by Sam Barone
Tammuz glanced up when the entrance darkened. It took a moment to recognize Joratta, but as soon as Tammuz did, he summoned his own bodyguard. “Rimaud!”
The Kestrel’s guard stepped into the common room, and limped slowly toward Tammuz’s side, left hand on the scabbard of the short sword.
Joratta, eyes blinking in the semi-darkness, either didn’t notice their alertness or didn’t care. “Where is En-hedu? She must return to my mistress as soon as possible.”
“So she can be whipped?” Tammuz moved to his feet and rested his hand on his knife.
“What?” A look of disbelief crossed Joratta’s face. “No, of course not. My mistress wants to have another massage.”
Tammuz looked toward Joratta’s guard in the street. This was a different man, and he paced slowly back and forth outside the Kestrel, showing no interest in his master’s business. Joratta obviously had no thoughts of a beating on his mind. If the woman wanted another massage
…
“Go back to your mistress while you can still walk.” Tammuz returned to his stool, but kept his feet on the ground. “And before I remember you owe me two coppers for my wife’s labors.”
“My mistress will pay her whatever she asks, but she must come now.”
Tammuz laughed. “Your mistress has no credit here. She’ll pay what she owes, and pay in advance if she ever wants to see my wife again. Tell her that.”
“You don’t understand. My mistress…” he moved closer and lowered his voice, “she pleasured her husband so well that he wishes her to come to his bed again tomorrow. So she must have another massage right away.”
“I thought she was screaming in pain when she threatened En-hedu with a beating.”
Joratta grimaced. “She was in pain… for most of the night. But in the morning when she awoke, she felt much better, and by the evening when the master came to her chamber, the pain was almost gone.”
Tammuz couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Maybe your master should come here to spend time with En-hedu himself. She could pleasure him without getting your mistress involved.”
Rimaud snickered at the jest, and Joratta frowned again.
“You owe me two copper coins.” Tammuz leaned forward and pointed his finger at Ninlil’s servant. “Plus another one for threatening my wife and letting her walk back here without an escort. Then two more for if your mistress wants another session. That’s five coins. Pay now, or get out.”
“I can’t pay that.” Joratta looked uncomfortable. “What if my mistress refuses to pay so much? Or if there is more pain?”
“I don’t care. Go back to your mistress. Tell her what she must pay. If she agrees, you can return here. En-hedu will be back by then, and if she’s willing to give your mistress another massage, you can walk her there. And back. And by all the gods in Sumer, if she walks back alone this time, she’ll never set foot in your mistress’s house again.”
Joratta decided Tammuz meant every word. “Just make sure she’s here when I return.” He turned and walked from the Kestrel, shouting at his guard as he emerged. Their voices quickly disappeared up the lane.
“Do you think she’ll pay?”
Tammuz looked at Rimaud and laughed. “A second wife who can’t pleasure her husband? She’ll pay that and more.”
They were both still laughing when En-hedu arrived.
26
Two months later…
Shulgi picked his horse through the bodies of men, women and children until he reached what had been the center of the village. Not that much remained. His men had put the torch to all the tents and reed huts of the Salib encampment. They’d stripped the bodies and the dwellings of anything of value first, of course. Flies buzzed about his head, and he brushed them away. They had more than enough to feast on. More than a few carcasses of horses, cows, sheep, goats and other herd animals lay scattered about, mixed randomly with the bodies of their former owners. Even a few dogs, who could have escaped easily enough, had died defending the animals entrusted to their care. Others howled from the edges of the encampment, driven away by the sounds and smells of death.
The wail of the surviving women and children hung in the air as well. The cries of anguish and sorrow seemed almost powerful enough to return the dead to life. Men lined up to rape the women, pushing and shoving to keep their places. Not that Shulgi or his men cared in the slightest about their victims, alive or dead. The Salibs, even more than the Tanukhs, had raided Sumer’s lands too often in the past. Everyone in Sumeria hated them, even more than they hated the Akkadians in the north. Shulgi felt satisfaction at the thought that he would be the one to pay back the Salibs for their constant raids.
For generations, the villages of Sumer had been too weak to strike back at their tormentors from the desert. Now, as the cities swelled in number, that had changed, and the power of the sword now rested in Sumeria. Rested in Shulgi’s own hand, when all was said and done. He’d led his men in the attack, guiding them straight toward the largest concentration of Salibs. Two who opposed him had died, though one was an old man and not really worth counting. Most of the Salibs fled when they realized the numbers of their attackers. More important, his men knew he fought in the forefront, not from behind their ranks, as his father would have done. From this day on, Sumerians could speak about their warrior king without any doubts as to his courage or skill.
Shulgi let his eyes scan the battleground. A few of Razrek’s men galloped in from the desert, after chasing down the last of the fleeing tribesmen. By the desert-dwellers’ standards, this had been a rich village, where men measured wealth in the number and strength of their horses. Now most of those horses belonged to Sumer, and would be used to build the ever-growing force of cavalry Shulgi demanded. Every mount captured would be a weapon aimed straight at Akkad. The rest of the loot, whether livestock, gold, jewels or women, would be divided into three parts, with two parts going to his Tanukh allies.
Razrek and two of his men rode up, their horses picking the way through the rubble and dead bodies.
“Hail, King Shulgi. A mighty victory.”
“Did you get all the horses?” Shulgi ignored the words of praise. Defeating this desert scum meant little. They remained only the first step on his long march to Akkad.
“Nearly all of them. More than we expected. Many broke loose, and it will take a few days to round them all up. We should add at least two or three hundred horses. And I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with our friends after this.”
The success of this first joint raid with Kapturu’s men should ease some of the tension between the two groups. The Tanukhs had earned their share of the gold and women they prized so much. That should keep them from bickering and arguing over every little detail with their Sumerian ally. The fact that Shulgi had ridden at the head of his men would also be noticed, along with the Salib blood still staining his sword. Chief Kapturu had remained safely out of harm’s way throughout the fighting.
“I suppose we’ll have to waste a few days celebrating.” Shulgi shook his head in disgust.
“No way to avoid that,” Razrek agreed. “When that’s over with, Kapturu will send some of his men back to his village with the women and spoils.”
Shulgi had lost a handful of Sumerians in the fighting, and now the Tanukh chief would further weaken their combined force just to safeguard his share of the loot. Meanwhile, the next village in their path would have plenty of warning, either to flee or fight. From this day onward, it would be war in the desert, and Shulgi would need every man.
“I managed to grab a couple of women from Kapturu’s men, so we’ll each have something to keep us occupied.” Razrek offered that to try and cheer his commander.
Compared to Kushanna, these would be ugly enough. Still, any woman was better than none, and by now Razrek knew enough to make sure his king received the more promising of the two. “Make sure you clean them up first,” Shulgi ordered.
Razrek smiled at such fastidiousness. �
��Don’t worry, my king. They’ll be grateful enough that we haven’t handed them over to the Tanukhs.”
Shulgi turned away. His men would be erecting a tent for him. He would bathe in the oasis that had supported this village, then he would amuse himself with the captive woman for the next few days, as a leader should. There was nothing else he could do. Shulgi knew he had to be patient. It would take many months, maybe even a year to subdue the Salibs. Only after that feat ended could he think about preparing the Tanukhs for war against Akkad.
Still, word of this victory would spread over the desert. Even as the Salibs banded together, so would more Tanukhs rush to join Kapturu’s standard. And Shulgi’s losses would be steadily replenished from the training camps in Sumer and the surrounding regions. Most important, his men gained fighting experience. All this should happen without alerting Akkad’s spies to what he intended. After all, he could afford to wait a few years for his empire. He would then have a long life, with Kushanna as the first of many wives, to enjoy the world he had conquered.
K ushanna frowned at the man on his knees before her. Big, but soft, she decided. Recent tears had streaked his dirt covered face, bruises covered his face and arms, and his bound hands shook as he held them against his chest. His eyes held a hint of wildness, as if he were not quite right in the head.
Sohrab, accompanied by two guards, had escorted the prisoner into her presence. Sohrab had returned to Sumer with his captive last night, and requested a morning audience.
“Is this the man from Carnax?”
“Yes, my queen. He’s the only survivor I could find. His name is Dilse. I searched all over, but — ”
“You had to force him to come to Sumer?”
Not that she cared, but something seemed odd with the situation. Any plodding farmer should be eager for the chance to earn a few coins and visit Sumer.
Sohrab licked his lips. “He’s not exactly one of Carnax’s survivors.” He saw the frown and hurried on. “It seems he was one of the bandits who sacked the village. I think he’s afraid he’ll be killed for what he did.”
Interesting, and perhaps even better than some ignorant villager who probably knew little about the raid. “Lift up his head.”
One of the guards grabbed the man by his hair and twisted it back until the man’s mouth hung open, and his Adam’s apple bulged toward her. His eyes lost the wild look, replaced with fear.
“Listen to me, Dilse. I care nothing about whatever you’ve done in the past. But I want to know everything about the raid on Carnax. If you tell me what I want to know, you’ll be set free and even earn a few coppers.” She waved her hand at the guard, and he released his hold on Dilse’s hair. “Now speak.”
“My queen,” he gasped, “I know nothing about any raid. I’m just a caravan guard who became separated from my master. Please… I’ve done nothing.”
A child could have recognized the lie. “You should not try to deceive me, Dilse. Perhaps some time with the torturers will help loosen your tongue.” She turned to the guards. “Take him outside and cut off his fingers, one by one, until he’s ready to speak.”
For a moment, Kushanna enjoyed the look of horror on the man’s face. Then she turned away.
“No… I’ll tell you what I know! Please! Mercy!”
She ignored the cries for mercy. The guards knew what to do. They’d cut off one or two fingers before dragging the prisoner back, no matter what he promised. She walked across the room to the balcony. “Come with me, Sohrab.”
“Yes, my queen.”’
“Tell me what you learned.” She gazed down into the courtyard. The two guards soon appeared, jerking Dilse along between them. A small table set against the outer wall held several small knives and other implements.
“I spoke with several farmers who lived nearby. They knew little of what happened that day. It was almost four years ago. Those who lived too close to the village were all murdered. Apparently, there was a power struggle among Carnax’s elders. A trader named Fradmon sought vengeance for the death of his son, executed for murder by the village elder. This Fradmon hired some bandits, and they attacked the village at night. The village elder, a man named Ranaddi, perished at Fradmon’s hand. Ranaddi had a trusted advisor, and he had a grown son and a young daughter named Trella.”
“It’s not that uncommon a name.”
“No, my queen. But this Trella was favored by Ranaddi, favored enough that she attended many of his meetings. She was said to be keen of wit.”
Kushanna frowned. That sounded like the witch of Akkad. “How old was this child?”
“Not a child, my queen. She had already been given the rites of passage. Despite that, no man had claimed her for a husband.”
A shriek erupted from the courtyard. Kushanna glanced down just as the guard tossed the first finger into the dirt.
“And what happened to this Trella?”
“It seems that Fradmon, who planned the attack, was killed by the leader of the bandits, who turned on his master and then took all the gold for himself and his men. Instead of killing everyone, the bandit spared the women and a few young men. He took them with him when he departed, probably to sell as slaves.”
Another scream of pain echoed against the walls. This time the guard looked up at the balcony. Kushanna signaled the guard to cease.
“And Dilse was one of the bandits?”
“That’s what the people living nearby believed. He returned to the area a few months later, still with plenty of coins in his purse. Apparently, he is not quite right in the head. A few times he got drunk, and boasted of the raid on Carnax.”
Down below, the guards were binding up Dilse’s hand. It took only moments before they disappeared from view.
Kushanna turned away from the balcony. “Well, we’ll soon know.” She led the way into the chamber. The guards returned, dragging the prisoner between them. They’d wrapped his right hand in a rag, to catch the bleeding. They knew she didn’t like bloodstains on the floor.
“He’s ready to talk, Queen Kushanna.”
They usually were, after a losing a few fingers. “Give him some water,” she ordered.
Dilse managed to choke down a mouthful, but more spilled on his chest and the floor. “Mercy… mercy.” His voice trailed off into a whimper.
“Tell me of Carnax,” she ordered. “Tell me everything you know of the raid, or you’ll lose more than your fingers.”
The story came out between sobs. Dilse had been a servant for the merchant Fradmon. He and his steward had returned and slaughtered almost the entire village. But then the steward, a man named Sondar, turned upon his master, killing him, and taking the few survivors as slaves. They marched the captives, mostly women and children, off to a slave trader waiting nearby. Dilse even remembered the name of the slaver — Drusas.
The name made Kushanna smile. An odious little man, he lived right here in Sumer, flaunting his wealth and still dealing in slaves. A stroke of luck that Dilse remembered the slaver’s name, Kushanna decided. Drusas took delight in every one of his slaves. She felt certain he would remember what happened to Trella and her brother.
“And this Trella and her brother were sold to Drusas?”
“Yes, my queen.” Dilse had to pause to choke back the sobs. “Sondar sold all the captives to Drusas. Once they were gone, all of us rode north, eager to get away from Carnax.”
“No doubt.” She turned her gaze toward Sohrab. “Did you speak to Drusas?”
“I tried to, my queen. I went to his house last night to ask if he remembered anything about Trella’s brother, but Drusas had departed yesterday morning for the slaver’s camp upriver. He won’t be back for several days.”
At least Sohrab understood the importance of the information.
She decided there was little more to glean from the wretch, kneeling at her feet. Then she had another thought. “This Sondar… can you describe him?”
A few moments later, Kushanna glanced at Sohrab. He nodded agr
eement.
“I think we have no further need for poor Dilse,” Kushanna said. “Take care of him.”
The guards smiled and dragged the prisoner away. They’d take him to the rear of the courtyard and drive a sword through his heart.
“You’ve done well, Sohrab. Keep all this to yourself. It may prove useful. Wait here for a moment.”
“Of course, my queen.” Sohrab bowed at the compliment.
Kushanna returned to the balcony. She wanted some time to think. Sondar had changed his name to Razrek, and within a few months had become King Eridu’s most favored leader. Not that Razrek’s murderous past made any difference. He could have burned a dozen villages for all she cared. But there might come a day when such knowledge might be useful.
Even more useful might be Trella’s brother, if he were still alive and could be found. At the least she should be able to sell him to Akkad for a heavy price. Depending on Trella’s feelings of affection, perhaps even further advantages could be obtained. But first the witch’s brother must be found. She turned away from the courtyard and swept back into the room.
“I want Trella’s brother brought to Sumer. Go after Drusas and find out what he knows. Make sure he tells you everything about the raid on Carnax, as well as what befell Trella and her brother. Tell him if I’m not satisfied with what he remembers, he may find more of his property in Sumer confiscated.”
“Yes, my queen. And if I find that the brother is dead?”
“I’ll reward you well if you bring him back. But even if he’s dead, knowledge of his fate might be useful.” Kushanna smiled. Yes, alive or dead, Trella’s brother would help Sumer.
27
The morning after he returned to Akkad, Eskkar went down to the barracks to see Gatus. Last night, at the evening meal, the old soldier mentioned some new training routines that he wanted Eskkar to see. Eskkar promised he would stop by the barracks at mid-morning. Even with Gatus’s warning, Eskkar slowed in surprise when he entered the training ground.
