Shame of Man (38 page)

She was taken aback. “You don't deserve me? But I am the one who has been compromised. I was captive of a man who desired me.”

“And forced you,” Hucar said. “But you can not be blamed for that.”

“He didn't get to that. But he threatened to kill the children if I didn't submit. And I resolved to submit, rather than—”

“Of course you did,” he said. “You would do anything to save the
children, and I would not have it otherwise. But I did not have any such excuse. I thought that you and the children were already—”

“So nothing remained to hold your loyalty.”

“But then I learned that you were alive, and I lay with her again.”

She was silent a moment. Her body was abruptly tense. She had finally discovered his point. But she didn't give up. “Why?”

“Because you were not yet free.”

There was another pause. Then she relaxed. “If I had lain with Zabub, lest he kill Chipu, would you condemn me?”

“No! But—”

“And if you lay with Scilla, lest her brother kill me, should I condemn you?”

His guilt began to thin. “But she—I—”

“She was good at it?”

“Yes.”

“I can not think of any man who would not enjoy being in her arms. But did you love her?”

“No. But—”

“You did what I was prepared to do. You said you would not condemn me. So do you condemn yourself?”

“There is more,” he said tightly.

Her body tensed again, then relaxed; she was learning control. “What more?”

“She—when I knew you were safe, and was about to kill her—”

“You killed her?” Anice asked, horrified.

“No. Because she said she—she carried my child.”

At last she appreciated the whole of it. “Oh, my.”

They were silent for some time.

At last Anice spoke again. “That woman is beautiful, but she would lie to gain advantage, and certainly to save herself. You threatened to kill her. She knew how to protect herself. So perhaps you were a fool. But it clarifies how you felt about her.”

“Yes.”

“I am glad there is no such blood on your hands. Let's yield this night to this discussion, and let it be forgotten tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” he said, much relieved.

They kissed, diffidently, and lay back. It did not take them long to sleep.

Hucar woke to Anice's kiss. It was dark, with only the wan suggestion of false dawn. “It is tomorrow,” she whispered.

For a moment he was confused. Then he took her meaning. They had agreed to leave his guilt behind with the prior day. There would be no more discussion of it. She had paid him the compliment of approaching him early
rather than late. His love for her swelled explosively. He clasped her, and this time his potency was phenomenal. They had resolved their separation, in the closest way.

Just in time, for the moment the first glow of color showed across the sea, the children scrambled to join them. “You made up!” Minih exclaimed happily.

Hucar exchanged a silent look with Anice. That child was eerie!

The ship had made good time, and soon approached the harbor of New Carthage. They disembarked, and the slave followed.

The city was huge, compared to Baria, with people thronging the streets. All four of them gazed around in wonder. There certainly should be a good market here for the skills of a competent musician and dancer.

They made their way to the court of Hasdrubal. “Ah, Hucar!” the official at the entrance said. “And your family, all safe. The general wants to talk with you about that plot, to be sure complete justice has been done. He is at the altar now; you can see him the moment he is through.”

It was not surprising that General Hasdrubal was at worship. Religion was extremely important to civilized Carthaginians, and the many gods were constantly consulted and propitiated. Most of the ceremonies that Hucar and Anice performed at were religious in nature.

They followed the official, and the slave followed them, being part of their party. They came to an elegant temple annex, where there was a massive silver altar to Baal Hammon and Tanit, the leading male and female gods. Baal Hammon was nominally the most powerful one, but Tanit, as his wife and the Earth Mother, was perhaps the one most worshipped, and certainly she received the greatest number of human child sacrifices, the most valuable kind. Foreigners tended not to understand this aspect of worship, but the fact was that while small commercial offerings sufficed on a day to day basis, blood was required for ceremonial occasions, so animal sacrifices were standard. That was the
mulk ‘immor,
a lamb or kid. But when there was a very special event, the goddess required a very special offering, and there was nothing more precious than an innocent human being. Thus the
mulk ba'al,
the sacrifice of a child. Hucar understood and accepted this, but had been privately relieved when his own children passed beyond the age limit.

They waited beside a statue of Baal Hammon, in the aspect of a bearded man flanked by a bull and an eagle. Through the archway Hucar saw the general kneeling at the altar. Such devotions could not be hurried; they had to be done according to form, lest the gods be affronted.

“That is Hasdrubal?” the slave inquired.

“Yes,” Hucar agreed absently. Surely it was time for the slave to go home, having delivered them safely to this site.

Minih screamed. Then the slave drew a wickedly long knife and charged into the sacred chamber.

“What—?” Hucar started.

“Stop him!” Minih cried.

Guards appeared from hidden crevices and ran after the slave. But they were too late. The slave dived at the kneeling man and plunged his knife into the general's neck. Blood spurted.

Then the first guard caught up. With one smart chop he split the slave's head and face into halves. The slave fell, dead. But General Hasdrubal was also dead.

Hucar and Anice exchanged a stare of absolute horror. They had brought that slave! He was an impostor, on a mission of Iberian vengeance. He hadn't cared about his own life, as long as he killed Hasdrubal. He had achieved vengeance for the execution of his chief.

What had they done?

When General Hasdrubal was assassinated in Iberia, in revenge for his execution of an Iberian chief, Hamilcar's son Hannibal was given the buckler and sword of Carthaginian leadership at the age of twenty-four. He had already served six years as a highly ranked military commander under his brother-in-law. He was well regarded by his troops, had a brilliant military mind, was an outstanding horseman, and as a soldier he excelled in all facets of the military existence. He dressed as simply as his troops, and had an Iberian wife. But he was of a more hawkish disposition than Hasdrubal. So perhaps it is not surprising that he led Carthage into the second Punic War with the powerful city-state of Rome, and consistently defeated the Roman armies, even in Italy itself, for fifteen years. The second Punic War lasted from 218 to 202
B.C.,
when Rome finally prevailed by attacking Carthage in Africa, forcing Hannibal to return to fight on ground chosen by the Romans. But even when Carthage was later destroyed, the Phoenician presence and culture remained along the southern Mediterranean region for centuries, as part of the Roman Empire.

CHAPTER 13

YAYOI

At the southern tip of Japan, where it most closely approaches the peninsula of Korea, on the island of Kyushu, about thirty miles south of the modern city of Fukuoka, an ancient site is being excavated. This is Yoshinogari, a settlement once fortified by wooden fences and ditches, enclosed by a moat more than 900 meters long. It may have been the capital of the state of Yamatai, dominant in the Yayoi culture of 300
B.C.
to
A.D.
300. This is important in Japanese history because it was the time when the practice of growing rice in wet paddy fields developed. Rice was to dominate Asiatic food production for the following millennium and a half.

For three-quarters of a century Yamatai was ruled by kings, and was torn by wars and civil disturbances. Finally the people chose a queen instead: Himiko. She ushered in a period of peace and prosperity. She also practiced international diplomacy by sending an envoy to Korea requesting an audience with the Chinese emperor. The great Han Empire had by then fragmented, but its successor state in the northeast had considerable power. This mission occurred in
A.D.
239.

H
YU shook his head as he emerged from the paddy. This life was wearing him down, physically and spiritually. He was a musician, not a farmer. But what could he do? He was lucky even to be alive. He wore the tattoos of an elite entertainer, but his loss of status had brought him and his family to the lowest level.

It was dusk, and they had put in another grueling day weeding the rice. Hyu's feet were dirty and swollen in their wooden clogs, and his hands felt raw. He had a backache from the continual leaning over required. Ani and the children were no better off. They had gone from a fairly easy life-style to the most wearing life-style, and it weighed on them all.

Ani emerged from the muck and flashed him a smile. How he loved her in that moment—and always. She never complained about their situation, but simply made the best of it. But he hated to see her filthy and bent over. Her once-lustrous hair was now a dull braided mat. Instead of powder on her face and paint on her body to enhance her beauty, she now wore the caking of mud. She was a dancer, who should be making her exquisitely choreographed motions in a temple. How could such beauty be reduced to such a life?

Ten-year-old Chipo and eight-year-old Mini waded out of the paddy, and stood in their clogs on the land between fields. The paddies were below the normal ground level, divided by earthen embankments which served both as barriers to control the water flow and as paths. Now all the laborers were walking back toward the village, ready to eat and sleep and drag themselves up before dawn for the next long day.

An overseer came on a routine check of the fields. Hyu, Ani, and the children quickly stepped off the path to make way, and kneeled humbly until the man passed, in the prescribed manner for the lowly. The man was one Hyu knew, but he did Hyu the favor of pretending not to recognize him. Loss of status was a shameful thing. Hyu had considered killing himself, but Ani would not allow it; they had after all been blameless, the victims of bad fortune. She believed that in time the spirits would relent, and allow them to recover status.

Not far away were the palisades protecting the moat that surrounded the main village. Tall watchtowers rose inside it, so that the guards could get early news of any enemy's approach. The raised storage silos were in there,
and the larger houses of the elite class. Of the men who could afford to have two or three or even more wives. In fact, the most important center of the village was additionally shielded by a water-filled ditch buttressed by two parallel wooden walls. But Hyu's family did not go there. Plebeians lived outside the defenses.

They passed a small grove of mulberry trees whose leaves were reserved for the valuable silk worms. But neither Hyu nor any member of his family wore silk; they could afford no better than long grasses and cotton for their clothing.

Hyu's house was made from thatch which sloped all the way to the ground. Above it was a second roof, whose thatch served to protect the house from the strong daytime sun; this shading had a significant cooling effect, and made the house a relative pleasure to be in. The second roof also helped keep the rain of storms out, so that there was not too much dripping inside.

Inside were four wooden posts. In the center was a clay pit hearth. A raised earthen bench supported by rough cut wood marked off the edge of the living area. This acted as a shelf for storage, as a seat, and as a barrier to water that seeped beneath the thatch. The house they had had before their cruel demotion had had wooden walls, was considerably larger, and had distinct rooms. But this one had to settle for flimsy room dividers.

Ani got to work making a fire and cooking a fish for supper, while Hyu brought out his bamboo flute and played a melancholy tune. The children fetched a basin with water and washed up. When they were clean and fed and in bed, Hyu and Ani would wash and talk a bit before sinking into their own resigned slumber.

“Why is it like this?” Chipo demanded rhetorically, trying to pick a quarrel with his sister as they used their fingers to pick out pieces of fish from their wooden bowls.

But no one could quarrel with Mini against her will. “It doesn't have to be,” she replied.

“Just because we happened to be near when the stupid king died,” Chipo said. “When they knew we didn't do it.”

“Had they not known that, they would have slain us all,” Mini reminded him.

“So they punish us anyway. Where's the sense in that?”

Hyu paused in his playing. “We are tainted by proximity,” he explained. “There is nothing to be done about it.”

“Mini said it doesn't have to be,” Chipo reminded them.

That was true. “Why did you say that, Mini?” Hyu asked.

“I just know.”

Hyu would have dismissed that, but for his daughter's uncanny certainty about things for which there was no natural explanation. But she couldn't
answer questions that were not properly couched. “Is there something we can do to restore our social standing?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

He couldn't ask what, because that would leave her blank. But he might narrow it down. “Is there someone to whom we might apply for reprieve?”

“Yes.”

And he couldn't ask who; that was too direct. But he was beginning to hope that there was something there. “An important person?”

“Yes.” Mini answered immediately, without thought. That was the way it had to be, because doubt was a human quality, and what they sought was an answer from the spirits.

“A man?”

“No.”

Now he was close enough to gamble. There was only one really important woman. “Queen Himiko?”

“Yes.”

“But she won't talk to any man,” Chipo protested. “She has a thousand maidservants, but only one man, and all he does is carry messages in and out of her quarters.” He did not say what others did: that Queen Himiko was of mature years and unmarried; she evinced no personal interest in any man, and probably kept that one man mainly as a way to communicate messages to other leaders who were disdainful of women. Her whole effort seemed to be to avoid quarrels, even about the place of women.

Mini shrugged, not debating it.

“Maybe if your mother went to plead our case—”

“No.”

Suddenly it came to him. “The queen is adept in shamanistic knowledge! She understands the spirits. And we have one here who—”

“Yes,” Mini said, smiling. She had not understood it herself until he led her to it, but she recognized its truth.

“I wonder,” Ani said thoughtfully as she brought a bowl offish to Hyu. “If she gained an audience with the queen, and begged for some way to erase the cloud on our name—”

“Is there any harm in trying?” Hyu asked.

“No,” Mini said. “She will agree.”

There was no further discussion, but the matter was not forgotten. Mini's insights usually were correct in essence if not in detail. She had feared disaster for the family before it happened, without being able to define its nature, and it had come; now she anticipated relief.

When the children were in bed, Hyu removed his soiled headband and dropped his loincloth, and Ani slipped her dirty dress off over her head. She stood naked for a moment, glancing at him in a tacit query, but he looked away, not requiring sex this night. She was as lovely as ever, but they
were both simply too tired. They washed their bodies, and then Ani rinsed their clothing and hung it up near the dying fire to dry during the night.

Hyu took her hand as she joined him in bed. “I would do anything to deliver you from this,” he murmured.

“There is no need, as long as I am with you,” she replied.

His love swelled and seemed to overflow the house itself. “If you are not the best wife a man could have, I can not imagine a better one.”

She kissed him. “With you, I feel like the best.”

Nevertheless, he hoped that Mini was right about their obtaining deliverance from the queen.

So it was that a few days later Ani took Mini to the royal house and begged an audience for the child. Hyu knew that if Mini managed to navigate the bureaucratic curtains and actually talk to the queen, she would make an impression. For in this respect Mini was unique: she really did relate well to the spirits. Hyu suspected that had Mini not been with them when the king died, their whole family would have been slain out of hand. But one deep look in the child's face was enough to give any person pause—particularly anyone who had more than incidental rapport with the spirit realm.

The queen had deeper rapport than anyone. She would be amazed when she met Mini. Hyu wished he could be there to watch, but of course that was impossible.

In due course Mini emerged from the house, and Ani brought her home. “What did she say!” Chipo demanded.

“Nothing,” Mini said complacently.

“But—”

“But she listened.”

It was not long before they learned how well the queen had listened. A lesser male official came to their house and spoke gruffly to Hyo. “The queen needs a man with mourning cloth for an extremely important mission. Are you that man?”

Hyu felt a chill. But there was only one feasible answer. “I am.”

“Follow me.”

And with that, without time even for preparation or parting from his beloved family, Hyu left his home to report for a mission from which he might never return.

The ship was not intended for the open sea, but was the best that the queendom of Yamatai had. It carried as its cargo two ranking officials as envoys, four male slaves, six female slaves, and two rolls of fine cloth. And as protection from the spirits, one keeper of taboos: Hyu. He was forbidden to wash himself, comb his hair, rid himself of fleas, eat meat, or have contact with the opposite sex. He ate alone, and from the scraps left by others. He
did no physical work, and seldom spoke to anyone else. His only task was to give the spirits his utmost devotion, so as to win their approval of the mission. If he failed, and things went wrong, he would be assumed to have been remiss. But if things went right, his reward would be great: the complete restoration of his status. The tainted reputation of his family would be forgotten, expunged from the records and from all human speech as a vile temporary error.

Mini believed he would be successful. But Mini was still a child, albeit an exceptional one already verging on beauty. She might have misunderstood the spirits. Still, the auspices were good; the bones of an ox had been baked, and Queen Himiko herself had read the pattern of the cracks the fire made in the bones. The presence of Hyu was the last incentive for success; he had excellent reason to desire it, and would influence the spirits on the venture's behalf if he possibly could. So the queen believed, and he hoped she was as correct about his influence as about his motivation.

The wind was fair and firm. It bore the ship northwest toward the enormous mainland of China. This was a good initial sign, for the spirits controlled the winds. But the spirits could be fickle, teasing mortals with favorable indications, then dashing their hopes. There was far more than mere traveling involved; if the emperor of China rejected the overture, they could all be doomed. The mission would not be done until they returned successfully.

They made it to the first interim island on the first day, and docked in a comfortable harbor for the night. The men made a bonfire on the shore, and the girl slaves entertained them with an appealing and suggestive dance. But that was as far as it went; these women were virgins, and would remain so until presented to the emperor.

Hyu, being a musician, was allowed to play for the dance. That was a pleasure, for him and for the others, because he was good at it, and had not played at any ceremony for some time. He hoped this was a signal of continuing success.

The scraps he was left were unusually generous this time. Protocol required that he dine on nothing better, but protocol could be bent if the leaders of the party allowed it. The envoys turned their backs, officially not noticing.