By now I had become thoroughly familiar with the palace. I spent many hours reading and studying in the library until my weak eyes grew so tired I had to stop. At other times I sat where the slaves gathered and listened to them, for they often talked of our own people. At first they eyed me with suspicion, fearing that I might be spying for the prince, but eventually most of them became accustomed to me being there and forgot about their suspicions, although there always seemed to be a few who left whenever I entered.
One day in the spring after my sixteenth rainy season, I was walking alone down a palace corridor. I never knew what made me stop that day, but stop I did just before I came to a crossing. I heard voices of two men talking in my language around the corner.
One voice said, “This must be kept a complete secret. If it is, then we will be able to overpower the soldiers; if it is not, it will mean death for us all.”
“I’d rather die than remain a slave,” the other voice said. “What will happen to the royal family?”
“They will, of course, be slain. As long as they remain alive, more Conquerors can come to support them.”
I went cold. Slain? Did that mean Ammirus?
“When will this be?” asked the second voice.
“Soon. You will be told when and what your duty is. Now we must go before we are seen.”
Hiding behind a column, I heard one man quietly pad down the side corridor while the other turned the corner and passed right where I had been standing. My breath was shallow. I was simultaneously sweating and shivering. I tried to think what I should do. I did not know the names of the two slaves. Nor did I know how many of the slaves were involved in the plot or who they were. If I kept silent, perhaps I could learn more.
I went on down the corridor and to the library where I tried to study, but I was unable to concentrate. Visions of my Ammirus bleeding and lying lifeless on the floor kept appearing before my eyes. Then I had a vision of myself lying lifeless beside him. Would they kill me, too — one of their own?
That night in bed I wept as I had not wept since I had been released from my cell. If Zwahe was killed, I realized, I did not want to live, either. But if I told him about the plot, then my own people would be killed. How could I be loyal to both? Finally I dropped off into a troubled sleep and dreamed all night of screams and blood and death.
I awoke in the morning still tormented by my dreams. In the following days when I was with Zwahe, I was bursting to tell him what I had overheard, but I felt I couldn’t betray my people.
Zwahe soon noticed I was quieter than usual. “What is wrong, Ammirus?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“But something is troubling you. I can tell.”
“There is nothing I can talk about.” And try as he would, he could not get me to talk about my problem.
As the days passed I became very aware that the slaves were being more cautious around me. When I went into the gathering places now, a sudden silence descended, and many of the slaves left. I tried to talk to Jiraha. At first she would say nothing, but then one day when she was dressing me after my bath she looked around furtively and whispered, “Beware of Hiwah.”
“Why?”
“I cannot say. It would be worth my life. Just don’t trust him.” With that, she departed.
I’d never trusted him, I thought, but from then on I was even more on my guard.
A few days later, when I went into the library and was looking for a place to sit, I noticed a slave moving secretively away from one of the chairs. As nonchalantly as possible, I chose a text and went to sit in that chair. I waited a full fifteen minutes before I felt under the table. Nothing. I waited a little longer then felt under the chair. At first, nothing again, but then my fingers touched a scrap of paper. Surreptitiously I detached the paper from the bottom of the chair and put it in my sash.
I read for an hour — or pretended to — but was unable to concentrate. Finally, I replaced the text on a shelf and returned to my room, where I closed and locked the door. I took out the note, unfolded it, and read, “One week from today.”
What did that mean? Did it mean that the uprising would be in a week? Or did it mean something else? How could I find out?
I burned the note in the candle and went out into the prince’s garden where I was joined a few moments later by Zwahe.
“Hello, Ammirus,” said the prince, smiling. “You are looking especially solemn. What are you thinking about?”
“Oh, just something I read in the library. It’s a math problem.”
I proceeded to make up a problem and tell it to Zwahe, who said, “But that is easy.” He solved the problem at once. “I am surprised you were puzzled by it.”
“It wasn’t really the problem that was puzzling me but the reason why it was in such an advanced text.”
He seemed to accept my answer, and then he began to give me lessons on everything he had learned that morning. I, however, was distracted and unable to absorb what he was saying. Finally I said, “Zwahe, I’m sorry, but I just don’t seem to be able to concentrate this afternoon. I think I have a little fever. Could we wait until tomorrow?” He nodded, and I returned to my room.
Outside my door I encountered my nemesis, Hiwah.
“Well, brat, I see you aren’t with your little prince today.”
“I don’t feel well.”
“If you were very wise, you would remain sick for a while.”
“Why?”
“You are spending too much time with that prince of yours, and many of us are suspicious.”
“That’s your problem,” I retorted boldly. “There is nothing between the two of us to make you suspicious.” And with that I opened my door and entered my room, locking it behind me.
For five days I was tortured by my problem. I could not decide whether to talk to the prince or to side with my people. What I did know was that, either way, I could be killed.
Finally, on the sixth day, when Jiraha arrived for my morning bath, she whispered quietly, “You know of the uprising?”
I nodded.
“I can only tell you that Hiwah and another slave will come to the prince’s garden tomorrow morning and slay you and the prince. Then Hiwah will give the signal for an attack. If you tell anybody how you know of this I shall be slain.”
“Thank you, Jiraha. You are indeed a loyal friend.”
And so I knew that I must decide that day what to do. I could tolerate the burden no longer. So when the prince entered my room I said, “Zwahe, I have something to tell you.”
“You’ve finally decided?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been unhappy and distracted for nearly a week now. What’s bothering you?”
“Where is the most private place we can talk?”
“My garden. There’s no place there for anybody to hide, and I can lock the doors. Only Hiwah knows how to unlock them. Come.” With that he led me through his own room and out into his garden.
Sitting on a bench by the fountain and motioning for me to do the same, the prince said, “Now then, Ammirus, what’s bothering you?
“I have a terrible problem.”
“What is it?”
“I have to decide whether to be loyal to you or to my own people.”
“So you have to decide who you care about more?”
“Exactly.”
“Tell me, Ammirus,” he asked thoughtfully, “who is the wisest person in your family?”
“That’s easy. My grandpapa Mardol.”
“And what do you think your grandpapa would tell you to do?”
“That’s just the problem. He never gives a direct answer. He would say something like, ‘You must follow your heart’.”
“Well?”
“But my heart is divided, and no matter what I do, it will be broken, and in fact most likely I will die.”
“Then you must tell me, Ammirus. I can protect you. With me you won’t die.”
“But if I tell you, perhaps your father will want to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t told the secret I know until now, when it is almost too late.”
“Then you must tell me. I will not let my father slay you, even if it means hiding you and never seeing you again.”
“I just do not know. . .” and tears flooded my face.
“Please stop, Ammirus,” said the prince gently, and without saying anything more, he began to kiss me, licking away the tears from my cheek. “I love you, Ammirus. The question is, do you love me?”
“Y…Y…Yes, I do.”
The flicker of a smile passed over his face as he said, “Then you must tell me what is troubling you.”
Slowly, haltingly, I told him what I knew. He listened with growing horror.
“But you don’t know which slaves are involved?”
“I am certain that Hiwah is and that Jiraha is not. But I think the other slaves who are not involved are too frightened to say anything.”
“We must tell my father immediately!”
“But then my people will hate me and probably kill me.”
“Do they know that you are aware of their plan?”
“Only Jiraha, and I am certain she will say nothing.”
“Then you have nothing to fear. Come.” And before I could object further, the prince dragged me from the fountain and through the door. In his room he said, “Stay with me,” and we proceeded hastily to the king’s throne room.