Sicarri Bloodlines / Crimson Veil (working titles)
Another rough draft from one of my historical fictional manuscripts in progress. It will examine the emotional toll and moral complexities faced by a Sicarri Assassin in 1st-century Judea who was contracted by the religious elite to assassinate Jesus of Nazareth.
For over two hours he stood perfectly still, concealed in shadow just inside the corner where Jerusalem’s northern and eastern walls converged. His vantage point provided an unobstructed view of the main street, where he could see anyone entering or leaving via the eastern gate. Waiting for long periods of time and blending into his surroundings, were skills he acquired from an early age. It had come in handy when he stalked wild game as a young boy; something he now momentarily reflected on with a pang of nostalgia. What he did now required no less patience; besides, apart from commanding a high price for his particular skill sets, he still revelled in the hunt. At least up until recently.
At just over five feet ten inches, he was slender with dark brown curly hair just touching his shoulders. His hazel eyes were offset with green flecks; a combination rarely seen in that region. Those who found themselves caught in their dispassionate gaze, had the uneasy impression of being dissected and analyzed; as if they were being catalogued for retention, or disposal. His aquiline nose, and close-cropped beard, combined with his unusual eye colour and deeply tanned complexion, caused some to mistake him for a northern Cushite, or someone from the northern Babylonian region where the Tigris and Euphrates rivers met.
He wore an expensive yet nondescript homespun outer tunic that matched the dusty brown colour of the main road that held his current focus. Beneath the tunic, he wore a close-fitting body suit of hand-weaved light Egyptian cotton; modified with a muted tribal design he adopted during previous travels to the Far East . This attire hid a slender wiry frame with powerful ropy muscles, accentuated with scars that held physical and psychological stories of their own. Stories that spoke of loss, grief and no small measure of cold, violent calculation.
Just visible under his tunic sleeves were leather straps that wrapped his arms in a crisscross pattern from his wrists to his elbows. Interwoven into these braids were four hidden Sicae; short curved daggers; two anchored on each arm. A fifth hidden dagger was anchored beneath his tunic in the small of his back. Because of his propensity toward careful planning and caution, he also incorporated two further straight daggers, stitched into the back of the leather uppers covering his calves. On his legs and feet he wore rugged leather stanchions, made from cured camel leather and thick, triple-stitched, double layered cowhide soles. This was a design of his own making; not for any inherent statement of fashion, but for the stealth and surefooted activity that were intrinsic to his tradecraft.
His nondescript and subtle appearance suited his profession, which worked to his advantage more often than not. His ability to blend in or disappear in plain sight, in any location, crowded or otherwise, made him a valuable commodity in his chosen line of work. Much of which lately, had been in and around Roman-occupied Jerusalem. In rare moments, such as now, he pondered where life had taken him; and not for the first time, he considered whether his present line of work had chosen him instead of the other way round.
Tovi Ben Zani had been at his craft long enough to know that it was foolhardy, if not pointless, to envision a long life, especially if one happened to be a Sicarii assassin. One who was about to break the single, cardinal rule of his profession. Denouncing the local Sicarii Assassin’s Guild, and then attempting to leave the Dark Brotherhood with all of its entanglements behind. He had not only been an integral member of this particular Guild for the past 8 years - he was its founding member. Even contemplating the revocation of all ties to his order, was sufficient grounds to initiate an automatic termination contract on himself. Something that in this moment, to his surprise, held no concern for him.
