Eskkar Saga 02 - Empire Rising

by Sam Barone

  Of course the weapons’ ban also protected Trella, and Korthac had to admit that her guards knew their business, staying alert and watching the crowds wherever she walked about the city.

  Reaching Eskkar’s gate, Korthac and Hathor had to wait in line, as the guards checked invitations and made sure none of the guests were armed.

  “Greetings, Honorable Korthac.” The guard bowed slightly as he took the clay shard from Korthac’s hand. “Are there more in your party?”

  “No, just the two of us.” Korthac gave the soldier a friendly smile.

  Hathor had already removed his sword belt and handed it to another of Trella’s guards. Hathor even managed a tight smile as he did so.

  “Please enter Lord Eskkar’s house, honored guests.” The guard bowed again, already turning to greet the next in line.

  Inside the courtyard, a half-dozen tables held pitchers of wine, bread covered with honey, platters of fruit and sweets. A clay bowl in the center of each table held a large spray of flowers, each table offering a different blossom. Smoke rose from the rear of the courtyard, as well as from the kitchens, and the scent of crisping meat hung in the air. On the roof opposite Eskkar’s quarters, musicians played their flutes, and a juggler tossed his brightly painted wooden balls high in the air.

  The courtyard, big as it was, couldn’t hold everyone, and the guests mingled inside the main house as well, talking and gesturing. Servants poured the wine, mixed equally with water, and several guests appeared to be under the wine-god’s spell already.

  Korthac spotted several nobles from the ruling council, all of them distinguished by the dark blue trim on their tunics, a color reserved for the ruling families. He accepted a brimming cup from one of the table attendants, then moved as close to the rear wall as he could get without moving into the cooking area. Some of the guests appeared to be nothing more than common tradesmen, still wearing their ragged and dirt-stained tunics. At least a dozen soldiers were scattered about, the Hawk Clan emblem on their shoulders, mingling with the guests as if they were equals.

  Unlike the rest of those invited, the Hawk Clan alone carried weapons, either short swords or knives. They, Korthac noted, did not have wine cups in their hands.

  Women made up almost half the crowd, wearing their finest garments, standing beside their men or gossiping together. Most did not even cover their heads with scarves, a custom Korthac still hadn’t gotten used to.

  “Honorable Korthac, may I offer you some of Lady Trella’s best wine?”

  He turned to find Annok-sur standing at his side, a small pitcher in one hand, a wine cup in the other. Korthac smiled at her as he exchanged his half-empty cup for the new one. “I thank you for your gift, Annok-sur.” He took a sip. The sweet wine had a pleasing odor, a far better blend than what he had picked up at the table. “This is very good. My thanks to Lady Trella.”

  He looked about, but didn’t see his hostess. “Is Lady Trella unwell?”

  “No, she’s resting upstairs,” Annok-sur said with a smile of her own.

  “She’d be pleased if you wish to visit her. She enjoys your stories about the land of Egypt.”

  And always interrupted each story with a dozen questions that probed for any detail of his past life, Korthac recalled. “Of course. Who would resist such a generous hostess.” He turned to Hathor. “Wait here.” He didn’t like leaving the man alone, but it would look odd to bring him into the house.

  Annok-sur weaved her way through the crowd, and Korthac trailed in her wake, annoyed that he had to follow in any woman’s footsteps. He’d never been inside Eskkar’s house before. Looking about, he saw the great room as crowded as the courtyard. Most of the guests stayed close to a long table loaded with wine and food, trying to get as much of the free fare as they could.

  A guard kept the stairs to the upper rooms clear, but he stepped aside and nodded at Annok-sur as they passed. Another guard stood at the top of the landing. Looking about, Korthac studied Trella’s private quarters as he entered, quarters that would soon be his. Benches and stools lined the walls, and a small table held pitchers of wine and water, but no food.

  Korthac recognized the captain of the guard, Gatus, sitting next to Trella near to the window. Corio stood nearby, with his wife and two sons, talking to one of the nobles who operated several boats that plied the river trade.

  Nicar, his wife, their son, and daughter-in-law stood together, talking excitedly among themselves.

  Trella rose from her seat as Korthac crossed the room. Surprised by her size, he realized her pregnancy had progressed since he’d last seen her. Even the loose-fitting dress she wore couldn’t conceal her condition.

  He’d always found pregnant women distasteful, unclean somehow. Their bloated bodies should be hidden away, out of sight, until they produced their offspring, preferably without annoying their betters. Korthac had fathered more children than he could remember, but had never cared for any of them or their mothers, either. A woman’s children made her weak and easy to manage, and he looked forward to Trella’s delivery.

  “Greetings, Lady Trella.” He bowed low to show his respect.

  “Welcome to our home, Honorable Korthac.” She bowed politely to him, like any respectable wife greeting her husband’s guests.

  “A blessing to the goddess Ishtar for your future family, and for your invitation to share in her blessings,” he intoned, fulfilling the courtesy the celebration required.

  “You learn our customs well, Honorable Korthac.” She turned to Gatus. “Can our guest take your seat for a moment, Gatus?”

  “Yes, he can have it,” Gatus replied, getting up and stretching. “I need something solid to eat, anyway. I’ll take your leave, Trella.” He bowed to her, then to Korthac.

  “Sit beside me,” Trella said, resuming her seat again. “I find I tire easily, and preparing for the feast has kept me busy since early this morning.”

  “The city is praising your name, Lady Trella, and thanking you for the gifts of food and wine.” For a city reputed to be pressed for gold, Trella had managed to buy enough food to give nearly everyone in Akkad a good meal and enough ale to wash it down.

  “And you, Korthac, have you decided to remain in our city?”

  He’d spread the word that he considered living in the countryside, or perhaps even downriver. The news had sent a dozen traders to his door, entreating him to stay and trade his gemstones in Akkad. The simple rumor had helped him make a dozen new friends.

  “I think I’ll stay in Akkad, Lady Trella.” He might as well tell her the truth. She knew no merchant would willingly leave the city and all its advantages. “I’m still looking for a new house, perhaps something like this one. I heard this once belonged to a merchant?”

  “Yes, but Nicar loaned it to Eskkar for the siege. Afterward, my husband paid Nicar for it.”

  “When does your husband return, Lady Trella? I’m looking forward to meeting him, if even half the stories I’ve heard are true.”

  She laughed. “That’s what they are, Honorable Korthac, half-true. But he is a strong leader who cares for his people. I think you will like him.”

  “I’m sure I will, Lady Trella.” I’ll like him better when he’s dead, which will be soon enough, Korthac thought, and then he’d wipe that smile off her face. He hated having to restrain himself around anyone, let alone an upstart young girl.

  “Now tell me, Honorable Korthac, when are you going to let your men move about the city? I hear they spend all their time cooped up inside that dreadful inn.”

  “My servants are uncouth men. Many are not even used to living in a village, let alone a city like Akkad. But they were all I could find to accompany me on my journey.” Korthac kept his tone soothing. His time would come soon enough. “I would prefer to keep them out of trouble, at least until they’ve learned to speak your language and understand Akkad’s customs. A week or two after I’m established in my new home, they’ll be ready to go about on their own.”

  “T
he merchants will be glad to see them.”

  “As glad as my men will be, I can promise you that.” He saw a hint of disbelief in her eyes, and wondered if his words sounded too con-descending.

  “Have you been able to sell your gemstones for a fair price?”

  “That’s hard to say, Lady Trella. Some of my pieces have moved quickly enough, but others”—he shrugged—“I’m not so sure. Until one has lived in a place for some time, it is hard to know what makes for a good trade. It’s difficult enough for me to know an honest price. That’s why I’m keeping a close watch on my men, to make sure they aren’t cheated.” And meanwhile giving away most of my jewels for far less than what they’re worth.

  “You’ve picked up our language well, Honorable Korthac. You speak with only the slightest accent. It’s hard to believe you’ve learned it so quickly.”

  “A trader must master many tongues, as I’m sure you know. And aside from trading, I’m spending most of my days learning your language and customs.” He reached inside his tunic. “But I’ve nearly forgotten.” He brought out a small cotton pouch laced shut with a thin strand of dark leather. “This is for you, Lady Trella. A gift from the land of Egypt.”

  He handed her the pouch, watching her deft hands as she untied the knot and upended the contents into her palm. An emerald the size of a man’s thumb, cut into a square shape and banded with a strip of gold attached to a thick golden chain, glistened in the light.

  “Honorable Korthac, this is . . . I’ve never seen such a stone.”

  Korthac relaxed as his hostess stared at the jewel, fascinated by its deep green color. As well she should, he thought. These lands produced very few of them, and those were mostly small and of poor quality. He remembered lifting the jewel from the neck of a rich merchant’s wife in Egypt. On her knees, she pleaded with him not to take her favorite possession, so he handed it back to her, watching her eyes fill with gratitude.

  He let her hold it for a moment, until he plunged his sword into her belly.

  Then he took it from her and dangled it in front of her face, while she watched her blood stain the ground until she died.

  “It is a beautiful gem, Lady Trella, but who else in Akkad should have it, if not you?”

  “I’m honored, but I cannot accept this. It’s much too valuable.”

  “Lady Trella, I insist. I have others, just as fine. By wearing this one, you’ll encourage all the other women in Akkad to buy my stones. And perhaps, if I need help in some matter or another, I can turn to you.” He watched her eyes linger on the stone. No woman could refuse such a gift, he knew. He’d always found it so easy to manipulate women.

  Trella stared at the stone for a moment, then returned it to the pouch.

  “It is too much, but I thank you for this gift. It’s the most beautiful necklace I’ve ever seen.” She turned to him and smiled, a smile full of warmth that he hadn’t seen before. “But, Honorable Korthac, I will not wear the necklace until after the child has been born. Otherwise the gods might be jealous.”

  Korthac concealed his disappointment. He would have preferred to have her flaunt the jewel at today’s feast, making everyone aware of his gift and his special place in her favor. But it didn’t really matter. He’d take the stone back from her soon enough, and when he did, his pleasure would not be so easily satisfied.

  “May your child bring you great happiness, Lady Trella.” For as long as it lives, he thought.

  On the other side of Akkad, no lamps or fires burned in Tammuz’s alehouse. The sun had gone down moments ago, but for once the alehouse stood empty. The usual customers had departed, to partake of the food and ale that flowed freely today in Ishtar’s honor, thanks to Lady Trella. A few would undertake to help themselves to goods left unattended, especially when their owners grew lax from too much wine. En-hedu heard laughter and the sound of loud voices coming from the lane, rising and falling as people passed to and fro.

  Since there were no customers, En-hedu asked Tammuz if he would close the alehouse for a few hours. He suggested they walk the lanes and enjoy the crowds, but En-hedu asked him to wait. She left their chamber and went into the common room, closed the door to the lane, and set the bar in its groove. When she returned to the bedroom, Tammuz started to rise from the table.

  “No, don’t get up. There is something I wish you to do for me,” she began, rushing the words a little more than she’d wanted.

  There was just enough light for her to see the puzzled look on her master’s face.

  “Why, what do you need?”

  She stood directly in front of him. “I want you to take me to bed.” En-hedu had forced the words out, and now they couldn’t be called back. She pulled her dress up over her head, and stood there, not even a step away.

  He’d seen her without her clothes many times, but she’d never displayed herself like this, never simply stood there for him to see. And enjoy. She took a deep breath, and moved her legs a little apart.

  His eyes caressed her body, lingering on her breasts and the jutting mound of hair beneath her belly.

  “En-hedu,” he began, “are you sure . . .”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I need to be your woman, to bring you the pleasure of the gods, and to give you children. More than that, I want to please you. You are a good man, and I want to stay with you forever.”

  He stood and took her in his good arm. “You will never leave me, En-hedu. I want you with me always. And you do not have to . . .”

  She leaned closer and kissed him, a long kiss that silenced him. When the kiss ended, he had her breast in his hand, causing her to gasp with pleasure.

  “Your clothes, master,” she said huskily, feeling a wave of pleasure run through her body. Her head felt light, and she wondered if she would fall when he released her. She led him to the bed, then helped him with his tunic, for once her fingers moving clumsily instead of with their usual efficiency. Then they tumbled onto the bed, her head swimming with new sensations. This time he kissed her, and something shot through her like a tongue of fire. She felt herself grow moist between her legs, accompanied by an unfamiliar flash of warmth that excited her even more.

  Now his hands roamed her body, exploring, squeezing, touching. He moved along her body, and she felt the heat of his skin against her. She moaned when he stroked her mound, and he stopped.

  “Don’t stop,” she gasped, as surprised at her words as the speed at which she uttered them. “Don’t stop.” She pressed his hand against her, holding him there until his fingers slipped inside her. Never had she felt this way. There was no pain, no roughness to make her wince or cry out.

  Instead a wonderful feeling of warmth passed over her in waves. En-hedu heard herself laugh, a tiny sound that startled her as much as it did Tammuz. She’d never laughed in bed before.

  Before he could speak, she grasped his shoulders and pulled him on top of her, spreading her legs wide, using her hand to guide him inside her.

  This time she heard herself moan with pleasure, and he whispered something. En-hedu didn’t hear the words, but they didn’t matter. She wrapped her legs around his body and clutched him to her.

  She felt him hesitate, but then he began moving against her, thrusting himself and twisting his hips faster and faster. She moaned in pleasure, arching her back, while he pushed himself deeper inside her. Then he cried out her name again and again, his body moving uncontrollably, as he drove himself into her. She heard herself cry out, as much at the pleasure she was giving as her own, though her own secret place trembled uncontrollably as it grew even more moist.

  At last he slumped against her, breathing hard, still murmuring her name over and over, telling her he loved her and that she must never leave him.

  “Never, master,” she promised him, “I will never leave you.”

  When he began to move off of her, she giggled and held him tight.

  “No, stay where you are. I want to feel your body against mine.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, w
hispering the words in her ear. “Hold me tight. That was so good . . . so good.”

  She held him in her strong arms, feeling proud that she could please him so easily. Caressing his face with one hand, she felt glad the darkness hid her smile. She kissed him again, and suddenly he responded, his tongue penetrating her mouth and exciting her. She felt him growing hard again, so she slid her hands down his back and pulled him tight against her. That elicited a gasp of pleasure from him, as he buried his face in her neck and hair.

  But only for a moment. He started moving again, growing firmer, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through her, and she heard herself moan. Another wave of pleasure swept through her. This time it lasted a long, long time.

  ——

  Only a single lamp burned in Trella’s bedroom. The feast had finally ended, at least for Trella and her household. She sat on the bed, Annok-sur next to her, holding Korthac’s emerald in her hand.

  “And he asked for nothing, Trella? No gift in return?”

  “Nothing. Just my favor. He didn’t mention Eskkar, didn’t even suggest that I tell him about this great gift. As if Eskkar didn’t matter.”

  “What will you do with it?” Annok-sur set the precious stone down on the bed between them.

  “Nothing, for now. After the child comes, as soon as I can, I’ll sell it. It will fetch enough to pay Corio’s builders for some time, I’m sure.”

  “If you can find someone with enough gold to buy it, at anywhere near what it’s worth.” Annok-sur sighed. “Perhaps you should keep it.”

  “No. If the people saw me wearing such a thing, they’d lose their trust in me. How could I ask everyone to make sacrifices for the sake of the wall, if I showed myself in public wearing a jewel worth so much?” Trella shook her head. “But this Korthac . . . something about him troubles me even more than when he first arrived. You’ve learned nothing new about him?”

  Annok-sur sighed. “Little enough. His men are never out of his or that Hathor’s sight. He bought two women in the slave market, to cook and satisfy his men, but they rarely go out. When they do, they’re always escorted by one or two of his men. We’ve tried to speak with them, but they’ve been warned not to speak to anyone, and they’re too frightened to disobey. They buy their goods, or wash their clothing in the river, and return to Korthac’s inn. Aside from that, they seldom leave his house. I’ve seen them. They look wretched.”