The Serpent and the Crown Page 3
Before he could go into the city and find the crown, he needed to get up and walk. He was hungry and thirsty so he crawled over to a fruit tree nearby and picked up a piece of fruit that had fallen to the ground. The taste was sweet so he sat there for the rest of the day, eating the fruit, resting, and soaking up the rays of the sun.
The next day he woke again to the songs of birds that were becoming more familiar to him. A puddle of slime lay beneath him and he felt lighter because more of it had fallen away from his body. He held his legs up and flexed them back and forth. He extended and flexed his arms, leaned forward and back, and twisted side to side. He tried to move every part of his body and free himself from stagnation. He clutched the trunk of the fruit tree and pulled himself up into a standing position. He held onto the tree with one arm and with the other he was able to pick a juicy piece of fruit from a branch. He put it to his mouth and it tasted even sweeter than the day before. As its juices trickled down his throat, he felt more droplets of his life returning.
The next day he awoke to falling rain and opened his mouth to drink the beads of water as they fell. They soothed his throat and brought him life. He lay down on his back while the rain showered him and drank in as much as he could. After the rain stopped he drank droplets of water from the wet leaves of the fruit tree. In the evening he was able to stand and take a few steps. His body was still very weak from being dead, so he could only take a few steps before he had to rest.
The following day, after eating all he could, he placed a piece of fruit in each pocket and carried a piece in each hand. He walked down the hill towards the city, taking frequent breaks to rest. By nightfall, he made it to the edge of the fields. He looked for food but the plants near him were not ready for harvest. He fell asleep to curious thoughts about the foreigners and how they would receive him.
In the morning he roused from a heavy sleep to the sound of rustling in the plants around him. He sat up and saw a hunchbacked old man tilling the soil. His hands were tough and dry, his skin scorched by the sun. His face was leathery and cast down upon his work. Jankaro saw others nearby and wondered when they would notice him. He watched them work for a while but no one noticed him, even if he was right in front of them. He tried to speak but he could not make a sound. The serpent’s slime still clung to his body and lodged in his throat.
So he stood up, this time much more easily than the day before. His body still ached, however, and he continued to cough up slime. But he felt a little stronger with each passing hour. He walked toward the city walls, through the fields full of toiling workers, until he reached a large wooden gate. He sat and waited for the next time the gate opened, and walked inside. He walked by four large men who carried swords by their sides and wore metal plates over their chests. They paid no attention to him as he passed and emerged into a giant marketplace, bustling with activity. He wanted to explore, but was very tired and had to lie down and sleep behind a large pile of root vegetables that looked like yucca but were much smaller and round in shape.
For the next few days he wandered around the city, coughing and covered in slime. He wondered why no one noticed him. He anticipated that at any moment someone would shout to him “Hey you, outsider, what are you doing here?!” He imagined being seized by the guards and dragged outside the walls and thrown into a river. Was it all a dream? Or was he dead? Was he merely wandering in the afterlife as a lost soul? He thought the slime that covered his body had rendered him invisible and tried to wipe it away, but could not be free of it.
He first explored the market area just inside the city’s long outer wall that reached the salty water on both sides. The merchants hollered at the passersby, hawking their goods. There were many areas devoted entirely to fruits and vegetables, other areas to grains and nuts. There were fat birds in cages waiting to be slaughtered and processed by the young women who cut off their heads, plucked their feathers, chopped them up into pieces and sold them. A big man in a hurry bumped directly into Jankaro, knocking him on his back into a muddy puddle of water in the street that was mixed with the birds’ blood. Flies swarmed as he tried to stand as quickly as possible so as not to breathe any more of the rotting stench. “What was that?!” The man stopped and looked back, but no one could answer his query, as all they could see was the disrupted water in the puddle. The man hastened away, shaking his head. Some of the women who heard the man looked right through Jankaro into the puddle, shrugged their shoulders and carried on with their work.
All types of goods were on display at this marketplace: clothes, medicines, building materials, tools for cooking, grooming, cleaning and fishing. Every type of novelty was here and being sold in variations by many different vendors. Many of the items he did not recognize and wondered what they could be. He contemplated where the crown might be kept. He thought he heard the word a few times, but his ears were clogged with slime and he was not able to figure out who had spoken. The people were very intent upon their tasks and everyone seemed to be in a hurry all the time.
Deeper into the city, past the marketplace, there were many streets packed with buildings, most of them had stairways and two levels. Many of the buildings appeared to be individual homes; others were shops for tradesmen or stores for selling even more goods of various specialties. Jankaro had some appreciation for the stonework but couldn’t understand why these people would choose to live in this suffocating world of stone when they could be enjoying the beauty of the jungle.
He wandered through the streets for days looking for the crown and wondering if anyone would ever notice him. At night he would look for a fading fire and lay down next to it. He noticed that the heat seemed to melt away the slime a little faster.
His explorations of the city were limited by an interior wall that sealed off the upper part of the city and, like the outer wall, stretched from one side of the sea to the other. It did not seem as long because the land appeared to narrow as he went further back into the city. He rarely saw anyone come through the iron gate of the inner wall, and was curious about what lay on the other side. Behind it he saw a castle with one single tower that rose far into the sky, high above any other structure. There was also an enormous rounded building just to the right and in front of the castle. It was decorated with fine stonework on the outside with images of warriors battling each other and various beasts with spears and swords. In one of the frames he saw an Ashtari posed with its front legs up in the air with claws extended and its face in a fearsome growl.
To the front left of the castle stood a large rectangular building. Large, colorful woven cloths hung above its entrance and danced in the breeze. From there he would often hear the clashing of metal on metal. Sometimes he waited by the gates for a long time, wondering if he could get through, but they did not open.
So he continued to roam throughout the marketplace and the streets, making notes in his head about the people and analyzing the culture, though this was difficult, since he still could not hear as well as he would have liked. As he began to observe the city people carefully, he noticed that underneath all of the hurrying, there was a strain that shone in their faces. Underneath that, in most of their eyes he could see fear. It appeared there was a great weight upon their shoulders, and it was wearing them down.
One day he noticed a great heat emerging from a shop and he was attracted to it, as he had already noticed that the heat from the sun and the occasional firepit seemed to accelerate the clearing of the slime. He longed to be free from it and hoped to be seen and heard by the people. Through the entrance he observed a big, bearded, burly man smashing a hammer into a steel rod glowing with heat. The heat from the fire was intense and gleamed white hot. Jankaro remembered the knife his father had given him, wrought by the hands of a foreigner from a distant land. He put his hand to his hip but felt nothing but his tattered shorts. He entered the shop and sat down next to the neatly stacked, rectangular stones that held the fire. The heat was almost unbearab
le but he knew he needed it. He watched as the slime dripped away from his body, dropped to the stone surface below and faded away. He sat there the whole day and watched it dissipate while his strength returned at a faster rate. That night he fell asleep by the fading warmth of the stones.
2
The Blacksmith
Jankaro slept, and upon him descended a vivid dream. He was with his father back home, and together they walked through the forest, far away from the village, all the way to the wide river he had so recently come to know. Both of them waded into the water up to their knees. Jorobai’s voice trembled as he repeated the phrase, “We are going to die, we are going to die.” Jankaro looked down into the brown water but could not see below the surface.
Suddenly a large black snake appeared, coiled itself around Jankaro’s ankle and spiraled up his leg and around his torso. It leaned its head up and out in front of his face, gazed into his eyes and breathed its toxic breath into his face. The rush of nausea reminded him of how he felt inside the belly of the great serpent. “The crown,” it hissed to him. He felt weak and tried to reach for his father or cry out, but could not. He lost control of his body and he dropped to his knees as the black snake slithered away. His vision went blurry and his hands dropped to the river bottom. He sunk onto his side and drew one last breath as his head began to sink below the surface.
Jankaro awakened next to the stacked stones. He felt strong and didn’t need to cough. There was no puddle beneath him. He sat and watched the bearded man work as the last of the slime vanished from his skin.
The man pulled the glowing sword from the fire and dipped it into a vat of water. Steam filled the room, obscuring his view. When it cleared, he pulled the sword from the water and examined his work. He turned his face down and locked eyes with Jankaro as an expression of surprise flashed across his face.
“Where did you come from?!” He was taken aback and seemed displeased that someone had snuck into his workshop unnoticed.
Jankaro scrambled to his feet. “You can see me!” His voice was hoarse but he was relieved to be able to speak again. “I come from far away, I am lost. I was ill, my body was cold and I have suffered for many days and nights. This fire has brought me life!” He held up his hands to the fire to soak in the heat.
“You make no sense. Who are you? Where do you come from?”
“My name is Jankaro. My father is Jorobai. I come from Olaya.”
“Olaya? I have never heard of such a place.”
“It is in the middle of a jungle so wide I have never seen the end of it. I was stolen from my home. I was unconscious and held in darkness for a long time. I was brought here but I don´t know where I am.”
“You are a strange boy. I don’t know what to make of this. You are in the city of Calixo, the capital of Galdea. Run along now and find someone else to help you; I have work to do.”
“Can you help me with something to eat?”
The man was ready to turn him away until he looked into Jankaro’s eyes and saw a flash of familiarity. He couldn’t explain it, but a feeling of spontaneous kinship came over him. He felt a little honored that this strange traveler would choose his forge, of all places, to seek help. He figured he could do one act of kindness for the youth who would likely be sent off to war to die on the front lines. “No one gets a free meal around here, but you can do something for me and we can make a trade. Take this sword. Take it to the barracks, up there near the castle. Find a soldier named Orion. You can’t miss him, he’s the biggest of them all. Give him this with regards from Altamont, the blacksmith. Return here and I will give you bread.”
Jankaro took the sword and gazed upon it. It was long, broad, heavy, and finely wrought with intricate geometric etchings on the hilt. He felt the power of a warrior pulsing through his veins and his spirit soared. “Get on with it, Jankaro.” Altamont pushed him towards the door. “That sword is not yours to play with.”
As he walked through the city streets, people gave him strange looks. He took pleasure in knowing that he had not forever become a ghost. He was alive again. The snake had granted his wish, and now all he had to do was get the crown and he would be free to go home. In their eyes he saw indifference, mistrust, and occasional curiosity. He looked different. His skin, eyes and hair were darker than most of the people there, and he was much shorter than the surrounding men. His clothes were brown, dirty and torn. But he carried the sword with pride and admired its gleaming power as he made his way along the stone streets.
He arrived at the gate to the inner wall and was questioned by two soldiers standing guard. “I am looking for Orion.” He held up the sword. “This is from Altamont.”
“He sends a dirty peasant to deliver a sword to a soldier,” said one soldier with a mocking tone. “Orion will love this.”
“He’s inside training. Head into the barracks over there. See the flags?” said the other soldier, pointing to the large rectangular building. “Go down to the end of the hall and out into the courtyard.”
Jankaro entered the exclusive section of the city and noted the darkened stones carved in an arch around the entrance to the castle before stepping into the barracks. Inside he gazed at the paintings that depicted men wearing metal armor and brandishing their swords. He marveled at the strange and intricate tools and weapons hung on display on the walls as he slowly walked down the hall. At the end of the hall he emerged into the courtyard. Several soldiers, clad in heavy armor like the guards at the gate, sparred with each other, training with heavy wooden sticks. Jankaro was impressed by the speed and vigor of their movements.
A young red-haired soldier in shiny armor stopped sparring and approached Jankaro. “Listen here, boy! If you ever come into this space dressed like that again I will tie you up and feed you to the Ashtari.” Jankaro’s eyes gleamed with curiosity but there was no time to inquire about it. “What is a jungle worm like you doing with a sword like that?”
Jankaro squinted at the insult and felt heat rise in his chest but spoke with an even tone. “Altamont sent me to deliver this to Orion.”
“Tell Altamont not to send any more dirtbags to do his work. Orion! Come get your sword!” A pair of dueling soldiers stopped their match and one of them trotted over. He was the biggest man Jankaro had ever seen. The base of his thick black beard was a several inches above the top of Jankaro’s head.
“Ahhh” he breathed, admiring the sword as he received it. He closed his eyes as he raised it gently to his forehead. He lifted it high and brought it down swiftly, stopping his stroke just above Jankaro’s skull. Jankaro opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Had Orion continued with his mighty stroke he could have split Jankaro entirely in half, straight down the middle. “Good balance. With this blade I will defend the crown!” He placed a wooden chair in the middle of the courtyard and hacked it into tiny pieces to test his new weapon.
The word sunk into Jankaro’s brain as he watched with great curiosity. He suspected that the crown was somewhere inside the upper region of Calixo. He was impressed with the soldiers and wanted to learn to fight like them. A feeling in his gut suggested it might help him get the crown.
“What are you looking at boy?” said the officer in the shiny armor. “Get out of here now!” He grabbed him by the shoulders, pushed him back inside and a little way down the hall.
After the completion of several errands, Altamont took a liking to Jankaro’s curiosity and youthful naivete, and decided to take him on as an apprentice. He gave him a new set of clothes, a place to sleep in his house behind the shop, and all the food he could eat. He gave him menial tasks to complete throughout the day: sweeping up, fetching water, gathering supplies, cooking, and Jankaro’s favorite: delivering weapons to the soldiers. They treated him better at the barracks once he cleaned up and got some new clothes. Every time he made a delivery there, he got to catch a glimpse of the training.
Sometim
es Jankaro got so wrapped up in his work for Altamont that he almost forgot about his agreement with the snake. Whenever this happened he would dream of some sort of snake wrapping him up and dragging him down, reminding him that he was still in debt to the great serpent. The slime had long since been burned away by the heat of Altamont’s forge, but the essence of the serpent still dwelled within Jankaro.
Months passed in servitude to the blacksmith, during which Jankaro had seen the faces of all the soldiers and offered them their newly forged weapons. One day Altamont sent him to the castle to deliver a finely crafted broadsword to the king’s son Rafael, the commander of the army.
“This is a special sword, take great care in its delivery,” Altamont had told him.
Jankaro gazed upon it and saw that the hilt was coated with gold and embedded with jewels.
The pair of oak doors at the castle entrance were twice Jankaro’s height and as thick as his growing shoulder muscles. Flattened gold trim lined the edges of the doors and swirls of plated gold hung down from the top like snakes. He repressed his impulse to shudder as the guards admitted him to a vaulted entryway that displayed the wealth of empire in the form of finely crafted statues, tapestries, rugs, and spiraling gold candlesticks. A tall, handsome man with slick brown hair strode towards him. His royal blue shirt and pants were lined with gold stripes on the seams.
“I am Prince Rafael,” he said.
His face was shaved smooth and his triangular jaw was crossed by a freshly healed scar.
“Let’s have a look at this weapon,” he said as he received it from Jankaro. He swung it through the air, making acrobatic maneuvers as he battled an imaginary foe. He removed another sword from a barrel behind the doors.