Shame of Man (24 page)

As if the thought of Minah affected things, the wind dropped, then changed. It gusted east, then veered south. There was a cheer from the oarsmen. It was sheer chance, he was sure, but Huuo made a small bow in the direction of the oarsmen, then retired to his cubby. He knew he was lucky that something ill had not happened.

“Nice job,” the captain said. “I didn't want to get delayed today, because things can get complicated after a battle, depending how it goes, and markets can tumble. I want to complete my deals in Gaza and be on my way before news of any kind comes.”

“News?”

“About the campaign against the Israelites.”

“Oh, yes,” Huuo agreed, remembering. “There was a levee from Mor. But I wouldn't call it a campaign, just a routine cleaning up. The hill folk can't compete with civilized forces.”

Ittai frowned. “You think not? That upstart they call king, David—he's a cunning one. That's the one who took out Goliath, remember. Now he's going for bigger prey.”

Huuo was surprised. “The lucky lad? I thought he was a musician, not a warrior.”

“The same. The little harpist. We put him on the throne of Israel, as a Philistine vassal, but now he's getting too big for his sandals and we have to take him out again. Remember, he learned warfare from us, from the years he served as our vassal. Achish, seren of Gath, trained him. So now the ungrateful lout will be using our own techniques against us. That's what makes him dangerous.”

Huuo nodded. “Dangerous, indeed! Those wild hill folk have always been an annoyance. But still, their resources can't compare to ours.”

“They took Jerusalem. That means they're more than rabble. This rebellion has to be ended before it gets awkward. Weird things can happen in the field.”

“You speak as if you've had experience.”

“Why do you think I'm wary of David? I was there at the battle of Ephes-Dammim, twenty years ago. We had the might to crush them, and should have done it, but the idiot generals agreed to a contest of champions. They figured no one could stand against Goliath. Then this sneaky shepherd used his sling to conk the champion on the forehead with a stone and felled him without ever coming close. I said then, may the gods
forgive us if we ever give that little turd another chance. I retired from soldering when my levee returned, and have been a shipper ever since. The sea has always been my first love. But I've kept track of David, and I know trouble when I see it. But do you think they'd ever listen to someone who was only a foot soldier? Mark me, we'll be finding out the hard way.”

“We surely will,” Huuo agreed, not wanting to argue the case with someone who was obviously highly opinionated.

Then there was a call from elsewhere on the ship, and the captain had to hurry away to get it straightened out.

The wind freshened, filling the sails, and the boat moved south at respectable speed. Huuo lay back. Now he could take his nap.

For a time his mind wandered. The captain had reminded him of the encounters with the organized factions of the hill folk. More of that scattered history was returning to his memory. He had studied music, of course, and so had picked up information about musicians. David the harpist, said to have been a talented player when young. That man was now a king? He must be, for the name matched: King David. It wouldn't be the first oddity associated with the hill folk. There had been the time the hill folk had the giant. Instead of the Philistine Goliath, there had been the Israelite Samson, claimed to be the strongest man in the world. He was supposed to have single-handedly slain thousands of Philistines, though his first wife was a Philistine. Of course that had been a considerable exaggeration, but he had made a nuisance of himself. So they had put Delilah on him, and she fathomed the secret of his strength, and after that they chained him, blinded him, and used him for stud. Maybe Goliath was Samson's descendant, no brighter than his ancestor, falling for the wiles of a woman or shepherd musician.

Huuo drifted asleep, his dream picking up where his conscious thoughts left off. After Samson, Saul had come on the scene, anointed the first king of Israel. Huuo found himself in the body of the soldier Ittai, when the Philistines fought a pitched battle with Saul's crude army of hill folk. They beat the Israelis, of course. But then the enemy brought forth their fetish object, the thing they called the Ark of the Covenant. That made the Philistines nervous, because even primitive spirits could make a lot of mischief for mortal men. But the general urged them to attack regardless, and while the mischief of the spirits was chancy, the wrath of the general was certain, and they waded in. They slaughtered the hill folk and took possession of the Ark, and that was a real coup, because the enemy didn't dare attack as long as their sacred chest of artifacts was hostage.

They took the Ark to the temple of Dagon at Ashdod and opened it up. Huuo, though no priest, was somehow able to look over a priest's shoulder to see inside. It was just a few scrolls and things, a motley collection of items of supposedly holy nature. But the Israelites believed in it, so it wasn't destroyed. That was a mistake, for Huuo's invisible eye saw something awful
seeping from it: the concentrated spirit of the hill folk, leaking out into the city. It squirmed its way into the sleeping bodies of the good citizens of Ashdod, and they turned dark and fevered and coughed their lives out onto the dirt.

So the authorities moved the Ark to the city of Gath—and of course the plague followed. Only Huuo, in his dream eye, could see the noxious spirit crawling in snakelike streamers from its crevices and seeking out the living people. So they moved the Ark to Ekron, and that city also suffered the ravages of the terrible plague.

Finally they realized what the nature of the problem was. So they returned the Ark, together with some token votive offerings, to the Israelites, and the plague ended. There was the lesson: never bring the enemy's spirit power into your home cities. Swords could slay physical enemies, but not malignant spirits.

And so Saul consolidated his new kingdom and harassed the civilized cities nearby. That was when they had to mount an expedition against him—and suffered the misfortune of the Goliath business.

At which point Huuo woke. Now he had a refreshed appreciation of the problem of the hill folk, and could almost believe Captain Ittai's dire concern about the current campaign. Those Israelites were slippery folk, and often luckier than they deserved.

The ship was pulling into Gaza. Huuo gathered his things and stood ready to disembark. The captain approached. “Thank you for your assistance; we are early.”

“Thank you for your interesting review of the Israeli campaign,” Huuo replied. “I hope I catch your ship on the return trip before any serious consequences appear.”

“That would be best,” Ittai agreed gravely.

A uniformed palace guard was waiting on the pier as Huuo accompanied Captain Ittai off the ship. He approached Huuo. “You are the musician? Seren Jaoch awaits you, sir.”

“Awaits me?” Huuo asked, surprised.

“See, I told you the local waters are kind,” the captain said wisely.

“But I'm only the flautist,” Huuo protested.

“Exactly,” the guard said. “Please accompany me to your place of honor at the palace.”

Bemused, Huuo followed the man off the pier to a sleek riding wagon drawn by a sleek horse. This was the kind of treatment accorded to visiting dignitaries; what was he doing here? He did not quite trust this.

They got in, and the guard drove the horse smartly along the road toward the walls of the main city of Gaza. This certainly was easier than walking, but still felt strange.

“I would not question Seren Jaoch's decisions,” Huuo said cautiously.

“But I am curious why an ordinary musician should be accorded such honor.”

The man glanced sidelong at him. “You really don't know?”

“I really don't know. I have not been treated this well elsewhere.”

“Seren Jaoch does not govern elsewhere.”

Huuo realized that the man was not going to tell him, so he let it be. He satisfied himself with a good look at the approaching city. Gaza was larger and wealthier than Mor, and it showed; the ramparts were significantly more formidable. And while in most cities there was an uneasy coalition of ruling lords, it seemed that Seren Jaoch was clearly dominant here. Surely he was a good man from whom to receive favor—and a bad one from whom to receive disfavor. Huuo would have preferred to enter this city unremarked, because a despot's favor and disfavor could be separated by very narrow lines.

The guards at the main gate waved them on in, evidently recognizing the horse and wagon. They moved through the aperture, and on down the central street of the city. The city inhabitants crowded back to give the wagon room. The stone and mud walls of the dwellings and shops passed behind almost in a blur; Huuo simply was not used to traveling this fast.

Then they were at the grand columns of the central palace. The horse came to a smart halt and servitors rushed up to help Huuo down to the pavement. As soon as he was clear, the horse, wagon, and palace guard moved away, leaving him to the servitors. These hustled him into the palace and to a lavish suite complete with obsequious male and female servants. Huuo knew there wasn't any point in asking them anything, so he suffered himself to be stripped and bathed and garbed in clean, elegant robes. That meant that he would soon learn why he was receiving such special treatment.

He was ushered to a small but extremely well appointed banquet hall. There stood a heavyset man who seemed no older than Huuo himself, reminding him vaguely of the captain, though this was clearly a far more important personage.

The man stepped forward to embrace him. “So good to meet you, Huuo the Musician,” he said. “I am Seren Jaoch.”

Huuo hastily bowed his head in submission to a royal presence. “I am honored, lord,” he said. “Yet I fear you take me for a far more important person than I am.”

“Importance is as it seems,” Jaoch replied. “You will eat with me, and we shall talk.”

So it was no mistake. But what did this powerful man want of this routine musician? The strangeness had not abated.

They sat at the table, and the scullery servants brought in platters of lambsmeat and sweetbreads, and vials of wines so rare that Huuo could not
identify them. There was nothing to do but eat well, hoping he was not in some way being fattened for slaughter.

But as he picked up his first morsel, he realized that Seren Jaoch was doing the same—with the same hand. He paused, assessing the implication.

Jaoch smiled. “Now you see it, musician. The hand.”

“You are like me,” Huuo agreed. “Left-handed.”

“And like you, I do not proclaim it, but those around me know. We need not discuss the reason.”

Indeed they did not. Huuo knew what Jaoch faced. For a man of power it was perhaps worse, because others were always scheming to diminish or pre-empt that power, and there was a stigma to the left side that could too readily provide them an opening.

“Captain Ittai remarked that these waters were kind to the left,” Huuo said. “I didn't understand his reference.”

“A man needs associates he can trust,” Jaoch said. “My key personnel are all of this persuasion.” He lifted his left hand momentarily. “They know that their positions would wither away without me. They support me with extraordinary loyalty.”

Huuo nodded. No threats would be required; left-handers were normally discriminated against. Only when the leader was similarly inclined could they rise to prominence. “I am sure they do,” Huuo said.

“But I lack one thing,” Jaoch said. “It is my misfortune to suffer occasionally from insomnia. Sometimes my lovely mistress, also left-sided, gives me solace. Sometimes music. However—”

Suddenly it came into focus. “You have no left-handed musician! No one you can trust in your sleeping presence.”

“Exactly. And you are acclaimed as the finest musician in Philistia.”

“Oh, I would hardly make such a claim,” Huuo demurred. “There are many who—”

“Of your persuasion of hands.”

Huuo nodded. “That, perhaps. But—”

“Tomorrow is the day of the festival,” Jaoch said. “I'm sure the music will be as fine as the rest of it. But tonight I will ask you to play only for me. I would like to hear for myself whether you are as good as your reputation.”

“Of course I will play for you,” Huuo agreed warmly. But behind the warmth was a chill. If he played as well as he could, he would confirm his reputation, and then Seren Jaoch might want him to stay here. But how could he ever play less than his best? That simply was not his way.

They finished the excellent meal, and Jaoch was a companionable host. But imperfectly concealed beneath that geniality was more than a hint of iron. At one point a subordinate entered with news of the capture of a wanted criminal. “Execute him this night, and leave his body for the birds,” Jaoch said, and continued eating without pause. The lord of the city was
perhaps deliberately showing the visitor two sides of himself: the best of friends, the worst of enemies.

Then Huuo fetched his double flute, and played several melodies of increasing intricacy. He tried to restrain himself, to avoid the prettiest, but his nature would not allow it. Seren Jaoch was a very good audience, showing real appreciation for nuance as well as directness, and his responses led Huuo into his best.

When Huuo paused, Jaoch made a small demonstration. “Play one more tune,” he murmured, “and walk to the door as you do. See what you see in the adjacent chamber.”

Perplexed, Huuo obeyed. When he came to the doorway, he saw seven or eight servants and guards standing there. When they saw him, they quickly dispersed, except for the one guard who was evidently supposed to be there.

Huuo returned to his place as he finished the melody. “I saw your household staff,” he said.

“So I thought. They overheard the music, and were compelled by it, and remained to hear it all. That was not by my command, so I know that their judgment echoes mine: if you are not the finest, you are surely close to it. Your reputation is well earned.”