Today’s story was chosen and scheduled long before I made the reluctant decision to make the announcement below, so the title and subtitle are pure coincidence!
This will be the last weekly excerpt/short story/poem: my involvement in several community writing projects, writing (and researching) the novel-in-progress, and other real life commitments and activities means I simply can’t keep up the pace. The serialization of Empress & Soldier continues and so, I hope, will my weekly roundup This Writer’s Diary. There will be more stories, just not weekly or to any schedule, although I’ll continue posting them on Saturdays when they do appear.
And now on to today’s story.
This excerpt from Empire’s Heir was inspired entirely by Leonard Cohen and Sharon Robinson’s song Alexandra Leaving, itself inspired by the poem The God Abandons Antony by C. P. Cavafy – which in turn is based on a passage from Plutarch (Mestrius, in my fictional world) that tells of:
‘how Antony was besieged in Alexandria by Octavian. On the eve of Octavian's attack, suddenly in the middle of the night there were sounds of instruments and voices of a procession making its way through the city, stopped only at the gates of the city…a sign that Anthony's patron and protector: the god Dionysus (Bacchus), was deserting him.’ 1
In Empire’s Heir, I reworked the theme again to reflect the narrator’s (Cillian) loss, not of just Casil, an analogue of Rome, but of the life of learning and teaching he’s been leading for the last seventeen years – and the presumed change in the relationships among the four main characters that will result. Becoming his daughter’s chief advisor as she shoulders the role of Principe of her country demands much of not just Cillian, but of them all.
I made my way out onto the balcony. One of the guards outside Gwenna’s room turned, saw me, nodded. Overhead, stars glittered.
I leant on my cane, looking up at the unchanging stars. They had hung over this city since its founding; watched it rise from a village, the buildings and walls of brick appearing, and then the temples and columns and the palace of marble and splendour. They would watch over it still when its grandeur had crumbled to dust.
Soft footsteps approached. Sorley. He stood beside me. “What are you thinking?”
“Of impermanence.” His hand touched mine. I allowed it for a moment, but the guards were too close.
“Will you walk with me?” I asked. “I would like to look out at the city.”
We made our way along the corridor, the torches lighting our way, and out onto the open space that overlooked the forum. Fire flickered in some of the temples, and a few people moved between them: priests, servants, thieves.
Sorley kept a hand on my back: a friend supporting an infirm man, nothing more. I looked out at the hills beyond, at the glow of distant lamps in windows, the barest outline of buildings revealed by moonlight. From somewhere, the sound of a cithar drifted up to us.
“Mestrius—he wrote the lives of illustrious men, both of Casil and before—tells of a ruler who conquered a great city to the east,” I said. “The night before it was lost to him, he heard, in the early hours, a procession of musicians, of voices and instruments.”
“The god who had protected him, departing. I remember Perras reading that.” His hand moved on my back. “Your god has not left you, mo gràhadh.”
“Perhaps not,” I said. “But Casil is lost to me. I will not come back, Sorley. I am too old to make the journey again.”
I heard footsteps below us, and the notes of the cithar. A bat swooped, and another. “You never went to the libraries,” Sorley said.
“No.” A breeze caught at my hair; cold, carrying the bite of autumn. “Gwenna wants me to stay at Wall’s End as her advisor.”
“Will you?”
“How do I say no? Had I not refused the succession, she would not be Principe at eighteen. I have had seventeen years as Comiádh. It is time I remembered my other commitments.”
He took a breath. “What does Lena say?”
“That it suits her. It is where she would have gone when we returned, regardless.”
“Druise will insist on guarding Gwenna.”
“Yes.” I turned, resting a hand on his arm. “The Ti’ach is not far for a good horseman, Sorley.” Another bat swept by, its high chittering faintly audible.
“Earlier,” he said, “when I went to see the Empress, Alekos was there too. He asked me if I would ensure Bjørn knew of his request; he was concerned his men would not reach the north before the river froze.
“I told him I would: I would ride to the trading port and seek word of him, and if necessary I would go further. I will be gone for some weeks, once we reach home.”
“And then?”
“Then I will go to Dun Ceànnar and ask Ruar to make me Linrathe’s envoy to Ésparias again. I am sure the Principe can be persuaded to write to him with the same request.”
“Your appointment to the Ti’ach is for life,” I reminded him, controlling the rising hope.
“I am the head of the council. Rules can be changed. And Ésparias needs music taught in its schools.”
I offered my arms, not trusting myself now to speak. He stepped into them, his head against my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, holding him close, his hands tight on my back. I looked over his shoulder at the city beyond. The sacrifice to be made, the god taking his due. I had made my choice long before.
A cloud obscured the moon. The city faded. A light flickered, rose, died. One note sounded, and another, before the music ceased.
If you didn’t click on the link in the introduction, please take a few minutes to listen to Sharon Robinson sing Alexandra Leaving.
Like what you read? Donations for my local foodbank are gratefully received.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_God_Abandons_Antony
Find all my books here: https://scarletferret.com/authors/marian-l-thorpe
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Firstly, anything that takes us offline and out into the world can only be a good thing, if it means we will see a little less of you on here, so be it. Secondly, Alexandra Leaving is one of my favourite Leonard Cohen songs but I had not heard Sharon Robinson’s version before, it’s beautiful. She was such an important part of his life for so long, you would think she would be better known and appreciated. Thank you for sharing.
Very moving ending.