Page 34 of Over the Emerald Valley
“Ooh, tell me of conquered lands and vanquished enemies. Make it romantic.”
“Battle isn’t romantic, plucky.”
Temaj blew an exaggerated sigh, ruffling Solon’s hair. “Tell me how it really is, then.”
Solon cleared his throat. “You’re certain it’s war you want to hear about? It’s not nice. Dirt, blood, hunger, thirst. Ugly stuff.”
A look back at Temaj’s own life revealed much the same—dirt, blood, hunger, thirst. Maybe he didn’t want to hear of battle after all. “Point taken. You choose. I just want to hear your voice.”And feel your chest rumble against mine as you speak.
“Then I shall tell you of the travel instead, for that part is the most interesting anyway.”
Travel made Temaj’s stomach sick, but he’d heard if you could actually see where you were going, the sickness couldn’t take hold. “Were you on horseback?”
“Sometimes. Mostly aboard a chariot.”
“Where did you go?”
"Most recently? To the Sikait emerald mines. Familiar with them?”
Temaj gave a courtesy chuckle to acknowledge the jest, but the last thing he wanted to hear about was the dusty old mines outside his windows. “Tell me of the north.”
“All right.” In the moment of silence that passed, Solon adjusted his grip on Temaj, one hand on his hip, the other across his knees.
Temaj glanced at the hand in his lap. Tanned, scarred, tough. He loved Solon’s hands.
“There are two ways to get to the northern lands of the Hittites, by land or by sea. Both possess magnificent sights. Different but equally beautiful. The seacoast is in part settled and modern and in part wild and rugged terrain. The farther inland you travel, the more the desert sprawls and morphs into vast windswept grasslands. The views can make the world seem like a very big place indeed.”
“You like the travel?”
“I love it. I love it a great deal more than all the battle and the killing, that’s for sure.”
“Why does Egypt fight the Hittites? Why even care?”
“Land, Temaj. For control of the land. They’re encroaching on our people, our villages. For generations, we’ve flipped from peace to war and back over the same tract of land. In times of peace, we trade. Our papyrus for their silver. Or for grain when the river’s floods are minimal.”
“And in times of war?”
Solon grunted. “We kill. It’s them or us. My vote is for us.”
“Is it really that simple?”
“Nothing’s that simple. As you’ve said before when putting me in my place, I do as I’m told. The decisions aren’t mine. They belong to our pharaoh.”
“You like him.”
“Yes. Horemheb is a good man. He cares for his people. Provides for them.”
“Then is it so strange for you to believe that I think of Abasi in the same way? He cares for us. Provides what we need.”
“I thought I was telling you a story.”
Temaj laughed. “Apologies. Do proceed.”
“Crossing the sea can be a dangerous affair…”
Temaj relaxed, trusting Solon to bear his weight as he listened, leaning against him as the general spoke of ships, storms, soldiers, and seafaring. He imagined the waves, the open sky, bathing in the endless water.
But now that he’d thought of the inevitable parting, Temaj dreaded it. How long would Solon stay in Sikait? How many stories and stolen moments could he have before it was over?
