by Mike Ashley
Later that day, we talked about the most recent developments.
“Who is this Azizu?” Uncle wanted to know.
“I have no idea,” the prince admitted.
Erishum thought that Azizu came from somewhere in the west, but knew little else about him. “I will ask around,” he said.
“How does one become an officer of the guard?” Telemachos asked.
“Such appointments are always political,” the prince said. “One must have a patron in high places.”
“Then who was Azizu’s sponsor?”
“I do not know,” came the reply.
“One thing that I do know,” Uncle stated, “is that all large enterprises keep very detailed records of such appointments. Where would such listings be found, Prince Banu?”
“In the House of Archives,” he said, sitting up straight. “Yes, it would be there.” He smiled. “I knew there was a reason that Father wanted me to learn the stylus.”
“Then, if I may be so bold, my prince, I suggest that you and Achilleus spend tomorrow morning examining those files.”
That was the third day.
The House of Archives was a nondescript structure of brick and stone near the Handuri Gate in the southern part of Nineveh. Although the prince and I had no problem entering the building, finding what we wanted proved no easy task.
“Well, yes,” the librarian said, “there are filing marks on the boxes, but you would need to have one of the scribes show you the meaning of both them and the texts, and we have none available to spare for a tour.”
“I can read the signs perfectly well myself,” Banu noted, “and I represent the Great King’s interest in this, so either cooperate or you’ll find yourself copying eponym lists somewhere in Outer Armenia.”
“Of course, Great Prince.”
“We are looking for the record of an officer’s appointment.”
“When did this occur?” the librarian inquired.
“I have no idea,” came the reply.
“Then how do you expect me? . . . uh, yes, I’ll do everything I can,” the man stated, when he saw the anger building in Banu’s eyes. “Where’s he stationed?”
“He’s part of the Great King’s personal guard,” the prince noted. “His name is Azizu.”
“Oh! Well, that should be relatively easy. He’ll be recorded on the payroll of the Great King’s own household. Let’s just see,” and the librarian went bustling off into the next room, looking at this box of tablets and that, reading the labels affixed in clay to each. “Yes, this may tell us something.” He motioned to one of his orderlies to lift down the heavy container.
“Azizu, Aaa-ziii-zuuu. Aha! Says he was appointed in the eponymate of King Sennacherib himself, five years ago. This number” – he pointed at the leading edge – “tells me the location of his enrolment tablet.”
The librarian ran into an adjoining storage area, and then into another further on. He had the orderly lift the heavy box onto a sorting table. Then he paged through the tablets, one by one.
“Yes, here it is. Azizu. Native of Qarqara in the west. Enlisted eleven years ago. Raised to officer rank by the Great King five years ago, on the recommendation of Queen Zakutu.”
“Grandmama!” Banu exclaimed.
“But I thought her name was Naqi’a,” I replied.
“That was her original name. Her royal name, her Akkadian name, is Zakutu, ‘the lady who was freed’.”
Banu suddenly noticed the librarian’s interest in their conversation, and abruptly dismissed him, saying, “You will be silent, clerk, about all of these matters, or you will lose the ability to speak and write.” Then he said to me, “We’ll talk of this later.”
But after we had returned to our apartment, the prince only brooded within himself, and finally he made his excuses and left. Only I remained to tell Uncle what had transpired.
On the fifth day we were interrupted by the appearance of Captain Azizu in our doorway.
“I hear you’ve been asking questions about me,” he said.
“We are asking questions of many people,” Uncle replied through me. “The innocent have nothing to fear.”
“I just did my duty,” the officer stated. “Everyone who was there will confirm my account.”
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Telemachos replied. “We have only your rendition of what occurred, because we cannot locate any of the other guards who were on duty that night. Where is Sergeant Yari, for example?”
“I have no idea, sir,” Azizu said. “He was reassigned by order of the Substitute King, and I’ve not seen him since. He was in the army that the usurper took to Hani-Galbat. Many of those men have never returned.”
“How convenient,” Uncle noted. “What of the rest?”
“Most of them I didn’t know,” Azizu indicated.
“Who assigned them to you?”
“Don’t know that either. I am accustomed to following my orders as presented to me, sir. I do not question orders, ever. I do my job. I do it well. No one has ever questioned my efficiency. The Great King himself has praised me.”
“You were ordered by the Substitute King to conduct an investigation of the Great King’s death. What conclusion did you reach?”
“War intervened before I could proceed very far, and then Arda-Mulishi was deposed, so I stopped looking. It was the judgment of the gods.”
“Who recommended you for this position?” Uncle asked.
“The Great King.”
“But the Great King does not usually reach down into the ranks of his soldiers to find and reward one individual, does he? So who sponsored you, Captain?”
“I cannot say,” Azizu finally replied.
“Cannot, or will not.”
“I cannot say.”
“Then I guess we will have to continue asking our little questions, won’t we?” Uncle said. “You are dismissed, Captain.”
Banu did not appear at all that day, and I worried about what had happened to him. Truth be told, however, I did not know how to reach him, and was not sure that I wanted to.
We ate out that night, venturing down the winding back-ways of Nineveh to one of the shops that lined Garden Street. They had a spiced fresh lamb fixed with herbs and late vegetables and olive oil that even at this cold time of the year was something well worth fighting for. The place was filled to the brim. The patrons were as raucous as black-headed crows jostling each other for scraps, the cymbals and drums kept warring with one another to beat a tune upon our deaf ears, and the girls, well, the girls were simply good enough to eat. We finally left the place satiated and satisfied, and just a little bit drunk.
But a few blocks away we lost track of where we were, and became uncertain of the neighbourhood, which was far less fine than the one we had just been visiting. Suddenly I noticed a couple of toughs trailing a half street away, and I nudged Uncle in the ribs.
“Whaaat?” he burped.
I nodded rearward, and slowly reached under my cloak to draw my long, curved knife, hiding the glint. When the thugs rushed us, we were ready, and I carved my initials in one’s belly while Uncle slit the throat of the other. A third man, hovering just beyond the rest, abruptly turned tail and ran off.
The villain whom I had sliced groaned in the mud and offal of the open sewer.
“Who sent you?” I demanded.
When the man failed to reply, I shook him, like the rag doll he was.
“Who?” I repeated, pressing upon his wound.
“Ohhh,” he groaned, “stop, please. I don’t know. Officer. Paid me three Ishtars. Said two foreign folk would be at Kurbanu’s. One with a scar on his right cheek” – I looked quickly at the slash on Uncle’s face – “Ohhh.” We would get no more out of this one.
When we found our way home, I told Uncle what the man had said.
“Someone does not like us making inquiries,” he replied.
Wonder of wonders, Prince Banu secured for us an interview with his gran
dmother on the next afternoon. We were escorted to the Royal Palace of Great King Sennacherib, where once again we were blindfolded, and led through a maze of rooms and passageways, until we were deposited on comfortable couches in a small waiting area. There we abided for some time until we hear the slight rattle of a bead screen being opened.
“My grandson says you wish to ask me about the Great King my husband’s passing.” The words were barely audible, but I detected the faintest trace of an accent, just as I could smell the barest essence of some exotic perfume. Perhaps it was myrrh or some other frankincense that I had never before encountered. Like this woman of power, it was rare and seductive and potent.
“What can you tell us of the officer known as Captain Azizu?” Uncle wanted to know.
“Tell you? I can tell you nothing,” she said.
“But you recommended him for advancement five years past.”
“That may be true,” she replied, “but I receive advice constantly from many different quarters, and I can scarcely remember every person whom I may have sponsored, particularly a man of low birth.”
“I did not say he was of low birth.”
“Perhaps I assumed it.”
“You are not native to this region.”
“I was born in Calneh. My father was the Governor there, head of the family that once ruled the area. The Great King visited Calneh while he was yet in the House of Succession; he was captivated, and begged my father for the favour. So I became his Second Queen.”
“Who was First Queen?”
Zakutu coughed before replying, “Tashmetum-Sharrat.”
“She was Assyrian?”
“Yes.”
“She was the mother of Crown Prince Ashur-Nadin-Shumi, he who was made King of Babylon by his father?”
“Yes.”
“Ashur-Nadin-Shumi was betrayed to the Elamites twelve years ago?”
“Yes.”
“No one knows who betrayed him?”
“Yes.”
“The First Queen was also the mother of Arda-Mulishi and Nabu-Sharru-Usur?”
“Yes.”
“These men are accused of murdering the Great King Sennacherib, their father?”
“Yes.”
“But they did not kill their father?”
A long silence, and then: “This interview is over, impertinent little man.”
On the seventh day, we again met the Great King Esarhaddon at Fort Sargon, north-east of Nineveh. We went through the same routine as before.
“What have you Greeks learned?” the monarch wanted to know. “Time presses. I must enter into my capital city tomorrow, the eighth day of Adaru, at the hour chosen by my priests, or face further unrest. You see, gentlemen, how I am become even more of a prisoner of my office than my two disgraced brethren.”
The three of us sat there on a bench, Uncle Telemachos in the middle, Prince Banu to his right, and I to his left. Once again I acted as intermediary.
“We have examined the circumstances surrounding the passing of Great King Sennacherib,” Uncle stated. “We have interviewed the officer who was there, and we have investigated some of the events that occurred. The statue of the god Nisroch was undermined over a long period by the hand of the killer, who toppled the image onto the outstretched body of your father. This much is without question.”
Then Telemachos said what he had to say to make his tale more palatable: “What I speak now is speculation, for I cannot prove any of it. The testimony indicates that the room was empty of priests, acolytes, or any visitors both before and after the Great King’s murder. There is no entrance to the temple save the main door, and this was closely guarded by Captain Azizu and his thirty men. Although those soldiers are no longer available to be interviewed, we talked with one of their colleagues. What he told us largely confirms the officer’s account.”
“But if no one was there, then my father must have been killed by the gods, as the priests have indicated,” came that disembodied voice.
“Not so,” Telemachos averred. “He was murdered, and the murderer had long planned his passing, knowing of his noctural habits in visiting the god. The only man in the room, other than the Great King himself, was Captain Azizu. Therefore, only he could have committed the sacrilege. Only he had the means and the opportunity.”
“Azizu?” echoed both Esarhaddon and his son.
“But how? And why?” the Great King continued. “Everyone knows him to be a loyal and faithful servant to the state.”
“Consider, Great King, that we only have his word as to the sequence of events. He ushered the guards out of the temple following their usual advance inspection of the premises, and escorted the Great King Sennacherib to his place before the statue of the god Nisroch. I believe that he then struck him senseless with the end of his spear; or perhaps he waited until the Great King was lying prone upon the floor, when he was most vulnerable, and violated him then. The body would have fallen without making any sound that could have been heard by the untrained troops roaming the perimeter outside. During part of this period he was unavailable to his troops, for when Sergeant Yari called to him for help, he did not immediately respond. This was unusual enough to be remembered later.
“Then the officer returned to his usual post for a time, making certain that his back was occasionally visible to his guards. When he reckoned that enough of an interval had passed, he crept forward, pushed over the previously loosened image onto the body of the Great King, obliterating at the same time the wound upon his master’s head that he himself had rendered, and then yelled as the statue shattered itself upon the floor. When the soldiers rushed in, he was already bending over the deceased body of the Great King, trying to make the dead come alive, and there was nothing anyone else could do. The subsequent search of the building turned up no one, of course, because there was no one to be found. The guards naturally believed the death to be the act of the god whom Sennacherib had offended.
“As to the why of it, this is what we know, mighty King. The Prince Arda-Mulishi was briefly heir to the throne after the unfortunate death of his full brother, King Ashur-Nadin-Shumi, who was himself betrayed by person or persons unknown to the Elamites while he was serving as subsidiary King of Babylon for his father. But Arda-Mulishi was not the charming and intelligent man that his elder had been, and so he fell out of favour with the Great King. Despite the ministrations of the First Queen, you were named to his place in the House of Succession. All of this happened eleven years ago. Queen Tashmetum-Sharrat, where is she now?”
“She dwells in the palace of the late Great King Ashur-Nasir-Apli at the Holy City of Ashur,” came the rough reply. “She and my mother did not get along.”
“No, they did not get along,” Uncle agreed, “and that was one of the problems. Second Queen Zakutu wanted to be First Queen, but she could not assume that role, because Tashmetum-Sharrat was Assyrian, and Zakutu, whose original name was Naqi’a, was Phoenician, or, if truth be told, Calnehan. Calneh, as I know very well, is a port town not far south of the village Atalur, where we landed on our journey here. It is also the seat of governance for the entire region, is it not?”
“I believe this is so,” the Great King replied.
“Does the town of Qarqara fall within its control?”
“I believe this is so.”
“Captain Azizu was a native of that place, and I think that he either knew or was connected to one of the Second Queen’s relations, and that that cousin recommended him to her. She made him her man, and she sponsored him five years ago for the vacant Captaincy of the Royal Household Guards.
“Your father was troubled in his mind after the death of his eldest son, and the subsequent destruction of the city of Babylon. He believed that he had committed sacrilege, but was bound to the prophecy that he had himself commissioned from the priests, that Babylon could not be rebuilt again for a period of seventy years. Once written down, the dictum ensnared him, and there was nothing he could do. But he could chang
e the succession back to the next eldest son, the full brother of his much beloved Ashur-Nadim-Shumi.
“I believe that Queen Zakutu learned of his intention, and I believe she took the action she considered appropriate to preserve your inheritance. This is one explanation. You may accept or reject it, as you will.”
I gasped out loud at his effrontery, and so, I think, did the prince and his father.
“You have another theory?” Esarhaddon growled. He was not a happy man.
“The Prince Arda-Mulishi plotted with his younger brother to secure the throne, knowing that his father would never give it to him, subverted Captain Azizu with promises of advancement beyond his station, and murdered the Great King Sennacherib on the twentieth day of Tebetu in the year of the eponym, Nabu-Sharru-Usur.
“That is all I have to say about the matter.”
We waited then in silence for a very long time, not moving even the smallest bit, lest we be struck down by the wrath of the Great King.
“This is my pronouncement,” the Great King Esarhaddon finally intoned. He clapped his hands, and when his servants entered the room, he ordered them to record his words. “We thank the Greek merchants who have visited the centre of the earth, and who have rendered us a great service. As a token of our regard, we grant unto them special trading rights with the Kingdom of Assyria, all taxes to be remitted for the first five years of the agreement. Record it!” he demanded. “Further, the stranger named Te-le-ma-khu is to be given 100 gold pieces, and together with his party will depart our kingdom by the start of the New Year, bringing the good tidings of his new fortune to his homeland.
“However, the stranger who is named Akhu-Ilai will remain in Nineveh as chief of his station, and will be given a house of his own, with a Turtanu chosen by me to supervise that place, and servants and women to satisfy his every wish. He will have his own 100 lots of gold, and he will be recorded on the tablets as a man of position and power, as one who may advise the Great King on all matters relating to the west, and as friend and companion to the Great Prince in the House of Succession.
“Let this be recorded forever on the tablets of stone, let no man expunge my words or alter them in any way, lest they be condemned by the gods to unceasing torment.
