Crystals of Air and Water

Chapter 1: The Royal Nuptials-3

Prince Haroun wasn’t nearly as spectacular as his bride -to -be, and rode his horse through King’s Bazaar accompanied by an elite honor guard of soldiers all dressed in their finest armor with their horses groomed to perfection. Haroun’s outfit was mostly white and gold, with touches of sapphire blue embroidery. His cloth-of-gold hizam held a saif in a gem-encrusted scabbard. The sunlight threw prismatic reflections from these jewels onto his clothes and face. He squinted to avoid the reflections, and this only made him seem more loutish.

Even though Haroun was less well loved by the populace than his half-brother Ahmad, a royal wedding was a time when such minor matters were put aside, and the people cheered him as though he were the most popular man in Ravan. The roar along the length of the bazaar was deafening, making it impossible to carry on normal conversations several streets away.

The two processions met at the main entrance to the Temple of the Faith, where they were admitted among a crowd of well-wishing nobility, all of whom had arrived early to assure themselves of a good place in the sahn. Prince Haroun dismounted his horse and Princess Oma stepped down from her litter. Bride and bridegroom walked down opposite sides of the riwaq to the front of the temple. They stopped and knelt before the minbar, and Princess Oma was unveiled before her husband for the first time. Prince Haroun was pleased by what he saw, while the princess was dreading her ordeal to come. Nevertheless, heeding Shammara’s warning, she was prepared to be brave and make her painful sacrifice—at least for this one night.

As newly appointed high priest, Yusef bin Nard officiated at the ceremony. He was resplendent in his priestly robes of gleaming white delicately accented with silver threads, shining with dazzling brightness in the midday sun. Behind him, in a temporary altar, burned the Dadgah fire to symbolize the purity of Oromasd, which it was hoped would sanctify this royal marriage. Yusef bin Nard read the ancient wedding ceremony in his deepest tones, and Princess Oma responded appropriately—but through clenched teeth.

In little more than an hour it was over and Princess Oma was now the official wife of Prince Haroun. A cheer went up in the sahn and was echoed through the streets of the Holy City. Wine began flowing freely in all the taverns while the singing and dancing intensified. By sundown there was hardly a soul in the city who was not either drunk, dizzy from dancing, or at least hoarse from all the cheering throughout the day.

The bride and groom were escorted from the Temple of the Faith into the palace, where a banquet had been spread in their honor. Musicians played their finest compositions and poets recited their rhymes of love, both tender and erotic. Gifts were presented to the honored couple, so many they couldn’t all be seen or counted in an afternoon, as the heads of neighboring states made contributions to the new couple’s welfare. The horses, falcons, hunting cats, and other exotic animals raised a din, and there were problems getting them through the crowds safely. The jewels, coins, clothes, and luxuries were heaped in the hall; it would take several scribes weeks to inventory it all. Goblets were refilled liberally, until there was scarcely a person in the wedding party capable of standing without assistance. Finally, when the sun was well down and the stars were glittering like wedding jewels in the black night sky, the prince and princess were led with great ceremony to their official bedchamber.

The next morning Prince Haroun emerged from the room in a foul mood. His face, shoulders, and back were covered with scratches and bite marks, and he walked with a noticeable limp. While both prince and princess agreed that the marriage had been consummated, Prince Haroun declared loudly to all who’d listen that he’d have no more to do with the woman he’d married, and would sire his children by lesser wives and concubines instead. Shammara bought him a few new slave girls as consolation and his spirits were eased.

When Shammara next passed Princess Oma in the palace corridor, she gave a curt nod to acknowledge that their uneasy bargain had been made and kept. As long as the princess stayed out of Shammara’s hair, she’d be free to do as she wished within the palace. Shammara even assigned a pair of twin, young, lovely, and specially trained handmaidens to her as earnest of their agreement.

Three weeks later, news came to Ravan that King Basir was dead. He had been sleeping that night with his favorite concubine, Rabah, who woke up in the morning screaming that the king had died in his sleep. There were no signs of violence or traces of poison, so the doctors certified the death as being natural. There was certainly no reason to suspect foul play from Rabah. She was only a concubine, she had slept with the king many times before, and she had nothing to gain from his death. The pillow she’d used to smother King Basir left no marks.

The king’s death left the succession to the throne of Marakh very much in doubt. There were no sons. Princess Oma was his oldest child, and there were three more daughters entirely too young for either marriage or rule. The wazirs of the realm argued and debated, each trying to grab the crown for himself, but the solution came imposed upon them from Ravan.

Since Prince Haroun was married to King Basir’s eldest daughter and would soon become a king in his own right, Ravan’s ruler seized the opportunity to claim the kingdom of Marakh as well. An army was sent from Ravan to quell any signs of nervousness on the part of the Marakhi. The wazirs couldn’t unite effectively enough to dispute Haroun’s claim, and the most powerful of them were quickly dispatched by agents in Shammara’s employ.

In due course, young Prince Haroun was declared king of Marakh even before he attained his majority and the kingship of Ravan—and Shammara was well on her path of dominion and conquest in the name of her son.