The hostage from Harad

.oOo.

At the sign of the Drunken Goose…

The sea captain returns each summer. This year, he has made a little visit north of Tharbad, with his load of spices. Our « Old Salt » is a clever fellow. He has unpacked some of his chests. And the fragrances and the colors alone, have the assistance dream of distant and exotic lands.

To the housewives, who complain about the raising prices, he replies that he brings the sun on their plates for the whole year! And that's priceless, Sun!

The Captain did business indeed.

But this time, he was trapped by the late summer storms. He's sadly looking at the rain on the countryside around Thalion, wondering when he'll be able to leave.

So, in order to pass the time, he tells these pedestrians - who, as good old peasants, are never satisfied with the weather - a very sunny story of his.

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Scene 1: Visit to the Emir.

The sun flooded with brightness the large immaculate patio, encircled by stone lace, which ran from one column to the other. The heavy oaken and studded door, slowly closed behind the visitor, who was shaking his tunic to wipe off the dust of the journey.

In the center of the hot marble walkways, sat a dome of azure faience. Beneath its shadow, a fountain was babbling, supported by a petrified bestiary. The visitor came there to refresh himself and perform his devotions to the Goddess. He gave a few drops to the winds' spirits, throwing them with his left hand at the four cardinal points, with his ritual blessing.

A servant handed him a white cloth and the visitor finished his ablutions. He was silently led through sumptuous gardens, the Goddess embalmed with her breath of jasmine.

When he crossed the threshold of the apartments, carved into solid rock, the cone of heat vanished from the weary shoulders of the visitor, like a cloak removed. Carved invocations, greetings, wishes of good fortune to the pilgrim, snaked along the walls of the vestibule.

The arches of the salon, ochre and low, which recalled the Bedouin's tent, were dotted with dozens of small suspended oil lamps. In the soft twilight, Emir Rais-el-Redjeb rested on his bed of justice, under a canopy of rich stuffs. Full of venison, puffed up with sweets and riches, the landlord ruled over a commercial empire stretching from Khand to Bozisha-Dar. Around him, obsequious and attentive, buzzed the hive of his advisers, secretaries and servants.

The old Emir raised his eyes from the parchments, which were submitted to his august signature, in order to observe the visitor waiting in the antechamber, his great sword tinkling at each of his coming and going. His hands, crossed in his back as a sign of deference, moved nervously; his noble face betrayed a restrained preoccupation.

Raising his formidable mass, Rais-el-Redjeb left his bed and came to meet the visitor, exclaiming:

- Hadhar nen Hakhim, Caid of the Assadhini! May the Goddess pour out on your pastures! Welcome to my humble home!

The visitor, moved by the courteous and warm welcome of the Emir, answered with blooming thanks.

- The journey from your land must have been trying, even for a rider like you! Rais-el-Redjeb said, already out of breath with his physical effort.

The Emir led his visitor into an alcove carpeted with ancient mosaics and slammed twice in his hands. Host and guest settled down on low cushions, while a flurry of salty snacks and sweets piled up in front of them, on a huge copper tray.

Soon the mint tea was poured in ritual cascade, and the two men were able to exchange the news, at length - the birth of the stallion, the hunting of the herd-decimating beast, the Uncle's disease, the care of the orange trees, the nephews' escapades, the price of the olives, the teeth of the youngest, the precious bushels delivery... - all those minor worries and humble joys that make up the days in this southern land.

The old man watched the Caïd from under his half-closed eyelids. He knew him well. He had seen him grow up, reach manhood, perpetuate his lineage and bring up his children with dignity. To send away his eldest son, to entrust to him the finest of their cavalry, in a distant war against the kingdom of Gondor, had been for Caïd Hadhar an immense pride and a terrible renunciation. The news of the defeat had struck him as lightning. Broken, he had accepted the dishonor of begging for some news and the conqueror's leniency for his son. Rais-el-Redjeb, as his liege-lord, had helped him there. But after the armistice, the officers had been held hostage by the Gondorians, who released them only slowly. Hadhar's son had not returned.

- "My friend," said the old man, "I can read on your face, the pain that is clasping your heart! News reached me. My caravans confirm that the hostages are treated with dignity. The nephew of my third daughter's nurse came back from captivity and he swore by the veil of the Goddess - blessed be her rose fingers! - your son is fine! And he is not alone! Those of his riders who have survived, vowed to stay with him in his captivity!"

Out of gratitude, Hadhar kissed the Raïs' hand, but his face remained uneasy. He leaned towards his suzerain, almost whispering:

- "But... it is said that the Gondorians return them after casting a spell on them!"

The fat old man sharply seized his lustral phial and spread the scent water all around them, to chase away the evil eye:

- "May the desert wind mislead the evil spirits! Your son is a brave man, like his father! He knows where his duty is, fear nothing for his integrity!"

- "The Goddess - blessed be her tears! - will give you these praises a hundredfold, O Rais-el-Redjeb! But when shall I see him again? When will our victors return him to me? Have I not respected the treaty's obligations? Did I not give free passage to the caravans and fight the mountains rebels?"

- "Your word is as faithful as the sun above the desert! Your tribe has kept the peace, as I had asked. And this policy is good: many of ours have been returned to their families, you know it!"

- "But then, O Well of Wisdom, why am I the last to be deprived of my son and warriors? Shall I have time to accomplish with him, our pilgrimage to the Tell of the Goddess - praised be her light!"

- "Come on my friend! Hope is the reward of patience! Your son is a dreaded captain, that's why he'll be the last to be released... But maybe your daughter has got other news?"

The Caid eluded with a vague gesture. His daughter was a strong head! He had to give in when she decided to study medicine at Sûk Abarrim's hospital, in the capital of the Gondorian protectorate. From his point of view, her charge was nothing more than a disguised hostage status. His Jiradia, clever and proud, even she, could be won over to the lies of the Gondorians! When you learn the language of an enemy, his mind creeps into yours, he thought. For this straightforward but simple soul, fraternizing cast a shadow, embracing the conqueror's culture was a defilement.

- "I'm worried about her, O Rais-el-Redjeb! If my son does not return, if I remain the last reprobate among your liege-men, how will I find a husband worthy of my daughter, the apple of my eyes? Who will accept the sole fruit of a disgraced lineage, of a leaderless clan after me?"

The Emir glanced sharply at his vassal - so that was the brave's intimate fear... Sorry for his host's moody mind, he had tea served up and he made a plate of cupcakes for his guest. Then he took some sweets and allowed himself a few dilatory mouthfuls, with a collected air:

- "Come on, my friend, calm down: nothing is lost yet! As long as we respect the treaty, the peace process may continue. You will see your son again!" said Rais-el-Redjeb with a knowing air. "The Goddess will provide it!"

Hadhar scanned the round face of his suzerain. The wise man's conviction was worth prophecy, it was said...

- "One day or another, you too will receive your charter of diplomatic recognition from the King of the Gondorians. Then, with your heir returned by your side, you will pay homage and your tribe will be fully recognized as a trading partner, protected both on the lands of Gondor, and on our fiefs on this side of the river."

During his speech, Rais-el-Redjeb quibbled with sweets, watching on his host's face, the signs of a tenuous hope. The Caïd respected the Emir, who never failed his word, and whose prudence was proverbial. Hadhar wanted so much to believe in the return of his son... but the wait was so long, and so many rumours ran about the Gondorians...

The chime rang in the fountain courtyard, calling for devotions.

- "Sooner or later, we will talk about the future again, if the Goddess grants us life!" concluded the Emir.

Referring to the purifying virtues of the sacred spring, the two men stood up and walked in concert towards the glittering dome of aquamarine, the warrior's alert footstep supporting the old man's heavy gait.

.oOo.

To be continued…

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NOTES