Taxes
Once again, Iarbas’s emissary stood before Elishat and her advisors. Through a combination of words and gestures, he presented Iarbas’s complaint that the settlers had expanded beyond the agreed-upon border. His demand was clear: the Queen must pay a tax for the extraction of lumber, the taking of fish, the quarrying of building stone, the digging of clay, and for the right to plant fields and graze their animals beyond the bottom of the hill.
The Lieutenant turned to Elishat and, patting his dagger, said quietly, “Queen, let me do away with this irritation right now.”
“I’m afraid that would make matters worse, Lieutenant. Please see that this man gets something to eat and drink.”
“As you wish,” he replied reluctantly, leading the man
away.
Elishat spoke boldly to her advisors, “First, a pair of
charming birds and now, a tax! Is there no end to this man’s intrusions?”
Barca pulled a smoothing hand across his beard. “Iarbas
has a point. We’re on his tribal lands. He’s never seen anything like it. We’re taking raw earth and turning it into riches before his very eyes.”
“So, do we pay him?” she asked.
“There’s nothing new in taxes,” Barca said.
“As long as we set the amount.” Bitias jabbed a finger in
the air.
Elishat paused and took a deep breath. “Alright, then, pay
him, but just enough to quench his thirst for control.”
Barca casually examined his fingernails. “Have you received any more partridges?”
“Thankfully, no. I can’t bear to think about it.”
“He is a powerful, handsome king.”
Elishat felt Barca testing her resistance. “To take his hand in marriage would mean that ‘powerful, handsome king’ takes my city, Barca. My city, my child. By Ba’al, I would rather die than see Qart-hadasht fall under his thumb.”
“There’s no need for oaths or extreme measures, Princess.”
“If I send him what he wants in taxes, perhaps he will forget about the mating habits of partridges.”
An awkward silence followed. Her advisors knew it would be impossible for Iarbas to forget the beautiful, high-spirited, clever Elishat.
“Very well,” Barca said. “We’ll send a small amount of silver and hope it will hold him off.”
Blues for the Unsung Queen 