by Sam Barone
“Maybe I’ll join you,” Grond said.
Eskkar knew his bodyguard hated walking as much as he did. He also knew that Grond would not allow himself to ride while his commander walked.
“You’ve trained them well, Gatus,” Eskkar said. “Now I want at least five hundred more of them to start, maybe more if we can find enough men, each as strong and well trained.”
“Five hundred! I was expecting to train only another hundred or two.”
“You’ve got one year, Gatus, that’s all. When they’ve completed their training, you can pay them the same as the archers. You were right. These men are going to be the core of our strength. Keep training them until they can march and fight in their sleep.”
Trella estimated it would take at least one year before a new threat from Sumeria materialized, more likely two. But Eskkar knew it was always better to prepare for the worst.
Gatus shook his head. “Spears, swords, shields, helmets, sandals, pay, not to mention food, ale, whatever, it’s going to take a lot of gold to support so many men. Not to mention time and work to train them.”
“You’ll find a way, Gatus. And the gold will be coming soon from the mine at Nuzi. Ask Trella about the training and weapons, too. She’s always full of ideas. Oh, I forgot to ask. Can these spearmen stop a charge of horsemen?”
For once, Gatus was at a loss. “I’m not sure about that. We’ve never tried anything against cavalry tactics.”
“Well, you’d better figure out a way. Spearmen are no use to me if a few hundred mounted riders can brush them aside. Sumer will have plenty of horseflesh, and I’m certain we’ll see all of it sooner or later.”
Eskkar smiled at the frown on Gatus’s face. Catching the old soldier off-guard didn’t come easy. “Come, Grond. We need to get back to the house. Gatus has plenty to do to get ready for tomorrow’s march.”
With the Hawk Clan guards leading the way, Eskkar and Grond left the barracks. Gatus remained where they left him, deep in thought. Eskkar knew the old soldier wasn’t wasting any time worrying about tomorrow’s march. His subcommanders could handle those simple preparations. No, Gatus would be wondering how to stop a mounted charge. Still, if anyone could think of a way, Gatus would come up with something, though Eskkar was willing to gamble that Hathor would be involved in the solution.
The following night, Eskkar blew out one of the two candles illuminating the chamber and eased himself down onto the bed with a small grunt of relief. His back hurt, his feet were blistered, and his face still burned from the heat of the sun. The bed’s softness cradled him and he let himself relax with a groan of relief.
“You shouldn’t have marched with the men,” Trella admonished. “Turn onto your stomach and I’ll rub your back.”
“In a moment. I’m too tired to move. But at least I led the men out this morning, and back this evening.”
“I watched a few days ago as Gatus led them through their drills. They looked very efficient, very dangerous.”
He hadn’t known she had visited the barracks training ground. Leave it to Trella, to want to learn something new. Only a few dozen villagers were allowed in, mostly soldiers or the wives of the more senior men. Of course, she had blended in with the women, no doubt with Annok-sur at her side.
“Gatus had an easy day, since he rode out and back.” Eskkar let out another groan of satisfaction, glad to be off his feet.
“As you should have done. The men wouldn’t have thought any less of you for riding.”
“I wasn’t carrying a spear or a shield. And by walking with them, I got to know them. I spoke with every man on the march, and I’ll remember at least a dozen names. It was a day well spent.”
He reached up and touched her breast. Her nipple hardened and he smiled at the sight. He liked arousing her, joining with her passion.
“First, roll over,” she said, ignoring his attention. “I want to practice my massage.”
Eskkar turned onto his stomach and cradled his head in his arms. Trella knelt with her knees on either side of him. Her hands pressed hard against his back as she leaned forward, fingers probing deep into the muscles.
“Ahhhhaa,” he said, giving a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure. “Is this more of what Zenobia taught you?”
Zenobia was the woman who operated Akkad’s most famous and luxurious pleasure house. Trella had befriended her when she arrived, alone and vulnerable. After the Alur Meriki were driven off, Trella gave Zenobia the gold needed to buy and operate the house. Now the finest pleasure girls served the choicest wines to Akkad’s leading merchants. The strong drink loosened their tongues, and everything they said reached Annok-sur’s ears. Only a few of Eskkar’s closest circle knew of the relationship.
“Oh, yes, we all practiced on each other, especially on Tammuz and En-hedu. I can still see the blush on his face.” Trella’s hands, which had started kneading her husband’s lower back, moved up to his shoulders, each new movement eliciting a further moan of pleasure.
“Zenobia has a slave girl named Te-ara,” Trella went on, “who is well-practiced in the art of massage. Zenobia brought Te-ara to Bisitun to teach En-hedu the secret art. I traveled with them, to watch the training and see what I could learn for myself.”
Eskkar knew that she had gone north to Bisitun for a few days, near the end of En-hedu’s training.
“When I left, En-hedu had learned a dozen new ways to pleasure her husband, sometimes with Zenobia and Te-ara and me helping.”
“I’d blush, too, if four naked women were fondling my manhood day after day.”
Trella laughed. “We spilled his seed so many times, he begged for mercy. His eyes went wide with fear when we approached. Zenobia and Te-ara drained his poor member so often, he could scarcely walk afterwards.”
“He probably enjoyed every moment. Does he still care as much for En-hedu? Or did Zenobia and Te-ara steal his love?”
She laughed again, and moved her hands to the muscles across the top of Eskkar’s shoulders. “He cares for En-hedu more than ever. I’ve seldom seen a man so smitten with his woman. He would die for her, and she for him.”
“I wonder how they’re doing in Sumer. Have you heard from them?”
“No, nothing, but it’s too soon. They may not even have arrived there yet. Besides, it will take them many months to settle in and figure out what is happening.”
“And if they’re discovered?”
“Then that will tell us something as well. It will tell us that King Eridu is wiser than we think, that his men are quick to guard his secrets.”
“Tammuz and En-hedu will die slow deaths.” His voice drifted lower, as the effects of a long day and Trella’s ministrations began to take effect.
“They know the risks, husband. They both want to fight for you and for Akkad, and this is the only way they can.”
“And Yavtar vouches for this merchant . . .”
“Gemama. Yes, as best he can. When the war comes, even Gemama may be of use to us. I think you should turn over now, husband, before you fall asleep.”
She moved off his back, and he wearily rolled over, another long sigh of relief escaping from his lips. Before he could protest, she cupped his manhood in both hands and began to massage it.
“I may be too tired for that,” he said, letting his eyes close. But his hand reached out for her breast once again.
“That’s what Tammuz kept saying. Let me show you what Zenobia taught us for such times.”
In moments he was rock hard and gasping at her grip. Satisfied, she moved astride him with a sigh of pleasure. “See how easy it is to arouse a man.”
Wide awake now, Eskkar thrust himself upward, feeling the heat from her body. “You are still the most beautiful woman in Akkad.” Then he could say nothing as she twisted her body, tightening her muscles and grinding herself against him on and on, until his heart pounded and his seed burst inside her.
Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, he had just enough strength to whisper
in her ear. “You are the only woman for me, Trella.”
She understood how hard it was for him to say such words. “And you are the only man for me.” She kissed his neck, pressed herself against his shoulder, and held him until he fell asleep.
18
Five days later . . .
In Sumer, in the days before King Eridu died, Tammuz and En-hedu found each sunrise bringing some new challenge. The city of Sumer no longer resembled the sleepy trading village that bordered on the Great Sea. In the last five years, the city had grown faster than any other village in Sumeria. People from all over the region migrated to Sumer in search of a better life.
The steady influx of people had greatly added to King Eridu’s wealth. During his rule, he fed Sumer’s inhabitants with dreams of conquest and easy wealth. Over and over, Eridu assured them that only the city of Akkad stood in the way of Sumer’s greatness and prosperity. Once that barbarian-ruled city was swept aside, gold would flow to Sumer’s inhabitants from all the cities and villages of the land between the rivers.
Even as an outsider, Tammuz saw how Eridu’s stinging defeat had humiliated the people of Sumer. Dreams of conquest had vanished, replaced by a sense of gloom and worry about the future. Everyone now feared attacks from the north. Eskkar and his demon archers would invade and devastate Sumeria. Villages and crops would burn, farmers murdered in their sleep. The gods had turned their back on Sumer and its people. A feeling of dread replaced the giddy excitement of Sumer’s soldiers and its people.
After King Eridu’s ransom and return from Akkad, fresh rumors of a new war were on everyone’s lips. He increased the already heavy burden of taxes. Eridu One-hand, as many called him, remained full of rage and hatred for all things Akkad.
He seldom left his private quarters, and those few whose business took them into his presence reported a man seething with hatred and bitterness. Word soon spread that he wanted to create another army and take his revenge against Eskkar and Akkad. Once again, Eridu’s soldiers searched the lanes and alleys looking for any able-bodied men to conscript. More than once patrols stopped Tammuz on the street, until they saw his crooked arm.
Despite Eridu’s yearning for another march north, the mood in the city remained sullen. In Sumer’s defeat by Lord Eskkar, many men had died or been wounded. Neither the survivors nor the city’s inhabitants had any stomach or desire for more battles, not against an enemy that had done little or nothing to arouse them. Eridu’s claims to the contrary, most people cared little for the borderlands that until recently had been ignored and untouched by any of the southern cities. Faced with the prospect of another war, many men and older boys left the city. Those that remained did their best to avoid the lanes and marketplace, unwilling to be forced into the training camps by Eridu’s roaming gangs.
All this fascinated Tammuz, but he and En-hedu had plenty to keep them busy. As soon as they purchased the inn, they moved in and almost immediately trouble started. The following day, some local thugs decided to take advantage of the new owners, young and fresh from the farm. Three men entered the little tavern in the late afternoon and demanded payment for protection, as they called it.
The inn was almost empty at that hour, and the few patrons present, recognizing the men as troublemakers and thieves, scurried out as fast as they could.
“You’re new in Sumer, cripple,” the leader rasped, a burly man who carried plenty of muscles on his arms and chest. “You’ll need someone to make sure your inn is safe. We’ll take care of that for you.”
A scar marked his face, long black hair hung greasily around his face, and he was missing a tooth. The combination gave him a fierce expression that he used to intimidate those weaker than himself.
“But first we have to collect payment for your protection. One silver coin. Pay us now, or I’ll break your good arm.” He fingered the knife in his belt for emphasis, while his two companions smiled broadly at the new owner’s apparent helplessness. “After that, you’ll pay us the same every ten days, or you’ll find someone has pulled the inn down on your heads.”
From their private chamber, En-hedu took a step into the common room. The three men’s heads turned to give her a brief glance, but she stood there speechless, her hands crossed above her breasts. The gesture allowed her right hand to slip inside her dress and reach the haft of her knife.
Tammuz had expected something like this, though not on their second day. He took two steps back and to the side, so that En-hedu would be almost behind the three men.
“Why should I pay you anything?”
The one with the knife stepped forward. “Because if you don’t, you’ll wish you were back on –”
But Tammuz used the backward steps only to draw the man forward. Now his foot lashed out with all his strength, striking right between the man’s legs with a swiftness that caught all three by surprise.
With a howl of pain, the leader clutched his groin. By that time En-hedu had slipped up behind the two henchmen, snatching the knife from beneath her dress as she moved. With muscles as strong as any young man’s, she struck downward with the weapon’s hilt on the back of the nearest thug’s head. He dropped like a sack of grain, caught unaware by the unexpected attack from behind.
The third man, still watching open-mouthed as his leader crumpled to the ground, reacted slowly. First he fumbled for his knife, then turned toward En-hedu as his companion collapsed on the floor, but by that time Tammuz, who had never stopped moving, closed the gap between them. Before the rogue could draw his weapon or even decide what to do, Tammuz had his own blade out, and he smashed the hilt into the man’s face. The thug stumbled backward, tripped over a stool, and crashed into a table before sliding onto to the floor.
Meanwhile, En-hedu slipped behind the leader, hunched over in pain from Tammuz’s kick, and struck again. This time the butt of her knife landed on the side of his head, and he lolled on the dirt floor of the tavern, too stunned even to groan in his pain.
The encounter had taken only moments, but Tammuz found himself breathing heavily from the brush with danger. “Better fetch the watch, before someone else sends for them,” he said, a grim expression on his face. “I’ll see what they’re carrying.”
“I hope none of them are dead.” She reached out and touched Tammuz’s arm for a moment, her eyes still wide with excitement. For the second time in their young lives, they had fought together.
“They’re breathing,” he said, glancing at the leader to make sure. His wife had struck with all her strength. The last thing Tammuz needed was a dead body on their hands. No matter what the reason or excuse, it would bring down too much trouble on their heads. Newcomers such as themselves couldn’t risk offending anyone, not until they were well established and known. But a few bloody heads meant nothing, he hoped, at least not to Sumer’s guards.
While En-hedu darted out to find the city’s watch, Tammuz went through the men’s things. Two of them had nothing of value, except for their knives. He tossed those into the darkest corner of the inn. He might be able to sell them for a few coins later. The leader’s purse held nine copper coins, a respectable amount for even an honest man. Tammuz collected his knife, too, and pitched it after the others. By then the leader had begun to recover. He groaned, and attempted to sit up, but slumped back to the floor, too dazed to move or grasp what had happened.
Tammuz slid his knife back into its sheath. He grasped the man’s right hand, placing his thumb on the back of the hand, and his fingers on the palm, just as Hathor had shown him. A quick twist, and the man’s wrist snapped. That brought another gasp of pain, but by then Tammuz had his knee on the man’s chest. He drew his knife again, and placed the point against the rogue’s throat.
“Move and you die,” Tammuz said. Not that he intended to kill the man, but the thief wouldn’t know that. Tempting as it might be, cutting the man’s throat would cause more problems than it cured, and might even generate ill will from the man’s kin or friends.
He remai
ned on the man’s chest until En-hedu returned with two guards from the watch, both of them breathing hard. She must have made them run through the lanes.
“What’s going on here?” demanded the older of the two. He had at least forty seasons, and wore a sash of red across his shoulder that proclaimed him a leader of ten.
“I told you! These men tried to rob us,” En-hedu blurted out, her hands again clutching her bosom in her excitement. “They came in and demanded all our copper, or they would kill us.”
Tammuz rose. The leader of the thieves, his eyes filled with pain, tried to speak. Tammuz glanced down and kicked him in the ribs.
“Maybe you attacked them?” The younger guard said, his eyes first taking in the men on the floor, then settling on Tammuz. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Keep your mouth shut, fool,” the leader of ten ordered. “Do you think a man and his wife are going to attack three men? Besides, I know these scum. Thieves, all of them.”
“May I speak with you?” Tammuz said, bowing respectfully. He tilted his head toward the darkest corner of the inn and fingered the purse in his hand.
The older guard turned to his companion. “Watch them.” He followed Tammuz across the room. “My name is Jarud. What do you want to talk about?”
“Honored guardsman.” Tammuz used his humblest voice. “We have just purchased this inn with Merchant Gemama’s assistance. We are his clients and under his protection. It may be that, until we’re better known in the neighborhood, we might need extra protection from the city’s guard. Perhaps you or your men could stop in from time to time, even enjoy a cup of ale with our thanks.”
Tammuz held out his hand, with the purse taken from the thugs. “This would be for your trouble, Jarud. And each week, I might be able to give you another copper coin. And I should have some girls in a few days, to repay you for your help.”
The guard took the little sack of leather and hefted it, trying to guess how much it contained while he considered the offer. “Mmmn . . . everyone knows Merchant Gemama. A good man, or at least as good as any grasping trader can be. If you are one of his clients . . .” He made up his mind, no doubt influenced as much by the weight of the purse in his hand as Tammuz’s claim on Gemama’s name. “I’m sure we can stop in now and again. And your name is . . . ?”
