Though Trella lived only a few lanes away from the Council House, the journey home always took much longer than expected. Shopkeepers and villagers filled the streets, and the sight of Trella and her guards made it impossible for her to go about unnoticed. Everyone wanted to exchange a few words with her, or even just call out a greeting.
She and Annok-sur took their time, pausing often to chat with those she encountered. Only a few months ago, Trella had walked the entire city almost every day. But now, between her pregnancy and her new role as Eskkar’s representative, she had less time to wander about and meet the inhabitants. Nevertheless, Trella wanted to stay close to Akkad’s people, and so she took advantage of every opportunity to speak with them.
This late in the afternoon, women, their daily chores completed, made up most of the crowd. More than an hour remained before they started preparing their family’s evening repast. Few could resist the opportunity to speak with Lady Trella, the wife of Akkad’s ruler. Young mothers showed off their new babies, matrons pointed out their marriageable daughters, and older women or young widows presented themselves. Many of these sought Lady Trella’s help in finding a husband, a duty she had assumed during the siege, as the casualties mounted among both villagers and soldiers.
The war against the barbarians had improved the status of those serving as Akkad’s soldiers, and Eskkar increased their pay enough so the more senior men could afford wives. As with every task Trella undertook, no matter how minor, she gave it her full attention. At her urging, Eskkar summoned the more experienced soldiers, and Trella met with each of them, taking the time needed to learn what kind of husband each would be, and which woman would best suit him.
She soon had a good number of marriages to her credit. Because she’d helped arrange the unions, the husbands treated their newly acquired women properly, and the brides attended to their duties. Neither wanted the Lord of Akkad or his wife to hear of matrimonial difficulties. Even newcomers to Akkad soon learned to take advantage of Lady Trella’s knowledge and services, not only as a marriage broker, but also as an honest advisor for almost any situation.
By the time Annok-sur and Trella reached Eskkar’s compound, she’d promised to find husbands for two more women. Two soldiers guarded the entrance, and one held the gate open for the mistress of the house. They passed into the courtyard, where the scent of jasmine hung in the air, and tulips in pots scattered along the inner walls offered some color to offset the drab mud-brick walls.
When Eskkar became captain of the guard, he had taken over this large, two-story house with its private garden and separate quarters for servants. The structure, at that time the largest in Akkad, had belonged to a wealthy merchant who valued his privacy as much as his security. Eskkar’s domicile stood to the left, its second story rising up at the rear. The servants’ quarters, as long as the main building, faced it across the sizable open space, and these dwellings formed two sides of the central courtyard.
Man-high walls enclosed the rest.
During the siege, more than forty men had crammed themselves into the servants’ quarters, though at present it housed only twenty guards, most of them Hawk Clan. Klexor, one of Eskkar’s subcommanders, lived there along with his wife and children. Another room remained reserved for guests or travelers.
A large plank table with half a dozen benches capable of seating thirty rested midway between the two houses. In the hottest days of summer master, servants, and guards took their meals there. A few Hawk Clan soldiers could usually be found relaxing around the table, especially in the evening.
These warriors provided constant security for the house and its occupants. Day and night, two men guarded the front gate, while another watched the small garden at the rear of the main structure, with its single, high-set window that opened into Eskkar and Trella’s second-story bedroom. In the evening, two guards took station inside the main house, guarding the steps that led up to Eskkar and Trella’s rooms.
Annok-sur and her husband Bantor lived there as well. When Eskkar became captain of the guard, Bantor and his wife had been too poor to find decent lodgings. Eskkar, with plenty of space in his new dwelling, had offered the neediest of his subcommanders one of the extra rooms in the big house.
The size of the household grew quickly, as soldiers and servants filled the rooms of both structures. Needing help, Trella asked Annok-sur for her assistance, and soon realized Bantor’s wife could run the combined household efficiently and by herself. Once the two women had established the domicile, Annok-sur took over the day-to-day tasks, supervising the buying and cooking of food, cleaning the house, and washing their men’s clothes in the river. Soon Annok-sur directed half a dozen servants and soldiers’ wives inside the big household. With the household duties attended to, Trella helped Eskkar with organizing the village’s defense, always her main task.
Weeks went by as Trella helped arrange the logistics needed to arm and supply the villagers and soldiers. Once Eskkar had that effort in hand, Trella concentrated on helping to train the villagers and get them ready for the coming siege. During the months of preparation she secretly kept to her real goal, the effort to win over the hearts and minds of the common people.
She started with the women, eager to speak with anyone who treated them with the least bit of consideration. Trella soon earned the respect of their menfolk and even the hardened soldiers, who treated her more like a sister than Eskkar’s wife. In the process, and by careful use of Eskkar’s newly acquired gold, Trella gradually built up a small network of spies and informers, mostly women and slaves, who kept her aware of anyone plotting against Eskkar and his new role.
Throughout the city, throughout the land, men talked freely in front of their women, whether slave or free, often treating them as furniture, something of no importance. But many women had sharper wits than their menfolk, though most had learned to keep such heresy to themselves. These women soon learned they could earn a copper coin or two by reporting anything of interest to Trella, who not only paid for the information, but actively sought the help of those who delivered it, asking their opinions and advice. She’d been raised by her father, an advisor to a
ruling noble in a large village far to the south, and he’d taught her to use her sharp wits. Her days as a slave, beginning with her father’s death and ending with Eskkar’s ascent to power, had sharpened them even further.
The information Trella’s spies collected helped Eskkar survive the efforts of the nobles to replace him when the siege ended.
The siege had broken barely two months ago. That day, Eskkar and Trella stood atop the blood-stained wall, victorious over both the nobles and the barbarians. The people, delirious with joy at their salvation from death or slavery, acclaimed Eskkar their lord and ruler. At the same time, they hailed Trella as well, wanting her wisdom and guidance. They understood and respected the soldier who had saved their lives and property, but in the end, they trusted Trella to look after their well-being as much as Eskkar.
Even the nobles had finally seen the advantages of a strong ruler, though they would never have selected the blunt-speaking, barbarian Eskkar. For them, Trella smoothed the way, her intelligence and honesty giving them assurance that their own enterprises would be protected and allowed to grow. With food again on their tables, the people of Akkad relished the return of prosperity. If the bandits and thieves wandering the countryside could be driven off and the crops replanted, security and wealth would soon surpass their earlier levels.
Meanwhile, the rebuilding and expansion of Akkad continued, a gi-gantic task, but one Trella felt capable of accomplishing. Not a trader, merchant, or farm holder, she had no private interests to advance. The nobles and leading merchants saw everything in terms of their own wealth, did everything to increase their gold, their power, and their prestige at each other’s expense.
Trella could focus on the safety of the city, something even the lowliest laborer not only understood but desired as well. As long as she treated everyone fairly and favored no particular noble or merchant, the people would support her and Eskkar. They might grumble at the taxes and some of the new rules, but everyone had learned the value of the soldiers who protected them. Just as everyone knew the barbarians would return someday, seeking vengeance.
What Trella desired most was time, time to secure their position and power. In a few years Akkad would be a strong, fortified city, and she and her child would be safe within its high walls, surrounded and protected by Eskkar’s soldiers. That day remained in the future. Akkad’s hastily built wall needed to be enlarged and strengthened, and more soldiers recruited and trained to defend it. Until then she would neglect nothing, overlook nothing that might threaten her plans, not even something as insignificant as a strange traveler from a distant land.
Trella and Annok-sur entered the main house, stepping into the spacious common room that held another large table where meals were served.
Wooden stairs on the far wall led to the second story. They climbed to the top, where a small landing faced a stout wooden door that opened into the first of the two large rooms that made up Eskkar’s private quarters.
The outer room, what Eskkar called the workroom, held a good-sized table and half a dozen chairs and stools. A tall cabinet that served both as a cupboard and sideboard hugged one wall, and two chests provided storage. Three wide, rectangular windows, cut into the walls near the ceiling and too small for even a child to crawl through, provided light and air. The wall opposite the entry had a second door, as sturdy as the first, that led into Eskkar and Trella’s bedroom.
Trella passed quickly through the workroom and into the inner chamber. Though not as large as the outer room, the bedroom was spacious enough, especially compared to the cramped rooms occupied by most Akkadians. Most of them would be astonished at the idea of having a separate room just for sleeping. Trella knew a family of six or more would live, work, and sleep in this much space, and count themselves blessed by the gods to have walls around them and a roof over their heads.
Only this inner room had a true window, albeit a small one, that opened over a tiny private garden at the rear of the house. A thick wooden shutter framed this opening, with two stout wooden braces to secure it.
A wide, decorated clay bowl resting beneath it held a knotted and coiled rope, for escape in case of fire. As in the workroom, ventilation came from three tiny openings on each wall, set high to let the heat of the room escape more easily. Unlike most of the houses in the city, the architect had provided no access to the roof, where the poor often slept at night to escape the heat of summer.
Eskkar and Trella benefited now from these luxurious arrangements.
A smooth coat of white plaster enhanced the interior walls. The solid floor, made of sanded and joined wooden strips, stopped most sound, and Eskkar’s soldiers guarded the window from the garden below.
The entire compound, with its thick and high mud-brick walls, provided a secure base in a turbulent city. The original owner had designed these rooms to keep himself and his gold secure, and his vices secret.
For its new occupants, these rooms provided one of the rarest and most valuable commodities in Akkad-privacy. Behind the stout doors in the bedroom or workroom, important matters could be discussed without danger of being overheard.
Trella went directly to the chamber pot. When she finished, she untied her sandals and lay on the bed, grateful for the chance to rest her feet and back for a few moments.
“Tired, Trella?” Annok-sur sat on a small stool next to the bed.
“Yes, though it seems strange. I tire so easily, though I’ve done nothing but sit and talk all day.”
“Once the child comes, you’ll be yourself again. Rest for a few moments. I’ll tend to the servants, then come back with something for you to eat and drink.”
Trella closed her eyes and joined her hands across her stomach. Already her back felt better, and as she relaxed, she felt the babe kicking gently inside her womb.
Part of her mind worried about the birth. So many women died in childbirth, especially their first delivery. She accepted the risk involved.
All women did. A wife’s most important role was to provide children, heirs for her husband, to carry on his line. Childbirth might be dangerous, but soldiers accepted their own risk of death in battle, and even farmers in the field suffered injuries often enough.
Still, the thought of the birth ordeal bothered her more as the event drew closer. A month ago, Annok-sur had brought the most experienced midwife she could find to see Trella. The woman lived not in Akkad, but on a farm a day’s walk south of the city. To Trella’s surprise, the midwife turned out to be a woman of about Annok-sur’s age, not the ancient crone Trella expected. Her name was Drusala, and she’d helped deliver babies since her childhood.
Trella stood naked on two wooden blocks before the midwife, her feet spread apart and holding her hands behind her head, while Drusala and Annok-sur examined every inch of Trella’s body, prodding and poking her, looking for lumps or weaknesses of flesh. Then Annok-sur had spread Trella’s labia apart, so that Drusala, on her knees in front of the girl and probing with her fingers, could examine the birth channel.
“Her hips could be wider, I suppose,” the midwife said critically when she finished with her examination. “But she is very strong, even though she doesn’t work in the fields. I see no problems with your delivery, Lady Trella, but I’ll return to Akkad when your time is near. Still, you must walk for at least an hour each day. That will help the child come out without too much pain.”
Trella remembered her words of advice, and she had put them into action. Each morning, right after breakfast, she paced back and forth inside the courtyard for an hour or longer. Trella would have preferred to walk about the city, as she’d done before the siege ended, but there would have been so many interruptions she would never have finished her walk. Besides, such extended strolls had become too dangerous. An assassin had attacked Trella in the street before, and those jealous of her growing power might be tempted to strike again. She would have to be content with her courtyard excursions, at least for now.
The unborn child moved again, and this time the movement brought a smile to Trella’s face. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift, thinking of the future and the heir she would give to Eskkar.
She hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish. So much depended on Eskkar. Without him, her infl uence and authority would vanish. The citizens of Akkad would never take orders from a woman, no matter how much they liked or respected her, let alone an outsider and a former slave at that.
Trella hadn’t wanted him to go, but the countryside needed to be pacified and brought under control. And though she hated the risks, she knew Eskkar was the best choice for the task. With Bisitun taken and under Akkad’s authority, the situation would be different, and she would insist he remain in the city. He hated the inactivity and petty disputes that found their way to him every day, but he would have to accept it. She needed Eskkar here, and soon his son would need his protection as well.
Trella considered finding him another girl to occupy his time. While she was pregnant, or raising the baby, there would be less time to pleasure him. She would have to select the girl carefully, of course. It must be someone who could please him without arousing too much of his interest.
Trella sighed at the thought. She didn’t like the thought of sharing her husband with another woman. So far, it hadn’t seemed a problem. His love for her remained ardent. But a strong man needed more than one woman, at least occasionally. If she didn’t provide one, the village elders might convince Eskkar of the need to take a second wife, if for no other reason than to weaken Trella’s influence. No, it would be better to do it herself, one more task to occupy her time. Fortunately, she didn’t need to deal with it today. When he returned from the north, she would speak to him about it.
Now she worried about the dangers Eskkar would face. She hated being idle while her husband prepared for battle somewhere in the north.
And today this stranger from the land of Egypt arrived and intrigued her.
Trella closed her eyes again, and worried about the coming child.
Annok-sur slipped quietly into the bedroom, thinking Trella was asleep. But the girl stirred when Annok-sur set the tray of dates, wine, and water onto a round table scarcely bigger than the two plain stools that stood beside it. Annok-sur sat down on the one closest to the bed and ran her fingers through her brown hair, already touched with a tinge of gray though she had one more year before her thirtieth season.
“I should get up,” Trella said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No, stay there,” Annok-sur said, “supper is at least an hour away.”
She pushed the table closer to the bed. “Eat something. The child must be hungry.” Annok-sur knew that Trella did not intend to let her pregnancy interfere with her work.
Trella clasped her hands behind her head. “There is a stranger in town, Annok-sur. A trader from the lands far to the west, the land called Egypt. Or so he claims. He says the land there has many cities and villages, some with walls of mud-brick as high as our own. This man plans to trade gemstones here in Akkad.”
Annok-sur had heard of the mythical Egypt from her husband, Bantor. “So the land of Egypt exists! It is said that food falls from the branches of the trees, and that gold and silver are everywhere underfoot.” She shrugged at the fable. “What does it mean to Akkad?”
“Nothing, I’m sure. It’s far away, and the great desert makes travel nearly impossible. Even bandits can’t raid across that expanse. That’s what interests me about this trader. He wants to open a merchant house here, and begin trade with Egypt.”
Like Trella, Annok-sur kept her voice low, more from habit than any need. The servants had proven trustworthy, and no strangers or guests stayed in the main house. Nevertheless, outside of these rooms, spies lurked everywhere, looking to sell whatever gossip or secrets they heard to one trader or another. Women, if they had any wits, learned at an early age to whisper among themselves; the less men knew about their wives and daughters’ dealings, the better.
“Bantor told me the lands to the west of the Euphrates are wild, filled with only savage people who can withstand the desert heat. He traveled three days into those barren lands once, chasing a murderer, before turning back empty-handed.”
“Yes, the wastelands are desolate and dangerous,” Trella agreed. “Even Eskkar has never gone very far west of the other river. So trading across the desert will be a great risk.”
“This merchant… what is his name?”
“Korthac. You saw him leave the Council House. He has delicate features, almost like a woman’s. His eyes are sharp and miss nothing.”
“Ah, yes, I remember seeing him. So this Korthac will trade gemstones.” Annok-sur thought for a moment. “There’s always much demand for such goods. He can sell all he wishes in Akkad, now that the boats are again moving up and down the river.”
Rising from the bed, Trella sat on the other stool. She poured some wine and water for them both, careful to add just a mouthful of the spirits in her cup, as she did not enjoy the taste of wine or even the local beer.
“Yes, a steady supply of scarce gemstones would attract even more merchants to Akkad, benefiting all.” Trella took a small sip before taking a date from the platter. “But I wonder what Korthac will send back to Egypt in return. Merchants must trade both ways to be successful.”
The question seemed casual enough, but Annok-sur knew Trella didn’t waste her thoughts on trivial matters. “Well, he would have plenty of gold,”
Annok-sur answered. “He might deal in linens or bronze, or perhaps
…”
Her voice trailed off for a moment as she considered the possibilities.
“When traders come to Akkad,” Trella went on, as she selected another date, “they barter copper and ores for food and clothing. Or timber for tools, or cattle for leather goods or weapons.” She looked at Annok-sur. “If you were a trader, what would you carry back to this rich land called Egypt?”
Annok-sur deliberated the question. Gold, of course. But gold had its limitations. You couldn’t eat it or build anything with it, and its weight made it difficult to transport. Just as important, with every rich merchant making his own coins and setting their value, its worth was often suspect.
So traders used gold mainly to adjust for differences in value between goods, or to represent value that could be carried more easily than bulky merchandise.
Across such a great and dangerous distance, what would one carry back? What would be worth the effort for such a trip? Food and grain would spoil on the journey. Tools and weapons weighed too much for their value. Besides, if the land of Egypt had as many riches as people claimed, it would already have these things in plenty.
“I see what you mean, Trella. But there must be something in Akkad that they lack. Or perhaps he intends to trade only in Akkad. He may have no plans to trade with his homeland.” She shook her head. “We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
“Yes, we’ll see what this stranger buys with the gold he gets for his gemstones,” Trella answered. “But he did say he meant to trade with Egypt.
So I think we should find out as much as possible about him.” She finished her watered wine, then poured herself a cup of plain water. “Korthac will need furniture for his house, servants to care for him, and food for his kitchen. And he and his men will need women, especially after such a long and dangerous journey.”
Annok-sur smiled. “Yes, I’m sure we can learn much about Korthac and his plans in the next few weeks.”
“Be discreet,” Trella said. “I don’t want him to learn we are spying on him.”
“As a stranger, he’ll expect to be watched. But I will be careful.” Annok-sur got up and moved behind Trella and began massaging her shoulders.
Her fingers worked steadily, and in a few moments Annok-sur felt her mistress relax. Trella nibbled at another date, separating the pit from the meat with her slender fingertips. Her hair swirled around her cheeks, her long lashes accenting her eyes. Even when doing something as simple as eating, Trella demonstrated a presence that enhanced her beauty. No wonder all the men in Akkad watched her with hot eyes whenever she walked the lanes.
“You should drink a little more wine, Trella.”
“No, now that I’m with child, it tastes even worse. Besides, my father warned me that strong drink dulls the senses and weakens the wits. He never drank wine at all, only a cup of ale with his supper.”
Most of the nobles, including their women, drank as much wine as they could afford. Annok-sur had never seen Trella with the glazed eyes or slurred speech that showed the effects of too much wine or even the local beer, which nearly everyone consumed in large quantities. In the old days, the days before Trella, Eskkar had passed out often enough from too much ale. But Eskkar stopped the heavy drinking the day he met Trella, restricting himself to a few cups of well-watered wine or ale a day. Even Bantor, despite the fact that her husband could now afford as much wine as he wanted, drank only enough to wash down his supper.
Trella pushed her plate away. “Even the dates taste different. I don’t think the child cares for them.”
“You should rest… sleep a little more before dinner.”
“I will.” She sighed. “Eskkar is gone barely a week, and already I miss him.”
“He will be away for at least a month. And already the people accept your rule. They feel as safe with you as they do with Eskkar.” Annok-sur stopped massaging. “Now rest, for the child’s sake if not your own.”
Trella moved back to the bed, letting herself stretch out. “You worry too much about me, Annok-sur.”
“After you’ve had a child or two, you’ll know enough to rest whenever you can.” Since her marriage to Bantor, Annok-sur had delivered three children. The first died stillborn, the second from fever before it reached its first year. Only the third child, her daughter Ningal, born five years after her marriage, survived, but since the long and painful delivery, Annok-sur had not gotten pregnant again.
Trella folded her hands on her stomach. “Even now, he’s moving inside me. Can you feel him?”
Annok-sur sat beside her on the bed and placed her hand beside Trella’s. “Only six months pregnant, and already the child seems strong. It will be a boy, I’m sure of it.”
“Eskkar is a strong man. He will give me many sons.”
“Yes, mistress, you will have many sons. And I’ll help you care for all of them. Now try to sleep, while I think about this Korthac. I’ll stay here with you.”
“You’re like the older sister I never had.” Trella closed her eyes, and it took only a few moments before she slipped into sleep.
Annok-sur gazed at her mistress, watching her breasts rise and fall with each breath. She did think of Trella as a sister. As a child, Annok-sur had often longed for a little sister to be a companion. Instead she’d grown up with three brothers on a small farm just outside Akkad, and her parents admonished her childish request for a baby girl. Instead, they gave thanks to Ishtar for her brothers, who could share the farm’s labors.
Her parents soon had their only daughter selling vegetables in Akkad’s market. There Annok-sur, a plain but sturdy girl only a few months into the mysteries of womanhood, first noticed a young farmer gazing open-mouthed at her. Something about his wide brown eyes made Annok-sur smile back at him. Nevertheless, it took Bantor three days before he gathered enough courage to speak to her. A few weeks later, Bantor, only a year or two older than she, stood before her parents.
“Honorable Father, I have five copper coins for a wife. It would please me to give them to you for Annok-sur.”
Her father had asked for double that, but Bantor only shook his head.
“Five is a good price for a young bride,” he answered stiffl y. “And it is all I have.”
Annok-sur’s heart had faltered when Bantor turned away, ready to leave. But her father relented. The coins changed hands, and in a few moments, her future husband led her away from her family, while she clutched the few things she possessed to her breast. That day, she stood beside him facing the image of Ishtar, and became Bantor’s wife.
Together they worked on his father’s farm for six years, hard toil from dawn to dusk, but Annok-sur’s body grew strong from the years of laboring. She was pregnant with her third child when Bantor’s father died. His oldest brother took possession of the farm and, by the custom of ascen-sion, ordered Bantor to leave. She and her husband owned nothing but the clothing on their backs and two food bowls. Desperate, they moved to Akkad where Bantor sought work as a common laborer, eager for any menial job. The birth of their daughter caused even more hardship. Raising Ningal, the three of them lived with another family, who charged them rent to occupy one corner of their single-room hut. Annok-sur baked bread, worked in the market, and joined the farmers during harvesttime, any work she could find to supplement her husband’s efforts.
Their first two years in Akkad, they seldom had enough to eat, and Annok-sur watched her husband grow ever more dour and grim, as their life of poverty drained his spirit. When they had no coins for food, she resorted to selling herself along the riverbank with the other prostitutes.
On those occasions, Bantor would look away, embarrassed at his failure to provide for them. Even Ningal proved a disappointment, a frivolous child who complained often.
Another year went by before Bantor found work as a recruit in Akkad’s guard. He hated the long days on guard duty, each dreary task interrupted only by another just as wearisome. The occasional assignment to track down runaway slaves proved more to his liking, and provided him a chance to get away from the crowded village and breathe once again the clean air of the countryside.
Annok-sur’s world, too, began to shrink as the burden of life grew heavier and heavier. Once, while Bantor rode after some slaves, the captain of the guard had summoned her for an afternoon of pleasuring him.
That act of humiliation tortured her for months, but she had to obey, lest Ariamus dismiss her husband. Annok-sur never spoke of that incident, but somehow she felt certain Bantor had learned about it. Whatever the cause, Bantor sank into an apathy so deep that he seldom smiled or even spoke.
She scarcely noticed when Eskkar arrived in Akkad. The tall barbarian soon took charge of the horses and most of the pursuits of runaway slaves. Eskkar and Bantor worked together often enough during the next few years, but they spoke little and showed no signs of any particular friendship. Then Ariamus ran off, as word spread of the coming barbarian invasion.
“Eskkar the barbarian will be the new captain of the guard,” Bantor told her, an excited gleam in his eyes. “He has asked me to be one of his subcommanders.”
Stunned, she listened as her husband explained his new duties. The night before, Bantor had told her that they must fl ee the city; as refugees, their desperate situation would only grow worse. Now he planned to stay and fight. For a brief moment, she thought about the coming danger, but one look at her husband convinced her; his face hadn’t shown such excitement or intensity in years.
“Then you must do all you can to help Eskkar,” she said, placing her arms on his shoulders. “If he can manage to defeat the barbarians, you will be one of his subcommanders, and he will remember your loyalty.”
Bantor’s fi rst test of courage and loyalty came not against the barbarian Alur Meriki, but against one of the ruling nobles that wanted Eskkar out of the way. Instead, the rich merchant had died, and Eskkar had taken possession of the man’s house. Aware of Bantor’s difficult situation, Eskkar invited his subcommander to move into the spacious quarters. Annok-sur remembered the tears that came when she saw the chamber, a whole room they would have to themselves, the first such luxury they’d ever had.
Then she met Trella, Eskkar’s new slave. It took only a few encounters for Annok-sur to realize how sharp Trella’s wits were, how carefully she considered everyone’s words, and how deep she saw into people’s hearts.
The gods had surely arranged the joining of Eskkar and Trella. Between them, they saved Akkad from rape and ruin.
Annok-sur soon took over the task of managing the large household, leaving the young slave girl plenty of time to work with Eskkar preparing for the siege. She had labored side by side with Trella during the assault, astonished at each task Trella undertook, and more amazed at how she achieved each goal. They’d both risked death during those evil days, helping defend the wall during the attacks, and tending the wounded afterward. Even before Eskkar vanquished the barbarians, Trella set her mind to a new task: to ensure that she and her husband ruled Akkad for the rest of their days. To that end, Trella still labored, influencing all the men and councils of the new city to her will.
Annok-sur had joined the venture with all her heart and strength, determined to make certain that Trella succeeded. Even Bantor had changed under Eskkar and Trella’s influence. Now he thought more before acting and, watching his captain’s example, had learned to take heed of Annok-sur’s words.
“We must follow wherever they lead,” she told Bantor. “They will rule this city someday, and Eskkar will remember who stood at his side. A chance like this might never come again.”
Bantor heeded her advice, and as his responsibilities and prospects grew, he’d somehow returned to the ways of his youth, softening his words and touch toward Annok-sur, and for that she gave thanks every night to Ishtar. Only the great mother goddess herself could have sent Trella to them. The two women had grown closer than sisters in many ways, working and planning together to secure Eskkar’s rule over the city.
Pushing the past out of her mind, Annok-sur returned her thoughts to Korthac. She had many tasks to start in motion. The women of Akkad would begin watching the Egyptian’s every move and reporting back through the network of spies and informers Trella and Annok-sur had established. Soon, she was sure, they would know all about this Korthac.
The future of both women depended on so many things beyond their control. Only moments ago Annok-sur had glimpsed the long scar, stretching from Trella’s left armpit to her hip. An assassin had come within a finger’s width of killing her, and anyone in Akkad with a few coins in his purse could hire a villain to do murder. Annok-sur worried every time Trella walked the streets, even though two alert bodyguards accompanied her. And now Eskkar had gone off riding around the countryside, risking his life for the chance to play warrior like any common barbarian. An arrow in the back or a knife in his ribs, and everything Trella had worked so hard for would come crashing down around them.
Well, Annok-sur could do nothing about Eskkar. The man took as little heed of his own life as he did of Trella’s. Nevertheless, Trella needed Eskkar, needed him to protect not only her and the child-to-come, but Annok-sur and her husband Bantor as well. Both women realized how dangerous their position in Akkad really was. One slip, one mistake, and they could all vanish. During the siege, everyone had clamored for Eskkar and Trella to save them. Now, if Eskkar got himself killed, Trella’s authority would disappear. Everyone would remember her days as a slave, and Trella’s control of the nobles and soldiers would vanish like the morning mist on the river.
In a year, even six months, Annok-sur knew things would change. Eskkar and Trella would soon have an heir, and by then the people would be used to their rule. Wealth would flow into Akkad and be shared by all of its inhabitants. The people would be happy and content; gratitude and praise would flow to Akkad’s rulers.
Annok-sur sighed and stood. She picked up Trella’s comb from the side table and arranged her own hair, then left the bedroom closing the door silently behind her. She still had an hour before night set in to spread the word about Korthac. By tomorrow, half the women in Akkad would be watching his movements. But her thoughts flowed in the same circles as her mistress, with the same worries. Time would save them all, if there were enough of it. Until then, no one could be allowed to harm her mistress. No one.