Through the silence, an owl let out its solitary cry, just upsetting the still cold.
“And you have not seen him since that day?”
Daryun nodded in response to young Arslan’s question. The two were on a mountain road at dusk. The half-moon shining through the branches of a pine barely illuminated the two young men and their horses in its pale, silver light.
“Still, if that was all that happened, it’s hard to think of Father banning him indefinitely from the castle. Something else must have taken place.”
“Actually, there was something more…”
When he had absconded, Narsus had left a letter for Shah Andragoras. Learning what he could of the contents of that letter such as from his uncle Vahriz, apparently it had been out of line in its criticism of the government for the allowing of bends in the law. In it Narsus suggested things like forbidding the money lending of the priests, returning the representation of the karīz to the farmers, and proper upholding of the law regardless of one’s social status.
“My Shah, I implore you open your eyes to all that goes on within your kingdom. Not only that which is beautiful, but those aspects that are distasteful to look at as well.”
“Do not forget, Narsus, it was because of my blessing that you rose to your high position. I will not allow you lecture me,” the wrathful Andragoras said tearing up the letter and demanding Narsus be brought back to him. He was assuaged by Vahriz however, and besides that Narsus had already returned to the Daylam region. While he would not lift his decree of exile, this was preferable to Narsus, who seemed satisfied spending his days painting and studying foreign cultures from the quiet of his mountain retreat…
“So Narsus also fancies painting…?”
Prince Arslan meant very little by the question, but Daryun’s answer was more thoughtful than he had expected.
“I suppose no one is without weakness.”
Met by the prince’s inquisitive look, he continued. He sounded baffled as he added, “To put it simply, he has no talent for it. As a man who knows everything about the charting of stars, cultures of foreign lands, patterns of history, it must be said that when it comes to appraising his own talents with the brush, he is out of touch…”
Suddenly, a whooshing sound tore through the silent night. Under the pale moon, the two just barely made out what had stuck into the conifer. As they made to ease their horses who snorted anxiously through their nostrils, both clapped eyes on the arrow. It reflected the moonlight impaled in the tree’s trunk.
“Any further and the next one goes through your head, instead.”
From within the black forest came the voice of youth who sounded to be about Arslan’s age.
“Beyond this point is the home of former ruler of this realm, Lord Narsus. Entry by those who have not been invited personally is strictly forbidden. Before you meet with any unwanted harm, return from whence you came.”
Daryun now hollered, “It is Elam? I am Daryun, I come to visit your Lord after three years apart! Will you not let us through?”
After lingering seconds of silence, something stirred within the darkness, following which a large, shadowy figure approached them.
“Could it be? Lord Daryun, it has been so long. Though not enough to forgive my not recognizing you!”
The young lad carrying a quiver on his back and a short kelsak in hand bowed to Daryun. His uncovered hair gleaming black in the moonlight.
“I see you have grown, too. And how fairs your master?”
“He is well, thank you.”
“And, let me guess, he contains to accumulate piles of terrible paintings to be thrown away?”
The youth now gave a pensive look.
“I can’t comment on how good his paintings are. But I am under Lord Narsus’ care thanks to my parents’ last wishes. It was he who made them into free ahzart even though they were once goram,” the boy said as he guided them through the mountainous pass. Perhaps it was out of care for walking in the dark, but his steps were light, and certain.
The triangular mountain villa constructed of stone and wood stood at the border of a forest and meadow. From beneath the meadow the flow of a mountain stream could be heard, and above their heads glittered a sky full of stars. As the three approached, the door opened, and the light from the villa spilled onto the ground. The young man now rushed ahead to bow to his master, and Daryun also dismounted and spoke out,
“Narsus, it is I, Daryun!”
“Now my friends there’s no need for introductions here! Besides, I could hear you approach from a farsang away!”
While not so much as Daryun, the master of the mountain villa still possessed a tall and muscular form. His face looked kindly and intelligent, and in contrast with his rough tone, his eyes were full of a warm humor. He should have been a year younger than Daryun. His blue top and similarly hued pants gave off a youthful and unpretentious air.
“Narsus, this is…”
“The son of Shah Andragoras, Arslan. Daryun has told me much about you.”
“I hope only good things…”
Laughing, Narsus bowed, then turned towards their young guide.
“Elam, I hope it would not be too much to trouble you to prepare some vittles for our guests.”
After the undeterred youth had escorted their horses around the back, Daryun and Arslan were at last able to remove their armor as they circled the galley. They were surprised at the degree they were able to relax, if not completely.
The Lehtak boy now brought a large tray of food. Arslan and Daryun grew hungry at the delicious scents of nabid wine, chicken stew, honeyed thin bread, lamb and egg skewers, cheese, dried apples, dates and apricots. When they thought of it, no day had yet to try them as much as the present one, and yet it was true they had not eaten since their morning meal.
The two sat at a low wood table, and both resisted eating for a moment. Elam served them, and as Narsus poured the nabid slowly into goblets, the two looked to be observing the appetites of their guests.
When all the food presented had been completely tucked away, Elam cleared the table, brought forth after dinner tea, then returned to his room with a bow to his master.
“What a relief to enjoy an evening meal. You have my thanks.”
“No need to thank me, Prince Arlsan, your father once gave me 10,000 gold dinar. Today’s meal did not cost me a bronze drachm,” laughed Narsus who then looked at his old friend Daryun.
“Now then, while I already know the rough of it, tell me details of today’s events. It would seem our army was sorely defeated at Atropatene.”
To Daryun’s telling of the story of Pars’ defeat at the battle of Atropatene, Narsus listened intently as he sipped his tea. While his eyebrows furled at the reveal of Karlahn’s betrayal, he showed little surprise towards the tactics of the Lushtanians.
“Of course, the advantage of cavalry lies in its mobility. Reasonable that the only chance at victory against such a force would be to seal off movement. Surround themselves with moats and fences, fan flames, and utilize the mists. Employ a saboteur. There must be a man of culture within the ranks of the Lustanian rabble…”
“Yes, there is. And for the sake of Prince Arslan, I would like to borrow your own intelligence.”
“Daryun, I’m sorry, but the mortal realm no longer concerns me.”
“It must concern you more than the terrible paintings you create from within this mountain?”
At having his paintings be called terrible, Narsus’ expression soured.
“I understand why Daryun would say as much. You must not believe him, however, your majesty, for while I am well aware he is one of our kingdom’s heroes, who possesses the reason thereof, he clearly understands little of the arts. Truly it is lamentable.”
When Daryun began to protest, Narsus quickly dismissed him with a raised had.
“Art is eternal, kingdoms last for but a moment,” said Narsus with solemnity, though his guests seemed less impressed. Arslan remained silent in his consternation, while Daryun chuckled wistfully to himself. No way to respond but to laugh, most likely.
Regaining his composure, the prince spoke thus.
“Even it be but for one, I fear the current moment does not permit us stand idly by. Please, Narsus, share with us what you think of our situation.”
“Let’s see, give you my thoughts… The Lustanians believe in their one true god, Yaldabaoth. Under him, all followers are seen as equals, yet I have heard that the extermination of all heretics is demanded, as well. Such word at least come from a traveler from Maryam, but it’s likely they will seek to make another pile of corpses spanning from the fields to the hills of Ecbatana.”
“I won’t allow it. Please, how can we stop them?”
“Prince Arslan, it feels like this comes too late, but your father the Shah should have ended the enslavement of the goram. What reason do people oppressed by a kingdom have to fight for it?”
There was passion in Narsus’ voice now. His did not seem to be that of someone who had abandoned the material world.
“What lies down our current path, is apparent enough. The Lushtanians will offer salvation to those enslaved through the worship of Yaldabaoth, and subsequently freedom to those converted. If those freed take up arms against Pars, it will surely fall. As those converted goram vastly outnumber the aristocracy and holy men of Pars.”
Arlsan could feel the nerves in his stomach as he made to counter Narsus’ biting predictions of his kingdom’s peril.
“Yet, I believe Ecbatana will not fall. The castle’s walls barely shook when they were besieged by Misul, just last year.
Narsas now eyed the prince with pity.
“Highness, Ecbatna cannot hold. I know, while those walls are impenetrable by fire-arrow or by war-hammer, not all war tactics come from the outside.”
“You believe that the castle’s goram will act in accordance with Lushtania?”
“Yes, Daryun, I believe the Lushtanians will call to them from outside the castle walls. Slaves, rise and overthrow your oppressor, Yaldabaoth promises you your freedom as equals. This land and its prosperity are now yours, they will say. It will undoubtedly be effective.”
As he looked at Arslan who had swallowed his words so deep was he in thought, Daryun now offered a potential counter.
“Narsus is right, we must promise to make those goram who will fight for us into ahzart. And of course, to reward them for their service. This will stop the Lustanian’s plan to a degree, I’m sure. Though we don’t have long.”
“I would make return to Ecbatana, then, while we can. Narsus, is there no way you will join us?”
Narsus averted his eyes from the prince’s earnest gaze.
“I wish not to disappoint, but I intend to spend the rest of my days pursuing the discipline of art from this mountain home. What lays outside this villa no longer interests me. Please, do not think poorly of me. Though, really, how you would judge me matters not…”
In frustration, Daryun pushed the teacups on the table to side.
“Narsus, ‘Ignorance is the base of malice, and will never be an ally of the good,” or so someone once elegantly told me.”
“Elegantly, or perhaps pretentiously. Just who told you that?”
“It was you, Narsus. When we drank together, the day before you set off to Serica.”
“…What a specific thing to remember,” Narsus rebutted, but Daryun’s retort was soon to follow.
“They say that the Lushtanian’s also torture anyone who will not worship in the name of Yaldabaoth. Do you really think those who discriminate in the name of their god will free the goram in good faith?”
“Even so, those who are enslaved would likely be saved from their current oppression before thinking of their future fears,” declared Narsus, now turning back to the young prince.
“Prince Arslan, I am despised by your father. If you were to make me an officer of your court, it would only invite misfortunate. It would be a disservice to yourself.”
The concerned expression that Arslan took on so different from his father now turned to a dry chuckle.
“That won’t be an issue. I have also met with the disapproval of my father. Daryun, too, has invited his condemnation. On the contrary, I would say the three of us are in good company.”
Discerning whether his prince was being honest or cunning, Narsus now gave him a once-over. Looking over his neat countenance showing now a hint of guilt, Narsas let out a brief exhale.
“Wars and governments, both disappear like smoke. Only great art survives through dynasties. I beg your deepest pardon, but I cannot control what happens once you descend this mountain. I will do all that is in my power to help you from my current position.”“I understand, I apologize for asking you for that which you were incapable,” said Arlsan with a light smile, then he yawned his face suddenly showing his fatigue.