Immortal Brothers Of Carthage

The world changes but man himself doesn't change, believe me on that one. No matter how much time passes, or how many awesome technologies are discovered, lost and rediscovered, humanity shall never change. And neither shall I. My name is Abimilki Maharbal, although I go by Abe these days. A lot of people I meet nowadays think it's short for Abraham, and after a while, I stopped bothering to correct them. Let them be, I say.

In the City of Boston, Massachusetts, which is full of people of all hues, I'm just another face in the crowd. And I love it. I'm studying law at Suffolk University, for the American legal system has begun to fascinate me since my resurrection. I have over two thousand years worth of learning to catch up on since I escaped from the tomb where my own brother buried me, eons ago. The world has changed since I was trapped, and it's more fascinating and complex than ever.

I'd like to think that I'm adjusting fairly well to life in modern times. Carthage is far away and a long time ago, but I remain. I'm six feet tall, lean and athletic, with long black hair, light brown skin and golden brown eyes. In today's day and age, I've been called everything from biracial to mulatto or just plain old African-American. In my mind, I am who I've always been. A citizen of Carthage, the last great civilization of the ancient world.

I was born in the City of Carthage, crown jewel of the Carthaginian Republic, around 800 B.C. My father Sahama originally came from the City of Axum, Ethiopia, and my mother Ayzebel Maharbal was born and raised in the Capital region of the Republic of Carthage, to a wealthy Phoenician family. In those days, the Republic of Carthage was a great power in this area of the world and had peaceful relations with Mediterranean and Indo-African powers. I am the son of two worlds, East Africa and Tunisia, as it were.

I led a fairly normal life for the first thirty years of my existence, attending the Royal Academy of Carthage, the school attended by the princes and sons and daughters of the nobility. Now, you modern folks might wonder about what life was like for such as I, born of a tall, dark-skinned father from East Africa and a short, slender, bronze-skinned and raven-haired Tunisian mother. The ancient world was far more progressive along racial lines than today's world, this I swear.

People from a variety of African kingdoms and Asian nations traded with the diverse and enlightened Carthaginians, and these people sometimes intermarried. The Carthaginians weren't just traders, warriors, artisans and statesmen, they were a thoroughly civilized bunch, traveling from Europe to Africa, Asia and the Mediterranean realms, acquiring goods and spreading their civilization and knowledge wherever they went. They were respected, and feared, by many.

My father Sahama was a merchant, traveling from Ethiopia to Tunisia, and the day he met my mother Ayzebel, he knew down deep in his heart that she was the only woman for him. As a wealthy young Ethiopian princeling, he'd done business with Carthaginians and knew of the legendary fairness of their women. Ayzebel affected him like no other. Relentless he pursued her, and they eventually got married and had little old me, along with my brother Zaracas.

Zaracas and I were born of truly unique parentage, to be sure, and Fate, like the cruel mistress that she is, had much in store for us. We were oddities of nature, my brother and I. You see, the night we were born, there was a celestial event. A meteor shower which generated a bright light which flashed across the Tunisian sky, dazzling the hell out of the locals. They praised the Gods, for in those days, they viewed celestial events as a good omen.

When Zaracas and I came into the world, our mother, like the eccentric woman she was, insisted on giving birth on the same hill where she was born. As it happens, the first time we opened our eyes, we saw the meteor shower. Judging by its effect on us, it was no ordinary meteor shower. We grew to manhood as ordinary men, albeit sons of a wealthy and powerful and politically connected, decidedly influential family.

The meteor shower affected Zaracas and I, and these changes became evident as we grew to manhood. We could do extraordinary things. Although only six feet tall and weighing approximately a hundred and eighty pounds, I could lift close to ten times my body weight, if not more. I also recovered quickly from any injuries that I sustained. I was like the Hercules that our Greek allies often spoke of in their drunken rants, a man endowed with extraordinary powers.

"You and your brother were blessed by the Gods," said our trainer, Xaxos, marveling as I stood in the atrium near our father's villa, and lifted a stone bigger than my whole body with an ease that three stronger men wouldn't have managed. I was barely twenty years old at the time, and quite slender, come to think of it.

"I will only use my power to defend our beautiful homeland of Carthage, my friend," I said to Xaxos, then I tossed the stone away, and gently laid my hand on his shoulder. A short, stocky Grecian gentleman, Xaxos had served in the Carthaginian military beside my father, shortly after he married my mother and did the duty of every Carthaginian male and defended our nation in times of war.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders and a good heart, Abimilki, I just wish your brother were more like you," Xaxos said, and we left the atrium and went for a walk about the nearby marketplace. My mother's forty-sixth birthday was coming up and I intended to surprise her by buying her a rare jewel or something to that effect.

My parents villa sat atop a hill, about two kilometers from the City of Carthage's walls, and it overlooked the nearby ocean. We had a lovely house, one large enough for five families, come to think of it, with walled gardens and magnificent stables for our well-bred horses. We had servants who dwelled in modest quarters near the villa but kept no slaves. My father detested the practice of slavery, which he has seen much of in his time as a tradesman.

"Zaracas isn't so bad, he's just headstrong," I said to Xaxos, who smiled and shook his head. Last month, while at a tavern, my twin brother Zaracas got into a fight with some traveling merchants over some bad joke, and he accidentally killed a man. Only my father's wealth and connections spared him the punishment that would have befallen any man who accidentally killed another. Any other man would have had his right hand cut off. Zaracas walked away, unscathed, because the Courts found in his favor when he claimed self-defence.

"Abimilki, your brother shares your blood and your unique talents but he lacks your good heart and good judgement, he's only twenty and has already killed a man and felt no remorse for it, I shudder to think of what he will do next," Xaxos said, somewhat angrily as we approached the tent of a jewel salesman, a stocky Thracian named Xhanatos.

"My young prince, I have such fine jewels to show you," Xhanatos said, and I smiled at Xaxos, who cautioned me, and then I took a look at Xhanatos jewels. I found a bright red ruby which I knew my mother would like, inspected it and then bought it for sixty Punic coins, and hastily hid it in my leather pouch, then Xaxos and I returned to the villa.

Xaxos words haunted me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was right. Visually identical, Zaracas and I were radically different in personality and temperament. I have a love of learning, and was fond of collecting books. I bought books about science, religion, medicine, the arts and a variety of other subjects, from kingdoms, empires and nations far and wide. I learned African history from the Axumite library that my father kept in his study.

One day, I endeavored to explore the motherland of Africa and other distant lands. As much as I loved the Carthaginian Republic, my home, I yearned to travel and see the world. I knew of the Ethiopians, the Greeks, the Iberians and others. I had seen fierce, sharp-featured and wickedly intelligent men from the Chinese realm, who came to Carthage to trade, and their knowledge astounded me. One day, I would very much like to visit this forbidden land that they call home.

"Hello dreamer," Zaracas said, startling the hell out of me as I sat in our father's study, sitting on a plush couch and sipping some wine by the light of a lamp as I read a book about an ancient Egyptian king named Menes, supposedly the first modern ruler of the world. The arrival of my brother stunned me, for with my acute hearing, another one of our shared gifts, I should have heard him coming.

"Greetings brother," I said, and shook Zaracas hand, and as usual, he gripped me tighter than I deemed acceptable, and tried to crush my grip. Of course he couldn't, for we were a match in strength and speed. Always had been and always would be. I smiled at Zaracas, who wore a bright red and black tunic which contrasted sharply with the yellow and white tunic I wore.

"Abimilki, don't you tire of reading these books? I've just received confirmation from Admiral Baal-Haan that I'm to be elevated to the rank of Captain after helping our naval forces put down that skirmish in Sardinia," Zaracas said cheerfully, and then he sat next to me and described, at great length, the sheer pleasure he took in killing Sardinian men and women during that last climactic battle where our Carthaginian soldiers crushed their foes.

"I'm happy for you, my dearest brother, but I'm afraid war doesn't interest me," I said, and Zaracas shook his head, then snatched the book out of my hand. For a moment I was worried he might tear it apart, I wouldn't put something like this past him, but Zaracas simply put the book down, and smiled coldly at me.

"Damn it, Abimilki, you're as strong as I am, if you fought by my side, the Carthaginian Navy would be invincible," Zaracas said, and he shook his head, sighed deeply and then, quite surprisingly, rested his head against my shoulder. Something he used to do all the time when we were little. I wrapped my head around Zaracas shoulder and shook my head.

"You are a warrior, Zaracas, and I, Abimilki, want to become the greatest scholar the world has ever seen," I said, and Zaracas laughed merrily, and then looked around the huge stacks of books in our father's study. Zaracas doesn't spend much time hitting the books, even though he's as smart as I am. Mother nature, or something, gifted us in many ways.

"Aye, let it be so, I'll conquer the world in the name of glorious Carthage, and you, my dear brother, will write about it and make sure our family name lasts through the ages," Zaracas said, and I nodded. Grabbing me by the shoulder, Zaracas half-dragged me to the kitchen, where a roasted boar awaited. I looked at my brother, stunned by this discovery.

"I killed it myself this morning with my bare hands, let us feast my brother," Zaracas said, and I nodded hesitantly. We sat down and ate, and Zaracas told me about his growing prowess in the Carthaginian navy, and his desire to get married and start a family, a revelation which I found quite shocking since Zaracas doesn't think much of the institution of marriage.

"Zaracas, you've bedded every tavern wench in this city, and half of the noblemen's daughters, who is this woman you wish to marry?" I asked, laughing and quietly mocking Zaracas, who smiled at me in a way he never had before. A change came over his face, and he leaned back in his chair, finished the piece of meat he'd been eating, belched and then answered me.

"The lady who stole my heart is Sophoniba, daughter of Prince Carthalo," Zaracas said dreamily, and my heart sank when those words left my dearest brother's lips. I smiled sheepishly at Zaracas, and tried to be happy for him, and when I saw tears of joy in his face, I knew that I couldn't bear to reveal the awful truth to my brother.

"I am happy for you, my brother," I said to Zaracas, and he smiled and hugged me fiercely, then asked me to stand beside him at the wedding. Apparently, he'd already gone ahead and asked Sophoniba's father for her hand in marriage, and the old man agreed. Apparently, I was always the last to know, when it comes to such things.

What's going on, you may ask? Well, it's a long story but I'll try my best to shorten it. Last summer, while visiting our paternal uncle Alias in the City of Tyre, I met a woman whom I shall never forget until the day I die. If I ever die, that is. Sophoniba, the daughter of Prince Carthalo, the head of one of Carthage's most powerful families. On that fateful day, I was headed for the royal library of Tyre when I saw her.

"The legendary scholar is certainly far from home," said a loud feminine voice, and I turned around and gasped, for a vision of absolute womanly beauty stood a mere meter from me. Tall, curvaceous and absolutely lovely, with long black hair, bronze skin and the most mesmerizing golden eyes, Sophoniba was something else.

"Greetings my lady, I am here to study for the summer," I said, with a curt bow, and Sophoniba laughed, and linked her arm with mine, and just like that, we went for a walk about the crowded marketplace of Tyre. I knew her back in Carthage, for her father had a vast library on their family estate which I loved to browse through on my frequent visits. I knew that Sophoniba's family owned property in Tyre, but I was surprised to see her there. Pleasantly surprised, I might add.

"My dear Abimilki, you've always fascinated me, you know," Sophoniba said to me, a few nights later, as we lay in bed together in my family's rented villa, away from prying eyes. I dismissed the servants, and we had the place to ourselves. I looked at the beautiful naked woman who lay next to me and smiled, delighted in her smell, her look, her essence. We'd made love many times, and I couldn't get enough of her.

"Do tell," I said, laughing, as Sophoniba rolled on top of me. I smiled and gently caressed her lovely face. My hands went to Sophoniba's large, firm breasts, and caressed her round, firm derriere. I saw a look of passion and intensity in her lovely golden eyes, and an urgent need. Without another word, Sophoniba and I resumed making love.

"An intelligent man with untapped wickedness within, all you need is the right woman to let it out of you," Sophoniba said, and my hands went to her hips as she straddled me, and my hard cock went into her tight, wet womanhood. Sophoniba cried out as we resumed fucking, and I thrust into her. I wanted Sophoniba like no woman before, or since.

Sophoniba's passions knew no limits, and neither did mine. At some point, I took her on all fours, delighting in the sight of her big, beautiful bronzed butt cheeks staring at me and swinging like twin pendulums of temptation. I caressed them, then thrust into Sophoniba's cunt from behind. Gripping her wide hips tightly, I thrust into her. I delighted in hearing my lady love cry out my name as she yielded to my manly thrusts. We made love with wild abandon, until the wee hours of the morning.

"You're a unique woman my dear," I said to Sophoniba as I woke up next to her, and she smiled at me. Although we come from different worlds, Sophoniba has always understood me. I am a man of letters, the consummate scholar, but I am also a man of action and of passion. What use is all the knowledge in the world if one doesn't use it to make a difference?

Justice is something which I absolutely believe in. I have argued in the High Court of Carthage, before our rulers themselves, for fair treatment of the peoples of the lands we conquer. I have defended the rights of women, and non-Carthaginian minorities living in our fair cities. I am more than a bookish fop, I practice what I preach. Sophoniba and I share a passion for books and social issues, among other things.

"You and I would be one hell of a power couple in Carthage society circles," Sophoniba whispered in my ear while resting her head against my chest. I smiled and kissed her forehead, temporarily dazed, as much from the lovemaking we'd done and the idea of the two of us living together, as man and wife, for all the world to see.

"Sophoniba, the Gods above made you beautiful and intelligent, above anyone else I've ever met, and if I had you for my wife, I'd never leave the house, but we both know your father would never permit one such as I to marry you," I said evenly, and I was actually shocked when Sophoniba slapped me, and rose from my bed, covering her naked body with the sheets.

"Abimilki, if you won't fight for me, you don't deserve me," Sophoniba said, with tears in her eyes. I stared at her, my heart breaking. When she took off, I didn't have the heart to go after her. In those days, like today, I had much to learn about the female of our species. I should have gone after Sophoniba, begged her forgiveness, stepped up like a man and asked her father Prince Carthalo for her hand in marriage. But I didn't. Woe is me.

All those memories came rushing back when my brother Zaracas told me that Sophoniba had agreed to marry him, and that her father Prince Carthalo of Carthage's noble houses had no objections. I stood by, hapless, as the only woman I've ever loved married my twin brother. Whether Sophoniba did this to spite me, or because she truly loved Zaracas, I'll never know.

It has often been said that every lie is exposed in due time, and mine was definitely no exception. My brother Zaracas and Sophoniba got married at a lavish ceremony in the Temple of the Goddess Astarte, and then, for their honeymoon, as you modern folks would call it, they went to the City of Tyre. Oh irony of ironies, wouldn't you say?

The fateful day came when my brother Zaracas discovered my duplicity. The beginning of the end for me was when Sophoniba confessed to Zaracas the fact that we'd been lovers, and indeed had spent several days together in Tyre, away from our families and friends. Predictably, Zaracas didn't take this revelation too kindly.

"Abimilki, you are my brother, I love you but you've betrayed me, slept with my woman and hurt me like no other soul on this earth ever has," Zaracas said to me, right before he severed my head with his sword, then hacked my body to pieces and buried me in a metallic tomb which he then hurled into the ocean, off the coast of Carthage.

"Brother you don't understand," those were my last words to Zaracas before he butchered me. I was slain by my brother, and slaughtered in much the way he slaughtered that boar which we feasted on in the kitchen of our father's villa, so long ago. For thousands of years, I lay in my watery grave at the bottom of the ocean, enduring a living death.

You see, the meteor shower which we were exposed to changed my brother Zaracas and I at a cellular level. Indeed, it made us very different from everyday humanity, endowing us with extraordinary powers. Superhuman strength, enhanced speed and sharp senses, along with an accelerated ability to self-heal, those were but a few of the powers which we possess. Zaracas thought he'd killed me, but I regenerated. I am whole, and healthy, as if nothing had happened.

From 730 B.C. to 2011 A.D. a period of 2741 years, I lay in that watery grave, alive, but unable to escape. Time passed, and everything and everyone I knew is gone. The Republic of Carthage became the Carthaginian Empire, and that was destroyed by the Romans, those puny bastards weren't exactly a great power in my time but I guess they beefed up. The land of Carthage is now called Tunisia, and it has changed from a cosmopolitan imperium inhabited by people of all colors to a xenophobic and largely homogenous Islamic republic.

My tomb was found by American divers off the coast of Tunisia, and I owe my freedom and my life to these kind folks. I saw it as a sign from above that I had been freed by a rather unique couple, Tyrone Winston, an Afro-American civil engineer from Atlanta, Georgia, who was vacationing in Tunisia with his Italian-American schoolteacher wife, Adriana Baccelli. They reminded me of my parents, who were of course long dead.