Kings and Pawns of Flesh and Bone

Chapter 4 - Long Live the King

One hundred emotionless faces rode to Amman atop mares as stone-faced as their riders. Few words were exchanged, and the men of the Marwanad expedition spared more words with their horses than with their kinsmen. The steady hoof-steps of hundreds of horses was all that broke the desert silence. Ghazi felt his short legs grow numb from hours of riding through the desert. Worse still, his tongue grew numb from its lack of use. Ghazi rode a steel grey Arabian which he named Sakhr. A strong, majestic beast, fit for a prince. He rode directly behind Khaled, ever proud and noble, with his back upright like a wall. The king rode Layl, a horse blacker than night. The beast swayed with a swagger. Ghazi had never imagined a horse could look smug, but somehow the king's horse managed to pull it off.

Despite his youth, Ghazi had long since become familiar with the customs of diplomatic missions and Marwanad displays of power. As such, it struck him as odd that he recognized so few of the men he rode with. None of the seasoned diplomats he knew from the Marwanad inner circle were among the travelers. Most of the traveling men carried faces severely worn from military campaigns. Fighting men, with the scars to prove it. In fact, the only face familiar to Ghazi was that of his uncle. Periodically, men would rush from the front or the back of the convoy and exchange a few inaudible words with Khaled, and scurry back to their place in line. Most of the time, the men prowled through the empty desert without a care in the world. 

No one could have prepared Ghazi for the mental and physical exhaustion of such a journey. If the days were arduous and isolating, then the nights were lonely beyond description. Sleep avoided Ghazi like a debtor who owed him money. His discomfort was expected. The desert floor was, of course, a very poor mattress. The sounds were foreign, and invasive. The expanse of the desert made shapes out of the darkness, and demons out of nothing at all. Worst of all, he could not forget what happened to him during the chess match, and his subsequent conversation with Nawfel.

It took nearly three days before Khaled and Ghazi engaged in something resembling a conversation. Khaled sat upright across from a roaring fire underneath the desert stars. A thick layer of traveler's dust nestled into his beard. He no longer glistened like the king Ghazi was so used to seeing. Though, he was still a fair bit cleaner than most of the men on this expedition. Khaled's blank face reflected the orange hue of the flames. Only the two of them remained awake, and he motioned for Ghazi to come near.

"Do you know why we are here?" asked the king. Ghazi shook his head, absent-mindedly. "You have royal blood running through your veins. And some day, boy, you may amount to something. Now listen carefully. Are you listening? Good. Some people have rebellion in their spirit. The chiefs of the southern confederates are such a people, and I can not change that. They are proud, strong men who lead a devout warring people." Khaled stared into the fire, his elbows tucked into his knees. "They are as comfortable on horseback as they are on their feet, and unquestioning in their loyalty to their leaders. Do I still have your attention, boy? Good. Now, as you can see, I have few options. Any king can go to war – and war is an option." He turned away from the fire, and stared directly at Ghazi. "A hammer is a valuable tool, never to be disposed of. However, it is not always the best tool. Sometimes, something more subtle, more surgical is required." Khaled stopped speaking and poked the fire with a stick. The silence was long enough that Ghazi was not sure if would continue. And then he did. "The strongest kings, Ghazi, the best kings, are the ones who can make peace. This trip will be about establishing a long and meaningful peace in the south. Do you understand me, boy?" Ghazi nodded anxiously, re-assuring his uncle that he still commanded his attention. He commanded, in fact, only enough attention to ensure the conversation would come to a prompt end. He longed for the cosiness of his home on the Mediterranean coast, the breeze of the sea, and the comfort of his bed. "Any questions?".