The Temple of the LORD at Orvma
Horns blared as the King of Orvma made his way to the Temple of the LORD. They were rams horns, and the horn men were followed by rank and file of the royal guard, resplendent in stone lamellar armor and wood helms wreathed in copper plates. The King was borne in a sedan chair, so that his royal feet might not trod the dust of his city. The company following the royal Person was masculine. The High Queen did not accompany her king, as she never appeared in the Temple of the LORD.
Orvma was a dusky oval of brick between two hills. The city was made of eight rings, with the gates offset so no invader could drive straight through. It was a city designed for war, and was therefore was a tedious place to cross town.
Around and around the city wall the procession wound, horns blaring, and the people scattered. This was not a parade with showers of coin or bread. The King was on his business, and meant for a swift journey to the Temple. His people obeyed the horns. There was no need for the use of the whips to clear the crowds.
Finally the soldiers made their way to the steps of the Temple. The Temple was of sandstone faced with carved alabaster plaques, and topped with a beehive dome of marble blocks. The King waited impatiently as a carpet of stained ram's wool was hurled down the steps. The wool had been carefully dyed porphyry with snails' blood. It was a color reserved for the King. His chair was lowered, and the King rose and strode up the steps, carefully planting each foot firmly on the slippery wool. King Jason was used to the impractical symbolisms of royalty, but here was one that could actually break your neck.
The King rose to the level of the uppermost platform of the Temple, and frowned at the priests waiting for him. "Where is the High Priest? Have you not heard my entry? Did not my heralds proceed me?"
The twenty-four priests and acolytes, gathered on the platform with their oil lamps and lyres and censers and palm fronds, were noticeably agitated. A senior priest said, "O King, he awaits you in the Holiest Sanctum of the Temple."
"Oh." The king eased his frown slightly, then bore himself more regally, straightened his robes of office under the weighty chain of beaten gold swastikas about his shoulders. "Then I will await him here."
"O King," said the senior priest with some quavering, for one did not dispute easily with a King, "he asks that you join him within."
"Surely that is not what he said to you to say," said the King.
"He said...he begged the favor of your condescension, O King," stammered the priest.
"Good. Then I shall accommodate him. And remember the formalities when talking to royalty in future. I am inclined to forgive a priest of the LORD, but my--the...nevermind." The King strode through the clouds of incense towards the inner chambers of the Temple.
High Priest Mikhail was twenty five years older than the King and looked to be twice that old. His beard brushed his knees and he walked with a stoop from long years of reading. The King pushed through several layers of tapestry to stand in the Holiest Sanctum, which was an empty chamber with one bronze lamp.
“Bless me, Father,” said the King, and knelt to kiss the ring of the priest.
“Be blessed, O King,” said the priest, and made the sign of the cross over the penitent King.
“Now, what must be said for no one else to hear, Mikhail?” asked the King, rising to his feet.
Mikhail looked at him with eyebrows raised. “The LORD has given Orvma to the Xee. We must evacuate.”
The King stood in wonder. Then he said, “Evacuate my city?”
“Evacuate the valley. We must flee into Gepeth and Konon. Or perhaps the Northlands—“
He was stopped by the King’s harsh laughter.
“Do you think I’d do anything that insane?”
Mikhail pointed with a trembling finger. “Here it may be said what must not be said. This planet is given to the Xee. We were ordered not to come by an angel of the LORD—“
“That claptrap?”
“You dare dispute the History? In the Temple of the LORD?”
“It ain’t Scripture, as your Church is the first to admit. It’s just a traditional story, and obviously a fraud—“
“Silence!”
King Jason swallowed, then raised his fist in anger. The priest did not flinch. The king controlled himself.
“Do not order me, priest.”
“Kingdoms come and kingdoms go,” said the priest with a tremble. “The LORD sits in judgment of kings, and His justice is mightier—“
’I won’t hear the lectures again,” said the King. “Orvma has stood nigh on two thousand years. My family has ruled it for three hundred years. We won’t just walk off to be poor farmers in Gepeth or Konon…or slaves, or worse, just to make way for some damned bees.”
“The LORD has said, Orvma is given to the Xee, and next year they shall suck the nectar of the flowers of the valley. The LORD--"
"Cease to pretend to speak with the voice of an invisible god, priest. Kingdoms are real. The Xee are real. The people's faith in the Temple is real. Now, be a loyal subject and lead my people in prayers for victory over the Xee."
“You blaspheme! You blaspheme the LORD in his own Temple! God forgive you! God—“
The King left him, strode back to the steps, shoved his way through the twenty four priests and acolytes, and ran down the stairs without using the wool carpet. He stopped at the foot of the steps. Bad, bad form in running anywhere. Kings don’t run.
He wouldn’t run from the Xee.
“The palace,” he ordered the bearers, and closed the curtains of his chair. He hated horns.
King Jason's palace was of ornate sandstone, with royal lions above the gates. Inside the floors were a checkerboard of jasper and onyx, and the ceiling was carved fragrant cedar. High Queen Pelena paced the floor nervously. She was a tall, formidable woman with a commanding frown. She took after her father, who had been a Northland chieftain. She wandered alone, by order, and her maids scurried to follow out of sight but close enough to obey a summons. She enjoyed that most terrible prerogative of aristocracy: the attention of sentient beings.
She heard the horns announcing the return of her husband. That doddering fool of a priest! He had too much sway over her man, and this kingdom. It was no use being High Queen to a servant of the LORD. Her people taught a better, more ancient way.
King Jason entered the room, his face black with anger. His Queen bowed to him. “My lord, my master, my life, what would you?”
“Who listens?”
“None dare, my lord.”
“Yes? But you have spies everywhere. Don’t you deceive me too!”
“My spies…are special. But, none listen. What did that old fool say?”
“The LORD has given Orvma to the Xee.”
“…What?”
’He said we’re to evacuate.”
She blanched. “He dares?”
“Oh he dares alright. I assumed…it would be more diatribe against you, an unbeliever.”
“But to dare speak against our rule of Orvma itself,” she breathed.
He stopped pacing. “Our rule, woman?”
“Your rule, my lord. I only place myself with you as a wife ought—“
“Forget it, forget it.” He sighed and slumped. “My father warned me, against the power of the Temple. He warned me, and said someday I might have to promote a schism in the Temple.”
“A schism?” she asked.
“My own man for high priest. I just don’t have a candidate ready. All those priests under Mikhail are impolitic fools. I do believe he planned it that way, to thwart me. I could believe it…but to prophesy against the city itself!”
“You still plan on having the Temple then?”
“What? What are you saying?”
“My father’s people have no Temple. My father’s people—“
“—Wander aimlessly in the North! The Temple of Orvma predates the founding of the city itself! What nonsense has entered your head?”
“Hear me, O King. There are powers on Eden that answer to no Temple. They are real and forbidden to servants of the LORD—“
“Sorcery?” he roared. “You dare suggest I believe in that mumbo-jumbo of your pagan shepherds? By the—by my father’s line, I will have you—“
“Argomath, reveal yourself,” she said.
A great leathery demon, nine feet high, supported by ridiculously small wings, apported itself at her side. For a second time, Jason stopped himself in mid-strike.
“My special ear in the palace,” said Queen Pelena. “And there are others more powerful. Listen to me…”