you . . . great deeds . . . someone great . . . loves you. Be brave . . . strong, my son . . .’
And with that strange smile of incredible tenderness and pride on her lips she died. I could have killed myself with grief such as I have never known, before – or since.
Obu, Lubo and I laid my slain parent to rest in a deep grave on the shores of the silvery lake. We buried her in the way the Strange Ones buried their dead, lying on her back with her hands at her sides. Her helmet was on her head and her sword was in its scabbard beside her tall body.
‘Farewell, my parent . . .’
I could hardly stand, let alone walk, and Obu and Lubo had to support me as we went back into the moonlit city. As we approached the great gates, over the bridge spanning the deep water-filled ditch, a loud cry tore the quiet night and a body came hurtling down from the top of one of the great towers that flanked the city gate, plunging into the moat with an unbelievable splash – immediately sinking like a stone.
‘Another murder,’ cried Obu. ‘It is the second one in three days. What is this city coming to?’
‘I know who that was who fell in there,’ said Lubo. ‘It is the male wife of the High Emperor Karesu. Gods – great immortal gods, now there is going to be trouble!’
A harsh voice called out to us as we entered the gate, the voice of the leader of a troop of bronze-clad White guards who had come running to investigate the scream and the splash.
‘Ho there, slave dogs. Halt! Who was that who fell into the moat? Answer!’
‘We do not know, Master,’ replied Obu, bowing low.
‘What are you dogs doing outside the city walls this time of night?’ snarled the commander of the guard.
‘They went out to bury a dead fellow-slave, Commander,’ replied one of the guards. ‘I saw them as they went out past the guard house.’
‘Where did the one who uttered the cry fall from?’ demanded the commander.
‘He fell from the top of this tower, Master,’ replied Obu, pointing to the tower on the left side of the gate.
‘What race was he?’
‘He was one of the master’s, Master.’
The guard commander turned to his men and shouted: ‘Some of you get up there quick. You, slaves, stay here and do not move.’
The guards went pelting up the long flight of steps that went up the solid stone tower. Suddenly a white-clad figure came running down the steps of the other tower and flew like a mad ghost up the main street leading to the centre of the city. The commander, together with two of the guards who had remained behind, turned with a loud shout and gave chase.
‘Come on, my sons,’ said Obu to Lubo and me, ‘let us get to our owner’s home quickly. But do not run; these streets will soon be crawling with soldiers.’
He was right; we were only a few blocks away from our owner’s house when squads of fully armed soldiers came clanking past us on their way to the gate and alarm horns sounded in the silver night, calling all available warriors to man the towers and the stockade around the city.
‘I wonder if they caught whoever it is that was running up the street,’ mused Obu.
‘I would not like to be in his place, whoever it was,’ laughed Lubo, as he went up to the tall gates of our master’s house.
Suddenly Lubo pointed excitedly to our right. ‘Look, look there.’
‘Where?’ cried Obu.
‘Over there, on the corner of the garden wall, look.’
We turned and, following his pointing finger, saw a sight that sent shivers of excitement along our spines. A tall white-clad figure had just climbed the high wall surrounding our owner’s garden and was about to leap within.
‘It is the fugitive who ran away from the tower,’ said Obu grimly. ‘Let us get into the garden quickly and seize him.’
Like stalking wild cats we entered our owner’s well-tended grounds and began our search for the white-clad fugitive whom we felt sure had pushed the male consort of our city’s male Emperor into the moat. We all knew that if we let this fugitive hide himself in the gardens it would mean death for all of us and for our owner as well.
It fell to me to be the one who found the assassin, and a great surprise it was as well. I had gone well ahead of both Lubo and Obu when I heard people talking in low voices just round the corner of our owner’s house. I dropped on my knees and crawled along the grass slowly and carefully until I could see around the corner of the great house. To my great surprise I saw the thickset, bearded man who owned us standing on the steps of the back door of the house and talking to the veiled white-clad figure of our quarry who stood on the ground looking up at him. I caught the last words of my owner’s address to the fugitive.
‘. . . well indeed, but you must come into the house before someone sees you, your Highness.’
‘Your Highness . . .’ The words struck me like a blow! Who, then, could the midnight fugitive and murderer be? In the whole of the empire there were now only two people left alive to whom the title of ‘Your Highness’ could be applied. The first of them was, of course, the High Emperor himself; the other was his dead brother’s widow whom I had never seen, but about whom I had heard a lot of fantastic rumours.
The visitor entered the house like a white ghost. Then came the next surprise of that memorable night. Loud shouting in three different voices erupted within our master’s house and the voices were those of our owner himself, his son, and the woman who had been my mother’s mistress. Then the blood-curdling sounds of a murderous sword fight, punctuated by the crash of breaking furniture, reached our shocked ears as we turned and ran to the front to get the long spears we carried when guarding our owner’s house at night. A loud, quavering scream split the night air as we reached the front entrance. Then we heard the voice of my mother’s former mistress shrieking loudly and accusingly:
‘You killed him . . . you killed your own son, you foul murderer! But I am going out to tell the Emperor that you are plotting against him. You false traitor . . . you are trying to play a double game. I shall tell the soldiers you are hiding this bitch in your house!’
The door burst open and the woman came running out, wrapped in a blue cloak, with her hair flying behind her. Our owner was close behind her, bleeding from a cut above one eye. ‘To me, slaves, seize her . . . kill her . . . quick!’
WHAT SECRETS HATH HEAVEN?
For a few moments we hesitated as the female came running towards us. Then we sprang to obey our owner and barred her way just as she reached the gate.
Lubo pushed her violently and she stumbled backwards just as the master drew back his arm and threw his needle-sharp sword with all his might at her back. We heard the thud and the female fell backwards with the blade protruding from her bosom. ‘Your parent has been avenged, Oh Lumukanda,’ whispered Lubo in my ear.
Never before had I seen a night in which so much
