Lions of Men

Chapter 6

Much to Shamarah's frustration, she and her party were forced to wait another fifteen minutes or so before they were permitted to enter the council hearing chambers.

"This is ridiculous, Banetalyes," she protested. "What's taking so long?"

"I don't know, your Majesty," Banetalyes said seemingly frustrated as well. "Nearly the space of three hours have passed since your arrival. I gather that Councilman Wynlow is waiting for the other council members."

"Banetalyes my men and family are starving."

"I wish I could do more, your Highness, but I have my orders."

Shamarah didn't know if it was her nagging hunger pains or her pride driving her to pester Banetalyes. Here she was, the head of the Royal Council back from the dead, as many had put it, and she was asked to wait to enter the royal council hearing chambers.

Whatever it was she decided to leave the commander be. She could tell he was a decent man. Or was he? Almost an hour ago he nearly beat a man to death for wanting to save his child. Something was different about this city and in her vulnerable state, she didn't want to make enemies and possibly endanger her children.

Finally, the double doors to the hearing chambers opened. The guards beckoned them in, but Shamarah's men were forced to surrender their weapons. Baleerh, of course initially resisted, but hungry and tired as he was, the brawny man barely put up a fight.

On both sides of the room, pillars separated six twelve-foot tall marble statues of the twelve principal Greek gods. Scribes were written above each figure, heralding their exploits and a scarlet velvet rope separated them from viewers. At the base of each statue were tables with precious and rare relics. Double balconies overlooked both sides of the hearing chambers, and grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

The Royal Guard and Commander Banetalyes led the Levanites down the center aisle of rows of chairs to the front. Seven large thrones made of pure marble sat high up on a platform of about seven steps. A table sat on either side of each throne, and encrusted jeweled goblets sat atop them.

Elders dressed in luxurious night robes occupied two of the thrones, and a third stood facing them. The third man flailed his arms and spoke passionately to his compatriots. One of the elders dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and he wiped his bald head with a cloth. Sure enough, Meryolis Cheros was voted to the high council. The portly fellow reached for his cup but stopped in his tracks when he saw Shamarah. He cleared his throat and nodded to indicate to the others her arrival.

The third man that faced them turned and gaped at Shamarah as if he had seen a ghost. He smiled, spread his arms open and clasped his hands together, shaking his head, as if in disbelief. He then pulled up the skirt of his decorated scarlet colored robe and made his way down the steps.

"Ah," he said. "So for once, rumors turn out to be more than just rumors. Long lives the queen of Levanorah. Or shall I say the Golden Queen."

Shamarah raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She approached the platform and gazed at the elders. Theocales Wynlow, the tall, thin man that stood before her, was a native of Levanorah and a former adviser to Rashnee. The two were the best of friends when she was first betrothed to Rashnee. But the moment she took her first step into political power, he turned on her like a snake. He lectured her for stopping in the streets of Levanorah to settle quarrels among commoners.

He laughed when he learned that she was in charge over civil disputes in the kingdom. He railed against her openly when she became the 'Ambassador of Peace' to the United Kingdoms during their first war with the Nords, seventeen years ago and discredited her continually when she became the head of the Royal Council. And now here he was, mocking her with platitudes of hope.