The Emissary’s Report

Elishat breathed a sigh of relief at the gift of Iarbas’s birds. She took them as a sign that he wasn’t angry with her for tricking him out of a piece of land. Unaware of their deeper relevance, she thanked the emissary and handed the cage over to a palace servant. She invited the emissary to see the developments on the hill and thought nothing more about the gift until Barca asked.

“Oh, yes, a pair of birds,” she said. “He sent them as a peace offering.”

“What kind of birds?” Barca asked.

“Partridges.”

“Male and female?” Bitias asked, sounding suddenly concerned.

“Yes, male and female.”

“More than a peace offering, Queen.”

“Come now, Bitias,” she said, waving him away. “I don’t have time for such nonsense.”

“That may be true, but his message is clear.”

“I will not allow him to ruin our plans with a silly infatuation, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Take it from your advisors, Queen. He is pursuing you.”

“I have no interest in birds or courtship. I’m only interested in seeing my city come to fruition.”

“We need to be careful how we handle Iarbas,” Barca interjected calmly. “If he gets testy, he could make trouble for us.”

Meanwhile, the Amazigh emissary walked the hill in amazement. He had heard of magnificent cities in the lands to the east but never had he imagined that such a place could bloom overnight like a flower in the desert. Furthermore, from where he stood, he could see that everyone was ignoring the boundary of the hill. They tramped into the forest to the west. They had already laid out an area for boat building, and their goats and sheep were grazing freely into the hills to the north. Furthermore, the local Amazigh people were growing more and more involved in the new city. They had shown Elishat’s people where to find wild mushrooms, good fishing spots, and minerals to make paint. They had advised on which of their animals should be mated with the settlers’ flock in anticipation of the next lambing season. Some had already learned a few words of the settlers’ language.

The emissary returned to Iarbas with a flood of news. The Queen had not rejected the gift. She had not opened the door of the birdcage and set the birds free as would have been the customary rejection of a romantic overture. She had reciprocated with a handsomely decorated oil lamp, into which Iarbas read the symbolic glow of passion, or at least the possibility of it. But there was more. The emissary told of the amazing transformation being brought to the hill. The newcomers were taking game from the forest, clay from the earth, fish from the sea. They had already built stone steps to the top of the hill and erected the foundations for a temple and a palace.

Iarbas felt a lump in his throat. “Were there weapons?” he asked.

“No, just half-built homes and an intolerable din all day long.”

Iarbas rested his chin in his hand. If the Queen was taking resources from beyond the hill, he had every right to exact a tax from her. Perhaps if, following the tender gift of the partridges, he made a move from a position of strength, the queen would be impressed by the full dimension of his authority and accept his proposal that they unite their people under one royal family. Yes, he thought, that was it. He dispatched the emissary once again, this time with a more commanding message.

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