Aunt Nisci and Uncle Yurok raised Amorian well and true to
his mother and her people. On his
eighteenth birthday they returned in the same itinerant’s wagon to the valley
of the gods and camped near the site of Leah’s Spa.
Amorian was a sturdy young man and he hiked the whole valley
in his eighteenth summer and found the treasure trove that his mother left to
him. Not just the gold but the truth of
his heritage. He had her diary from the
day he was conceived until the day she was forced by his father to go to
Esagilia and die. A true clansman Amorian
vowed to kill the man to avenge his mother.
He could afford to bide his time but he would soon insinuate himself
into the king’s household and position himself to take revenge. The man must know why he was dying and that
it was his own son who took his life. A
life for a life.
He went to the small grove where his godparent’s had set up
their camp, “Good morning, Aunt Nisci, where is uncle?”
“He is showing a soldier where the old spa was,” she told
him. “Four soldiers came this morning to
survey the area for a possible buyer.”
“And who will they pay?” Amorian asked dryly.
Aunt Nisci looked up and smiled at Amorian, “Indeed,” she
said, “May her soul rest in peace.”
“Her spirit is here,” Amorian answered, “She is around every
turn in the trail, her spirit rests in every glade, and she dances with the
gods of the valley in every storm.”
He climbed into the wagon and rummaged around for a bit
emerging with a three stringed instrument, “The time of mourning is over, we
have found mother’s spirit and now we can sing again,” he announced.
Aunt Nisci bowed her acceptance of Amorian’s announcement
and she entered their wagon in her drab black of mourning and emerged in
colorful, traditional dress with rings and beads decorating her plump
body.
Uncle Yurok came back to camp with a chicken for the pot and
a gold coin for his labor and that night Amorian played and sang in his fine
tenor voice while aunt and uncle danced around the fire and they all ate the
chicken and emerged from the years of mourning.
Uncle Yurok stood behind Amorian with his hands on the lad’s
shoulder’s as he sang one of his mother’s ballads and Aunt Nisci cleaned the
dinner dishes in a bucket of hot water at the fire.
The next morning they were awakened early by the soldiers
who hired uncle the day before, “You must vacate the valley old man, we will
survey and build a palace for our employer.”
“Sir, we are but tinkers who repair kitchen utensils, won’t
there be a useful place for us here?” he asked thinking of the pot of plenty
that they brought with them.
“Who is the boy?” the soldier asked.
“He is our orphaned nephew and a fine troubadour. You must hear him sing,” Uncle Yurok
insisted.
“Play, boy,” the soldier said, less than polite but aunt
served him a morning tea by the fire and Amorian played and sang.
The soldier was more than pleased with the boy and the
tea. He decided that they were harmless
and useful so he invited them to stay and repair the kitchen utensils and
entertain the architect and builders until the palace was finished.
The soldiers set up a tent pavilion for the skilled
craftsmen and a kitchen near the tinker’s grove and slowly the planners and
builders gathered and began surveying the land.
The three itinerants lived off of the over-abundance of the
wealthy as was their custom and Amorian perfected his songs and wrote new songs
to entertain the skilled craftsmen. During the day he wandered the valley and
communed with its gods and his mother, Leah, but at night he was just the
troubadour.
The architect was a man name Benjamin who designed great,
public buildings on retainer for Good King Amorian. He soon confided in Amorian that he was the
king’s long ago exiled brother and that it was the king himself who was having
a summer palace built here in the valley and it was to be called Leah’s Palace.
Amorian was stunned at his good fortune and decided he would
stay until vengeance was exacted. The
gods of the valley would bring his mother’s murderer to him so they could
witness justice. Amorian cultivated his
relationship with Benjamin to get news of the king and Benjamin grew very fond
of the young man and his music.
Benjamin’s parents were also gone so he felt a kinship with Amorian who
claimed he had never known his father and told Benjamin that his mother had
worked in the spa’s kitchen and garden which was the literal truth.
Benjamin asked young Amorian if he remembered Leah and the
boy shrugged and said, “She was very beautiful and always kind and treated
everyone well,” he said, “She spent days alone exploring the valley and she
could feed the wild birds and animals by hand.
But” he smiled sheepishly, “those are things that a small boy would
notice.”
“But it tells me much about the spirit of the woman,”
Benjamin said. “My brother was a very
literal man, I am surprised at his choice of a queen.” Benjamin confided in Amorian about his
brother’s actions against himself and his mother before he became king.
“Then,” Amorian asked, “He was not a very loyal man and took
his ties lightly?”
Benjamin thought about it and said, “Amorian was raised with
duty as the center of his being. It
trumped everything else,” he added.
Amorian was quiet for a few moments, “I must write a song
about a very sad man who put duty before love, family, and the gods,” he
said. “It is very contrary to the
culture in which I was raised,” he told Benjamin.
Benjamin nodded his head in agreement and they parted
company. Benjamin occasionally asked him
about the song but Amorian explained that he was having trouble setting the
tale to music.
An
army of workmen arrived and much to Amorian’s horror they had every intention
of carving one of the ochre buttes into stones for the palace. He walked among the huge rock formations that
night and heard the rumbling of the gods as man planned the destruction of one
of the formations.
Amorian walked out of the valley that morning as the workmen
assembled and he encountered Benjamin leading the men to the formation chosen
for destruction.
“Join us Amorian,” he yelled.
“No,” Amorian answered, “You are toying with the gods and
they are angry.”
“What is that talk?” Benjamin asked.
“Believe me not one stone will be turned without raising the
wrath of the gods,” he said, “You are acting against an ancient place and it
will not be allowed.”
Some of the men familiar with the legends about the valley
began to hesitate and Benjamin was ahead of the group as he continued his march
to the designated butte. Suddenly, out
of the clear blue sky a bolt of lightning knifed from on high and all that was
left of Benjamin was a burned patch on the earth as thunder rolled overhead shaking
the ground beneath them.
The soldiers questioned everyone especially Amorian who had
predicted the event just before it happened.
The head soldier
asked him, “Troubadour, what do you know of this event?” he cuffed the young
man.
“I know nothing of this particular event,” Amorian said,
“But I do know the legends and felt compelled to warn Benjamin,” he
answered.
“Bah, legends,” the soldier said and stalked toward the
butte with his sword drawn and when he raised it over his head to strike the
rock another bolt of lightning knifed from the sky and left a black mark on the
earth and again the thunder rolled.
Convinced and panicked the workmen ran from the scene and
tried to hide from the sky and even the soldiers were fleeing from the valley
floor leaving Amorian standing alone before the gods. Having spent the night
with the gods he said a last prayer and went to the grove and the tinker’s
wagon.
“What happened?” Aunt Nisci asked.
Amorian explained that the gods became angry because the men
planned to destroy a butte for building material.
“They are fools,” Uncle Yurok exclaimed in anger.
Amorian and Aunt Nisci smiled at each other, “Indeed,” they
both said.
The soldiers moved their camp further out of the valley and
sent a runner to the palace to get further instructions.
The king himself came to see what the problem was and said,
“See, while my soldiers cower in the foothills these itinerants remain in their
grove. What does this say about my
soldiers?” he asked.
He rode into the grove and Aunt Nisci invited him to
tea. He wore no insignia and sat at the
fire with the three and passed the time of day.
“What happened here?” he asked them, “And why aren’t you
afraid?” the king asked.
The youngest answered, “The gods know that we would not so
much as move a rock or pick a flower in the valley,” he answered quietly.
“So you believe the legends?” he asked.
“They are the truth,” he told the king, “And not just
legends.”
The king was silent for a moment, “But didn’t a woman once
live here?” he asked.
Aunt Nisci observed, “Yes, many years ago but she is gone
now. She honored the gods and danced
with them in the night,” the aunt responded.
“What happened to the spa?” he asked, “I don’t even see
ruble,” he said.
“It was struck repeatedly by lightening when she left and
the winds dispersed everything,” the young man shrugged and said, “That is what
the legend’s say, but we were not here then,” he answered.
“But you were here when the lightning struck the builder and
the soldier?” he asked.
“Yes,” the troubadour responded.
“And you weren’t afraid the gods would kill you by
accident?” the king smiled.
The young man said, “The gods do not have accidents.”
“You are well spoken for an itinerant,” the king said.
“We travel far and wide,” the boy said and spoke to his aunt
and uncle in their native tongue.
“What did you just say?” the king asked.
“I said that the shadows grow long,” the boy said.
The king rose to go and before mounting his stallion he
asked the young man, “Is there any way to placate these gods of yours?” he
asked.
“They won’t allow damage,” he said, “It is unacceptable.”
The king mounted his horse, “I will figure out a way to make
this project happen,” and then asked, “Is one of you the troubadour?”
“I sing a little,” the young man answered, “Just old music
of the region,” he added.
“I will be back tonight,” the king said tossing several gold
coins on the ground, “You will sing,” he said to Amorian and turning the
stallion he rode away to the group of horsemen who waited for him.
Amorian clenched his jaw and kicked at the coins in the
dirt, “I will see you tonight, father,” he spit out.
“I can do it,” Uncle Yurok offered.
“No, Uncle, it will be my pleasure,” Amorian claimed the
right.
They sat at the fire sharpening the killing knife until
later that afternoon and then Amorian bathed in a pool and strummed his three
stringed instrument and sang softly to the gods until the king returned. If they had been at the main encampment each
male over eighteen would have taken a turn sharpening the knife. It was clan revenge as well as the revenge of
Amorian and the gods.
When the king returned he wore a knapsack and asked the
young man if he would enjoy a short hike into the buttes.
Amorian told the king in front of his men, “If you plan to
destroy the butte it will not be safe for you to walk among the gods.”
“Bah,” the king said, “I have walked there in the past, I
will be fine.”
Amorian looked at the soldiers as if imploring them to stop
the king, but they had seen the king’s temper and said nothing.
Amorian shrugged and shook his head as if it was against his
better judgment but walked by the king’s side toward the darkening rock
formations. The soldiers felt a slight
shaking of the ground and looked at their officers. They slowly began to inch back from the
valley until they were moving en masse and when a bolt of lightning illuminated
the whole valley they panicked and ran to the hills.
The king kept walking forward as if to meet a foe and soon
they were far from the horsemen and a large storm broke out with great sheets
of lightning illuminating the rock formations and the wind moaned through the
formations as if there was a large male chorus chanting sacred music.
The young man warned the king again but the king’s face was
tired and resigned Amorian thought and he walked even more quickly toward the
center of the valley as if to keep an appointment.
“You hurry to your death,” Amorian mocked him.
“Who are you?” the king asked.
“I
am Leah’s son, father,” he spewed out at the tired, old man and drew the
glittering knife which flashed as a bolt of lightning crossed the sky and
thunder shook the earth.
“Take
your revenge, my son, you deliver me from a lifelong purgatory,” he sighed and
raised his arms to the heavens in defeat and as a sacrificial offering.
Before
he could plunge the knife into his father’s chest a bolt of lightning sliced
downward and the man burned to a black mark on the earth a few feet in front of
Amorian.
An
eerie silence fell on the earth and a deep darkness descended as Amorian fell
to his knees and acknowledged the right of the gods. A chorus of male voices chanted a hymn that
echoed among the rocks and then the voices lowered as Leah’s voice raised
itself in joyful life again and Amorian rose and sang with his mother and he
thought he could see her in flowing white dancing over the rocks.
Fare
well and flourish from the valley of the gods.
October
2013 Karen MacEanruig
