Monday 19 March 2012

The Saviour

The vision before him was enthralling. Slowly she emerged from the bath. Her body ramrod straight, her   narrow waist accentuating her curves. Her milky white skin glistened and shone, in the morning sun. Her long black silky, tresses held reverentially by a slave. Even the gods must have held their breath when they first saw her. As she turned towards where he stood hidden behind the fronds of the palm tree, he caught his own breath. Her face was exquisite, the doe shaped eyes were a deep aquamarine blue, the small upturned nose perfectly highlighting, her full bee stung lips.

The cry from behind him, came from a slave girl, who approaching from behind had seen him. In a flash, he was held, his arms pinned behind him, by her body guards. "Who is it who dares to enter the baths when the Queen is here ?"  Her exquisite body, covered in a towel, her eyes shining with rage, she looked even more majestic. " How dare you, lowly minion, enter my chambers ? Dosen't thou know that thine life is now in my hands ? One word from me, and thou shalt be thrown to the lions. "

The young man stood before her, his handsome mane of hair falling on his face. It would have been a striking one but for the scar running across it. His body though was faultless. " O queen. Indeed i apologise for this intrusion, i'm but a messenger from the neighbouring country of Greece. But i was directed wrongly, to thine chambers, when i  was seeking an audience with His Majesty. "
"Then why did thou stand here hiding, thou should have left immediatly thy realised thy were in my chambers. " Retorted the queen. Looking at her, his eyes boring into hers he replied, "Even a God couldn't have taken his eyes from the splendorous vision before mine eyes, O Queen. I am but a human. " An unfathomable expression in her eyes, she commanded her slaves. "Take him away. The lions shall have a good meal on the morrow, when the games begin."

The morning dawned bright. The men streaming into the prisons led him off. In preparation for the games, he was bathed, washed, anointed with myrrh and robed in handsome robes of red and gold. He sat in the cages, behind the arena, in the colloseum,  awaiting his turn. He was tense, the adrenalin racing thru his body, each time the roars sounded from beyond. Knowing this would be the last day of his life, the warrior in him still adamantly fought against it. Death was not a stranger, many a battle had he fought for his king and lived to tell the tale. If the Gods favored him, maybe he would still live to see another day. Meanwhile, each time he closed his eyes, the vision floated across. Never had he seen such beauty. Maybe, the price he would pay for that indiscretion was worth it. After all, if he had died in battle, he would never have been so priviliged.

The rustle of silk roused him from his reverie. His eyes flew open, as he rose to his feet. She stood before him, regal in her robes. Yet again, he found himself short of breath as he looked at her in all her splendour. What surprised him was that she stood alone, her slave standing near the door. "Go"she said, in a low voice. "Thou art free. I can't have thine death on my conscience." His decision made he replied, "No, Queen. I am prepared to face my fate. I am a warrior, not a coward."

That day, the miracle happened. The man who fought the lions, seemed to be a God, himself. Or a lion. Three lions were brought into the arena. But they were no match for him. Finally, he was set free.    His eyes soaking in the sight of the queen, standing before him, he bowed low before the king.

Many years elapsed. The war was long and victory nigh on  impossible for the Macedonians. Battle wearied, the stragglers returned to the palace, with news of loss and death. The city lay ablaze, its citizens dreading the plundering of their homes by the victors.

The Queen, her four month old babe in her arms, prepared to flee the castle. The sudden thundering footsteps heralded the arrival of the mob of soldiers. Guided by her guards she ran into the secret passage which led to the outskirts of the city. The cries of her kingdom pillaged and looted tore at her heart, but for the sake of her child, the heir to his now dead fathers' kingdom, she was prepared to go to any length.

Emerging from the tunnel, she paused looking around. The sound of running behind her had her whirling around. The arrow that struck her, felled her on the ground. As she fell, a figure surged before her. He fought like a man possessed, much to the consternation of his companions. The few who dared to confront him, paid with their lives. The rest, fearing for their lives fled. Bending low, he picked her up in his arms and ran. To her chest she clutched her precious load. In the thick foliage of trees, he stopped, put her down. In the light of the glowing torch, held by her slave, she saw him. The messenger from Greece. "My Queen, " he cried, seeing the blood  oozing relentlessly from her side. Wordlessly, she held him out to her, her babe. " Thou art his father, and his mother from this day on. Save him. "

Holding her dead body in his arms, was death to him. His soul died within him, as he grieved, his strong body wracked with sobs. A gentle hand on his arm bade him rise. "Save her son as she saved thine life that day," said her slave. At his agonised, "What?" he replied, "Didn't thou feel a difference ? The lions were fed drugged meat before they entered the arena, at her command. She knew thou would choose to fight instead of fleeing.

1 comment:

  1. brilliant story..gripping till the end..superb descriptions..

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