Tsydon

The Sun On The Horizon

Two

The City

Explorer in a strange land 

Astarte 

Artwork: Byblos by Victor Haddad

Despite his better judgement, Daniel allowed Ba’al to steer him to the table laden with food. It had been days since he’d last eaten and that, combined with Ba’al’s frankly unbelievable story, was making him quite light-headed. He selected a flat, fruit-filled bread, tore it into chunks and stuffed one into his mouth, all the while keeping an eye on the Goa’uld who had retreated to the parapet to conduct business of some kind with Elsh.

Daniel’s gaze drifted to the twelve guards, still standing at the Jaffa version of parade rest, just inside the open windows. He helped himself to a goblet of spiced cider and stared at the soldiers. Something was different with these people. Well, something other than their lack of armour and staff weapons. Something was missing. Oh. Of course. None of them, male or female, bore the brand of Ba’al on their foreheads. He frowned and openly stared at them. They were uniformly tall, attractive and deadly looking. And unbranded. He checked their shoulders, where Ra’s warriors had borne his Eye brand but those too were unblemished.

“Something bothers you, Daniel?” Ba’al walked over to him, Elsh dismissed and trotting off on some other errand.

“What? Bothers? No, no. I was just wondering why your Jaffa aren’t branded like others we’ve… run into.”

Ba’al cocked an eyebrow at him. “We have no desire to mar the beauty of our people, Daniel. Besides, no brand on a warrior’s face will ensure loyalty in his heart, as you well know.”

“Really? That’s seems to be in contradiction with other System Lords we’ve encountered.”

“We are not like other System Lords, Daniel. This is what we wish you to understand. If you have eaten enough, please, come. Let me show you.”

“Okay.” Daniel drew the word out as he put down his empty cup and stood.

Ba’al inclined his head and led the way back into the palace. Daniel cautiously walked after him, the silent guards falling into place behind them. They moved out into the hallway and turned left, joining a throng of people moving about their business with cheery aplomb. Their route took them down a sweeping staircase, past two other floors and out into another, even larger hallway, easily fifty feet wide. A waterfall tinkled down one marble wall, draining into a pool lined with green mirrors and framed by flowering plants and lilies. Bright flashes of colour beneath the water announced the presence of fish. At least, I hope they’re fish. Daniel steered well clear of the pond, just to be on the safe side. A trio of players, armed with harp, sistrum and what looked like an oud provided pleasant background music to the bustle of people moving through the hall or congregating in small groups to either conduct business or engage in gossip. Daniel kept an eye on Ba’al as they moved on, noting the way those they passed nearby would only nod in his direction, some not bothering at all to acknowledge their ‘god’. He thought back to Teal’c’s descriptions of life on Chulak and found little resemblance to the way Tsydon seemed to be run. More than anything, this palace appeared like a busy office building on Earth – not at all a feudal system run by a despot with delusions of godhood.

The doors at the end of the hallway were simply stunning: metal-framed stained glass, three stories high, depicting fields and seas abundant with animal life and happy, healthy humans. Daniel craned his head as they passed through the open central panels, trying and failing to find a representation of the Goa’uld in the glass. Down a wide, long staircase of white stone, and they were in a vast, open courtyard. Here were the bases of the trees whose tops he had seen from the breakfast room balcony. Shady nooks abounded, with grassy alcoves surrounded by flowering shrubs sheltered under the trees. Elegant statues carved from marble were dotted about, portraying men, women and fauna with fine displays of craftsmanship. Birds twittered above them as the sun shone down warmly. People were scattered all through the area, sitting in groups or pairs, talking or generally enjoying the day. It was all very… pleasant.

Ba’al walked on, nodding greetings here and there. Daniel tagged along at his heels, absorbing the palace and its people avidly. They moved along the gravel paths towards the outer wall and its monumental arched portal, bearing two open bronze gates. The walls themselves rose a hundred or more feet, tops crowned with battlements and strolling guards – dressed in the same fashion as their own escort. As he passed into the shade of the gate, Daniel paused and looked back at the palace. It was beautiful, admittedly. Creamy masonry rose and dipped in elegant curves, bright curtains fluttered at nearly every open window, trees and bushes added patches of green in tiny balconies or larger private gardens. Complemented by the piercing blue of the sea and sky beyond and the brightly dressed and happy people everywhere, it was a scene unlike any Daniel had expected.

He turned back to see Ba’al smiling benevolently. Passing under the gateway, the Goa’uld led the way onto a broad stone causeway that stretched over the water towards the shore. Here, he got his first real look at the land beyond, and saw clusters of large stone buildings, behind which rose a broad, treed hill, dotted with a sizeable community of homes. Crowning the hill were several structures, gleaming brightly in the sun.

“We are most proud of our city and our people, Daniel. We are glad you find it interesting.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Ah. We first settled here forty centuries ago. The actual date is… unimportant,” Ba’al chuckled. “Our people have been blessed with a fertile and safe land upon which to thrive under Our guidance.”

“Uh huh. Right.” Daniel looked at the fortifications on the causeway and palace and on the large, squat buildings at the end of the causeway. Peace built on a foundation of military aggression and oppression. That works.

“Before us, Daniel, is the garrison of Our City Guard. They secure the city, the sea traffic and also the outlying towns and villages. We are proud to say that never once has an invading force reached the soil of our lands.”

Daniel looked up at the pennants fluttering from the battlements of the buildings at the end of the causeway. Soldiers patrolled there too, similarly dressed as the palace guard. Troops in squads of twenty were drilling in precise ranks on the broad parade ground that fronted the barracks. Other squads were engaged in combat practice, wielding long staffs in intricate manoeuvres that he had often seen Teal’c use in training.  A group of mounted soldiers passed close by, their elegant horses all a uniform white with rippling manes and tails that swept the ground as they walked.

Ba’al led their party off to the left, along a wide stone street at the base of the barracks. It wound past open parkland, keeping level with the shoreline. At the end of the park rose a new set of buildings, some made of stone, others of wood, all large and apparent beehives of activity. The tang of salt air and seawater added to the atmosphere. Hammering sounds emanated from an open fronted wooden building surrounded by boats of all sizes, from small skiffs to large fishing trawlers – drawn up onto dry-docks or simply laying on the open ground. Men and women were at work on many of them, repairing, painting or building from scratch. Some looked up as their “god” walked by and nodded a greeting, others merely continued with their work, obviously quite used to the presence of Ba’al.

Another few minutes’ walk brought the full extent of the harbour into view. It was a large bay, sheltered by a breakwater stretching from the far shore, mirrored on the other side by the palace itself. Daniel paused, surprised by the actual scale of the castle and its ramparts: sheer curtain walls, topped with wall-walks, rising at least five hundred feet straight up from the lapping blue water. The walls were punctuated by lofty turreted towers, decorated with crenelated parapets. His gaze drifted around the shore, finally meeting Ba’al’s, beaming proudly beside him.

Ba’al indicated the stretch of buildings fronting the shore. “Our warehouses store grain, food and trade goods brought in through the spaceport from Our villages and towns and that which has been procured or traded on other planets.” He smiled, an oddly wistful smile. “Eshmun’s bounties bless us.”

Daniel blinked, astonished. That sounded awfully like an invocation of a deity. He opened his mouth but was cut off by Ba’al’s delighted exclamation: “Ah, here, Daniel, We may show off one of Our sea vessels. Our great pride.” Ba’al reached out and turned Daniel back to face the bay.

A sailing vessel was emerging from behind the palace – an enormous wooden ship under a cloud of white canvas sails. It was streamlined, black-painted sides and decking, in a style Daniel was unfamiliar with, but its clean lines spoke of power and speed. As he watched, the sails were dropped and its speed fell away. It coasted into the bay, turning with an ease that belied its size, heading for a dock some distance further around the shore.

“You still use sailing ships? Why, when you’ve obviously got space ships of every sort available to you?”

“The worth of a thing is not only in its usefulness, Daniel. It lies in its beauty, its ability to stir the heart, to connect a living being with the energy of the ocean. When she sails the seas, she is alive herself and she brings life to all who stand upon her decks.” Ba’al was staring raptly at the retreating ship.

“Yo ho, me hearties,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

“Come, now, We have much more to show you.” Ba’al led the way to a short metal pillar set apart on a platform of grass.

Their escort hung back as Ba’al ushered Daniel to stand on the metal plate set in front of the pillar.

“What is this?” Daniel looked uncertainly at the unfamiliar device.

“A little tool gained in a trade deal that has proved most beneficial. Stand close, now.” Ba’al pressed close – way too close – reached out and activated the panel on the pillar.

There was a weird whooshing sound, a brief impression of being wound about with bands of metal, then Daniel found himself standing on a gravel path, surrounded by flowering trees and singing birds, Ba’al still pressed close behind him. He looked around and realised they had been transported. They stood halfway up the hill that fronted the palace, under the shelter of a breezeway wound about with fragrant vines. To either side, the broad path headed up and down, in front was a sizeable drop down to the city buildings and the sea. Ba’al steered him to one side, allowing the guard in groups of four to pop in.

“That’s some piece of technology,” he commented.

“It allows Our people to move about their city without the need for carriages and the like. It also keeps Our city clear of traffic and noise. It is most agreeable.” Ba’al marched off up the hill, Daniel following and once again reassessing his conceived notions of Goa’uld society. The path bent along the curves of the land, offering views of the sparkling ocean on every turn. Within a minute, another path joined it and Ba’al followed that one, leading the way to a group of houses, white painted and green roofed. Lush gardens surrounded each, brimming with flowered plants and vegetable plots. Tall trees shaded everything from the sun, which was now becoming very warm. At their approach, gardeners straightened up from their work in the beds, like so many startled deer. Many of them bowed their heads in acknowledgement of Ba’al, then stood staring as the retinue passed by.

The broad path wound past the houses and their outbuildings, many of which Daniel was interested to see were workshops filled with busy people. He wandered closer to one and stopped to examine the squat pots stacked in racks to dry in the sun. He ran a light finger over the fine clay surface of one, appreciating the intricate patterns stamped into the pot’s rim.

One of the workers approached him with a smile. “Fair day, my friend.”

Daniel looked up at the woman, dressed in light work clothes and a leather apron liberally smeared with clay. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind me looking at your work. They’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir. We strive to include a little beauty in all our work.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder and took in the company he was keeping. She looked back at him, staring a little too intently for a moment, then smiled again.

“What are these pots used for?” Daniel asked.

“We trade them to the bee keepers for the storage of their honey. Once they are glazed they will keep honey for many a year.”

“Really? What do you glaze them with?” Daniel moved along the rows of pots and followed the woman to another rack of finished pots, their shiny finish an exotic marbled green.

The woman launched into a detailed description of the sea shells harvested from the shore beyond the city, traded to dye makers who then traded the powdered dye to the pot makers who included it in a recipe for glaze that had been handed down from generation to generation.  As she talked she drew Daniel into the workshop and ended up giving him a complete tour, from the raw clay being mixed at the back of the building to the kilns radiating heat as they baked another batch of pottery. He paused for a moment, watching a young man skilfully turn a shapeless lump of clay into a thin-sided jug on a spinning wheel, and was reminded of Jack and his recent foray into pottery – and a resulting lopsided pot which now took pride of place on Daniel’s mantelpiece. He shook away the memory and followed the woman back out into the sunlight. She pressed a lovely patterned dish into his hands.

“A token of our wares, Adon.” She shyly smiled and backed away.

“Oh, that’s… thank you, it’s lovely. And thank you for taking the time to show me your workshop.” He walked back to Ba'al, patiently waiting for him with an indulgent smirk on his face. Ba'al inclined his head and resumed his stroll down the pathway. One of the guards offered to carry the little dish for Daniel, and he fell into step behind the Goa'uld.

The path continued on past houses and workshops and gardens, all resting easily under the cool shade of enormous trees. The workshops appeared to be grouped together by function: potters gave way to wood turners, wine makers were nearby to cask makers, spinners gave on to weavers who in turn led on to tailors. They passed, and in many cases stopped to investigate, gold and silver smiths, sellers blending an amazing array of herbs and spices, metal workers crafting everything from horseshoes to fine swords and daggers, jewellers with intricate fine work, glass blowers specialising in everything from window panes to bowls to tiny beads. The assortment of cottage industries was astonishing and the anthropologist in Daniel drank up the details of each and every craft and skill.

Time passed rapidly and when the shady pathway led out into an open market square, Daniel was hit with aromatic scents of cooking food, and he realised just how hungry he was. Breakfast had been a few bites choked down with a healthy dose of scepticism at Ba'al’s declaration of peace. Before that… his last meal had been a hot dog on the streets of New York with Sam.

Ba'al led him to an open air café where there were a number of people already eating the hearty fare provided by the owners. As before, people acknowledged their god as he walked amongst them, but no one bowed or flung themselves to their knees as Daniel had expected them to. Ba'al escorted Daniel to a table and they seated themselves in the shade of a large flowering shrub. Dishes were quickly brought to their table. Daniel wanted to question Ba'al about his motives for this little, well, grand tour, but the food drew him in and he was soon lost in the savoury pastries, crumbly cheese and delightful arrangement of sauces and spreads.

 Å

Half an hour later, sated and dwelling over a final goblet of cider, Daniel looked Ba'al in the eye. “Okay. Are you going to tell me exactly why you’re showing me this city?”

“It is as We said this morning, Daniel. We believe you have a certain notion of what a Goa'uld city is like. We know that Our home is unlike others you have visited. If you can see this for yourself, you may be more amenable to believing Our intention to change the way the Goa'uld interact with others, such as your people, the Tau’ri.”

“I’ll admit you have a very nice city, with nice, happy people in it,” Daniel said cautiously. “But I don’t see how you think that can change the way other Goa'uld run their empires. They follow a way of life that’s barely changed for millennia. Why would they suddenly decide that fear and oppression are not the way to go, when it’s worked so well for them? They’ll never give up the desire to control, to intimidate, to take what is not theirs.”

Ba'al tilted his head in agreement. “Such would have been true, until a few years ago. Six years and several months, to be precise.”

When Ra died. Daniel stared at him, not speaking, waiting for the rest of the spiel.

“Despite what you may believe, the Goa'uld actually prefer an ordered way of life. To have a set of rules and expectations that one’s people and allies, and indeed enemies, follow is to have certainty in life. The last few years have been constant upheavals and battles, invasions and losses on massive scales not experienced by Us in thousands of years. Our place in this universe is no longer assured and there are many amongst the Goa'uld who find this uncertainty deeply disturbing. As you have no doubt already experienced, a disturbed Goa'uld is a dangerous Goa'uld.”

“Can’t say I’m really sorry,” Daniel said stonily.

Ba'al acknowledged him with a wave of his hand. “We are aware of your own loss, Daniel. What Apophis took from you was not just your wife, but your home, your security, your peace, your future. He denied you your life. You should have had children, grown old beside your mate, seen the world around you better for your passing through it. It is – monstrous.”

Daniel curled his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to leap at the Goa'uld and take some kind of retribution for just those losses.

“Your suffering is being mirrored on a thousand different worlds, in millions of homes where the Goa'uld in charge is left to plunder unopposed.” Ba'al leaned over the table, sincerity that Daniel just didn’t believe written in his expression. “Help Us to stop this. Help Us to give all those other grieving husbands something to live for.”

Daniel drew in a breath through his clenched teeth. “Fine. Send me home. I’ll be your diplomatic liaison. We can have your people meet with mine.”

“Will your people believe you? You return home with a wild tale of a Goa'uld who wants to be friends with the Tau'ri. Without firm proof will they let you contact Us again? Or will they judge you tainted by our association with you and send you far from them, prevent you from walking through your Stargate ever again? They may even lock you away, call you traitor. We would not see that happen, Daniel.”

Daniel went cold, flashing back to the white padded room he had so swiftly been thrown into because of Machello’s little pals. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction of the military to disbelieve anything extraordinary, and showing up saying the Goa'uld wanted to be friends would certainly fall into that category. Jack would back him up, sure, well, to a certain point…. They’d call him compromised and lock him away… and could Ba'al possibly know about what happened two years ago, and be using it to threaten him now…? He struggled to keep his face neutral.

“What kind of proof are you offering?”

“A written treaty. Representation to your people from Ourselves and Our allies. We wish you to stay here with Us, familiarise yourself with Our way of life as we bring our allies together. We will arrange a meeting, on a neutral planet with the Tau’ri. We will invite the Tok’ra and any others you request. You will return to your Earth a hero, Daniel.”

Daniel arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll skip that part thanks. You really think you can convince other System Lords to join in a treaty?”

“We do, with your help. All it requires is patience.”

He struggled to keep the feelings inside him from surfacing. Were such a thing possible, it would be worth sacrificing his liberty for a while. He wanted to believe Ba'al. Desperately wanted to believe. The thought of freeing all those enslaved, of preventing even one more person from the suffering Sha’re had endured…. But he’s a Goa'uld. The thought had a distinct Jack whine to it.

“One condition.” The words slipped out before he’d fully thought them through. “Let me send a message home. They don’t know where I am, if I’m even alive. Let me send a message, and I’ll… I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

Ba'al nodded and settled back in his chair. “Agreed. We shall record a message and send it to the Tok’ra. We know where several of their operatives are currently working. Our thanks, Daniel. This is truly the beginning of a new era, for both our peoples.”

 Å

With lunch over, Ba'al resumed the tour of his city. They moved away from the houses and workshops and onto another pathway that followed the course of a river up into the hills. On either side lay orchards of oranges, groves of myrrh and myrtle trees and field upon field of grapevines, all heavy with ripening fruit. They climbed the gentle slope for some time, often passing small ponds or fountains hidden in grassy alcoves between the trees, usually with a small, roofed stone shrine next to them. Rounding a bend they came upon the marble buildings Daniel had spotted from the causeway in front of the palace.

Towering pillars supported round roofs and elegant, sweeping archways of what were obviously temples, two nestled on either side of the river amidst beautifully kept lawns and gardens. The third building rose from the rock of the hillside behind the first two, its columned entrance framing a grotto from which the river water tumbled out of an underground aquifer. This one too looked awfully like a temple.

“Three temples? That’s a bit over the top, even for a Goa'uld, don’t you think?”

Ba'al looked at him in surprise, then laughed. “No. Even We are not so in need of adoration, Daniel. Our temple is this one,” he indicated the one on their side of the river. “Our consort, Astarte, is shown her due honour in the temple over the river.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. Consort? Astarte? That was a name he was very familiar with. A major Phoenician goddess, her worship had spread from Phoenicia into Greece, Rome and even Egypt where she had been adopted in the New Kingdom. In some circles she was even associated with Hathor. Don’t go there.

“And the third one?”

“The Temple of Eshmun.” Ba'al’s voice was reverential.

Daniel stared at him. “Wait, you’re your own god. How can you have another god here? Unless… he’s your what – superior Goa'uld?” That didn’t sound right. Ba'al certainly didn’t appear to be the kind to take orders from another Goa'uld. Ba'al’s previous mention of Eshmun came back to him. Did gods have gods?

“Eshmun was… he was very important to our consort and to our people. When he died We erected this temple for his eternal memory.”

“So he was human?”

“Yes, Daniel. He was human.”

Well, this day kept getting more and more bizarre. Goa'uld erecting temples to humans? He opened his mouth for more questions but Ba'al cut him off.

“Come, please, see Our temple.”

Daniel trailed after the Goa'uld, his mind off and running. The Phoenician connections with the Goa'uld who had taken Ba'al’s persona were already strong in this city. The sea-going ships, the port city, myrrh and Tyrian purple dye, Astarte, even a number of words the townsfolk had used were of Phoenician origin, including what the lady potter had called him – Adon. Oh. He followed Ba'al between the grandly pillared entrance to his temple, barely noting the purple-garbed priests who were bowing down at their god’s approach. Adon, a Phoenician word for ‘lord’, also the root of the Greek ‘Adonis’, taken into the Greek mythology along with the myth of the beautiful young man, Eshmun - loved by Astarte, Aphrodite in her Greek guise, and tragically gored to death by a boar. And here they all were – Ba'al the overlord, Astarte the mother goddess, and Eshmun.

He dredged up what he knew about Eshmun. A lesser-known Phoenician god, his worship had been based in the city of Sidon, where he had been one of the rising and dying gods, connected with the harvest, dying in the autumn and resurrected with the spring. No wonder the Goa'uld had co-opted him for one of their own, but why was he revered here as a human? Surely such mythology was perfect for a snake wanting to show off their powers of resurrection and immortality. Daniel broke off his musings as he realised Ba'al had stopped and was looking at him expectantly.

Daniel looked around at the gathering of priests. Their purple robes brushed the floor over their bare feet as they knelt in rows along the columned hall. The inside of the temple was enormous, the roof barely visible in shadows a couple of hundred feet above them. The space echoed with murmured voices, and there was a heavy incense floating on the air, rising from brass burners set at equal distances along each wall. Ba'al captured his attention and with a smug flourish led the way through the columns to an alcove at the rear of the building. If alcove could be used to describe a room of truly epic proportions, its only feature being a thirty feet tall marble plinth, upon which rested a statue of Ba'al himself, seated with arms flung wide to embrace his worshipers, benevolent in his sixty feet high glory.

Craning his neck up and up, Daniel shook his head in disbelief. He glanced sideways at the god in human form. “Yes, very nice. Very humble. You must be so proud.”

“Indeed We are, Daniel.” Ba'al completely missed, or ignored, his sarcasm. “Our people hold us in the highest esteem. Now, come, meet Our beloved consort.”

Ba'al swept back through his temple, gesturing acknowledgements to his priests as he went. Daniel followed, realising that the guard had halted by the entrance. They fell into formation behind him, silent as ever, and he still couldn’t work out if they were there to protect Ba'al or to keep him, Daniel, from escaping. Not that he had the first clue where he could escape to.

Across the manicured lawns was a lovely little stone bridge over the river, shaded in ferns and flowering bushes. Daniel walked across it, looking down into the water that rushed swiftly over the bed of round stones. Along a path winding through the lush gardens he found himself before another monumental edifice, pearly pink marble shining in the sun. Dozens of women and men strolled through the gardens or sat in the shade of the portico. Many others moved in and out of the temple entrance, chatting happily and smiling. Music floated from inside in sensuous rhythms that caught at his heartbeat and tempted him to move in time to it. As with Ba'al’s temple a strong scent of incense wrapped around him as they approached the open arched doors, but this was even stronger, stirring his blood and muddling his senses with alarming ease.

Cautiously he walked after Ba'al, his mouth dropping open with surprise as the interior unfolded before him. Unlike the quiet solemnity of Ba'al’s temple, this place teemed with people laying offerings of food, jewels, cloth, spice or oil on the many altars dotted around the walls. Groups of musicians – all women – played different instruments and tunes that rose and melded together in the echoing vaults of the arched ceilings. As Daniel watched three men approached a woman who wore a gold circlet on her brow fashioned in the shape of a snake, which he guessed indicated she was a priestess. A transaction was swiftly arranged with a heavy clinking bag given to the priestess. She gestured the men toward an alcove where they were met by three other priestesses and with no further ado, the men striped and lay down on the cushioned floor with the women, and reverently and enthusiastically proceeded to have sex with them.   

Trying to neither stare nor look offended by the act, Daniel turned his attention to other alcoves secreted along the marble walls, and found nearly all of them were occupied with people laying together or bargaining for the favours of the priestesses. Not all the customers were male, either. He looked for Ba'al and found him some distance further into the temple, heading for a large gold door. Daniel drifted after him, soaking in the details of the temple and its occupants as they went about their daily business. It was obvious that the worship and offerings taking place here were founded on long-standing traditions, and again were of a nature that he found completely unexpected. The few priests of Apophis he had seen in action seemed solely focused on devotionals to their god. They hadn’t seemed interested in any kind of contact with the human population other than converting them into symbiote carriers. Here, humans were dealing openly and intimately with the priests.

Are they Goa'uld too? He peered at one as she poured fragrant oil into a bowl on one of the altars. Impossible to tell unless her eyes lit up. He didn’t have Junior or Sam’s Snakey Sense as Jack had labelled it, to rely upon. The woman smiled seductively at him. Like the rest she wore filmy robes that did little to conceal the voluptuous curves of her body. Her hair was intricately coiled and dressed with strands of pearls. She sized him up with one glance and tilted her head in open invitation. He gave her an almost apologetic smile and moved on, dodging around a line of ten people, dancing in a conga-line.

Others were dancing too. Barely clothed women performed sensuous belly dances, their skin rippling and undulating as they moved to the beat of drums and cymbals. A few men also danced and Daniel noted the differences between these and the… worshipers. They were very alike, slender, bare-chested, dressed only in loose pants slit to the thigh. Their skin was smooth, all hair removed except from their heads where oiled ringlets bounced and swung in time to their movements. He walked closer to one of them, almost hypnotised by the rhythmic movement of the man’s body.

“There you are!” Ba'al’s call broke his concentration. He looked up and found the Goa'uld advancing on him, his arm extended and supporting the hand of – an astonishing woman.

She wasn’t beautiful, just an average sort of pretty. Nowhere near as lovely as Sha’re. But there was an aura about her, some indefinable presence that caught his attention and stopped the breath in his throat. Maybe it was the deep green eyes, or the dark hair that glinted with shades of burnt umber, or the pale white skin that gleamed under the transparent green dress. She wasn’t slim, quite full-figured in fact. He realised her body shape was mirrored by the priestesses. Unlike the rest of the women he had seen today she wasn’t adorned with jewellery, she wore only a twisted strand of lapis beads around her right wrist. There was a scent surrounding her that made him want to reach out and…. Daniel backed up a couple of steps.

Ba'al flourished grandly and said, “Daniel Jackson, emissary of the Tau’ri, you stand in the presence of Our consort and first love, the lady Astarte.”

Daniel stared at him, not quite believing the smirk of satisfaction on the Goa'uld’s face.

Ba'al turned to the woman and his expression quickly changed to one of infatuation. “Beloved, We present to you Daniel Jackson, the young human who will help Us bring Our people to a new age of prosperity.” He smiled tenderly at her with long-held affection, then looked back at Daniel expectantly.

“Uh, um, hello.”

Astarte glided forward, her eyes pinning Daniel’s. She looked him over carefully, studying every feature of his body and face. He squirmed a little and tried to come up with something to say, but what kind of pleasantries do you say to a Goa'uld? She looked up at him, searching for something, then said in a soft voice, “Is it you?”

Well, yes. Obviously. What?

Puzzled, he looked over at Ba'al. He didn’t seem surprised by the odd question, just nodded encouragingly at Daniel.

“I….”

“It is not for you to lay with Ourself.”

Oh, boy. “Pardon?” He backed up a couple more steps and glared at Ba'al over her shoulder.

“Our Lady means that she does not expect you to lay with her priestesses,” Ba'al explained. The alarm on Daniel’s face made him explain that one further. “The priestesses are the vehicles of our Lady’s creative life. The people come to share in that life by joining with them and receiving Her blessings.”

“Oh.” And she doesn’t want me. Thank god. “Right. Nice to meet you.” He looked around, wondering if Ba'al would let him get away with just walking out of here. A hand brushed his chest, making him jump. He looked down. Astarte was hovering right in front of him. He had the distinct impression she was… sniffing him.

“Return to me.”

“Come, Beloved.” Ba'al gathered her up and turned her toward a clutch of priestesses waiting behind them. “The time draws near for devotionals.” He delivered her into the hands of the women and stood watching her retreat into the room at the far end of the temple. He looked at Daniel with a proud smile on his face. “Is she not delightful? Truly we are blessed with her presence every day.”

Daniel blinked at him. He was no real judge of Goa'uld personality, but the female just didn’t seem all there to him.

“We have much yet to see, Daniel. Come along.” Ba'al steered him through the crowd and back out into the open air.

Questions tumbled in his head as they took another path, angling upward along the river. All around they passed happy people going about their business, passing in and out of the temples armed with offerings, laughing and smiling. Their worship of the ‘gods’ seemed to be based upon a historical version of human worship with many features of the Phoenician culture still very evident. Nowhere had he seen chambers of baby Goa'uld, or even any representation of the true form of the Goa'uld. Perhaps thousands of years pretending to be human had erased any recognition of their real selves. His mind kept returning to Chulak and the priests there going about their business tending to the young symbiotes. Why is Ba'al so different?

He snuck a look at the Goa'uld, striding ahead of him, greeting passers by with a smile or a nod. “Does Astarte rule your… empire with you? Or is it a one god only set up?”

“Our Beloved Astarte rules the hearts and souls of Our people, Daniel. As she rules Our own heart, soul and body.”

How very condescending. And it isn’t your body.

“So, she has no say in the affairs of Ba'al?” A memory of Amonet at Apophis’ side flashed into his head but he crushed it ruthlessly.

Ba'al looked back at him, surprise clear on his face. “Our Beloved concerns herself with Our people, but We would never do anything that was contrary to her wishes.”

“Right.” Further questions were halted as the lush gardens gave way to another open space, green with lawns and bright with a riot of flowering plants. At the far end lay the third temple, built of a beautiful honey coloured marble and half hidden under the trees and vines that grew around it. At the foot of a stone bridge leading up to the entrance, an opening in the natural rock that the temple was built into revealed a small grotto. From it the clear water filling the river burbled out, fed by an underground spring. Tucked into crevices in the rock and spread on the grass were offerings of grains and flowers twisted into little figures. Lit candles flickered in the shady gloom. He glanced at it but his attention was captured by another garden ornament.

In the centre of the garden stood a statue, fifty feet high, burnished gold shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun.

Daniel gaped at it, finally seeing the physical icon that had been missing everywhere else in this city of Goa'uld. The figure at the centre of the statue was a male, beautifully formed, his muscles defined and the strong, clean length of his limbs attesting to vibrant life and health. His face was sweet, gently smiling under a mop of curly hair. His arms were outstretched – embracing both the sun above and the people below. It was a wonderful piece of art, were it not for the two massive snakes, entwined from either side to wrap around the man from feet to crown, their heads poised to either side of his. They faced each other, giving the impression of connivance, of possession of the man, of power barely contained. The hair on Daniel’s nape rose up in warning.

“Magnificent, is it not, Daniel?” Ba'al called, almost skipping across the grass.

“Not the word I’d use,” he muttered. He followed Ba'al, staring up at the figures with a mix of awe and foreboding. “Founded in Phoenician mythology,” he stated. “Paintings have been found of the god Eshmun standing between two snakes. It was also attributed to Aesculepius, who was probably Eshmun redefined in cities other than Sidon. It was adopted by the Greeks and in later civilizations as a caduceus, a symbol of the healing professions. Which is… ironic.”

“Ah, the Greeks! We never liked them. Always stealing Our skills, Our territories. One of the reasons We left your fair planet, Daniel. We much prefer Our home here.”

Daniel stared at him, eyebrows rising. Not since Ra had he heard a Goa'uld openly admit to living on Earth.

Ba'al reached over and latched onto his arm. “Come along, and see the memorial to Our dearly departed Eshmun.

The crowds wandering this temple were even thicker than those around Astarte’s, but here the offerings were not material. People were – gardening. Everywhere, people of all ages, from little children to the very elderly were digging, weeding, planting, trimming and tidying the flower-beds and bushes. As they walked under the grape vines entwined around the entrance pillars, Daniel could see that the interior of the temple resembled an enormous hot house. The roof was clear glass, supported by decorative steel trusses fashioned as tree limbs. Below, the entire floor was given over to nature. Beds of vegetables and flowers fronted taller bushes groaning under the weight of massive blooms. Ranged along the walls were full-grown trees, lending their shade to the ferns and uncountable plants beneath. Dirt paths wound through in random directions and a small creek burbled along, feeding small ponds and miniature waterfalls. The air was heavy with the scent of fertile earth, pollen and a pure freshness that revived the flagging energy that Daniel had not even registered.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Truly a fitting testament to Eshmun. His life and death brought such great fertility to this land that it has never waned, in all the time We have been here.” 

Suddenly tired, Daniel wondered just how a human’s life or death could achieve such a thing. “This is all very impressive, Ba'al. I’d be very interested in hearing the story behind your involvement with Eshmun.”

“Ah, it is a tale that deserves a proper telling, Daniel. We would not do it justice to tell you now. Perhaps you have walked enough today? We do not wish to tire you as we have much to discuss and plans to oversee for a dinner We wish you to attend tomorrow night.”

“Dinner?”

“A celebration to welcome Earth’s emissary to Our home.”

“That’s not necessary, considering the method of fetching me here.”

“And it is for that reason We wish to fete you, and apologise for the way you have been treated. Also, We wish to introduce you Our consorts and Our retinue.”

Daniel felt a chill run up his back. He really hoped that didn’t mean more Goa'uld.

“Now, let us return to the palace and enjoy a quiet meal.” Ba'al strode off, leaving Daniel no choice but to follow behind.

Outside once more, he caught up to Ba'al standing on the lawns. From the foot of the statue they had a magnificent view of the city, stretched out down the hillside, green and blue roofs dotted amongst the trees. The river ran beside them, escaping from a large pool to tumble down the hill, here and there filling other ponds and pools until it emptied into the sea. Daniel could see the ships in the harbour, the castle gleaming orange in the light of the setting sun. It all looked so peaceful, so – friendly. He desperately wanted to believe Ba'al’s story, to know that the people living here were doing so of their own free will.

Maybe they are. Maybe this really is the true foundation of Goa'uld power. All this commerce, transport systems, agriculture – it depends on a base of people willingly living for their god. Perhaps Ra’s home world, wherever it was, was more like Tsydon. Abydos was never like this. The Abydonians provided the raw materials that allow a city like this to thrive. They were slaves, they could rebel and be replaced. They lived in slavery and served their purpose. But a home world like this… the people have to give their lives and their love freely for it to prosper like this.

Teal’c…. He was based on Chulak, but Apophis didn’t live there. All those years of searching for Sha’re and Skaara, we never found his home.  He was secretive, like Ra. His home world was hidden, even from his First Prime. The Jaffa manned his ships and fought his wars but they were never allowed on the home world. Little wonder – if it was like this they would have rebelled thousands of years ago.

Which brings us back to Ba'al. He’s showing me all this now. Why? Is he really serious about peace?

What are you plotting?

Daniel followed the Goa'uld down the hill, his thoughts churning, unease and uncertainty settling on him like doom.

Å

~Tsydon~ Home page

Chapter Three - Dinner with devils

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Temple of Ashtar in Faqra by Victor Haddad