Princess of Zenina Read online

  Vlama was present, but she wore military dress uniform of a long golden skirt with slits high to her hips. The skirt had no train and Vlama wore a sword with it. Bromarsh suspected she could still fight if necessary in the skirt. He also felt that considering her colour sense it was wise for her to stay in uniform. Lahoda wore an indigo and gold trimmed skirt which was also worn by several other women. This was dress uniform for the Royal Household.

  The Banqueting Hall was full of women, Gold, Silvers, Blues and a few Greens and Ebonies, all of them except Marina and Stenlina were naked except for their jewels to the waist. Jewels adorned the arms, necks, hair and ears of all the ladies present. The gems were of such size even one would have kept him in lavish luxury for the rest of his natural Markaban life. Many wore ornate coronets upon complicated, exaggerated hair arrangements. There were also a number of handsome males who wore their owners badges with pride.

  Princess Marina introduced a few of the guests to him, a Silver with a daffodil yellow train was the Royal Zeninan Poet, a Blue in palest green was Kezalda, owner of the largest merchant fleet in the Zeninan Empire. Marina reclined on her couch as a Silver lady in apricot came to talk. Marina introduced her to Bromarsh.

  “Colonel Bromarsh may I introduce Admiral Folada, she’s the head of the Zeninan Navy.”

  “Honoured to meet you, Admiral,” Bromarsh said politely, shaking hands.

  Marina and Folada conversed together briefly in what he assumed was Hemithean, before Folada got up.

  “Please to meet you Colonel, if you fancy a sail, you can come and inspect us anytime. Visitors are always welcome.” She invited him reverting to speaking Markaban.

  Vlama wove her way through the throng.

  “Congratulations on your promotion, Colonel” she commented, before moving on.

  Others came and were introduced, but beautiful though each of them were, Bromarsh found he soon could not remember which names and faces went together. What colour had the Chief Architect been wearing and which had been the expert in waste disposal. Bromarsh noticed whilst the room bustled with people moving from one couch to another, Zadina’s was rarely visited and whilst Dalzina and Kapalina were never short of company, Marina was surrounded. Klivina came and sat with Bromarsh running her fingers possessively through his hair.

  Princess Marina took the opportunity to visit Kapalina.

  “How are you healing?” Marina asked politely.

  “I’m still in considerable pain,” Kapalina answered.

  “Would you like me to help your regeneration?”

  “Would you? Yes, thank you very much,” she replied gratefully.

  Marina was the acknowledged expert in regeneration. She laid her hands on Kapalina’s body. Everyone looked around as her energy went into Kapalina. Marina withdrew her hands as Kapalina propped herself up on her elbows, swung herself around and stood up. Marina had accomplished in a few seconds what her body had struggled to heal, despite her natural regenerative ability.

  “Thank you, the pain has all gone,” Kapalina declared smiling.

  “You’re very welcome, don’t drink too much after regeneration,” was all Marina said in reply.

  Kapalina returned to her couch looking much more comfortable as Marina re-seated herself on her own couch.

  Suddenly everyone stood, except for Marina. Bromarsh stood too. All the slaves present knelt, bowing their heads low. Queen Kerina entered wearing heavy cloth of gold, the mermaid and lioness picked out in small gemstones on her train. She was bedecked with more trinkets than a jeweller’s shop. Heavy bracelets of diamonds and rubies covered her arms from wrist to elbow, more embraced her upper arms. Her hands sparkled with huge stones on every finger.

  A wide diamond collar interspaced with rows of huge black pearls encased her shoulders and massive diamonds were suspended from her ears. Her hair plaited into a woven braid pattern was interspersed with strings of small amber and opal beads. On top of her hair sat the Ancient Crown of Zenina, a lofty construction of spires and pinnacles beaten from heavy gold encrusted with large cut stones of great size and brilliance, it looked heavy and extremely uncomfortable to wear.

  Behind Kerina entered Kabaneev. He wore golden trousers and tunic, but held himself gracefully. Bromarsh understood what Vlama had said about him looking like a young man. Following after them, Plavina entered wearing scarlet trimmed with gold, heavily embroidered with jewels and holding her arm was Prince Ga’Mikkal. He was clad in a long purple tunic with golden braid edgings in the Kurgian style. Across the breast of the tunic he wore a wide yellow sash and several intricately jewelled decorations. Beneath the tunic he wore loose white damask trousers.

  Bringing up the rear the Kurgian Ambassador and a number of Kurgians together with members of the Royal Household took their places. Princess Marina stood up as her mother approached, leaning forward into a deep bow. She inclined her head to her father, acknowledging her sister with a small bow. Her sister returned the bow at the same degree. A very slight inclination of her head was all Ga’Mikkal received in return for his low formal bow with his hands together in the Kurgian fashion to her.

  Prince Ga’Mikkal’s opinion of Marina’s dress was similar to ‘Colonel’ Bromarsh’s, but he anticipated the sound of the satin ripping as he tore it from her body. He tried to avoid visualising the scene with Marina, but his thoughts surprised even him in their violence. In his imaginings Marina succumbed passively to his savage urges. He bruised and brutalised her body, as she smiled at him with sweet little girl eyes, an expression of longing for him on her face. The milk sop beside him could not compare with his dream girl. That Princess Marina in character was nothing like the submissive damsel he dreamed of, his wishful fantasies did not question.

  Queen Kerina stretched on her couch on the right of Marina. Some torches around the three walls of the Banqueting Hall were extinguished and a few more lit around the central floor of the room. The fourth side of the hall, opened to a terrace which led out into the palace gardens. A series of pillars held the floor above, between which hung delicate curtains of pastel gauze weighted to let in the breeze but keep out the nocturnal insect life of Hemithea. Outside the open wall were folded partitions which could be secured to make a fourth wall. Guards patrolled the terrace. Curtained balconies ran along the end wall looking down into the Hall.

  A Gold woman dressed in the indigo dress uniform stood upon a podium underneath a branch of torches. She began to read from a scroll of parchment she held, a lilting tongue which undulated up and down her vocal range. This was High Zeninan, the Gold tongue which apart from official occasions was rarely spoken. Many of those present had difficulty following the words of the archaic language of the Herald.

  Marina’s thought in Bromarsh’s mind tersely translated. “She’s Jazina, Chief Royal Herald. My mother Queen Kerina’s titles.... Welcoming us all to the occasion of the sixtieth anniversary of her reign... Welcoming Prince Ga’Mikkal... his titles... Welcoming the Kurgian Ambassador,... the Zigan Ambassador,...the Markaban Ambassador. Smile and wave, Bromarsh... telling of the successes of Queen Kerina’s reign... of the great and working treaties between the peoples of the Zeninan and Kurgian Empires... hoping those treaties will bring an era of peace and understanding between planets.... On this joyous occasion, the Princess Marina has graciously agreed....”’

  Marina’s voice rang out in the same melodious language just a few words correcting the Herald. In Bromarsh’s mind she translated. “By Royal Command, not graciously agreed.” The Herald continued and Marina continued translating, “By Royal Command, the Princess Marina.... my titles... will dance for us tonight... my cue. Excuse me.”

  The commentary stopped and Marina languorously rose to her feet. She walked slowly to the centre of the floor. A small group of musicians entered. They carried drums, panpipes and an instrument resembling a small harp.

  Princess Marina bowed again to her mother, raising her hands to her hair, pulling loose the coronet and pins that boun
d her hair, tossing them to the floor as her hair tumbled in waves over her feet. She swept it back over her shoulders, reaching with both hands behind her to the bow that held her dress in place. With one smooth backward movement she parted the bow. Gracefully her hands moved to the neck of the dress, pushing it open a little she slipped it down so her shoulders were now exposed. She carefully undid the wrist buttons securing the sleeves and released the dress, so it slid with a swish to puddle around her feet. She walked away from the gown, sweeping her hair back once more, over her shoulders.

  All eyes were on Marina. She had been naked under the dress except from the bands of bells around her ankles and an oval emerald, the size of a baby’s fist which she wore in her navel. She stepped out of the crystal slippers and silent servants removed the discarded garments. Torches around the room were put out leaving only those around the floor still lit, plunging the audience into darkness.

  Prince Ga’Mikkal was striving to dissuade his body from reacting to his lust. She was too thin for his taste, but it changed nothing, her poise made her to him the most desirable woman in the universe. He gave up the attempt, as the music began and Marina started to dance. He rolled onto his stomach leaning on his elbows, so he could observe the object of his desire.

  This was not the classical dance that Marina had rehearsed. This dance, whilst still occasionally danced in competition, was of far greater antiquity. Gasps went round the room as the audience correlated her attitudes correctly. They had been expecting the repetition of her competition repertoire with jaded indifference. Princess Marina was performing a very old dance whose origins predated those of Demina’s Fertility Cult.

  The dance was regularly performed by acolytes in the temple of Demina so badly, that comic artists parodied it in a grotesque burlesque. This never failed to cause hysterical laughter from anyone who had seen, but not taken part in the profane rituals of the cult. For Marina to dance that dance was a public slap in the face for Zadina, High Priestess of Demina. A murmur of surprise went round the audience.

  Princess Marina had never performed the dance publically and, from the age of fifteen, had refused to take part in the observances of the Goddess. The dance represented the continuity of woman, the glorying in her own sexuality and the power it gave her over men. The dance was structurally one of the simplest in steps and attitudes to perform, but the simplicity was deceptive. Few could perform it well, so few risked dancing it except as a function of the fertility rites.

  Zeninan history books wrote the great Queen Skaldina had danced it at her wedding feast, dancing so beautifully, every heart present clove to her loving her loyally forever. Certainly her reign had been unusually free of internal strife, but it was so long ago no one believed the legend.

  Marina danced with the total concentration of the entranced, leaving her audience spell-bound. Impulse, instinct, intuition, call it what you will, because Marina could not decide herself what made her make that last-minute change in the program. Whether or not she danced as well as the fabled Queen Skaldina, she won over at least one enemy. Early that morning after the banquet was over, Marina would secretly have a cloaked visitor, whose support would be vital in turning the tide in Marina’s favour and help her towards her destiny.

  Major Bromarsh was bewitched like the rest of the company by Marina’s stately slow swaying steps. Marina’s hair swept like a black waterfall around her form as she spun and twirled. Her steps were now slowing to a sensual shuffle of symbolic softness. The hypnotic effect was broken for Bromarsh by Lahoda’s interruption.

  “Her Majesty’s compliments, would you please join her,” she whispered in his mind. Bromarsh looked a question back at Lahoda, but she answered.

  “I don’t know why, but best not to offend her.”

  He walked noiselessly on the balls of his feet, behind the couches to where the Queen reclined, her eyes fixed upon her daughter glistening in the stylized stances against the shadowy back-drop of her guests. Kabaneev was not around, he lay beside Vlama. Vlama’s views about Kabaneev perhaps should be evaluated in the light of their mutual affection for Marina and each other. Queen Kerina moved over slightly, inviting him to lie beside her, her thoughts echoing in his mind. The colours of her mind voice were rich and mellow.

  “Welcome Major, or do you prefer Colonel? You need not fear we do not intend to eat you.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, your majesty.”

  “But you’re wondering what we want of you, are you not?” she continued without waiting for an answer.

  “You’re not in love with my daughter that is indeed rare, but Zenina calls you,” she stated it baldly, making no pretence of not reading his mind.

  “I’m fond of Princess Marina. I owe her my life and my arm. We have been lovers. I hope we are friends. I’d like to be her friend.”

  “Marina is lucky to inspire such loyalty and friends are rarer than lovers. My daughters will need many friends when I die.”

  “I trust that won’t be for a long time, your majesty.”

  “We regret that will not be so, I’ve seen your face amongst the crowd at my death. Whatever happens, pledge your loyalty to my daughters. There is none who’ll make a better queen than Marina, but if Plavina will be guided by her, perhaps she will make a queen out of her, and Marina may avoid her destiny.”

  “I would serve Princess Marina willingly, but I am only a disgraced soldier, now just a mercenary; I can do little in the affairs of the great and powerful.”

  “You undervalue yourself Colonel. Your future is bound to my daughter’s. If you’re true to Zenina and Marina, you’ll help set in motion changes for the better in the course of the universe. Pledge me this, should Marina need you, that you’ll heed her call.”

  “More than that, if I know she needs me, I’ll come and fight for her. I can’t help thinking Marina is capable of fighting her own battles. She is superior to me in every way.”

  “You may be called to serve in another way. I know only that it’s important you are on Marina’s side.”

  “I’m confused by all this. Where I come from, everything was simple. I knew my place in life. Then I was thrown out, I have looked for answers and a place to fit in. I feel a sense of belonging here, but can’t explain that feeling. You know my thoughts so I’ll speak my mind. Men aren’t treated well here. Slavery is wicked. Men are treated as if they’re things or at best, pet animals. Yet the Zeninan people are incredible, even I see they’re special. I don’t want to be a slave, yet I don’t want to leave, as if your planet was addictive. I am amazed you seek my support for your daughter. I am so insignificant in comparison to her. You have every reason to be proud of Princess Marina. I’m afraid I haven’t had the honour to meet Princess Plavina.”

  “You are brave to speak out against slavery like my Marina. She reminds me of myself before I became queen. She shows the promise I once had, but I hadn’t the courage to follow through. I have only held Zenina in waiting for her. I feel no guilt for not bringing reforms to Zenina I was not ready for. Zenina needed that time to become ready for change. Marina has more maturity than I, she will rule well.

  I don’t expect an answer, but do we really treat men worse than women are treated on many other planets? Or are we more honest about it? We call our men slaves not wives. We don’t expect them to cook or clean, though many do. We accept the burden of child-bearing and rearing, we earn our keep as well as theirs and our dependents. All we ask in return is that they do what they like to do best, but to do it well.

  You will find answers to your questions. We know your case and we have always believed in your innocence, even before we had the proof in your person. You will never be Marina’s intellectual equal, but that isn’t given to many, not even me. Power is strange. We seek it, when we have it we find we have got not absolute power, but absolute slavery.

  I respect Marina for not seeking power as I did, but that is why Marina is destined for it. She carries the cares of the Empire on her slender shou
lders, hers may not be a happy life, but it will be a useful one. Marina will need the consolation of friends who love her. You’ll grow in intelligence at colour change. I regret I won’t live to see it. You will become a high Silver. I would have liked to see that. Watch her with me. I want to carry the memory of my beloved daughter’s dancing to my death. See how she triumphs.”

  The mother and lover lay together watching Marina’s dance and when Kerina draped her arm around him, it seemed right, a gesture of comfort, nothing more. Plavina had moved to Ga’ Mikkal’s couch and her hands moved over his body. His eyes never left the slim figure of Marina weaving magic in the minds, of all those around her. Dalzina and Zadina loathed her still, but within their hatred was a depth of respect they wished they could deny. Klivina, whose loyalty was not given, pinned her heart and hopes to Marina’s banner. Those whose fondness of Marina was never in doubt, found their feelings stronger than ever.

  Kabaneev watched his daughter sadly. This was for him a family occasion. His colour change had brought much happiness and much sorrow. His fierce love for Kerina had faded, and, like Marina’s, had died. Kerina’s death should be good news to him, perhaps even to Vlama. He was fond of Vlama but nothing stronger.

  “If I were free to leave Zenina, I would travel the universe; only one thing mars my dream. My beloved children, until they are safely settled, how can I leave? I love them all. My son, Divak is a sad disappointment to me. How I wish my son would father sons of his own. He carries the resistant gene like me. He is capable. but his inclination is otherwise. Plavina, such a pretty child, she is so bright but lazy. She yearns for power she isn’t fit to wield. My youngest and best child, Marina, she has all the virtues I wished for in a son, but she is flawed. Marina’s desire to avoid the crown and her love for her sister blinds her to Plavina’s faults. She knows Plavina is weak, but believes she’ll rule in tandem with her in the background. It won’t work. Plavina’s desire to rule isn’t just as a figure-head. Kerina has already handed over most of the reins of government to Marina several years ago, but Plavina will not listen to Marina’s advice for long.