Fortune's stroke

Chapter 20

Adulis

Summer, 532 A.D.

Seated on his throne, in what had been the viceroy's audience hall at Sana, Eon stared down at the crowd. Other than the dozen or so sarwen standing guard against the walls, and his immediate advisers-Antonina, Garmat and Ousanas-the people who packed the large chamber were all Arabs. The Arabs were gathered in clusters. Each cluster consisted of several middle-aged or elderly men, a middle-aged woman serving as a chaperone, and-

"Christ in Heaven," muttered Eon, "there's a horde of them. Did every single Arab in Mecca bring his daughter?"

Garmat, standing at Eon's left hand, whispered, "Don't exaggerate, King. That's not a horde of young women. Merely a large mob. As to your question-what did you expect? There are many tribes in the Hijaz, and each is comprised of several clans. They couldn't agree on a single choice, so every one of those clans sent its favorite daughter."

Eon's jaw tightened. "This is no time for humor, old man. How am I supposed to choose one? Without offending the others?"

Garmat hesitated. From Eon's other side, Ousanas whispered: "Have Antonina make the choice. She is from Rome. The Empire is very respected, but also very distant. The Arabs will accept her decision as being impartial."

Standing next to Ousanas, Antonina's eyes widened with startlement. Before she had time to register any protest, however, Garmat weighed in with his concurrence.

"That's an excellent idea. And because she's a woman, she can spend time alone with the girls before making her choice. That gives better odds of making a good selection than for you to just guess, looking at a sea of veils."

Eon looked up at Antonina. Whatever protest she might have made died under the silent appeal in those young brown eyes. An appeal, she realized, which was as much personal as political. So soon after the loss of his two beloved concubines, Eon was in no mental state to select a wife.

She nodded. "If you wish, King of Kings. But I would like to have several days to make the decision. As Garmat said, I can spend the time getting acquainted with the girls."

"Take as much time as you need," said Eon. The King rose from his throne. The faint murmurs in the room died away.

"As all of you know," he said, speaking in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the chamber, "Axum has formed an alliance with the Roman Empire against the Malwa." Eon nodded imperiously toward Antonina. "This woman, Antonina, is the wife of the great general Belisarius. She is also an accomplished leader in her own right and is the head of the Roman Empire's delegation."

The room was silent. The absence of any whispers indicated the fact that everyone in the room was already quite familiar with Antonina's position. Eon had suspected as much, but wanted to give emphasis to her importance.

"I wish to have her select my wife from among your daughters," he announced. "There can be no suspicion of any favoritism, if the choice is made by Rome's envoy. She will spend a few days in the harem, in order to meet the girls, before making her decision."

Now, the room was filled with whispers. Antonina, listening carefully to the emotional undertone of the hubbub, decided that Eon's announcement was meeting with general favor.

Since the negusa nagast was clearly prepared to let the crowd's quiet little discussion continue for a bit, Antonina took the opportunity to inspect her surroundings. She had been rushed into the audience chamber the moment she arrived in Sana.

The viceroy's palace, judging from the evidence, suffered more damage from Eon's recapture of Sana than the city itself. The heavy stone architecture was still intact-Eon had used no gunpowder in his assault, simply the spears of the sarawit-but most of the walls were scorched. The palace walls had been adorned with tapestries, which were now nothing but ashes. Fortunately, the flames had been extinguished before they could do more than slightly char the heavy beams supporting the roof.

The rebel Abreha had made his last stand here. It hadn't been much of a stand, from the reports Antonina received. Once his Arab auxiliaries had been drawn away from Sana by Antonina's bait, Abreha's two rebel regiments had been forced to face the loyal Ethiopian sarawit unaided. Even sheltered behind Sana's walls, they had had no great stomach for the task.

When word came, from fleeing bedouin, that the Romans had shattered the Arab army at the oasis, most of Abreha's troops had mutinied. Only two hundred men from his own Metin regiment had remained loyal to him. The rest, and the entire Falha sarwe, had negotiated surrender terms with Eon.

The negusa nagast, filled with youthful fury, had not been inclined to grant anything beyond their lives. But Garmat's advice prevailed. The Falha sarwe had been reaccepted as a unit, with no repercussions. Even the men from Abreha's regiment who surrendered had gone unpunished, except that new officers had been appointed. The old ones were cashiered in disgrace.

Abreha and his remaining two hundred rebels had forted up in the viceroy's palace. The fighting had been ferocious, for about an hour, as spears flashed in rooms and corridors. But Abreha's two hundred had been overwhelmed by the loyal sarwen pouring through the palace's many entrances.

There had been no quarter given. Not even Garmat had recommended mercy, after the body of his friend, Sumyafa Ashwa, had been found. The former viceroy had been tortured by the Malwa agents who had advised Abreha in his rebellion. Whatever information the Malwa had extracted from the man had not come easily. Sumyafa had died under the knife.

The Malwa agents had been captured, along with Abreha himself, in the very audience chamber where Antonina was now standing. They had not been tortured, exactly. Ethiopians were not given to lingering forms of death-dealing. Still, the traditional Axumite way of punishing treason was savage enough. The traitors had been disemboweled and then strangled with their own guts. The latter was simply a gruesome flourish, since intestines are too soft to serve as a proper garrote.

Antonina wrinkled her nose. The stench had faded, but it was still powerful. Most of the stone floor, even after hours of scrubbing, was stained with brown marks. Flies were buzzing about everywhere. They seemed to cover every inch of floor where someone was not standing.

Antonina stared at the crowd of Arab tribesfolk. All of them were standing on those brown stains-men, women, and young girls alike-with not a trace of squeamishness. Oblivious to the smell, so far as Antonina could determine. Occasionally, casually, they swatted away flies buzzing around their faces, but they ignored the insects crawling on the floor.

Those people were merchants, not bedouin-Meccans, mostly, although some were from Yathrib and Jidda-but they were still Arabs. Arabia was the land of the desert, and its people, over the centuries, had been formed by its harsh regimen. Those folk were much given to poetry, and could spend hours in town squares and bedouin camps engaged in cheerful banter and argument. And they could often be the most generous and hospitable people in the world. But they were not squeamish, not in the least. Ethiopia had repaid rebellion in the traditional coin. The Arab merchants standing before the King of Kings were simply congratulating themselves for having had the good sense to avoid the business.

Eon, apparently, decided that the Arabs had had enough time to think.

"If anyone has an objection, speak now," he commanded. The room fell silent. Eon waited, for at least a minute. There was no voice of protest. Antonina, watching for the little body twitches which might indicate uneasiness, could see none.

"Good idea, Ousanas," she murmured.

"I am a genius," agreed the former dawazz. "It is well known, in educated circles." Garmat snorted. "Not, of course, among decrepit former bandits."

He began to add something else, but fell silent. Eon was speaking again.

"Send your girls to the harem. Servants will show you the way. Antonina will join them shortly."

A moment later, the crowd was filing out of the room. The eyes of several dozen veiled young women were now peeking at Antonina. All of those eyes were curious. Some were shy; some bold. Some seemed friendly; some uncertain; a few, perhaps even hostile.

Those last eyes, she suspected, belonged to particularly comely girls. Vain creatures, who were filled with dark suspicion that an unveiled Roman woman, herself a beauty, would not be swayed by their good looks.

You've got that right, my fine fillies, she thought sardonically. Forget all that nonsense. I'm looking for a young man's wife. That's a different business altogether.

Antonina's task was simplified, from the very beginning, by her unspoken decision to seek a wife only among the clans of the Quraysh. All the tribes in the Hijaz had sent girls, but that was mainly a matter of pride. The Quraysh, sensibly, had neither objected nor made any demand for precedence. Still, the fact remained that the Quraysh dominated western Arabia. To pick a wife from any other tribe would offend them deeply. And, on the other hand, none of the other tribes would take it amiss if Antonina chose a Quraysh girl. They were expecting her to, in truth. They simply wanted their own precious daughters to be given formal consideration.

Which Antonina did. She was careful to spend as much time with girls from the other tribes as she did with those from the various clans of the Quraysh. That was not simply a matter of show, either. Concubinage was respected practice among Arabs. She intended to select several concubines for the negusa nagast, from among the non-Quraysh girls. She had not discussed the matter with Eon prior to entering the harem. Antonina knew the young King was not even looking forward to a wife, much less a gaggle of concubines. But he would yield to political necessity, when the time came.

Her name was Rukaiya, and she was from the Beni Hashim clan of the Quraysh.

Antonina dismissed her, at first. The girl was much too pretty-downright stunning, in fact-and, what was worse, very slender. Eon was the sole survivor of the Axumite dynasty, and Antonina wanted to take no chances with the royal line. Her friend, the empress Theodora, was also a slender woman. Theodora had almost died in childbirth, because of her narrow hips. The baby had died, and Theodora had never had another.

Antonina wanted a girl with big hips. Intelligent, also, and with a good temperament. But she wanted a girl who could produce royal heirs without a hitch. Lots of them.

But, as the hours went by on the first day, in conversations with the various prospects, she found her eyes being drawn toward Rukaiya. That was not because the Beni Hashim girl was trying to draw her attention. Rather the contrary. If anything, Rukaiya seemed almost to be avoiding her.

There was no way to do so, of course. Not in the harem which, other than its sleeping chambers, consisted of a single large room. The roof was open, and the center of the room was occupied by a shallow pool. The girls-almost fifty of them-were seated on benches. The majority were packing the benches which fronted the pool, where they would be most visible. But there were perhaps two dozen seated on benches ranged against the far walls.

At first, Antonina had thought those were the shy ones. But, as she became introduced to all of them, she realized that most of the girls on the rear benches were from the non-Quraysh tribes. They knew perfectly well that they would not be chosen, and they had seen no reason to gasp for breath in the crush at the pool.

All except Rukaiya-who, though Quraysh, had clearly not chosen that self-effacing position because of any shyness. Antonina's attention was drawn to her, in fact, because she began noticing how often other girls, as the day went on, would scurry over and exchange words with Rukaiya.

Antonina could not hear those exchanges, but it didn't take her long to understand what was happening.

In the first few hours, anxious girls went to Rukaiya to settle their nerves. A few words spoken by a calm and friendly face seemed to do the trick. The girls would resume their seats at the pool, a bit more relaxed.

As the day wore on, Antonina noticed several other girls surreptitiously scurrying over to Rukaiya's bench. These, she thought, were downcast because they were not very pretty, and were looking for reassurance. The most beautiful girl in the room seem to give it to them. With words, for the most part. But Antonina also noticed the little hugs, and the hair-stroking, and the time Rukaiya held a softly weeping fifteen-year-old girl in her arms for several minutes. The girl, with her lumpy face and figure, obviously felt she was too unattractive to be a king's wife.

Which, in truth, she was. Antonina was not looking for beauty, first and foremost. But whoever she selected would have to be pretty enough to arouse the king's interest. Axum needed a stable dynasty. That meant heirs, which a homely queen might not provide.

But, although Antonina was impressed by Rukaiya, she continued to rule her out. For a while, as she listened to one or another girl chatter at her, Antonina mulled over the possibility of selecting Rukaiya for one of Eon's concubines. But she decided against that, as well. The daughter of the Beni Hashim was just too beautiful. Too attractive in all respects, for that matter. After hours in the harem, observing with her keen eyes and mind, Antonina couldn't fail to notice Rukaiya's ease of manner and excellent temperament.

All of which, of course, argued against her.

She's too skinny for a queen and too dazzling for anything else. Antonina didn't want to risk a situation where the King of Kings produced no legitimate heirs because he was besotted with a concubine.

She went to bed, the first night, with that conclusion firmly drawn. By the end of the second day, the firm conclusion was getting ragged around the edges.

The second day was a day for culling. In the course of it, Antonina-as gently as possible-made clear to most of the girls she talked to that they were no longer under consideration. Many of them took the news cheerfully enough, especially those who were not of the Quraysh. But there were others, of course, who were upset.

At least half of those, Antonina couldn't help but notice, immediately made a beeline for Rukaiya's bench. By mid-afternoon, the daughter of the Beni Hashim was surrounded by a cluster of other girls. It was, by far, the most cheerful group of girls in the harem. Whatever tears had tracked down those young cheeks were dried, and the girls were laughing at one of Rukaiya's soft-spoken jests. The girl seemed to have quite a wit, on top of everything else.

Antonina had still not exchanged a word with her. She had ruled Rukaiya out from the very start, and Rukaiya herself had made no attempt to get Antonina's attention. But the Roman woman knew full well what was happening at that bench.

There are people in this world who have the knack for it. People who draw others around them, like a lodestone draws iron filings. The kind of people whom others, when they stumble and fall, automatically look to for help and guidance.

The kind of people, in short, that you like to see sitting on a throne-and rarely do.

Antonina shook her head. Too skinny.

By the morning of the third day, Antonina had narrowed her selection to three girls. She decided to spend the entire day in private conversations with those final prospects.

Rukaiya was not among them. Yet, when the time came for Antonina to make her announcement to the assembled girls in the harem, her tongue seemed to have a will of its own. After she finished naming the three finalists, the rebellious organ kept talking.

"And Rukaiya," her tongue blurted out.

Across the room, Rukaiya's head jerked up. The girl was staring at Antonina, wide-eyed. That was due to surprise, and-something else. Rukaiya, strangely, seemed distressed by the announcement.

That's odd, thought Antonina. Then, firmly, to her tongue: And she's still too skinny.

Antonina interviewed Rukaiya last of all. It was already late in the afternoon by the time the Beni Hashim girl entered the small sleeping chamber in the harem which Antonina was using for her private meetings.

As Rukaiya took a seat on a bench across from her, Antonina admired the grace in the girl's movements. There was something almost sinuous in the way Rukaiya walked, and slid herself onto a couch. Even the way the girl sat, with her hands modestly folded in her lap, had a feline poise to it. And her clear brown eyes, watching Antonina, had little in them of a sixteen-year-old girl's uncertainty and awkwardness.

Antonina returned Rukaiya's stare in silence, for a good minute or so. She was studying the girl carefully, but could read nothing in her expression. That beautiful young face might as well have been a mask. Antonina could detect none of the quick-witted liveliness which she had noticed for two days, nor the startled apprehension which had shone in Rukaiya's eyes the moment she heard herself named as one of the four finalists.

Let's clear that mystery up first, she decided.

"You seemed startled, when I named you," Antonina stated. "Why is that?"

The girl's answer came with no apparent hesitation. "I was surprised. You had seemed to pay no attention to me, the first two days. And I was not expecting to be selected. I am too skinny. Two men-their parents, actually-have already rejected me as a wife. They are worried I will not be able to bear children."

The statement was matter-of-fact, relaxed-almost philosophical. That was its own surprise. Most Arab girls, rejected by a suitor's parents, would have been heartsick.

The problem was not romantic. Marriage among upper-class Arabs was arranged by their families. Often enough, the man and woman involved did not even know each other prior to their wedding. But marriage was the destiny and the highest position to which an Arab girl could aspire. To be rejected almost invariably produced feelings of unworthiness and shame.

Yet Rukaiya seemed to feel none of that. Why?

Antonina was alarmed. One obvious explanation for Rukaiya's attitude was that the girl was so egotistical-so enamored of her own beauty and grace-that she was simply incapable of accepting rejection. She might be the kind of person who, faced with disappointment, always places the blame on others.

In the long history of the Roman Empire, Antonina reminded herself, there had been more than one empress with that mentality. Most of them had been disastrous, especially the ones whose noble birth reinforced their egotism. Antonina's friend Theodora, in truth, had the same innate temperament. But Theodora's hard life had taught the woman to discipline her own pride. A girl like Rukaiya, born into Arabia's elite, would have nothing to teach her to restrain arrogance.

"You do not seem upset by the fact," Antonina said. The statement had almost the air of an accusation.

For the first time since she entered the chamber, life came back to Rukaiya's face. The girl chuckled. Her face exuded a cheerful acceptance of the world's whimsies. The expression, combined with the little laugh, was utterly charming.

"My family is used to it. All the women, for generations, have been skinny. My mother's thinner than I am, and she was rejected four times before my father's family decided to take a chance on her."

Rukaiya gave Antonina a level gaze. "I am her oldest daughter. She has had three more, and two sons. One of my sisters, and one of my brothers, died very young. But not at childbirth. My grandmother had nine children. None died in childbirth, and six survived into adulthood. Her mother-my great-grandmother-had twelve children. She died before I was born, but everyone says she had the hips of a snake."

Rukaiya shrugged. "It just doesn't seem to matter, to us. My mother tells me that it will be very painful, the first time, but not so bad after that. And she is not worried that I will die."

Well, so much for that problem, thought Antonina wryly. But I'm still puzzled-

"You did not simply seem surprised, when you heard me call out your name. You also seemed upset." Again, Antonina's statement had the air of an accusation.

The mask was back in place. Rukaiya opened her lips, as if to speak. It was obvious, to Antonina, that the girl was about to utter some sort of denial. But, after a moment, Rukaiya lowered her head and murmured: "I was not upset, exactly. It would be a great honor, to become the wife of the negusa nagast. My family would be very proud. But-"

She paused, then raised her head. "I have enjoyed my life. I am very happy, in my father's house. My father is a cheerful man. Very kind, and very intelligent."

Rukaiya hesitated, groping for words. "I have always known, of course, that someday I would be married and have to leave for another man's house. And there is a part of me that looks forward to that day. But not-" She sighed unhappily. "Not so soon."

Her next words came out in a rush. The girl's face was full of life, now, and her hands gestured with animation.

"I don't know what I would do, in another man's house. I am so afraid of being bored. Especially if my husband was a severe man. Most husbands are very strict with their wives. Since I was ten years old, my father has let me help him with his work. He is one of Mecca's richest merchants, and he has many caravans. I keep track of most of his accounts, and I write almost all his letters, and-"

Antonina's jaw dropped. She didn't think there were more than two dozen women in all of Arabia-and they were invariably middle-aged widows-

"You can read?" she demanded.

Rukaiya's own jaw clamped shut. For an instant, her young face reminded Antonina of a mule. A beautiful mule, true, but just as stubborn and willful.

The expression was fleeting, however. Rukaiya lowered her head. Her quick-moving hands, once again, were demurely clasped in her lap.

"My father taught me," she said softly. "He insists that all women in his family must know how to read. He says that's because they might be widows, someday, and have to manage their husbands' affairs."

Again, the words started coming in a rush. "But I think he just says that to placate my mother. She doesn't like to read. Neither do my sisters. They say it's too hard. But I love to read, and so does my father. We have had so many wonderful evenings, talking about the things we have read in books. My father owns many books. He collects them. My mother complains because it's so expensive, but that's the one subject on which my father lays down the law in our house. Most of our books are Greek, of course, but we even have-"

She stopped talking, then, interrupted by Antonina's laughter. The laughter went on for quite a while. By the time Antonina finally stopped, wiping tears from her eyes, Rukaiya's expression of shock had faded into simple curiosity.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Antonina shook her head. "The negusa nagast of Ethiopia is one of the world's champion bibliophiles. His father, King Kaleb, amassed the largest library south of Alexandria in his palace at Axum. In all honesty, I don't think Kaleb himself actually read any of those books. But by the time Prince Eon was fifteen, he had read all of them. I remember, when he came to Rome, how many hours he spent with my friend Irene Macrembolitissa-she is the world's greatest bibliophile-"

Antonina fell silent, staring at the girl across from her. Again, tears welled up in her eyes, as she remembered a friend she thought she would never see again.

Oh God, child, how much you remind me of Irene.

Memory made the decision. Memory of another woman-intelligent, quick-witted, active-whose own life had been frustrated, so many times, by the world's expectations.

Fuck it. We have souls, too.

"You will be happy, Rukaiya," predicted Antonina. "And you will never, I promise you, be bored." Again, she wiped away tears; and, again, laughed.

"Not as that man's wife! Oh, no. You'll be keeping track of the King of King's accounts, Rukaiya, and writing his letters. He's building an empire and he's at war with the greatest power in the world. Soon enough, I think, you'll find yourself longing for a bit of tedium."

Finally, finally, the face across from her was nothing but that of a young girl. A virgin, barely sixteen years of age. Shy, anxious, uncertain, apprehensive, eager, curious-and, of course, more than a little avid.

"Is he-? Will he-?" Rukaiya fumbled, and fumbled.

"Yes, he will like you. Yes, he will be kind. And, yes, he will give you great pleasure."

Antonina rose and walked over. She took Rukaiya's face in her hands and fixed the girl's eyes with her own.

"Trust me, child. I know King Eon very well. Put aside all doubts and fears. You will enjoy being a woman."

Rukaiya was beaming happily, now. Just like a bride.