As though amazed at his mistake, Abreha slapped the carpet at his side so that the dust flew in the firelight. “Behind his back,” Abreha corrected. “His arms chained behind his back.
“I saw myself, Princess,” he repeated. “I saw myself on the verge of manhood and obeying my king unquestioningly, instead of doubting both his wisdom and his authority. I saw myself barely more than a boy and already utterly defeated by grief and failure, instead of expecting fulfilled ambition. I saw myself forced to lie on my face in the dust before an enemy I had no hope of besting.”
Abreha drew a long breath to steady himself, as I had seen Priamos do a thousand times.
“I told him to stand up. And I covered him with my cloak. He ate with me that night and slept in my tent. He was too tired to consider that my kindness might cast him as a collaborator when he returned to Aksum.”
“But you must have considered it!” I exclaimed, then sighed, and put down my cup. I bent against my knees with my head in my arms, trying to understand how this man whom I liked and admired could have used Priamos so heartlessly, when it was more than I could bear to be denied his companionship.
Abreha said, “I felt that Caleb had saved Priamos to send me at the last, to be his final, surest weapon against me.”
He sipped at his wine again. “By the saints, the boy was trained as a linguist. ‘Speak Arabic if you like,’ he told me. ‘You do not need to translate; I am fluent in fourteen languages.’ What madman would make a general of such a one, and risk splitting open a head he had carefully crammed with fourteen languages? All I can believe is that when Caleb first saw how like me the boy was, he changed his mind about how Priamos should best serve him.”
“But that is not statesmanship!” I burst out.
“Well, what is it, then?”
“Trickery, gambling, delusion, I don’t know. What sheer lunacy, to wager the future of your empire on a boy’s face!”
“Is it any more lunatic than to wager it on the head of your newborn infant son?” said Abreha. “Or that of your nephew? Is that not how your father chose his heirs?”
I could make no answer. I had done that, too.
“I did consider how unfavorable a light my kindness would cast over Priamos,” Abreha acknowledged. “Caleb meant to use him as a weapon against me. How better to destroy a sword without breaking it, than to blunt its edge? No man in Caleb’s court would trust Priamos, after the battle at al-Muza. Though Caleb did, still; he sent Priamos to Britain.”
“It was not meant as exile,” I interrupted, defensive of my kingdom, and of Priamos.
“Indeed not. It was an important appointment, and I think it was bitterly contested. But four thousand miles is a safe distance. As you know.”
The najashi smiled. It was the same joyous, childlike smile that Priamos so rarely gave. You serpent, I thought, you are more manipulative than Caleb himself, or Medraut, or even Morgause—there was no one I knew who could so coldly and consciously exploit a young life he or she claimed to hold dear.
No one but myself, whispered my conscience, and I could not bring blame against him.
Once more Abreha handed his cup to the young servant. I saw that he carried himself with a serenity and gravity that Priamos lacked.
“I will send you an ambassador,” I said. “At least, I will see to it that Constantine sends you one.” I rose to my feet. “Will you excuse me now?”
He rose with me. “With pleasure. And I hope we may speak again, soon, of lighter and happier matters.” He bowed his head to me and kissed my hand again.
“With pleasure,” I echoed. “Good night to you, najashi, King of Himyar. May God bless your renewed alliance with Aksum.”
Constantine was waiting for me beyond the firelight; he may have been lurking there all through my conversation with Abreha. He bowed and said, “If you will not come home with me as my queen, at least let me escort you to your tent.”
I gave him my arm and said nothing.
“I do not understand how you choose your companions,” Constantine said.
“I am Britain’s ambassador,” I said. “Did you not also share polite conversation with the king of Himyar, when you were in my place?”
“For these few days he has the unusual opportunity to speak directly to Britain’s new high king,” said Constantine, “and it is clandestine mischief to approach the ambassador first. Wazeb does well to guard his back.”
“From me?” I hissed.
I dropped his arm. I had never known such anger.
“You dare! I have given you my kingdom. You dare question my loyalty?”
When he turned to me, I struck him in the face. He stood gaping, and I slapped him again.
“You, Constantine, you, who have done so much to heal Wazeb’s kingdom for him, how can you not see what a wonder they are working, Wazeb and Abreha? There is more to politics than coinage!”
“But what risk!”
“Bother to the risk! What courage!”
We stood before the small tent that I had to myself, as befitted my station as princess of Britain. I took a deep breath and spoke calmly.
“A king need not be kind, but by my father’s sword, Constantine, my cousin, he must be able to forgive. Cynric the king of the West Saxons had no desire to bring about my father’s death. He wished me to marry his grandson, but he never wished me any ill. You will have to treat with him yourself before a year is out.”
“What on earth do you know of forgiveness?” Constantine said bitterly, then turned on his heel and left me.
CHAPTER XIV
Swifts
I SLEPT SO LATE the hunt left without me. I lifted the silk covering of my tent and stepped outside; the air was bright and cool and still. Women pounded grain across the camp, and a pair of young porters crouched near them playing gebeta in the dust. How lovely, I thought, to stop being princess of Britain for a moment. I hope they stay away all day.
I found Telemakos building a city out of bones and twigs and seedpods in the grass outside his mother’s tent.
“Mean things, to go without you,” he said sympathetically. “Ras Meder wouldn’t let them wake you. He stood in front of your tent shaking his head and waving his gold spear at them.”
I laughed. “I don’t mind. I was tired last night. Can I help?”
“You can lay a road. I’m digging a reservoir.”