Triple Bill

Having won the hill, the Queen wasted no time in gathering her planning team. She tapped them, regardless of gender or station, for their knack for solving problems: keen observers who could read the contours of the hill and decide where to place the buildings; designers who could draft courtyards, cisterns, and stairways before the first course of stone was laid; inventors who could devise systems to carry away waste and rainwater. None of them had any real-life experience in building a city from scratch. Nevertheless, they brought their ideas to their first planning session and were deep in discussion when the Priestess approached, escorted by two temple maidens. Everyone knew that the Priestess seldom spoke and that whenever she did, it was a good idea to listen. They invited her to sit with them and served her a glass of strong mint tea. Her tone was gentle but firm.

            “Some time ago, Queen Elishat promised that her first and highest priority in the new land would be the building of a temple to Ashtart. The time has come to make good on that promise. Before any other building can be undertaken, the temple cornerstone must be laid and consecrated with all the necessary ablutions. At the same time, Elishat must be coronated and declared queen of the land she now commands.”

            “Thank you for reminding us,” Elishat replied. “You are correct, of course. We will devise the plan for the temple and lay the cornerstone immediately.”

“May I propose one modification?” the Priestess said.

“Gods willing, I will grant it.”

“When we consecrate the new temple, let’s take a step away from the past.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s honor Ashtart as Tanit in the new land. In giving Ashtart a new name, we will continue to honor her as our patroness while bringing something unique to the city.”

“A refreshing idea. I like it. Let’s make it so.”

            When the ceremony was announced, several couples who had been courting since Kommos asked permission to declare their commitment in marriage at the same time. Thus, the consecration, the coronation, and the wedding ceremony brought the community together all on the same day. Barca was still rationing food, so it would be more of a picnic than a feast, but the musicians dusted off their instruments and prepared for the triple bill. By now, everyone knew that Amaal’s flute had gone down with Tondo’s ship. Still, it pained her to hear the musicians tuning up without her. The Queen’s advice to find a new path had left her with a restless feeling of being everywhere and nowhere, and it followed her into the day of celebration.

Admiral Bitias performed the nuptials on the deck of the Arbiter. He spoke nautically about the enduring condition of marriage. One partner represents the voyage, he said, and the other, the homeport. A lasting marriage begins anew again and again, like the ebb and flow of the tides, sailing through fair and foul weather across the great sea of life. He asked each couple if they had taken their decision freely, and when they said they had, he announced them joined in marriage by his power as admiral of the fleet. The witnesses waiting on shore cheered the newlyweds and practically carried them up the long steps to the top of the hill to witness the consecration and coronation.

The temple cornerstone had been hauled with great effort to the apex of the hill. The temple maidens stood along the footprint of the future temple, holding smoldering bundles of sage whose plumes of fragrant, white smoke rose into the sky. Hannu and the other musicians played a set of music as loosely arranged as the temple maidens’ hair. The Priestess appeared in full make-up, flowing robes, and a high cone crown. The ritual killing of a cockerel made everyone cringe as food stores were limited, but they believed that the sacrifice to the gods would bring abundance in return. She tapped sage ashes and poured wine and crushed juniper berries onto the cornerstone and proclaimed the city’s dedication to the goddess Tanit.

“Dedication to the gods embodies the meaning of life.” she said. “It is how we come to understand the lasting nature of all things and the purpose of our existence.”

Amaal’s ears perked up. The Priestess seemed to be speaking directly to her. Dedication and purpose. The words sounded like distant lands that she needed to reach without knowing where they were or how to get there. The piney aroma of juniper filled Amaal’s nose, but the goddess Tanit provided no further inspiration.

The Priestess finished her blessing and walked across the hilltop to the place where Elishat, in full make-up, ceremonial robes, and horn moon pendant, sat on her makeshift throne. A temple maiden stood next to her, holding a conical crown. The Priestess lifted the crown and spoke for the crowd to hear. “By the blessing bestowed upon her by the gods, by the wisdom of the ancients who preceded her, by the right granted to her by noble birth, with this crown, I hereby pronounce Elishat, Queen.” The Priestess placed the crown on Elishat’s head and the people roared and whistled and cheered and refused to stop. After all they had been through, the feeling of pride in seeing their queen finally crowned was overwhelming. Elishat stood up and stepped away from the throne. She faced the crowd and opened her arms, a gesture of embrace that delighted them even more. It wasn’t until she started to speak that they quieted down to hear what she had to say.

“How does one reign as queen?” she began.

Someone from the back of the crowd yelled out, “However you wish, Queen!”

Elishat let the wave of laughter guide her words. “A queen brings honor to her people. She elevates not only her court, but all of her people. A queen can make only one promise: to serve to the best of her ability. Whatever privilege she has been afforded, she conveys to her people. That, with the blessing of the gods, is my promise to you.”

The crowd applauded in heartfelt agreement.

“Today we begin in earnest to build our city. Perhaps you were thinking that the Queen and her administrators would tell you how to do that.”

The round of laughter told Elishat that her people had long ago dispelled such notions.

“My commands will be general in nature, made out of necessity, based on the advice of our planners. Beyond that, each of you must bring this city into existence. Years from now, you will walk with your grandchildren and say, ‘I laid the stones to make this road,’ ‘I planted the fruit trees in this orchard,’ ‘I dug this harbor,’ ‘I built this house.’ There will be challenges that no one can foresee. We will stumble, and we may fall, but, gods willing, we will pick ourselves up and begin again. We will make mistakes, and if we admit to our errors and beg forgiveness, we will be pardoned, and move on. This will be our triumph, and hear me well: the triumph of one, no matter how small, is a glory bestowed by the gods and shared by all.

“There is no single way to build a city. There are as many ways as there are hearts and hands gathered here. Coming to agreement will sometimes be difficult. I hereby name Bitias and Barca as counselors for mediating disputes as they arise. They have experience in guiding difficult people in difficult circumstances.” She paused briefly, and the audience chuckled as they understood that she was talking about herself. “Go to them. This is my wish and my command.”

Elishat looked to the edges of the crowd where a number of local Amazigh people had gathered to watch the proceedings. “I see, too, among us, those people who are native to these lands. You are welcome to join us in our endeavor. May the gods and goddesses bless this day, these marriages, this temple, our people, and this, our new city.”

            The Queen called for her staff, a rod of smooth ebony with a golden ram’s head at the top. She held it up and looked past the coastal plain to the sun-splashed turquoise sea.

“I hereby decree that this city shall be called ‘Qart-hadasht!’ Thus, it is named!”

The crowd roared like never before. Drums boomed, shakers rattled, pipers squealed. In a world of ancient cities—Ur, Memphis, Jericho—Qart-hadasht, “new city”—was truly unique. The people would eat from new dishes, live in new homes, even breathe new air. Within a generation or two, they would produce an entirely new culture unlike any the world had ever seen.

The Queen returned to her throne and sat overlooking the hill, staff in hand, while the people proceeded to the temple cornerstone and made simple offerings—flowers, mostly, as they had little else to give—to honor Tanit, their new patron goddess. The celebration that followed was joyful but brief, not for lack of affection or interest but because everyone was itching to get started building “Qart-hadasht”—their new city. Everyone, that is, except for Amaal.

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