The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Chapter 7: Esther - Part 2: Behind the Mask

Methos: "I haven't felt guilt since the 11th century."

(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Til Death...')

Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.

As usual, the camp got enlightened by about a dozen fires and whoever was able to searched for a place close to them as the nights out in the desert were as cold as its days were hot. From somewhere behind me, silent laughter and singing was to hear and one of the slave girls danced round the fires with the rhythm of a drum, constantly succeeding in fending off every try the men made to touch her.

The girl was pretty, the kind of woman no man would leave unlaid in a night like this. She knew brilliantly what to do and how to move to inspire every single sense, while she moved light-footed and lissome and while her looks were promising everything and nothing to each of the men watching her. The tingling of little bells accompanied her dance and the scent of jasmine filled the air whenever she wrapped herself in and out of her veils.

Jasmine – the sweet scent brought memories of Cassandra back to my already troubled mind.

After she had taken flight from Kronos and from me, there were no flowers any more within my tent.

No more flowers, no more sweet fruits and not the slightest hint of warmth.

I told myself, that all I ever had believed of having felt for her was nothing but a temporary kind of fancy, owed to the fact that we were both – in different ways – captives of a life none of us was able or willing to change.

At least, that was, what I tried – telling me, that it was this way, just to admit to myself the same moment, that I belied myself...again and again...

Equal, which argument I found, to make myself believe in not having changed since she did escape, it was not enough to convince me.

Equal, which argument I found, to tell me, Cassandra was nothing to me but just another slave, it was not enough to let me forget that it was not the truth and that I did ruefully fail with protecting her.

I tried everything, to get rid of those memories. I shared uncountable nights with uncountable pretty faces, without feeling anything and the aftertaste of all those nights was always stale and bitter. They were neither able to fill the emptiness I felt deep inside, nor were they able to dispel the coldness, which crept into my tent night after night, just to lunge at me as soon as I'd close my eyes.

I felt tired and covered my face with my hands, neither in the mood for watching the sensuous moves of the pretty dancer nor for listening to all those campfire stories the men told each other to kill time or to banish their fear of the darkness.

Not until a pair of warm and tender arms got wrapped around me, I raised my gaze again – just to look straight into the pretty dancer's face.

She was young and beautiful, but it was an artificial beauty as she helped it much more along than just a little. Too much red upon her lips, too much khol round her eyes and too much powder on her cheeks made her otherwise lovely face look like a mask. As sensuous as her dance might have been, my desire to taste this sweet fruit, faded away as soon as I got aware of its artificial shell.

"My handsome master does not want to spend a night like this all alone, doesn't he", she purred and bent down on me.

"Get along with you", I snarled at her and pushed her aside to get up: "I'm not in need for your services tonight..."

"You don't want her, brother...?"

I turned round to face the one who addressed me. It was Silas, who sat opposite to me at the campfire. I had almost forgotten about him. His round face glowed from wine and inward heat and he grinned, when he realized, that it was not my intention to take the girl over to my tent.

I returned his grin with a tired smile and replied: "No, I don't want her..."

The girl stood rooted to the ground, when she got aware, that I, her handsome master, would leave her to my not so handsome brother. A mix of disappointment, affright and horror got mirrored upon her face, when Silas asked: "You don't mind then when I take her tonight...?"

"No", I interrupted him: "I don't care and you know well enough, it's like always: Everything in equal share...even more in a night like this..."

I could just assume, if he got the sarcasm hidden within my words, but it was much more probable, that he missed it, as he was obviously much more interested in the little dancer, than in getting me right. He grasped her by her wrist and dragged her with him, but before he pushed her into his tent, he shot me another grin and asked me in a half curious, half caring tone, eyebrows cocked: "Going to sleep?"

I shook my head and granted him an honest smile: "Time for me to spend some time alone...but you shouldn't let your lovely desert flower wait..."

With it, I turned on my heels and left the camp.

My steps led me out into the desert – far enough, that no one would dare to follow me and close enough for not to lose sight of the dancing lights the fires caused.

Silence and darkness wrapped me in. The deep black cape of a lonely night within the desert, just adorned with thousands and thousands of stars.

If not used to it, utter silence is able to drive a man insane, when his own heartbeat and the noise of his blood running through his veins are starting to fool his overwrought senses. To those, who are used to it, utter silence can turn into a well hidden shelter.

To me, the silence of a desert-night was welcomed company as it provided me that rare gift of staying on my own for some short but well-enjoyed moments. It was my only chance to surrender to my thoughts, to my memories and to all the doubts troubling me.

Doubts!

Since we had assaulted the oasis, a couple of months did pass by, but to me it felt like an eternity and what really troubled me, was, that ever since I felt more and more in doubt with everything I did. I knew, I failed with doing the right thing, when I revealed to Kronos the most effective way to raid the place and I tended to believe, that it was no contingency, which led me back to the same spot, where I suffered the same, back within a slowly blurring past, which I used to do to others now.

I was barely able to remember, if I did ever before long for those bygone times as desperately as I did tonight, those times, before the Egyptian mercenaries sought us out, and for the first time ever I dared to ask myself if these memories were actually real.

What, if all this was just wishful thinking? Something I kept hidden deep inside my innermost? Was it true? Did those times filled with love, trust and fondness really exist? Or were they just imagination, an illusion I just wanted to believe in that desperately to benumb my conscience? To make myself believe in still being able to feel?

Wasn't it much more probable, that my feelings drowned in blood already many years ago?

And if it would be like that, why would I feel something like – guilt...?

When I returned to the camp, everything around the place had calmed down.

Whoever might have been still awake at this hour would surely indulge their passion and so I hurried over towards my tent and sneaked in without even getting noticed.

I had a look around and breathed a sigh in relief:

Things were still as I had left them. Beside a brazier spending some comforting warmth, just two small oil lamps spent a little light. I walked over to my bed and smiled at the sight of the slender figure who was fast asleep and curled up under the blankets.

So far, neither Kronos nor Silas or Caspian had asked questions about who the girl was, I brought along after we had left the oasis. Most probably, they were convinced, I would make Esther my new slave and I had not in mind to prove these rumours to be wrong.

However, I was very well aware of what would happen to her, if Kronos would ever come to know that she was more than just a slave to me.

I knew, as little as I had been able to protect Cassandra, as little would I be able to protect Esther and while Cassandra at least owned the vantage of having been immortal, Esther would not stand a chance: If Kronos would ever come to know what she meant to me, she would die.

A mortal!

As long as I rode with Kronos, Silas and Caspian, I never really cared about what happened to all those, we spared from death. If we spared them or not, sooner or later they'd die anyway. Each of them was replaceable and none of them really had a meaning. Not to one of us, who had outlived centuries or even millennia.

I didn't know back then what getting closer with mortals could present me with, what they possibly could teach me and what I definitely would regret to find out about who I really was.

I didn't know back then, but Esther was meant to be one of them. Of course, she was not the first mortal woman I had fallen in love with, but, as I came to understand much later, she was possibly one of the most important.

The beautiful daughter of the nomads did recover quickly from her wounds, but I had no idea, how or why this went the way it went. If asked about the how and why, she'd only give me a smile as answer and she'd continue to pretend to be my slave whenever I asked her to do so. She seemed to understand instinctively that asking this favour of her was essential if she wanted to stay alive. Especially if Kronos was around.

Other than most of the women I had enjoyed over the bygone centuries, Esther was no slave. She stayed with me because it was her own decision and if she'd have asked me to let her go, I'd never have dared to hold her back. She wasn't afraid of me and instead of trying to avoid me, she'd openly confront me if I did what she'd deem stupid.

I'd have to lie if I'd say I did not desire her, but taking her by force would never have been an option. Too much did I long for her to invite me to spend the night with her. That much that I'd rather sleep in front of my bed as long as she was fast asleep than making a try to sneak under the blankets and take the risk of waking her up.

Esther was different in any meaning of the word and even though I didn't yet understand what impact it was she had on me, I still felt that she caused me to change, step by step, day by day.

I had been able to save her and it still surprised me, because I had proved to myself that I was still able to do something different but causing dread and fright while sitting on the back of a horse, wearing a terrible mask and swinging my sword...

Tonight, things were different...

Tried not to wake Esther up, I threw my cape off, slipped out of my clothes and crawled under the blankets by her side. I wrapped an arm round her tender body, buried my head within the cushions and had no other wish but to sleep, but as tired as I was, sleep had not in mind to join me...

Somewhen in the middle of the night, I fell into a fitful doze and within the same moment the dreams kept coming. Places and scenes showed up in front of my inner eye, deeds, I had committed, things, I had failed to do. Images of which I always thought, they were of no meaning to me any more, images of which I thought, I had already forgotten all the pain, they caused me.

The look into a pair of soft dark eyes filled with panic and agony, when a single blow of a sword first hit me and when the second wiped out the bright light and the love these eyes kept for me. The painful moment, when I returned to life, when I desperately tried to bring her back as well, when I had to realize, that she had cried those tears still wetting her broken eyes for me and not because she had begged for mercy. I saw myself lying on my knees by her side, cursing my immortality, cursing myself for not having been able to save her, crying until I had no tears left...

This entanglement of images and dreams kept me within its claws until a gentle touch woke me up and brought me back.

Rested on her elbow, it was Esther, who bent over me. She brushed some strands of hair away from my face and from my sweaty brow.

"It was a dream", she whispered and then I felt her breathe a gentle kiss upon my temple: "It was just a dream."

Still not fully aware, what did happen to me while having been asleep, I didn't give her a reply. I didn't want to talk, but I felt her gaze still resting on me and soon after I heard her ask: "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing it?"

Confused and astonished I asked: "What do you mean?"

Esther hesitated, then she beheld me and said frankly: "Why do you hide your pretty face behind such a terrible mask?"

"What do you think why I do so?" My answer sounded harsh, because I wasn't willing to answer her question. This mask was kind of a barrier, separating the world of all those we assaulted from mine. I had no intention to pay them a visit within their camps or villages to offer them my friendship. It was all about power and the unique feeling of being able to do to those poor devils lying on their knees in front of me whatever I wanted to. It was my decision, if they would stay alive or if they would die and – of course – I loved the expression shown upon their faces, when I lifted the mask, the horror mirrored within their eyes, when they came to know that it was not a demon, who caused their death.

Esther wasn't in the mood to give in. She ignored my latest reply and said: "When you were born, it definitely wasn't on the back of a horse and much less as an incarnation of Death..."

"No! You're right! I suppose, it was rather the back of a camel..."

Despite the fact that my words still sounded a bit strained, she let out a laugh. Neither a forced one nor an artificial one. Her laugh was warm, heartfelt and true and all she said was: "So you're also a child of nomads. Just like me..." From one moment to another, she got stern again: "I always loved this life. Never forced to stay in one place, free to go wherever I wanted to. This freedom was all I ever needed. No belongings, no gold, no treasure. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? You love your freedom as well, am I right? What else could be the reason for you to still stay here?" She sat up and I felt her gentle fingers slipping over my lips: "You told me you once loved the place, where you found me, where you and your brothers assaulted my tribe. If it's true, if you really loved it, why did you destroy it?"

I grabbed her with her hand and kept hold of it with mine: "If you know, who I am, if you know, what I am, why aren't you able to guess, why I am what I am. Come, lovely daughter of the Bedou, make a guess! I'm sure, you have an answer for me!"

"Maybe." Esther kept silent for a while, until she bent over me and let her fingers caress my cheeks, my temple and my brow: "Maybe not." She paused as if she thought about something, then she whispered: "Methos, listen to me attentively. I will never be able to forgive, what you did to all those, you came across since you're the one you're now. I will never be able to forgive, what you did to my tribe, but I can forgive, what you did to me..."

Before I was able to give her a reply, she covered my lips with hers and as before, when first we met within the caverns of the oasis, she took my hand and led it to her meanwhile well healed wounds. She broke the kiss and remarked: "It wasn't your sword which caused them..."

The last hint of anger vanished into thin air and Esther had no idea how much on fire I was within this moment...or did she?

I wrapped my arms round her tender body, dragged her down on me and responded: "Esther, I've no doubt that I will relish whatever you have in mind to cause me pleasure with, but you should know that I do not expect this from you. You're neither my prisoner nor my slave."

"I know", she whispered close to my ear: "But if I tell you, that it is my free will to cause you every kind of pleasure you long for?"

A long missed warmth like I hadn't felt it for half an eternity suddenly spread within my innermost, when I finally got her words, when this lovely girl started to seduce me and when her lips and her fingertips caressed every single spot of my skin.

Her gentle kisses and touches made all my senses well over from longing, from lust and from desire and I was hardly able to bare it any longer.

"How can you be willing to cause me pleasure, although you're in the know about what I really am?" I buried my hands within her hair and forced her to lock eyes with mine.

"Because, there is something you forgot about, when you decided to hide your face from the world..."

"What would this be?"

Esther's gaze never let go of mine when she answered: "Your eyes. This baleful mask may be able to hide your face, but it's not able to hide your eyes. And if it's true that our own self gets mirrored within our eyes, there is something different hidden underneath all that cold, that indifference and that bloodthirstiness you try to belie yourself with."

She kissed me again and I felt her chilled skin close to mine, felt her lips upon mine and how they parted willingly to grant me entrance and felt her pressing her body as close to mine as possible. That close that she couldn't miss the condition I meanwhile found myself within.

I desired her so much, longed for her, longed for something of what I nearly had forgotten about how satisfying, how sating and how deep it could be. The only wish I had, was to feel her as close and as deep as I would be able to...

There was no fear within Esther's eyes, when I looked at her, but there was the same longing, the same desire and the same wish to feel me...

Esther had fallen asleep by my side after we had shared a satisfying night of love and desire. Her long black stands were spread all over the cushions, her lips, her cheeks and her skin were reddened from countless kisses, her right rested on my shoulder and her left was buried under her head.

I wasn't able to sleep, too sweet was the memory of her hoarse voice close to my ear sighing my name in pure ecstasy and not only once.

But, alas, it would have been a lie, if I would have claimed, that I did not sigh her name as well. I did. And not only once...

The feeling of getting desired was the same sweet and painful and I got aware, that I was still alive – equal, which memories got washed up to the surface within this moment. As long as I started to remember what it really was I missed, who I once had been and what I had become.

I knew, my long-lost love would never have wanted me to seek revenge. She always would just have wanted me – Methos.

No one else, not the one who'd become Death on a horse, not the one who'd cause the death of thousands...

The awareness of what I had become, that I had betrayed everything, I once had loved, that I had nearly forgotten about everything having had a meaning to me, felt painful in such a way, that I feared, I would not be able to suffer it any more.

Then, for the first time after more than a thousand years I felt tears running down my cheeks...