“...she fell into his arms again and kissed his neck over and over again. Huya caressed her without giving her a reply. In his mind, all he wanted was to play the chess game step by step and precisely."
The Scribe and his servants finally arrived Jub from the capital. Huya was told to bring The Scribe to the temple at a specific time. Kitsra and the other priestess came out to welcome his presence into the temple. The Scribe entered the court and greeted The Old Priestess who was seated.
“I bring greetings from King Norteapurt and blessings from Queen Disghertin, Fush-urah most favourable devotee,” said The Scribe, accompanied by Huya.
“May Her presence be filled in the King’s and Queen’s heart,” she replied. “We are honoured to have The Scribe into the temple of Fush-urah.”
The Old Priestess thought The Scribe might be representing the King to offer prayers on behalf of Queen Disghertin who had not been conceiving after their fifth child.
The Scribe sat beside The Old Priestess.
“I see Fush-urah had blessed the temple and Her priestesses,” The Scribe heeded Huya’s advice by putting on a smile before rushing into the actual matter.
“By Her grace, by Her grace. You bring news of Queen Disghertin? It had been five years from the Queen’s last visit to the temple.”
“After the death of the Second Prince, the Queen is hoping to conceive another son for the King.”
“The Queen sent you?” she asked. Much to his surprise, The Scribe thought The Old Priestess might have forgotten she owed him an explanation upon his daughter’s death.
“Besides the Queen’s order, I come for the sake of Kilahya, my daughter who was punished by the goddess of yours,” he whispered at her ears softly while pointing at the statue of Fush-urah sculptured on a pillar.
The Old Priestess saw anger in his eyes but was puzzled by his words.
“Kilahya?”
The cymbals in the temple clanked as the sun rose to its zenith.
Kitsra held on her hands to The Old Priestess. She raised her head and looked at Kitsra. Kitsra looked at her with a subtle grin with a gentle nod. The Old Priestess turned to The Scribe.
“I have to take my leave now,” she said. “Kitsra will speak to you.”
Kitsra took her right hand, helped her up from her seat and passed her on to a young priestess by her side.
The Old Priestess was suspicious. She convinced herself that it was her mouth that refused to ask but it fact it was her heart that was not ready for the punch.
***
Words of The Scribe's visit to Jub reached Kilahya’s ears. Knowing her heartless father visiting the temple, Kilahya decided to make a trip to see how well the old man had lived in the last four years.
Kitsra took over the conversation and had unnecessary people retreated from the hall.
The Old Priestess' prayers to Fush-urah was burdened for her meditation failed to restore peace in her heart throughout her prayers.
Kitsra, did as instructed by Huya, told The Scribe everything he needed to know. Huya, good in his pretense, was eager to see Kilahya’s body behind the veil at the courtyard and drew The Scribe's curious attention to look through the silhouette.
Accompanied by several servants and guards, Kilahya made her way to the temple on a sedan. As they marched passed the upper stream of Senio before entering the city, suddenly a crocodile leaped ashore and dragged a servant girl into the river. She was found only with two bloody arms and a torn abdomen left floating on the surface.
Troubled by the commotion going on, Kilahya came down from the sedan and was absolutely trembled by the scene she saw. The injured crocodile retaliated vigourously when a servant guard release an arrow towards it but it was eventually defeated.
She looked at the servant guard who had just protected her while the servant guard bowed slightly to show that the crocodile had left.
Kitsra did not miss out a chance to convince The Scribe on the process of resurrecting Kilahya from the dead.
"Return the land by the lower stream of Senio to Fush-urah," she said. "and her soul shall return."
Kitsra presented a papyrus stated the terms to return the land of Huya to the temple for The Scribe to sign on. Huya on the other hand signed on another piece to show that he was willing to rescue her deceased wife at the expense of surrendering his land to the goddess.
And it was done as planned.
The Scribe signaled his servants to depart after exiting the hall after making Kitsra swore upon Fush-urah that she would do anything to resurrect her daughter. Just at the time they left for the capital, Kilahya entered the temple from the other direction.
The Old Priestess realised she was trapped in the court of worship as the door was locked from outside. She returned to the altar and continued offer prayers to Fush-urah to watch over Kitsra and her actions.
***
“Finally,” said Huya and he kissed her all over on her neck.
“The Scribe might be a man of power but I see him as just another fool,” said Kitsra.
“You are the smart one, love.”
“If only Kilahya's death can be realised and her position in your house replaced by me,” said Kitsra. Huya was still kissing her, saying: “She was already dead to me.”
Though Kilahya was not aware of the conversation, she noticed the intimate action of the adulterers. Kilahya pretended nothing happened and walked into the hall in pride and carried out rituals of offering before the statue of Fush-urah.
Huya and Kitsra were shocked by her sudden entrance. Kitsra tidied her clothes and excused herself from Huya's laps while Huya stood and went up to Kilahya.
“What are you doing here?”
“We shall see who can answer this question. But I don’t think you can,” Kilahya said it as if she was talking to the air.
“I shall take my leave,” said Kitsra and ran quickly with the papyrus in her hands.
“It is just as you have seen.”
“As you wish. You can enter the temple of the women everyday as you wish. Perhaps you might need a Guhaty (head piece wore by rich Froyalean women) tailored for you, or perhaps you can borrow mine,” mocked Kilahya.
Huya was infuriated by he feared she might have overheard her fake death story. He just stood far aside and panted heavily.
“I heard my father was here.”
“He had left. He was here on a mission commanded by the Queen.”
“So it was I who was misinformed, I see,” she stood up in front of the statue and went nearer to Huya.
“I hope you treated him well for he is your father too.”
"Question not my filial piety."
'Well then," Kilahya made her silent prayer for few seconds and headed towards the exit.
“By the way," she turned to Huya saying her final words before leaving. "Stripping her boring priestess costume, I see she is quite a gem.”
Huya vented his anger by knocking down a row of candle stood on the table. On second thought, he became high-spirited and burst out in laughter knowing that he had gain back his land.
***
The Old Priestess sought forgiveness from Fush-urah for she had not fully committed herself to the goddess during the noon prayer. In every sentence she chanted before the goddess, the image of Kitsra flashed across her mind.
Locked in the prayer hall for past couple of hours, she reminded herself that she need not fear for Fush-urah would take care of Her temple. She sat in front of the door, watching the light of the last row of candle died off. The room was in darkness but shimmering sunlight shone through the gap of windows from side to keep her warmed.
The door was finally unlocked. Bright light penetrated into the dimness, causing The Old Priestess to cover her eyes with two hands. Kitsra walked into the hall.
“I will make sure the one locked you here be punished.”
“Enlighten me with who is 'the one'.”
“I doubt you would remember her name, or even know her by her look.”
“I see through her heart.”
“Praise Fush-urah for your vision and your age,” Kitsra looked at the statue behind the sitted Old Priestess. She continued: “The Scribe and his men had left.”
“I hope they were well attended.”
“Just as you wished. He even gave us a piece of land near the upper stream of Senio.”
The Old Priestess raised her head up to see her face: “He has no reason to do so for he does not worship Fush-urah, neither do women in his family.”
“He might have been touched by the spirit of Fush-urah.”
“Come clean before Fush-urah.”
“The goddess would be pleased with everything I do for I had brought her fortune. And our sisters need not worry about money anymore.”
The Old Priestess stood up from her seat and walked out directly from the hall without commenting on her words.
***
The news of the servant girl ripped apart by a crocodile traveled fast. It came swiftly but with a powerful stab into Jesauma’s heart after hearing the tragedy. On the way to see Kilahya, she was deeply troubled by every image of the girl struggling to survive from the crocodile predatory.
“Who was the girl, Kilahya, tell me,” she pleaded her by holding her hands. Kilahya brushed off her hands gently and replied: “I do not know.”
“Who else was there with you?” she asked again.
“I do not memorise names of servants.”
Jesauma could not get an answer from the prideful Kilahya who regarded servants as lowly animals. Even death, was just too insignificant for her to shed a tear, she thought. When Jesauma was about to leave in disappointment, Kilahya said in her coarse voice: “There was a man servant who shot the crocodile with his arrow. Find him.”
Jesauma looked at her from the back and spewed out a sincere ‘thank you’. Kilahya exhaled breath she held back just like the way she held her pride up high so that no one could see the emotional side of her after hearing running footsteps of Jesauma out from her room.
(to be continued...)
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