[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“There will be much demand for saffron and myrrh and cinnamon, Majesty, if you can provide it.”

“My people have prepared for such trade and can accommodate your wishes, Master Trader, should you be able to provide a fitting payment for them,” spoke a calm voice, of a female timbre not young but not yet old either.

The Trader bowed low. “Indeed, Majesty, we can. I can offer quince seed and ambergris and leather, finely worked to a soft and supple state.” The merchant was short and lithe, with a face darkened by travel over the desert and lined by lashings of wind and sand, for he was of the nomad tribe, the Dabi, which crossed over sand as if it were a great sea.. He had made several crossings from Alanzia to Pashtia and back again, each time bringing more and more goods into the exchange. His demeanor was wary yet courteous; he seemed to know the Queen and her retinue, for this was not the first time he had negotiated trade.

They spoke in a large room of vaulted windows which on the one side gave out onto the gardens, pools and fountains of the inner Palace and then, on the other side with but two windows, onto the courtyard where the King held his audiences. The walls were covered with stucco and held in relief flowers, grapes, and great beasts. The lintel over the main door was carved with lotus plants. Around the windows looking out upon the King’s courtyard were carved griffons and lions while at their apex was a complex design of both the sun and the moon. It was as if the Queen’s quarters were balanced precariously between the splendors of the sophisticated Pashtian society and the ferocious might and strength which guided it. The Queen herself was surrounded by several ladies and attendants, some of whom worked at tapestries with needles and wool and yarn while others stood at a respectful distance from The Trader and the Queen. Guards stood at the door, but the general air was one of routine, daily activities for the royal retinue. However, before the Queen could accept the Trader’s offer of quince seed, a third voice spoke up.

“Mayiam, Majesty, come, the visitor arrives.” The young maid, Tabari, had been watching discretely at the open window which gave onto the King’s courtyard as the tall Emissary from the West walked up to the King’s dais. She had remained hidden behind a gauzy curtain and now withdrew to speak to the Queen, bowing as she did but then standing erect before the woman.

“You have well fulfilled my request, Tabari, to be my watchful eyes when I must attend to my duties and obligations. You bring honour to all Pashtian girls with your good work” Tabari beamed with the words of praise, which made her love her Queen even though some still remembered that she came from the land of the Enemy. With those words Queen Bekah rose from her seat of pillows on a richly embroidered couch of red and gold and moved softly towards the window, staying behind the curtain so no one, not even the shrewdest eye of the new arrivals, could have observed her. Her King would know she would be there, watching, but the new visitors would not. Behind her followed The Trader and her old nurse, Homay, who had come with her more than two hundred moons ago when the child bride followed her young husband to the foreign land. The three watched silently as the courtesies and formalities of the court were observed and listened as the murmurs of the attendant crowd suggested the various stages of the audience.

“Tabari, do you know if this Visitor stopped at the Obelisk and made his respects there?”

“I know not, Majesty, but I shall soon bring to you the information you require.” With a bow, the girl withdrew from the room, the guards opening the door for her.

The old nurse spoke up. “I have never seen a Westerner from beyond the Great Desert. They are tall and walk with assurance for all their courtesy.”

The Queen nodded at the old woman. “Homay, your eyes are as sharp as they have always been despite your years.”

“He seems to have offered the King something, which the King has accepted,” noted the Trader. Bekah looked back at the nomad who was the chief Merchant between Pashtia and her old country. “The men of the West are not known to us. Nor we to them. It is proper to offer respect and courtesies.”

The Trader bowed and remained silent, his closed lips suggesting that he would not offer further observations.

For her part, Bekah was greatly interested in this Emissary but she made sure to hide her keenness behind observations about the many others who attended him. She had caught a glint of light as the King’s hand had closed over the gift and she was made strangely anxious by the event. She wanted to dismiss her feelings, explain them away by assigning them to the troubling issues which everyone was currently discussing in the Pashtian court, but she found she could not forget them so easily. Why now, when trouble seemed to be around every tongue, did this harbinger from the West arrive” Yet to no one she spoke these words, but kept them in her head. Perhaps she would speak them later to her King, when court business was concluded and she could have his ear.

When most of the ceremonies seemed concluded, Bekah withdrew from the window and the two figures followed her.

“You have your agreement, Trader. I will accept what you offer in exchange for the saffron, myrrh and cinnamon which my people have prepared. You make take them to my half-brother, the King of Alanzia, with my commendations and tell him such trade makes his Sister-Monarch happy, for it secures peace between our two countries. Tell him also of the respect and courtesy with which the Western Messenger greeted my Lord King Faroz.”

“Majesty, the trade is concluded to our mutual happiness. I shall leave once the noon heat dissipates and carry your wishes on your behalf. “ With those words, The Trader bowed low and backed toward the door, keeping his face upon that of the Queen as he retreated.

The Queen looked around at her courtiers and attendants, who had maintained an expectant air wanting to hear more of this Emissary. “We have much to prepare for. The King has ordered a dinner tonight in honour of the Emissary from the West.” With those words, the room emptied as her retainers sought their own rooms and work and began preparations for the night’s splendour.

To the guards at her door Bekah spoke quiet commands. ‘send word that I wish to see prepared the burning of cedar and myrrh for the banquet tonight, which will put the deities as well as our guests and ourselves in a pleasant mood for the festivities. And prepare for me, as my offering to the Emissary, bouquets of myrtle and narcissus. He deserves to know personally our courtesies.” A guard nodded his understanding and withdrew.

Then she turned to her old nurse, Homay, who led her to the baths, where she was rinsed with sweetbriar and eglantine water and her hair was washed with leaves from the Lotus tree, and her skin was oiled with lavender and lily of the valley. Her hands were decorated with intricate designs of henna and her eyes kohled, her cheeks blushed with quazeh and vasmeh used to line her brows where her eyebrows had been plucked these many years ago when she became, while still a child, a married woman. Thus it was everyday she was prepared for her public audience with her King, but today she would be more splendidly dressed. Their private words on matters of state would come later, much later, if at all, for often these days the public audience was all she saw of the King.