the High-priestess in Uruk? Seen her figure from a distance perhaps. That one has no need for men like you. But her sister, Semiramis -’ His words became hushed as he spoke the name of his mistress. ‘-Shé will appreciate. She has need for men like you. She will take you in with open arms...’ Sapphire fell silent, scanning the faces of the caravaneers. Such hardy men, skin hard leather and limbs sinewy, even they could falter.

On tales of magnificence and promise they had been drawn to the occulted allure of her sister, with all the hazards it entailed. But Sapphire had seen, not heard, and he trembled at the thought of being with her again. His heart beat faster with excitement and want, suppressed frightened lust, and a sense of purpose surpassing fear of men; even those from Uruk.

‘Men, pay attention.’ Sapphire commanded. ‘I will show you her touch, the loving mark she places on the skin of her followers.’

He raised his long robes to show his thin frame, pale freckled skin glowing in the light of fire until he reached his chest, where thick white scars of of branding permanently read:

The exalted one reaches out and binds her servants with excruciating pain, her touch searing hot as it delivered blessings. How it had hurt, Sapphire recalled. He had suffered. But he could not deny it contained a hint of pleasure. His screams, the spit dribbling from his clenched teeth, mere steps to a paradisiacal union with his divine mistress.

Sapphire lowered his robes again. ‘I serve the wild dove, the beloved red. And so will you. You are chosen. Let the rest waddle in mud, misery and within the bounds of the sheepfold. Soon there’ll be no more uncertainty, no more doubt. She will be there and at her feet you will lay.’

***

Their travels continued by day, resting at night with fire if possible or huddled against each other shivering in the cold desert night. The great sea of sand was crossed and black mountains appeared on the horizon, isles of black volcanic rocks arising from the seemingly endless dunes.

The rocks heightened and narrow canyons soon swallowed the fellowship, like black gates of an ancient fortress. Burning sun made way for shadow. A few resistant grass-stalks were embedded in the steep rock sides.

One of the caravaneers spotted a desert’s hare, a small furry animal with a sand-coloured hide and elongated ears. It showed a curious snout over a higher ledge of jagged black stone, looking at the passing camels further below. An arrow pulled it from its hiding place with a shriek, the hare falling down and its twitching body retrieved.

‘Fresh meat.’ One of the caravaneers stated triumphantly, the dead hare raised high to the others. Sapphire nodded, then gently pressed his legs against Medif’s sides, urging the proud camel to continue the journey. Five camels made their way through the canyons in silence. A labyrinth it was, but Sapphire knew the way. They circled, pushed through and ascended to emerge on an uneven plateau. The sun enveloped them again with its oppressive heat.

From the plateau they could see over the duneland from which they had come in the east. The camels sat down on the rock and Sapphire scoured the horizon with his ocular. Nothing. The desert was blissfully empty, the wind had wiped out their tracks, and a careful sense of safety approached Dan Sarpa. These here were Semiramis’ rocks, these here were Semiramis’ sands. No hunting wolves trailing them. As his tensed shoulders relaxed his stomach gave a grumble.

‘How about that hare?’ He asked.

The hare-hunter noticed the upbeat in his master’s tone and worked on the rabbit with a faint smile. They collected brushwood from the rocksides, breaking the dry branches and lighting them to a small fire. The smoke of fire could be a risk, but this far from Uruk Sapphire felt confident. It would also signal to Semiramis’ men that they were close; Undoubtedly a few hardy faces were hidden within this elevated landscape.

Suddenly one of the camels rose up, a warning growl escaping its elongated throat. Sapphire walked over, seeing a small black scorpion scuttling over the rock plateau. He flicked his fingers at one of the caravaneers. ‘You, kill that scorpion and bring me its body. Try to keep it in good order.’

The chosen caravaneer walked over, pulled a long blade and carefully took position. ‘An Inkmaker?’ He asked and Sapphire nodded.

The caravaneer was unmoving for a while, then swiftly struck to impale the little scorpion on the tip of his shortsword. Its tiny feet twitched as it was raised towards Sapphire, who did not accept until the little creature had curled up safely into death.

Finally seeing the scorpion moving no longer, Sapphire took it from the bronze blade and walked back to the campfire, where the hare now had been skinned completely into a fleshy lump.

He sat down like a weaver and gently placed the dead scorpion before him. Out of his deep pockets he took small silver tools and set to dissect the creature. Raising the black chitin Sapphire severed the stinger and sought to identify the poison sack that contained the valuable, potent venom. Sapphire took out a glass vial into which he squeezed out the fleshy organ. Then he carefully took a few droplets to fill one of his ring’s compartments. A profoundly excruciating toxin. He washed his hand with a few swishes of their rationed water, rubbed it in the sand for good measure, and then waited until the hare was roasted.

The small group of caravaneers ate eagerly, the taste of fresh meat welcome after days of dried strips and old grains that sucked the moisture from one’s mouth. They ate until the sun started to lower.

***

‘The time has come to go again.’ Sapphire stated, sucking the marrow from broken rabbit bones.

‘We are close and we will take no more rest until we have reached hér. By nightfall you will be in hér presence, my men, my brothers.’

They re-entered the dark canyons. They followed a ledge against the rock wall, the path bringing them into a valley. In red and black evening, tiny glowing lights became visible in the distance. As time passed the lights grew larger, showing them to be tents illuminated from the inside like oversized lanterns. Forty of them, gathered around a greater one; a massive structure of fabrics and ropes, great and circular. Their path swirled through the rocks down to the basin where the tents stood.

The sudden whistling of an approaching arrow made the Sapphire merchant instinctively freeze. A wooden shaft landed before his camel’s large feet, clattering over the stones. The small caravan of five riders and their mounts halted.

Sapphire looked around, seeing figures arise from the rock side above. They had burrowed themselves like ticks and emerged in the gloomy half dark. Stones rolled down as they descended. Dark haired men pointed Spears and serrated arrows at the caravaneers. Their expressions were difficult to read.

The mountain men were dressed in rags, had curling unkempt beards, and volcanic ash had been rubbed on their skin and in their long dark greasy strands of hair.

‘Ho.’ Sapphire held up a hand in greeting. ‘Ho. Greetings. I have come to bring gifts to your mistress.’

He was replied with hard stares. Sapphire smiled nervously. ‘You don’t recognize me?’ He pointed at his gemmed turban. Then he gestured at his small following. ‘I know the men that accompany me, they come to serve.’

One of the wildmen barked something, and the group clambered back up the rockside, scattering amongst its crevices and holes, fusing again with the dark rock. The barker remained with two of his men. He seemed slightly better off than the rest, three golden rings of various thickness on his black-nailed fingers and a decorated knife at his hip, of the type one usually found at the side of a wealthy merchant. The wildman gestured with a quick neck movement for the Sapphire merchant and his caravan to follow, and hastily led them over the path down into the encampment of tents.

A banner stood the camp’s entrance, showing the sign of Semiramis: a crude red dove on white fabric.

Night was settling in, and in the darkness not many were outside. Those that Sapphire encountered were all men, one carrying buckets of water from a nearby well, another two busy with butchering a goat, and they all gave the same expression; unfriendly empty eyes that followed the newcomers with haunting gaze.

From the tents no sound came. No music or laughter, no raised voices. Through the tent-canvases unmoving silhouettes were visible. The black silhouettes slowly brought food to their mouths, sharpened knives, or just sat still rigidly. An exception to the silence was the large central tent, which upon closing in revealed itself to be patched together from many different fabrics of various colours and patterns. Here drums and lyres and the flute were audible, inviting them into the soft-lighted entrance.

‘Wait. Here.’ The dark haired man ordered, before entering himself. Shortly later he re-emerged.

‘She awaits you.’ He said with a bow of his head, and disapeared into the darkness.

Sapphire entered the pavilion eagerly with long strides, no longer able to contain his excitement. The floor inside was covered in thick woven colourful carpets, gritty sand showing where they did not reach. An overhanging oil lamp shined red light over a tight corridor with walls made of cloth. A gentle flute lured him in, through small rooms and walkways, the tones simple and comforting. A long naked leg daringly showed around a corner and Sapphire ran forward, but the chamber was already abandoned when he reached it. Feminine laughter came from nearby and the flute continued. Sapphire ran, face sweaty, frantically, feverishly searching though the great tent.

Then he stumbled in a large room, furnished with pillows and many shining lights. There Semiramis awaited, standing in the middle of the room.

Semiramis’ tall body was raised high, and she played the flute with closed eyes. With startling realization Sapphire realized she was naked. Her skin was lighter than that of her sister; pale and fair like porcelain. His eyes started to pull towards her intimacy, then he realized he was facing the Divine and he hurled himself before her feet. Looking up with shivering body he saw Semiramis, gazing back with contentment. Contentment!

She had almond shaped night-black eyes. Her slender, child-like face was graced with long silken-straight auburn-red hair, cropped straight over her forehead. Her mouth smiled gently, bringing small dimples to her smooth light-skinned cheeks. Not as tall as Eneduanna, more finely built, but still towering high above the men she commanded.

Semiramis put away the flute and squatted down before the kneeling merchant, Sapphire nearing ecstasy as her scent filled his nose. She smelled of spice, ripe fruit and sweet sweat. Her long fingers took hold of his head, penetrating under his turban and digging affectionately through his hair. ‘Dan-Sarpa.’

The merchant bowed deeper. ‘My Goddess!’ He exclaimed. ‘My everything. I have traveled to you with success, magnificent one.’

‘A good journey, yes?’ She asked softly, cocking her head slightly as he drowned in the black pools of her eyes.

Sapphire stammered. ‘I, -’ He took a deep breath to calm his tongue. Do not disappoint her, Sarpa.

‘I spoke with the King of Uruk. The seeds hae been planted and he allowed me safe passage out of the city. With careful optimism I say he will bow to you, instead of -...’ He fell silent as he saw her smiling face turned into a grimace.

She opened her mouth in disbelief. ‘Careful - optimism?’ She repeated. Semiramis raised herself to her full length again, head nearing the ceiling of the tent.

She placed her long foot on his neck, forcing his face into old dusty carpet.

The merchant winced. ‘He will, yes, he will. The King is yours, great Semiramis. He will allow you into his house. Great lady, enter Uruk and see its men bow to you.’

She removed her foot. Her face calmed slightly, but her beautiful eyes still showed fire.

Sapphire gave his best smile. ‘I have also brought a gift to you, perfect one.’ He was happy to see a sense of curiosity appear over Semiramis face, and a small smile dimpled her cheeks again.

‘What then?’

Sapphire pushed himself up to his knees, and her knees were before his head.

‘Sadly I was forced to abandon my original gift of fine fabrics and chests of expensive trade goods. I was also to forced abandon most of my men and camels. Uruk came hunting. But here, we took this from them. We, I, killed for you...’

He showed the torn banner of Eneduanna, unfurling it and placing it before her feet. The eight pointed star, embroidered gold on black weavery. A rough piece of work, but she seemed joyed by it.

Semiramis clapped her hands in delight. She clawed the banner up from the carpets and spun around as she held it before her eyes. Semiramis’ white teeth flashed between her red lips. ‘This is very good.’ She said with sparkling voice and Sapphire’s eyes moistened. After a final inspection she put away the banner.

‘Your men, they wish to serve?’

Sapphire suddenly realized his traveling fellows were present as well. Four men on hands and knees behind him, noses touching the ground.

‘Yes. They are good men, loyal men. They have served me well and they are eager for your blessing, perfect one. Already they killed for you - killed your sister’s men without hesitation.’

Semiramis nodded. ‘Very well. But first celebration, you came across the sands for me, I must show hospitality, even in these - modest - conditions.’

She clapped her hands again, harder now. ‘Karkid!’ Her fine voice gained a sharp, impure edge, lined with irritation and contempt. From behind a curtain a woman shuffled forward. Many dark brown curls flowed down her head like helixes. Her nose was aquiline; thin and with a slight crook. She seemed dwarfed by Semiramis, like a little daughter. The curly-haired servant wore simple red cloth around her hips, and her chest showed small breasts with brown nipples. Her skin was tanned, visibly contrasting with that of Semiramis. Sapphire noticed bruises on her arms and legs. The woman seemed tired, unhappy, but he saw she forced a smile onto her face to greet the visitors of her mistress. She wore a heavy bronze collar, from which a golden pendant hung inscribed with symbols. Semiramis lifted the pendant, showing it to Sapphire.

 - 

‘Slave of the Exalted Priestess is her name now. But you will call her Karkid.’

Semiramis long arm grabbed hold of Karkid’s curling hair and yanked the woman closer, whose kohl lined eyes became teary - though her mouth did not cry out. Silent like a doll.

‘You look horrid, Kar-kid.’ Tall Semiramis spat out the name with disdain.

Karkid apologised while her head was jerked backwards: ‘I am sorry mistress. I was busy with my duties.’

Semiramis let go, gesturing to Dan Sarpa. ‘These men have served me well. We have guests from across the sands. From Uruk! Perhaps you will see that city one day. Give them wine and entertain them. Come now, fast, do not make them wait.’

Karkid scurried away, returning with a heavy earthen amphora from which she poured red liquid in simple earthen cups. With steady hand she offered one to each of the men, momentarily crossing eyes with Sapphire as she handed a cup to him. Within it he read fear.

Meanwhile Semiramis sat down on the carpets and reclined her long naked body against the pillows. ‘What news you bring from Uruk?’

‘Eneduanna -’ Sapphire started, but Semiramis held out an elongated long-nailed finger while her light face darkened. ‘Do not speak that cursed name of hers.’

‘Of Course.’ He replied nervously. ‘Your sister, if I may call her that, has conquered the neighbouring Kingdom of Larsa. She offered them mercy or cruelty, and they chose to keep the gates closed before her throne. She has laid waste to it. Massacred its people, enslaved the few survivors. The temple of Larsa she has dedicated to Inanna and placed in it an idol bearing her own image. The northern cities of Isin and the southern cities of Ur and Eridu are aligning themselves against Uruk. War is expected to come.’ Sapphire emptied the cup of wine.

Semiramis was listening attentively. Her long curling eyelashes over her black eyes she directed at the merchant. ‘These dry wastes offer little beyond a few sparse tribes, no culture worth discussing. You are here, and you will stay. You must tell me more about Uruk the coming days, anything you can think off; I want to know everything.’

The slave, Karkid, sensed his cup was empty and walked over. ‘More wine, lord?’

The merchant nodded, keeping his eyes on Semiramis, whose hands had exchanged the flute for a long slender pipe of some sorts. She lit it and handed it over to Karkid, who offered it to him. He pulled in bittersweet smoke and ecstatic feeling overcame him. His body slumped on the carpet. Relaxed, happy, secure. Bless my luck, I have found heaven on earth where I serve my Goddess. And then his thoughts lost their coherence and he drifted away on cool clouds.

The flute renewed playing. He vaguely registered the others also partaking from the pipe, hearing dimly their almost sensual sighs and groans. They were led on by the tones of the piper until eventually Dan Sarpa found himself in the tent again, soft pillows under his elbows.

Karkid noticed him wake and quickly whispered to her tall mistress, who immediately turned with an eager grin.

Behind her a small furnace was raging, white hot coals, the heat reaching the merchant and making him sweat under his robes. The bright fiery light of the furnace glowed over Semiramis’ pale naked body. ‘Bring your men to me, Dan Sarpa. I will accept them as my servants.’

He had difficulty finding the strength, but he forced himself up despite his bodily weakness. The merchant slouched towards his men, criss-crossed around the chamber between pillows and carpets, their eyes still closed in bliss. He picked one, struggled to drag him up, and brought him before the Mistress. Under the gentle push of Sapphire’s hands the man went to his knees.

Semiramis took out a copper pole, the metal end shaped into her name. The curling symbols were glowing white-red, and the air around the brand simmered from the heat.

Sapphire knew what to do, taking off the sweat-scented shirt of the caravaneer, who still stared up at Semiramis in half-delight.

The tall woman smiled back as she pushed the searing hot metal on his skin, pressing it firmly on the caravaneer’s stomach. The man looked confused for a moment, then opened his mouth to produce a groan that developed into a scream of sudden pain. He recoiled back, but Semiramis expertly kept the brand on her servant. She hummed contently as she heard the hissing sound of burning flesh, and pulled back, returning the brand to the furnace.

The man gasped unsteadily, spit dripping from his mouth. Tall Semiramis put her long fingers on his roughed chin and raised his head. ‘Say my name.’

‘Semiramis...’

‘And are you mine?’

‘Y...yes. YES.’ He threw himself at her feet. Semiramis averted herself from him, weight shifting to one leg and hand resting on her naked hip. One of her fingers tapped impatiently against her leg. ‘Next.’

The others had awoken, their companion’s sudden screaming pulling them from their delighted cloudy existences. They looked at each other, attempting to read each other’s minds, then the second rushed forward, and with trembling body he offered himself up to the priestess. She branded him , and the one after him   , and the one after .

She stepped back to look at her work. ‘Karkid, you know what I need. Go fetch it.’

The slave went away in silence, her bare feet not audible on the soft carpets. Semiramis smiled at the branded men. ‘You will receive another gift from me, a most gracious blessing. To serve my will forever, will you do that for me?’

The men agreed. Sapphire shifted. Semiramis noticed his nervosity. ‘Do not worry, Sarpa. You are the exception. Watch and see.’

The caravaneers now started to feel the true burn of their marks. With difficulty they kept their expressions under control, refusing to show their pain.

Karkid returned, a small polished wooden box in her hands which she handed over to her tall mistress. The slave woman pushed back her curls, something Sapphire identified as excitement. An involuntary eager haste in her movements, perhaps not even recognized by herself. But he knew eyes did not lie, and hers glinted with feverish attention. What was about to happen?

He mulled throwing himself to where the others awaited but kept in place. Jealousy tightened his throat with strangling grip as he watched the ceremony unfoil.

Semiramis opened the box, taking out of it a melange of grey and orange powder and piling it up on her palm. Her thumb and pink were outstretched. She leaned down to the awaiting men, legs bent and one hand resting on her knee, and blew the powder on their faces. The caravaneers inhaled and groaned slightly, their bodies immediately becoming rigid. Then their heads dropped. Fine particles hung through the air, and the nearby onlooking merchant found his thoughts become dulled for a moment.

‘You, Dan Sarpa, you I allow to keep your own mind. These here before me, they no longer think. Servants, as they wished and agreed. Slaves endure their miseries, but these are completely content to serve. They have found more tranquility and peace than most souls could even hope to find.’

Dan Sarpa realized how close he had come to be bound completely and bowed his head, unsure how to feel. ‘Thank you, Revered one.’

‘Karkid. Take these away. You know what to do.’

‘As you wish, mistress.’

The room cleared, the Exalted priestess and the Sapphire merchant alone between the tent-fabrics.

Semiramis looked at the merchant attentively. ‘Do not look so sullen, Dan Sarpa, rejoice. You have found your way back to me. You are safe, here, in my embrace.’

She walked over until she stood right before him, her breasts hovering above his turban and his face before her navel. She took him and held him against her body. ‘I'm pleased with what you did, you must do more.’ Sapphire closed his eyes as the scent of her skin became his world. Her voice became very soft and fragile. ‘Will you impress me again Dan Sarpa?’