Cursed By The Gods Book 1 and 2

Chapter 58

He dreaded the moments when he woke up to prepare for the council room meetings. As he slipped his royal robe on he couldn’t shake the feeling that today’s meeting would be different, it was a wariness by the daemon in him that gave him that knowledge. He looked at himself, ran a finger over the vein that thumped inhumanly slow in his wrist, the place where daemon blood mixed with his own human blood flowed and knew. The dark clouds around his head hung lower today but he squared his shoulders and opened the door of his chambers. He walked down the hallway with raised chin, an arrogance that he would never feel as long as he was half daemon. The soldiers in the corridors bowed at his approach, he raised his hand and passed by them to the council room.

There his heart dropped, his suspicions confirmed. This would not be like the previous ones, if not for the feeling he had in his guts and his bones then the faces of the nobles gathered around the room confirmed it. They were grim faces with tight-lipped expressions, none of them was sitting or even enjoying the feast the servants had laid before them. The room bore no servants either.

His heart sank further as he recognized the look on Lady Amelia’s face, she was always known to smile and gossip but today she too looked grim and eyed him with distaste. They bowed like they were supposed to but when he took his seat they refused to seat. He sighed inwardly.

“What news has brought this look on your faces?”

There was no hesitation. “We have brought news time and again of the attack in our villages, we have stationed guards like you asked but two days ago even those guards were killed, their throats slit in the dead of the night and an entire village burnt down while we slept.” It was Aprolos speaking. “We have visited the priests for answers and our quest for answers has come back to you.”

Octavius frowned at the unexpected news. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your Majesty, we have all kept quiet watching the kingdom your father and kings before him struggled to build, since you ascended the throne we have not had anything but misfortune…”

“Aprolos!” Octavius raged. Despite the crowded room his voice boomed loudly against the walls. He was tired, he was weak. He was sick of having to put on a kingly happy front for his people, sick of being groped and dragged into the bed of a goddess at night, sick of seeing a daughter whose birth was a curse to him, he just wanted to end it all. Ashterah in her cunny way had made sure killing himself would be an impossible feat, he slit his wrists at night only to wake up the following day to find them healed with not even a single scar, his thirst for blood was only satisfied when he cowered and reduced himself to level of an animal before Ashterah and he was tired of it. He sought to calm himself by taking deep breaths, when he was sure he had restored order to his emotions he sat back. “If I knew the problem of the kingdom had escalated to this I would have done something. I am no weak king! I won my first battle at age 18.”

The court grudgingly agreed but that was years ago and they needed their king to make decisions to put an end to the killings of their people.

“Nevertheless, Your Highness,” Aprolos continued. “We have met with the priests and they have pointed accusing fingers at you as the reason for the problems.”

Until now Octavius did not notice the small priest standing with them until he came forward in his dark red cloak with hands crossed together. He bowed low in front of Octavius.

“And you have consulted with the gods?” Octavius asked.

“Yes Your Majesty,” the man replied.

“What did they say?”

“That you must confess in the temple of Robos and make sacrifices. Your sins, Highness, has caused the sorrows of our kingdom.”

Octavius sat back with a calm he didn’t feel. It was time the people knew that the people they bowed was slave to Ashterah. To be chosen by a god as a mate or partner was an honorable thing but to be marked in secret for pleasures only was detestable. He exhaled slowly, it was a difficult thing to do but if it would free him of Ashterah’s clutches he was ready.

He stood from his throne and dropped the robe from his body.

“I will.”

A ripple of gasp went throughout the nobles. They looked at one another with questioning gazes.

“But, Highness, what have you done that you want to confess to?” Amelia asked.

“When we get to the temple I will speak.”

The short priest bowed and let Octavius lead the way. “Only the members of the king’s court are allowed to witness this, no member of the court will repeat anything that happens today to any soldier or commoner,” he said as he followed Octavius out of the door. Downstairs, Octavius gave commands for horses to be prepared for riding, the nobles who had come with their own mounts asked for them. Octavius and the priest went ahead of the people and rode towards the temple of Robos, as they passed the people bowed and hailed, some shouted pleas to stop the killings at the top of their voices. Sheltered in his palace, confined in his own thoughts, he never fully understood what misery the people we going through as a result of the banditry but as he passed the streets and listened to the plea of the people he realized he had indeed failed in protecting the lives of his people. He had neglected his people for years while burying himself in misery.

They came to the temple with its beautiful, strong columns, gold was not spared in the building of the temple of Robos so the building shone under the sun. Outside temple prostitutes called out to men and women and started to approach his horse when some priests came out and chased them off.

The interior of the temple was spacious, gold covered everything from the altars to the bowls for serving and washing to the steps leading up to the Robos statue. The statue itself was 10 feet tall, covering almost half the floor of the main altar. The statue was Robos standing with his face set in a fierce look, his mouth was open as if proclaiming judgment or demanding something, his huge left muscular arm was stretched out and the arm ended with his fingers gripping a bronze scepter that had his symbol of lightening at the top, gold curls lay atop the huge head from which equally gold eyes glared from.

The priest approached the statue and knelt before, everyone else knelt before the statue. At the command of the eldest priest the door to the temple was shut and a young temple hand came to collect Octavius’s tunic leaving him in his loincloths. It was a known ritual for any offender to be stripped of his clothes as he confessed his sins. The eldest priest brought a bowl from which he took water which he washed Octavius’ head, mouth and hands.

“Let every word you speak be true and may the gods have mercy on you and the kingdom.”

“So shall it be,” the court echoed.

“You may speak, Highness.”

Octavius knelt there before them all in his undergarment wishing very much to pull his hair aside and show them where Ashterah had marked him, shame kept him still but sheer determination made him open his mouth to speak.

“I have been slave to the goddess of war for over a score of years now.”

No sooner had the court caught their breaths in shock did a mighty wind invade the temple space knocking bowls off pedestals and picking the priests off their feet and knocking them against the wall. The wind picked up blinding everyone and when it cleared Robos stood in their midst. His white hair was wild around his solid face and while he was almost ageless his body stood strong with muscles at his side, a white tunic hung loosely from his body stopping at mid-thigh exposing equally muscular thighs. On his face was wrath and he showed that wrath by rearing back to hit Octavius hard across the face, it was so hard Octavius fell against the floor almost the same time a tooth flew out of his mouth.

“How dare you speak such lies against Ashterah?!” Robos raged.

“It’s true,” Octavius said weakly.

Robos sent a blast that hit him hard against the wall cracking his ribs and squeezing the breath out of his lungs. As he struggled to stand he felt, rather than saw Ashterah standing at the corner of the temple out of sight and only as a mirage. She had her hands against her mouth and was shaking her head vigorously. He laughed against his pain at the situation he was in, even now she could not publicly lay claim on him and lift his misery.

“Seize that fool and beat him till he bleeds. I want his blood on my altar as a sacrifice for his sins.”

The priests hesitated at Robos command until he pulled one of them close and snapped his neck. They came running to pick Octavius up and hastily tied him against the altar, another priest ran to get the three-mouthed whip from an inner room and handed it over to another who stood by Octavius to deliver the blows on his n***d back. As the pain ripped through his body Octavius noticed the distressed expressions on the faces of the nobles, Robos had manifested a seat to watch with a smug smile while Ashterah remained as she was at the corner with her hands over her mouth and tears running down her cheeks. He laughed despite the pain at the misery that was his life.