Had I struck her, she would not have flinched more. She rolled onto her back, her throat grasped with her hands, croaking. “Ah, I had forgotten how you hate me.”
I was clothing myself, anticipating her rage, expecting to be thrown from the house. But Daduhepa fought tears, not wrath. So I said, “Ask me why.”
“Why, Tasmisarri?” she whispered thickly.
“Because it is not safe, that is why. Because three of my men have come home bloody from fights in the street with those who hope to become a hero by killing one, and because neither the Meshedi nor my relatives have forgotten me.”
“Hattusas loves you. Your men are heroes.”
“Hattusas is a harlot; with all the blood we spilled for her, we bought only a moment of her time. Things brew in the palace, ferment in the streets. Tuthaliyas does not think like a man, but like wine. If anything happens to me, I prefer it not to happen before my children’s eyes.”
Springing up from the bed, she embraced me, telling me that things would not always be thus. “Soon you will be king, and –”
“Do not ever say that. Do not even think it. I value my life, even if you care nothing for yours.”
Now, I have said that men whom I did not know sought my company – that we were fêted in Hattusas – and we were. But the harvest of high-repute is sweet only at first, and can become deadly. Hattusas was still the same city as had bred Tasmisarri – and if some folk loved me awhile, more were spiteful behind my back.
The wedge of men whom I brought down from Samuha were waiting when I arrived home from Daduhepa’s, all crowded into the front room while a sleepy Titai in one of my robes padded among them, serving beer and a pungent hot brew.
Hattu-ziti, my second-in-command, had been sitting by the stable in the cold to catch me alone, so I did not walk into it unwarned, but met him first: “Are you counting snowflakes?”
“Tasmisarri, my lord, we have trouble.”
“Who was it this time?” As I have said, my men were heroes to some. The reaction of a woman of the nobility to a hero is fleeting but passionate: women had been the cause of most of those altercations which sent my men home bloody and battered – a cuckolded lord unsure of his chances in court; a desperate suitor facing off his competition. I expected nothing more.
What Hattu-ziti told me made my exaggerations to Daduhepa seem the mildest of devaluations: “The Meshedi jumped Mammali and four others in a side street, something about being rowdy. Mammali is the only one who came back.”
I turned away from him and went in, not even asking whom we had lost. A head count told me. My men crowded round, all twenty-five talking at once.
“Are they dead, Mammali?” I demanded, shouldering my way through to him. He was somewhat battered, but he would survive. I crouched down beside him, thinking of a time I had taken an arrow in my arm reaching him up into my car when his had overturned. He had lost an eye in that engagement. If he lost his other, which it seemed to me he might, he would be a bowl-carrying mendicant. His condition and the deaths of those four men were my responsibility as surely as if I had hired Sutu to perform the deeds myself. Hattusas treated my men like she had always treated their master – they got my due, in the streets.
He mumbled, “My lord, I did not run… I foxed them. All the rest – dead… sure.”
I said, “Titai, make my bed ready. Lupakki, Hattu-ziti, carry him in there.”
When that was done, I bade them be seated and when they were quiet looked them over slowly. “Welcome to Hattusas. I grew up here. I’ve told you before those who cultivate you have a reason; all others seek your blood. Now, who knows the identities of the foul Meshedi responsible for this?”
“I do,” said Lupakki, reentering the room. He was a big hulking youth, the only man there younger than I – a cold and deadly plotter, but a berserker in the field. “And I claim the honor of offering their heads, one per night for ten nights, to Istar as sacrifice.”
“Sit down, and listen well. All of you, harken! We’ll draw straws for the honor of smiting them. I only retain the right to tell you when,” I said firmly into the mutter swelling around me – none would take exclusion from the avengers lightly. “From this day forward, do as I bid: not less than four men together, whenever you’re in the streets; billet with each other – no man sleeps alone, henceforth. I’ll see if I can’t find someplace that will hold us all. Who among you has looked past your immediate reaction and seen what has happened here?”
“The Meshedi jumped Mammali and –”
“I expect better from you than that, Hattu-ziti.” He shook his head.
“This is nothing unexpected,” growled Lupakki. “I have had men call me out for being yours. My lord prince, the people… they don’t like us, some of them.”
I laughed. “You’re right but you’re too polite. They don’t like me, and they’re taking it out on you. Certain of my family drink blood with dinner. But this is a bold move. Meshedi… I’d feel better about it if they went to the trouble of pretending that some hero-hunters got the best of us.”
Suppositions were voiced as to why they had not. I let them work it out. When Lupakki summed up the consensus that we’d be fools to go after the culprits now, when we were expected, I applauded him.
Then we drew straws for the ten Meshedi, and when the long-straws were decided, they accepted their tasks before the Oath Gods. I did not get one. But I cared not.
I spent the time until dawn working out various Meshedi traps, and impressing on my men the need to stay together. I divided them into units and assigned watches – both for my own house, and at either end of the quarter into which I compressed them: two men had houses on the same street, and two more on alleys adjoining. They were good men, receptive enough to moving in together, and to all my suggestions, for they had realized this night that the city waged war on them. From then on, Hattusas was a campaign.
The next day I sought out Tuthaliyas when he was sober and secured a loan. I went to see my brother Zida, who was in the Meshedi. Then I dispatched three messengers from the palace: one to my mother; one to Himuili, one to my uncle, Kantuzilis, requesting an audience. The letter to Ziplanda, would take time to deliver, due to the inclement weather. But my uncle had come north to commune with the Great King and make assessments upon his illness, and by first night-watch call I had an invitation from him in my hands. From Himuili I expected no answer, and he did not disappoint me.
When middle night-watch rang out I was in a lower-city inn, unobtrusively settled in a corner, listening. Disobeying my own orders, I had come alone, grimy-robed over a full panoply of weapons. In my pouch I had ten minas of silver, more money than I had ever had on me at one time in my life – enough to buy a herd of horses. But horses were not what I was buying, and the money was part of what Tuthaliyas had advanced me against my share in the coming season.
The establishment I had chosen was ignominious even among those infamous holes making up the foreigner’s slums which cluttered Hattusas’ skirts. I was watching with interest as one man split another’s skull over a harlot. The fight was over in moments; the dancing girls did not even slow their whirling.
Summoning a serving wench to me, I allowed I would buy the victor a jar. There were, perhaps, ninety men in the sunken L-shaped tavern, and she went off to seek him. The man who showed at my table, hesitating, undecided, had a head shaved all over but for a long braided lock growing above his right ear, which was notched. He weighed perhaps a fifth again as much as I. “Sit, Sutu,” I suggested, and, just then the girl came with the jars.
Still standing, he put his fists around one jar and, drained it, smacking his lips. I signaled the girl for another.
“What would you with me, young Hittite?” he whispered – in an attenuated voice, whose timbre was in no small way related to the white, narrow scar encircling his throat – and sat, folding his arms on the table.
As I casually pushed the candle from between us, I let my robe fall open. His eyes r
ested on the bronze ax glinting at my belt, then met mine frankly. “I said, what would you with me? Was that asp some kin of yours?”
I chuckled. “I am seeking Sutu, a number of them. I offer steady employment through the winter and a place with the armies come the season.” One reason such men wintered in Hattusas was hope of mercenary work when the weather eased; the other was that we had no extradition policies with the southern lands. This Sutu was from far south, perhaps Libya.
“At what wage, my lord Hittite?”
“Twelve shekels hire, plus whatever the army will pay. And if, in due course, any man should accidentally kill someone for whom a person is required in payment, I will provide the person.” It was a more than generous stipend.
“What are you planning, a revolution?”
I sat back. “You really don’t expect me to answer that, do you, Sutu?”
First he rubbed his face, then grunted as if just seeing the second jar, then downed it. “I am Hatib.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.
“And are you interested, Hatib?”
“It is winter,” he shrugged. “There are not many good men in the city, and those subsist in deplorable poverty, undernourished, sleeping in doorways.”
“For what I propose, I would have to have control of where the men billeted. And it will not be the lower city.”
He twisted in his chair, surveying the room, turned back. “How many men, and what do you want me to call you, my lord employer?”
“I am Tasmisarri.”
He swore by Kubaba, and his face opened up in a gap tooth grin. “I fought you when I was in Gasgaean pay. I was lucky to come away with my life.” His smile fell away. “I see why the hire is so generous. I can tell my men that they will fight under you in spring? It will help.”
“Tell them that, then. This, too, will help.” I unhooked my pouch and threw it between us on the table. I was taking a chance, giving a Sutu that much money. When he opened it, his breath whistled. He stirred the silver with his fingers. “How many men?”
“Twenty-five at the least, thirty at the most. Keep the difference yourself, as contractor. But they must be very good men, and capable of taking direction.”
He pushed the pouch toward me, just a little.
“I’m not sure. When would you want them?”
“The most I can give you is two days.” In my turn, I nudged the pouch his way, telling him the time and place I would expect him, then called for my bill.
“You’ll leave me this money, all of it?”
“I said so. Do not ask me things twice. I can find you, if I need to. And if I need to, this time you will not escape with your life.” With that I left him, sucking his thumbnail and staring after.
Soon after, I woke Daduhepa and used her, a precaution in case she had not yet caught, and told her to get ready to take the children to Arinna. She only argued until I explained I was moving fifty-odd men into the estate, half of them Sutu. I left her debating what she would need to put the long-closed Arinna house in order, humming to herself and making a great show of not being afraid.
Upon reaching my house I sent Hattu-ziti out to Daduhepa’s with four men and more of Tuthaliyas’ money, to examine the defensibility of the place, determine what was needed to turn the stables into billets, lay in such supplies as he saw fit; I told him to make no secret in the market of what he was about.
In the midday I slept fitfully and awoke to find Titai softly weeping against my shoulder. For a time I tried to pry from her the reason for her tears, to no avail. Annoyed, I told her I had enough troubles at the moment, and her eyes were like a doe’s when the shaft pierces true to its heart. And I was sorry, and wondered again about her history, and how she had come to be in Gasga.
But then my men started drifting in, and I was busy with arranging the moving of them to Daduhepa’s, and eyeing the sky and the streets and wondering about a certain sharp-faced Hatib.
He came sauntering down an alley at sunset, having somehow eluded my watchmen. But they stopped him there and brought him to me at sword’s point.
“Ah, my lord employer,” he sighed, “your men have captured me, more’s the pity. And you stand by watching, not telling them I am your most devoted servant. Lord employer, do you not trust me?”
“Let him go, Lupakki. You men, sheath your swords. Sutu, you’d better show them how you got in here. Noble lords, this is Hatib. If you are nice to him, perhaps he will give you Sutu lessons.” Lupakki growled some excuse.
“Never mind it, there will be more Sutu coming. Now that you’re warned, perhaps you can catch sight of them before they get this far. But be gentle, they’re ours.” I sent them back to their posts before bringing the Sutu into the house, where we discussed what success he had had, and I informed him that his first task in my employ would be to deliver my wife and sons safely to Arinna despite the season. As we made clear the details of that, other Sutu appeared by twos and threes, until fifteen of them stood about the big room. I was busy enough committing names and faces to memory, and assessing what Tuthaliyas’ silver had bought me, and answering my own men’s questions on the relocation, and did not think to wonder why Titai had not extended the hospitality of our house to my motley, multi-racial crew of brigands – until Hattu-ziti came in, calling out explosively for drink. When she made no answer, I went to look for her.
I found her in our room, where Mammali snored in my bed. She was under it, trembling like a newborn foal, curled up, staring blankly through eyes puffed nearly shut with weeping. Since I could get no response from her, I dragged her out by the ankle. When I let her go she curled up again.
“Titai, I have twenty men out there. What is it? Are you sick?” I touched her. She only whimpered. So I picked her up and carried her into the better lit main room, both to examine her and avoid waking Mammali, who needed what sleep he could get.
Crossing the threshold, she began struggling wildly in my arms, making a noise like a throttled scream. Every other sound in the room ceased while the men cleared a space in the middle of the floor. She struggled violently, even biting me as I lay her down. “Hattu-ziti, hold her arms. Lupakki, watch that foot” We held her, but she only struggled harder.’
“Let me see the little lamb. Let me see.” It was Hatib. When he squatted by her she went stiff, her eyes rolled up in her head, and she passed out.
“Now what demon’s work is this?” muttered Hattu-ziti.
“Demon’s work, or man’s?” I snapped. Then, to Hatib: “Do you know this girl?”
“Oh no, my most respected employer, I know her not.”
“Any of you?” The Sutu, to a man, answered that they did not. “I have to see to her. If you have questions Hatib cannot answer, ask Hattu-ziti. And know that I am pleased to have you. At sunrise, be at work on your new lodgings.”
With mumbled leave-takings in dialects spoken from the Niblani Mountains to wretched Kush they drifted from the room.
“Here.” Hattu-ziti handed me a jar of wine.
“Water would be better, and some cloths.” I pulled open her eyelids, let them close. Then I picked her up and carried her into Hattu-ziti’s little alcove and lay her on his narrow pallet and sat by her. Neither wine nor water aided, and somewhere in that endless night I fell asleep, still sitting there.
The next evening when I arrived at the palace enclosure for my audience with the prince, my uncle, Kantuzilis, I had five chariots supporting me, three men to a car. The watch had been told to expect me, and waved us through into the labyrinthine palace enclosure. We clattered by many buildings, into the area in which Kantuzilis had his apartments, across a paved court from the house of the Gal Meshedi, the chief praetorians.
“Now remember what I have said, Lupakki: if the Meshedi should challenge you further, have them send for my brother Zida. And if he should come and disclaim you, or in any way even hint at treachery, make sure he is the first to die.”
“And if you do not come out by mid-watch call, we are to
come in and get you.”
“If you can.”
“We can,” he said grinning widely.
I clapped him on the shoulder and slid out of the car, wishing I felt as confident as he, that my mouth was not dry, that my limbs did not feel as if I had borrowed them from a stranger.
As the demon-gate guards passed me in, I smelled goat cooking, and heard the far off droning of an Old Woman. Then two high officials chasing a mouse tore by me in the corridor, and I knew that the purification ritual engaging the help of protective demons was being performed in the palace: Tuthaliyas was ill indeed.
Once they were gone, I was alone with the slap of my footfalls and the sick taste of fear. When my father yet lived, my pale uncle had taken my pet falcon – a wise, trained bird – and impaled her upon his organ while he wrang her neck unto death and I was forced to watch. That was not the worst he had done to me, when I was too little to do anything about it. And I felt little, then, as I passed through his personal guard and into his suite.
“Ah, Tasmisarri, my dear boy. Or should I say, ‘Favorite of the Storm God’?” he had been talking with his face averted, peering out the window. Letting the curtain fall, he turned slowly toward me. More gnarled than ever, he was, his back more bowed, his joints more swollen. Those pale eyes went slowly over me from head to toe. “My, we have become a handsome young man, have we not?” The doors closed at my back. “What is this, outside? An invasion?”
“That is up to you, pederast.”
“Tsk, tsk. Sit down,” and, hobbling, he obeyed his own command.
I leaned against a pillar, refusing the chair he offered. “Call your Meshedi off my men, now.”
“My Meshedi? You always were dull-witted.”
“Your Meshedi, now that there is no commanding Gal Meshedi and Tuthaliyas lies abed.” The Great King had had the last chief of praetorians executed, and appointed no successor.
“How is your mother? I have not seen her since –”
“Kantuzilis, four of my men are dead, another may lose his sight. I’m paying in advance for the ten of your men my avengers will dispatch.” I threw a pouch into his lap. He winced. Behind me, the curtains rustled – and behind him, in the corner of the hall, I caught a similar disturbance.
I, the Sun Page 11
