The Big Fisherman (11 page)

'Fara rides too,' said Arnon quietly.

'Yes—I know,' said Kitra. 'And Fara rides very well indeed!'

Then the talk veered off to another topic and Fara strolled away to her own room. She languidly took up the little tapestry on which she had been investing oddments of unoccupied time. Ione joined her. They sat in silence for awhile, Ione exasperatingly tranquil, Fara recklessly stabbing her needle into the stiff fabric.

'Don't you ever feel penned in, Ione?' The tapestry sailed across the room and landed on the bed. 'How does it feel to be a slave?' Fara went on savagely, as if she meant to offend. 'If I were a slave, I'd run away! Why don't you?'

'Where would I run to?' asked Ione, blinking back the tears, for Fara's rudeness had hurt.

'You could go home,' gruffly.

'But—this is my home, dear; same as it is yours.'

'Nonsense!' muttered Fara. 'You can't be contented here any more than I can! This place stifles me! Sometimes I think I'll jump out of my skin!'

'Your mother would be very sorry, Fara, if she heard you say such things,' reproved Ione.

'Well, she won't,' declared Fara. 'But'—suddenly dejected—'I had to say it to somebody. Please forgive me.'

'Of course,' murmured Ione, quick to understand. 'It's natural for children of your age to be restless. You're growing so fast that the encampment isn't big enough to hold you. You will get over that when you are older.'

Fara crossed the room, flung herself down on her bed, and lacing her fingers behind her head, stared at the blue ceiling.

'Wouldn't you like to see something besides sheep?' she mumbled, mostly to herself. 'And go to some place where they talked about other things than the price of camels—and how are we going to find enough grass? Wouldn't you like to live in a great house—in a great city?'

'No, dear,' replied Ione, when some rejoinder seemed necessary. 'I have done that. I'm quite satisfied to be here—where I am, in these beautiful mountains.'

'Maybe I should be satisfied too,' admitted Fara. 'I wish I was like other people. There's something wrong with me, Ione,' she exclaimed impulsively. 'I'm different! And I hate it!'

It was not until she was eleven that Fara learned how and why she was different. She came by accident upon the soul-sickening truth about her father's perfidy and her mother's incurable unhappiness and her own defenceless position as a half-breed. She had ridden with Arnon, that midsummer afternoon, to the King's encampment. Zendi was absent on a tour of the eastern tribes. Rennah and Arnon lounged in the Queen's suite while Fara and the spoiled young Prince Deran strolled about indifferently inspecting the kennels and stables.

Tiring of this entertainment and agreeing that the sun was too hot, the children returned to the spacious living quarters, where Deran, eager to impress his guest, led the way into the huge, high-vaulted tent which was set apart for the exclusive use of the King and his Councillors. With a boyish swagger, Deran stalked about, explaining the various appointments. Having casually seated himself in the King's massive chair, he invited Fara to do the same. He wouldn't think, he said, of letting anyone else sit there. Fara smiled prettily to show her appreciation. Thus encouraged, Deran led her around the ancient table, declaiming what he knew about the symbolic carvings, and—in a hushed voice—called her attention to the impressive documents which lay waiting official action.

Fara, who had come to have deep respect for ancient crafts and historical writings, gave full attention to the table and its important freight.

'You mustn't touch anything,' cautioned Deran.

Fara shook her head and continued to survey the awesome documents with fascination. Presently she came upon a slightly faded, multi-coloured sheet of papyrus which she read, with widening eyes and mounting comprehension. Deran, a little younger but much taller, stood at her shoulder, staring in bewilderment at her flushed cheek. She turned abruptly toward him, searching his face, but he gave no sign of knowing or caring what tiresome thing she had been reading.

When they arrived home shortly before sunset, Fara followed Arnon into her bedroom, impulsively reported what she had seen in the King's tent, and entreated her mother to tell her everything, which she did. Everything!—the alliance, the marriage, the lonely days in Jerusalem, the humiliating days in Rome! All the pent-up wretchedness of Arnon's ruined life poured forth, accompanied by a flood of tears. When the sad, sordid story was finished, the unhappy Princess dried her eyes and was surprised to find that Fara, instead of sharing her mother's grief, was standing there dry-eyed, with her childish mouth firmed into a straight line and her brows contracted into an expression of bitter hatred.

'And why has no one hunted him down—and punished him?' she demanded indignantly.

'It's much too late for that,' said Arnon. 'When it happened our country was in great distress. No one could be spared. And now that we have such great prosperity, no one remembers.' She sighed deeply, and went on, 'Perhaps it is just as well. Galilee is a long way off. The Prince is well protected. Let us try to forget all about it, dear.'

Fara shook her head slowly.

'I shall remember—always!' she muttered.

That winter was long and severe. Arnon fell ill with a fever and relentless fits of coughing. Fara through these anxious days had no other concern but for her mother. Ione tried unsuccessfully to renew her interest in the classics, in her modelling, in her drawing.

'Do persuade the unhappy child to get out and take some exercise!' begged Arnon. 'She is so unlike herself, Ione.'

'It worries me too, Princess Arnon. Something has come over her.'

'She is fretting because I am ill,' said Arnon.

'Of course, Princess Arnon,' agreed Ione obligingly, 'but you will be better when spring comes again.'

And spring did come again, and Arnon improved enough to be able to sit in the sunshine and walk in the garden, but Fara's depression was unrelieved. All her natural gaiety was gone.

One afternoon when Rennah came to call, she found Arnon and Fara together in the garden. Almost immediately, Fara excused herself and strolled away. Rennah followed her with troubled eyes.

'She is growing taller; but, Arnon, Fara does not look well. Is something worrying her?'

'Fara has been fretting all winter about me,' said Arnon. 'She is a most dutiful child.'

'But now that you are getting well—'

'I have thought of that, Rennah. She should be happy again. I wish we could think of something that might divert her. She has no interest in anything.'

'She will have a birthday soon,' remembered Rennah. 'How about having a party?' Her face lighted. 'Would you let me have a party for Fara? I know Zendi would be glad. We will make quite a day of it—with the Councillors and their wives and all the children and grandchildren—and races and games and plenty to eat.'

'It is like you, dear Rennah, to want to do such a kindness,' said Arnon. 'I hope you will not go to too much trouble.'

'Zendi will approve, I know,' said Rennah. 'It's high time we gave that sweet child some attention. We have neglected her too long. It should mean something to the people that Fara's grandfathers were Kings!'

So, on the fifteenth of Adar, which turned out to be the fairest day of that early summer, the King and Queen celebrated Fara's twelfth anniversary with a party that greatly exceeded Rennah's original plan, not only in the entertainment provided but in the number of guests; for, having decided to do it, Zendi included all the sheiks and tribal leaders with their families.

Fara had been dismayed upon learning of the project in her honour and so seriously objected that she was all but in open revolt, until Zendi himself explained that as a child of royal blood she was not only entitled to certain favours but was expected to receive them graciously. And when Fara continued to frown disapprovingly, Zendi's patience gave out and he informed her that whether she wanted it or not there was going to be a birthday party for her at the King's encampment on the fifteenth day of Adar; and that, whether she wanted to or not, she was going to be there, bright and early!

Late in the night, after the party was over and everyone had gone home, Zendi told Rennah what he had said, so impatiently, to Fara when she had begged him not to celebrate her birthday.

'If I had had the slightest idea of what was troubling the child,' he confided, 'I should have yielded to her wishes. As it stands now our celebration of her birthday has been of no advantage to her. Indeed, it has done her harm. Everyone will think she is queer, if not definitely out of her mind.'

The almost incredible thing that happened was reserved for the banquet in the evening, attended only by the royal household, the Councillors and their wives, and a few distinguished guests from Petra, where Zendi was becoming favourably known.

Nothing unusual had marked the happy events of the day. There had been exciting contests of strength and skill; acrobatic performances, wrestling, fencing, foot races. Magicians had done baffling tricks. Minstrels had sung. There were horseraces that would have done credit to the famed elliptical track in Rome's mighty Colosseum. And there were equestrian exhibitions staged by various groups of reckless young Arabs, some of the contestants hardly more than children. As was to be expected, there were a few bad spills, some broken bones and ruined horses. The final event was a breath-taking hurdle race ridden by youths in their middle teens. The hurdles were high and the race was dangerous. Of the twelve horses that started, three finished.

Obliged by the circumstances to sit with the dignitaries in the royal stand, Fara turned to her mother as the perspiring young victor rode up to salute the King, and whispered, 'Who is that boy?'

Before Arnon could reply, Kitra, seated immediately behind them, leaned forward to say, with a proud but nervous little laugh, 'Why—don't you remember him, Fara? That's Voldi! You used to play together.'

Fara turned to her with a smile and a nod of remembrance.

'He is a wonderful rider,' she murmured, in the husky-timbred tone that her voice had acquired.

Queen Rennah, overhearing, said, 'We will ask him to come up, Fara, and renew acquaintance.'

Fara bit her lip and flushed a little. Meeting Arnon's eyes, she frowned and shook her head almost imperceptibly. Arnon smiled, pursed her lips, and nodded, as if to say, 'We mustn't object to that: it's quite the thing to do.'

Presently Voldi, dismounting, came up into the royal enclosure, bowed deeply to the King and Queen, and made his way toward his mother. They gave him a seat beside Fara. She searched his brown, freckled face with wide, sober eyes. Then her full lips parted in a smile of candid admiration. He coloured a little through the tan, under this frank inspection, and slowly met her smile with the bewildered expression of one who has just come upon a valuable discovery.

Rennah, keenly observant, turned her head toward Kitra and whispered, 'Isn't that sweet?' Kitra nodded and smiled briefly, but there was a trace of anxiety in her eyes. Rennah caught it, and thought she understood.

'You grew up, didn't you?' murmured Fara, in her peculiarly low-pitched voice that made everything she said sound confidential.

'So did you,' stammered Voldi. 'I shouldn't have known you.'

'That was really great riding, Voldi!' said Fara fervently.

'You ride too, don't you?'

'Not like that.'

'Want to take a ride with me, some day?'

'If you think it wouldn't be tiresome—to ride very carefully.'

Their mothers and the Queen, shamelessly eavesdropping, laughed at Voldi's expense, but he was too fascinated to notice their amusement.

'Tomorrow afternoon?' he asked.

Fara nodded slowly, smiled a little; then suddenly retreated from the enraptured eyes.

'You promised to spend the day with your grandfather, Voldi,' put in Kitra.

'I'll tell him.' Voldi rose to go. 'Tomorrow afternoon, Fara.' They all—except Fara—followed the tall boy with their eyes and saw him pause to say something to his grandfather who soberly made a show of concealing his pride in the youngster's obvious affection for him.

'Happy days for good old Mishma,' remarked the Queen.

'Yes,' said Kitra absently.

Noting the remote tone of Kitra's uninterested response, Arnon involuntarily turned her head to seek a reason for it, but Kitra did not meet her inquiring eyes. The little by-play was quite lost on Fara, whose attention pursued Voldi as he strode down the steps and mounted his tired horse.

In the evening oxen were roasted over deep pits of glowing coals, and everybody feasted in the open but the royal hosts and their important guests. Fara was the only young person present at the King's banquet. There had been some debate whether to invite a few of the younger ones of Fara's age, but it was difficult to discriminate among them and the room would not accommodate them all.

After the elaborate dinner was served, brief speeches were made in honour of Fara, whom they all addressed as 'Princess'. No one of the eulogistic Councillors made any reference to the royal blood contributed by Judaea, but memories were refreshed concerning the wisdom and courage of Grandsire Aretas, who was already well on the way to an exalted rating among Arabia's legendary heroes.

Throughout the ordeal—for it was nothing less than that—Fara sat between her mother and King Zendi, attentive and sober-faced, as became a young girl unused to so much adult acclaim. She seemed to be listening to everything that was said, though close observers noticed that her expression remained unchanged when Chief Councillor Mishma was reminded of an amusing incident and everyone else laughed. Apparently Fara had not heard it. It was evident that she had something on her mind.

When the speeches of felicitation were ended and nothing remained to be said except a word of adjournment, Zendi turned with a paternal smile toward his young guest of honour.

'Now, Princess Fara,' he said kindly, 'it is your turn. You may make a bow—or make a speech—or sing a song.'

They all applauded the King's half-playful suggestion, but stopped suddenly when Fara rose to her feet. Arnon, seated beside her, glanced up apprehensively as if to inquire, 'What is my child planning to do?'