by Sam Barone
“En-hedu, this is Tammuz, your new master. You will obey him as if he were your husband. He needs your help, so I ask that you do all you can to assist him.”
The girl looked at Tammuz shyly, showing a hint of apprehension at meeting a new master. She bowed awkwardly, then dropped her eyes to the floor. Tammuz seemed at a loss for words.
The sight touched one of Trella’s vivid memories. She remembered a night not that long ago when she had been handed over, still crying, to her new master. Fear had rushed over her, fear of the unknown. That was the emotion a slave felt the most, fear of the stranger who had the power of life and death over you. Trella walked over to En-hedu, took her hand, and placed it in Tammuz’s good hand.
“Be good to En-hedu, Tammuz.” Trella looked at Gatus, who nodded and put his arm around Tammuz’s shoulders.
“Time to let Trella get her rest,” Gatus said with a yawn. “I’ll take you back to the alehouse.”
By the time Trella finished with the chamber pot, midnight approached, and she had only a few moments to wait before Annok-sur pushed open the door and guided Zenobia into the room. Trella rose as Zenobia approached the table. Once again, the simple gesture had its effect.
Throwing back her hood, Zenobia bowed very low, as Annok-sur closed the door behind them. Now they could talk privately, three women discussing things men should never hear.
“I thank you for coming, Zenobia,” Trella said. “You are well?”
A woman of perhaps twenty-five seasons, Zenobia had deep black hair, large brown eyes, and a round face offering fine, delicate features.
Trella remembered how Zenobia had looked months ago, wearing a rough shift and with smudges of dirt covering her face. Frightened and bearing marks of ill treatment, Zenobia had done everything she could to make herself look unattractive. An unprotected, beautiful woman would have been quickly taken into some man’s house, never to emerge. Zenobia needed a benefactor, somebody to protect her and make sure she was not enslaved again. Trella had provided that protection.
Zenobia came from a land far to the east and had traveled many weeks before arriving at the village. She hadn’t been in Akkad long, arriving only a few days before the siege of Akkad began. Shortly after her arrival, she had met Trella by chance during one of her walks. Zenobia’s story had been both sad and unfortunate, but it created yet one more opportunity for Trella.
Raised as a pleasure slave since childhood, Zenobia had grown skillful at satisfying men. She’d pleased one of her patrons so much that he bought her and set her free. Despite his feelings for Zenobia, the patron saw a chance for gain and decided to establish his own pleasure house in the bountiful lands to the west. With Zenobia’s help, he had purchased three slave girls to help launch the business, hired a small caravan of guards and animals, and set forth, determined to reach Akkad.
They journeyed for over a month, crossing the eastern mountains, and would have reached Akkad in a few more days. However, the patron had become thick with wine once too often and abused his guards. Tired of his ill treatment, they plotted with one of the local bandits. Together they attacked the caravan and killed the patron and his servants before turning their attentions to looting the pack animals and enjoying the women.
By then Zenobia had escaped in the darkness, running for her life, leaving the other girls to their fate. Morning found her miles away, having lost all her possessions except for a few silver coins sewn into her dress. It had taken her three days to walk to Akkad, avoiding the roads for the first two of those days for fear she would encounter the murderers or new robbers. A woman alone, especially an attractive one, would be at the mercy of anyone she met.
She reached Akkad in safety. Without a patron, Zenobia found work in one of the taverns, cleaning tables and providing sex to customers, and splitting her fees with the innkeeper. Encountering Trella one afternoon in the marketplace, Zenobia had impulsively told her tale, and the captain’s slave had immediately sensed an opportunity.
Trella gave Zenobia a few copper coins and told her to find a decent inn where she could sleep safely at night. It hadn’t taken Trella long to figure out how Zenobia could become an ally, assuming any of them survived the barbarians besieging the city. From time to time, she sent Annok-sur to give Zenobia more copper and to tell her to be patient a little while longer.
The siege had ended more than two months ago. Now the time had arrived.
“Zenobia,” Trella began, “I’ve thought a great deal about you and your plight. It occurs to me that we could be of great help to each other. To serve my husband, I need someone who can gather information from the rich and powerful in Akkad. With your experience and skills, many men would whisper their secrets to you. If you are willing, I can provide protection for you and help you open a house of pleasure here in Akkad.”
Zenobia’s eyes went wide at the prospect as doubts rushed to her lips.
“Mistress Trella . . . is such a thing possible? To furnish a pleasure house with trained women would take much gold, and a strong man would be needed to oversee such an establishment. And there are the other brothels and alehouses to compete with.”
“I am not talking about just another brothel, Zenobia. Nor will there be any competition. I want you to establish the finest pleasure house in the land, and fill it with the most expensive women and the finest furnishings. I have a strong protector in mind, and he can provide men to guard the house and your women.”
“Who would this protector be, Mistress Trella?”
“Gatus, the captain of the guard, will be the official owner of the house, Zenobia. He will provide a soldier or two to keep order, as well as a scribe to record all the profits and expenses. He will take one-tenth of the profits, and I will take another four-tenths.” She watched Zenobia’s eyes grow wider. “The rest would be yours alone. There will be no man to take your share.”
“But, mistress, much gold is needed to start such a business. A large house would have to be found. Girls must be recruited and trained, furnishings bought. Fine wine and exotic foods must be available. There is much that . . .”
“I’m glad you understand how difficult it will be, Zenobia. But I have considered all these things as well. To start, I will loan you twenty gold coins, more than enough to buy a good-sized house and furnish it properly. It will probably take another ten coins before you are fully established, especially if you begin your search for girls at the slave market. I’m sure there are plenty of women in Akkad who would be willing to work for you in the beginning—and for very little.”
Trella paused for a moment, to make sure Zenobia understood her words. “If more gold is needed and all is proceeding well, it will be provided. Six months from now, you will begin repaying all the gold loaned to you at the rate of three gold coins each month. That is in addition to our regular profits. You will have to work very hard to make sure you are successful, and there are other conditions as well. Are you interested, Zenobia?”
The woman’s head bobbed up and down with excitement. “Yes, of course, mistress, I am very interested. What else must I pay?”
“You need pay nothing further. If you work hard and the house is successful, you should be able to repay all of the loans within two years. We would charge you no interest on the loan, Zenobia.” Again she paused to let that information sink in. “You would be required to train the girls, teach them the love arts, and make sure they learn how to please their customers. Can you do that?”
“Oh, yes, Mistress Trella, I have been well trained myself, and I’ve trained new girls for many years.”
“There is one more thing, Zenobia, and this is the most important.”
Trella shifted her position on the chair to look directly into the woman’s eyes. “Your establishment must be the best house of pleasure in Akkad. It must be the one place where all the rich and powerful men come to amuse themselves. They will come for your women, they will drink too much wine, and they will talk about many things. You will instruct your g
irls to report all that they hear only to you, and you will pass it all on to Annok-sur or myself. And you must do more than just listen. You and two or three of your most trustworthy women must learn to extract as many secrets as possible. You will reward those girls according to how much information they gather.”
Zenobia opened her mouth, but Trella continued on, her voice harder now. “That is why we do this, to gather information, not because we wish to make a profit in a business arrangement. You must make certain that no one learns of this. No one. Only Gatus, and the three of us. If any of the girls refuse to obey, you will take whatever steps needed to make sure that they do.”
“I . . . understand, mistress. It shall be as you say.”
“Make very sure you understand me, Zenobia. You will tell no one what you do with the information, and you will keep silent about me. Also, you will guarantee that none of your girls tell anyone, especially their customers. They must understand the penalty for careless talk. As must you. If you fail, then you will be removed. Since you will not officially own any part of the business, you would simply disappear. So you will have great incentive to remain loyal and faithful.”
Zenobia swallowed nervously but didn’t hesitate. She had been in the village long enough to understand Trella’s meaning. To “disappear” in Akkad meant a splash in the river in the dark of night. “I will be loyal, mistress. None will learn of our arrangement.”
Trella smiled at her, then reached out and gently took her hand.
When she spoke, her voice sounded soft and pleasant again. “I am glad, Zenobia. If you do this, in a few years you will be rich and respected. Starting tomorrow, you will meet with Annok-sur to begin the planning. You will report only to Annok-sur or myself. When you have listed all that you require and have an idea of the cost, we will begin buying what you need.”
“Yes, mistress. Thank you, Mistress Trella.”
“One more thing, Zenobia. If you hear anything about Korthac or his men, anything, you are to get the information to us at once.”
“The Egyptian? Yes, of course.”
“Then we are agreed.” Trella pushed back her chair and stood. “You will start tomorrow. If all goes well, in a few weeks you will have the finest pleasure house in Akkad.”
Zenobia stood also and bowed again, this time so low that her hair brushed the tabletop. “It will be as you say, Mistress Trella. I will learn all the men’s secrets for you. I promise it.”
“Then we will both prosper, Zenobia.”
Annok-sur stood also. “Zenobia, it’s too late to walk the streets,” Annok-sur said. “Spend the rest of the night here. I’ll escort you back to your home in the morning.” Taking Zenobia’s hand, she led her from the workroom to one of the rooms below.
In a few moments Annok-sur returned to Trella’s presence. “We’ll leave the house right before dawn. With her cloak drawn, no one will notice her.”
“Thank you, Annok-sur.”
“I think she will do well, Trella. It will take many months, perhaps years, but Zenobia will gather much useful information. And you spoke to her with the voice of command, with the voice of someone twice your seasons. You know the ways of power and how to bend both men and women to your will.”
“Yes, I have learned much in the last few months,” Trella answered, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “When I was sold into slavery, I was told a slave needs to learn quickly. And so I am always learning. From Nicar, from Eskkar, from the people of the village, even from you, Annok-sur. I must be stronger and wiser than my seasons and I must hide my doubts, if Eskkar is to succeed.” She shook her head to banish the dark thoughts. “Do you need any help to find the house or furnish it?”
“No, I know what is needed,” Annok-sur replied. “But we should meet with Gatus in the morning, to make sure he is ready and understands his part in this new undertaking.”
“I think Gatus will find this task to his liking. Perhaps Zenobia will have the girls practice their arts on him.”
They both smiled at the thought of the old soldier reclining in bed, sip-ping fine wine, and surrounded by eager women while counting his profits.
“As long as they gather secrets,” Trella said. “I just wish Zenobia were already in business. Korthac and his men would be sure to visit her.”
Trella sighed. The secretive Egyptian seemed to be ever in her thoughts. Soon, she hoped, his riddle would be solved.
Tammuz and his new slave followed Gatus back to the alehouse, where he grunted his goodnight without stopping. Tammuz watched the veteran soldier disappear into darkness down the lane, hand on his sword.
While anyone walking around in the middle of the night could expect to be a target for robbers, only someone blind drunk or very desperate would think of attacking the captain of the guard.
Tammuz rapped three times on the door. “It’s Tammuz, Kuri. Open up.”
He waited, glancing up and down the narrow lane. En-hedu still held on to his left hand, an unfamiliar sensation he found surprisingly enjoy-able. He’d taken her hand when they left Trella’s house, before he remembered the need to keep his right hand free and close to the knife in his belt. So he changed hands, but discovered his crippled arm couldn’t hold her properly as they walked. Before he could get frustrated, En-hedu had gently withdrawn her hand from his weak grasp and taken his left hand in her own, holding him gently until they reached the alehouse.
The door creaked open at last, and Kuri stood there, looking half asleep, but holding his old copper sword in his hand. A sour odor wafted out of the alehouse; the old man smelled of barley ale, on his breath and his garment. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the girl.
“Fasten the door, Kuri.” Tammuz stepped in, leading his charge. Even in the best of neighborhoods, you didn’t stand about with the door open after dark. “No one else is to enter tonight.”
Inside, he led his new slave carefully through the blackness of the main room, trying to ignore the smells of ale, sweat, and worse. His new slave would no doubt be disgusted by such a place, especially after having lived at Trella’s house. Half a dozen snoring men slumbered on the floor, the heavy sleep of those who’d drunk too much ale before retiring late.
None of them woke as Tammuz passed between them and into his private quarters at the back of the alehouse.
Closing the door, Tammuz placed a rickety bar across the entrance.
The small room, less than half the size of Trella’s workroom, had no windows, but a hint of moonlight filtered into the chamber from the roof opening. Like nearly every other humble dwelling in Akkad, the inhabitants slept on the roof during the hottest part of the summer. Tammuz unbuckled his belt, and tossed it and his knife on a table, then struggled to remove the unfamiliar cloak, a covering he seldom wore.
En-hedu’s hand reached out. “Let me help you with that, master.”
She untied the cloak, then folded it neatly and placed in on the table.
He stood there, embarrassed at needing anyone’s help to remove a garment.
“Lady Trella told me much about you, master.” En-hedu kept her voice low, making sure her words could not be heard beyond the closed door. “She said you work in Lord Eskkar’s service.”
So she knew about his duties, just not that they considered him Hawk Clan.
“It’s little enough that I do for Lady Trella,” he said.
“She is a great lady. Without her help, I would be dead, either murdered by my master, or by my own hand.”
Tammuz felt wide awake now, despite the late hour, and her words piqued his curiosity. He guided En-hedu to one of two stools that faced each other across the small table, the only other furniture in the room beside the narrow bed, a small chest, and the ladder that provided access to the roof. The darkness shielded them both and made it somehow easier for him to talk. “Sit down. Would you like some ale? Or wine? I have . . .”
“No, nothing, master. The hour is late. You should be asleep, taking your rest.”
/> “I can’t sleep now. Tell me about yourself. How did you meet Lady Trella?”
They spoke for almost an hour. Tammuz learned that En-hedu’s parents had sold her at the slave market within days of her becoming a woman. She’d just entered into her thirteenth season, and her parents pocketed ten silver coins for their virgin daughter. Her new master, a tanner with his own shop, put in long hours at his craft, and made sure his new slave worked even harder.
When her master’s labor ended at sundown, En-hedu’s continued. He expected to be fed and pleasured long into the evening. The slightest fault on her part resulted in a beating, usually followed by a painful rape. She’d put up with it for three years, before she overcame her fear and struck back in desperation. That’s when he broke her nose. Neighbors heard her cries, and managed to stop him before he beat her to death.
The brutal beatings continued for the next few months, two or three times a week. Some days she could hardly stand, let alone work at the tannery. A woman living nearby sought out Trella and told her the story, and the extent of the beatings.
Trella and Annok-sur arrived the next day, escorted by two Hawk Clan soldiers, and offered the tanner five silver coins for his slave. The man refused. “Very well,” Trella replied. “Then I offer you four silver coins. If you do not take them, right now, tomorrow you will find that no one will purchase your leather, no one will sell you hides, no one will sell you bread or help you quench your thirst for ale. Soon no one will even speak to you. You will have to leave Akkad. Choose now.”
Tammuz laughed when En-hedu told that part of the story, imitating Trella’s manner of speaking. “Yes, I remember her commanding the servants and even the soldiers in Eskkar’s house. It would be a brave man to stand up to her.”
“I remember every word she said,” En-hedu answered. “I was on my knees in a corner of his hut, where he’d told me to stay, afraid to look up.
