A tired smile creased Soulai’s face.
“That’s it?” Habasle exclaimed. “Nothing to say?”
“Take care of Ti. He made his own mark tonight,” he said, thinking of the stallion’s bravery.
Whether Habasle heard his request, Soulai didn’t know, for his master was busy untying a bag at his waist. Finally he handed it to Soulai. “Here,” he said. “There’s more than enough to buy your freedom.”
Stunned, Soulai felt the weighty bag settle in his upturned palm.
Habasle turned to go back to the crowd, still clutching his side. “I suppose I could take you with me,” he said, “but you don’t follow orders.” He hurried off, close to skipping with his hitching gait. “And you can’t swim,” he hollered back in the growing dark.
Soulai’s smile widened. He watched the boy whom he’d once hated rejoin the revelry, then continued his meandering walk. He felt lost, shapeless as a lump of clay. In the past, he’d always turned to his clay when he needed to work something out, but those days seemed gone. He thought briefly about going to the stable, but he couldn’t bear to look at the empty tether and know that Ti might never return to it. So his journey led him aimlessly up and down steps and across terraces and past the room he had shared when he first arrived at Nineveh. He peeked inside. It was empty; they were all on the palace steps, no doubt. He ambled past the kitchens, inhaling the aroma of fresh loaves.
Sometime later he found himself standing outside the royal library. Beneath the bright moonlight the masterful carvings of war leaped from the building in stark relief. There were the men on camels…the people jumping into the water…the horses galloping across the battlefield. Soulai reached out and stroked the forehead of one of the horses.
“What will happen to the stallion, you are wondering.” The voice made him jump. It was Naboushoumidin, who emerged from the shadows to stand at his side.
Soulai nodded. He pressed his fingers hard to the stone.
“He is pursuing his rightful destiny. As you are yours.”
“Mine?” Soulai croaked.
“Habasle has set you free, yes?”
Soulai felt his head nod again.
“And so your own feet have carried you here, to the carvings, a place of great significance. I remembered from talking with you that you see our city, and especially our horses, through the eyes of an artist. And I have long wondered if your hands can follow your heart.” The scribe stepped close to the panels and reverently laid his palms over the raised images. “Do you realize that years and years after your tongue and mine and those of Assyria’s next twenty kings are but dust, these scenes will continue to tell the stories?” He looked over his shoulder. “And there is yet another story—an important one—that needs to be told, don’t you agree?”
At first Soulai didn’t follow the man’s words. But then the crisp figures of the sculptor began to come alive beneath his fingertips. He moved his hands in slow circles to touch the bulging muscles, the concave flanks. His fingers traveled over the crevices describing water, the ridges outlining the mastiff’s ribs; he rubbed the knotty coils of the lion’s mane. And he remembered the satisfaction of creating life between his hands.
He turned to Naboushoumidin. His breath was coming quicker now. Could it be possible that…?
The man threw back his head and tossed forth a deep laugh that boomed across the vacant courtyard. When his eyes met Soulai’s, they fairly crackled with animation. “Battles always bring new stories, and so we are beginning a new series of panels on the library’s eastern wall tomorrow morning,” he said. He glanced at the bag dangling from Soulai’s hand. “You have choices.”
By high sun on the same day as Habasle and Ti rode off to war, a messenger was dispatched to a mountain village carrying a bag of silver. Soulai was seated in the shade of a makeshift canopy that stretched along the eastern side of the library. Under the watchful eyes of a master craftsman, he was carefully chalking out the lines of the panel’s first scene: a full-moon night when the king and his son announced impending victory for Assyria. Between them reared a brave, parti-color stallion, mane waving in the wind. Lovingly, Soulai sketched the broad forehead, the flared nostrils. A solid sense of worth filled him; he had found a new home. And whatever Ti’s fate might be, he, Soulai, would make sure the horse was remembered forever.
Glossary
Ab the Assyrian month equivalent to late July/early August
Adar the Assyrian month equivalent to late February/early March
amulet a small object used to ward off evil or injury
annakum a metal, probably tin, traded by Assyrian merchants
aqueduct an elevated structure to deliver water from a distant source
ashipu a priest
Ashur the chief of the gods in Assyrian mythology
asu a doctor
bas-relief a low-relief sculpture
bee-eater a type of bird, very colorful
bitumen a tar-like substance
chalcedony a type of quartz
coot a type of aquatic bird
crupper a strap fitted under a horse’s tail to keep a saddle or harness in place
cylinder seal a small cylinder, often worn around the neck, carved with a design used to make an impression in clay
darter a type of aquatic bird
Dur Sharrukin a city built by an Assyrian king but abandoned after his death
Ea the god of water and of wisdom in Assyrian mythology
Elul the Assyrian month equivalent to late August/early September
emmer a type of wheat
Enlil the god of wind in Sumerian mythology
Gilgamesh an epic poem and one of the earliest known works of literature
hobbles a shackle-like restraint fastened around a horse’s ankles to prevent him from running off
Ishtar the goddess of battle and of Nineveh in Assyrian mythology
jackal an animal similar to a wild dog
kiln an oven
lamassu a guardian figure, especially the large half-man/half-animal statues at entrances
lapis lazuli a blue gemstone
lintel the horizontal beam at the top of a doorframe or window
mastiff a large breed of dog
Medes an ancient people who, with the Babylonians, eventually sacked Nineveh
Naboushoumidin the chief librarian in Nineveh
Nergal the god of the underworld and of death in Assyrian mythology
Ninurta the god of the hunt and of war in Assyrian mythology
parti-color a pinto horse
Pisces a constellation; also a sign of the zodiac known as “the fish”
qasab a giant, grasslike plant
sarcophagi plural of sarcophagus, a stone coffin
Sebat the Assyrian month equivalent to late January/early February
sedge a grasslike plant
Shamash the god of the sun and of justice in Assyrian mythology
sharqi a severe dust storm
shekel an ancient unit of weight, or a coin equal to that weight
Tammuz the Assyrian month equivalent to late June/early July
ti a Sumerian word meaning “arrow” or “life”
Tisri the Assyrian month equivalent to late September/early October
Tyrian purple a highly prized purple-red dye
underworld the realm of the dead in Assyrian mythology
uridimmu a half-man/half-mad dog or lion creature
wadi a stream or streambed, often dry
About the Author
Diane Lee Wilson has been in love with horses since the age of three when she was “soundly kicked on the shin by a carnival pony.” She spent her childhood as many young people do: reading and dreaming about horses and riding as often as possible. While studying toward degrees in fine arts and English at the University of Iowa, she worked each summer at a professional stable in Texas, learning how to train and show horses. She now lives outside of San Diego, California.
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To Ride the Gods’ Own Stallion Page 18
