The Emperor’s Tower

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said — “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . .  Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Emperor’s Tower

The Grand Cabinet took up most of the Imperial Room in the White Palace. Emperor the Great Ozymandias’s forefather Emperor Nero Ozymandias, having heard that walls had ears, had had this cabinet built of the sturdiest mahogany to ensure that his private, secret meetings would not be overheard. It was the largest and most ornate cabinet in all the world, carved with nightmarish gargoyles to scare off even the bravest of eavesdroppers.

This Grand Cabinet, which over time had matured to a polished black, was large enough to hold fifteen people. It was the perfect size for the assembly of the emperor and his fifteen councilors. What? But fifteen plus the emperor make sixteen, you say. True. However, there were rarely more than fourteen, the reason being that Emperor the Great Ozymandias could, with the swipe of his imperial finger, strike off a councilor when he was dissatisfied, and he was often dissatisfied. He necessarily had high expectations: he was adored by his subjects because he was the greatest of all emperors who ruled the greatest of all empires, and he intended to keep it that way.

To this end, the emperor met every week with his councilors in the Grand Cabinet. In these cabinet meetings, as they were called, he would inquire about the state of affairs in his empire in order to determine in which way his empire was the greatest. The councilors filed in and sat on the cabinet shelves in order of seniority with the most recent councilor climbing up to the highest and therefore furthest shelf from the emperor.

For quite a long while, the Councilor of Information had held the seat closest to Emperor the Great Ozymandias. This councilor’s stroke of luck (or some might say cunning) had to do with one simple sentence: “Great is being the Greatest Number One.” It had become the single most successful sentence in the history of the empire. It encouraged the children to compete not only to be good, but to be better than the others, to be the best. It encouraged workers not only to work hard, but to work harder than the others, to work the hardest. And it encouraged soldiers not only to fight skillfully, but to fight more skillfully than the others, to be the most skillful ever.

Now in the days leading up to the cabinet meeting, each councilor spent his waking hours scouring his Realm of Responsibility for facts that would make the Greatest Number One for that week. The Councilor of Foreign Affairs wrote more letters to more Foreign Bodies than he had ever written before. The Councilor of the Kingdoms redrew boundaries to favor the kings most favored by the emperor. The councilor of Public Works measured and remeasured the progress of the construction of the Tower of Ego (in honor of our emperor) to make sure that its proportionate increase was higher than the week before, and the Councilor of Finance found a way to grow the money in the royal coffers.

This week, as every week, Emperor the Great Ozymandias ambled past the line of councilors awaiting him outside the Grand Cabinet. One councilor was missing, of course. The Councilor of the Armoire (not to be confused with the Armory) had been struck off by the swipe of our emperor’s finger the week before. His head had rolled because he’d been unfortunate enough to order the wrong red for our emperor’s royal robe.

It might take a while to fill that position since it was well known that, since the Great Ozymandias took great pride in how he looked, he had little tolerance for mistakes in his wardrobe and had already struck off twelve well-qualified councilors. For this reason, he still wore his old royal red robe as he sank into his royal red chair. He scrutinized each councilor entering the cabinet with his usual half-smile which expressed either contempt or ridicule or both, as the distinction between the two was often blurred in our emperor’s attitude towards his subjects. It kept them on their toes.

As the last councilor climbed the ladder to the furthest seat, all watched. The Councilor of Provisions was not only the youngest and newest councilor but also a female councilor, the first ever in the history of the cabinet. She therefore, naturally, attracted much attention even though she herself was modest in both dress and manner. As she reached the top rung, her foot slipped and for a moment she looked as though she would fall, but she found a foothold quickly and slipped into her place.

‘Thank you, CoP. That was a thrilling distraction,” the emperor remarked. CoP bowed her head as a quiet chuckle passed through the cabinet. The session had started and so acronyms were in use, with the Councilor of Provisions being referred to as CoP.  Apart from Emperor the Great Ozymandias, who was affectionately referred to as Ego, of course, by all his subjects but only his subjects (his full title used in more formal occasions), the councilors were referred to by their full titles except amongst each other and by Ego who could call them whatever he wished whenever he wished.

Ego now nodded to CoPWo (Councilor for Public Works) who stood to give his report. The Tower of Ego had doubled in height, the two colossal legs were finished as were the staircases inside them and the magnificent torso had begun to be erected. The sculptor awaited Ego’s instruction on the modelling of the head. Pleased, Ego went on question his councilors in no particular order until he reached CoP. She was busy shuffling her scrolls and Ego was about to call on her when an abrupt cough caught his attention.

‘Did I hear a cough?’ he asked.

On hearing his name, CoF jumped to his feet. ‘In this week’s financial report, most honored Ego, I wish to present to you a new tax, the greatest tax.’

‘Taxes are never popular, CoF.’

‘No, they aren’t but they do add to the empire’s wealth and help to pay—’

‘Alright.’ Ego waved his plump hand as if to bat away a pesky fly. ‘What is this tax?’

‘A tribute tax, most esteemed Ego. Every subject dies, eventually. And when one does, the family will pay a final parting gift on behalf of the deceased as a tribute to yourself, Ego. The amount of the tribute will correspond with the age of the deceased so that young children will pay very little while the elderly, who are well respected and have lived good long lives under your care, will pay more.’

CoI (Councilor of Information) raised his hand and tapped his head, a sign he wished to speak. Ego nodded to him.

‘I humbly agree with our most revered Ego, that taxes are unpopular. Might you decide to call it a tribute gift instead? It could be the Greatest Number One gift in the name of the dead.’

Ego’s half-smile signaled his cynical pleasure.

Following tradition, Ego and his councilors proceeded to the Grand Balcony which overlooked Red Square. (As often happens, the throne had been contested. The square was named in honor of those who had fought for Ego to win it.) Several hundred subjects waited expectantly spread out around the People’s Well in Red Square for Emperor the Great Ozymandias to give his weekly message. Applause greeted Ego sounding like a shower of pebbles against glass. He raised his arms and all grew quiet to hear his proclamation:

“Once more I have found a new way in which our empire surpasses all others. Great means being the Greatest Number One. Ozymandias is the Greatest Number One in Grave Gifts.’

The crowd cheered. Although they had no idea what grave gifts were, it didn’t matter. Their beloved Ego could be trusted.

—

As usual, the meal spread out on the ornate table in CoP’s private chambers was sumptuous. Roast mutton, peppery quail egg stew, songbird pie, lard crisps, mango chutney and various other delicacies. CoP picked up a piece of bread but could not eat. Her relief at not having had to give a report at the last cabinet meeting had been short-lived. Out beyond the palace gardens thousands of people were starving because of the drought, and the blight of caterpillars, and a rat infestation eating the stores of food.

Even if her Realm of Responsibility was to make sure that all were provided for, she knew that this should have no bearing on her privilege as councilor of having this fine meal. Her main concern was and would always be the well-being of Emperor the Great Ozymandias and there were still enough provisions to feed all of the palace. However, being the youngest and newest councilor, not to mention a female, meant her position was precarious. In fact, the only reason she had been considered was because her uncle CoSH (Councilor of Sanitation and Health) had put her forward after no one with qualifications or expertise could be found to fill the position given the failing of the crops. She had agreed simply because she doubted Emperor the Great Ozymandias would ever allow a female on the council. How wrong she had been.

The one piece of advice her uncle CoSH had given her was ‘Remember what you were taught as a child. Life is all about winning. Think like that and you’ll do well in the Grand Cabinet.’ But right now, CoP was losing. She had spent all week trying to find a way to lower the numbers of people starving to death without success. Measures like building new irrigation channels and exterminating the pests came too late and sharing White Palace stores with the masses was unthinkable. At tomorrow’s cabinet meeting, she faced being beheaded by Ego’s finger leaving behind an impossible situation.

Starvation was sweeping through the poor masses, especially children, but soon the workers would run out of food except for whatever animals they kept and if they ate these the CoHo (Councilor of Horses and other animals) would complain and so would the Palace which relied on meaty meals.  If the workers died, the Tower of Ego’s construction would slow and the number of palace servants would decline and this would definitely displease the emperor. Like a contagion, the responsibilities of one councilor after another would be affected. What had begun with a drought could end up beheading the entire council.

—

On this particularly hot day, with no windows, not even vents, the Grand Cabinet was an airless oven. CoP’s mind felt as limp as her clothes already wet through with perspiration when Ego’s eyes settled on her. ‘I don’t recall hearing your report last week. Why don’t we start with you? What will make us great this week?’

CoP rose wearily to her feet. From her height, it seemed the cabinet was swaying slowly like the huge bell that announced a ceremonial beheading. Ego waited, his hand poised, finger up. ‘More deaths,’ the words spilled out of her mouth before her sluggish brain could pull them back.

‘Splendid. Just in time for our Grave Gifts.’ His tone oozed with sarcasm. She wondered when his finger would strike her down. ‘Who is dying? Why? How many?’

With no clever answer, she went with the truth. ‘The poor, most esteemed Ego, more than ten thousand in the empire, from lack of food.’

‘That many – and not even a war in sight.’

‘The largest human sacrifice in a time of peace,’ she mumbled, resigning herself to her fate. ‘But of course, most favored Ego, the provisions for the White Palace are not affected. There is plenty of food for your Excellency.’ Not that this would save her.

‘Ten thousand in one week. Is this really the single largest human sacrifice in peacetime, CoRP?’

Upon hearing his name, the old Councilor for Rights and Privileges blinked as if confused and staggered to his feet. ‘Yes, a new privilege for the most excellent Emperor the Great Ozymandias. Ah, the privilege of – ‘

The privilege with which he had hoped to honor Ego was never uttered as the emperor’s finger sliced the air like the hiss of a snake. Deathly pale, the old man, moments ago known as CoRP, sank to his seat. Letting his mind drift after a sleep-troubled night had been but a small mistake, but it had cost him his life. High above on the top shelf, CoP stared at the emperor unable to believe what she’d seen. Her head still reeled as he pronounced: ‘Great means being the Greatest Number One in voluntary sacrifices for Emperor the Great Ozymandias during peacetime.’

The cheer that arose echoed up to CoP as if from the far end of a very long tunnel.

At the following cabinet meeting, Ego suspended all rights (but not privileges) until a new CoRP could be appointed. He introduced a new CoArm who would certainly not err in choosing the right red for the royal robe. He also asked CoCer to plan an Opening Ceremony for the Tower of Ego which was proceeding at a such a brilliant pace that the most skilled sculptor in all the land had arrived at the palace to sculpt Ego’s head. CoP had nothing to worry about; the rising death toll meant that the Grave Gifts were contributing nicely to the royal coffers. Furthermore, she’d been given the honor to perform a female favor for the emperor, something she had not enjoyed but could hardly refuse. It would lead to more recognition. Already, she had moved a shelf closer to Ego.

However, they all noticed that this week the crowd outside the White Palace had visibly diminished indicating that the subjects were not entirely pleased with something. What could it possibly be?

A week later, CoK (Councilor of Kings) had sent out invitations to every king in the empire to attend the opening ceremony. ‘Let them all eat cake,’ Ego trumpeted in a generous gesture to his subjects and ordered CoPa (Councilor of the Palace) to make the largest cake for the occasion. CoW (the Councilor of War) and CoAr announced increases in soldiers and armaments in order to expand the empire beyond its current borders and were rewarded with the Greatest Number One. But everyone could tell that the real crowning glory was the new CoArm who suggested a golden headpiece be fashioned for Ego to wear at the upcoming ceremony.

CoF was quite an experienced councilor so when he showed up in CoP’s chambers, she was surprised. Always one to wear his age well, hair groomed and nails clean, CoF seemed unusually worn. After exchanging the customary greeting ‘Long live our Ego!’ and drinking to Ego’s health and wealth, CoP held off on her curiosity as to the purpose of his visit so as not to be rude.

She had heard that his household had become quarrelsome so although she knew his children (they were her contemporaries), she did not wish to upset him by inquiring about them. Instead she commented on a safe subject: the progress of the Tower of Ego. It was going well. Already it was twice the height of the White Palace and could be seen as far as the plateau to the south and the dunes to the west and by the time it was completed would be a mighty beacon for ships sailing into harbors more than fifty leagues away.

‘It overshadows everything,’ was CoF’s response.

‘As it should.’

‘As it should. However, between its mounting costs, the expense of the new golden and bejeweled headpiece, and the increased budget for weaponry, the coffers are groaning.’

CoP waited for him to continue, perplexed that he was exposing this problem to a junior like her. To fill the awkward pause, she offered him more drink and once more they saluted Ego. He stared at the amber liquid in his cup as if at a loss for words.

In the past weeks, CoP found that if she tried to understand things from Ego’s perspective, she gained more confidence in finding a way forward that would please the mighty emperor. Hoping to encourage him to continue, she said. ‘I understand that although the number of human sacrifices is climbing, most are children. This is not helpful for the coffers as their grave gifts are low.’

CoF nodded, listening.

‘Are there other taxes? Maybe some that could be levied on the kings, especially those whom the emperor is less pleased with?’

‘Ego doesn’t like taxes and if anything, he needs to buy the kings’ loyalty not punish them.’

‘How right you are. Ego is much too wise to do such a thing. Could the weaponry be increased through the kings’ reserves? The more given, the greater the tribute?’

‘Perhaps a one-time offer but not so much as to deplete their arsenals and leave them defenseless, especially the kingdoms on the borders.’

‘Such a foolish suggestion of mine. Clearly, you have made a mistake coming for my advice,’ CoP said in exasperation.

‘You have given me food for thought. But you have not thought of your own Realm of Responsibility.’ CoF sighed, sat up straight and met her gaze with renewed stature. ‘The coffers will require higher sacrifices to be made.’ His weary solicitation had vanished behind a prickly tough skin. She realized too late that, unwittingly, she had trodden on a sore toe and would have to watch her step.

Although Ego delighted in CoF’s suggestion of a one-time armory tribute gift from each king in celebration of the Tower of Ego, the kings of the borderlands were not pleased. They formed an alliance and sent word to the emperor that they would not be attending the celebration. Their tribute gifts were negligible.

Ego flew into a rage and ordered that all trade with these kingdoms would cease, including food. ‘Let them starve and make sure their Grave Gifts are doubled,’ he added. Seeing CoW’s worried frown, CoP could well imagine that he was troubled this move might encourage rebellion, a subject best approached when Ego’s temper had calmed, if at all.

—

It was evening and CoP decided to take a stroll in the palace gardens in an attempt to break through the well-worn ruts of her thinking. Ever since CoF had suggested that the sacrifices in her Realm of Responsibility should be increased, she had been puzzling over how to do so in a manner that would not decrease Ego’s popularity which seemed to be in decline. Now there was more urgency than ever before. CoPWo was having problems on the worksite. The Tower of Ego was now so high that the scaffolding was buffeted by the wind currents. This had caused a sudden collapse of the scaffolding the day before. Nearly one hundred workers fell to their deaths further slowing the progress which was already constrained by a workforce weakened by drought-caused famine. It looked unlikely that the monument would be finished in time for the ceremony. Surely the news had set Ego’s anger aflame. A solution must be found.

Bruised purple and ruby clouds covered the sky and a cool wind ruffled the leaves in the gardens lush with constant watering. Under the trees, the peacocks were sitting down, their feathery displays at rest. A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and CoP was about to return to the palace when she saw a light flickering through the trees. Curious, she walked towards it and found that it came from a building of glass, taller than a greenhouse and not as long. Sneaking nearer, she saw it contained a huge block of stone. Was this the workshop of the famed sculptor come to carve the top of the Tower?

She heard voices and drew back behind a tree to hide. The emperor was approaching the workshop from the other side. With him were several guards and CoPWo who was extolling the praises of this sculptor and his work. As they entered the building, CoP crept to a spot where she could see what was happening inside. The rock was covered with a large cloth except for a small area where an old man with a long white beard stood on a ladder chiseling. Seeing the emperor, he immediately descended the ladder.

‘You have doubtless come to inspect my work, Great Ozymandias,’ the sculptor said.

Ego nodded and with one swift move, the sculptor pulled off the large cloth.

From where CoP stood, she could not see the sculpture but the emperor’s face stared in disbelief before he bellowed: ‘This is a most unflattering portrait. How dare you!’

Ego lifted his finger to strike but the calm voice of the sculptor interrupted him.

‘Most esteemed Ego, horror and beauty lie in the eye of the beholder. Those who plot against you will see what might be called a commanding sneer that says: Ye who think yourselves mighty, look upon me and despair! Your loyal subjects, however, will see the distinctive smile of their beloved Ozymandias.’

CoPWo quickly chimed in. ‘True. Your Excellency, your look is both benevolent and powerful. It captures your masterful strength.’

Ego looked from the stooped sculptor, chisel in hand, to CoPWo whose heavy stature seemed to shrink under the emperor’s gaze.

‘If I may,’ the sculptor stroked his beard and waited for Ego to nod before proceeding. ‘you might use this as a test for your council. Bring them here and ask what they think of the visage. You will soon discover who is loyal and who is not.’

‘Or we can see whether you have created a likeable image of me,’ Ego snarled.

‘Wisely spoken, most mighty Ozymandias the Great,’ the sculptor replied.

The emperor turned on his heel and left with anger still in his stride, while the sculptor slowly ascended the ladder and continued to chisel away at the giant eyebrow as if the interruption had never happened.

CoPWo was not at the following cabinet meeting having been locked in his chambers since the evening visit to the sculptor. Still, whispers of what had transpired in the workshop had spread like wildfire even beyond the palace walls. In the stuffy cabinet, CoP took her place uneasily. All her thinking had brought her back to the same uncomfortable conclusion. Any hopes of getting through the meeting unnoticed were dashed at the very start, however. Ego’s eyes searched her out and he smiled, smiled but did not nod, as if assuming she would bring good news that he wanted to save for last.

He went on to hear from CoArm that his crown was resplendent and would certainly become the most precious item in the empire. The coffers had been boosted by, ahem, recent deaths. Foreign allies had all accepted Ego’s invitations, and the kings’ tribute gifts were adding a wealth of armaments. Uncle CoSH reported that more wells had been dug, increasing the water supply along major travel routes and in the citadel where the festivities would be hosting thousands. Finally, just as she had suspected, CoP was called upon.

‘Most beloved Ego,’ she began, ‘I have been studying the deaths and births and am troubled by one aspect which you may be able to help me with given your exceptional intelligence. Our loyal subjects hold dear the sanctity of life in such a way that the more life lived, the more respected that life. Therefore, it seems right to them to feed the old and starve the young. However, the young also need to eat in order to make up the new generation of workers –’ Ego’s famed sneer stopped her in her tracks.

‘I knew it! I have an uncanny knack for reading minds.’ He seemed so pleased that for one crazy moment, CoP thought maybe he would propose helping to feed the children. ‘The progress of the Tower has been set back. The coffers need to be boosted. My subjects will not be pleased if we don’t proceed as planned, if we don’t continue being the greatest number one.’ He raised his finger. In a flash, her desperate wish collapsed. CoP’s insides knotted up. ‘We will demand that the old wisely sacrifice themselves for the future generations. In every household therefore, all the young will be fed before the aged. Furthermore, we will lower the working age. After all, children are light and agile and will be better suited to climb the heights of the Tower to work at its top.’

Ego’s suggestion was met with frowns and troubled looks as the councilors digested this new position. But CoI started to clap and within moments all the rest had joined in. CoP willed herself breathe, willed her hands to clap, willed her mouth to return Ego’s smile. After all, the emperor himself had saved her from death, for the second time. 

The crowd seemed marginally bigger this week despite the workers’ deaths and cheered ‘the Greatest Number One in nourishing young lives.’ Then all the councilors, feigning surprise and excitement, followed the Great Ozymandias through the palace gardens to the workshop. Without letting on that walls have ears, they all chose to be the loyal subjects of his beloved smile thus sparing their own lives as well as the sculptor’s and promoting the emperor’s appreciation of his colossal image.

—

The day of the Grand Opening of the Tower of Ego was drawing near. The sculpted head had been affixed atop with the minimum of deaths, mostly of low value, and covered from view. The crown was ready, although no one would see it until the day, and the preparations to feed and house the several hundred kings, foreign allies, and their retinue were well underway. The only problems: the famine continued and the royal coffers were running low due to all the expenses. So once again, Ego had come up with a brilliant solution of weekly sacrifices by the old. Golden Gifts, he called them.

The first sacrifices came from the poorest families and were such scrawny specimens that in the eyes of the emperor they hardly represented ‘Golden Gifts.’ ‘CoP, I will not have such weak, malnourished gifts at the Grand Opening. I expect one… two, no, three hundred of the finest looking old people to make up the Golden Gifts for that day.’ Although she responded obligingly, CoP knew her task was nearly impossible. Having been ordered to feed their young first meant that the aged generation was becoming weak and malnourished, unless they lived in the wealthy households. These families, however, would be less inclined to offer their healthy grandmothers and grandfathers as Golden Gifts and difficult to persuade. Yet her life depended on doing just that.

CoP considered her strategy carefully. With under three weeks until the Grand Opening, she decided to start her search in Port Algamesh. It was full of wealthy merchants and captains who were away more than they were at home and, she guessed, would not have time to miss one or two of the elderly in their household. She requested seven assistants but with all the preparations, assistants were in high demand. She had to content herself with three. 

Her instructions to them were clear: ‘You must use Ego’s many great achievements to persuade families that it is a great privilege to send their aged relatives to honor Ego at the Grand Opening. He will take notice of their sacrifice. What better end to a fulfilled life?  When you return in ten days each of you must return with at least fifty healthy Golden Gifts. Once you have finished with the port, continue your search along the coast. I’d like to hear your progress before the next cabinet meeting.’

Once she had sent them off, she turned her attention to setting up lodging for the Golden Gifts and found the hall of the Temple of Who would be large enough. Then she met with the CoCer to plan out the role of the Golden Gifts in the ceremony, with CoPa who turned down her suggestion that the Golden Gifts be given a generous last meal (the coffers could not afford the expense), and with CoArm to give her opinion on the simple tunics they would all wear which, given his attention on the emperor’s lavish crown and clothes, was a mere formality.

—

The Grand Cabinet smelled like the fleshy off-cuts in a butcher’s. CoP didn’t dare tell Ego that so far her assistants hadn’t been able to recruit even one Golden Gift. Instead she lied for the first time ever: ‘I have no exact figures, but the recruitment is going well.’ She listened listlessly to the spirited reports of the other councilors and suffered through the long, detailed outline of all the fanfare of the upcoming celebration and pretended to smile upon hearing that the three hundred Golden Gifts would join the parade to the Tower of Ego. From there, all the dignitaries would proceed to the White Palace where a great feast, entertainment and ball would take place. Cake would be served to all subjects.

CoP cleared her throat and raised her arm to scratch her head. Ego nodded to her.

‘Most honored Ego, when will the Golden Gifts be sacrificed and how?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It is something my guards will need to know,’ chimed in CoW.

Ego shrugged. ‘While everyone is eating their cake.’ He glanced at CoI, who was scratching his head, and nodded.

‘Most excellent Ego, not to offend anyone, may I suggest perhaps a quick, clean and discreet affair during the festivities? Blood is not very popular.’

‘As I was saying, during the festivities, in a quiet corner, underneath the palace.’

CoN (the very handsome Councilor of Necropoli) now indicated he wished to speak. ‘Most respected Ego, since the Golden Gifts will come from your most loyal subjects, what if you were to honor their sacrifice with a specially dedicated necropolis?’

CoPWo joined in. ‘Finishing the Tower of Ego is our top priority. I can hardly give you workers to build a necropolis at this time.’

‘No need. Your workers have already made a good one in the stone quarry. It will need almost no effort to enclose it and, in fact, can be done after the bodies are entombed. In addition, it would be popular — the greatest communal necropolis in the empire.’

Once again, CoP breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had CoN received the award for the Greatest Number One, but he had handed her a great bonus for her recruitment campaign. She sent a message to the three assistants immediately only to find they had been reassigned.

With only ten days to go before the Grand Opening, she went to see CoSH. Being one of the more senior councilors and her uncle, she trusted that he would understand the challenge that stood before her.

‘Uncle, even with CoN’s promise of a special necropolis for the Golden Gifts, my assistants have found only eighteen recruits. I need another two hundred and eighty-two.’

‘What will you do?’

‘I don’t know. My assistants have been assigned to other duties. And alone I can’t search the entire empire, there isn’t enough time. Perhaps there are corners where the famine is less severe? What would you advise?’

Together they looked at a map and CoSH suggested several kingdoms. However, they soon realized that these kingdoms were the very ones that were refusing to pay military tributes and their rebellion would make them more dangerous places for her to seek the Golden Gifts. ‘In any case, distances to the borderlands are great and you haven’t much time,’ her uncle said.

‘Not enough time for longer journeys but even shorter ones are nearly impossible. The palace gates don’t open until sunup and lock at sundown. Perhaps if I had a key to the gates it would buy me more time, but… how can I possibly find the Golden Gifts needed?’

‘You could seek special permission to have a key.’

‘Who would grant that to me, a junior and a woman? No, dear uncle, with only ten days left, my task is impossible which means…’ Her finger made a half-hearted swipe through the air.

CoSH was at a loss for words, concern and pity furrowed his brow. As the hopelessness of her situation sunk in, tears filled her eyes. CoSH sighed and touched her shoulder. ‘Your task is very difficult, but it is not impossible. Life is about winning. I’ll see what I can do.’

—

Before the first morning light dulled the stars and brushed away the darkest shadows, CoP crept to the palace gates and took out the gold key she had found under her pillow the night before. Without waking the guards, she unlocked the gates, slipped through and hurried to the nearest stables where she saddled a horse for her journey. Pushing away her worry about her decision to travel alone without guards for protection, she rode out of the citadel and down into the wide plain.

The warm air was dry as dust and she was shocked at how lifeless everything looked. While the fountains still played amongst the flowers and the peacocks strutted around on the verdant lawns surrounding the White Palace, the once fertile fields of this plain had turned to stubble.  Villages along the road bordered a soggy riverbed where flatboats had to navigate around rocks that had always been deeply submerged. Everywhere, hollow eyes blinked away flies as they watched her go by. She would find no Golden Gifts here.

Relentless, the blistering sun climbed the sky. Finally, she stopped at an oasis of trees with three shacks offering coconuts and water. The shade was a welcome relief and the water cleansed the dust from her mouth. Her horse sucked up muddy sludge from a bucket. She was about to carry on when she noticed an old woman with a distinctive nose and stormy grey hair sitting a short distance away at the base of a tree. Her faded clothes were neatly patched with mismatched prints and her bare feet were dusty and worn. Although her appearance was wild and unruly, her manner was calm as she beckoned CoP to her. Without the customary greeting, the woman inquired why she was travelling in such heat. Her voice was youthful; she smelled of earth after a fresh rain.

Claiming to be a lowly assistant to a councilor, CoP told her of her mission to help find Golden Gifts for the Grand Opening of the Tower of Ego.

The wildish woman watched her with polite interest until she had finished. ‘So I suppose you will now ask me.’

‘Ask you? Oh!’ She gave an embarrassed laugh realizing suddenly that of course this old woman would make a good candidate. Looking into her deep-set eyes the color of olive leaves, CoP felt drawn as if into an embrace and she stuttered. ‘Only if you…Perhaps you would… it would be… the greatest honor.’

The old woman smiled broadly. ‘Indeed! I will gladly do so if you give me that key you are carrying.’

‘What key?’

‘The gold one you hang around your neck under your clothing.’ She cackled, delighted with herself.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ CoP said curtly and before the woman could elaborate, she rushed to her horse and galloped away. How had the woman known about the key? Perhaps she’d glimpsed it when CoP had bent down to get water for her horse?

Once her heart stopped racing and her mind cleared, she determined that at the first opportunity she would find an ironmonger to make her a copy of the key to keep hidden amongst her bags lest this one be stolen from her person by a seemingly friendly villain. The wildish woman had caught her out and she would need to reconsider her approach carefully. She mustn’t let an opportunity to recruit a Golden Gift pass her by, she told herself sternly. Why had she been so foolish?

Then she realized that the woman’s eyes had reminded her of her grandmother who had died a few years back. Granny had been good at many common things but best at nothing in particular. In fact, although she had tried to help CoP in her studies, Granny had always failed. One day, CoP had gotten so irate at not being able to solve a problem, she had thrown her parchment and quills and instruments across the room. Granny had gotten up and had quietly and patiently picked up each item and returned them to her with a smile. ‘Life is about more than winning,’ she’d whispered in CoP’s ear.

Pushing the memory aside, she rebuked herself for letting her emotions weaken her resolve. Nevertheless, her encounter with the old woman changed her luck, and in the following week, she was able to successfully recruit two hundred and ninety-two Golden Gifts.

CoSH was immensely surprised. ‘How did you do it?’

‘Mostly good fortune,’ she replied, ‘and a little change in tactics.’

—

The day of the Grand Opening of the Tower of Ego dawned clear but the air sat heavily on the citadel. Already, the palace was a bustle of activity seeing to the needs of the dignitaries and their retinue. Children rushed about with drink and towels, platters of fruits, buckets of water, and small scrolls bearing messages. These youngsters were proud to be of service for this important occasion and would be fed well for their work.

CoP dressed in the customary red robe wound the customary red scarf around her head. All fifteen councilors (Ego had made sure all positions were filled) would have the honor to parade ahead of Ego’s golden carriage atop an elephant and each would carry a banner with Ego’s crest: a red elephant carrying a circle of gold stars on its back. For this occasion, she had heard that the live elephant had been painted red to match the crest.

First she must check on the Golden Gifts who would naturally come at the back of the parade; she must make sure they had all arrived and were being taken care of. Ego had ordered that they line up in ten rows of thirty in front of the Tower, which would make them easy to count. She hurried out the gates and through the streets where crowds were already gathering for the festivities. The sugary, spiced smell of sweetmeats filled the air. Finally, she came to the domed Temple of Who. Ten guards stood watch in front of the ornately carved blue doors but, dressed as she was, they admitted her without questions.

Inside, the room was crowded with older people wearing the simple white tunics which had been furnished them for the occasion. They had obviously not received the care she had been promised as many lay on the bare floor where they had slept overnight and no food or drink was in sight. One of CoCer’s assistants approached her and bowed deeply.

‘Where’s the food and drink for the Golden Gifts?’ she asked.

‘Honored Councilor of Provisions, I was told the palace has only the food to feed the guests.’

‘That’s not acceptable. These people need food if they are to last the day. Go to the palace kitchens and tell them the Councilor of Provisions is entertaining 300 guests in the Temple to Who and needs food and drink.’

The assistant lifted his hand to his head. She nodded for him to speak.

‘There is another problem.’

‘Yes?’

‘I have counted them and two are missing.’

‘Missing? How?’

He shrugged apologetically. ‘Maybe they died?’

With a sigh she waved him off and went out to the guards. Going up to one who looked particularly large and fierce, she said, ‘We will have to recruit two more Golden Gifts. Go out and find two suitable candidates and tell them their families will receive a great reward which I will give them when they arrive.’ Then she turned on her heel and went back into the Temple to give the Golden Gifts their day’s instructions.

Over the course of the morning, the rumble of the crowds outside grew louder. All were eager for the joys of celebration, food, drink, music and pageantry. All were eager to catch a glimpse of the emperor and the new crown which no one had seen yet. All were eager to cheer the parade of kings and watch the unveiling of the tower’s head hidden under a red cloth. By the time the guard returned, it was nearly time to start. Trumpets sounded their triumphant salute from all the turrets, minarets and towers of the citadel.

‘I only found one,’ the guard said, looking down at his boots. Too late CoP realized her mistake. The guard was a lamb in wolf’s clothing. He hadn’t the heart to coerce anyone. The old woman who was next to him hobbled forward, her back bent double from years of hard toil. She was hardly a Golden Gift but there was no time left. Already the guards were opening the doors and the older people were lining up five across to join the parade. CoP grabbed one walking by and found herself looking at the wildish woman she had met in the oasis. ‘I never recruited you,’ she said in surprise.

‘You just can’t remember. We all look the same to you. But I can see you need me to take care of our newcomer. No need to worry. May I take one of the white tunics for this Golden Gift, as you call her?’ The woman reached out and took one of the tunics CoP was holding.

‘Oh, well, here,’ CoP pulled at a cord around her neck, but the woman stopped her. ‘You will need that; the last tunic is for you.’ As CoP watched the two walk slowly over to join the line, she realized the wildish woman was right. She CoP would have to be the final Golden Gift.

In the confusion and excitement of the parade, no one noticed that only fourteen councilors marched at the front, perhaps because there were rarely more than that. And few noticed that one of the Golden Gifts was younger than the rest, quite a bit younger. Accompanied by guards and dancing musicians, they walked slowly up the winding streets lined with cheering crowds until they came to Red Square in front of the Tower of Ego. All in the parade had taken their positions facing the tower and they watched now as the Golden Gifts formed ten tidy rows of thirty flanked on each end with royal guards.

CoP wondered what might happen if someone recognized her, whether Ego would forgive or punish her betrayal. She glanced up to see him being carried, reclining on his palanquin, to the center of the square where the palanquin was set down on top of the People’s Well. On his head was the most resplendent crown she could have imagined. A ring of gold hands spiraled up towards the heavens, fingers outstretched as if pleading for mercy. And each finger, from the larger ones on the bottom to the small child-like ones at the top, wore a jeweled ring. One of the jewels broke a ray of sun which shot into CoP’s eye, a piercing reminder to cast her gaze downward.

The speech of Emperor the Great Ozymandias was long and rambling. He returned time and again to the Greatest Number One which made him the greatest of all emperors, eliciting a cheer each time, and he forgot to mention the Golden Gifts and the honor they were bestowing on him. Thunder rumbled in the distance and a light wind brought a trace of relief in the heat-steeped streets.

Just then a young boy with a mop of black curls ran out from the crowd toward the rows of Golden Gifts shouting, ‘Granny! Granny!’ He flung himself around the waist of a buxom woman in the front row. From the side streets, people jostled to see past the guards holding them back.

CoI strode out from the group of councilors and grabbed the boy. ‘You must return to your family now,’ CoI said amicably though his smile was as unyielding as stone.

‘I want to stay with Granny,’ the boy cried as CoI dragged him away.

‘Me too,’ cried another child, and then another, who each ran to hug their beloved grandparent.

Other councilors intervened but the dyke had broken. More and more children ran from the crowd to hug one of the Golden Gifts. Some of the older people had four or five little ones hanging onto them.

Overhead, dark grey clouds had stolen the sun. Emperor the Great Ozymandias surveyed the chaos with a scowl. Realizing that the councilors were outnumbered, he bellowed: ‘I’m sure the children provide much love and comfort to my three-hundred-and-one Golden Gifts. Let them stay.’ A roll of thunder applauded the emperor’s order and sent the councilors scurrying back to their places.

Confused, CoP glanced up. How could there be three hundred and one? Had CoCer’s assistant made a mistake? As she started to silently count the backs of the Golden Gifts, trumpet fanfare announced the unveiling of the Tower’s head. Slowly the ropes attached to the edges of the red cloth began to pull it off. CoP had reached one hundred and twelve, when one of the Golden Gifts turned around and looked up. It was the renowned sculptor, the very one who had sculpted the head being unveiled. She had not recruited him. He was the extra Golden Gift, an involuntary one no doubt. And holding his hand was a little girl.

A bolt of lightning hit the tower with a loud crack burning through two of the ropes. In the storm of screams and wind, the red cloth flapped like some giant wounded bird over the square. As all watched, it fluttered and tumbled past the chest, the hips and the legs of the colossal Ego and sank down to cover Emperor the Great Ozymandias and his councilors.

One of the children shrieked in horror. ‘Look! It’s a scary giant!’ For a moment everyone thought the child was frightened of the writhing red beast of cloth consuming the imperial retinue, but soon eyes were drawn upward to the face of the Tower of Ego. To a tumult of cries and gasps, CoP watched terror, alarm, shock spread across the faces of the children, across the faces of the crowd, even across the faces of the guards and the Golden Gifts, as they all took in the enormous likeness of the Emperor the Great Ozymandias, all the faces except one – that of the sculptor who smiled on his work with appreciation.

CoP turned to look up just as the skies unleashed the torrent of rain withheld for months. People scattered for cover. A few of the Golden Gifts took immediate advantage of the confusion to dash away while some parents ran to collect their children, but soldiers stopped them and quickly encircled the rest of the group.

All the while, the dignitaries stayed sheltered under the awning meant for shade, all were obviously disturbed whether more by the monstrous sculpture towering above them or by the red behemoth still squirming in the middle of the square. The wetter it became, the heavier and more unwieldy, but finally its victims were extracted and hurried off towards the safety of the White Palace. All except one councilor, who stood staring into the huddle of Golden Gifts until he was persuaded by another flash of lightning to rush away to the palace. CoP was wondering whether her uncle had seen her, when she saw him trip over the edge of the red cloth lying like a pool of blood in the square.

Just then a guard broke ranks and ran to where CoSH had tripped. Pulling up the cloth, he extracted the emperor’s new crown. She expected him to carry it to the palace but instead he strode to the People’s Well, turned to the rain-drenched crowd of little ones, old ones, and guards, and raised the crown of suppliant hands up towards the tower, smiling mischievously as if to tease the giant emperor.

A shout broke through the gushing rain and someone ran towards the guard who tipped his arms back, tossing the precious crown into the well.

—

In the gloomy chill of the palace dungeon, CoP shivered in her wet clothes as she crouched on the hard-packed earth. Around her the children and elderly comforted each other in hushed tones until one child’s whimper infected others and soon a soft chorus of crying started up. Sadness and fear filled the underground cavern. CoP had assumed the children would be separated from the Golden Gifts and returned to their families, but as time wore on, she realized that they too were here to be sacrificed. Then a woman’s voice rose steadily above the wailing and soon other voices joined in singing the well-loved lullaby:

Hush now my little one, little one hush,
Can you not hear the song of the cicadas
that send you into dreaming
the untold promises of stars,
the untold promises of stars?

The crying had stopped; whispering echoed off the walls like prayers. CoP considered her situation. She could leave. After all, under her white tunic she was dressed in her red councilor robes. The guards would have to unlock the dungeon gate and allow her to go, but they would not let the rest go. How foolish she had been to think that the copies she had given each volunteer of the key to gates of the White Palace would offer them an escape! This ‘reward’ had only served to lure them into sacrifice and allay her guilt temporarily.

Someone nudged her. High up in the stone walls several grates let in a weak light, just enough for her to recognize the wildish woman from the oasis. ‘You do not have to stay. You have done your part. You should leave.’

‘The children were not part of the plan.’

‘The emperor was cunning in his wrath.’

‘No,’ CoP thought, ‘he is cunning in his ignorance and deathly calm in his wrath.’ Either way, she would not be forgiven.

‘The children will escape with us,’ the old woman continued. ‘All you have to do is get us out of the dungeon.’

Easier said than done. She looked over to the large metal gates separating them from ten armed guards sitting at a wooden table playing dominoes. Behind them was the narrow passage leading to a set of locked doors, then fifty steps up to another set of reinforced doors leading to the courtyard flanked on three sides by the guards’ quarters with the fourth side opening through a gate to the palace gardens.

The door at the top of the passage clanged open and footsteps announced the arrival of two men, both councilors, CoSH and CoW. Although from his swagger and atypical grin, it appeared CoW had been enjoying a good number of drinks, his guards jumped to attention.

‘You are holding the Councilor of Provisions prisoner, you idiots. Open this gate at once.’

CoP looked across the sea of people gently rocking the little ones to keep them quiet. She didn’t want to stand up. She wished she could disappear, but she knew that CoSH was certain to find her if it took inspecting every single person and disturbing every single child.

‘I’ll do what I can,’ she whispered to the wildish woman before slipping off her white tunic and making her way carefully through the huddled crowd to the gate.

CoSH breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her and CoW said, ‘Ego has asked to see you.’

‘I’ve been waiting here. The children should have been released hours ago,’ she said.

‘Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.’

‘They have played their part in this Grand Opening and have much to contribute to our future empire.’

‘Ego said nothing to me.’

‘Of course not. He is entertaining and assumes you will take care of this.’

CoW staggered back at the force of her tone. ‘What do you think, CoSH?’

CoSH looked from his niece to the councilor in charge of the empire’s war machine. ‘Will you need them as soldiers to defend the empire?’

‘Your necks if this isn’t what Ego wanted,’ threatened CoW before he turned to address the prisoners. ‘All little ones are ordered to leave now.’ The prisoners roused the children around them and encouraged them toward the gate.

‘Can Granny come too?’ asked the young boy who had started the whole thing back in Red Square.

‘No, Granny has to be executed.’

CoP winced and shook her head at CoW in frustration, but he wasn’t looking.

‘Executived?’

‘Executed. She has to die, boy. Out you go unless you want to die too.’

‘No!’ the boy cried and rushed back inside followed by several other children.

Before any others could go back in, CoW slammed the gate shutting in most of the little ones. In the panic and crying that ensued, CoW strode off shouting, ‘CoSH, you settle this. I leave you wholly responsible. CoP, Ego wants to see you. Now.’

CoP ignored him and as soon as she heard the door slam, she turned to the guards. ‘I am truly surprised to see the Councilor of War in such a state that he does not remember our most respected Ego’s instructions.’ The guards eyed her warily. She continued. ‘The families paid the full grave tribute for the Golden Gifts to be presented at this auspicious occasion. They will also pay the full grave tribute required at the time of their natural death. This means they will have paid double the amount. As you see, the children are not prepared to leave their elders because they expect them to return home. They provide each other much love and comfort and both generations play their own important role in a family as I am sure you know. That is why, Ego in his infinite wisdom wished them to be brought here as a symbolic gesture, not as a real sacrifice. It is time, now that the festivities are fully underway to let them go unnoticed.’

The head guard, the one with the keys, turned to CoSH. ‘The Councilor of War left you responsible.’

CoP stepped closer. ‘I will take complete responsibility as Councilor of Provisions in charge of the Golden Gifts. Our honored Emperor the Great Ozymandias spoke to me about this personally.’

CoSH stared at her with that same knit brow of confusion and concern.

The head guard noticed. ‘Councilor of Sanitation and Health, I take it this is the first you have heard of this. Get the children back inside,’ he ordered the other guards.

As the gate was unlocked, CoP knew she had lost the battle. Unable to bring herself to look once more at the gentle people sitting in the half-dark prison, she turned and walked towards the passage leading out. Then she stopped. Her life too was over. As soon as Ego heard, it would be her neck next.

Behind her, she heard CoSH clear his throat. ‘Guard, I know the Councilor of Provisions to be honest and loyal but if you want me to, I will go speak to Ego now. In the meantime, please bring these people to the guard’s courtyard and I will have his most trusted Councilor of Information in person confirm our emperor’s wish there. I hope we do not incur his wrath. We certainly have lost much time.’

The head guard considered CoSH’s words a while before responding. ‘Right, councilor, I will have these Golden Gifts and the children brought up to the guards’ gate.’

‘CoP,’ CoSH said. ‘I will let Ego know that you are taking care of the responsibility that he rested on your shoulders. I am sure he will want you to see them safely escorted out of the palace before you join the festivities.’

‘Thank you, CoSH.’

Now, only the guards’ gate stood between them and the gates of the White Palace. From lit windows in the palace, laughter and music were punctuated by shrieks as the group waited calmly in the dark for their fate to be decided. CoP kept her eye on the guard by the gate hoping he would leave his post so that she might see whether the gold key might open this gate as well. Finally, she grabbed the hands of two children and led them over to the gate ‘for some fresh air.’ In deference to the councilor, the guard stepped away. Keeping her back to him, she quickly took out the golden key, fit it into the lock and turned it, but halfway round it got stuck. She wiggled it and pushed it and pulled it, trying to move it, but it wouldn’t budge either forwards or backwards.

Just then, the crowd murmured; a light approached a darkened window above them. The Councilor of Information looked out and in his most officious voice, he announced. ‘His most esteemed and honored and respected and so-on Emperor the Great Ozymandias, says that it must be done immediately without delay…’ He burped and then added less officiously, ‘or heads will roll.’

The head guard immediately went to the guards’ gate where he found a golden key stuck in the lock. ‘What imbecile could mistake the gold key for the silver one,’ he muttered as he forced the gold one out and pocketed it.

Without a glance in any direction, CoP led the group through the guard’s gates and the gates of the White Palace and out into the empty Red Square. She stopped and looked up the Tower of Ego to the face obscured by night. Just then a flash of lightening lit it momentarily, long enough for her to glimpse that any semblance of a smile that might indicate magnanimity was gone. Instead the sneer displayed supreme arrogance and menacing indifference.

The gates of the citadel were open. No guards were present. Old and young were disappearing down the dark hill. But the wildish woman was waiting for her with a horse.

‘This horse is for you,’ she said. ‘It’s a long journey to the borderlands.’

CoP thanked her with a smile and they bid each other farewell. Then she mounted the horse and rode out towards the black outline of the plateau at rest under the untold promises of stars.