Mars Underneath The Sceptre of Eternity

Death and Destiny

Amerik was looking at his boots, the pair was old enough to last for a month; he required a new one, but had no money to buy. With a deep sigh, he looked at his shirts, breeches and socks, all were old and ratty. He looked at the old mirror, which showed him a fade image of himself; a man of forty three years, with medium length golden hairs, hazel eyes, bushy eyebrows, broad forehead with retreating hairline, face partially covered with beards and moustaches of golden and grey hairs covering most of his facial features, only the hooked nose was visible through the jungle of beards and moustaches. He was looking older than his real age in the worn red doublet given by Superior Eyeball many years ago and his grey breeches were older than his doublet, but he could not remember who gave it to him. It was very difficult for Amerik to count his age, because the Martian years were longer than the Earth years; almost double.

If Amerik was forty three years old officially, his age would be twenty one according to the Martian calendar; because one year on Mars had twenty three months, but he was not familiar with their names. He had spent a decade on this planet, meant he was absent from the Earth for twenty years. However, he had lost the track of time. One thing, he liked about the planet, the process of aging was slower than the Earth. Though a ten year old boy, here looked like a twenty year old young adult; but a man of fifty or sixty did not look too aged. Those who were rich and wealthy, they kept their youth for longer time, with the help of a potion; but he was not fortunate enough to know about the secret.

A knocking sound at the door, distracted his attention, a woman of mid-thirties entered the room with a pile of freshly laundered clothes in hand. Her pale red hairs were tied in the back of her head, covered with a red hairnet revealing her broad wrinkled face; her long narrow face with a sharp nose, thin lips and broken chin showed no sign of a smile. A yellow coloured apron on her brown coloured full sleeve blouse and same coloured long skirt indicated that she was coming straight from the kitchen only. Amerik knew the short tempered thin woman named Emora, who worked as a cook in Eyeball's kitchen, and famous for her derogatory words to the scullions and thralls.

Amerik surprised to find Emora on his door with freshly laundered clothes; because it was not her job but the task of a thrall. "My lady Emora, what makes you come here?"

Amerik tried to reveal his smile through the jungle of beards and moustaches, Emora did not find it amazing, "Superior asked me to give you these clothes."

Again, another surprise, Oligarch Eyeball himself had ordered Emora to deliver those clothes. As far he knew his master, Eyeball hardly bothered to spend money on servants, especially for the thralls and slaves like him. Moreover, Emora was a cook and all kitchen staff of this household considered themselves superior than petty guards and other servants; Amerik was only a humble gardener.

"Wear them; he likes to speak to you. Meet him in the grand hall." Emora turned back and slapped the door on his face. The thin wooden door made a pathetic noise.

"She will break my door one day." Amerik thought. He was almost ready with his old clothes and wanted to leave for the garden for digging the soil. The lady of the house desired to plant some white roses, which was rare on the planet. White colour was considered here most auspicious and the lady liked to offer white roses to the Sea God on a special occasion.

Amerik now looked at those freshly laundered clothes and smiled, "For a long time I have not smelled of fresh clothes."

Amerik touched those clothes affectionately and thought his hand might be dirty enough to touch the fresh fabric. He went outside and tried to wash his hands, but the barrel had no more water. Servants in the house were asked to use water cautiously; they were allotted two barrels of water per day, one for drinking and another for washing. Those two barrels were not sufficient, so, most of the time Amerik wore dirty clothes. Now he found alternative of hand washing and wiped his hands on a dirty white towel. He combed his hair and tried to trim his beard. When he came inside his room, he again saw those clothes on his beds and smiled. Amerik undressed himself and wore new undergarments, white doublet, grey breeches, a pair of white socks and black, leather boots.