Sam Barone: Battle For Empire

Nevertheless, the tempting morsels lay untouched. Neither General Jedidia, nor the other two occupants of the small courtyard, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, or Lord Modran, felt any desire to eat before meeting with their sovereign. Only a fool ate, or drank for that matter, before an audience with King Shirudukh. A slight belch or worse, a loud fart, might be interpreted by the King as a sign of disrespect.

Each of the three generals occupied a bench of his own. Across from Jedidia slouched the short and slightly rotund Grand Commander Chaiyanar, eyes closed, his head lolling back against the wall. Soft, Jedidia thought, soft but cunning. On the bench beside Chaiyanar’s, Lord Modran, handsome and vain, stretched out his lean frame, legs askew. No hint of softness in Modran, Jedidia knew. The man could fight or ride with anyone.

As usual, Jedidia felt uneasy in their presence. His blunt words and common upbringing contrasted against their more polished tones, and he lacked their skills in dealing with the King. Both men looked down on Jedidia, dismissing him as a simple soldier who had risen from the ranks.

And they were right. When Jedidia was ten years old, his father had sold him to the King’s soldiers. After a brutal upbringing among the soldiers, Jedidia had fought his way to the rank of general in less than fifteen years.

For the next ten years, Jedidia had killed the King’s enemies, as the Empire of the Elamites continued its remorseless expansion. Now, approaching his thirty-sixth season, Jedidia preferred nothing more than a hard fight and the opportunity to bring the terror and horrors of war down upon his enemy’s head.

After exchanging a few forced pleasantries on their arrival, none of the generals had spoken for some time. Each of them resented and distrusted the other two, a natural enough situation when vying for the King’s favor, and the subsequent increase in power that flowed to his current favorite. Who, Jedidia mused, would occupy the most favored place after today?

Summoned by their King to appear at midmorning, they entered the Palace only to learn from Shirudukh’s chamberlain that the King found himself delayed by important matters of state, and would the three generals excuse the slight delay. Jedidia’s teeth had clenched at the chamberlain’s hint of a smile. They might be generals in command of thousands, but here in the Palace, they awaited their summons like any supplicant.

From where he sat, Jedidia could hear the important matters himself. At least three women’s voices on the other side of the wall, all of them chattering, laughing, or moaning with pleasure, no doubt faked for their master’s gratification. Meanwhile, the King’s most senior commanders continued to wait, as the ruler of the Elamite Empire indulged his desires, his pleasure likely enhanced by his awareness of the anxiety of those waiting to see him.

None of the generals complained, of course. If anyone expressed the slightest sign of impatience or anger, the other two would be certain to repeat it to the King. Even a hint of disloyalty could be fatal. The less said, the better.

General Jedidia glanced again at his rivals. He despised the soft Chaiyanar and scorned the arrogant Modran. Both men held similar feelings about Jedidia. The three had hated each other for years, as they clawed their way to the top of Elam’s armies.

Only fear of the King’s power kept them from each other’s throats. As a smiling Shirudukh often reminded them, they were the three legs of the stool that supported his power. Jedidia had always bristled at that humiliating image, though he forced a smile to his face.

Shirudukh understood the ways of power. He kept his generals and their armies at a distance, maintaining only a small but loyal force in the capital city of Anshan for his personal protection. All the traders and merchants operated under his rule and those of his advisors.

The knowledge needed to govern a large empire rested only in Shirudukh’s hands. Any senior commander who showed the slightest interest in such matters soon disappeared.

The sun climbed higher and higher, and Jedidia saw that midday had come and gone, yet Shirudukh kept them waiting. The heat grew more oppressive, and Jedidia felt the sweat under his arms.

Even so, the pitchers of water that rested on the table remained untouched. No one dared be away taking a piss should the summons come. Nor, once the meeting began, would any of them ask for permission to leave. The King tolerated no slights either to his authority or his presence. Even his generals were expected to hold their water until Shirudukh dismissed them.

At last the gate to the inner garden creaked open, and a servant appeared, bowing low before the chafing generals. “The King is ready to see you, My Lords.”

With a breath of relief, Jedidia rose, stretching his shoulders. Chaiyanar, closest to the gate and moving faster than the others, fell into place behind the servant. Modran managed to step in front of Jedidia, forcing him to bring up the rear.

Their guide hurried them out of the courtyard, nodding to the four soldiers guarding the entrance, and into the Palace’s main garden. The ever-vigilant guards took a few moments to insure that the visitors remained unarmed, despite the fact that the three men had already surrendered their weapons when they arrived at the Palace.

Inside, small trees along the inner walls provided shade, and their pink blossoms added to the scented air. Pots filled with white and yellow jasmine bloomed, interspersed with shrubs speckled with glistening crimson berries. A wide buff-colored linen cloth, stretched over four supporting poles, provided shade for the King, who rested on a raised divan covered with pillows.

A young boy, no more than eleven or twelve, wielded a large fan to provide a breeze for the Empire’s ruler. But even the blossoming flowers could not compete with the strong, almost rank perfume from the King’s three slave girls, all of them naked, who lounged at Shirudukh’s feet.

One of the girls, still flushed from her recent exertions, rested her breast again Shirudukh’s leg, as she ran her fingers along his inner thigh. After a quick glance at the visitors, the slaves returned their adoring eyes to the King, each one eager to be the next to satisfy his slightest desire.

The peaceful setting contrasted with the presence of the King’s guards, tough and brutal soldiers who obeyed only King Shirudukh. They stood with their backs to the walls, their eyes fastened on the visitors. Jedidia counted eight of them, and knew another twenty waited just beyond the garden, ready to respond to any threat against the King.

“Ah, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, Lord Modran, General Jedidia, it is good to see my victorious generals again.” Tall and broad, King Shirudukh possessed a booming voice that filled the garden. Long brown hair, carefully arranged, reached to his shoulders. A long nose protruded over a wide mouth and thick lips.

Aside from a linen wrap tossed carelessly over his genitals, Shirudukh’s chest and legs were bare. Chaiyanar, who had taken position directly in front of the divan, bowed first, a deep gesture that nearly brought him to his knees. “My King, the honor for my victory belongs to you.”

Lord Modran bowed just as low, and perforce Jedidia followed his example. It would not do to show the slightest disrespect.

“Our enemies fled at the mention of your name, my King,” Lord Modran’s deep voice added emphasis to his simpering utterance.

“Our soldiers knew they would be victorious in your service, my King,” Jedidia said, hating the fawning words even as he uttered them. “They were eager to humble your enemies.”

Shirudukh waved away their flattery. “You have all fought well, and now the Empire of Elam stretches from one end of our land to the other.”