Of Priests And Kings, The Chosen

                    Of Priests And Kings

                 The Chosen

        By Mark C. Peterson - All Rights Reserved



                                                Prologue                                                                                       

      As humans, we like predictability. We want to believe that today is a logical extension of the past, and that tomorrow will be more of the same. We give lip service to change so long as it falls within acceptable limits, and does not challenge the idols of our daily lives. The jobs we do, the wealth and power we crave, the people we meet… or talk about, our recreation and service, the youth athletics or dance, and even the repeating patterns of our homes take on an almost religious fervor that defines our lives. Much is a

pageant played out on the stage of our minds which we applaud in solitude, desperately hoping for an audience to join us. The false consistency of such a life is the staff upon which we lean, hoping for a chance at real friendship, or even love, without risking too much. Ahhh, but God and His universe have surprises in store, and on occasion shatter the comforts of our false perceptions, forcing us to choose between a higher standard, or hell.

Like the occasional great storm in life that renews the earth even as it destroys, the herald of true change  can be small, even innocent in its initial appearance, giving little warning of the calamity and glory that are about to descend. Like an ancient proverb, sometimes, when God wants change he sends an innocent baby, and so it begins.

                                       

                                                  Part One

                        The Beginning

                                    Tuneea

Near the galactic center two suns revolve around each other in a graceful ballet of light and power. The largest one is yellow and the smaller one red. Respectively, they are the Mataharee, or Mata for short, and the Matakachil. In the ancient tongue they mean the ‘Eye of the Day’ and the ‘Little Eye’ respectively. Between them is a planetary jewel of blue and green that teases them both in a perfect, synchronous dance, first with one and then the other. It has an abundance of water and land, and a profusion of life; it is the planet Tuneea. Solaterra is situated on its equatorial bulge, and is one of many continents on this rich celestial orb. On its high plains is the capitol, Kotasol, a city of many millions. At 500 years old it is still beautiful, with its many white domed and red tiled roofs. The skyline is dominated by two structures, the Jareem Palace and the great Temple of Soaleem, in whose shadow a miracle is about to unfold in a rather typical house with its central courtyard.



                                                Chapter 1

                                       Birth, 972 AS

Pekal could see a faint glow of light over the central mountains to the east and thought, ‘It is good to be up before the shadows.’ He took a deep breath, savoring the fragrance of change that comes with early spring, and wondered what other changes it might portend.

He was standing at the top of the expansive steps of the ancient Soaleem Temple. Despite its age it was still beautiful, even magnificent as it towered upward on a promontory at the southern edge of the city. It faced north. The largest boulevard of Kotasol began at the base of its steps and flowed down across the Eebal River, only to disappear into the crowded buildings that lined its northward course as it continued out onto the high plains of Solaterra.

‘The city has grown large’, thought Pekal. Then he smiled as he looked down at his home only a short distance away. He could see a whiff of softly glowing smoke rising from its courtyard, and he knew that Kieenda was waiting for him, along with her brother Tuaka. In a matter of days she would give birth to their firstborn, and he was excited…and a little apprehensive. His prominent position as a Ketua of Soaleem made this pregnancy a matter of public interest. But it was his heritage, and Kieenda’s, that had started the rumors that even now quietly circulated through many of the homes and backrooms of the capital. Even the king in his palace was privy to what this could mean. Below him a man sat partly concealed in the shadows across from his home; he was a spy for the king and had been there for days. Pekal shuddered involuntarily and then forced himself to think of other things.

He relaxed as he took one last look at the sunrise and smiled at the pastel colors that now washed over the clouds, and then felt his reverie interrupted by the need to return home to more pressing matters. Taking another deep breath he started down the steps as he spoke to himself, “I must speak with Tuaka. If our baby is indeed the chosen one, we’ll need a place to hide him.”

                                              --------- . ---------

The brazier glowed gently as it radiated a comfortable heat to the two people beside it in the courtyard. Seated was Kieenda; she looked up. The open courtyard revealed the clouds above, and even though Pekal was not yet home she was able to share the sunrise with him. Like him, she watched as the first light of the Mata, the large yellow sun, spread from the east across the sky, chasing the colors of the sunrise into the west until they were gone, and the last of the stars extinguished. She knew he would soon be home.

Tuaka, her brother, stood behind with his attention focused on her, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She looked at the door, wondering when her husband would return. These last few weeks he had gotten into the habit of going to the Temple before sunrise, and she knew why. He was concerned for their baby and sought guidance. Behind her the man cleared his throat and she turned to face him. He radiated a charming mix of confidence, competence and kindness that drew people to him. He was smiling.

In spite of herself she smiled back and said, “What are you thinking? I can see it in your eyes, and you know you want to say it.”

Nodding, Tuaka hesitated only a moment and then leaned back against the table behind him. “Kiee, you know your husband holds the birthright of the Ethrim High Judges, and you…you are a direct descendant of the ancient High Priest. I don’t need to remind you that IF you have a son he could fulfill the prophecy, but…”

Her smile faded ever so slightly as she cut him off, “My dear brother, the child IS a boy, I have seen him in my dreams, and yes, I know the prophecy; and you do keep reminding me.”

Tuaka smiled at this and then continued, “But, we won’t know for sure unless the sign appears, and we’ll know that soon enough. This worries you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes! And it should worry you, too. Everyone’s talking about the chosen one and this sign of yours…”

“It’s not my sign. You know who gave the prophecy,” said Tuaka.

“I do, and I also know that others, who are not so good, will see the sign if it appears, and they will want him dead. Right now, all I want is a healthy baby boy. He can save the world later; can’t he have a few years of innocence and peace first?”

“You’re right, and we don’t yet know if he’s the one, but if he is, there will be danger. I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe; I give you my word.”

Now it was Kieendas’ turn to smile. Her brother was an intelligent and influential man, and his promise meant a great deal to her; it would help. She relaxed and laid back as her thoughts drifted toward Pekal, her husband. He too, was intelligent and resourceful and would do all he could to protect their son, but she had no illusions about the Jareem kings. They had used treachery and deceit to seize control of the government about 270 years ago and had been slowly and carefully expanding their power ever since.

With each generation they had become more bold and ruthless, and the current king made no secret of his animosity toward the old ways, and those who still believed in them. This included the royal line of Ethrim and the priestly line of Mahal, and that put both her husband and brother at the top of the king’s list of people to watch. Though King Jareem Matan openly dismissed the ancient religion and prophecies of Ethrim Nabal, he never-the-less closely monitored the followers of Soaleem, and its leaders, lest the thousand year old prophecy turn out to be true. He would do anything to keep his power, even if it meant killing a baby. Kieenda shuddered at the thought and quickly put it out of her mind. The baby was due within a few days and she was determined that this would be a joyous event.

“Kiee?”

At the sound of Tuaka’s voice she looked up and saw concern in her brother’s eyes; she realized he had been watching her.

He spoke again, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, all is but a drop in eternity.” She used the ancient phrase to indicate that everything will work out for the best, but both knew that she was less than certain.

                                                ---------- . ---------

The two days passed quickly. Kieenda watched as the Mata, the large yellow sun, sank behind the low hills to the west. Turning, she smiled as she saw the full moon and the Matakachil, the small red sun, rising over the eastern mountains. As the new night began Kieenda was feeling a mixture of excitement and fear as she thought, ‘This is more than just a new day and a new month; it is the spring equinox and the beginning of a new year…and the prophesied time for the chosen one to be born.’ Of its own volition her hand went to her pregnant belly even as her head was turning to listen to the sounds of revelry that rose up to meet her. Throughout the capitol city of Kotasol, the celebrations and ceremonies were beginning.

Her heart was filled with concern and her mind struggled to deal with the implications of the impending birth. She wanted to protect their son, give him a normal life. Maybe he would not be the chosen one after all. Perhaps he would grow to simply be a great man, but not The Great Man. This gave her pause, and simultaneously caused both hope and dread to rise within her breast.

Then her thoughts were interrupted as her baby kicked within her womb, but went suddenly still as a powerful contraction gripped her, taking her breath away. She had been having small, occasional contractions for days; this was different! She grabbed a table nearby and held still until it passed, then she went to her sleeping room, calling for Pekal. As if by magic he appeared and helped her to lie down, telling her he would go summon the midwife and then return.

By the time Pekal returned, her water had broken and another, more powerful contraction had followed. Their frequency increased and she became concerned that the baby would arrive before the midwife, who then promptly came allaying her fears. As it turned out, the baby was not in a hurry. For the next five hours, her husband attempted to help his wife, but in reality could do little except encourage her and watch as the midwife worked.

He was surprised at the speed with which his emotions changed from helplessness to anxiety, and then to love and finally excitement, only to have them revert to helplessness again. It was exhausting, and he was not the one having the baby. As he watched her courageous struggle through the pain of labor, the deep love and respect he felt for her increased dramatically.

Finally, the baby was born, their first born, a son! The expert hands of the midwife cut and tied the umbilical cord and dried the baby. She checked him over and declared him healthy and handed him to his mother, who looked with loving eyes at her first child. After a few minutes of soft, adoring words, Kieenda hesitated and looked out the window.

Pekal noticed the motion. He could guess the reason for it, but still asked, “What is it?”

Her earlier thoughts came rushing back. Half hopeful and half concerned Kieenda asked, “I…don’t see the sign, do you?”

He walked out into the courtyard and perused the night sky; it was almost midnight. There was nothing unusual aside from the clear light of the full moon and the soft glow of the red Matakachil. He turned back to her, “looks pretty normal, except for a few fireworks”; the New Year celebrations were about finished.

Then everything changed as a brilliant light spread across the heavens in successive waves of color, moving from a rich purple through red, orange, and golden yellow, and then settled on a glistening white that stretched from horizon to horizon. Pekal whirled around and stared upward in disbelief; Kieenda marveled and felt a knot of fear grow within her belly. Directly overhead a giant new star scintillated, and was illuminating everything as thought it were daytime. They looked at one another and knew their tiny newborn son was indeed the chosen one; he was special, and starting now challenges and opportunities would seek him out. They had much to do if they were to prepare him and keep him safe.     

Pekal spoke softly, as if to himself, “We only have a few days and then we must leave.” With somber eyes he looked at his sweet Kiee, her eyes filled with tears as she nodded her head in agreement.

                                              -------- . --------

Across the city in the magnificent Jareem palace, a few councilors of the king rushed to his private sleeping chamber. “My Lord, you must come quickly, there is something you have to see!”

“This had better be good”, mumbled King Matan as he roused himself from sleep, dressed and followed them to the balcony overlooking the city. As he stepped outside he froze in place, shocked by the light of the star and asked, “What is this?”, knowing the answer even as he spoke.

His councilors shuffled nervously behind him. As they shot quick glances at one another, the senior among them said the fateful words, “The prophecy of Ethrim Nabal is true. This night the chosen one has been born.” Then they were silent, not knowing what to do.

Matan set his jaw, closed his eyes and stood very still. Vivid memories from the distant past flooded over him. He was young again and could see himself standing by the death bed of his father, King Jareem Mata II. He remembered the fragrance of incense as it hung heavy in the room. His father had been burning it for weeks to cover the smell of death, until it had grown stale and seemed to drop down from the curtains and seep out of the bed coverings. The dying king wheezed, reminding Matan of his purpose.

“Father, I am here.”

These long forgotten words echoed through his mind and deep emotions began to rise.

His father’s speech was labored, “You are my only son, born in my later years; and still young. At 19 you will be the youngest Jareem king; the eleventh in the dynasty.”

Matan could see himself stand taller as he responded, “But I am ready. I will be a good king.”

         His father’s eyes narrowed as he appraised his son. Matan squirmed ever so slightly under the intense gaze.

“Hmmm. It will not be enough to be good, my son. You must be strong, bold, and at times ruthless. King Mata the First used these skills to overthrow the judges of Soaleem 240 years ago. I am giving you the Jareem throne, and its legacy. You must be vigilant in its defense or the judges of Soaleem will rise again. Watch for the sign from the prophecy of Nabal. When it occurs you must act quickly and decisively.”

These words had made Matan uneasy. He remembered asking, “Don’t you mean if?”

The old king responded, “No! I meant what I said; WHEN!”

“And what of the great god Sol?”

His father gave a short laugh and then began to cough convulsively. For several long moments he struggled to regain control and finally stopped, and lay there quietly.

“Father?”

His father opened his eyes and weakly smiled. “The first Jareem king created Sol to draw the people away from Soaleem, and control them. Sol is nothing, a fabrication to give our reign legitimacy. It appeals to the peoples pride by claiming to be scientific and logical, and therefore makes them vulnerable to our manipulations.”

The young Matan was now confused; why so much effort against an old, dying religion, unless… He wondered for just a moment and then quickly put the thought out of his mind. The implications were unacceptable.

“But father, the followers of Soaleem are scattered and few. Their influence is small.”

With great effort the old king sat forward and looked hard at his son. “When the sign appears with the boy child, it will give the believers hope. There are few things more powerful than a true believer with a cause. Your must prevent this…or you will have signed the death knell of the Jareem kings.”

Matan remembered trying to comprehend these dying words from his father. Almost as an afterthought he had asked, “How do I stop a prophecy?”

Exhausted, his father fell back against his pillows. He spoke with difficulty.

“Kill the child, save the throne.”

As the memory faded, the power of those last words impressed themselves upon his mind. Looking up at the star, he spoke as if to himself.

“Father, I will not fail you. I will protect the throne.”

Puzzled, his counselors looked at one another, confused by his words.

One spoke, “Your majesty?”

Remembering the men behind him, the king turned to face them. Cold determination filled his voice as he slowly said, “We have much work to do.”





                                                          Chapter 2

                                       Birth, 972 AS Continued

King Jareem Matan was not noted for squeamish indecision, and the niceties of law and life were always secondary to his need for power. This situation would be no exception. Even as he stood on the balcony staring at the brilliant star, he was formulating a plan to end this threat. “Summon all my advisors immediately, and yes I know it’s midnight. Tell them to be in the Council Chamber in one hour, and they’d better come with information and ideas! Do you understand?”

In unison the small group of men answered “Yes”.

“Ah, and bring Gozeen as well.”

“The High Priest, my Lord?” asked the senior councilor.

“Yes, the High Priest of Sol will have much to do with tonight’s decisions.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Once they were gone only the king and Chiee, his private attendant, remained. He trusted only a few men, and Chiee was one of them. Tenu was another; he was the head of the secret Internal Security Force (the ISF for short). The king now sent one to summon the other, “Go, bring Tenu to my private office as quickly as possible. I need to talk to him before the council convenes, and they are not to see him!”

“As you wish”, and Chiee hurried away.

                                                      -------- . --------

The light of the new star flooded Tenu’s bedroom, rousing him from sleep. He knew what this could mean and instinctively started to dress. He thought of his man hidden in the shadows across from Pekal’s house and wondered if this star had appeared in tandem to the anticipated birth. The implications were huge. Only an omnipotent and omniscient God could coordinate such an event over a thousand years. He did not like the idea. He was much more comfortable with a fallible deity like Sol; who could be manipulated to meet the whims of the people and the needs of the king. This had to be dealt with, and it had to be dealt with now. Tenu was certain the king would have a plan and would want him. He left his room and was purposefully moving through the maze of hallways and antechambers toward the private rooms of the king, when he was intercepted by Chiee.

“The king wishes to see you in his private office immediately, and he doesn’t want you seen”, said Chiee quietly.

“Of course, I am on my way.”

Chiee hurried away. Tenu never hurried; he was directed, methodical, meticulous…and dangerous, and he trusted no one, not even Chiee. Such total loyalty made him suspicious. He was careful as he went to the king’s private office, making no sound. He could be practically invisible when he wanted to be. And there were ‘ways’ to move through the palace without being seen; it had been designed for it, and only a very few knew of the hidden rooms and passageways.

                                                        ------- . --------

King Matan had been in his office for only a few minutes when Tenu appeared in the doorway. “Come in. You wasted no time getting here.”

“I knew you would need me, my Lord; I met Chiee on my way here,” said Tenu.

Matan nodded. He appreciated a man as capable and insightful as his head of internal security; he seemed to anticipate everything. Even so, as much as he trusted Tenu, such talents in anyone could be dangerous, and might demand some quiet checking-up-on from time to time. The king motioned for him to sit on the opposite side of the desk.

“You saw the sign”, it was more a statement than question.

“I did”, confirmed Tenu.

“You know what it means”, another statement by Matan.

“Yes. I have been watching Pekal and Kieenda for sometime. My informant has instructions to contact me as soon as the baby is born. In light of the events of this night, I would not be surprised to hear from him before the hour is up.”

“Good,” said Matan, “we need confirmation, and then action will be required to avoid any threat to the stability of the kingdom. I have a plan, and part of it will need to be done in secret.”

Inwardly, Tenu smiled. He knew this was not about the stability of the kingdom; this was about King Matan’s throne, and Tenu had no problem with that. The king had handsomely rewarded him for his service and loyalty, and he wanted to keep it like that. “I am at your service, my Lord. Tell me what you need and it will be done.”

Matan continued, “In three days time we need an incident, and it will involve the great Temple of Sol. There is to be some damage, nothing significant mind you, it only need appear big. We’re after the effect. Also, it must appear to be the work of fanatical followers of Soaleem, and we’ll need some ‘evidence’ to show that it was them who did it, and it needs to be traceable to Tuaka and Pekal. This will serve as our pretext for dealing with this problem.”

“I can do that, and will get back to you as soon as my informant arrives. Then we can talk more about what the incident will be, how it will occur and when. In the meantime, I’ll have both those men watched, along with the mother and son, if there is one”, and with that Tenu was dismissed.

                                                -------- . --------

The council chamber was full when the king entered. The curious talk ceased and all eyes turned and watched as he sat at the head of the room. Gozeen, the High Priest, sat on his right hand. The King came right to the point, “We have a spectacular star lighting up the night sky; what is it?” He wanted to hear their thoughts and then had his own plan to work out, but only a part of it would be shared with the full council; he never shared everything.

With some reservation, the Information Minister spoke first, “Your Majesty, those among the superstitious will see this as the sign of the chosen one foretold by Ethrim Nabal, but that was almost 1,000 years ago. These are modern times and most people no longer believe the old legends. May I suggest an information campaign through radio, newspapers, the schools and fliers to give the scientific explanation for this phenomenon. By so doing we can stop any speculation before it starts.”

The Science Minister spoke next, “This is a super nova, not a sign, and it is not dangerous. Our mathematical models have predicted such a thing and now we have one to study. The scientists at the academy will find this of great interest for some time to come; and, and we will learn a lot from this, and…”, he started to be excited and animated.

King Matan cut in, “Yes, yes, I’m sure we’ll all be excited to hear the results of your research. Right now, getting this information out to the public is imperative to settle any concerns people have. We don’t want panic, and we don’t want to encourage fanatics. If we handle this properly, it will be a footnote in history before the month is out.” Matan turned to the Public Safety Minister, “Though we don’t expect trouble, it is important that you put the police on high alert for a few weeks, and I mean for the whole kingdom. If there is any problem we want to deal quickly and decisively with it. Is that clear?” The Minister shook his head yes.

The king now turned to Gozeen, “It seems it would be appropriate to have some special, extra worship ceremonies at all the Temples of Sol throughout the land, to commemorate this display of Sol’s power. This could serve to focus the faith of the people and distract from any heretical ideas. What do you think?”

Gozeen responded, “I was thinking that very thing, your majesty. It will be done.”

“Good.”

For a while longer other ministers expressed ideas and suggestions, but the king already had what he needed from the council: a disinformation campaign, a religious distraction and a police force ready to respond when his ‘incident’ occurred. They would never know it was his doing. Finally, he dismissed them, commanding that they meet again at 10:00 am to finalize everything. He gave special instructions to the Information and Science ministers that the education campaign was to start that coming afternoon, and it was to be big. They nodded.

As all were leaving, Gozeen hung back; he knew there was more to his being summoned at this unearthly hour than any royal devotion to Sol. As soon as he and Matan were alone he asked, “In light of this great miracle, what more can I do to serve my king?”

The Jareem king smiled at this; Gozeen knew his role and played it well. As for the king, he was no believer. He could still remember his father’s words, and he prided himself on being a pragmatic man.

“Miracles don’t happen anymore and I doubt they ever did, or have you forgotten that the power you display comes from the hidden technology we built into your temples? It impresses the masses, not me. I keep my power by my intellect and cunning, not by any blessing from Sol. I use religion to control the people, and you would do well to remember that.”

Obsequious as ever, Gozeen answered, “As always you are right, my Lord. We best serve the great Sol, and the people, by serving you; and as to those who still believe in miracles, the religion of Soaleem is weak and will soon be dead. Few go to their temples anymore and their leaders are without influence.”

The king responded, “I’m not so sure about that, but I believe I can help Soaleem, and his believers, die a little faster. Would you be interested?”

The High Priest was taken aback. “The traditional Jareem policy of passive ridicule has succeeded well, giving the illusion of religious freedom while sidelining your opponents. If we become more aggressive, might there be undue risk?”

Matan’s features hardened and an edge formed on his words, “Do you doubt my ability, Gozeen?”

Gozeen quickly corrected himself, “Oh no, great king, I did not mean to question you, it is ever my desire to serve the throne. How can I help?” He knew what happened to advisors who aroused the ire of the king; even priests were not immune.

The king’s lips slowly curled into a sneering smile as he said, “This is what I need from you, for the next three days you are to hold special ceremonies about this star, thanking Sol; get the people worked up with religious fervor. On the night of the third day, a mob will attack some of the Temples of Sol in different cities, including this one. They will do some superficial damage, nothing serious. These fanatics will escape but will leave behind evidence implicating both Tuaka and Pekal as the instigators. Justice will demand that I do something, and our news services will fill the people with indignation for this atrocity. After a brief investigation we will have no choice but to arrest and punish Tuaka and Pekal, along with many other Soaleem followers. Magnanimously, I will leave their Temple untouched, but they will have suffered a terminal blow. This star will prove to be a blessing on many levels!”

Gozeen was thunder struck by the audacity of the plan, and its brilliance. If it worked, it could destroy the religion of Soaleem, remove any threat to the Jareem king and permanently elevate the worship of Sol, all in one stroke! At that moment his respect for the king grew immensely. He said with awe, “It will be as you say, your plan is brilliant.”

Tenu watched these proceedings from behind a false panel. After Gozeen was dismissed, he emerged to speak with the king, who was not surprised by his sudden appearance.

“What did you find out?” asked the king as he turned around.

“It is as we suspected. Kieenda gave birth to a son only minutes before the star appeared.”

“I see. Did you hear my plan?”

“I heard everything, my Lord,” said Tenu.

“Good, it will go forward as planned, and the baby’s death will be a fortuitous part of this police action. The people must never know of your part, or mine. They will remain gullible only so long as our deception creates the right perception. We must appear to be concerned about justice, not revenge or gain. Here’s how it will be…” and King Matan laid out each detail.

Tenu clarified a few things and then left the council chamber to arrange everything. The plan really was brilliant. If Tuaka and Pekal were not killed in the attack on the Temple compound, they would be arrested and tried for treason, resulting in certain execution. Either result was satisfactory. The trial would be rigged, he would see to that. As for the baby, his death was to be an ‘unfortunate’ bit of collateral damage, and Tenu’s main job was to make sure it died! Under no circumstance was the baby to survive. He had contacts among the police who were experts at causing such ‘accidents’; Tenu smiled at the thought. Now he had to leave the palace; there was much work to do.

                                                 -------- .---------

Lenths away, on the opposite side of the city, Pekal lay next to Kieenda and their new son. He was trying to get some sleep, but alternating joy and concern kept interrupting it. Their home in the residential part of the Soaleem Temple Compound was comfortable, but unassuming. A myriad of thoughts, plans, people and worries took turns on the stage of his mind. He figured he had a week at the earliest before the king would move against their baby. That left little time to make all the arrangements; still it was enough. Kieenda and their son would leave for a destination far away, hidden from the king; only a few highly trusted friends could know about this, very few.

Kieenda moved next to him, “You’re not sleeping” she said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing” he replied, but he knew that she knew better, “well, there is something. I’m working out the details of your trip to Portakee. Secrecy will be key to your safety, and his. I will stay here as a decoy to cover your escape. No one will know you’re gone until it’s too late to find you, or our son.”

She frowned, “He’s only hours old, can’t we speak of something pleasant? Soon enough reality will demand our attention. I know, what will we call him, you know, so that you can give him a blessing and his name? We can do it in a private ceremony in the morning, but we’ll need a name, a special name.”

“I’ve thought about this a lot. What do you think of Ethrim Pitama, Pitama means ‘the one who saves’. If he fulfills his destiny it will be a good name for a prophet.” He looked at her expectantly.

She was silent for several moments and then agreed, “It’s a good name, let it be done,” and smiled at her husband.

In the morning, he would invite Tuaka and a few others for the blessing. They would have to forgo the usual celebration and Tenth day Feast; there was no time for that. Then he would arrange for Tuaka to secretly take Kiee to Portakee. His worries subsided a little and he drifted off to sleep, something he would not have done if he knew what the king was planning.



                             

                                           Chapter 3

                             Birth, 972 AS Continued

It was the second day after Pitama’s birth and the light of dawn was just touching the horizon, when Pekal woke with a start, his heart pounding in alarm. Soaleem had just given him a dream, more like a warning with instructions. He had heard of this gift but had never experienced it himself, until now. He sat up abruptly and shook Kieenda awake.

She responded reluctantly. She had been up a number of times during the night feeding and changing Pitama, and was tired. With a drowsy voice she asked, “Kal, what is it?”

“Zoel just gave me a dream, a warning. King Matan is planning to attack the Sol Temple tonight, and is going to blame us. He will use it as an excuse to attack the compound to kill Pitama! You must leave for the coast this morning or it’ll be too late.”

“What about you?” she asked with concern, fear growing within her.

“I will stay behind to cover your escape. If they see me here, they’ll think you and Pitama are here also. The ISF are watching the house, you do know that, right?”

It was logical, but she had not thought about it. “How will I leave without being seen, and the baby, he’s a little hard to hide”, her mind was racing.

“There is a way. In two hours Kauchee will be here; and she carries a large bag of cleaning supplies. When a cleaning lady leaves the house several hours later, bag in tow, the spies will think nothing of it, and you’ll walk to the docks and ride on a river boat to the coast. From there you’ll take a larger ship to Portakee. Zoel said Pitama will be safe there. We’ve always planned for Tuaka to travel with you and that will still be the same; it’s just going to be earlier, and a little hurried. I’ll come later when I can.”

She did not want to think about what might happen to Pekal. She knew this was dangerous and was afraid to say it out loud, that there might not be a later, so she spoke of other things. “Let’s see, I can only take what I can wear and there won’t be room for much baby stuff. How will I do it?”

Pekal smiled. “I am going to arrange all that right now. I’ll be back soon with all the details”, and with that he dressed and left.

As he walked down the street his close friends could see that something was bothering him; it showed on his face. He was not one who was good at hiding his emotions. Even so, he put on the best smile he could muster. After all, this was supposed to be a joyous time, and he did not want people to suspect anything, especially the king’s spy. Pitama’s safety depended on it.

Kieenda was not sleepy anymore; situations like this have a way of fixing that. She dressed, cleaned up around the house a little, and looked sadly at their things. She was missing their home already and was not yet even gone.

The next two hours crept by until Kauchee arrived. She was a faithful lady and a good friend, and was thrilled with Pitama. Her children were grown and gone and her husband had passed away some years earlier. Her life now was spent helping others and serving in the Temple of Soaleem. She considered herself blessed to have seen the birth of the chosen one before she died. Kieenda quickly explained the situation and Kauchee was more than glad to help. She prepared clothes for Kieenda that looked just like hers, and emptied her bag and readied it to hold Pitama.

In the meantime, Pekal returned; he had been successful and all was arranged; he laid out the plan. Kieenda would walk out of the compound and down to her aunt’s house. It was near the river. Her aunt was expecting her and was collecting everything she and the baby would need for the trip; including travel bags, clothes, food and some money. She would meet Tuaka and his eight year old son there. They all would change into peasant clothes that would serve as a disguise for the trip. Once she was gone he would warn the others in the compound to prepare for the attack. The first thing would be to evacuate the women and children, but this could not be done until Kieenda and Pitama were gone, or it could bring undue risk to the baby.

Kauchee fussed over Kieenda until she looked every bit the cleaning lady. Pitama was fed, changed and rocked to sleep. It was important that he not wake up, and for this they all prayed fervently to Soaleem. Pekal looked on approvingly, “You two could be twins!”

“Plus a few decades,” said Kauchee with a smile and added, “now for the scarf. Keep this on until you’re at your aunt’s house, and don’t stand straight or look up.” Then she added a few touches of makeup, emphasizing lines around Kieenda’s eyes and mouth to give the appearance of age.

“As much as I hate it, you must go. We’re running out of time.” With that Pekal held Kiee close for a long time, finally releasing her, tears forming in his eyes…and hers.

She gulped hard and with a strained voice said, “I love you!”

She extended her right hand and laid it on his chest over his heart, and closed her eyes. She wanted to remember this moment.

He looked down at her hand and spoke softly, emotion choking his voice. “I love you, too.”

Then he lifted both his hands, placing them on her hand. The beating of his heart thrummed in his ears, and the ache he felt at having her leave was almost painful. He even wondered if she could hear his heart beating. He took one last deep breath and released Kieenda’s hand.

Kieenda opened her eyes and shifted her gaze to Kauchee, thanked her again and gave her a hug. Stepping back she turned and gently picked up the ‘cleaning bag’ with the sleeping baby hidden inside and walked to the door, opened it and hesitated as she looked back.

“Go, it will be alright. Zoel will watch over you”, said Pekal.

Just then Kauchee stepped forward, placing her hand on Kieenda’s arm, “I don’t walk fast. You must walk with a slow, deliberate gate or you’ll draw attention to yourself.”

With that, Kieenda stepped out of the door and slowly walked down the street. No one gave her a second glance, and Pitama slumbered peacefully. Even though she could not look down, she was intensely aware of her sleeping baby, and thanked Zoel for this blessing. Both their lives depended on Pitama’s silence, and she was not disappointed.          

As he tarried, Pekal worked out the details of the next move; it must be timed and executed carefully. As for Kauchee, she busied herself cleaning inside the home; she did not want to be seen outside and alert the ISF men. When Pekal was sure Kiee was safely away he ‘casually’ went about visiting each leader in the compound, informing them of the impending attack, and shared his plan. The women were to take the children out of the compound, a few at a time, and stay with family and friends in other parts of the city. The men were to quietly prepare to defend the Temple and the surrounding houses. Most believed Pekal, but a number of families did not think things were that serious and delayed departure, or chose not to go at all. They knew that things like this had happened before, but those events were buried so far in the past that they did not think they could happen again. This would prove to be a major mistake.



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Gozeen had just finished an especially moving ceremony in the great Temple of Sol when he heard the raucous sounds of a mob approaching the front of the edifice. It was time, and he and the priests had to make it look good. He called some of his acolytes and walked to the grand steps in front of the Temple. The mob of several hundred came chanting denigrating words about Sol and proclaiming Soaleem the true god. Worshippers of Sol were still leaving, but some hung back with the priests. The mob came up the steps and its leaders faced Gozeen’s group, yelling epithets and brandishing placards and tools. The High Priest tried to calm the group but to no avail; they were implacable and became more agitated with each passing minute. Without warning, someone threw a rock and the mob surged forward, pushing past the priests into the Temple proper. The Priests tried in vain to stop them, but were roughly handled with some being hurt. The main sanctuary was vandalized, and then the mob fled, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. The whole incident was over in 20 minutes, though it seemed longer to Gozeen. He looked around with dismay; though he knew it was a contrivance, it was more real than he had anticipated. Thankfully, the great idol of Sol was untouched, but many other structures were damaged, paint had been splashed around and some items of value had been stolen. The king’s men certainly had done their job, now he would do his.

Behind him he heard the police. They were rushing up the steps outside. The gasps of astonishment were loud and a crowd was rapidly gathering, even local news reporters had arrived. Gozeen found the police captain and explained what had happened, as those around him confirmed his words and added occasional tidbits he had left out. He mentioned that this seemed to be the work of Soaleem fanatics, without emphasizing it too much. He did not want to overdo it, the gathering crowd would do that for him, and his restraint would only serve to encourage the growing outrage of the people.

After about 30 minutes, the police had gathered a pile of objects left behind by the mob. As the Captain looked through them, he noticed a number of the placards had the names of the Soaleem Temple leaders written in small script on the back, including the names of Tuaka and Pekal.

At this point a representative of the king showed up, expressing dismay and disgust at what he saw. He said the king wanted this dealt with immediately, that such an outrage would not be tolerated and that religious freedom would be protected. He called for the investigation to go forward quickly and asked that they bring their findings to the Hall of Justice in two hours for a hearing; a panel of three judges would listen and make a ruling.

While this seemed a bit rushed to Gozeen, no one else even raised an eyebrow but acquiesced to the command. As he watched the rushed investigation draw to a close, a hint of guilt touched his conscience. He had a hand in creating this charade, and the realization of where it was going pushed itself forward into his thoughts. He had been suppressing it since the king first shared the plan with him. Innocent people would die, and he was partly responsible. He shook his head and forced the thought back into the dark recesses of his mind. He reassured himself by saying that this was for the greater good and had to happen; but somehow his heart was not convinced.

The time passed quickly and the late hour found the Police Captain, Gozeen, and a growing crowd of assorted public and private figures gathered in the main chamber of the Hall of Justice. In front sat three judges, to the right was the King with the Minister of Justice, and to the left were several government prosecutors responsible to see that all the information and evidence was properly presented and catalogued. The Chief Judge called the proceedings to order and directed the head prosecutor to begin.

For the next hour and a half witnesses were called, evidence reviewed and arguments given; there was no defense offered or questions asked that might have discomfited the case being presented. The obvious discrepancies associated with the whole affair were ignored, including the late hour. This ‘trial’ was rigged to achieve two things, which it did. First, it was to stoke public outrage with emotional diatribes and carefully contrived evidence, and second it was to provide legal grounds for action against the leaders of the Soaleem believers. The proceedings accomplished the first and the three judges did the second. They ruled that the named Soaleem leaders were guilty of inciting to riot, violating religious freedom and destruction of property at the Temple of Sol. The National Police were ordered to act immediately to arrest the guilty parties, even in spite of the late hour. By now it was almost 1:00 am in the morning.



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The sun had only recently set and Pekal was conversing with the men about protecting the Temple, and compound, when word of the attack on the Temple of Sol reached them. This caused alarm among the women who had chosen to remain. Among them were children and babies. Their husbands helped them to quickly grab their little ones and moved to leave, but it was too late. Tenu had anticipated that news of the ‘incident’ at the Sol Temple would cause just such an exodus, and at sunset had closed all streets out of the Soaleem Temple compound. Now, the men and these women with their little ones were trapped. It was obvious to all that they were being set up. Everyone knew what would come next, and anxious foreboding filled most hearts with dread as they waited; and wait they did while the legal charade of the King worked its way to completion. Those tedious hours only served to heighten their growing fear, and it did not help that the airways were filled with sensational reports of the atrocities committed by the so called Soaleem mob. The fact that the reports were false would carry no weight with a gullible public, who had forgotten that true followers of Soaleem never used His sacred name outside of their Temples. When a believer spoke of deity outside the Temple, he would use the title-word “Zoel”, out of respect.

Pekal sat with a few men at a defensive position by the main street into the compound; Kauchee was there as well. The increasing lateness of the hour wore upon many of them, who wondered why it was taking so long for the attack, but a few were at peace, especially Kauchee. She was old, and good; death held no fear for her and she knew her beloved husband waited to receive her. As events unfolded she tried to calm the children and women as best she could.

About 2:30 am, numerous units of the National Police could be seen taking up positions by the main arteries into the compound. The believers of Soaleem were stationed by the houses closer to the Temple. Tenu had a small group of his own ISF men disguised in police uniforms waiting at the rear of the police units to make sure the baby was found and killed, and that Pekal and Tuaka were taken, if they were alive. Other than that it did not much matter to him how the police handled this. After 20 minutes of staging, the head of the operation ordered their forces to advance.

Carrying a white flag, Pekal and two others stepped out from behind their makeshift barricades and advanced toward the oncoming police in hopes of negotiating a peaceful outcome. The police forces halted and the Captain came forward to talk to Pekal, demanding that he and seven other indicted men must surrender themselves for trial and punishment. As a glimmer of hope for a peaceful solution showed itself, Tenu became alarmed; this was not acceptable, he needed a bloody confrontation. He turned and whispered something to one of his men, a trained sniper, who disappeared at a silent run. While the negotiations were proceeding, the sniper carefully worked his way to the side of the police leader, drawing a deadly bead on his heart, and gently squeezed the trigger. The explosion of sound startled everyone and the Police Captain dropped to the ground, dead! Cries of treachery filled the air as bullets erupted from the police guns.

Pekal and his companions stared in horror as the Captain fell, but the rain of bullets shook them into action. They turned and ran. (This ends in the middle of chapter 3...there is much more.)