Nezzar

Part One: A Gift From Amon-Ra

Tall palm trees lined both sides of the wide stone road that led to the most stunning gates Daniel had ever set his gaze upon. Painted deep blue, it stretched high and imposing with perfect images of silver bulls, lions, and dragons painted across its surface. Large brass doors remained open as the people made way for the company of wagons, war animals, and Babylonian soldiers. Daniel stared through the bars, taking in the sparkling surface of the river. It flowed beneath the stone bridge that connected the main road to the entrance of the gates and stretched on to the left and right.

The commander, riding upon a dark horse, suddenly clanged his sheathed sword against the iron bars of the wagon, grinning when the boys flinched and drew back. "Better bring luck upon me, boys. When I present you before my king, may he deem you all worthy? Eh?"

Unable to speak, Daniel merely nodded.

"You all appear well-fed, no?" he frowned as though he were not sure. "Complete teeth and all that softness fighting boys should not possess. Eh?"

Daniel and the rest in the wagon only stared, unable to speak.

"They have lost their tongues, Ha! You can no longer speak?" The commander laughed. "I hope you have some sense in your heads. My king likes it when one is wise." His smile turned lupine. "We have already selected those for fighting, you see. If you do not please my king, I shall have to do to the lots of you what I did to his parents." The commander jutted his chin in Daniel's direction.

Recoiling, Daniel turned away, choosing to gaze at the passing towering structures and people who stood, gawking as the soldiers marched past with their latest spoils. After a somewhat lengthy distance, they stopped outside a large open arena.

The commander dismounted and strolled over. A thin tall man dressed in pristine cream coloured caftan joined him. After conversing in a strange tongue, both men turned to face them. The tall one yelled to someone without taking his eyes off the wagon. Soon a boy of about twelve appeared with a wooden push trolly in tow. Upon it was a large iron box.

"Raman here is one of the king's Men of Numbers. Once your wagon is open, each of you will step out, walk over to the baths," he nodded to his left. One glance and Daniel spied a number of boys being observed as they washed their bodies quickly. "You will wear whatever is given to you. Once your hair has been oiled and combed, Raman will lead you to the lines. There you will stand straight like a Noble that you are, remain quiet until you are asked a direct question. If the king for some reason detests your appearance or countenance, you shall be led there." Another sharp chin movement. Daniel did not look this time. "I will kill you with my own blade not because the king says so but because I have no interest in selling what my king has spat upon."

Someone sniffed beside Daniel.

"Are you crying, boy?" the commander walked past Daniel as he unsheathed his sword in one smooth move. From the corners of his eyes, Daniel saw the blade glint under the light of the early morning sun. The commander used the tip of the weapon to lift the boy's head. "The time for tears has since passed. Stop your weeping or I shall make your neck cry tears of blood."

Turning his eyes away, Daniel detached himself from all that happened around him. He did not know if the commander made good his threat. He barely noticed it when he was led away by the tall man called Raman. The frigid water that splashed against his naked body and the sharp smell of ghar soap wasn't enough to wake him up.

Finally, he stood in line with the others. Bathed, hair combed and oiled, attired in damask robe and silken loose pants. As the soldiers also fell into clean lines behind and as a dais of great splendour was set up some distance before the large gathering, Daniel only blinked now and then, taking in the required amount of air and breathing an equal amount out.