CHAPTER XXII: A Hierophantic History of Bajazet
Greagoir stroked his beard pensively and began to nod, but just as Tatya suspected his master would fall asleep, the master-scribe sat bolt upright as if struck with a sudden fright. Then he dazedly muttered, 'Ah, no rest for the wicked; we must not be waylaid by the petty charms of sleep. Tatya, let us forego this tale for the moment, I must recount the history of Bajazet. In the library there are three matching black leather volumes, very worn, and quite possibly with pages still grainy with sand. Go fetch them for me.'
Tatya scuttled off to the other room of the cottage and came back quickly with the dusty tomes, half expecting sand to pour out from between the bindings. These weather-beaten volumes, the apprentice was certain, were the very books Greagoir had mentioned as once being in the possession of Imrim ar-Cam. Tatya wondered how his master had managed to get these away from the slave-trader, but Tatya wondered about many things regarding his master. He shrugged and laid the books on the table beside Greagoir.
The old scribe heard the loud thump and motioned his apprentice to open the first of the books. The script that filled the pages was utterly foreign to Tatya, devoid of any of the ornamental illumination that was a source of pride among the calligraphers of Marannan-astair. Tatya became cross-eyed as he tried to decipher the writing, which seemed to be penned from right to left, rather than the standard left to right; but of course, these barbaric people could not be expected to behave conventionally, steeped as they were in lavish excess, brutality and the trafficking of slaves. Fortunately, Greagoir's translation filled the wide margins on either side of the alien script, and it was from these notes that the apprentice would be expected to compile the history of Bajazet in the common tongue.
Content that Tatya was earnestly attending to the translation, Greagoir's weariness at last overtook him and he dozed soundly. Tatya, used as he was to the master's periodic slumbers, ignored the inevitable and began transcribing Greagoir's notes verbatim from the original:
'By the grace of His most regal and terrible Majesty, Ardsagart IV, Emperor of the North, Hetman of the Twelve Tribes, Lord Protector of the Golden Way, and fourteenth Hierophant of the Fifth Dynasty of Bajazet -- for whom a great-tailed star bathed the heavens in fiery light to proclaim his royal birth -- I, Nath Scriobalai, Palace Notary and Chronicler, with praises for the munificent patronage of so enlightened a sovereign, from whose beneficent wisdom all blessings flow, and under whose venerable auspices such scholarly work as this ambitious offering is graciously allowed fulfillment, do hereby offer up the great histories of Bajazet the Eternal and of the illustrious line of Hierophants whose rule has brought unto the realm untold wealth, and protected we, their loyal subjects, from the desolation of the great were-worms; may it be so always and forever.'
Tatya rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose in disgust. What a windbag! If Nath the Notary's entire chronicle was as verbose as his first overwrought sentence, then transcribing the wordy mess would be literally interminable. And three rambling volumes? That would take months and months! Tatya was always one for conciseness (even trimming Greagoir's longer-winded diatribes in the interest of readability and sanity), and if ever there was a work in need of an edit, this blathering ballad of Bajazet was sorely wanting. Tatya scanned the tome, marking paragraphs of interest (which was difficult, considering one had to wade through a sea of words to get to the pearls). One entry caught his eye:
'After the ignoble downfall of the once-great Emperors of Tsin-Quinqan, there came the Dark Days of lawlessness and brigandage. The East was torn by wars of succession, and tumult and rebellion was rife. Mercenary companies, either forced into joblessness by truces that momentarily held a fragile peace, or having decided that free-lancing was more lucrative than jumping back-and-forth to whichever of the vying lords offered the highest reward, roved the caravan routes and took what they would, so that merchants were loathe to travel, lest they be robbed and murdered most cruelly. And such was the turmoil of the time that merchants would band together and hire one such Free Company to defend themselves from the violence of another; so that in one trip a caravan might be set upon by a Free Company that had acted as their guards only months earlier.
Into this chaos there came to Bajazet an ambassador from the Lord Sauron the Great, followed by a courtly retinue bearing gifts and offers of friendship. Seeing the plight of the city and the misery of its people, this vassal of Mordor, who appeared both wise and noble, took pity on Bajazet. With fair-seeming words and lavish promises, the emissary did lull the anxious civic leaders into an alliance. For the use of the caravan routes and a base from which his armies might arrive and depart from Mordor, the Lord Sauron promised to rid Bajazet of the mercenary menace and free the city from the avaricious grasp of the decadent lords of the East. At first the covenant with Mordor seemed as good as the gracious words written in the treaty: the emissary returned with a great force and scattered the Free Companies; further, they conquered much of what was once Tsin-Quinqan, so that never again was Bajazet considered a province of the feuding lords along the Gold Coast; finally, Mordor's overwhelming victories brought a wealth of traffic along the caravan routes, and a great influx of slaves and booty enriched Bajazet; but, as the old saying among the slave traders goes, 'all gifts come with a hidden price.'
With much of the East now under Mordor's subjugation, and no further need of such a vast military presence, it was thought that Lord Sauron's armies would move on as well, seeing as Bajazet had billeted his legions at their own expense for quite some time, and the cost had become exorbitant. Having acted in good faith and certain the terms of the treaty had been fulfilled, a delegation of Bajazet's foremost citizens met with Sauron's emissary to voice their concerns. But the once kindly and sage ambassador of Mordor laughed cruelly and mocked the leaders of the city.
'Beg and scrape, fools, it shall do you no good,' the emissary of Mordor spat haughtily. 'Sauron the Great has given you everything you asked for and more. You pleaded for security, and behold! The mercenary bands have been swept from the caravan routes. Without a second thought for your betrayal, you rejoiced when Mordor conquered the warring Khans to the east, and you greedily gorged on the contents of their vast treasuries, confiscated as the wages of war. You are naught but whores of the desert, and as such you shall do as you are told for the pleasure of Mordor. Now be gone, before Lord Sauron chooses to sack Bajazet and level it with fire and the sword!'
And thus began the long captivity of Bajazet. For one-thousand years, with varying degrees of severity and control, Sauron held the city enthralled. At first Bajazet was ruled by the edicts of various military governors, and the city became the way-meet for the swarming legions that intermittently swept across the East in Sauron's obsessive attempts at total domination. But Sauron had not counted on the savvy and cunning of the people of Bajazet. Rather than conduct an unending series of insurrections that would prostrate and eventually destroy the city and cause the annihilation of its people, the merchant-caste of Bajazet instead warmly welcomed the countless minions of Mordor who flocked through their gates. If Bajazet was to be 'The Great Whore of the East', it would at least profit from its prostitution.
And Bajazet played the cynical role of gaudy courtesan with overt opulence, offering the most enticing entertainments and lavish spectacles for the amusement of its conquering guests. It was at this time that the gladiatorial arenas were first opened in order to take advantage of the insatiable bloodlust of Sauron's armies, as well as a means of regulating the glut of slaves flooding the city. In time, Sauron, evidently comfortable with the subservience of Bajazet, at last withdrew the military governors who long held the city in martial compliance. To take their place, the subtle Sauron introduced the Cult of Morgoth, the ritual praise of the Fallen Angel, subdued but unbroken, waiting the time of final retribution at the end of all things. And to better induce the people to follow this brazen idolatry, the Dark Lord instituted the rule of the Hierophants, Morgoth's priests and sacrificers.
The Hierophants, Priest-kings of Bajazet, were first culled from Sauron's most loyal minions, having learned the art of sacerdotal statecraft under the tutelage of the Dark Lord himself. These cruel and venal men proved more vicious than the military governors they replaced, and they maintained power through terror. Blood sacrifice was their weapon and the threat of such ritual their shield from insurrection. However, as with all systems of government, personal gain overawed the original intent of its policy, and the rule of Bajazet strayed further and further from the hand of its master, whose far-flung empire proved too unwieldy even for one such as Sauron the Great. As the Dark Lord's eye became focused on conquest in the West, the priestly aspect of the Hierophant became more ceremonial, for without the direct religious emphasis placed on the role by Sauron, the interest in the Cult of Morgoth dwindled to naught, as it was ever foreign to the people of Bajazet. Thus, the Hierophant became a hereditary title, and passed back and forth among the great merchant families of Bajazet as their fortunes waxed and waned with the furtherance of time.
The final break with Sauron occurred during the rule of Armortiarna. The Dark Lord's legions passed swiftly from the East as rumor of a new enemy, risen from the waves on the fabled shores of the Western Sea, contested Sauron's might. Armortiana, a man of willful pride and determination, threw off the bitter yoke of Sauron, and repudiated the emissaries of Mordor who came to demand levees and tithes from Bajazet for the war effort. A shrewd ruler, Armortiarna surmised rightly that this Western War was going ill for Mordor, and the dire warnings of Sauron's emissaries against the Hierophant's obstinate refusal of aid were naught but shrill and hollow pronouncements, for Sauron had denuded the East of his armies. Defiantly, the Hierophant consolidated his power by capturing the vestigial garrison that remained to protect Sauron's interests, and he had them fed, each in turn, to the were-worms of the Roaring Waste. Thus, to popular acclaim of his people, Armortiana established the first great dynasty of Hierophants in Bajazet.
Naught of any definitive nature was learned of the outcome of the War in the West; yet ever and anon, there came the faint and dubious rumors from Dorwinion traders that Sauron was humbled, taken captive, and dragged enchained across the sea. Whether this was factual or merely whispered half-truths magnified by distance and time remains hidden; but in any case, the intervening years of relative peace and an apparent end to subjugation brought prosperity greater even than during Mordor's domination of the city-state of Bajazet. There were those who claimed, perhaps wistfully, that Sauron was dead, but the wise mistrusted such optimism, and the Hierophantic line of Armortiarna guarded against his sudden return by building an imposing standing army and developing a system of garrisoned oases all along the great desert trade routes. The ever-present danger of were-worms was dealt with through continuous diligence and brutal efficiency. After many years, the threat of these serpents of the waste lessened as their broods were found and destroyed, and the progeny of evil was driven further and further into the deep desert.
"What day is it?"
Tatya peered up from behind the binding of the great book, and glanced with bemusement upon his befuddled master. "Why, it was and is Tuesday, master," the apprentice answered rather mockingly, "and it is getting on towards evening. Shall I make you some supper?"
"Eating becomes just another means of passing the time when one has lived too long, Tatya," the old man sighed. "I neither hunger nor thirst, I merely exist."
Tatya's gaze traced the wane outline of Greagoir's hollow cheeks. He had become gaunt and ashen in these last few weeks, and the ruddy pallor that characterized his once robust countenance was all but gone. With worry creeping into his voice, Tatya began to chastise his teacher, "Master, you really must rest more. You need…"
But Greagoir waved off the apprentice's warning with a feeble gesture. "The time for rest will come soon enough," he interrupted irritably, regaining some sense of command in his tone. "There is much I wish to impart, and the summer breeze grows fleeting. Come the autumn, I wish to have done with my tale." Realizing his words implied more than he intended, the master-scribe added, "So that we may concentrate completely on our manuscript without my foolish asides intervening during the winter months."
Tatya laid down the History of Bajazet, relieved that such a monumental editing task was to be forsaken for the time being. Tatya did find it strange that Greagoir had become more helter-skelter with his material, picking up and dropping off assignments in wild fluctuations; but the varied materials and ever changing stories suited the apprentice just fine. It seemed he had little patience to dwell overlong on a specific topic with the ardor of his master. This single-mindedness, he assumed, was a matter of maturity; and if that was the case, he could wait a few more years to assume such a mantle of focus. Yet even as Tatya was considering the method to his master's madness, Greagoir had begun his tale anew, and the mesmerizing sound of his voice gathered strength as it rose and fell with the sonorous and rhythmic phrasing of a timeless bardic cadence.