The Revolution
Aljandrr
turned up the lamp and found a man straddling him in bed, holding a knife.
“Hello,”
he said, forcing his mind to alertness. “Can I help you?”
“The
revolution is here, my prince,” the man whispered and leaned forward into
Aljandrr’s face. “And I know who you are.”
He
moved the knife through Aljandrr’s thick hair, parting it and grazing his
scalp.
“You
have the royal tattoo, sire” he said.
He
spit into Aljandrr’s eye.
“Your
time has come. For the revolution!” He screamed and brought the knife down.
Aljandrr
bolted up, throwing the man off the bed. He leapt to the bedside and kicked the
man in the crotch several times. The man shrieked and dropped the knife.
Aljandrr grabbed the knife and stabbed the man’s heart. For seconds the
assailant gurgled and choked on blood, and then his eyes rolled back. Aljandrr
stood and stared at the body. Then he heard the crashing and screaming from the
brothel’s floors below. Cursing his heavy sleeping, he bounded to the bedroom
door; slamming it shut and praying nobody heard the fight.
The
revolution. The talks and rallies in the city center and at the docks for the
past several months actually led to something. The Communalists cried for a
change. Cried for an end to what they deemed to be mistreatment from the
royalty and aristocracy. They swore for a bloody and fiery end to the status
quo. And the throne waved away the concern. Nobody took it seriously. But now
it was happening.
Aljandrr
ran to the window. A cry began to leave his lips, but he clasped a hand over
his mouth. Outside was fire. There were bodies on the street. A crowd gathered
in front of the brothel; mostly scared women clutching children and confused
men deciding whether or not to join the mob tearing the building apart. The
floor vibrated as the activity continued through the floors below. Aljandrr’s
mind raced. No thoughts fully formed and he continued to stare out the window,
his hand wetting with his breath. The door slammed open.
“Brother!
You are free! The revolution is here and you are no longer a slave to your
whoredom,” a woman shouted to him and then jumped back out of the room.
Aljandrr
glanced at the body behind his bed. Thanking the gods the woman hadn’t seen it,
he bundled it up in blankets and shoved it beneath the bed. He dressed and ran
outside.
“Dear
lords,” he said as he saw the condition of the building.
The
doors were torn off and burning in the street. All windows were smashed, and
fires were lit on the bottom floors. Companions were standing together, some
dressed, some naked, and some bundled in their bedspreads. Some were crying.
Some were shocked. Too many cheered and encouraged the destruction. A shrill
scream of terror echoed from the building. Lady Antebi, the brothel mother, was
dragged by her hair into the street.
“We’ve
found her,” howled a man grasping her head. “She tried to hide, but the fires
choked her out!”
He
lifted her up against a wall, and two more men grabbed her arms and held her to
the bricks. Aljandrr wanted to run and defend her. The woman had been good to
him. She had been good to all her house children. She had been good.
“This
noble has been anything but! She has enslaved men and women of our city to a
life of sleaze and contempt. She taught them it was right to give their bodies
to the pleasures of others,” the lead aggressor continued to shout. “Her
quarter of the city has been one of perversion. She collects profit from
pawning people!”
Lady
Antebi cried and screamed for help. She fought the men holding her arms. More
revolutionaries jumped in and held her still. The chief walked up to her,
grabbed her hair and shoved her head up. He slid a blade against her exposed
neck. Lady Antebi’s cries silenced and her eyes faded with remorse as her
nightclothes sponged red. Aljandrr balled his fists to keep from reacting. He
wanted to murder every revolutionary there, but instead bit his lip and shook.
The revolutionaries let go of Lady Antebi’s body and let it fall onto the
concrete. A pool of blood poured from under her.
“All
you who were caught in her disgusting claws are now free! Join us as we find
the next noble! The revolution continues,” the chief called and stepped off
down the street.
“You’re
monsters! You’re all monsters,” a companion screeched.
Aljandrr
sprinted over to her, and slammed a hand over her mouth. Those encouraging the
horrendous acts glared at them. Some stepped toward them. Aljandrr shushed the
woman.
“Be
quiet or you’ll be next,” he whispered into her ear.
“She’s
a supporter! She must be killed,” some called out then.
“No!
She’s merely shocked by the violence. She’s merely reacting,” Aljandrr called
back. “I know her and I will calm her! But go with our leader, brothers and
sisters! The revolution continues!”
The
crowd smiled like devils at his words, thrust their hands up and yowled into
the night, and ran to catch up with the rest of the mob. When they were far
away enough, Aljandrr turned to the woman and those who stayed.
“Go
to your families. Wait this out,” he said.
“But
we can’t just let this happen! We have to do something,” a male companion said.
“There’s
nothing we can do,” Aljandrr hissed. “We are outnumbered. We are in danger. Go
to your homes, and keep your loved ones safe.”
They
hesitated. Their anger filled the air with and furious vapor.
“Now!”
They
parted and ran to their homes. Aljandrr wished gods’ blessings on them. He then
thought of his loved ones. Where was his husband, Ijordi? Where was his friend
Pori and his family? As if summoned by his thoughts, Ijordi was running down
the street to him. Aljandrr ran up and clasped on to him. He let some tears
fall and some wails escape him.
“You’re
scared. I know,” Ijordi said and ran his hands through Aljandrr’s hair and
rubbed his back. “It’ll be ok. You’ll be ok.”
Aljandrr
pulled back and looked into Ijordi’s face. “How would you know? What’s keeping
me from being next?”
“Nobody
knows who you are still. You’ll be fine. Go home and wait for me there.”
“Where
are you going?”
“I’m
joining in.”
“Ijordi,
no. Please, no.”
“The
revolution continues, Aljandrr. I will be part of it!”
Aljandrr
let go of him and stepped back. He fought the impulse to smack Ijordi right
there. To pummel him. But he remembered the words he gave the companions. He
calmed himself and spoke in low tones.
“If
you must, then go. I’ll be at home,” he said. “But…”
Ijordi
turned to run, and halted.
“What?”
“Nothing.
Just go.”
Ijordi
ran off. Aljandrr kept his thoughts controlled. Now he knew where Ijordi was,
but where was Pori? A new vicious thought then mangled his mind. The royalty.
His family. He looked toward the Manor, but buildings and trees blocked the
view. An ominous orange glow shined into the sky above. Aljandrr’s stomach
tightened.
“Of
course,” he said.
He
needed a better view, and ran to the Crest Tree. He could see the entire city
if he climbed to the highest branches. He grabbed the rope ladders and scurried
up to the canopy. He was greeted by fire. Half the city burned; boats in the
marina, the villas in the hills. The Manor. The royal seat was surrounded in
huge, high flames. Most of it lay in embers.
“Of
course,” Aljandrr said again. “That would have been the first place.”
He
was alone and let himself cry. He let himself shake. He let his thoughts
careen. He didn’t know what to do. His family would all be dead by now. He may
have abdicated and abandoned them, but he still wretched when he thought of his
parents and siblings, no doubt in the same condition as Lady Antebi. He
clutched to the thin veil of security in his secrecy. He had done well to keep
his identity hidden. But how long would that last? The man who attacked him
knew, didn’t he? He heard the rope ladder bang against the tree as someone else
climbed up. Pori.
“Aljandrr!
What are you doing?”
“They’re
all dead.”
“Yes,
probably. Maybe. Come on,” Pori said. “We have to hurry. We’re going to grab a
boat and sail into the harbor. The fishermen on the water haven’t been touched
yet.”
“What?
Why?”
“You’re
not safe.”
“I
know.”
“No,
you don’t,” Pori said. “They’ve figured out who you are. They’re searching for
you.”
