• A Small Room at a Hot Time of the Morning by Davis
• The Lion's Noose by Lloyd
• This Side of the Rainbow by DeMoss
• Grandpa's Bluetooth by Fowler
• Down Low by Long
• Crayons by Adams

The Lion's Noose

By Dawn Lloyd

 

Narrated by Bob Eccles

 

It is a hard thing to watch your wife, the woman you have loved for nearly forty-four years, leave to search the truth about the man she loves, even if his death was long ago. It is even harder when you know he was the same goat herder who sold milk to your father's servants. But the hardest thing of all is to hear her lie.

"My Lion," she says, cupping my chin in her hand the way she always has. "I'll think of you every night while I'm away. And I'll return as soon as the priest has blessed our daughter's marriage."

"You know I love you, and I'll be thinking of you also." All other words fail me, so I simply hold her hand close to my heart. How can I beg her not to go when I always knew this day would come?

#

I can't say I was proud of my noble birth. In truth, I thought of it no more than one thinks of the color of the gazelle killed in the hunt, or the blue of the sky—until the gray sands hide the gazelle, or the sky is buried behind storm clouds. In my case, the storm clouds came when my parents decided to marry me to the daughter of a merchant.

Oh, I was old enough to understand the reasons. For the last decade, the entire desert region had suffered from a drought, with the rains that usually came every other month now coming only once a year. We'd maintained our villa, the stables and caravans, the date orchards, and hundreds of workers only by sinking further and further in debt. Ruqaya came from a wealthy merchant family who had their eyes set on marrying into nobility. But love has never been about economics, and at seventeen the aspects of marriage that interested me had nothing to do with date orchards.

Admittedly, she was attractive, but she wasn't Faiqa. I'd spent months arguing with my father. "But our social standing will be higher if we align ourselves with Faiqa's family. And surely the drought will end soon, then we won't have to worry about finances."

My father put his hand on my shoulder and gestured towards the hall where we'd hosted the engagement dinner the night before. "How many of those here last night do you think married for love? But they're happy now. Love grows with time."

I followed his gaze. It had echoed with the voices of other nobility and the highest of Shedd's merchant elite. They all congratulated Ruqaya and me, politely not mentioning our respective social backgrounds.

We'd sold another ten camels to pay for the engagement and wedding, justifying it with the upcoming economic union. Father had placed the two wine vessels with the gold inlay imported from the mountains at the front of the table, and instructed the servants to keep refilling them with cheaper local wine throughout the night.

Then Faiqa's father brought another five vessels of the same. "Ah, that was very generous of you." My father's eyes flashed between anger and relief. He turned to the servants, with a look that meant his new instructions had nothing to do with his words, "We'll use half of theirs and half of our own, and save the rest for the wedding." The servants took the wine and scurried off, and we drank expensive wine all night.

The night would not have been so bad except every time I spoke to Ruqaya, her merchant accent confronted me. "Kifir," she began, as we sat in the garden on the bench we'd draped with blue silk. "I am sure …"

"Kfir," I corrected.

She blushed and looked at her hands. The green beads fringing her sleeves quivered. "Keefir," she tried again, accenting the first syllable a bit too heavily, "I'm sure we'll have many sons. You will be proud."

"And you'll have gold necklaces, and I will buy you only the finest wines to drink." I tried not to think of the irony.

She giggled, and I reached for her hand. For a split second, she hesitated, and when she took it, I noticed with relief that it was as damp as mine.

"I think …" She blinked and pushed a strand of curly black hair out of her eyes, "I think I will call you 'Lion.' And then I won't have to say your name at all."

In that minute, the annoyance started to fade. Not because I'd stopped caring about her looks, or because of the alliance, or even because she was as nervous as me, but because she was willing to hide her background.

In retrospect, it was not a particularly good reason to love someone.

What I didn't know was that, even as I began to accept the idea of my life with this girl, she had bound her heart elsewhere. And so I went on, in not quite blissful ignorance, telling myself she idolized me and our marriage.

A month later, when the engagement was well underway and we were halfway to the wedding, I learned the truth. Ktas, who was expected to marry Faiqa, was riding with me outside the rock walls of the city's old quarter. The nearby well with its patch of grass and palm trees had largely fallen to disuse, but the nearby grounds still provided a popular gathering place for training. In the middle of the white sand and sky, the morning had fallen silent as we'd jammed the stakes holding the rings in a rough square and raced the pattern, trying to catch as many with our swords as possible.

Catching all four to his one, I'd beaten him soundly. I tipped the sword with the rings and ties flapping in salute to Faiqa and the two other girls sitting under the grove of water palms admiring us.

Ktas trotted past, grabbing the ropes and yanking the rings off my sword. "You're supposed to gallop at full tilt."

I shrugged, straightening the sleeves of the blue shirt that marked me as part of Shedd's nobility. "Nightwind is faster. It's not my fault if it looks like he's only cantering."

"You think he's so fast? Want to try a flat race?" It should have been a friendly challenge, would have been with anyone else. The set of his jaw said otherwise.

Full of bravado, I grabbed his reins, an insult usually intended as jest. I knew it would infuriate him. "You wouldn't want to race me now. Faiqa is watching."

"Let go of the reins," he snarled, and his eyes jerked to the palms.

I let go and tried not to smirk. "Just a joke."

"To make me look bad."

I cocked my head, faking innocence. "Why would I want to do that? Everyone knows your engagement is inevitable. And the arrangements for my own wedding are already well underway. I'm hardly competition."

I glanced at the girls. They were watching us.

This time, he lunged for my reins. I saw it coming in time to tap Nightwind's shoulder, but not fast enough to get away, so I let him. No reason to show it bothered me. He tugged, and Nightwind stepped closer. "At least I'm not marrying a girl who'd rather have a goat herder."

"Can't think of any better rumors to spread than that?" It wasn't a very good response, but I couldn't think what else to say. The words made no sense, and I wasn't about to ask. So I changed the topic. "You wanted a flat race?"

He released the reins and walked towards the pile of yellow rocks we used to mark the starting line. "To the termite mound and back."

His horse turned well. Nightwind didn't. "You said a flat race. Winner is the first one to the mound."

He couldn't disagree since he'd made the challenge, so he grunted acceptance. A minute later he shouted, "go", and a minute and a half later I won. The girls cheered for me.

Ktas growled and spun back to charge the rings again. At least he managed to catch two, but the fight had gone out of me. I wanted to know what he meant about a drover, and I didn't want to learn it from him.

Victoriously waving the rings, he trotted back.

I snorted. "Most impressive."

He glared.

I continued. "And, since I couldn't hope to beat your two rings, I think I'll be going. Good luck with Faiqa."

Turning away before he had a chance to answer, I trotted towards the girls, slowing to a walk so I wouldn't kick up dust around them. They stopped their whispering.

Faiqa stood to greet me. "You rode well today."

Tipping my head in humble acknowledgment, I pulled three of the purple flowers clustered on a lower limb of the water palm. "Only because you were here to cheer me on." I dismounted and handed each of them a flower in turn, Faiqa first.

She kissed it. "I heard you're engaged now."

Why did she have to know? "It's true. My father has made a fair," I tried not to choke, "match. But I fear no girl can rival your beauty."

Her cheeks brightened. "It's a sad day in Shedd now that the girls can no longer hope for the handsome Kfir." And then she did something that, for all our pleasantries and fine words, I had never dreamed. She untied her hair, and unwound the beaded blue ribbon braided into it.

It took all the composure I'd learned in my seventeen years not to stare agape.

"To remember those heartbroken girls in Shedd, crying on your wedding day."

I wanted desperately to turn and see if Ktas was watching, but undoubtedly he was, and I didn't dare shift my attention. I did, however, turn just enough that he would see me pull my sleeve up over my shoulder and hold my arm out for her to tie it.

Still too shocked to think of a new line, I fell back on the one I'd just used. "And now, since there can be nothing else that can better this morning after the gift, I fear I must go and mourn my own loss now."

She was smiling as I turned jumped into the saddle. I bowed to them, flourishing the sword in salute. Faiqa returned it with a small bow herself.

I rode off, still wanting nothing more than to look back at Ktas.

#

Faiqa's beads rubbed against my arm all through lunch, and I didn't think of drovers until after. I decided to ask Mouza. Sisters had better insights into these things.

She was sitting by the empty pool in the garden embroidering yellow triangles on the hat she'd stitched for our brother's birthday. I sat down beside her. "You know, my wedding deserves more attention than his birthday."

She laughed. "There's still plenty of time."

Then, because I had to brag to someone, I pulled up my sleeve to show her the beads.

She ran a finger along the ribbon. "When did Ruqaya give them to you?"

"They're from Faiqa," I explained, as if no other explanation were necessary.

Her eyes widened. "Really? Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'?"

"She knows you're engaged. And I heard her engagement to Ktas is supposed to be announced any day. Why would she give it to you now?"

"Well, when is she supposed to do it? After we're both married?"

She pulled the sleeve back over my arm. It hung loose.

"I suppose," she muttered, with far less conviction than I wanted. "So, is that what you came out here to show me?" She picked up the hat and needle again.

I hesitated, wanting to delay the implications of my question. "Ktas made a comment today. I was wondering if you knew anything about it?"

The needle flashed back and forth, and the triangle grew by lines. "Hmm?"

"He was talking about Ruqaya and a drover?"

"A drover?"

I bit down on my lip, then forced it out. "Something about her being in love with a drover."

The needle kept its pace. "You think she's going to throw away marrying into our family for a drover? That's ridiculous."

"No, I don't think that's what he meant." Why did I have to argue to make her see? "But if she, well, if she loves him …"

She tugged a thread tight, then set the hat down. "Kfir," she said, as if comforting a small child that had seen an owl at dawn. "I can't imagine you have anything to worry about. Half the time I sit by the well, all I do is answer questions about you. And you're worried about a drover?" She patted my arm where the beads were tied. "I'll find out quietly if you want, just so you can put aside those silly ideas. But for now, let's talk about something else." She stared up at the sky, thinking of a topic. "Did you hear the argument about what to serve at the dinner?"

And so we talked, for the next half hour, about the seating arrangements and drinks and whether the meat should be spicy. When at last I left, there was another yellow triangle on the cap, and my worries had nearly faded.

#

The answer came three days later. Standing outside the gate, with the late afternoon sun nearly blinding me, I squinted at the workers unloading the baskets of dates from the camels. The job was going faster than it would have a few years ago. Our caravans had thirty camels, only a quarter what they once had, and the baskets were only half-full. More camels gave the appearance of greater harvests.

I'd been wishing for an interruption from the abysmally dull task when my sister came out of the villa. Sitting on the heavy pine chair we'd imported from the sea towns, she waited until I finished and went to sit on the stone bench across from her.

I wiped my forehead. "Come out to enjoy the heat?"

She didn't smile.

My smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"I wanted to talk to you alone."

Leaning forward, I braced a hand against the bench. The stone was too hot, though, and I sat back straight. "What about?"

"You remember when you asked me about Ruqaya's drover?"

My stomach curled. I didn't want her broaching drovers with that tone.

"Well, I went down to the market looking for a necklace. I've got to have a new one for the wedding, after all, especially since Saadia bought one just like the one I was going to wear. I found one that was perfect, but I'm afraid father will get angry if I buy it."

I willed her to get to the point.

"While I was looking at it, Ruqaya came down pretending to buy milk herself. Well, I assume she was pretending, since I can't imagine she'd come herself."

"And then?"

She fidgeted with her skirt, rolling it into a ball in the way our mother was always telling her proper ladies didn't do. I was ready to jump the path and drag the words from her.

"Well? What happened?"

"She ignored the sellers until one particular one got there. He sold her some milk, and they talked until he'd finished. Then they left in opposite directions."

"You followed her?"

"They met on the other side of the market, and started towards her home together, goats and all..."

"You didn't keep following them?"

"I did, until they got outside the city walls. I couldn't stay hidden after that."

I stared at her.

Her tone softened. "I think maybe Ktas was at least partially right."

"A goat herder? She can't love a goat herder!" "Exactly. He's a goat herder. I wouldn't let it worry you too much."

I stared at the orange rocks bordering the walkway. Curse sisters for trying to protect you. "You're not telling me what you saw."

"It's not really important. He's just a shepherd boy, after all."

"Tell me."

She took in a breath and let it out slowly. "It's not something to interfere with the wedding, but," she paused again, "they kissed."

I sat there, at first not aware of anything, and then keenly aware of everything from the hot bench to the sweat fly buzzing around my forehead. I wasn't so arrogant, even then, as to expect her to be madly in love with me. But running after a goat herder was too much.

I slammed my hand down and jumped up. A drover! I started towards the villa. She could have him and marry him for all I cared. I wouldn't be second to a drover.

I was halfway to the house when she called me back. "Kfir."

I turned, fury blurring the path.

"Kfir, think. Insult or not, you can't call off the wedding. We'll have to sell off half the orchards."

I spat on the ground. "That's to the importance of the wedding."

Silence. The stone was already drying white before she spoke again, quietly. "You're still wearing Faiqa's beads, aren't you?"

"That's not the same."

"Why not?" Whose side was she on, anyway? "Because Faiqa isn't some washer woman. And I didn't kiss her."

She looked at me in that infuriating way younger sisters have when they're acting like older sisters. "This is an insult to our whole family, Kfir. But if we call off the wedding, it'll be our honor at stake. Besides, everyone will want to know why. And if they don't figure out the truth, they'll make it up. Your reputation will be ruined."

If she'd been a man, I would have pummeled her for being right. Instead I stood there like a lion that had just butted against the wall and hated the stones for it. I stomped towards the stables. I had to get to the market to investigate. Immediately.

The caravan master waved at me, "What of the dates?"

"I don't care."

"Worthy Sir …" He started after me. "Do you wish us to unload here? Or continue on?"

"Do whatever you want with them."

He raised his hands as if to press on, but I'd already stormed back towards the stables.

I paced, hurling rocks at fence posts and screaming threats at the groom saddling Nightwind. A minute later, I galloped toward the market. The fifteen minutes gave me far too much time to think of a goat herder with calloused hands and dirty sandals kissing my fiance.

At last I stopped at the narrow archway leading to the open air market, I threw the reins at a boy, still thinking of little more than crushing a drover's throat.

I stomped through the empty pens of the livestock market towards the stands where the milk and cheese sellers gathered. The sparse evening crowd scurried out of my way. I grabbed the first cheese seller, a wisp of a man about twice my age, by the collar. "I want the name of the goat herder who sells milk here."

"There are a dozen goat herders who sell milk, Worthy Sir." He looked to the others for help. "If you could tell me which one?"

"The one who …" I stopped. I could hardly say, the one Ruqaya kissed. "The one who was here this morning. Young. He sells milk to Ruqaya."

He raised his hands in begging protest. "I'm sorry, Worthy Sir, but I don't know who Ruqaya is."

I yanked harder, jerking him off the wooden bench. "She's a merchant's daughter, and needn't come down here herself."

He shook his head again and I shoved him back. A group of concerned milk sellers had clustered around us, with a group of less concerned bystanders beyond. One of the sellers leaned in. "I think I may know the girl you're referring to."

"Lady."

"Lady, of course. She's tall, with dark hair?"

"Yes." I stepped towards the speaker. "And the one she buys milk from?"

He scratched his head. "I'm afraid I don't quite remember. It's been a long and stressful day without many sales."

I pulled a copper from my pouch and threw it at his feet. He had the self-respect not to scramble for it. "I think his name's Tashi."

The onlookers murmured and glared.

"Is he here now?"

They all shook their heads.

I whirled. I had nowhere to go, but didn't want to be there.

The rage saved me.

As I rounded the narrow corner between the high, mud-brick walls leading to the iron workers, someone lunged. Already tense, I swung around just as a bar grazed my ear and smashed into my shoulder. At the time, I barely felt it. Years of practice had prepared me well. I grabbed his shoulder and jerked back, knocking him off balance. As he stumbled, I spun and threw him against the wall. Keeping my chest up against him, I grabbed for the bar with one hand and my knife with the other. I held it at his throat.

"Who are you?"

He didn't answer and I pressed in. "Tell me!"

"Nobody." Then, as if it would make a difference, "Noll."

"Who sent you?"

"No one. I came … I was … It was because you were rich. I need money, for my family."

"Who sent you?" I kneed him hard. He grunted. "Tell me or I'll kill you here."

"Ktas. Ktas hired me."

I nearly dropped the knife right then. We'd been rivals, certainly, but not this.

"What were you supposed to do? Kill me?"

"No, no." He tried to shake his head but stopped at the knife. "Just beat you. He said he wanted everyone to see that you couldn't fight when you went home injured."

Slowly, oddly, the anger melted away. I knew what I had to do. The blood dripped from my ear and ran down my neck. The pain pulsed through my arm.

"You'll come back with me. Tell the court it was Tashi the drover who hired you to kill me, and I'll see that you're let off."

He stared at me, and I turned the knife. A surface cut, but the blood flowed faster. "You'll tell them."

He paused, but only for a moment. "Yes, yes, whatever you want."

Ramming his arm up against the mud brick wall, I yanked the bar away. I looked for something to tie him with, but the hard dirt path was empty, so I kept the knife at his throat and clenched the back of his shirt. I struggled to keep from weaving as I pushed him in the direction I had come. I pushed him into the first iron seller's stall we came to, and ordered him to tie the prisoner and send for a cart. The prisoner was a good excuse to cover for the fact that I wasn't nearly steady enough to ride home alone.

#

The blood had clotted by the time the caravan stopped at our gate and the driver helped me down. Nightwind had been tied behind, and someone took him to the stable. I held my head as if that would cut the pain. The driver reached for my arm, but I shook him off.

I'd closed the door and sank into a chair before my father came in. He dropped his cup. Ceramic shattered. "Kfir!"

"I was attacked." Speaking hurt almost as much as riding in the cart had. The place on my ear echoed.

"Get a physician," he yelled at the inner chambers.

I wanted to shake my head to reassure him, but that made the throbbing worse. "It's not serious."

He reached for my head, then stopped. His hand trembled. "Who?"

"A thug. The man who brought me back has him outside."

"But who? Why?" His voice was low, the words cold. He didn't move, just clenched his fists until they shook more.

"He says his name's Noll." For a brief moment, almost, I reconsidered. Then, "He was hired by Tashi."

"Who?" He leaned in, hands still tight against the armrest.

"Tashi. A goat herder."

"A what?" My father's tone made me realize how absurd the story sounded. He yelled back inside, "get a physician."

One of the boys came running, then froze.

"The physician. Go!" The boy raced out the door. A minute later, family and servants flooded the room. Half of them wanted me to press the cloth hard against my head, and the other half wanted to take it away to see.

#

They spent the evening fussing over me. When at last they left, I slept badly. I told myself it was my head, but I wouldn't have slept well regardless. If I concentrated hard enough, I could almost believe it had been Tashi's name he'd said—almost.

I awoke before breakfast and pushed aside the servants intending to search for either the camel puller or my sister. Mouza sat by my door.

"You should be lying down," she began, in that way women do when they think we are as frail as they.

In truth, the pain was no better than yesterday, and a dizziness had set in, but I needed answers. "I'm fine. Have you talked to the man who brought him in?"

"Father has."

"And?"

Her eyebrows knitted. "I'll tell you if you'll sit down."

I slumped into the chair, making sure to roll my eyes so she knew I was humoring her.

She knelt and rearranged the bandage as if that would make it heal faster. "All he'll say is that he was hired by Tashi." She released the bandage and looked at me. "A drover."

I breathed a half-sigh of relief.

"I wonder," she tucked the end of the cloth in and rested her hand on my arm, "how someone like him got the money for an attack."

"Maybe they were friends and that's why he did it."

She considered. "Maybe. But it would be a terrible thing if he were blamed because someone, the man who attacked you perhaps, had a grudge against him."

My voice came out louder than intended . "He said it was Tashi. What does the rest matter?" My head pounded.

"I'm not going to tell, Kfir, but don't lie to me, either."

I didn't say anything.

She thought for a minute, then went on. "I can't help thinking. When Tashi's killed, you'll never really be able to win Ruqaya away from him." She patted my arm as if to reassure me. "Oh, I know you could. It's just that you'll never really know. I think that would be a pity, too."

She knew me far too well. The thought of spending my marriage competing with him nearly made me jump out of the chair to tell the attacker to forget the whole thing. But when I stood, the pain flashed. My vision narrowed, and I fell back.

#

Over the next day, when I awoke, it was to find my mother or Mouza or occasionally my father by my bed. I spoke to the doctor, the servants, my parents, but only enough to reassure them. In truth, the pain was less, and the dizziness had faded, but I pretended nevertheless. When Mouza came, I left my eyes closed, because to wake meant to speak.

So my impulsive story about Tashi the drover remained.

It was the morning of the second day when I turned my head, expecting to see a servant, and saw my father and sister instead.

Father pulled a chair to my bed and sat. "How are you feeling?"

"About the same." I groaned louder than necessary.

"We've caught Tashi. Are you well enough to attend the trial?"

"No."

Mouza leaned in so she could see the wound, or at least the bandages. "We can bring a litter. Don't you want to see the man who tried to kill you?"

"No." Then, when the answer seemed too blunt, "Has he confessed?"

Father shook his head.

"And the one who attacked me?"

Mouza answered, looking me full in the face. "He's said that the drover paid him and he carried it out."

I craned my eyes back to see my father. "I told him if he'd confess, we'd pardon him."

Father stroked his beard. "Very well."

I breathed easier.

"And this drover?" He asked. "People are going to ask his motives."

Mouza coughed. I refused to look at her.

I couldn't quite bring myself to say it. It was enough that my sister knew. At last father skipped it and went on. "Noose or sword?"

"I don't care."

My father looked at me.

"And you're sure you aren't strong enough to attend?"

At that moment, I was sure of nothing except that one fact. "I can't."

He sighed. "Very well." He started towards the door, shaking his head to himself. "These are dark days when drovers attack nobles."

I closed my eyes, pretending to be angry, or overwhelmed, or simply tired, until I heard the door close. I opened them again, knowing it was too much to hope that Mouza had left also.

She hadn't. "You know, Kfir? Eventually you and Ruqaya will love each other. But the day she proves she loves Tashi more..." She stood and pushed father's chair back to its place by the wall. "That, my beloved brother, will be the darkest day of all."

I couldn't bring myself to reply, and I rolled over so my back was to her. Sometime later, I heard her quiet footsteps leave the room. And some time well after that, I imagined I heard the crowd in the city square shout as the verdict was carried out.

But the square was miles from our house, and in truth, I heard nothing.

BIO:

Dawn Lloyd's work has appeared (or is forthcoming) in a variety of magazines including Space and Time, The Future Fire, and OG's Speculative Fiction Magazine.

Copyright © 2011 Liquid Imagination