.oOo.
In the heart of the night, the Goddess had shed her tears of joy on the plain. Her faithful people had found hope. Volutes of fig and tamarind scents rose from the moist earth, in the rays of dawn.
The Caïd had summoned the rank and file of his stronghold - barely a dozen warriors, draped in their camel hair burnouses, all too old or too young, but armed like lords, and who looked great, devotedly united around the sacred spring.
When the moon pointed its thin crescent above the mountains, the men saluted the augury and saddled up, before the golden day chased away the freshness of the night.
.oOo.
The line of exhausted horsemen walked slowly in the oppressive heat, climbing along the red erg that overlooked the river. The stronghold of Sûk Abarrim, headquarters of the Gondorian protectorate for this southern region, commanded the crossroads of three important trade routes. The delights of the city, the coolness of the shady terraces, the gardens overlooking the Harnen estuary, all the wonders of the souk, were paid for by an exhausting climb, for horses and riders, in a cloud of red dust, that penetrated inside the clothes, mouth and eyes.
At last the Caïd's troop reached the great gate. The Gondorian guard, whose heavy mails and black surcoat contrasted with the light bedouin robes, scrutinized the comings and goings, and saluted them soberly. As custom dictated, Hadhar left his escort in the lower town, to take care of their horses and quench their thirst with hot tea. His rank allowed him to ride in the narrow streets, but Hadhar liked to take his time, solicited from all sides by the luxury stalls.
Draped in his festive mantle, the Caïd walked up to the citadel, proud and serious as on pilgrimage. The Gondorian chamberlain received him with ceremony, telling him that his visit was expected and appointing him with an audience with the governor the same day, just after the nap.
Hadhar came out, relieved by the simplicity of these proceedings, against which the Uncle had warned him, and, to be honest, rather flattered to be treated with such respect. The Gondorians might not be so bad, after all.
The Caïd roamed the upper city, his mood lenient for passers-by and his purse generous for beggars. He did his devotions at the Temple of the Three Sisters, where he granted a magnificent offering. He strolled a little to be seen, ordered sweets, lingered on the inn's terrace, enjoying innocently the rumor that was spreading: "This is Hadhar nen Hakhim! The Assadhini have returned to grace! He came to pronounce his homage! "
The Caïd cleaned out the embroiderers and tanners, without much bargaining, bought precious wood chests for his wife, a mother-of-pearl vial for his Mother, scent-waters for his sisters, mounted magnifiers for his Uncle, colorful dolls for the village children, horseman boots for his young nephews, multicolored silks and silvered velvet. For his eldest, who would soon be climbing with him the Tell of the Goddess, he acquired at a price of gold, a ceremonial saddle, worthy of the King of Gondor himself!
And the merchants praised him!
And the Gondorians moved aside to let him pass, amazed by such magnificence!
And the city girls, who wandered about the market, glanced with admiration at this prodigal chief, who had restored the dignity of his lineage!
Ah! Life reserved some good moments, thanks to the Goddess!
.oOo.
Radiant and refreshed, Hadhar came out of the sacred baths, where he had gone to purify himself before the hearing, when he met his old enemy, Khayin-Agha, chief of the Gum-zug tribe, who was coming out of the governor's palace.
The Caïd stopped, ready to fight! The Goddess was his witness, this rascal did not deserve to live! He had refused the Emir's call to wage war on Gondor! Then the renegade had taken advantage of his conquered neighbors's weakness, by appropriating several of their caravans! Hadhar had found his own goods, sold in the souks, by some henchmen of this snake! But the Caïd controlled himself: here, on the citadel esplanade, with so many guards, the day of his homage, just after his purification, he could not claim revenge!
His rival, who had recognized him, passed near him quietly, even giving him a smile - a sly smile, a malicious grimace, the evil eye!
The lustral water did not temper the unfortunate Caïd's mood, and he was introduced into the governor's office, while trembling with indignation !
.oOo.
The official received him with the unctuous courtesy of some diplomat. Hadhar answered to the salute, like his Uncle had taught him, but the interview immediately took a worrying turn. Without even sharing the usual news, nor saying anything about the homage, the governor launched into a grandiloquent and worrying speech:
- Disruption had erupted in the hills, Gondor had frozen the process of hostages restitution. But these regrettable circumstances affected in no way the King's esteem for the Assadhini. Besides, Gondor needed the Caïd's support in his fight against the rebels in the Mountains. Besides, there was no talk about any open rebellion, but only several tribe's agitation, no more than a thousand fires, etc.
The Caïd was struggling to understand, receiving the administrative verbiage of the official, as from a great distance, like a nightmare repeating the insidious threat of some secret fears.
Seeing the worried face of the Caïd, whose dignified bearing could no longer contain, the governor finally interrupted the flow of his strategic considerations, asking his host what he "thought of all this".
With a timid emphasis, the Caïd handed him the letter, like an all-powerful relic, asking if the King's charter would be honored.
The governor, looking grave, took the parchment and after only a few lines, turned pale:
- "But, my friend, this document is not a charter of diplomatic recognition! Admittedly, the letter paper comes from Osgiliath's Chancery, but it is a simple mail, which in no case emanates from the King! What a terrible mistake! So you came here, convinced that we were going to take the oath and that your son was going to be released? Believe I'm sorry for this misunderstanding! It is absolutely impossible for the moment!"
Finally the Caïd understood.
He had a violent jolt, his copper face whitened, his eyes blazed, while his hand, the vengeful hand of a wounded soul, the steel grip of the scorned just, was closing on the guard of his sword. He imagined himself beheading this puppet with his blade. He figured himself joining the rebels in the mountains, falling down on the isolated garrisons, rallying the tribes, punishing Khayin-Agha the felon... But also, he saw himself losing his son, executed like a dog, far from his land...
Hadhar controlled himself. This official had nothing to do with it. Ashamed of his family's mistake, overwhelmed and exhausted, he lowered his head, and silently contemplated the letter, a derisory instrument of so cruel a disappointment.
The governor was perfect. He did not realize he had come so close to death! Understanding, he tried awkwardly to give some hope to his host:
- "I am convinced that the liberation is not very far! For the moment it is imperative to show great firmness towards the rebels who plunder the caravans, I have no choice! But the peace process will resume! I vouch that as soon as the troubles end, a gesture will be made! ..."
Full of good will, he tried to hold back the Caïd by comforting him:
- Let's talk about all this around a good tea, in my apartments! My wife insists that you come and see your daughter, whom we have invited!
Or :
- Jiradia, I must tell you, is a true pearl of the South! Imagine that my wife swears by her alone! Not only is she the best student in the houses of healing, but she has put herself in the lead of...
Nothing helped. Disheartened, the Caïd saluted sadly and went away.
.oOo.
Hadhar wandered through the alleys, alone, reclusive in his despair, like a sleepwalker. In front of his lost and haggard look, passers-by strayed, staring at him in astonishment. He thought he heard the city girls whispering behind him:
- "It's Hadhar nen Hakhim! The Assadhini are twice cursed! His homage was refused! "
The Gondorians seemed to sneer, and the merchants to look down on him. Even the beggars shied away from him! The poor Caïd, ashamed by his mistake, cursed his naivety. The ghost of disgrace winced before his veiled eyes:
How was he going to announce these news to his wife? Could he present himself before the Uncle, and reproach his unfortunate help to the old man? What would his braves say, waiting for him at the gate, their breasts swollen with pride? Would he get the courage to tell the tribe's women that their husbands would still be held as prisoners by the enemy? He had rekindled hope and would stifle it! The future of the tribe, deprived of its arms and defenders, seemed very uncertain to him. The mortified Caï saw himself as the assassin of hope and the disgrace of his charge.
From the top of the terraces, he felt only bitterness, in front of the grandiose panorama of the bay, shimmering blue gem, set with emerald scrubland and red cliffs. Joining the Goddess's bosom would now seem so sweet to him...
- « Father ! »
The anguished roar pulled him from his reverie. Hadhar came back to himself, leaning dangerously on the balustrade, as if he wanted to kiss the azure horizon. His daughter, her face upset, strongly pulled him backwards.
Her stormy black eyes softened as they crossed the Caïd's defeated gaze. She forced him back to sit under an umbrella pine. Then the father told their disgrace to his daughter, his deceived hopes, showing the cursed letter as evidence.
The young woman leaned over and gave a cry of joyful surprise:
- "But this is Khandar writing you! "
She scanned the long missive in one stroke, under the bewildered and impatient look of her father.
Then she had to read again for him, thoroughly, with ceremony and marking all the breaks, the letter of this brother held hostage for so long, the news that one no longer hoped, for waiting for them for so long.
Khandar said he was cured of all his battle wounds. He gave the names of the tribesmen, those who had fallen, and those who had survived the atrocious butchery and accompanied him in his exile. He described his daily life, the long wait he deceived by learning the customs of their victors. Now he knew enough of their writing to send this letter to them, because the Gondorian chancery did not allow the missives in any other language, it could not control.
Slowly, line by line, the sister and father reclaimed this brother and son through his prose. Without losing the smallest allusion, the slightest of his gestures, they both absorbed images of the story, which weaved for them the life frame of the absent. Often, Jiradia affectionately commented on her brother's personality, recognized through his lines. As for the father, he constantly interrupted the reading, had start again some paragraph back, to make sure he had understood, to pick up a detail or interpret an expression. He exclaimed loudly, feeling indignant at one word or so proud at another.
- ... then, Khandar says the Gondorians call him...
- May the Goddess protect us! exclaimed the father, his lips clenched. They want him to forget his name! Already he has learned to write their language!
The girl stroked her father with a reassuring look and continued, with a slight shade of reproach in her voice:
- Your son Khandar nen Hadhar, who would never forget his lineage, has earned from the Gondorians the nickname "Cand-harnen". He says that, in their language, it means "the brave of the South River," as a tribute to his courage while fighting and enduring heavy injuries.
- Does he suffer a lot from his injuries?
- Khandar has already mentioned it above! And here he says that in the borj where he spends his nights, he can freely go to the baths! He is completely cured and he is well treated, like all our men!
Both of them long indulged with that distant, yet almost palpable presence, reconnecting with the missing, by the magic of words.
Finally, it was time to return. After re-reading three times and weighing all the hidden meanings of all the lines, the daughter and the father joined the escort, who was patiently waiting at the door of the lower town.
.oOo.
To be continued…
.oOo.
NOTES