Sunday, June 17, 2012
Minor
Keys No. 8
I came across a minor character towards the
end of the first book of Azimuth and
realized I could have made him the first to occupy my pen since he appears
early in the first chapter. He is Sabiya’s most loyal guard. You cannot imagine
him turning on her like Indira Ghandi’s assassin or any hit man in history who
has wormed his way into the confidence of a ruler. We first meet him in the
section below:
The door swung open, an enormous armed guard peered at him and then stood
aside to allow the Princess to enter. She was too slim to be beautiful to
Kamil’s eye and too tall for all but a royal family member. Her black skin
revealed her father’s predilection for Ethiopia. Her eyes were a glittering
blue set wide apart above the family’s long shallow nose. Her rich plump red
lips pouted at him.
Characters write themselves on to the page
and once there create a tiny vortex which has minute but inevitable effects
upon the storyline, the equivalent of the beat of a butterfly’s wing. They may
take no greater part than opening doors and hanging around like any minder but
the fact that they are there is always significjust ant. Why? Because, for example
in this case, any jeopardy that envelops Sabiya must be written to take account
of her faithful mastiff of a guard, having established his perpetual presence.
I like this fellow. It is deep seated and
probably goes back to the playground years. Big, muscular boys who can crush
you and your spirit are potent. If they are kindly then all and sundry love them
because all and sundry realize that with the flip of a psychological coin the
world could have gone dark.
He was such a boy, ragged robed and genial,
doing extremes of manual labour long before he was a man. He was often seen pulling
his plump child of a mother in a cart, shepherding his four sisters through the
market or taking on all challengers in weightlifting sheep and calves. The
Emperor Haidar saw him one day, with a sheep under each arm, laughing
uproariously in his deep baritone and marked him as a likely guard for his baby
daughter, Sabiya. He paid his mother for him and put him in his military
training camp where early attempts to bully him were met with many ringing
skulls. He could not be daunted by man or weapon and was soon installed on a pallet
in a tiny chamber close to the little girl. He was her favourite after her doll
Walidah, doubling as crawling mount and giant protector. As Kamil discovered,
even as a precocious girl, Princess Sabiya had a maturity about sexual needs
and she arranged a search party to bring her loyal defender the perfect young woman
from a village on the lap of the sacred mountain. This robust creature was
given a house near the outer palace walls and he was allowed to visit her when
Sabiya was safe in her father’s company. Many children ensued, fast upon another.
In spite of his repetitive opening and
closing of doors and general baleful, roving gaze for anything untoward in the
vicinity of the Princess he remained a constant feature in her life, so much so
he often seemed to disappear from view, despite his enormous frame. But even
this consistency, as predictable as sun and moon, was to fracture in the flow
of impassive Fate.
But for that you must read Azimuth.
(Azimuth by Jack Sanger also in Kindle
books at Amazon)
All works by this author at www.chronometerpublications.me
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