Prophecy of Noto Ch. 04

"Thus it is for traitors, a traitor to his own cousin, King Cresum," Cleus murmured lovingly in Kleemus's ear as Kleemus grunted his last breaths. "And this is for my father, King Cletar," Cleus continued, his voice raised in triumph, as he pulled the knife out and plunged it in yet again.

He was standing, in robes of gold, beside the bed of the dead king, taking on a kingly stance as the forces of the Aram and Akamantis—his forces—rushed in the room to celebrate Prince Cleus's victory over the Tharsisians, undeniably won by wit and cleverness where brute force could not prevail.

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Prophecy Fulfilled

"You are pensive and sad of countenance, Cleus, when I would think you would be leaping with joy—on top of the world."

"Perhaps it is just the shock of your dispatching King Severmist at nearly the same instant that I was the undoing of King Kleemus. You surprise me, Watchman. I have observed you often working through other men, but hardly ever by your own hand."

"Oh, the Lords of Sorso and Jerzu were ever so helpful," the Watchman responded. "They have ever borne a grudge against Severmist for using—and then losing—Toma. I do believe each one of them was deeply in love with his talented channel. And then, when Severmist moved against his own cousin, the two lords believed one or both of them would be next. So, they struck first—and the death that came to Severmist was an ignominious one, one that gave him no majesty in the eyes of the people whatsoever."

"And the lords? Where are they now?"

"Dispatched as well. It was rather messy, I'm afraid. They did not die well."

None of this helped with the pensiveness in the dusky young prince that the Watchman had discerned.

He had waited to approach Cleus in the king's chamber of the Enna palace until Raum had finished with him and had left the chamber.

The lovemaking between the two had moved the Watchman and made him mourn what he knew and accepted was the ending of any relationship he himself might have with Toma. Cleus was stretched, half on his side, half on his belly on the king's bier in the center of the chamber and Raum was kneeling over him, hands kneading the dusky beauty's shoulders, and cock buried deep in Cleus's channel. Cleus was moaning his pleasure and acceptance and moving his hips in rhythm with the pumping of Raum's well-trained staff. The taking was languid, as if they had forever. As if that was a choice Cleus could make. As the taking continued, they both become more vocal in their moans, and Raum lowered his body on Cleus's, stretching out along the line of his body and moving him onto his belly. Raum was encasing him from above, touching him at every point he possibly could with his own body. His arms were stretched along Cleus's, and the Watchman would have thought they had drifted off into sleep, were motionless, except for the entwining movement of their fingers merged together, the wave-like motion of Raum's hips and Cleus's pelvis, and the curling and uncurling of Cleus's long, sensuous toes to the rhythm of the fuck.

At length both gave a low cry and the intensity of the movement at their loins quickened—but only momentarily, as they both gave out a long, low sigh and relaxed their bodies in one entwined whole. They slept then, but only briefly. Raum knew his position. His life, his function at court, had not changed. To Cleus's low, huskily voiced objections, Raum raised himself from the platform and padded out of the chamber. Now was not the time for the court to have to officially acknowledge Raum's function in Cleus's life.

"I saw you with Raum, just now," the Watchman said when Cleus had dozed briefly and returned groggily to life. "Is that what has made you sad?"

"You see everything," Cleus said. And then he gave a quiet laugh, but it was not a happy laugh.

"I have seen you raised from the womb to manhood," the Watchman said. "Our family was small, there all those years on the beach at Gela. It would have been hard to miss what developed between you and Raum. Is that what is troubling you?"

"Yes," Cleus answered in almost inaudible tones and after a long pause.

"You are thinking on Cletar, your royal family, and how all of this complexity and treachery began, are you not? How he was. That he would not lay with a woman, would not take up his responsibility to the succession of the High Kingship."

"Yes."

"And you do not want to do to the nation what your father did."

"No."

"Raum means so much to you that you give this relationship such high regard?"

"Yes. But I am prepared. As is Raum. If I am to be High King, I will take the responsibility fully. I will be a Cresum, not a Cletar."

"But you would rather just be the commander of the kingdom's forces, would you not, and partner solely with Raum?"

"You know everything. Yes, yes, of course I would."

"The oracle knew it would be so. The oracle knew and had knowledge of and faith in the future that I did not. And I believe it is the oracle, the Oracle at Noto, working for the gods, that has given you that trait of Cletar. It is nothing to be ashamed of, my son. You have done all that could be asked of you. What you have with Raum is something beautiful, not something you need—or should have to—deny."

Cleus stood there, naked, both in body and soul, before his mentor and protector, the Watchman. There was nothing he could say. In days of joy, he was consumed by sadness and the heavy burden that he saw as his.

"Look up, Cleus," the Watchman said in a commanding, yet gentle tone. "What do you see?"

Cleus looked up. What he saw surprised and perplexed him. But he could not discern what the Watchman was trying to tell him, what was happening here.

"Hello, brother," a voice emerged from the shadows. The sound was followed by the appearance of a small, but well-formed Nubian.

"Toma. Is it you? Have you abandoned your life and family in Favara to return to us at court to take up duties here? If so, you are happily welcome. I seem to be bereft of advisers, the principle ones having recently been dispatched for treachery."

"No, I've brought my wife and son with me," Toma answered simply. "The Watchman called and I answered."

"The Watchman called you to court?" Cleus asked, still confused.

"The misunderstanding is mine," the Watchman interjected. "The oracle and the gods knew what they were doing. But it was a mistake I'm glad I made—and I believe the gods would not have permitted it if it were not a good thing for the kingdoms."

"A mistake?" Cleus was still very much in the dark.

"You are not to be High King, Cleus," the Watchman said. "The Oracle never meant that you were to be. Your making was by my making—because I misunderstood; I did not have enough faith in the oracle. But you can be the key support to the High King—and you can still have what you desire. You can still command the forces of the kingdoms and partner exclusively with Raum."

"Not the High King?"

"No. The High King for a unified world is to be a king of peace and wisdom in ruling, not a mighty military commander. Does that trouble you much? I would be very wrong if I thought that it did."

"No, no, it doesn't trouble me, Watchman. It would lift a heavy burden from me. I would be overjoyed. But how . . . who . . .?"

"I'm surprised I didn't see it. If he had been like other men of Aram in appearance, I'm sure I would have. The oracle's prophecy was that the direct line of King Cresum would lead to the High King who would unify the kingdoms of the region. My mistake was in not realizing that this man already existed before I schemed to coax a male heir from the loins of King Cletar. When I knew the truth, it was too late. You were already among us and loved by us all. My further mistake was not seeing that unity is in the ruling, the governing, not the military conquest. You can be a great soldier, a commander, but Toma has it in him to be a wise and fair ruler.

"The direct line from Cresum led through his oldest surviving son. The Nubian princess Nailah need not have lain with Cletar. She had already borne a son directly from Cresum. The moment Cletar was slain, Toma became that eldest surviving son. Toma is the gods-anointed High King of the lands of Aram, Akamantis, Tharsis, and the Kerastis. And he can and has begotten sons."

Toma flinched and turned to the Watchman.

"Yes, Toma. Your Maia is bearing another son. What I can and do declare here and now is that the Prophecy of Noto has been fulfilled. King Toma is the High King. Long may his lineage reign in peace and strength—protected by the military prowess and fealty of his brother, Cleus.

-Fini-