Samir And The High King



  Samir and the High King

  A Christmas Story for Children

  John Peace

  Copyright 2012 John Peace

  John Peace drip-feeds a couple of blogs at: https://johnmpeace.blogspot.ca/

  ISBN: 9781301016679

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  SAMIR AND THE HIGH KING

  Afterword

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  Many, many years ago in a distant land of camels, donkeys and palm trees, incense and spices, there lived a boy named Samir. He was born in a small village at the edge of a huge desert, where the wind whistled a lonely tune over the sand dunes and rocky land, and the sun beat down every day. His father kept an old sword above the door to protect his family from desert raiders. His parents had so many children to feed that they finally had to send Samir and his older brother Hamdan away to his great-uncle's house in the town, down on the coast. It broke their parent's heart, and the boys missed their family terribly, but in the spring, Great-Uncle Nasir found Samir work as a servant in the house of a great man, saying, "He is the wisest man who ever lived. He travelled across the world to Persia, to study there, and now he's come home again. If you serve him well, he will treat you well."

  The Great Sage Al-Thazir Al-Hakiim seemed to be an ancient old man to Samir, as he stood before his new master that first day, although he was perhaps forty. His beard was black, not grey, and his eyes were sharp and seemed to stare right through Samir's skin. He wore a long robe of grey and blue, and fine leather sandals. On windy days a glittering silver scarf hung around his neck and wound around his head. He cleared his throat loudly and said, "A boy will be a boy, but in my house you will grow into a man. I won't abide with laziness or trickery."

  Samir assured him that he would always do his best.

  In return for his work, Samir received a mat to sleep on, meals in the kitchen with the other household servants, and every year a bag of coins to take back to his family in the village.

  Al-Thazir Al-Hakiim lived in a large, dignified house built of mud bricks, covered in plaster. The servants' quarters, the kitchen and storerooms were on the ground floor, with a room for the sheep, goats and chickens to sleep in at night. A wide flight of steps led up to the front door of the upper floor, where the great man lived with his wife. There was also a narrow stairway that led from the kitchen to the upstairs hallway. Their six children had grown up and moved away, but his father-in-law lived in the house with Al-Thazir and his wife. The rooftop was flat, as is usual in that part of the world, and very wide. There was a wide view of the town's flat rooftops, the high ground where the Sultan's palace stood, the hills to the north, and the fields leading down to the coastal plain. Samir couldn't see the sea, but he knew it was away down there somewhere. He'd seen it once, with his great-uncle.

  But there was no time for daydreaming. So Samir got busy straight away, sweeping and dusting the Great Sage's study, which had been built, of all places, on the roof of the house, and was piled high on every bench and shelf with scrolls and parchments. There was one window, high up in the wall to one side, and a morning sunbeam shot through it and lit up a shaft of dust that twinkled and swirled as he swung the broom across the floor. Up on the wall hung a huge parchment showing many drawings of different animals dancing in a circle around the sun, joined together with lines and tiny, scrawled words.

  A dark grey tomcat came and went as he worked. His duty was to hunt the rats which loved nothing better than to nibble at the goatskin parchments. He ignored Samir's clucking attempt at a greeting.

  Before he'd properly finished, the Great Sage stepped into the study. "Out you go now, boy, I'm locking up," he said.

  Samir obeyed, but was puzzled as the great man then went downstairs, entered his bed chamber and shut the door. He found out from the cook that their master slept for most of the day, and worked all night in his rooftop study. Samir thought this very strange. Before he could ask why, the cook made him busy with carrying in a heavy sack of flour from the storeroom.

  Samir wasn't the only servant boy in the household. Ali was younger and cheekier than Samir. He had dark, curly hair and a button nose. As Samir came back in from the store, puffing hard beneath the weight of the flour sack, Ali was sitting up on the cook's workbench and staring hard at Samir. "Don't drop it, or you'll get beaten!" he chirped.

  The cook shooed Ali away. "Get down from there, you!" she scolded. "You may be the master's nephew, but I won't have you loafing around. Go and feed the chickens!" Ali laughed aloud and ran off up the stairs to the living quarters. "The chickens are the other way, you little goat!" she called.

  Samir put down the sack with a big sigh. "I'll feed the chickens if you'll tell me why the master works all night," he offered.

  The cook, a heavy woman with a round, wrinkled face, regarded Samir solemnly. "Ever since he came back from his travels, he looks at the sky and seeks wisdom from the stars," she said. "Although... I've never known a star to speak, but what would I know?" She laughed, and handed Samir the chickenfeed box.

  As Samir threw handfuls of grain to the clucking chickens, he decided he must find out why anyone would look for wisdom in the sky. He would ask the Great Sage that evening, when he was awake again.

  After a busy day running errands and cleaning the house from top to bottom, Samir was exhausted. As he ate supper in the kitchen he could faintly hear Al-Thazir's voice from upstairs, where he ate his meal with his wife and her aging father. Outside, the sunset lit up the sky with sheets of orange and pink. He went upstairs with Ali to clear away the dishes. Ali dropped a clay bowl half-full of cold broth - he seemed very clumsy - and Samir was told to help clear up the mess. It was so busy that he forgot to ask Al-Thazir his question.

  Finally the house was quiet, and the servants all went to bed. Samir unrolled his mat on the rooftop, where the air was cool, and the moon and stars were already shining down. It was tempting to close his eyes and sleep, but he was desperate to find out about the Great Sage's work. So he stood, and crept across the rooftop. Over by the open door to Al-Thazir's study was an untidy pile of old brass bowls and trays, and Samir slid behind it. He could just see the Great Sage sitting cross-legged on a mat, studying a flat piece of goatskin parchment by the light of several tall candles. He was sitting near the doorway so that he could look out at the sky. So far he hadn't noticed Samir.

  Al-Thazir kept putting down one parchment and picking up another. Sometimes he would pick up his reed pen and scratch some marks in columns on another parchment. He seemed to be in a hurry. Samir watched, fascinated.

  But the day had been hard on Samir. I will just rest for a moment, he thought, laying his head on the floor. He fell fast asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Suddenly there were footsteps on the stairs leading up to the rooftop. Samir sprang awake and shrank back behind the pile of brassware. Al-Thazir had put everything down and was standing at the door of his study with his face turned to the east. If he turned around and looked down, he would spot Samir. Samir froze, sure that he would be discovered and beaten for his impudence.

  In the east the sky showed a hint of paleness. The Moon was rising there, a thin crescent, with a bright star next to it. He had slept away the whole night! But the Great Sage stared at the Moon for some time, muttering to himself, before rushing back to his parchments, unaware that he was being watched.

  So he does listen to the stars, Samir said to himself. But I didn'
t hear them say anything. Perhaps they had spoken while Samir was asleep.

  Another bearded man walked across the rooftop and paused at the entrance to the study. "My good friend Al-Thazir," came a deep voice, "I read your message and I have come as you asked, just before dawn." To Samir, the visitor sounded like an old man.

  Al-Thazir answered as he stood up to embrace the newcomer. "Abdul Malik," he said, excitedly. "I am so glad you could come. You must see the latest results of my research! It's like nothing else that I've seen or read about in my entire life."

  They talked more, and Samir didn't understand much of it. He thought they mentioned the very names of some of the stars. Samir had learned a few of the shapes of the constellations - the Hunter, the Serpent, the Lion - but to know the stars' names was knowledge too wonderful for him. How could anyone find out a star's name - unless perhaps the star told you?

  Then he pricked up his ears when Al-Thazir said, "But last night I noticed something else. The planet Marduk is in the constellation of the Ram, as is Ninurta. And so-"

  His visitor, Abdul Malik, held up a hand. "Wait, my friend. I am not familiar with the Babylonians, and all those books of the Magi that you have read. When I lived in Rome, all those years ago, they knew next to nothing about the Babylonians or the Zoroastrians. What do the Romans call Marduk?"

  "Jupiter," said Al-Thazir. "Jupiter, Abdul Malik. And Ninurta is Saturn. They are passing through the Ram, and tonight the Moon is moving to hide the mighty ruler of the heavens. I saw it just now with my own eyes. This dawn, all three of them - Jupiter, Saturn and the Moon - are in attendance on the rising Sun, in the east. Do you know what this means?"

  Abdul Malik gasped. "A ruler! The birth of a great and mighty ruler!"

  "Exactly. I knew you would see it. It's an astonishing sign - as if a great god has moved the stars and written it especially for us. But what I do not know is where this child-king is to be born. Marduk is in the Ram-"

  "Aries," added Abdul Malik.

  "Yes. But which royal house owns that sign? I have scoured my writings all night."

  Abdul Malik nodded to himself. "Ah. I think I know where to look. I remember some words in the Book of Bilqis." Now Samir was interested. The story of Queen Bilqis was one that he'd heard often on his mother's lap. She'd been a wise ruler of the great kingdom of Saba, on the western edge of the desert far to the north of Samir's country. Her journey to a strange land far across the desert was only a part of her story.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Al-Thazir's eager questions. His friend asked him if he owned a copy of a certain book, and soon they were reading it out. They finally found what they were looking for as the sun first shot its lances of fiery light over the lip of the world.

  "Listen," whispered Abdul Malik. "It says... oh, I'm forgetting my Latin! Here: Aries, being the sign of the royal house of Jacob, the nation known as Israel in the Syrian province."

  Al-Thazir was excited. "We must send someone to greet this great king! According to this clear sign in the heavens, he will be immortal and divine. He will rule over the whole world. We must convince our Sultan to make an alliance with him, with this nation of Israel. Then we will have peace, and we will be safe from the desert tribes."

  Abdul Malik stood and paced on the roof. Samir screwed his body up as small as it would go. "Yes," said the old man. "Now I remember this Israel. They had a king named Solomon, whom Queen Bilqis visited all those years ago. He, too, was a mighty king."

  "But not like this new king," added Al-Thazir, in awe. "This king will be the High King, and he will reign forever, if the stars speak truly. There is much mystery surrounding him. We must leave soon, if we are to honour him soon after his birth."

  Abdul Malik sounded alarmed. "But you can't really mean to make this journey! It's all the way across the world! It's the other side of the great desert! Are you serious?"

  "Quite serious, my friend," Al-Thazir replied quietly. "And you should come too. But we must secure the Sultan's support."

  Just then a muscle in Samir's leg chose to cramp, and he couldn't help twitching sideways, knocking against the pile of brassware. Several great plates of yellow metal, gleaming in the morning sunlight, clattered to the floor.

  Chapter Three

  The two men cried in alarm, but seeing no one but a boy huddled there, calmed a little. Al-Thazir pulled him to his feet and demanded to know what he had been doing there. He tried to roll into a ball, sure that he would be soundly beaten. When no beating came, he peered up at Al-Thazir.

  "Answer me, boy! What were you doing there?"

  Samir stammered out his reply: "I - I wanted to know why you study the stars all night."

  The Great Sage stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "A boy will always be a boy! Why, because I will never see the stars by the light of day, that is for sure!" Abdul Malik chuckled with him.

  "Well, no matter that you were listening to our conversation," Al-Thazir went on. "We will need to bring servants on this expedition - perhaps you will be able to come along."

  Hearing this, Samir stood and straightened up. He could hardly believe it. Him? Travel to see the High King?

  "Yes," said Abdul Malik, with a decisive nod. "I will come with you, my friend, though my old bones protest. We must make our preparations today, and leave tomorrow at first light. Now, what gifts can we take that would be worthy of an emperor?"

  And so that day was a storm of activity for everyone in the house. Samir was rushed off his feet, and he regretted that he hadn't slept well. His heavy limbs kept calling him back to bed. But he was put to work cleaning Al-Thazir's camel saddle, carrying orders to shopkeepers in the marketplace, feeding the chickens as usual, taking a bag of lamb bones up for the cat, and helping the cook prepare large bags of dates and nuts for the long journey.

  After a hurried lunch and more errands, he was sent off to the goldsmith's workshop to collect a heavy bag. Al-Thazir had told him it was something important and valuable, but that he must not open the thick leather bag. The return journey, carrying the heavy load, took half an hour and strained his hands and arms, but at last he reached the house. As he paused for breath by the kitchen, the smells of dinner were almost overwhelming. "Food's ready, Samir," called the cook.

  He dragged the bag up the stairs, past the living quarters to the roof, to Al-Thazir's study and left it in a rare empty spot on a bench. The Great Sage was busily rolling parchments and packing them into a chest, while giving instructions to a camel driver who had been hired for the journey. Samir dared not interrupt, but was sure that he would notice the bag he'd asked for. Besides, Samir couldn't wait to get downstairs and eat.

  Later, as he trudged back upstairs to reach the roof and his sleeping mat, Al-Thazir himself noticed him from where he was sitting in his lounge with Abdul Malik and the camel driver, discussing the route they would take. "Ah, boy! Sleep soundly, because tomorrow you will come with us to visit the new High King!" Samir nodded and thanked him from the depths of his heart before continuing on his way to bed.

  Ali passed him in the hallway and glared at him. He had been full of jealous spite since learning that Samir had a chance of going with the men and he did not. Samir tried to smile in a friendly way, but he was too tired.

  While it was still dark, Samir awoke to a hand on his shoulder. "It's time to go," Al-Thazir said, stooping over his mat. Samir jumped up and was soon rushing down the stairs to the kitchen.

  Just as he was hurrying to the last flight of stairs, Ali appeared from the hallway and barged ahead of him. Samir pushed forwards, and they both went tumbling down the steps into the kitchen. Samir felt a violent pain in his left leg and heard a crack, as both of them landed in a heap on the cold tiles. He cried out in agony and tried to lift the leg off the floor. "My leg!" he gasped.

  "Serves you right," hissed Ali, who stood up quickly, unscathed. He went to sit at the table.

  Samir was soon being treated by the cook as he lay on the kitchen fl
oor, panting with the effort not to cry. Soon Al-Thazir came in to see what the noise was about. He had treated broken bones before, and knew how to splint the leg. "That's unfortunate," he muttered, glancing up at Ali. "You know that we can't take you now. You'll have to lay down for many weeks before the bone heals properly. Otherwise you may never be able to walk again. I'm sorry." He stood and walked to the stairs, then stopped. "Ali, you must come instead," he said wearily. "But you must obey my orders and be on your best behaviour."

  Ali jumped up and cheered, dancing around the table, narrowly avoiding treading on Samir.

  Later, Samir lay on his mat which had been moved down to the servants' quarters. He could hear the bells attached to the camels' necks and saddles, he could smell the smell of them as they were gathered in the courtyard and just outside the gate. Al-Thazir and Abdul Malik had talked the Sultan into sending fifty of his own camels along, with men experienced in long journeys, and he had also contributed half of the supplies they would need. Samir could hear the men talking to each other and muttering to their camels. Then the chief camel driver called an order, and with a great commotion of movement and camels groaning, hissing and gurgling, the whole caravan slowly trod its way out of the courtyard and away from the house, up the hillside and out of the town.

  Samir was staying behind, and there was nothing he could do but lie still and get better. Ali was going along, as camp boy. His duties would be to gather firewood, fetch water and run errands for the others when they were camped for the night. Samir felt a growing anger in his heart. He should have been going along on the expedition, not that spoilt brat!

  Chapter Four

  He had a long time to think about his loss. A whole week passed, in which he had nothing to do but stare at the walls of the little room where he lay. He could sit, but he dared not swing his legs off the mat or try to stand. Al-Thazir had warned him sternly to keep his legs still and rest for at least a month. Samir could hardly imagine resting for a whole day, let alone a month.