Post by Kamenwati on Nov 12, 2011 7:50:24 GMT -6
Back in Fez
The sands of the Homeland... wet from the sea... and now Kamenwati lay prone in the wake... the surf swilling about him, with each pulsed return of the sea to land. The savior barrel now drifted along the sands, bobbing and weaving with the current. Matted black hair covered his face as he looked up... in the distance he saw a mermaid perched upon a rock... and she was singing to him. He drew his knees up, his ass higher than his back... a push from weakened arms and he stood... weary and sore, he looked again toward the rock... the mermaid was gone...
He staggered to the rock and sat down... he removed his shirt and wiped his face. As he looked over his shoulder toward the direction of the city, the sun setting fast in the west, a burning pain seared his chest... it was as if a dagger plunged into his heart... and his hands clutched at his chest, and he groaned... “Briseis... what pain do we endure my beloved...” he said in his native Berber tongue. Looking to the east, he laid his shirt down and knelt upon it, his arms outstretched... then in rhythmic motions, he began to pray to Allah... Again the pain seared his chest... he knew Briseis was in trouble... he just knew it !!!
“Allah, why do you make her suffer... tis I that have caused this... yet you punish the innocent and let the guilty go free...” he had never questions God before... never questioned the teachings of Mohammed... until now... He was short of breath, yet he cursed God... and vowed to ravage this land if she was harmed, even if only one hair...
Hours later, the man who came from the sea entered the thriving Berber city of Fez... His clothes were torn and dirty, and he could be accused of being a beggar... but this time, that was not a bad thing... He could move freely as such... To the Amir’s palace he made his way, past the markets, the merchants, and guards to enter the inner ring of the palace...
In the new few hours, nearing daybreak, he had imitated a beggar, a merchant, and now, a palace guard. The true guard lay in a storage room, sans his clothes, with a broken neck. Experience as a guard he had, and as such patrolled the area, not for security, but to find his beloved.
Little did Kam know when he had donned the guards uniform and went in search through the halls of his beloved, what he would encounter.
Rooms sat with their doors open, dancers sat on cushions laughing and talking, unaware of the imposter walking the halls.
"I heard that new girl danced so well, you could see the Amir's fancy through his robes" One of the girls was saying as she leaned back closer to a slave who was fanning with an overly large feather.
"I don't care how the little harlot dances, she can't be better then we are. I heard she was so horrible, the Amir made her one of his sex slaves. Hope she had a whole better between her legs then way she moves her limbs" Another spoke and the room erupted into laughter.
Down the hall two women were coming with soiled rags and bowls filled with bloody water. "That poor girl, did you see the bruises on her? I heard one of his wives saying she had been sodomized." The woman shuddered as she spoke and her companion shook her head.
"I wonder what she said to him. Those bruises on her thighs, I never thought it possible the Amir could be so rough in his conquest of a slave. None of his other concubines ever had such bruises. And now he's gone and summoned her to the main chamber, to show her off no doubt. Thank Allah he didn't bruise her face." The other woman now spoke in reply before they stopped seeing Kam looking into an empty room. "Just what are you doing down this hallway? Shouldn't you be in the main chamber with the rest of the guards. The Amir ordered all spare guards into the chamber to guard his new toy. Off with you."
Kam listened, and his teeth ground inside his jaw. All he did was pray to Allah that he could get within arm’s reach of the bastard. With each snide comment his anger rose, and then to hear about Briseis’ woe... Sodomized? Bruised? “Allah’s will be done...” he prayed silently.
The women did not budge until Kam turned around and headed back the way he came towards the main chamber. The open room of dancers were still making brash comments about the Amir's new toy as he passed but nothing was like the chamber where the Amir was entertaining his nobles and showing off his new prize behind a cage of human bodies of his guards. People were peeking through the gaps in the guards at the girl sitting within a chair, her head bowed, eyes on the floor. There was no way for Kam to get to her but as he walked the hall, Briseis' head lifted and for a moment it seemed as if she would look at him but looked down again as the guards parted and she slowly rose red robes swaying and the golden necklace like a collar around her neck jingled and swayed as she moved from her chair to the Amir's side and sank to her hands and knees, crawling to the edge of his throne and it was there she was seated until supper was called for.
For three weeks, Kam would try to get close to her but to no avail. The Amir was not letting his new toy out of his sight even when she was in the company of his harem there was a load of guards to protect them but it was clear that Briseis was taking the brunt of the Amir's attention, if not every night so there was not talk, often enough that she winced now and again when she moved or found it difficult to seat herself.
Slowly as the weeks waxed and waned, the color in Briseis cheeks was failing. The fierceness with which her eyes shown was fading and while the girls in the harem seemed content to live laugh and find humor in mundane things, Briseis was just a fading sparrow in the group of fawning peacokes, she had ceased talking unless spoken to and her song to Kam had not been sung since her first night in Morocco.
The three weeks of trying... 3 weeks of failing... to get close enough to his beloved was wearing thin on his psyche... and his anger was so deeply embedded, he could taste it. Dark brown eyes scanned the areas where Briseis was... He wished he could let her know he was here... and trying. Almost to the point of giving up, to offer his life for her freedom... she was a caged canary, with little hope of freedom... and it was killing him.
But Allah intervened... a Christian had visited the Palace of the Amir... a Frenchman named James du’Chere, offering the lands of Bab el-Zakat on the Espania coast to the Amir in exchange for free trade routes, and 10 percent of all profits. The Amir also added information that the Mo’r Triath of Skye was also in negotiation with the Berbers.
This information would prove beneficial... Kam considered what under-dealings this Frenchman proposed and felt his duty to inform the Lord of Skye... “If Skye knew of this information, then the Mo’r Triath would get involved, then there would be a chance I could get Bri free...” he muttered silently to himself. It was a slim chance, but at least he had a chance.
There were plenty of times Kam had gotten close to the harem and many times when Briseis head had lifted only to fall again. A feeling her beloved was here was so potent but she was afraid, afraid the barest hint that she knew he was here would be his downfall and she could not risk looking around for him. The Amir was too powerful, for now. Silently she prayed Kam would know, in the end that it was too dangerous, that he would retreat and when she felt the heat of him leave as surely as if she had seen him to the docks, she heaved a sigh and prayed to her Gods that she endure until his return, much as it was leaving her hollow. Something within her told her he would return.
