Chapter 5: Under the Sun

         The royal coach gently rocked on its way to Hareen, and Prince Sargon could only feel disdain and scorn toward his father. The Emperor didn’t seem to mind though. As if oblivious to his son’s furious glares, he admired orchards and fields.

         “Why did you do this to me?” the Prince hissed to his father.

         “Do you refer to your upcoming nuptials?” the Emperor asked innocently.

         “Yes, I refer to that mockery betrothal to the peasant girl. You did that to spite me, didn’t you?” Sargon crossed his arms on his chest.

         The Emperor didn’t respond. The Prince let out a humorless chuckle, before he hid his face in his hands.

         “Jahan gets a Valadorian princess for his wife, while I’ll be stuck with a dirty peasant. Actually, I should have seen that coming.” Great bitterness sounded in Sargon’s voice.

         The Emperor finally looked at him.

         “How egoistical you are,” he said quietly. “Not everything revolves around you. Both your brother’s and yours marriages are of political significance. I betrothed you to that girl not to take my revenge for your disrespect, but for the well-being of the Empire.”

         Sargon rolled his eyes at this utter nonsense.

         “How possibly marrying a commoner could benefit our country? Shouldn’t you rather save me for some Tayannese princess, to ensure their loyalty?” he asked.

         “According to my generals, it will take me at least three years to capture Tayann. In the meantime, I have to feed an army of three hundred thousand. To do that we need Gawanee’s full cooperation. Right now, this island is the only thing that stands between us and starvation.” As he lectured Sargon, the Emperor’s hand shot out like an attacking viper and clutched the front of the Prince’s shirt. “The whole nation is at the edge of unrest, the riots have already started. If I can’t appease people at a small cost, I’ll lose the war.”

         With these words, the Emperor released his son and the Prince’s back hit the soft backrest of the plush seating.

         “Your wedding to a commoner will get the peasants pleased and appreciated. I, on the other hand, will be able to continue taxing them as I used to. The war will be won, new colony obtained. Little input, huge gain.” The Emperor smiled widely, clearly joyful with his clever plot.

          Sargon frowned. Little input, that was how father calls ruining my existence. It was his life and his reputation, which had to be sacrificed so that the peasants wouldn’t rebel. He dug his fingernails in the posh seat of the royal carriage, thinking how humiliated he would be. During public events to come, Princess Avani will bring my brother honor, while I’ll be laughed at because of that unsightly, ill-mannered peasant. If Sargon’s position on the court got demeaned further, the chasm between him and the perfect Crown Prince would only deepen.

         “Appeasing Gawanee wasn’t your only motive, was it?” Sargon suddenly asked, as everything became clear to him. “By denying me a proper, highborn wife you want to make sure that I won’t be able to usurp Jahan’s throne in the future.”

         The Emperor’s face was unreadable, but by the slightest twitch of his left eyebrow, the Prince knew that he wasn’t going to deny the accusation.

         “Jahan is the Crown Prince.” Father stated the fact.

         “I know that!” Sargon exclaimed. “I’ve never desired to take Jahan’s position for myself. All I want is to prove myself capable of serving the Empire.”

         When Sargon looked at his father expectantly, awaiting his acknowledgement, he felt as venerable as a small child. All his life he was under impression that his father treated him like a vulture, preying on his firstborn’s birthright.

         “Well, then, now’s your chance. Be a capable prince and do what’s good for your country, for once without complaints.” The Emperor tossed Sargon a traditional wedding garment.

         The other one of Emperor’s his still intact coaches traveled right after the father of the Empire and Prince Sarcon. Inside, a very nervous royal fiancée, her excited parents and a rather indifferent brother rode toward Tala’s doom. Before the abrupt departure, Hester had snatched the family’s best garments and they all changed in the rocking coach. The outcome was not particularly impressive though. Even the coachman looked more noble.

         “Do you think that there will be cake on the wedding party?” Cas looked at his father, who was busy contemplating how worn off his pants were. The new ones had been maliciously snatched by the man, who was about to steal his little daughter and haul her to the capital Sun Island. He grunted, answering Cas’ question affirmatively.

         “I should have let him drown!” Suddenly, Tala exclaimed.

         Hester shook her head, while brushing her daughter’s short hair.

         “Why are you so upset? Your future husband is handsome, you will live in great wealth. You’ll be a princess.” It was clear that Tala’s mother was trying to be a good, understanding parent, but somehow her and her daughter’s way of thinking were just too far apart.

         “I don’t want to be a princess and I don’t care if my husband is rich,” Tala replied. “I can’t imagine myself rotting in a loveless marriage!”

         “You won’t feed your children with love. Tala, you need to stop dreaming.” Hester  berated her. She whispered to herself loud enough for her daughter to pick up his words: “Why can’t she be a good, obedient child?”

         Tala’s arms fell to hang limply alongside her body. She felt salty tears gather in the corners of her eyes, only to stream down her cheeks.

         “Don’t cry, dear, your eyes will smear the face paint!” her mother reprimanded her. She carefully dried Tala’s tears using the edge of the sleeve, wary not to damage the intricate lines drawn on Tala’s eyelids. Then, she readjusted the dress, she had made especially for this year’s Bridal Dance, and smiled with motherly pride.

         “Oh, Tala, you’ve never looked so beautiful!” she exclaimed, making a move, as though she wanted to trap her daughter in a tight embrace, but stopped the last moment. Otherwise, she would crease Tala’s best dress. “I’m sure that once the Prince sees you looking so wonderful, he’ll fall in love with you instantly and will want to marry you with all his heart.”

         Tala averted her gaze. That was what she wanted to avoid. As she had experienced before, the Emperor wouldn’t even listen to her refusal. If only the Prince or Emperor himself would consider her a bad match, not good enough to marry… Tala gasped, as an ingenious idea popped into her mind. Her lipstick-covered lips twisted in a sly smile. She would make the royal jerks change their mind. Once the Prince sees me, he’ll flee in panic back to the Sun Island!

         “Sis, why are you cackling?” Cas asked.

         “Oh.” Tala smiled apologetically. “I guess I’m just excited.”

         Like on a cue, the coach stopped. It swayed gently, when the coachman was climbing down. The door opened, and he bowed.

         Tala’s mother gasped loudly at the sight of all people gathered on the market in Hereen, now richly decorated for the First Blooming festival. The roar of the cheering crowd was deafening. Two rows of servants were stationed on the path toward the main platform, all bowing with utmost respect, and what Tala spotted right away, dressed much decently than her family.

         “Mother, father, Cas.” Tala took a deep breath. “Please go first. I need a few moments to clear my head and I’ll be right after you.”

         Cas and her father took her plea without deliberation and got out of the coach, curiously looking around and commenting the grandeur of the setting in hushed voices. Hester clasped her daughter’s hand and squeezed it encouragingly.

         “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, suddenly making Tala feel like the most insidious human being in the known world.

         When the doors of the carriage closed, Tala began realizing her master plan. Not wasting time, she plunged her hands into the auburn locks and tangled them as horridly as she could, until they looked worse than a broom. Afterward, it was time to ruin her intricate face paint. Tala’s fists quickly did the work. She glanced into the hand mirror and smirked, seeing the satisfying results. Two dark circles around her eyes and the red smile from ear to ear looked definitely unattractive, especially accompanied by numerous, colorful smears across her cheeks. As a finishing blow, she started rolling on the plush seats until her plain yet pretty dress looked creased like a beggar’s rag.

         “Ah,” she sighed contently, opening the door and stepping out of the coach. As she walked toward the platform, she heard people giggle at her sight. However, that didn’t upset her – quite the contrary. She grinned, and her steps gained confidence. Tala rested her hand on her hip and held her chin up.

         “Tell the Emperor,” she told one of the imperial servants. “that Tala is here.”

         The sun was almost in the highest point on the sky and a crowd of Gawanese peasants were anticipating the wedding ceremony to commence. Prince Sargon, now the focus of all attention, shifted his weight from one foot to another. The weather was exceptionally hot for the early spring, but that was only the reason to rejoice, for it foretold a positive outcome of whatever was being undertaken. He was never superstitious, though, and no amount of good omens could convince him that his matrimony with a peasant girl would be a happy one. The tapping with his foot intensified, now drumming a familiar rhythm of the national anthem “We rise with the Sun”.

         Prince Jahan, dressed in his shiny ceremonial armor stood by Sargon’s side.

         “Nerves, little brother?” he asked with a knowing smile on his lips. “When I was about to meet Avani for the first time, my knees buckled so hard that father had to hold me up by my elbow. I was ten times more scared than before my first battle.”

         Sargon snorted. He couldn’t picture his older brother behave like a jittering fool.

         “What is she like?” Jahan asked, taking his brother’s mind off the people staring at him like at some curious exhibit.

         Sargon mused how should be summarize the long list of his Tala’s faults. He settle for highlighting several, random ones.

         “She has ill-manners, shrieking, dull and, above all, she’s an uneducated peasant.” He waited for Jahan’s reply.

         “Maybe focus on her positive qualities.” Jahan nudged his brother discreetly.

         “There aren’t any,” Sargon muttered.

         “You and your deadbeat attitude,” Jahan commented. “How about her looks? Is she pretty?”

         Pretty? Sargon mused how should he put that he didn’t found neither her plain face nor her boyish body attractive, but the arrival of his future in-laws diverted his attention. Hester, Babak and their son Cas waved enthusiastically to their acquaintances, beaming with pride.        

         Javed, Jahan’s son, reached out to pat Sargon on his back. He climbed on his toes to do that. “But your fiancée is funny, uncle. Maybe she’ll make you smile.”

         Jahan snorted, watching Sargon’s face distort in a grimace of outrage. The younger Prince balled his fists, and his eyes glared at Javed with such scorn, that it appeared that he could shoot lightning bolts from them.

         “I don’t need a jester for a wife. I need a sensible, well-mannered woman, who wouldn’t bring me shame,” Sargon growled.

         “I’m afraid mommy is no longer on bride market, uncle.” Javed shrugged.

         Sargon looked like yelling from rage, making both Jahan and his son snicker at him even more. He looked at his nephew.

         “Wait, how did you know Tala’s funny?” he demanded.

         The boy grinned, pointing his finger behind Sargon’s back.

         “Turn around,” Javed said.

         It was a promise of a hilarious surprise, at least in a child’s eyes. As soon as Tala set her foot onto the platform, excited whispers of the peasants died down. Only the sound of hundreds of wedding guests breathing was audible. With the corner of his eye, the Prince Sargon noticed Tala’s mother faint.

         “Is that Hester’s girl?” someone asked.

         In Sargon’s opinion, his future bride appeared like a wraith. Especially the painted red smile was terrifying – it looked, as if someone slashed her face with a blade. In addition, she grinned, and in her eyes, the Prince discerned a desperate, mad gleam. Sargon was almost certain that any moment now, she would burst into diabolical cackle.

         “Father,” he whispered to the Emperor. “I’ll marry any peasant girl of your choice, but not her. I beg you, send her away.”

         The Emperor didn’t answer. He gawked at his future daughter-in-law with the same amount of consternation as everyone else. He cringed when she did the most dreadful curtsy, he had ever seen. If it was even possible, her behavior was far more crude compared to earlier this day.

         “Maybe it’s the local fashion?” Jahan tried to discern a bright side of the horror, like he always did.

         “Your Majesties, I’m honored to be here tonight,” she said in a suspiciously cheerful voice.

         The Emperor finally came to his senses. As Sargon glanced sideways, he saw one of father’s eyebrows twitch uncontrollably – there was no doubt, he was furious. Somehow, that tiny fact made the Prince feel slightly better. It was a small consolation, but still better than none at all.

         “Welcome, Lady Tala!” The Emperor smiled so well, that it looked natural to an unskilled eye. “I am delighted that you graced us with your charming persona today, and even more so to welcome you in my family soon.”

         Sargon admired how warm and kind his father sounded. He was a great actor. Despite all the scorn and bitterness, the Prince revered the Emperor for his unquestionable diplomatic skill.

         The Emperor spread his arms in a saintly gesture and dotingly put his hand on Tala’s shoulder before he made his speech.

          “Today, this young woman saved my son, Prince Sargon from a certain death. She proved that the people of Gawanee are courageous, honorable and faithful to the Sun Empire. You have my respect and my gratefulness.” The Emperor paused, looking around the crowded hall. “Surely, many of you wonder why have I betrothed my son, the blood of Sun, to a mere commoner of the farming island. I will tell you why. Because loyalty to the Empire needs to be rewarded, and it shall, just like Tala’s admirable deed. Warriors or farmers, noblemen or peasants, as long as you lead your lives true to the Sun Empire, prosperity awaits you, just as it descended upon your compatriot.”

         When the Emperor finished his speech, the Gawanese people were staring at him with a mix of hope and awe in their eyes. Although he viewed his father’s clever manipulation as a good thing, Sargon also knew that the Emperor had just sealed his fate. After such a declaration, he wouldn’t go back on his word and call the betrothal off.

         Suddenly, the hall filled with noise, as the gathered crowd started clapping and cheering. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and soon enough the merry atmosphere even made Sargon smile, albeit only by lifting one corner of his mouth.

         “Unfortunately, a little accident has occurred.” The Emperor discreetly grabbed Tala’s forearm and shoved her out of the crowd’s sight. “Please enjoy the blessings of the High Priest.”

         Having flashed an apologetic smile at the gathered peasants, he dragged Tala off the platform. He nearly ran to the royal carriage waiting nearby. Sargon was about to follow his father and his unruly fiancée.

         “You stay,” The Emperor hissed through the clenched teeth. Then, he turned his gaze toward Tala. His pleasant façade vanished. “It seems we need to have a little chat, girl.”

         Tala didn’t dare to protest, when the Emperor ushered her into the coach. She hid her hands behind her back, because they started to tremble. Her previous boldness abandoned her, reducing her to a scared commoner, she was.

         “You shamed me and the Empire.” The Emperor’s voice was quiet, vibrating with concealed anger. He put his palms on his knees and leaned forward, hovering over Tala menacingly. “I have granted you such an accolade, a person of your social standing could only dream of. In return, you bring me humiliation.”

         Tala jolted on the chair, nervously wriggling her fingers. She hung her head.

         “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

         A fierce scowl distorted the Emperor’s dignified face. If gazes could kill, Tala would be already incinerated by his wrath. The more intensely he glared at her, the more she inched away, sinking in the backseat.

         “Look at me!” All of a sudden, he yelled out. Scared into submission, Tala obeyed. Tears gathered in the corner’s of her eyes; her lips were trembling uncontrollably, but the Emperor didn’t take pity on her. He hissed: “Do you think that I don’t know the goal of your performance?”

         Tala resembled a cornered mouse before a poisonous snake. She leapt at her chance to save herself.

         “Your Highness, I didn’t really mean to offend anyone. I just… I just hoped that you would break the engagement once you see that I’m not the right person for the Prince,” she said pleadingly.

         Tala shifted on the seat, when the Emperor began cackling. He seemed to be so amused by her desperate plea, as if she had just told him an exquisite jest.

         “Of course you’re not the right person,” the Emperor said cruelly, once he ceased laughing. “You’re suited for scrubbing floors and planting cabbages, not for being a princess. Unfortunately for us all, I have already announced your betrothal to my son, and an Emperor never goes back on his word. In a moment, you will wed, and I expect the ceremony to go flawlessly.”

         Tala nodded sadly, breaking the eye contact with father and hiding her face behind the curtain of tangled auburn hair. Defeat was oozing from every pore of her skin. She finally realized her current position and the harsh truth that there was no escape.

         “Servants will fetch you a new dress and some water for you to clean yourself. Hurry up.” The Emperor left the coach.

         Eventually, the bride reappeared, cleaned up and dressed decently this time. Nervously, she looked around, searching for her family in the crowd. Prince Sargon winced, noticing his brother-in-law, wildly waving to Tala. Without an exception, all three members of her family were drowning in tears, wiping their reddened noses in handkerchiefs that were far from clean now.

         Tala hesitated; it seemed that her feet were glued to the wooden planks. She gathered her dress and made her way up the several stairs. Sargon felt like burning from shame, as he saw how high she hiked her skirt. She miraculously made it to the platform without tripping and falling flat on her face, but she displayed her bony knees to everyone, who could be curious what was under her dress.

         As it turned out, it was merely one of the first mishaps on the long road to the unredeemable humiliation. According to the protocol, she should have bowed before the Emperor and, after his consent, approach her groom. Instead, she whirled around, turning her back to Sargon’s father – a major offense to the etiquette. The Emperor let out an annoyed huff, while Tala enthusiastically waved to the crowd. What was unfathomable for the royals, her action was met with much applause from the peasants.

         “What this stupid girl is doing?” The Emperor hissed.

         Finally, Tala faced the right direction. Naturally without the customary bowing, she set off toward Sargon, slowly and dignified, in her mind at least.

         Tala flinched, when the Emperor stood up, sending her a malicious glare. Instantly, her smile faint faltered, although she fought to uphold it on her lips. Prince Sargon felt almost sorry for her. The fleeting emotion vanished, however, when she made a mortifying curtsy before the Emperor.

         “Your Majesty,” she mumbled, but the Emperor ignored her, stalking past her to address the crowd. Confused and without a clue what to do, she looked around helplessly.

         “Get yourself here and stand by my side.” Sargon gave her whispered instructions. He shuddered, as he was hit by her grateful smile.

         In the meantime, the Emperor began his speech.

         “Sons and daughters of the Sun!” he cried in his deep voice. “The rays of our God shine upon us to bless the matrimony of my youngest son, Prince Sargon, and one of your own, Tala, daughter of Hester and Babak. May this union be a symbol of the integrality of our great nation. Hereby…”

         Prince Sargon fought the persistent urge to yawn. He knew that the Emperor would go with this evocation for much longer. The ceremony was to end at sunset, thus many hours of torture remained. Suddenly, Sargon found himself eagerly anticipating the wedding night, mainly because he would be free of dull celebrations.

         Tala swayed on her feet, feeling her feet go numb from hours of standing still like a carved statue. She raised her eyes to the sun in a gesture that could be perceived as zealous, but in reality she was just checking the flow of time. If it was only possible, she would shove the sun down so that the hellish wedding would be over.

         She and Prince Sargon were forced to stand in the middle of the platform, while blessings were bestowed upon them. The sheer amount of well-wishers was horrifying. The Emperor’s speech was so long that it almost put Tala to sleep, and the ones of the Crown Prince and Princess Avani were only a bit more bearable. Tala’s parents and brother recited a quick prayer before fleeing the public sight. After the family, the priests’ and officials’ turn came.

         “How much longer?” Tala asked quietly, barely moving her mouth.

         “Not even half-way through.” Prince Sargon’s disheartening answer came.

         He sighed, and Tala’s sigh followed. They glanced at each other; a twin look of utter torment reflected in their eyes.

         Tala’s eyelids were feeling heavy and she was about to fall asleep standing, when the Highest Sun Priest of Gawanee made his entrance. His golden robes billowed dramatically in the mild wind, but his incredibly tall hat remained immovable.

         “Approach,” the elderly priest said, gesturing her and Prince Sargon to come closer.

         It was it. Suddenly, Tala felt a wave of panic flush over her. The lengthy speeches distracted her, but now the reality came crashing onto her. In a few moments, she wouldn’t be just Tala. She would become a married woman, and a princess of the Sun Empire. Her heart felt like bursting from her chest. Hastily, she wiped her sweaty palms in her dress, struggling to breathe normally. If she stayed so distressed, she wouldn’t be able to say the vows.

         “Don’t be afraid, girl,” the priest whispered encouragingly.

         Tala gasped, surprised that the consolation, but ceased trembling. It was, as if the Sun itself helped her get through this difficult moment.

         The Highest Sun Priest raised his arms to the Sun. Tala and Sargon mimicked his move, reaching out to grasp the solar blessing. The holy man nodded, signaling the bride and groom to commence their vows. Unlike in the religions of other kingdoms, the cult flourishing in the Sun Empire didn’t require the newlyweds to say a word to each other. An absolute silence fell when Tala and her groom exchanged the promises of mutual trust and support, that were to bond them in matrimony.

         Tala clasped her hands, pretending that she drew some of the Sun’s warmth and trapped it in her palms. The invisible treasure in her grasp was a token of hearth. In the Sun Empire it was a wife’s most sacred duty to nurture it. Tala lowered her arms and presented the symbolic gift to Prince Sargon.

         Prince Sargon also lowered his hands and put them over Tala’s clasped palms. Tala noticed that they were warm. It was a good sign – it meant that a man would be able to protect his family and support his wife in her task to keep the flame of hearth burning bright.

         When they looked at each other, there was fear in their eyes, as well as uncertainty. It appeared that the time stopped for a brief moment, leaving only the two of them in a limbo, filling it with their presence. The High Priest’s voice barely reached their ears, as he announced that the knot was tied. The deafening roar from the gathered crowd brought them to reality. Prince Sargon let go off Tala’s hands. His fingers seemed reluctant, as they slid over her skin, tracing her wrists and even forearms.

         They had barely exchanged the vows, when the fierce wedding guests attacked them with their invasive congratulations. The Crown Prince charged in his armor like a sun warrior besieging a Tayannese stronghold. Unceremoniously, he shoved the elderly priest out of the way and delivered a powerful pat on Sargon’s back. The younger of the Princes bent under the blow, scowling.

         “Congratulations, little brother!” Prince Jahan exclaimed jovially, aiming a second pat, but Sargon aptly moved out of the way. The Crown Prince turned his attention to Tala, but fortunately for her, he didn’t attempt to become overly familiar in his charming, yet violent way. Instead, he grinned at her and winked. “Welcome to the family, Princess Tala.”

         Tala nodded stiffly, still lingering in a numbing state of shock. She couldn’t quite comprehend how this morning she had been just a farmer’s daughter, and now she was the second most important woman in the Sun Empire, right after Princess Avani. It seemed surreal, yet it was true, Not only that – she had a husband too. Speaking of the devil, Prince Sargon grimaced more with each passing moment, as his older brother began giving him advice.

         Tala searched for her parents, but the crowd of noblemen and wealthy merchants was too insistent on congratulating the newlyweds and sneaking a peak on them, that a pair of peasants must have been swept away. She sighed, disappointed – she would prefer to meet her father and mother before random people she saw for the first time in her life. Eventually, she managed to speak with her family for a fleeting while, before having been snatched away to greet more important guests. 

         The brief meeting with her parents was the sole pleasant moment among the excruciating boredom of the overly long wedding ceremony. Receiving congratulations from various more or less influential personas was a grim prelude to being imprisoned at the table. The magnificent feast took place in the middle of the market square, on the wooden platform, so that everyone could partake in it. It was a splendid idea to induce general merriment. Fresh air was sweeping over the guests and the warmth of spring sun brought energy.

         Tala and her husband were forced to watch performances of the commoners, many of whom she actually knew. It started fairly interesting, but after several hours even the most elaborate entertainment lost its charm. Even delicious food failed to brighten up Tala’s mood. To add to her anguish, she was seated between two gloomiest people in the Sun Empire – the Emperor himself and her own husband. The sheer proximity of her father-in-law murdered any conversations before they even started.

         Although it appeared to last eternity, the dusk came eventually. Tala was well aware that she was supposed to feel nervous about the impending consummation of the marriage, but the festivities wore her out so much that she didn’t care anymore. When the darkness fell like a veil, she let out an elated sigh.

Author's note:

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