My gratitude, My death

THE GREAT CROWD

    “Drink some of the olive oil before you speak to all the people. Your words will move them into action. They will be inflamed with anger and their hearts, ready to obey. They will feel, right in their hearts, their ancestral pains and many will be moved to tears. They will gnash their teeth and you will see it with your own eyes.” King Benedict turned to the other kings at his back. He gave King Jeffrey the jug and he faced the sorcerers again.

   “Thank you. Words alone cannot express our gratitude. Thank you.”

   “You may go,” said the sorcerer.

The kings turned. As they were about to leave, the sorcerer at the left stepped forward with one foot and asked.

    "Apart from the fall of Portsmouth, what do you kings personally want?"

The kings turned and looked at themselves. The Sorcerer gave them time to deliberate and they turned to themselves and discuss in a low tone. Then King Benedict smiled, the other kings nodded. The kings faced the Sorcerer, who was still waiting for them. The other kings were some inches behind King Benedict.

   "I want the Queen of Portsmouth to be third my wife." Said, King Benedict.

   "I want to struggle King Eric with my hands" King Simeon added. The other kings could not wait to say their intention one after the other. They rushed it

    "I want our lands back."

    "I want to kill the heir to Portsmouth throne just the way he killed my brother."

    "I want ..."

    "Enough," said the sorcerer. “Your wish will be granted. We derive joy from anguish and revenge. We are the avengers, the ones leading you to your happiness. You may go."

The kings walked out of the cave silently. Yards away from the cave, they stood again and drew their heads together. King Benedict demonstrated with his hands and lowered his voice. They were planning on how to assemble their people.

     Seven days later, the five kings were able to gather the people. It was a mandatory gathering. Men, women, boys, girls, and the little ones were in attendance. In their hands, sticks of fire. They gathered themselves around the hill of Ai, in the east land of Southampton. This land was the graveyards of offspring of demons and no one dwells there. This was the very place the sorcerers asked them to gather. As the day was growing darker, more persons were walking towards the crowd. They formed a big tight circle around the hill. At that time, the kings have not arrived. But men from their castles were already there waiting for them. At midnight, the five kings arrived in a mighty black chariot. The chariot horses were huge. The pounding of their feet on the ground caused great dust and their neighing sound made the crowd turn their heads. Hundreds of armed soldiers on horses followed them. The four kings except King Benedict came out of the chariot which was parked some distance from the crowd. King Benedict took the jug of olive oil and raised it to his eyes. He looked through it before taking a mouth full of it. The oil sweetened his tongue and made some sound in his stomach and he used his right hand to rub it. He came down and walked into the crowd, the crowd gave way and he stood in their view. His presence silenced all forms of communication. Hundreds upon hundreds of eyes were on him, and he moved his face as he looked at the crowd from one end to the other.

     “History was not written for tales alone. They were written to know where we came from and where we are going. Today, each one of us had made history. You have come out here this hour in solidarity with what is right. In your veins, the blood of your ancestors is, flowing and it is keeping you alive. Remember, their lives were exchanged for your existence. I have gone beyond the dotted lines of the flesh. I have confronted the merchant of the underworld. In their palms, I read the words of our forefathers. On their sleeping beds, thorns of pains have always kept them awake. Every thought of theirs were songs of lamentation in the hands of Portsmouth. We must come together and bring that,” he pointed towards Portsmouth, “famous Portsmouth kingdom to the dust. Then redress the minds of our past parents through our actions. This night, we must show to our invisible parents that we are ready for the demolition of Portsmouth. May it be said that, in your hands, Portsmouth fell. We cannot do this alone with our physical strength. Even if we gather, then multiple ourselves, including our wives and children against Portsmouth, it will not be enough. So we sought the occult powers of those who could control the wind and the sky. They assured us that our ancient fathers will show us a sign when we gather to turn the hands of history in our favor. Take the sand under your feet, my dear brothers and sisters. Raise it as a sign for your support and willingness to stand for those who came before you.” Very many bent down, both young and old. They packed the sand under their feet. And the king continued.

     “Raise it to the sky and the ones we are fighting for will send down the rain to show their presence.”

In a few seconds, the sky rumbled and the cloud hid the faces of the stars and the moon. The whole place became darker and the crowd looked in amazement. The lightning struck from the east, then west, and there came dropping of rain.

     “Yes,” King Benedict shouted and everyone, including the other kings, opened their mouths.

     “I told you, they have heard our prayers.” Few who did not bend down to pack some sand did theirs and also raised their hands. The intensity of the rain increased and quenched some fire sticks in their hands. The falling rain refreshed their heart in sorrow and they beat their fresh in anger. The men gnashed their teeth and the women and children started crying.

     “Weep not my beloved ones, I can feel your pains. This night, you have been given the mandate to stand against Portsmouth and bring it down.” There came a fearful and resounding thunder, followed by a giant flash of lightning and the crowd was apprehensive. The children hid their faces against their mother's body and the men looked up, wondering. King Benedict took a fire stick and raised it with his right hand and shouted again, putting confidence in their hearts in the place of fear.

    “Do not marvel at these things. These are signs of your forefathers to convince you they are with you all day long. They have heard our prayers. Just as river Hampshire linked our lands, so the pains for those before us have held us as brothers. That river saw their tears, their agony, and drunk their blood to its brim. At the end of this sacred meeting, you must go therefore to that river and collect a hand full of its water. On your way home, it will turn to the blood of our departed ancestors. No matter how strong Portsmouth is, our distressed forefathers are with us. You are not alone, beside you are the shadows of your parents. They are ready to help you when your physical strength is about to fail you.”

     “We will do whatever you say.” The crowd shouted. What they have seen and heard inspirited them. Despite they were differences in culture, status, and tribes. Vengeance was the web that united them.

King Benedict ordered them to be on a line and he led the way.

     “We are going straight to river Hampshire. To feel the cold blood of our forefathers. In helplessness, they were murdered. No pity, no empathy. The same way we are marching to this river, that will be the same way we will march to Portsmouth when the time is ripe.” River Hampshire was a kilometer away. On their way, the rain finally stopped dropping, but the whole place was dark except the sticks of fire in their hands. They pounded the ground with anger and spoke no words to one another. This night, everyone took a hand full of water from the river. On their way home, the water turned to cold blood. They saw it and felt the coldness. It was a sorrowful night and they wept till dawn.