Dating : The Priest-King’s Mercy

Will delights or horrors await?

The noose removed, I allow myself a moment of relief. Mercy, after all, is better than the alternative.

But what is mercy here? Beheading? Ritual sacrifice? Drowning? Time will tell, I suppose.

I’m led down the scaffold, my hands bound behind my back. The scattered hisses from the crowd prove not everyone agrees with the gods’ injunction.

The priest-king and his entourage arrive — bodyguards and young women, perhaps virgin priestesses.

My erstwhile savior is less than pleased, his face a thinly-veiled mask of rage. I contemplate why as we walk. Perhaps ‘mercy’ is a delight. Maybe I’m to deflower that alluring brown-haired priestess before being buried alive?

We arrive at the palace. The entourage is reduced to the priest-king, one bodyguard, and myself. We enter a lavish room filled with scrolls. Incense lingers. The door shuts behind us.

“I trust you are wise enough not to harm me,” the priest-king says.

“Yes.”

He motions to his bodyguard, and my hands are unbound. As the bodyguard exits, the priest-king removes his ornate headdress and searches a wicker basket. He retrieves a knife and a strange fruit. As his knife separates the skin of the sunset-colored fruit, he asks, “Where you’re from, what is the punishment for killing a man?”

“Death by hanging.”

“Here, too. What about killing three?”

“Same.”

He takes a bite of the fruit. Fragrant juice runs from the corners of his almost-tawny lips. “Yet, you are alive. Why?”

I consider my words carefully. “The mercy of your gods,” I answer. At this, his scowl retreats, and he chuckles.

“You know nothing of our gods,” he says, tossing the fruit to me. Though hungry, I hesitate to eat it. I take in the strong scent and taste the tangy juice. “You know nothing of our culture. You don’t even know the orange is a great delicacy here,” he says, bemused by my ignorance. He goes on, “Our gods are… complex. Their will, mysterious. I merely interpret.”

I study the tapestries on the wall — scenes of torture, human sacrifice, and cannibalism.

“You wish to know the manner of your mercy?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“You’ll be freed. So that you may serve the gods.”

“By serving you?”

He smiles. “I am but their most humble servant. You shall be the same for me.” He turns to a particularly violent scene of torture. “Unless… you object?”

“I do not. But why the show? The noose? Your rage as we made our way here?”

“You’re a stranger, in a strange land. You’ve killed three men, and the people know it. They want you dead.”

“But, you don’t?”

He moves to a small washbasin and dips his hands in the water. “The men you killed, did you know who they were?”

“No.”

“They were nobles. Rich. Powerful. Men of great influence in these lands and beyond,” he says, pausing to wipe his hands. “And all of them, for many years, my enemies.”