.oOo.
The hour when the holy palms of the Goddess spread her dew on the world, is also the awakening of the brave. The Caïd rose at dawn, made his ablutions, fell into deep devotions, and clad his finest tunic. Certainly, he was a pilgrim to a foreign land, who sought redemption for his evil deeds. But a lord, far from his land, must honor his people. He was going to present himself before the King of Gondor, it was important not to humble himself.
Hadhar went down the street. Already the mist rising from the river was dissipating, as the sun was climbing over the mountains barring the east. The Caïd roamed the pavement, down to the banks. He had been told the royal palace stood on one of the two large islands, in the middle of the river.
When he reached the bank, Hadhar saw it upstream. He had not noticed his imposing silhouette while passing the bridge the night before: an immense dome, as high as the Tell of the Goddess, as large as the whole Assadhini village, surpassed all the roofs of the city. Its marbles rose in elegant layers alternating gray and white, punctuated by blue colonnades. At its summit was a room surrounded by large windows, crowned with an ultimate dome. It was there, they said in Osgiliath, that the monarch seated, when he questioned the sky and the future to govern his kingdom wisely and guide his armies to victory.1 The golden mast bore the King's banner waving in the wind that swept the valley of the Anduin.
- The King is at home! Rejoiced the Caïd.
He had been told: in the absence of the sovereign, the pennant of the steward was hoisted on the dome.
Hadhar, walking up the left bank, counted five bridges before the palace! They rivalled with architectural feats, and the carts traffic on two of them was organized one way, something unheard of in the Harnen region. Early this morning, the wharves were peopled with laborers, who supplied stalls or took their service. Boatmen encouraged their great horses, that hauled barges up the river, while their comrades aboard guided the boat with long poles.
A little farther on stood a building covered with earthenware gleaming in the morning, guarded by soldiers and women clad with gray frocks. On the crowded docks, some of them accosted the passers-by, appealing to their generosity, in the name of the Hospital of the Followers of Nienna. Poor people gathered there, in tidy lines, to sit in front of the open doors of the hospital, where a meal was set up for them. The disinherited came to beg their breakfast.
Nowhere did wealth and power go without their companions, destitution and misery, the Caïd thought. He made a generous offering, happy to find there a rite that reminded him of one of the three faces of the Goddess. The Nienna's follower thanked him with a chaste smile, gratifying him with an enigmatic "the King will be grateful to you!"
And the Caïd found that was boding well.
.oOo.
He hurried to the palace.
When he took the bridge to get to the large island, Hadhar had to slow down, because the morning crowd was already dense. The palace walls raised a little way back from the road that crossed the end of the island and spanned the western arm of the river.
Some guards patrolled the square or regulated the traffic of cars, riders and pedestrians, on both bridges and at the gate. They were very tall, gray-eyed, and wore winged helmets made of a strange silver, that shone intensely but like veiled by a mist. 2 Their black livery was adorned with the white tree and the stars of Elendil, on mails forged with the same metal.
The motley crowd advanced on the pavement of the square, between the large towers framing the gate, and a fort that defended the southern extremity of the island. Many people crowded there: servants and chamberlains taking up their duties, the provost guilds of craftsmen begging for exemptions for their corporation, colorful embassies from neighboring countries, but also the slew of courtiers in search for recognition, masses of unemployed noblemen and battalions of rowdy students.
As for him, Hadhar, in his provincial naivety, saw there a cohort of rich, learned, civil or military characters, infallible cogs of the Gondorian power, who had come to bring back to the King, the fruits of their faithful and incessant labor.
The Caïd felt very small, in the middle of this huge crowd of quality people.
As a worthy and patient pilgrim, he took his place in the line, giving it to whoever seemed older or more eminent, to the women who smiled at him modestly, or even to anyone who asked him politely.
And it lasted all day long. Hadhar interrupted his silent observation only to mentally make his prayers to the Goddess. In the evening, the unfortunate man had made little progress in the impatient queue when the great gate closed. Only the small side doors were left open, from which came the holders of laissez-passer.
As the brazen trumpets sounded the closing of the portal of his hope, Hadhar sighed sadly. He was hungry, he had pain in his back and legs from trampling all day - him, a Harnen rider! - and he had not seen the King ...
.oOo.
The caïd, supported by the thought of his son, held hostage, imprisoned somewhere in one of the forts of the great city, did not lose courage. He needed an atonement to his crime...
The next day he got up an hour earlier, and was much more parsimonious towards the seat-snowers.
He narrowly failed to get in.
The next day, exhausted, he was awakened in the middle of the night, swiftly said his prayers and ran to the palace.
He was the first!
But time was passing, the sun rose through the mist, far behind the mountains, no queue formed behind him, and the great door remained closed.
Timidly, the Caïd approached the gleaming guards, who stared at passers-by with an air of indifference, in order to inform himself.
He was told, with a haughty watchfulness that offended him a little, that today was weekly break, and, therefore, the palace was closed for official visits. The guard added, in a less formal tone, that the Caïd had done well to come very early, and that he should do so in his next attempt, for that was the only way to enter and obtain a hearing.
- So that is only postponed, said the Caïd stoically.
Hadhar thanked by bowing deeply, to which the guard responded by emitting a small hiss, and the whole of his squad returned a military salute, as one man, brief and impressive.
The Caïd found this habit rather abrupt and impersonal, but he understood a little better the spirit of cohesion that animated the squadrons of Gondorian pikemen, he had fought in the past.
The Caïd rested all day, but that inaction weighed on him. The next day, he was ready before anyone else.
Thus he was finally able to present himself at the great gate, and ask to speak to the King.
.oOo.
The officer replied jadedly:
- I see... So this is your first visit to Osgiliath?... You certainly realize that His Majesty cannot receive this huge crowd himself, don't you? It goes without saying that he delegates to several offices, duly mandated, the task of responding to requests. What service do you ask for?
The Caïd was breathless. He could only answer:
- The Goddess alone knows that!
- So you have not been told to the appropriate department? Tell me what your problem is!
Hadhar, who was surprised at the mention of "competent services" - so there were incompetent services? - unwound the incoherent thread of his thoughts, but the officer interrupted him, with some harshness:
- Your story is very confusing! You should go to the visitor's office, which function is precisely to guide you! Now please move around!
The Caïd, a little panicked, asked where this office was, sesame of the Gondorian administrative arcana.
- There is one near every major door! Move along!
.oOo.
The caïd slowly returned to the eastern bank. He had to admit this organization made quite a sense: a visitor's office at the gates, how had he not thought about it? The pilgrim felt very downcast and tired. So, first of all, he went to the public baths, one of the few institutions that Gondor seemed to share with the Harad. Once clean and relaxed, he tried to find the said office.
His research led him from gate to gate around the eastern districts of the capital. They were more severely guarded than the western gates, which overlooked the central regions of Gondor. While the eastern gates, on the Ithilien side, were used by the inhabitants of the neighbouring regions, the Rhovanion march to the north - populated by large, somewhat wild horsemen - and the southern provinces, Hadhar came. He eventually discovered the major gate to the east, through which the main road of Ithilien entered the capital.
Of course, a long line of merchants was waiting, watched by a squad of guards, much less polite than at the palace!
Wise and philosopher, the aïd returned to the inn, ready to re-attack the administrative hydra, at dawn the next day.
He put all the odds on his side and showed up at the office largely before the door opened. So Hadhar was among the first applicants. The official who welcomed him still seemed in good shape, but the Caïd's complicated presentation aroused his suspicion.
So the guard was strengthened and the Caïd was thoroughly interrogated. Once the first usual checks were carried out - boarding slip, settlement discharge of imported goods, receipt of quarantine exemption, etc. - Hadhar's good faith was well acknowledged. The guard was therefore dismissed and the real discussion could begin. An officer came to take care of him.
Hadhar sighed and repeated his story. A few additional checks were made - yes, the Assadhini territory was indeed located in the area bordering the Gondorian protectorate, in force around the Harnen River estuary. The officer asked a few questions, elaborated on some of the details, and concluded:
- Um... Your case sets complex... I have a hard time determining whether the Chancellery of Embassies, the Office of Prisoners Integration or the Legation for the Harnen Protectorate is relevant to answer you...
An appointment was taken for the next day.
But that day, two rival delegations - Riders from Rhovanion, tall and battlers, shaggy and blond - showed up impromptu at the gates and the warden squad was overwhelmed. The officer on duty had all the trouble in the world to prevent the quarrel, supposedly to be arbitrated by the legate of the northern provinces, from being settled in a bloody ordeal. So the officer and the Caïd agreed to postpone.
The next day, his case had made little progress.
The day after, the Caïd learned that the provost of the Ithilien merchants had made a reference to the troubles in the mountains overlooking the Harnen. He did not fully understand what that might mean, except that a high-ranking official was interested in his case. So he took this - quite wrongly! - for an encouraging sign.
The next day, he was asked to return the day after tomorrow.
On that day, he was warned not to bother for nothing: some news were incessantly coming from the Chancellor of the Guests and State Hostages.
Meanwhile, the Caïd was not discouraged. He drew treasures of patience from the serenity of the rites to the Goddess and the conviction that all that hassles were only the just counterpart for his sacrilege, and the price to pay to get rid of his guilt.
The next day, he was made to wait at length in the antechamber. There, he met a young man of good looks, who, like him, was waiting for an interview with the officer. This young man was a clerk for a solicitor, which meant, he explained to Hadhar, that he defended the rights of the complainants against the incompetence of the royal officials.
The Caïd, a little troubled, wondered how a respected King, whose justice was feared by his subjects, could admit such a challenge to his authority, even to subordinate agents. But he knew better and silenced his doubts when remembering he was there to face the test sent by the Goddess.
The following day, his file was transferred to the Legate Substitute for the Harnen Protectorate. His story had to be repeated from the beginning.
After that, several days passed without significant progress.
The Caïd was learning patience, troubled by this diffuse feeling of guilt that never really left him. Every evening he went back to his room, his long face a little more drawn, and confided to the Goddess his growing disarray.
And then one day, he was announced that everything was going to be all right: the case of the Assadhini had been brought to the top, and a favourable outcome seemed to be emerging!
The Caïd waited, full of hope. His sense of guilt had eased somehow.
And then, as the days passed without any news, he began to doubt...
.oOo.
So the Caïd decided to act. He found his young friend the clerk and asked him for help. The latter, enthusiastic, introduced him to the solicitor himself, who made a great impression with Hadhar.
As soon as the emoluments were paid, the clerk initiated a new approach, both strong and delicate, aimed at circumventing all the relevant officials.
The Caïd regained all his combativeness. On the days of the Moon and the Sun, officials were resting. On those days, Hadhar walked the streets of the capital, exploring the outskirts of the Borjes where foreign prisoners were kept. For the cleric had taught him that some of the hostages were free on their word, to move to the capital. He had spotted several of these forts, but he had not been allowed to know where his son was being held.
Regularly, the clerk came to report to him, exposing the progress of his snagging to the high-ranking figures, likely to advance his business. The hot young man had gathered a few cases of jurisprudence, which seemed decisive to him.
The Caïd, with his common sense of the desert, did not see how prudence, a long-term virtue, could lead to a quick and decisive outcome, which was a principle of rupture. But Hadhar trusted the professionals, and took refuge in prayer, in order to, some day, if the Goddess consented, see his son again.
And the days passed in snacks offered to the provosts who had heard about the case, visits and donations to hospitals, consultation with experts patented on the economic and military conditions of the Harnen...
The steps initiated by the clerk were probably finer and safer in the long run, but they seemed rather indirect, and took a long time. Yet the Caïd still affected to believe that these steps would succeed. Only faith saves, taught the Goddess.
Nevertheless, he had to rent a garret from the inhabitant, which would cost him less.
And the process continued, supported by increasingly influential figures. Of course he had to meet them, show good faith, plead his cause, offer meals and drinks to make them talk... and swallow his pride for the love of his son.
Every evening the Caïd went up to his attic, greeting his guests with a dignified and tired air. Sadly smoothing his pepper-and-salt beard, he wondered if he would ever get his forgiveness...
.oOo.
On a festive day, Hadhar thought he saw his son in the crowd, but when he approached, he realized that he had misunderstood: this was a merchant, one of the few here who wore, wrapped around his head, the scarf that protects from the sands. The disappointed pilgrim felt his legs betray him, and he had to sit down for a moment. He thought that his son had probably changed, and he might no longer wear the traditional headdress... nor even perhaps his beard...
For the first time in his life, a passer-by offered him, like an old man, to help him return to his home... And the Caïd, though thanking, found this to be a sad omen...
That next evening, his friend the clerk, his face undone, told him that one of the tracks he was following assiduously, had unexpectedly dried up: he knew from an authorized but confidential source that new military contingents were being sent to the Harnen area, with special auxiliaries. He had taken advice from the solicitor himself, who had concluded that if elite troops were mobilized, it must be concluded that things got worse there, and the chancellery should be expected to show no mercy. He would immediately pull other strings that, etc.
The generous Caïd, in front of the discomfiting mine of the enterprising young man, comforted him as best he could, but he himself was quite demoralized. He missed his country, his wife, his children. He feared that bad news would be hidden from him, that his son had may have died in captivity or worse... that he had become a true Gondorian! And who knows what happened to his tribe, during all this time lost eating his savings, and how was the Uncle's health back in his land?
Hadhar returned to his room, thoughtful and resigned.
The next day was a day of fair. The streets blazed with pennants, the squares resounded with music, and the immense people of this city mingled in a merry farandole. Hadhar walked, sad and lonely, among these children gorged on sweets, these playful women, these slightly fuddled men and visitors from all parts of the West, who came to taste the pleasures and luxury of the Gondorian peace.
Hadhar wandered randomly through the bustling streets, his long, disillusioned face, driven by worries, his sword flapping his boots to the rhythm of his tired steps. The music strains seemed to slide over him without reaching his mind. He wandered alone, a figure of worn probity, in a sea of a joy that did not touch him.
Suddenly a cheeky voice hailed him, mocking and joyful. The Caïd, draped in his dignity, turned to the jumping frilly dress. Inurui, the woman who had teased him during their coach trip, emerged from the crowd in the arms of two seductive admirers, and was about to mock his austere air of grumpy old guardian of morals, when she crossed his tired, resigned and angerless gaze. She dismissed the fellows who danced with her and approached kindly:
- Oh then, you don't look that well!
Hadhar sketched a disillusioned smile, throwing a few drops of water at the four winds, with a fatalistic gesture.
The woman grabbed the Caïd by the arm:
- Come on, you'll explain to me what's wrong!
Hadhar felt very much alone: he let himself be comforted with good grace.
And here they are, sitting in front of a tasty mutton-leg, the Caïd recounting his misfortunes, the girl listening, eating, and commanding wine to top it all. He told her his illusions, his compromises, his humiliations. He confessed he had come, humble and naïve, hoping to find redemption for his sacrilege, relying on the magnanimous King. But he had not even been able to approach the sovereign.
Inurui listened, revived the liberating flow of bitter words, and re-filled Hadhar's glass. Now he sometimes went up to the Caïd, some dark designs against the opaque veil of the Gondorian institutions, but the fate of his son held back his anger...
They spoke at length in the rumours of the nocturnal party, sharing their sorrows and drinking the tavern's liquors in small strokes. With each new timbale, the Caïd dipped his finger in the beverage, and let a drop on the floor. In front of Inurui's perplexing pout, he declared that "a single drop of alcohol was sacrilege when the Goddess's water was not lacking".
"But does your Goddess not allow for oblivion and comfort?" asked the woman, planting her clear gaze in Hadhar's eyes.
The Caïd hesitated. For this righteous soul, comfort came from accomplished duty...
When the couple finally came out of the inn, arm-in-arm, a red moon had risen, shrouded in enigmatic volutes. Seeing that, the Caïd had a premonitory shiver, and insisted on going immediately to the fountain to perform his duties. Red warned about a deadly ban. And the Caïd knew indeed what he had to keep himself from... Inurui did not insist and graciously greeted her one-evening companion, before joining the farandoles, which tunes could be heard on the docks, a little further on.
The following days brought their share of formalities and disappointments, from one office to another in the royal administration. The Caïd, as much to mortify himself as to save his silver crowns, fasted more and more often.
And then, finally, as our unfortunate Caïd, at the end of his resources, really began to despair - glory to the three names of the Goddess! Hadhar was allowed to visit the King's House of Guests!
The little clerk didn't understand it, but he pretended he owned the credit! Someone in a high-ranking position had probably intervened with the rector of the establishment, for in this place were closely guarded the hostages most necessary to Gondor's diplomacy! The Caïd wondered, however, if his friend Inurui, by the grace of her languid glances, had not changed the mood of some high-ranking official...
With the bundle of the required documents, prepared by his friend the clerk, Hadhar gave thanks to the four winds and the three faces of the Goddess, and then showed up at the gate of the bastion, two hours before the appointment.
The warden checked his documents and admitted him into the enclosure.
The jailer checked his documents and opened his register.
The register was written in Gondorian, but the jailer helped the Caïd find his son's name.
Damnation! The register revealed that his son had left the borj two weeks earlier, for another destination!
The Caïd swallowed his disappointment, but he did not let go of the lead, and asked what was this new place of captivity.
The jailer replied he didn't know. This prisoner and his companions, usually subject to light guard, had been made available by the legate for the Gondorian protectorate of Harnen, and transferred, supervised by an entire squad, to secrecy barracks!
The Caïd was flaunted with a shudder of indignation. His black eyes ignited with anger.
He could see clearly now! They were leading him down the orangery path! The King himself could not ignore this veil of duplicity, these lies wrapped in politeness, his officials erected before him! That undignified fuss was combined!
Hadhar nen Hakhim was about to return to his country! He would ambush on the slopes around Sûk Abarrim! He was going to grab a dozen Gondor merchants and ransom them! With these funds, he would raise the whole hinterland! He would assail Sûk Abarrim and take over the governor and his family! Then we'll see if they won't give his son back!
Without a word, dominated by a dull anger, the Caïd went out of the bastion and reached the docks.
Spending his last money, he embarked on a small flat-bottomed carriage to Pelargir. He said no word during the trip, ruminating on his revenge.
When he reached the great heaven, he had no trouble enlisting as a guide, on a cutter that left the next day for the Harnen.
.oOo.
NOTES
1 The diligent reader of the Lord of the Rings, especially of its Appendices, may understand that the room at the top of the dome, is the place where the Palantir of Osgiliath is kept, the master seeing-stone of Gondor, which will sink in the Anduin during the terrible civil war, called the "Kin-Strife".
2 Maybe the reader has recognized mithril?