Tales of the Zodiac - The Goat's Tale (15 page)

It is only as Brother Gemin escorts me up from the gaol that I realise I have actually been imprisoned on the small, palatial island the whole time. This perhaps explains the relatively luxurious environs that I was exposed to whilst inside. Once I am outside the immediate vicinity of the dungeon, everything suddenly becomes incredibly ornate. Even the golden, jewel-encrusted bannister of the spiral staircase leading out of the gaol would be the most decorative feature in the whole of my own kingdom. The floors are made from marble that is both whiter and purer than I had ever conceived imaginable. The rough white surfaces of the stone palace at Tallakarn, seemingly impressive in themselves, suffer badly in comparison.

“This is the Sun Palace, home of our beloved ruler,” says Brother Gemin as we move across the vastness of the reception hall. It is a room filled with paintings and sculptures, all of the same man – tall, pale, lithe, bearded - in various grand poses. It is the man I am assuming is this so-called ‘Son of God’.

Other than these sculptures and paintings, there are also a number of large potted plants. Almost all of them are a dark and luscious green, suggesting the kind of fertility that could never be supported in Tallakarn. The room is full of the most wonderful light, pouring in from stained windows in the roof and walls. Once again, all these windows are variations on a theme: that man again, the Son of God. There is so much to take in that I don't immediately notice the almost inordinate number of servants. They buzz around the brightness of the hall, cleaning and polishing everything in sight with a zealous fervour.

“It’s very impressive. I have never seen anything like it,” I say, in the absence of any more interesting compliment.

“Oh, it is highly certain that you’ve never seen anything like it. This is for definite,” he replies. Outside the darkness of my cell, it is now clear that Brother Gemin has a slight squint. It doesn’t, though, appear to hinder his vision. As we walk past, each servant stops whatever task they are doing in order to bow before Brother Gemin. He takes very little notice of this, other than a slight smile to each.

“I notice that the servants bow before you. Should I have done the same?”

“Ha ha ha. These people are not servants. They work gladly for Our Saviour for free. It is the will of God that they should do so,” he replies. 

“So they are slaves?”

“Slaves? I have not heard this word. But, yes, they bowed to me also. Because I am the right hand of Our Saviour. For you, it is certain that it is all right that you did not bow. It is not needed. Now, if you will relax. Our Saviour waits for you behind these doors,” he smiles reassuringly. His doubts about my devilish alliances seem to have disappeared almost as quick as they arrived.

It’s hard to imagine the size of the trees from which the doors in front of me must have been produced. Each of them stands fifteen metres high by six metres long. The handles and hinges are all, rather predictably, forged from gold. A giant sun composed of gold leaf sits is gilded on to the middle of the door. The parts that aren’t covered with gold are inlaid with red and orange jewels that glitter in the incredible light of the entrance hall.

Two men, naked except for their full helmets and pouches, guard the door with their golden halberds. As we approach, they step aside and push the doors inward. Suddenly, my nostrils fill with the scent of sweet, spicy perfume.

I know immediately that I must be inside the great dome of the palace. Once again, it is the light within the room that steals my attention. Entering through stained windows beneath the golden dome itself, it arrives at such a multitude of angles and colours as to be almost magical. Shafts of light intersect the room so vividly that they almost seem to be physical objects. The largest shaft of light, a brilliant yellow beam, enters from a window at the very top and centre of the dome. Beneath the shaft, completely immersed in the light, sits a man whom I immediately assume to be the person I am here to see. The intensity of light obscures him from vision so completely that I am unable to see what he looks like. It can’t be comfortable for him, and I can only assume he is sitting there for visual effect.

His voice booms out from the throne. It is so loud and powerful that it reverberates around the dome. It doesn’t sound like a human voice and I tremble involuntarily at its power. I notice now that the wall of the dome is lined with slaves, all standing to attention, equally placed around the walls. A grey-haired woman, dressed in blue and white, sits to the side of the throne. From my position, she is also behind it. On her chest is an emblem, a sea turtle.

“Step forward,” says Brother Gemin. I take a couple of paces towards the throne. The floor is white marble, covered in swirling patterns that interplay brilliantly with the light reflecting from it. As I approach, the voice booms out again and I stop.

“I bid you much welcome into my home, stranger. Had you taken me into your heart?” says Brother Gemin, clearly interpreting his god’s language directly. He is standing somewhere off to my right, masked by shadow.

“I’ve only just met you but I hope that soon I shall… Er… God. I must say that your home is beautiful,” I reply, as tactfully as I can, glad that my language will mask my stuttering insincerity. Brother Gemin translates and there is a brief second of silence before the response.

“Thank you, stranger. It is clear that I projected my desires through the genius of Brother Gemin. What tribute have you bought for me?” Brother Gemin interprets.

I do not understand why this should be such an important question for an apparently all-powerful being, an entity who already has everything. It also puts me on the spot somewhat. Gemin gave me no indication that He would be expecting a gift.

“I have brought you myself, God. I have walked halfway across the world to see you. I also bring you an offer,” I reply, quietly pleased with my quick thinking. Gemin passes the message on once again before the voice replies.

“What is this offer?”

“To return with me to my homeland. To allow my people to bask in your glory also. It would be an absolute honour, God.”

This time, the gap between the translation and the response is much longer. There appears to be a quiet interaction between the man, immersed in light, and the woman seated behind him. Although they are at a distance and speaking a foreign language, I sense that there is disagreement between them. I note some gesticulations through the blinding golden light that consumes him. After some deliberation, his reply is an angry one. The anger of the ‘God’ seems to almost shake the walls of the dome as his reply booms back towards me.

“It is clear that you had asked for a favour rather than tribute given. Why do you dare to do so?” states Brother Gemin who, through the mildness of his tone, loses the anger to translation.

“I apologise if I caused you any offence, God. I had wished to pay you tribute by introducing you to the love of my people,” I reply.

Again though, this seems to provoke nothing but anger. I sense his wrath from the sudden movements that he makes; he is waving his arms and cursing rapidly.

All of a sudden, one of the slaves behind me bursts into flames. He falls to the floor, screaming and bawling. The sound fills me with mortal dread. I daren’t look. Not a single person in the room moves a muscle to help him. Instead, the dome floods with the smell of burning flesh and screams of agony. It is only as the screams subside into whimpers that Brother Gemin speaks again.

“It is clear that you have certainly just witnessed my power. God has not travelled to his people. His people would travel to him. If your people had been righteous, they would already know me. Have you accepted me into your heart?”

I am unsure how to react. The smell of death hovers heavily in the air. The choice of burning, such a visceral, lingering way to die, has certainly had its desired effect. God or not, this is certainly someone to be afraid of.

“I am in awe of your mighty power, great God,” I reply, dropping to my knees. “I apologise for my stupidity. I am clearly not worthy to be in your presence. If I have caused you any offence then please understand that it was not my intention.”

Face to the floor, I grit my teeth. The slave’s death has indicated to me the fragile thread on which my life hangs. I am not at all safe here. In this instant, all I want is to be able to return home. Having heard Brother Gemin’s response, his voice booms out once again. The anger, I think, has dissipated.

“You have made progress, stranger. But I do not think it is certain that it is yet clear enough. I ask that you stay with us for some time longer. I must inspect you another time.”

“Thank you, merciful God.”

“What is merciful?” Brother Gemin whispers to me, perhaps unable to translate it.

“Someone who is kind when they need not be.”

“Ha ha ha. ‘Merciful’. It is clear that this is a good word,” he replies, before translating it to his god.

Following this translation, the man waves his hand towards me in a dismissive gesture. I wince a little, noting that the gesture was not entirely dissimilar from the one he used to set the slave on fire. Thankfully, nothing happens on this occasion. Brother Gemin takes me kindly by the arm and escorts me out. For the briefest of seconds, I consider running away, but pragmatism stops me; I dread to think how far I would have to hobble to find safety.

As we exit back into the main hall, Brother Gemin looks at me with a smile.

“It is clear that Our Saviour loves you,” he beams.

“Really? He didn’t seem especially keen,” I reply.

“Oh, He loves you. It is certain,” he answers, his smile unbroken. As with Morrigan, the man has a tendency to smile an awful lot. The difference between them, however, is that Brother Gemin’s smile seems entirely sincere, the kind of smile that is derived from nothing but good-natured kindness. Morrigan, meanwhile, derives his smile from almost perpetual amusement. That difference notwithstanding, the similarity is enough to remind me of my missing partner.

“What has happened to my partner, Morrigan?” I ask, as we walk back across the marbled entrance hall.

“Our Saviour loved your Morrigan very much and your Morrigan loved Him. The Crow has been freed to fly gladly amongst the people of Brightstone. It is clear that he will fight for him, gladly.”

“Pah. Typical,” I reply, my face twisting in involuntary bitterness. I can clearly imagine Morrigan in the situation I was just in. I remember his charm, his easy manner, his casual sycophancy, his adaptable morality. It’s situations like that that slime like him was made for.

“Ha ha ha. It would not seem ordinary for you to find this fact not happy?” Brother Gemin probes, his pink eyes narrowing once more in the light of the entrance hall

“No, no, it’s good that he is fine,” I reply.

“So, for yourself, it is clear that now you must return to your cell. Is there anything further you require? If it is clear that there is then I can make it for you gladly.”

“There is one thing. I would like to learn your language. And I would like to teach you mine so that you can speak it properly. At the moment, it is still not quite right.”

“Ha ha ha. Gladly. I did think similar things myself. It is clear that this would be a good idea.”

I try my best to use the three months of confinement in a productive manner. As I had always suspected would be the case, I do not find the experience as unpleasant as other people might. There are several reasons for this.

Firstly, I still have a clear objective: to return home. As long as I have an objective, my mind will stay fresh and hungry. In the same way that a dog will stare fixedly, licking its lips, at an unreachable bone, I do not tire of thinking about my return. Not a day goes by where I don’t imagine how it will feel to see the fat king’s face once more.

Secondly, I have a plan. This involves nothing more than swallowing a little pride. It has gradually become clear that all I must do is massage the ego of the madman currently holding me prisoner. I will tell him anything: that I love him, that I am his eternal servant, anything, in order to bring about my release. Once I am released, it will be nothing to find Morrigan and to begin the journey home. Granted, the journey home will be difficult, but we have already proved that it is not impossible. Much like having an objective, the development of a plan keeps my mind active and means that I am never short of something to consider.

A third thread allowing me to hold on to my sanity is the daily routine that I have developed. I have never shied away from structure and, here in the confines of my cell, I have the facility to improve myself in almost every way. I am learning the Bright-tongue – the native language of Brightstone – I am writing a journal and, furthermore, I am able to keep myself as fit and agile as I like. Every day, I spend hours and hours working on the rehabilitation of my knee. Sometimes, I force it to bend into the most painful position and hold it there. Other times, I flex it back and forth repeatedly, desperate to bring back the flexibility.

Also part of my routine is the time that I spend with Brother Gemin. Although he is not necessarily doing it for my benefit, the man’s insatiable lust for knowledge brings him to my cell on a daily basis. The more time I spend with him, the more I realise that he is much less of an idiot than he originally appeared. His friendliness and awkward use of language had me fooled almost completely.

It takes him only a few days to completely remove all foreign idiosyncrasies from his speech. When I compare his rapid mastery of my language to my slow and stumbling development of his, I cannot help but be slightly embarrassed. Nevertheless, he encourages me forward in my learning with a great deal of charm and encouragement.

His linguistic ability is just one of the things that I’ve noticed about the man’s quicksilver mind. His memory is nothing short of miraculous; the amount of detail he has picked up from conversations about my life, about Tallakarn, about my journey here, makes it seem almost as though he has seen and experienced my entire life alongside me.

I also discover that, as an albino, his eyes are extremely sensitive to light. Where, for most people, this would be a disadvantage, I have a suspicion that, for him, it is a strength. I suspect this because he seems to not only have extraordinarily heightened senses but also appears, visually, to miss very little. This, he states, is because, although he cannot see colour, he has learned to compensate by close attention to shapes and shadows. He is both open and humble when it comes to his affliction - ‘God giveth and God taketh away. Babies like me are usually cast into the wilderness. I am lucky to be here.’

It is rapidly becoming clear that this man plays a very similar role to ‘Our Saviour’ as Lady Vesta does to my own king. They are both savants. The main difference between them, however, is that Brother Gemin is a much more charming individual than his stone-faced counterpart at Tallakarn.

As the months pass, we share much in the way of our kingdom’s histories. I learn a great deal about the development of Brightstone during this time. It is surprising for me to learn that the kingdom used to be much larger than it now is, ranging much further south across the forested islands – Crow Island, Oak Island, Green Island and Stone Island – that now stand virtually deserted.

The increasing organisation of the snow savages has driven them right back, almost back to the seat of their power on the smaller northern islands. Attacks on the fort at Crow Island, the gate through which I entered, have become more and more frequent in recent months.

As for the riches – the precious metals and the gemstones - that are so rare back in Tallakarn, Brother Gemin explains to me that many of these are relics discovered at the height of their civilisation. The substance that he calls ‘canteva’ is the rarest of all these relics and the more I learn of it, the more convinced I am that it is the substance that the people of Tallakarn call ‘plastic’. Much more of the substance has been discovered here than back home and various imperial artefacts have been crafted from it.  Most of these discoveries and designs were made hundreds of years ago when the empire of Brightstone was expanding.

This time period, known locally as the ‘Age of Heroes’, was brought to an abrupt end when they entered into conflict with the snow folk. Brother Gemin is quick to point out that the people of Brightstone feel very much as though they brought the war on themselves, through their avarice. The snow folk, he claims, are their punishment from God for their sinful ways, for attempting to reach beyond their rightful borders. This mentality, common throughout the islands, is that of a people who have learned a difficult lesson. This God-fearing nature is also reflected in everything Brother Gemin tells me about their attempted explorations.

“It is God’s will that we do not leave our homeland. There is nothing but frozen death on our borders. And the ocean? The ocean is a wild and hungry place. A man does not need to sail far to discover this. In my lifetime, only one boat has sailed north and returned. The crew’s discovery? Sand! They sailed for weeks… most of the crew died. And for what?! Sand! No. God created this paradise for us. Everywhere else is ice and sand.”

It was, I understand, in response to these setbacks that the people truly began to immerse themselves in Scripture. Like a scolded hound, they began to beg forgiveness from their deity, The Sun (they believe that the sun is the eye of God himself). The emperor, believing that God had rendered him barren, began to truly embrace religion and kindly encouraged all his subjects to follow in his footsteps. 

And they did. More people than ever turned to the priesthood. Some groups of people went even further, isolating themselves in convents to ensure that they remained untainted by the sins of their empire. It was also around this time, as the empire began to recede, that the first whispers of the Son of God’s arrival on earth began to emerge. The people were so certain of his arrival that they began to build the Sun Palace years before he was born.

Lord Leo, Son of the Sun, is the human manifestation of God. Of that, Brother Gemin assures me, there can be no doubt. It is at this stage in their Holy Story that the similarities with Christianity truly begin. Indeed, the similarities are so great as to seem almost cynical. I quite simply can’t believe that, as Brother Gemin suggests, the people of Brightstone have no knowledge of The Bible.  For instance, Leo was conceived by a miracle: the impregnation of a virgin woman by the Sun itself. The fortunate virgin who received this blessing was a lady known as Mother Maryam who, even before the miracle, was one of the most influential convent leaders in the empire. Brother Gemin tells me that God chose well and that she is surely the most pious woman in the entire world.

At the announcement of Leo’s birth, the childless emperor abdicated and, in his wisdom, allowed a day-old baby to ascend the throne. Mother Maryam, the lady in blue whom I had seen behind the throne, ruled in his stead until his human form was ready. This did not take long. He was five years old when she stood aside.

As intriguing as the whole topic is, I do not find that I can talk to Brother Gemin about it for too long before I begin to get angry with him. It all sounds like lunacy. My conversation with Lady Vesta, and her revelations on the cynical games played by those in power, hangs heavy on me as the affable albino recounts the affair. I think he takes me for a fool. Would he, as a bona fide genius, accept this story if it were I telling it to him?

Why would God choose, of all people, an already powerful woman to have his child? Why would the emperor simply stand aside? How could a five-year-old child have the sense to govern? Does it not occur to him that, if a people decide to build a palace for an incoming God, it is inevitable that someone will come along with a claim to fill it? I am insulted that he thinks I will not notice these inconsistencies and, as the weeks move on, I become more and more doubtful that even he really believes the story he is telling.

The sad truth, however, is that I have no choice but to accept this version of reality. The man is not, I must remember, a friend or a confidante. Instead, he is merely a tool that I must manipulate in order to bring about my release – the key to my cell door. It is for this reason that I do not push him on the inconsistencies and convenient contrivances of this most hole-ridden of holy stories. Instead, when I feel my exasperation building, I simply bite my tongue and change the subject.

It is by changing the subject that I have also learned that there are four of us whom were sent out from Tallakarn that have managed to find our way to Brightstone. This was something that Brother Gemin had previously alluded to when we discussed how it was he had come to speak my language. Two brothers, Owain Ap Tomos and Ioan Ap Tomos, somehow navigated the journey around the ice-packed southern coast in a boat. This strategy meant that they avoided the violent northern sea and, along with it, the certain death that awaits anyone daring to traverse it. Brother Gemin tells me often that they are both fascinating men whom I should look forward to meeting. I am led to understand that they currently live near Morrigan on the island of Brightstone itself.

I am so immersed in learning the culture, the history, the language of this new world that my incarceration scarcely seems to affect me. In fact, I actually prefer my human interaction to be rationed in this quite manageable way. It’s true that I have the odd pang of longing to see my father, the odd bout of desperation to return home, but I calm these worries with assurances. I promise myself that one day I
will
find my way back. Occasionally, I think of Shara. Less frequently, I think of Morrigan. I am surprised to realise that I miss them both.