Five more days went by without event, and already a fortnight had passed since Ishtar’s feast. The late afternoon sun drifted toward the western horizon, and En-hedu considered packing up her wares for the day a good hour earlier than usual. This day, like all the other days and weeks before it, had brought little out of the ordinary. Business always slowed down in the late afternoon, when people, tired after a long day’s work, worried more about eating their dinner than buying trinkets.
She’d only sold one belt all day, and that before the noon hour, to a trader whose own had split.
She’d arrived in the lane at first light, just in time to watch Korthac head toward the river, a little earlier than he normally did. But he returned at noon, his regular hour, to take his midday meal in private. Korthac had moved into his new quarters two weeks ago, a few days after Ishtar’s festival. His new residence consisted of three small houses in a row, all attached together, with the central one slightly larger than the other two.
En-hedu had started selling her wares in Korthac’s lane two days before he took possession of his new house. By the time the Egyptian moved in, she’d become just another woman selling goods, her wares displayed only a few paces away from a farmer’s wife selling vegetables. At least half a dozen pushcarts lined the lane every day, sometimes blocking traffic as the vendors moved and shifted their carts and goods about, or their owners took time to gossip.
After so many days at her post, En-hedu knew the name of every one of the seventeen Egyptians, and spoke to all of them whenever they passed. But only if their master were absent. She’d soon learned not to call attention to herself, not with Korthac nearby. None would dare venture into the lane or even acknowledge her greeting.
The only small exception to that rule was Hathor. A serious-looking man who seldom smiled, he functioned as senior steward to Korthac. Or acted as occasional bodyguard, depending on the need. When Korthac left the house, Hathor took charge, and he spent his time moving between the three houses, checking on the men and maintaining order. That brought him out into the lane, and occasionally he would smile or nod a greeting to En-hedu as he passed. Twice he actually bought something from her cart.
A belt one time, and a wrist guard the other. He made other purchases for the household as well, sometimes in the lane, but more often in the marketplace, which held a better selection of goods.
To her surprise, he’d picked up the local language very well, and even ventured to ask about her other wares. En-hedu tried to draw him into conversation, but he never stayed long, or spoke much. He never acknowledged her presence if Korthac accompanied him.
The Egyptian leader remained as elusive as ever. After taking his midday meal, Korthac usually returned to the docks. Boats that had started their journey toward Akkad at dawn often arrived in the afternoon hours, and trading could be brisk until late in the day. Today, though, Korthac remained within his walls. Then in the middle of the afternoon, two men she had never seen before walked up to Korthac’s house. The door wardens recognized them and passed them inside, without the usual challenge. The strangers, hard-looking men in dirty tunics, remained less than an hour, then departed, walking toward the river gate.
As they did so, several of Korthac’s men began passing from one house to the other, and the attitude of the guards changed. Those stationed at the doors seemed more tense, and the quick smiles they often directed at her disappeared. That piqued En-hedu’s interest even more than the strangers’ visitation. She changed her mind about quitting early, and began working on another belt, using a tiny bronze needle to etch a design in the soft leather. The simple pattern occupied her hands and still let her watch the lane, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
You say Ariamus is ready to cross the river?” Seated on a small stool, Korthac’s words sounded harsh in the small, windowless chamber he used when he desired complete privacy.
“Yes, lord,” Rihat answered, sitting cross-legged on the floor before Korthac. “All the men are in place, hiding in the hills just across the Tigris.
Ariamus said to tell you we can attack today, or wait until tomorrow, if you need more time.”
“No, we will attack today, at dusk, just as we planned. You’re sure no one saw our force?”
“None that we left alive, lord.” Rihat licked his lips. “Ariamus was very careful. We traveled most of the night, then took shelter in the hills. We saw only a few herders, tending their flocks.”
Korthac studied Rihat with care. One of Ariamus’s subcommanders, Rihat appeared to have his wits about him, though he looked nervous at finally meeting Korthac face to face. Not that that meant anything. Korthac knew he made most men uneasy. The man showed the fatigue of days of hard traveling. His face covered with sweat, he gulped another mouthful of water from the cup. He glanced from Korthac to Hathor, the only other man present in the room.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Korthac said, speaking with delibera-tion. “Tell them they’re to cross today, an hour before sunset.” He kept his eyes locked on Rihat, probing for any signs of inattentiveness or fear.
“Then you’ll approach the city from the south, and wait for my signal.”
“Yes, lord. Takany and Nebibi explained everything. They made sure everything was prepared before they sent me on ahead.”
Both Takany and Nebibi knew the penalty for failure to obey orders exactly. Korthac worried more about Ariamus and his men. They represented the unknown quantity, and if they failed, Korthac might be left trapped in the city.
“Lord, do you want me to return with Rihat, to make sure the men are ready?”
Hathor offered the suggestion humbly enough, and Korthac considered the question for a moment before he answered. “No, I need you here, Hathor. Rihat can convey my orders word for word to Takany and Ariamus. Isn’t that right, Rihat?”
Korthac’s tone dripped with menace, and Rihat dropped his eyes to the floor. “Yes, lord,” he finally answered when the silence between them stretched out. “Exactly as you say.”
“Good.” Korthac even permitted himself a small smile to encourage the man. “You will be rewarded when the city is ours. Now, return to Takany and tell them to make sure they get across the Tigris without being seen. Then they’re to follow the river to the gate, and await my signal.
They must not be late.”
Korthac nodded to Hathor, who stood and extended his hand to Rihat, pulling him to his feet. The two men left the room, leaving Korthac alone with his thoughts. Takany would be the one who’d suggested waiting another day. He would have wanted to rest the men. No doubt all of them were weary after four days of hard traveling, mostly at night, to reach Akkad’s outskirts unseen.
Still, Korthac knew someone in the countryside would have seen something, and a hint of his men’s passage would probably arrive in the morning. Besides, the longer the men had to wait, the more likely something else would go wrong, or that Takany and Ariamus would get in some argument and blood would fl ow. And right now, Korthac knew he needed Ariamus and his horsemen more than Takany, a brute fighter completely loyal to his master.
Hathor returned to the room and stood in the doorway. “Rihat and his companion are on their way back, lord.”
“Summon Simut. It’s time to prepare.”
Hathor stepped away, returning in a few moments with Simut, another one of Korthac’s “bodyguards” who’d proven himself in many fights over the years.
“Gather your three men, Simut,” Korthac began. “Do you know what to do?” Korthac had gone over this assignment several times with the man, so there was no need to go into the details again. “Make sure you give yourself enough time to find Gatus and kill him.”
Simut nodded. “I understand, lord. He shall die in the lane returning to his house.”
They’d studied Gatus’s routine for over a week. The captain of the guard would finish his duties at the barracks or the council house, then visit his favorite tavern for a single mug of ale before heading back to his house just as dusk fell.
“If something goes wrong, Simut,” Korthac said, “if the alarm is given, you’ll have to kill him as he leaves the alehouse. The man must die, no matter how many men you lose.”
“Yes, lord. I’ll not fail you.”
Of all the men in the city, only Gatus had the experience and presence to act as a rallying point for any resistance. With all of the other senior men out of Akkad, the rest of the soldiers and the city’s inhabitants would look to him for leadership. So the old soldier had to die first, to dishearten the soldiers and the people.
“Then you’ll be well rewarded when we have the city.” Korthac turned to Hathor. “You’ll keep the gate to Trella’s house open?”
Trella’s house, with its surrounding wall and force of soldiers stationed within, would be easy to defend, given sufficient warning. And Trella would provide another rallying point for resistance. Korthac preferred to capture her alive, if possible, but dead or alive, the house must be taken before it could become a stronghold to rally the city’s inhabitants.
Korthac had given that dangerous assignment to Hathor. The man could think while he fought, and he knew the importance of capturing the house.
“As soon as Takany’s inside the river gate, I’ll join you at the house, Hathor. Just hold the gate open until I arrive.”
“Yes, lord. The gate will stay open.”
“Then by tonight, we will rule in Akkad,” Korthac said. He looked from one to the other. Neither man showed any sign of doubt or fear. They’d fought at Korthac’s side before, and he’d always led them to victory. They understood the plan, and had no questions. They were ready.
“Prepare your men,” Korthac ordered. “It is time.”
En-hedu pretended not to notice Korthac’s men moving about, and kept hawking her wares at every passerby, often following shoppers for a dozen steps up and down the lane, a convenient excuse to move about and study any goings-on. The sun had begun to sink toward the western hills when she noted Hathor leaving Korthac’s house, accompanied by four men, two of them carrying rolled-up blankets under their arms. En-hedu thought that a little odd; she’d never seen Hathor go anywhere with more than one guard before. She called out to him, but either he didn’t hear or had no time for her usual banter.
By now business at the river dock would be winding down, and certainly no boats would be setting forth so close to sundown. En-hedu still puzzled over what it might mean when Simut, another of Korthac’s bodyguards, departed the house, accompanied by three more men. Again, two of them carried bulky bundles.
Unsure of what, if anything, these strange goings-on meant, she knew she must tell Tammuz. En-hedu began packing up her leather goods displayed upon the cart’s frayed blanket. The blanket also served to transport the items, and in a few moments it resembled the bundles Korthac’s men carried, only shorter. Using two mismatched leather strips, she fastened the ends of the blanket to seal it.
Her mind kept working, however. Weeks had gone by with nothing out of the ordinary. Now many of the Egyptians were moving about, and the change in their manner worried her.
By the time she finished packing up her goods, she heard voices speaking Egyptian, and looked up to see Korthac exit the house, accompanied by two of his men. Again, one of Korthac’s followers carried what seemed a heavy bundle, this one a bit longer than those carried by the other men.
En-hedu never looked up, even when Korthac passed within an arm’s length of her cart. She watched his feet through her tangled hair, and waited until he disappeared down the lane. The sight of the grim Egyptian worried her. She felt tempted to leave the cart, but an abandoned cart might call attention to herself. Best to move it as she did every night, shoving it down the lane, back to Ninbanda’s house, where it would be safe.
But before she could start the cart moving, a fourth group of Egyptians stepped into the lane.
Staring at their feet, she counted five of them. The number surprised her. That meant the three houses were now empty, whatever contents the dwellings contained left unguarded. In the six weeks she’d watched the houses, Korthac never had less than half of his men inside, guarding his property.
This last group, however, did not go toward the river. Instead they went up the lane, toward the center of Akkad. She watched their backs for a moment, then leaned her weight against the cart, which yielded reluctantly with a screech of wood against wood. En-hedu, alarmed now, used all her strength to keep the cart moving, unmindful of those who had to dart out of its path as it creaked and wobbled along. When she reached Ninbanda’s hut, she didn’t pause, just shoved the cart against the hut’s entrance as she called out to the woman to attend it. En-hedu hurried down another lane toward the alehouse.
Something was wrong. She found herself running, clutching the heavy blanket of wares to her chest and dodging between the work-weary villagers plodding back to their homes. Breathing hard, she turned into the narrow lane that led to Tammuz’s alehouse, ducked past two men who tried to greet her, pushed through the half-open door, and ran inside.
Kuri looked up at the noise, but she ignored his usual smile. “Where’s Tammuz? Is he here?” She dropped her bundle, worried that Tammuz might have been watching the house, might even have followed Hathor or Simut’s party.
But Tammuz stepped out from their private room. He’d heard the door bang and her excited voice.
“En-hedu, what’s…” One look at her face silenced him.
She pushed him back into the bedroom and closed the door. Keeping her voice low, she described what she’d seen.
“These bundles… how big were they?”
En-hedu held her hands an arm’s length apart. “The blankets that Korthac’s men carried were longer, and thicker, too.”
“Mmm, not long enough for bows.” Tammuz’s eyes widened. “Swords?
Could they have carried swords?”
“Yes, I suppose… I didn’t hear anything clanking.”
Swearing under his breath, Tammuz scooped up his belt and swung it around him. From habit, En-hedu helped him fasten it, fear rising in her when she saw him loosen the knife in its sheath.
“I’m going to Eskkar’s house to warn Trella,” he said. “You stay here with Kuri.”
He slipped through the door, then out of the alehouse, moving at a run.
En-hedu stood there, stunned. What could Tammuz do, with one good arm and only a knife? If there were trouble, he would…
She stepped back into the common room. One of the patrons saw her, and called out for another ale and something to eat. En-hedu stared at him unheedingly, then noticed his companion. The man carried a knife on his belt.
“I need to borrow this,” she said, moving so quickly that she’d pulled the green-tinged copper blade from the man’s belt before he even realized what she intended. “Kuri, stay here.” She tucked the knife inside her dress, clutching it tight against her body through the thin shift, holding it firmly from outside, and ran after Tammuz, ignoring the voices that called after her.
People filled the lanes. Many had eaten their evening meals and looked forward to a few hours of relaxation before turning in for the night. They frowned at En-hedu as she pushed and bumped her way through their midst, following the path she knew Tammuz would take toward Eskkar’s house.
The sun sank below the horizon. Already the daylight colors had faded, replaced by the grayness of shadows that began to cover everything.
At this time of day it would take some time to reach Eskkar’s residence, and she hurried as fast as she could, breathing hard as she weaved through the strollers. To her surprise, before she’d crossed three lanes, she saw Tammuz walking a few paces ahead of her. Relieved, she slowed to a walk. To add to her astonishment, he turned away from the lane that led to Eskkar’s.
She wondered what could have made him change his destination. About a dozen paces behind him, she opened her mouth to call his name, when…
“Gatus!” Tammuz yelled. “Look out!”
The shout froze everyone in the lane, but only for an instant. Then the dull clank of bronze on bronze shattered the peaceful evening. Tammuz darted ahead, drawing his knife. En-hedu broke into a run, fear rushing through her at what she might find.
A voice shouted in Egyptian, and she heard a man scream in pain as she reached the intersection where Tammuz had shouted. With scarcely enough light for her to see, En-hedu recognized Gatus, his back against a wall and a sword in his hand, fighting off Simut and his men. A man, Gatus’s bodyguard, lay writhing on the ground, bleeding, his cries for help ignored.
Gatus, fending off three men, was about to be overwhelmed when Tammuz slipped up behind one of Simut’s men and stabbed him hard in the back. The man screamed, and En-hedu saw blood gushing from his tunic. Simut saw the blow, and swung his sword at Tammuz, who ducked away from the cut. Seizing the opportunity, Gatus shifted to the opposite side, striking at the closest of his attackers. Gatus’s thrust drove the man back, giving the old soldier a chance to dodge aside and escape. But before he could get clear, the other Egyptian lunged at Gatus, driving his sword into the captain of the guard’s side. Gatus rammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s face with enough force to shove the man back into his companion. Then Gatus, clutching his side, whirled away, and disappeared up the lane, merging with the growing shadows.
Meanwhile, Simut turned to Tammuz, to finish off the youth who’d disrupted Simut’s ambush. He raised his sword and stepped toward Tammuz, slashing at his head. Tammuz stepped sideways as he jerked his knife from his victim’s back. Simut’s sword just missed, but the Egyptian had fought too many times to stake his life on a single blow. Moving smoothly, he followed up with a cross cut at Tammuz’s head, then lunged at Tammuz’s chest. Tammuz, his knife no match against his attacker’s sword, twisted away, trying to avoid the thrust, but he lost his balance and stumbled.
Unable to shift his weight, Tammuz landed hard, on his weak arm.
Simut, with a grunt of satisfaction, drew back his sword and thrust downward.
But before the blow could gather momentum, Simut’s easy kill turned into a hiss of pain. En-hedu, arriving at a run, had drawn the knife from her bosom, and shoved it with all her strength into Simut’s back, a hand’s width above his belt, feeling it sink to the hilt.
The thrust froze the Egyptian’s sword. For a moment he stood there, then with a grunt of pain he turned his blade toward his attacker, mortally wounded but still able to strike. Before the blow landed, Tammuz lunged up from the ground with his knife, burying his blade under Simut’s ribs.
With an incomprehensible curse, the man fell to the ground, the sword striking En-hedu weakly, but with the blade flat, before it slipped from his hand. En-hedu jerked her knife free from Simut’s body, feeling hot blood gush along her arm, and reached Tammuz’s side, helping him to his feet. Gatus had slipped away, his two remaining attackers vanishing after him in pursuit. Half a dozen onlookers, stunned into silence, stared openmouthed into the gathering darkness at the three men lying dead or dying before them.
Tammuz took one look around, shoved the bloody knife in his belt, then grasped En-hedu’s arm. In a moment, they, too, faded into the growing shadows at a run, leaving the shocked and surprised inhabitants to wonder what they’d just witnessed.
Weaving between the unconcerned strollers, Tammuz guided En-hedu down one lane, then changed direction to another. En-hedu looked behind them, but saw nothing. They slowed to a brisk walk. No one noticed them. Here, one lane away, the commotion had gone unheard.
“We’ve got to get to Eskkar’s house,” Tammuz whispered. “Trella needs to…”
“What about Gatus?” En-hedu realized she still clutched her knife in her hand. She stuffed it back inside the bodice of her dress, shivering as the hot blood still on the blade dripped between her breasts. She had to force the image of Simut’s face, showing a mixture of pain and hatred, from her mind. “I saw him run up the lane, with the Egyptians in pursuit.”
“We can’t do anything about him,” Tammuz said, moving her along faster as he got his breath back. “Either he got away, or they’ve caught up with him by now. We need to warn Trella.”
En-hedu realized they’d gone back the way they came, then closed in on Eskkar’s house. The lane twisted and turned, but only one more intersection lay between them and their destination. As Eskkar’s house came into sight, sounds of violence erupted from just outside the gate. They saw a half-dozen men fighting at the courtyard entrance. Tammuz started forward, then stopped, as a wall of Egyptians pushed past them from behind, knocking Tammuz and En-hedu aside in their haste. Tammuz covered En-hedu with his body and pressed her against the wall. They both watched in horror as dozens of foreign soldiers, swords in their hands, charged toward Eskkar’s house. Before Tammuz or En-hedu could overcome their shock and surprise, the Egyptians had raced up and overwhelmed the Akkadians defending Eskkar’s household.
Earlier, when Korthac left his house a little before dusk, he strode past the woman his men called En-hedu without observing her or any of the other vendors. Accompanied by only two guards, his eyes scanned the lane, alert for any signs of danger, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. No longer a stranger, he wended his way through the twisting lanes almost unnoticed by the people of Akkad. The few that did give him a glance didn’t perceive the long knife fastened beneath his tunic.
The marketplace stood nearly deserted as Korthac passed through it, heading toward the river gate. On the way, he encountered several of Akkad’s soldiers, most of them unarmed, and none of whom even glanced at him. By now Korthac knew their routine. They would have finished their duties for the day and already eaten dinner in the barracks’ common room. Now they would search out their favorite alehouses, to enjoy a few hours’ relaxation before heading for their beds and another night’s sleep.
Arriving at Akkad’s rear gate, Korthac found it half-open. Though both gates should have been sealed at dusk, the river gate often stayed open a few extra hours. The guards had pushed the one side closed, but left the other side accessible. People continued to walk in and out, some heading for the river to bathe, while others strolled along the bank, taking their ease or conducting business of a personal nature.
A watch fire burned beside the gate, next to a bundle of torches.
Korthac spotted one of his other four men, sitting against the wall, as unnoticed as any beggar. The man raised his right arm in greeting, and Korthac nodded. The signal meant all of the men were ready and in place.
Korthac continued on, noting that only two guards stood at the gate’s entrance, watching to make sure no strangers entered after dusk.
The gathering darkness made it difficult to be certain, yet Korthac counted no more than seven soldiers manning the gate. Usually a detail of ten secured the river gate, but the number varied, and he’d found nights when as few as five walked their post. Taking his time, he climbed the steps to the right-side parapet. One of his guards followed, the one carrying the longest bundle, while the other remained below.
At the top, three soldiers stood guard, looking down toward the docks and those passing in and out through the gate. The gate commander approached Korthac. Orders said that only soldiers could mount the wall, but exceptions might be made, especially for a rich trader who wanted to see the river and didn’t mind parting with a few coins.
“Greetings, Honorable Korthac,” the man said, “how may I help you tonight?”
Korthac had mounted these steps at least once a day for the last few weeks, to offer his prayers to the river god, he’d explained. Each prayer session, always short, ended with a copper coin for the guard.
“Greetings to you and your men,” Korthac answered with a smile.
“Tonight I have to make a special offering to Enki, the river god, to thank him for the favorable cargo he sent me today.” Korthac nodded to his bodyguard, who unslung the sack he’d carried across his shoulder, then turned back to the guard. “Perhaps you can help my servant with the offering?”
The other two guards, curious at this new ritual, moved closer, as the bodyguard knelt to open his bundle. Korthac stepped behind them, hand on his knife. As the blanket came open, Korthac struck, moving so quickly that he’d stabbed the two guards before either could react, and with only the sound of their moans escaping. The watch commander died at the same moment, a stunned look of surprise on his face, as Korthac’s bodyguard snatched up a sword from the sack and drove it into the soldier’s stomach. The man died without even reaching for his sword, and, more important, without sounding the alarm.
Pushing the bodies aside, Korthac reached down and took a short horseman’s bow from his bodyguard’s hand. It took but a moment to string it and nock an arrow, but there was no need. The soldiers guarding the other side of the gate had died, struck down by his Egyptians who’d moved into place just under the steps as their leader mounted. Some of the dead had cried out, but there’d been no loud clash of weapons. Nevertheless, a few citizens looked about in surprise, wondering what had happened, too confused to understand what they’d witnessed.
Korthac didn’t worry about them. All that mattered was that the alarm hadn’t sounded, and by now one of his men had secured the trumpet.
More Egyptians guarded the two lanes leading away from the gate, ready to stop any messenger rushing toward the soldiers’ barracks with a warning. Instead, Korthac leaned out over the wall and waved the bow. He couldn’t see far into the darkness, but he knew his men waited there, close enough to see the signal and would relay it to Takany and Ariamus’s men.
Looking down into the well of the gate, he saw the rest of his men moving into position, taking station just inside the opening, to make sure no one attempted to shut the portal.
From the darkness, he heard the rumble of many sandals approaching and looked back toward the river. The moment Korthac saw his men running toward the gate, he descended the steps. Takany and Nebibi led the first group of men through without stopping. Fifty Egyptians and an equal number of recruits followed him, all moving at a run directly toward the barracks.
Ariamus, leading another forty men, followed them in, pausing only long enough for Korthac and his six Egyptian bodyguards to fall in step beside him. Korthac had belted his sword about him, and strapped on a bronze helmet, both taken from the same bundle that concealed the swords and bow. The invaders jogged steadily, moving fast enough to cover the ground quickly but not too fast to leave the men exhausted.
Korthac’s force of nearly fifty men headed straight toward Eskkar’s house. Korthac needed to capture it and those inside without a major struggle. He’d seen that the house was strongly built. Given enough warning, even a handful of men could hold out there for some time. His con-tingent had farther to go than Takany and those moving to the barracks, which were closer to the river than Eskkar’s house. Hathor would be positioned there, with orders to wait as long as he could before attacking, to let his leader reach his destination.
The alarm sounded while they still had another lane to traverse.
Korthac broke into a run, his men speeding up behind him. He turned into Eskkar’s lane. A torch burned next to the gate, and he saw a knot of men fi ghting. Hathor and his men had orders to keep that gate open. A clamor rose up from behind the courtyard wall, another trumpet sending its warning up into the darkness, overriding the noise and confusion. The clash of bronze on bronze told everyone fighting raged, and inside the compound Eskkar’s soldiers fumbled for their weapons and rushed to close the gate.
Two of Hathor’s men died fighting, but they held it open long enough for Korthac’s men to reach it. Korthac stopped just outside and ordered them in. Ariamus led the way, bursting through the opening, shouting his war cry. Korthac let a dozen men pass through, then followed them in, guarded by the same two bodyguards who helped kill the soldiers at the river gate.
Another torch still burned in the courtyard, lighting the dead bodies scattered about. Two more of Ariamus’s men had died forcing their way in. The rest of Korthac’s Egyptians formed up around him. He hurried along the house wall toward the house. Ariamus had orders to break in if necessary, and two of his men carried hammers and stakes for that purpose. If necessary, they would drive the stakes into the door and wrench the wood apart.
Korthac saw the tools wouldn’t be needed. The thick door stood wide open. Sounds of fighting came from the house, though that noise ended by the time he reached the entrance.
Ariamus, blood on his sword, met him just inside the door. “They’re in the upper rooms. We’ll have to force the door.” Two men pulled hammers from their packs, and rushed toward the stairs.
“Perhaps not. Bring another torch.” Stepping over the dead body of a soldier, Korthac passed inside and ascended the steps, stopping just below the landing. He rapped on the door with the point of his sword. “Lady Trella,” he called out. “Tell your men to open the door. Otherwise we’ll have to break it down and kill everyone inside.”
Shouts answered him, and from behind the door, he heard men arguing.
“Soldiers of Akkad, the house has been taken.” Korthac waited a moment, while the sounds of men cursing sounded through the door. “Lady Trella, tell your men to surrender. Your soldiers are all dead, and more of my men have captured the barracks. There won’t be any help. If you don’t want your followers to die, open the door.”
He let the arguing go on for a few moments. They had no choice. As soon as they realized no one would come to their rescue, they’d surrender.
Korthac’s men filled the courtyard, some already busy looting the soldiers’ quarters. Behind the door, the defenders kept arguing, their voices rising as they shouted at each other. Some wanted to hold out, others wanted to talk.
“Open the door now, Trella. You need my protection for you and the child.”
“You’ll let the soldiers live?” Her question carried over the bickering, which quieted at her words.
Korthac detected no panic in her voice, only acceptance of the inevi-table. “Yes, as slaves. It’s that or they die.”
They had no choice, and it didn’t take Trella long to convince her guards. He heard the sound of the table dragging across the floor, and in a moment, the bar lifting from its braces. The door swung open to reveal Annok-sur standing there. Behind her stood four men, swords at the ready.
Korthac saw another man, wounded, lying against the wall.
“Tell them to put down their weapons and come out. You and Lady Trella will stay here.”
“Drop your swords, and obey him.” Lady Trella’s voice came from behind the men.
She sounded unafraid, but he’d soon change that.
The soldiers looked at each other, then tossed their swords to the floor in surrender.
“Tie them up, Ariamus. We’ll need good slaves.” Korthac meant his words. A few weeks working as tethered captives under the whip would find them more than willing to join his forces. With Eskkar dead and forgotten, trained fighting men would willingly join him.
Korthac watched as Ariamus and his men secured the soldiers, binding their hands and pushing them down the stairs, to join the other prisoners. In moments, only Trella and Annok-sur remained.
“I’ll send your servants up here, Trella. If you want them to stay alive, you’ll remain in the bedroom.”
“Why are you doing this?” Trella said.
Ignoring her question, he gave orders to have both the upper rooms searched and all weapons removed. Korthac left six of his men to watch over Trella, telling them in Egyptian to kill her if anyone attempted a rescue.
Moving downstairs, he found Ariamus and Hathor waiting for him.
“A messenger just came from Takany,” Hathor said, still holding a sword dripping with blood. “He’s taken the barracks and seized all the weapons. But men are holding out at the main gate.”
Hathor had done well, securing the entrance to Eskkar’s compound.
With Takany’s capture of the soldiers’ quarters, the most difficult objective had been achieved. The only real resistance could have come from the barracks. With that taken, the battle had ended. Korthac’s main goal had been to secure Trella alive and unharmed, so that he could use her to force the inhabitants to his will.
“Ariamus, leave twenty of your men here,” Korthac said. “Take the rest and guard the river gate. Make sure no horses leave the city. Watch the boats and the river as well.”
Korthac turned to Hathor. “Take your men to the main gate. Keep whatever soldiers are left penned up there. Put archers on the walls, to make sure no one leaves the city. When Takany gets here, we’ll bring our men to the main gate and finish the last of the resistance. Afterward, we can begin hunting down any who’ve escaped. By dawn, the city will be mine.”
Unsure of what to do, Tammuz and En-hedu stood there with a dozen others, even after the fighting ended, watching events unfold. Along with a few dozen of Akkad’s stunned citizens, Tammuz and En-hedu had seen Korthac capture Eskkar’s house. Whatever warning Tammuz might have given would likely have arrived too late. By the time he’d convinced anyone of the danger, Korthac’s men would have struck.
Just when Tammuz decided they’d best return to the alehouse, armed men poured out of Eskkar’s house.
Tammuz and En-hedu, like all the frightened villagers, shrank against the wall or into nearby homes while the fierce-looking Egyptians marched by, many with blood still on their swords. After all the invaders had passed, with En-hedu holding his left arm, Tammuz followed behind them, keeping back a safe distance. When they reached the open area before the main gate, he and En-hedu could see that the archers in the towers had refused to surrender. As they watched, shafts flew at the invaders, pushing them back into the lane.
“Wait here,” Tammuz said, nudging En-hedu into a doorway. He slipped as close to the rear of the Egyptians as he dared. He heard Hathor and Korthac talking, along with another man they called Takany, who seemed to be Korthac’s second in command. The three men spoke briefly, but always in Egyptian, and Tammuz had no idea of what they said.
When Korthac finished, Hathor raced off back up the lane toward Eskkar’s house. Tammuz watched as Korthac and Takany positioned their men, to make sure no reinforcements could reach the gate or towers, and to prevent the soldiers within from escaping. Then Korthac stood there, waiting.
Before long, Hathor returned, leading a dozen men carrying torches and escorting Lady Trella, her hands bound together with a leather thong and escorted by two grinning Egyptians who held her by the arms as they hurried her along. They took her directly to where Korthac waited. He spoke to her, then slapped her across the face before taking hold of her wrist and twisting it until she cried out.
Appearing satisfied at Trella’s reaction, Korthac pushed her into Hathor’s arms. “Take her to the gate,” Korthac ordered, speaking in Akkadian to make sure Trella understood his words. “If the soldiers don’t surrender, kill her.”
Stunned at Trella’s treatment, Tammuz watched as Hathor led Lady Trella out into the open space behind the gate.
“Soldiers of Akkad,” Hathor shouted, his powerful voice echoing throughout the area. “If you don’t lay down your weapons and surrender, Lady Trella will be put to death, and then we’ll kill everyone in the towers.”
Tammuz saw that Hathor stood beside Trella, an easy shot for most of the archers in the tower. But everyone knew what would happen to Trella if an arrow struck him down. Hathor waited a few moments, then called out again. “For the last time… surrender now, and you will live.”
He pushed Trella forward. “Tell them.”
“Soldiers, come down from the towers.” Trella’s voice carried easily to the walls. “Don’t resist. Save your own lives.”
Tammuz shook his head. Never had he thought such a thing could happen.
“Korthac’s too wise to stand out there in the open, where an arrow could take him,” En-hedu said, watching the spectacle. She’d ignored Tammuz’s order to stay behind and moved up to join him. “He lets Hathor take the risk of dying.”
“This is bad,” Tammuz said. “The guards will have to surrender.”
“We should get back to the alehouse,” En-hedu whispered. “We can’t do anything here. They may start killing everyone in the streets.”
“As soon as I see what happens. I have to make sure.”
Shouting voices came from the towers, but the debate didn’t last long.
The twenty or thirty men, divided between the towers and outnumbered by at least five times their strength, had no choice but to yield. Without weapons, food, and water, they couldn’t hold out. At Trella’s urging, they put down their weapons and filed from the tower.
By then Tammuz had seen enough. With all resistance ended, the terror would begin. “Let’s get out of here, before the looting starts.”
He hurried En-hedu along, his knife held tight against his side. But they didn’t encounter any of Korthac’s men, and soon reached Tammuz’s establishment, as dark as every house on the lane. No one would burn even the smallest lamp tonight, afraid to attract any attention from their new masters.
A worried Kuri let them into the alehouse, sword in hand, and barred the door behind them. Only a faint glow from the fireplace embers gave any illumination.
Tammuz peered into the common room, but saw no one.
“I chased them all out, and told them not to return until morning,”
Kuri said. “They’ll be busy enough, picking up whatever they can steal in all this confusion.” Using a shard of pottery, he lifted a glowing ember from what remained of the fire, and carried it into Tammuz’s private room, where he touched it to the oil lamp.
He blew on it gently, until a tiny flame appeared, enough to reveal another presence waiting for them.
“What’s happening out there?” Gatus lay across Tammuz’s bed, one hand clutching his side, his voice weak and full of pain. His still-bloody sword lay beside him, close to his hand.
En-hedu pushed past the men. She lifted the lamp and moved it closer to Gatus. “Hold the lamp here, Tammuz, while I look after his wound.”
Lifting his garment, she moved aside Gatus’s hand and examined the gash just above his hip. She’d tended enough cuts and scrapes at the tannery, though nothing as deep as this. “He’s still bleeding. His arm is cut and his side. The blade must have passed through his arm.”
“An arm’s not very good as a shield,” Gatus said, wincing in pain. “Just tie it up. I have to go… get to my men.”
“You can’t go anywhere, Gatus,” Tammuz said, his voice sounding harsh in the small room. “Trella’s been captured, the barracks and both gates seized. All the soldiers have been taken prisoner, except for the ones who died. Korthac rules Akkad.”
“Korthac! That Egyptian dog…”
“By dawn, half of Korthac’s men will be searching for you. Simut must have had orders to kill you. Instead, we killed him and one of his men. The Egyptians will want revenge for that. They’ll want you, or your dead body.”
“That was you? My thanks for that stroke, Tammuz,” Gatus said. “Did Kuri teach you how to fight?”
“Thank En-hedu as well. She saved both of us.”
Gatus looked at En-hedu in confusion, so Tammuz recounted the fight and described Simut’s death, while En-hedu cleaned the soldier’s wounds.
“He can stay here,” Kuri said. “I mean… he’s bleeding pretty bad.”
“They’ll search everywhere, including here,” Tammuz said. “We’ll have to find someplace else.”
“We’ll hide him here, on the roof,” En-hedu said. She tore a piece of cloth in half and turned to Kuri. “Help me lift him.” They lifted Gatus’s shoulders up off the bed, enough for her to slip the cloth underneath him.
She used another piece of linen to thicken the bandage, and tied it tight around his waist. Then she bound up his arm.
Straightening, she faced the two men. “They’ll search here, but they won’t go up on the roof. We can distract anyone who comes looking, if need be, and make sure they don’t poke around too closely. He can stay up there in the hiding hole all day, or at least until they’ve come and gone.”
“All day in the sun? He’ll bake…”
“We’ll give him a blanket to cover himself,” she said. “And some water.
With luck, they won’t find him up there. After they’ve searched, we can bring him back down.” En-hedu looked down at Gatus. “He needs a healer, but that will have to wait, at least until tomorrow night.”
“I’ve been in the sun before,” he said, peering from one to the other in the dim light. “One more day won’t kill me.” He choked off a laugh at his own words.
The roof above their heads, the solid part, had a flat space barely large enough for two people to stretch out. But what looked like the end of the roof was in reality a false wall, concealing a narrow niche where Tammuz, like the previous owner, had found occasion to temporarily hide stolen goods. It would be a tight squeeze to get Gatus in the hiding hole, but he’d be out of sight and well hidden.
“We’ll have to get him up there before dawn, so nobody sees him,”
Tammuz said. “If they find him…”
“You and En-hedu should go somewhere safe,” Kuri said. “Get out of the city. I’ll stay here with Gatus.”
“No, we’re not going,” En-hedu said, her voice decisive. “Why would we leave our business? They’d be suspicious at that. It makes no difference to us who runs Akkad. We should tell everyone we’re glad Korthac’s taken control.”
Tammuz stared at her. He’d never heard such hardness in her voice.
“We don’t know how many men Korthac has. They may loot and rape the whole city before they go.”
“They’re not going anywhere,” she said, still speaking with conviction.
“Korthac would have struck weeks ago if he’d wanted to loot and run.”
“If they stay… there will be rapes… the women… no place will be safe.” Tammuz looked at her, worry on his face.
She reached out and touched Tammuz’s arm. “So we might as well stay here.”
“I won’t see you taken by those men, En-hedu. I swear…”
“We have our knives,” she said, “if it comes to that.”
“And my old sword,” Kuri said, patting his belt.
They looked at each other in the dim light. En-hedu raised her arms and placed one hand on each man’s shoulder. “It’s settled, then. We stay, and wait for Eskkar to return. And we stay alive.”
Long before midnight, the last of the fighting for Akkad had ended.
Korthac felt secure enough to station half his followers at the gates and let the rest get some sleep. The most serious fi ghting had occurred at the barracks. A few of the soldiers had managed to get their bows in play, and Takany had lost a dozen Egyptians, while almost twenty of Ariamus’s followers had died.
Taking the barracks had secured the city, and capturing Trella had made the victory complete. Most of Akkad’s soldiers had been in the wine shops and alehouses, and the rest taken by surprise. As important as the men, the captured barracks held almost all of the soldiers’ weapons-the bows, swords, knives, and axes needed to defend the city. With the barracks and Eskkar’s house taken, the remainder of the soldiers had headed for the main gate, trying to rally their forces there.
For a time the soldiers blocked the entrances to the guard towers, but without someone to lead them, they had little choice but to surrender. A few scrambled down the wall and escaped to the fields, but Korthac didn’t worry about them. Ariamus would have men hunting them down in the morning.
Dawn brought a new era to Akkad. People did not leave their houses, huddling inside in fear, while Korthac’s men roamed the streets, looting the shops and random homes, guzzling wine and assaulting women. After letting the pillaging go on for most of the morning as a reward for his men, Korthac issued orders to his Egyptians, and they soon had the city’s inhabitants and Ariamus’s ruffians under control.
The killings began just before noon. All those who had insulted Korthac during his stay in the city died, as did those who spoke out against their new ruler. The nobles and leading merchants, summoned to the marketplace under threat of death to them and their families, swore allegiance on their knees to Korthac. He promulgated a series of orders, the fi rst of which instructed everyone to turn in any weapons in their possession at once.
All persons caught carrying or possessing a sword or bow would be put to death on the spot, along with their families. All persons speaking of Eskkar or Trella would have their tongues cut out. The process of teaching Eskkar’s citizens their new place in Korthac’s world had begun.
Korthac returned to Eskkar’s house by midafternoon, tired and hungry. The long night and hectic morning had wearied him, but he still had one task to perform. Accompanied by Ariamus, he climbed the stairs to Trella’s quarters. His guards moved aside as he stepped into the bedroom.
Annok-sur and Trella rose from the bed as he entered, Annok-sur’s arm around Trella’s shoulders. The room seemed hot, and the smell of fear and blood lingered inside the walls.
“You are well, I hope, Lady Trella?” He kept his voice pleasant and smiled at her discomfort.
“What is it you want… Honorable Korthac. Why have you…”
“Whatever I want is what I’ll have, Lady Trella, and you will not question me again, about anything. You are mine now, as much as Akkad is mine. Follow me.”
He stepped back into the outer room. His men had returned the big table to its proper place, and he stood next to it. Trella moved toward him, and stopped just inside the workroom, Annok-sur a step behind her.
“Come here. Kneel before your new master.”
Trella hesitated. “Honorable Korthac…”
Moving swiftly, he caught Trella by the hair and yanked her in front of the table. He pushed her up against it, then slapped her across the face.
“You are my slave, Trella, for as long as I choose to let you live, and you will address me as ‘lord.’ Do you understand?”
Her hand went to her cheek, and she nodded. “Yes… lord.”
Annok-sur stepped into the workroom, but Korthac whirled to face her. “I did not give you leave to move about.” He turned to Ariamus. “Kill her if she leaves the bedroom.”
“Stay inside, Annok-sur,” Trella said, “don’t let…”
Korthac turned back to her. “You do not give orders to anyone any longer.” He struck her again, harder this time; blood dripped from her mouth and she slipped to her knees, as much from the blow as his order to kneel. “If you speak out of turn again, if you fail to obey the least of my orders, I’ll have the child cut from your body and tossed into the fire.”
He smiled as she moved herself upright, but remained on her knees.
For a moment he was tempted to have her pleasure him right then and there. It would be fitting humiliation for her, in front of a roomful of strangers. But such things could wait, and he felt too tired to enjoy it properly. Besides, every day that passed would add to her embarrassment.
“Keep her in these rooms. The door is to remain open. She is to see no one, speak to no one. If she complains or gives you any trouble, kill her servants in front of her, one by one, starting with Annok-sur.”
Looking down at her, he noticed the thin strand of leather hanging around her neck. He pulled it toward him, lifting a gold coin up from between her breasts. “You’ll have no need for gold any more, Lady Trella.”
With a quick jerk, he snapped the leather, then raised the coin to his eyes.
It was simply a common coin, one with Nicar’s mark on it, and a thin groove. Korthac tossed the coin to one of his men. It pleased him to take it from her. Obviously the coin meant something special to her, and now it, too, was gone. She’d learn soon enough that she had nothing, was nothing.
He reached out and ran his fingers through Trella’s hair, enjoying its texture. Gradually he tightened his grip until her head twisted upward, the hair pulled back from her face, her eyes wide with distress. When she started to gasp from the pain, he relaxed his hand, then gently brushed the few loose strands from her eyes. Yes, she’d give him plenty of pleasure before he finished with her.
Trella sat on the bed, trying to think. In less than a day, Korthac had seized Akkad and established himself as the city’s ruler. He’d killed, captured, or driven into hiding Akkad’s mighty archers. She’d become a prisoner, worse, a slave, only this time she had a child due in a few weeks.
The last word from Eskkar had come three days ago, informing her yet again that he intended to remain in the north a little longer.
Her fists clenched in anger, furious at her husband for taking his pleasures in Bisitun, while Akkad and she fell into Korthac’s hands. How dare he leave her like this. He should have returned weeks ago to protect her. She wanted to… no, she needed Eskkar, needed him to save her and their unborn child. The thought that he might abandon them to their fate, turn away from her and Akkad, frightened her. She thought about his new woman, and that image made her rage increase. Perhaps he’d choose a fresh life with his new concubine, choose to avoid a fight and continue his life in the north. That image tortured her for a long moment, until she regained control of her emotions.
No, she decided. Eskkar would not abandon her. If for no other reason than his barbarian code of honor, he would return to destroy Korthac for what he’d done. If he still lived. Trella shook her head. Without him, if he were dead, there would be no hope to escape the fate that Korthac planned for her and the child. She had to believe that he remained alive, that he would come for her. She could cling to that.
“We must get word to Eskkar,” Trella whispered to Annok-sur, seated beside her. “He’ll need to know how strong a force Korthac has assembled.”
“Don’t forget, Bantor is due any day. Together they’ll…”
“Korthac isn’t afraid of Eskkar or Bantor, Annok-sur. Did you see how many men he has? I counted as many as I could when they took me to the gate. He must have at least a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred. More than enough to control the city and stop anyone from rising up against him. Only Eskkar can rally the people to resist.”
“Assuming that he’s still alive,” Annok-sur said.
“He has to be alive, or we’re all lost,” Trella said. “Besides, how could they kill him up in Bisitun, guarded by Grond and surrounded by his men?”
“Both Korthac and Ariamus said Eskkar is dead.”
“Do you believe them? They offered no proof.”
Her own question made Trella stop and think. Proof would be Eskkar’s head, or a dozen witnesses to his death. She took her time, trying to recall the Egyptian’s exact words, and comparing them to those she’d overheard from the boasting Ariamus. Korthac had claimed his men had struck down Eskkar in Bisitun’s lanes, but Ariamus said Eskkar and his men had been killed in a fight. The slight difference might not mean much, but she needed something to give her hope.
“Korthac knows Bantor is returning,” Trella said, her mind beginning to think clearly once again. “Ariamus has taken every horse he could find and ridden south. They’ll meet Bantor’s men on the road, long before they arrive here.”
“Bantor has plenty of men, trained men. They won’t be easy to defeat.”
Trella shook her head. “No, Korthac must have some plan in mind.
If Bantor’s force is defeated, even driven off, Korthac can turn his full attention to the north. He’s defeating Eskkar’s forces piece by piece. That’s his plan.” She reached out and took Annok-sur’s hand. “I fear for your husband.”
“Ariamus will find killing Bantor harder than he thinks. Bantor hates the man since… from the old days, when he was captain of the guard.”
She put her arm around Trella. “And Eskkar isn’t easy to stop, either.”
“I wanted Eskkar back here, but now… it’s better that he remains up north. He might be safer there.”
Both women stayed silent for a moment. Their hopes for survival depended on their husbands living long enough to rescue them.
“Is there anything we can do, Trella? I mean, can we kill Korthac somehow?”
“Even if we could, his Egyptians would cut us to pieces, then slaughter half the city. And I saw his face. He’ll use any pretext to beat me, but he’s looking for an excuse to kill you, to keep me in fear of him. You must not give him any reason. No matter what he does to me, keep still. Don’t provoke him. I need you to stay alive. Promise me that.”
“You know what he’ll do to you. He’ll want to show everyone in Akkad that you belong to him now, that you’re nothing more than his slave.”
Trella touched her swollen face, still feeling the sting in her cheek from where Korthac struck her. “Whatever Korthac wants, we’ll do. We need to stay alive, at least for now. In a few days, if we find everything is hopeless, then I’ll try to kill him.”
“He’ll use the child to control you.”
“The child will have to die. I know that. He’ll want no reminder of Eskkar or me left alive.” She shook her head at the thought. “I’ll kill the babe myself, if it comes to that.”
Trella reached out and took Annok-sur’s hand. “You’ll die as well. He surely knows what role you played in gathering information. As soon as he thinks he’s secure, then we’ll no longer be needed.” Trella shrugged.
“I have the birthing knife, Trella, if it comes to that. Though I prefer trying to slit his throat with it.”
During the confusion, Trella had seen Annok-sur slip the small knife inside the lamp. But the tiny implement, a special gift from Drusala, and meant to be used to cut the umbilical cord, had a blade no longer than Trella’s finger.
“It’s not much of a weapon against Korthac,” Trella said, “although it may serve to end our own lives. Keep the knife safe, Annok-sur. We may have to use it on ourselves. Until that day, we obey our new master. We must stay alive, for the child’s sake, if nothing else, and to give Eskkar time to gather his forces. As long as we obey Korthac instantly, as long as he thinks we’re of use to him, he’ll keep us alive for a little while longer.”
“So we grovel before this Egyptian.”
“We grovel, Annok-sur.” Out of habit, Trella reached for the coin that she’d worn around her neck since Eskkar first gave it to her. Her freedom coin, he’d called it. Now it was gone, given to another, as vanished as her freedom. “We grovel, and we wait.”