Shardik (11 page)

‘They
are
both far above me,’ he thought, pacing slowly across the grove, his ears full of
the
incessant croaking of the frogs along the shore. ‘Yet I - a common man - can see plainly that each is clinging - or trying to cling — to that which they fear may now be changed or swept away. I have no such thoughts, for I have nothing to lose; and besides, I have seen Lo
rd Shardik and they have not.

Yet even if we find him again and do not die, still, I believe, they will try by some means or other to deny him. And that I could never do, come of it what might.’

The sudden, harsh cry of some creature in the forest recalled him to the duty he had undertaken, and he turned back to his watch. Crossing the clearing once more, he threaded his way among the sleeping girls.

The Tuginda was standing beside the fire. She beckoned, and as he approached looked at him with the same shrewd, honest smile which he had first seen at the Tereth stone, before he had known who she was.

‘Surely, Kelderek, your watch is long over?’ she asked. ‘If another were to take my place, saiyett, I could not sleep, so why should I not watch?’ ‘Your shoulder hurts?’

‘No - my heart, saiyett.’ He smiled back at her. ‘I’m ill at ease. There’s good cause.’

‘Well, I’m glad you’re awake,
Kelderek
Play-with-the-Children, for we need to talk, you and I.’ She moved away from the sleepers and he followed her until she stopped and faced him in the gloom, leaning against a quian trunk. The frogs croaked on and now he could hear the waves lapping in the reeds.

‘You heard me say to Melathys and the Baron that we ought to act as though your news were true. That was what I said to
them
: but you yourself, Kelderek, must know this. If I were unable to perceive the truth that flows from a man’s heart into his words, I would not be the Tuginda of Quiso. I am in no doubt that it is indeed Lord Shardik that you have seen.’

He could find no reply and after a little she w
ent on, ‘So - of all those countl
ess thousands who have waited, we are the ones, you and
I
.’

‘
Yes. But you seem so calm, saiye
tt, and I - I am full of fear -ordinary, coward’s fear. Awe and dread I feel indeed, but most, I am afraid simply of being torn to pieces by a bear. They are very dangerous creatures. Are you not afraid too?’

She replied to his question
with
anoth
er.

‘What do you know of Lord Shardik?’

He thought for a time and then answered, ‘He is from God -
God is in him - he is the Power of God - he departed and he is to return. Nay,
saiyett
, one thinks he knows until another calls for the words. Like all children, I learned to pray for that good night when Shardik will return.’

‘But there is such a thing as getting more than we bargain for.

Many pray. How many have really considered what it would mean if the prayers were granted?’

‘Whatever may come of it, saiyett, I could never wish that he had not returned. For all my fear, I could not wish that I had never seen him.’

‘Nor I, for all mine. Yes, I am afraid too; but at least I can th
ank
God
that
I have never forgotten the real,
the
true work of the Tuginda - to be ready, in all sober reality, night and day, for the return of Shardik. How often, by night, have I walked alone on the Ledges and thought, “If this were the night - if Shardik were to come now - what should I do? ” I knew I could not but fear, but the fear is less -‘ she smiled again - ‘less than I feared. Now you must know more, for we are the Vessels, you and I.’ She nodded slowly, holding his eyes among the shadows. ‘And what that means we shall learn, God help us, and in His good time.’

Kelderek said nothing. The Tuginda folded her arms, leaned back once more against the tree and went on.

‘It is more than a matter of the people falling flat on their faces - much, much more.’ Still he said
nothing
.

‘Do you know of Bekla, that great city ?’

‘Of course,
saiyett
.’

‘Have you ever been there?’

‘I? Oh no, saiyett. How should a man like me go to
Bekla
? Yet many of my skins and feathers have been bought by the factors for the market
there
. It is four or five days’ journey to
the
south,
that
I know.’

‘Did you know that long ago - no one knows how long - the people of Ortelga ruled in Bekla?’
‘ We
were
the
rulers of Bekla?’

‘We were. Of that empire which stretched nordi to
the
shores of
the
Telthe
arna, west to Paltesh and south to Sarkid and Ikat-Yeldashay. We were a great people — fighters, traders and, above all, builders and craftsmen - yes, we who now skulk on an island in thatched sheds and scratch for a living with ploughs and mattocks on a few pebbly miles of the mainland.

‘It was we who built Bekla. To this day it is like a garden of sculpted and dancing stone. The Palace of the Barons is more beautiful than a lily pool when the dragon-flies hover over it. The street of the builders was full, then, of rich men’s messengers from far and near, offering fortunes to craftsmen to come and work for them. And those who co
ndescended to go travelled swiftl
y, for there were broad, safe roads to the frontiers.

‘In those days, Shardik was with us. He was with us as the
Tuginda is with us now. He did not die. He passed from one bodily home to another.’

‘Shardik ruled in Bekla?’

‘No, not in Bekla. Shardik was worshipped and Shardik blessed us from a lonely, sacred place on the borders of the empire, to which his suppliants journeyed in humility. Where was that, do you think?’

‘I cannot tell, saiyett.’

‘It was Quiso, where
the
shreds of Shardik’s power still cling like rags on a windy hedge. And it was the craftsmen of Bekla who made of the whole island a temple for Shardik. They built the causeway from the mainland to
Ortelga
- the causeway
that
is now broken -for the bands of pilgrims, after they had assembled on the mainland shore among the Two-Sided Stones, would be brought first to Ortelga and thence make the night-journey to Quiso, just as you made it last night Our craftsmen, too, levelled and paved
the
terrace where Melath
ys met you; and over
the
ravine in front of it they made the Bridge of the Suppliants, a span of iron slender as a rope, by which all strangers had to cross or else go back. But that bridge is fallen this many a year - fallen long before we were born, you and I. Behind the terrace, as you know, lies
the
Upper Temple, which they cut out of the rock. You did not see the interior, for you were in darkness. It is a high chamber, twenty paces square, hewn throughout thirty years, flake by flake out of
the
living rock. And more than all this, they made -‘

‘The Ledges
!
’

‘The Ledges: the greatest artifact in the world. Four generations of stone-masons and builders worked for more than a hundred years to complete the Ledges. Those who began it never saw the end. And they paved the shores of the bay below and built the dwellings for the priestesses and the women.’

‘And Shardik, saiyett? How was he housed?’

‘He was not. He went where he would. He roamed free — sometimes among the woods, sometimes on the Ledges. But the priestesses hunted for him, fed him and looked after him. That was their mystery.’

‘But did he never kill?’

‘Yes, sometimes he would kill - a priestess in
the
Singing, if such was God’s will, or perhaps some over-bold suppliant who had approached him rashly or provoked him in some way. Also, he knew the truth in men’s hearts and could tell when one was secr
ctly
his enemy. When he killed he did so out of his own divining - we did not set him on to kill. Rather it was our mystery and our skill to tend him so that he did not. The Tuginda and her priestesses walked and slept near Shardik - this was their art,
the
wonder that men came to
see
,
the wonder that gave Bekla its luck and mastery.’ ‘And was he mated?’

‘Sometimes he was mated, but it did not have to be so. Whom God made Shardik was a matter of signs and omens, of His will rather than of human intent. Sometimes, indeed, the Tuginda would know that she must leave Quiso and go into the hills or the forest with her girls, to find and bring back a mate for Shardik. But again, he might live
until he seemed to die, and th
en
they
would go to find him reborn and bring him home.’

‘How?’

‘They had ways of which we still know - or hope
that
we
know, for
they
have been long unused - both drugs and othe
r arts by which he could be controlled, though only for a
little
time
. Yet none of these was sure. When the Power of God appears in earthly form, he cannot be driven here and
there
like a cow, or where would be
the
wonder and
the
awe? Always, with Shardik, there was uncertainty, danger and the risk of death: and that at least is one thing of which
we
can
still
be sure. Shardik requires of us all that
we
have, and from those who cannot offer so much freely, he may well take it by force.’

She paused, gazing unseeingly into
the
dark jungle, as though remembering
the
power and majesty of Shardik of
the
Ledges and his Tuginda long ago. At last Kelderek asked, ‘But - those days came to an end, saiyett?’

‘They came to an end. The full story I do not know. It was a sacrilege too vile to be fully known or spoken. All I can tell is that the Tuginda of that time betrayed Shardik and betrayed the people and herself. There was a man - no, not fit to be called a man, for who but one lost to God would dare to contrive such a thing? - a wandering slave-trader. She became -
with
him – ah!
‘ - and here the Tuginda, overcome, stood silent, her body pressed back against the trunk of the quian, shuddering with disgust and horror. At lcngdi, recovering herself, she went on,

‘He - he slew Shardik; and many of
the
sacred women also. The rest he and his men took for slaves, and she who had once been called Tuginda fled
with
him down
the
Telthe
arna. Perhaps
they
came to Zeray - perhaps to some other place - I cannot say - it does not greatly matter. God knew what they had done and He can always afford to wait.

‘Then the enemies of Bekla rose up and attacked it and we were left without heart or courage to fight them. They took the city. The High Baron died at their hands and what was left of the people fled over the plain and the Gelt mountains to the shores of the

Telthearna
, for they hoped that if they fled as suppliants to these islands, they might save at least their lives. So they crossed to
Ortelga
and broke up the causeway behind them. And their enemies left them
there
, to scratch in the earth and scavenge in the forest, for
they
had taken
their
city and
their
empire and it was not worth their while to attack desperate men in their last stronghold. Quiso too they left
them
, for they feared Quiso, even though it had become an empty, defiled place. Yet one thing they forbade. Shardik was n
ever to return; and for a long ti
me, until there was no more need, they kept watch to make sure of this.

‘The years passed and we became an ignorant
, impoverished people. Many Orte
lgan craftsmen drifted away to sell
their
skill in richer places; and
those
who were left lost their cunning for lack of fine materials and wealthy custom. Now, we venture as far on the mainland as we dare and trade what resources we have - rope and skins - for what we can get from beyond. And the barons dig pits and post shendrons to keep themselves alive on a spit of jungle that no one else requires. Yet still the Tuginda, on her empty island, has work - believe me,
Kelderek
, she has work -
the
hardest. Her work is to wait. To be ready, always, for Shardik’s return. For one thing has been plainly foretold, again and again, by every sign and portent known to
the
Tuginda and the priestesses - that one day Shardik will return.’