Hello and welcome to this exclusive piece of original fiction here on Track of Words – The First King of All the Earth, very kindly provided by the wonderful Edoardo Albert. Author of the historical fiction trilogy The Northumbrian Thrones, Black Library novels Silent Hunters and Kasrkin, and non-fiction titles Warrior: A Life of War in Anglo-Saxon Britain and The Perfect Sword: Forging the Dark Ages (with Paul Gething), Edoardo is a fantastic writer, and I’m a big fan, so it’s a real delight to be able to publish an original story of his. The First King of All the Earth leans a little more into the historical side of things than straight SFF, but I can definitely see a little fantasy in there too, and I really loved reading it. I hope you will do too!
Keep reading after the end of the story for a little insight from Edoardo into the roots of this great little story.
“You must build a tower, a high tower, a staircase to the sky, here, where I fell, and from the top of this tower reach up and put me back into the sky”
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It was the morning of the world and the night of a day. The shepherd lay listening to the land between the two rivers exhaling the noon-tide heat, to the grumbles of his sheep and the rhythm of their chewing. Pillowing his head upon his hands, the shepherd looked up upon the stars. Thus watching, the shepherd saw a star fall from heaven and, getting up, he ran towards where he saw it falling, falling, falling. Like a fish in the great rivers, the shepherd dived towards the star as it fell and he caught the star and, cushioned in his hands, the star did not shatter upon the stony earth but landed, gently, whole.
The sheep bleated and grumbled but, for once, the shepherd did not hear them. Trembling, he saw light shine between his fingers and he opened his hands. The star shone: intense, concentrated, cold. The shepherd had no words for it, for he had never seen a jewel, cut and polished, glittering and glowing, for such things were not yet made in the morning of the world.
The shepherd, suddenly scared, put the star down upon a rock, and looked up to the dark hole in the sky where the star had been, then back to the star, and he made obeisance to it. When he raised his forehead from the ground, he saw a young man, glowing with light, the most beautiful young man he had ever seen, and the young man said to the shepherd, “What is the name of this place?” and the shepherd, who on account of his trade was unused to speaking with people, answered, “Er …” and the star said, “Ur.”
And so it was.
“There is war in heaven,” said the star, “and I have been cast down by my enemies.” The young man stepped towards the shepherd who squatted upon his heels, staring up at the star. “You must put me back,” the star said to the shepherd.
“I do not know how,” said the shepherd.
“You must build a tower, a high tower, a staircase to the sky, here, where I fell, and from the top of this tower reach up and put me back into the sky, lest my enemies triumph and the sky become dark.”
“But how can I build such a tower when I am only one man?” asked the shepherd.
“You shall make other men follow you and do your bidding. Place me upon your brow, and men will think you a god, and follow you, and do what you say.”
With the star upon his brow, the shepherd went to the gathering of the tribes at the meeting of the two rivers, and the people there did obeisance to him. The shepherd, who had ever been ignored before at the gathering of the tribes, was glad that they did him obeisance, glad with a fierce, cold gladness. And he told the tribes to follow him to Ur, there to build a tower to the heavens. Gathering their flocks, and their tents, and their children, the tribes followed him to Ur.
And when the grass was exhausted and the tribes came to the shepherd to say they had nothing to eat, he told them how to cast seed upon the ground and reap it, and eat, to have enough and more besides, as the star told him.
The tribes settled, building houses of brick in place of their tents of skin. But in the centre of Ur, rising towards the sky, was the tower. This was where the shepherd lived, with the star upon his brow, only he was a shepherd no longer but the first king of Ur, the first king of all the earth, and the morning of the world was past.
The people of Ur built the tower, labouring to raise it to the sky. When the work proceeded too slowly, for there were never enough men, the king of Ur told the men of Ur to go out into the surrounding country and to take from the tribes who still lived in tents their young men and their boys, and to bring them to Ur, that they might help build the ziggurat.
Each night the king of Ur watched the war unfold in heaven, and each night stars fell. But the stars fell to earth in distant lands. And though the star commanded the king to have the men of Ur keep watch for fallen stars when they went, on their chariots and in their columns, among the tribes, yet the king made no mention of this to his soldiers. For he considered what would happen if another man arose, with a star fixed to his brow, and called the tribes to his service.
The first king of all the earth watched the ziggurat climb higher and each night, be it the balm of summer or the cold of winter, he lay beside the tower and watched the slow, quick movement of the stars, and the waxing and the waning of the moon, until it seemed that the tower touched the very arch of the sky.
Then the star said to the king, “Climb the tower and place me back in the arch of the sky.”
But the king was loath to put the star back in the heavens, and he made excuse not to do so. First, there were too many clouds, then the stars were not aligned propitiously, then the moon was too bright, or the night too short, until, finally, the star blazed bright in its anger.
“Put me back in the sky,” the star ordered the king, and the king made obeisance to the star.
“Tonight, I will climb the tower and put you back in the sky,” he said.
The king called all the tribes together and ordered them to gather around the ziggurat. As night fell, they gathered, men beyond number, standing in silent darkness beneath the innumerable stars. And the king of Ur, the first king of all the earth, climbed the tower until he reached the arch of the sky. Then he took the star from his brow and held it up, reaching, reaching, reaching for the arch of the sky.
But he did not let go.
And the star said to the king, “Why do you not let me go?”
And the king said to the star, “Without you, they will not follow me.”
And the star laughed, and its laughter was light.
“I have given you the world. They will follow you, now and always.”
But still the king did not put the star back in the sky.
“I want to come with you,” he said. “I do not want the world; my heart desires the stars.”
And the star said, “You cannot follow me now, but the desire of the stars shall be in your heart and the hearts of your descendants through the generations until, one day, you will leave this flat earth and follow me.”
Then the king placed the star in the arch of the sky and came down from the tower. And there was a great sadness upon his face, such that the tribes bowed before him that their eyes might not behold his sadness. The king went out, into the wild places, away from the lights of Ur, and remained there many days, until the people, watching through the night, saw other stars fall and, fearing lest the heavens go dark, the people brought the king back to Ur and seated him upon the diamond throne and followed him until he died, the first king of all the earth.
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The First King of All the Earth copyright © 2022 by Edoardo Albert
Edoardo Albert is a British writer of Italian and Sri Lankan descent. He writes about Britain in the early medieval period (between the Romans leaving and the Normans arriving), the 41st millennium in the Warhammer universe, and lots of other things besides. He enjoys hearing from his readers via social media (@edoardoalbert on Twitter and @edoardoalbert.writer on Instagram)) or directly through his website.
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Huge thanks to Edoardo for generously contributing this great story as part of the Track of Words Advent Calendar 2022. I hope you enjoyed reading it! If you’d like to know a little more about where this story came from, here’s Edoardo with a little bit of background:
Edoardo Albert: As some of you will know, I wear another hat as a historian and writer of historical fiction. One of the enduring mysteries of history is why our ancestors moved from the nomadic, pastoral lifestyle that had sustained humanity throughout its existence. There are many theories, and many possible reasons, but while all these ideas are probably necessary for the shift to civilisation, I don’t think they are sufficient to account for such a fundamental change. Adopting Donella Meadows’ analysis of the leverage points required to change a complex system, only the first leverage point, a complete change in the religious outlook of a society, can account for a change as momentous.
Couple this with the early civilisations’ obsession with the calendar and the motion of the stars, a visit to a truly dark sky (the coast of Argyll in Scotland) and the realisation of what an overwhelming sight a truly dark sky is, and the idea came to me, like the falling of a star, that one of those stars had indeed fallen and, having fallen, wanted to go back.
Edoardo’s latest novel Kasrkin is out now – check out the links below to order your copy:
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Thank you for giving this story a home, Michael! And it’s a great picture you’ve chosen to illustrate it – may I ask where you found it?
Thanks for letting me publish it! Really glad you like the image – I generated that using Midjourney. I’ll email you the original so you can see the whole thing!