by Sam Barone
She stood. “Stay with him, Daro. I think he needs your company more than mine. I’ll have food sent in for our patient.”
With another smile, she left the room.
For a moment, Sabatu stared at the empty doorway. “For a servant, she speaks boldly. In Elam, she would be whipped.”
Daro laughed. “Well, if you think you’ll be more comfortable back in Elam, you can return there. Perhaps Grand Commander Chaiyanar will restore your rank.”
The name struck Sabatu like another blow from the lash. He remembered being dragged, hands bound behind him, into Chaiyanar’s presence. The always affable Grand Commander had informed Sabatu that King Shirudukh had condemned Sabatu and his family to death.
Sabatu had tried to protest, but one of the guards had punched him in the stomach so hard that his breath fled his body. By the time he recovered, Chaiyanar had dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand, and they dragged Sabatu out of the Palace. When they reached the barracks, the beatings began.
As the horrific memories overwhelmed Sabatu, he felt hot tears on his cheeks. His wife, his children, tortured and murdered before his eyes, his life destroyed at the whim of the brutal King, who let nothing stand in the way of his desires.
“In Akkad,” Daro kept his voice soft, but a hard edge crept into his words, “we do not torture the women and children of those sentenced to death. Such a punishment as you’ve suffered has never been witnessed in Akkad.”
He reached down and gently clasped Sabatu’s shoulder. “I risked my life to rescue you, but if you are unwilling to help us resist the armies of those who tortured you, then so be it. As Lady Trella said, you will be free to go as soon as you are able.”
Sabatu frowned. “Who’s Lady Trella?”
Daro’s voice resumed its usual cheerful tone. “The woman who gave you the water with her own hand. Lady Trella. She’s the only reason you’re alive. The Queen of Akkad.”
Chapter 1
Fifteen days later . . .
When Eskkar entered the Workroom, he found Trella and Daro already there. The King of Akkad took his seat behind the long table with an unusual sigh of satisfaction. The oversized and comfortable chair, made especially for him, provided a welcome relief from the back of his horse. A tall man with a frame still covered in hard muscle, Eskkar seldom enjoyed a comfortable place to sit and take his ease.
The Workroom, on the upper level of Eskkar’s house, had provided a secure and quiet place for many an important conversation. The chamber held two tables and eight chairs, as well as a large chest. On its top rested all the cups, candles, platters for fruits and cakes, and several red clay pitchers that contained two varieties of wine and fresh water from the Compound’s private well.
The wall behind the table where Eskkar had taken his seat displayed various weapons. Three swords, two knives, a well-polished copper helmet, and a slim throwing lance hung from various hooks. A long Akkadian bow also rested on pegs, with a quiver of arrows beneath. In the center of the display, a leather sling dangled in the place of honor. Over the years, Eskkar had mastered all of them, and he maintained his proficiency by training part of each day.
For almost a month, Eskkar had ridden the foothills and passes through the Zagros Mountains, studying the land and searching for favorable terrain. He’d also met with his allies, the Ur Nammu, as well as the Alur Meriki. A weary Eskkar had come back to Akkad well after sunset last night, and for once he freely admitted to his wife that it felt good to be home.
He’d slept soundly, and an early morning bout of lovemaking improved his good mood. But now Eskkar had duties to resume. And the first order of the day involved his wife Trella and Daro.
“It’s good to have you back, Captain.” Daro used the title Eskkar preferred, at least from his friends and closest companions. More than fifteen years ago, as Captain of Akkad’s Guard, Eskkar had saved the city from annihilation by invading barbarians. “Did you find what you sought?”
Eskkar laughed. “That’s the first question Trella asked me last night. I may have, though we’ll need more work before we can be sure. But I understand that you and Trella have managed to find a well-placed commander in Elam’s army.”
“Daro is the one who rescued Sabatu and brought him to Akkad,” Trella said. She sat at her usual place, at the end of the table, while her husband faced Daro across the long side. “He risked his life, so he should tell you how it all came about. He observed many details that you may find important.”
With the occasional prompting from Eskkar and Trella, Daro related the entire story of his expedition with Yavtar to the land of Elam. The scene in the marketplace in Sushan, the stealthy midnight swim up the river, the search and rescue of Sabatu, the sea chase, and the difficult passage along the edge of the Great Sea until ship and crew reached the Tigris and Sumer.
Eskkar asked many questions about the journey. Daro added more details about the voyage, and explained how Yavtar had raced the boat back to Sumer, and then up river to Akkad. Doubts about whether their passenger would live or die had worried both men.
When Eskkar had heard the whole tale, he turned to Trella. “And how helpful has Sabatu been? Has he told you anything we can use?”
“No, Husband, not yet. He was close to death when he arrived here, and I thought it best to let him recover as much as he could. It’s only been in the last few days that he and Daro have ventured out of the Compound and into the City.”
“But he will help us?” Eskkar glanced at Daro. “You’ve been with him for all these days. He must have said something.”
Daro hesitated. “He has not yet decided to assist us. Naturally he wants revenge against Grand Commander Chaiyanar, but his heart seems to think it would be traitorous to aid us. I thought it best not to push him.”
Eskkar frowned, and he looked toward Trella. “You couldn’t convince him to give us information?”
Trella’s sincerity and power of persuasion had opened many hearts and minds to gain their support. Eskkar had complete faith in her uncanny ability to win people to her side, and if she couldn’t convince this Sabatu, then a problem existed.
“I’ve spoken to Sabatu nearly every day,” Trella said, “but I don’t think he’s dealt with many women before. He’s polite to me, and nothing more. And even though Daro saved his life, Sabatu will not open up to him.”
“I’ve also talked with him several times each day,” Daro said, “and he’s learned our language well enough to converse, but something holds him back.”
“I told him he could leave Akkad whenever he wished,” Trella said. “He’s nearly able to travel now.”
“And you want me to speak to him.” Over the years, Eskkar had learned that whenever Trella didn’t propose some course of action, she wanted him to deal with the situation.
“From what we’ve learned about Elam and its people,” Trella said, “it appears that their leaders and rulers all have their defined place in society. The people are little better than slaves, and everyone does what they’re told. Otherwise they’re publicly beaten, or condemned into slavery. Soldiers strut about the marketplace, abusing the common people.”
“Yet they have a vast military,” Eskkar said, “and have used it to conquer all the lands east of the Zagros Mountain and all the way to the Indus. Whatever the lot of its people, Elam’s government is efficient enough.”
Daro nodded. “Yes, it’s true. But it is not a land I would like to live in.”
“Perhaps that is why Sabatu doesn’t feel comfortable with Akkad’s more relaxed way of doing things,” Trella said. “He was taken aback when he learned that this is our only house, and that we rule the city from here, not some vast palace filled with riches, slaves and servants. Somehow we must convince him that our way of doing things is at least equal or better than Elam’s.”
“Then I think I should see him,” Eskkar said, “and at once. I don’t want anyone, let alone a soldier with Sabatu’s experience and training, wandering throughout
Akkad. Think what he could tell his former masters. The knowledge that we’re aware of the coming war would be harmful enough. He might even be able to trade such information for the return of his old privileges.”
“Yes, Husband, I agree.” Trella turned to Daro. “It’s time for Sabatu to choose his future.”
Noon approached when Sabatu climbed the stairs to the upper level of the Compound’s main house, the wooden treads creaking beneath his feet. His fear – he knew it was fear, even though a soldier should never admit to such a feeling – rose up from his belly to his throat. Daro had delivered the summons. King Eskkar of Akkad wanted to speak with Sabatu.
“You will translate for me?”
Daro had shaken his head. “I won’t be with you, so you’ll have to communicate as best you can in Akkadian. King Eskkar doesn’t speak the language of Elam, and Lady Trella has business in another part of the City.”
Sabatu knew the King had returned only last night from some training mission in the north, and it had surprised Sabatu to be sent for so soon. But he understood what it meant. The time for Daro and the Queen’s gentle persuasions had passed.
When Sabatu entered the main house, a vigilant Hawk Clan guard at the foot of the stairs had briefly studied the visitor, but Sabatu’s simple tunic fit too well to conceal a weapon. Another guard, equally formidable, at the top of the stairs repeated the examination, but both soldiers appeared to trust more to Daro’s nod of approval.
At the upper landing, the second guard opened the door, and gestured Sabatu to pass inside. The door closed behind him, and Sabatu was alone with the Akkadian ruler.
“Come in. Sit down.”
The King spoke slowly and clearly, no doubt aware of Sabatu’s recent learning of the language of the Land Between the Rivers.
No one sat in the presence of King Shirudukh of Elam. Sabatu glanced around the plainly furnished chamber, but the only chairs stood beside the table where the King sat, his back to the wall. No fancy tapestries, no jeweled swords displayed, no statues of gold, nothing to overawe a visitor and remind him of the haughty power of the King. Merchants in Sushan displayed more wealth, the better to impress their clients and customers.
The ruler of Akkad seemed as ordinary as the room. A large man, Sabatu guessed Eskkar would stand a head taller and considerably broader. The King’s tunic, much the same as the one Daro wore, left his arms bare, and powerful muscles rippled under the skin. Dark brown hair, with only a hint of gray at the temples, was fastened with a simple strip of leather. Brown eyes set in a wide forehead examined the visitor. A scar on his cheek lent a grim look to Akkad’s leader. Sabatu knew the King was an old man, in his middle forties, but the years sat lightly on his shoulders.
Even in his brief stay, Sabatu had heard many stories of King Eskkar’s prowess and fighting skills, and dismissed them as the usual tales circulated about every ruler. But now, seeing the man face to face, Sabatu decided that the narratives might be true.
The King gestured to the chair opposite his own. Sabatu crossed the room, and bowed low. Unsure of what to do, he held the position, awaiting the King’s permission to straighten up.
“Just sit, Sabatu.” King Eskkar smiled. “No need to bow like that to anyone in Akkad, or anywhere in the Land Between the Rivers. The leaders of Sumer and Isin and the other cities prefer to look at a man’s face, not stare down at the back of his head.”
Suddenly nervous, Sabatu eased himself into the seat, aware that the King’s eyes were studying Sabatu closely. He sensed the power behind those eyes. The King was a leader of fighting men as well as ruler of the wealthiest city in the Land Between the Rivers, and as such no doubt knew much about what went on inside a soldier’s mind. Leaders who could not size up a soldier’s strengths and weaknesses seldom rose to command an army.
“Let me see your hands.”
Sabatu’s eyes widened at the strange request, but the simple command carried the force of the King’s presence stronger than any words from any ruler in Elam. Sabatu lifted his hands onto the table, ashamed of their condition. The broken thumbs, injured for so many days without being set, had healed awkwardly, the bones twisted from their usual position. He could scarcely use them. Sabatu had also lost almost all feeling in the fourth and fifth finger of each hand, the result of the tough ropes that had bound his hands throughout his confinement.
The King took only a moment to examine Sabatu’s hands. “Have you tried to hold a sword?”
“King Eskkar, Daro let me try his sword, but I could not grasp it properly.” Embarrassed, he lowered his gaze. When he lifted his eyes, Sabatu saw the King deep in thought, his gaze focused only on the table.
The silence lingered for more than a few moments, and Sabatu started to think the King had forgotten his visitor, when the King abruptly rose. “Wait here a moment.” Eskkar went to the door and called out to the guard.
The King spoke too fast for Sabatu to follow the words, and the conversation went on for some time, with the guard asking several questions. At last Eskkar returned to his seat across the table.
“It is difficult thing when a fighting man can no longer fight,” the King said, as he settled back into his chair. “I’ve seen many men who had to face that bitter truth. A crushed leg, a lost arm, even a hard fall can end a soldier’s trade. Some lose all hope, others take to drinking too much ale, and a few even kill themselves, unwilling to face their friends and companions.”
The words were spoken without emotion, just a simple statement. But Sabatu felt them burn into his heart. Night and day, he had cursed the shameful fate that had taken the sword from his hands, and turned him into something less than a man. It came as a shock that a king could know such things.
“What did the healer say?”
Sabatu lifted his eyes, and found the King watching him. “The healer, Ventor, says that there is some hope, that over the years, I may regain some use of my hands.”
Eskkar grunted. “Ventor is a good healer, but a bad liar.”
“Yes, King Eskkar. But I believe he meant well.”
“He saved my life when I first came to Akkad, and he healed Trella after she was struck by an assassin’s knife. But giving false hope to a fighting man . . . better to tell a soldier the truth.”
The admission that the King had once been near death surprised Sabatu. “Yes, King Eskkar.”
Sabatu wondered what all this meant. He expected the King to order him to divulge information about Elam, with the threat of more torture or death accompanying the command. Instead, the King spoke about his life.
“Like you, Sabatu, my family was killed. As a boy, I watched my mother and brother die, and my sister . . . I hope that she died quickly. I fled my clan, and had to grow to manhood among my enemies. I was alone, and each day I struggled to survive, always prepared for death.”
A knock sounded on the door, and without waiting for a reply, a tall soldier with a dark complexion entered the chamber. He crossed the room in three long strides and took a seat at the table. Sabatu noted that the man did not seek permission to sit.
“This is Hathor, the commander of Akkad’s cavalry,” King Eskkar said. “We just returned from the north, and Hathor rode with me. I thought you should meet him.”
Hathor nodded at Sabatu, but said nothing.
“Hathor comes from the distant land of Egypt, far to the west. Nearly fifteen years ago, he was once the enemy of Akkad. In the battle for the city, Hathor was wounded and captured during the fighting, before he could kill himself. But he had shown mercy to Trella when she was captured. To repay that kindness, and because she knew Hathor was more than a mere soldier, she wanted to spare him. From that day, he, too, was alone among strangers, but he has become my friend. Like many in Akkad, he has found a home and a new family here. The soldiers under his command fight willingly and bravely.”
Sabatu stared at the Egyptian.
“It’s true.” Hathor’s voice held just a faint trace of an accent. “I can still rememb
er what it felt like to be completely alone and facing death. But King Eskkar and Lady Trella gave me not only my life, but a new purpose. Now my family is not just my wife and children, but my soldiers, and the people of Akkad. In time, they not only forgave me, but also befriended me.”
Another knock sounded, a different pattern, and once again the door opened. The guard stepped into chamber. “They’re here. Should I bring them in?”
“Yes. Thank you for getting them so quickly.”
This time Sabatu knew his surprise showed on his face. The King of Akkad thanking a guard for obeying orders, and no one thought it odd or unusual.
A sturdy young man strode in, and a moment later, two more men, both older, slowly paced their way into the room. One man had a patch covering an eye, and the other appeared lame. They held onto each other, the lame guiding the half-blind.
To Sabatu’s shock, both Eskkar and Hathor rose to their feet, and the tall Egyptian moved quickly to arrange the chairs so that the two older men could sit comfortably.
“Captain, it is good to see you again.” These words came from the young man, who apparently felt free to speak before the King gave permission. Suddenly Sabatu noticed that the man was a cripple, with his left arm hanging awkwardly.
“This is Tammuz,” King Eskkar said, nodding to the young man. “And it is good to see my other companions, Dragan and Ibi-sin. They are brothers, and both of them had suffered torture and injury by the hand of the King of Larsa. At the risk of their lives, they helped me defeat his forces and capture his city, and they have been honored in Akkad ever since.”
The King resumed his seat. “And Tammuz, he fought beside me in my very first fight, when the people of Akkad battled against the invading barbarians. Only a horse boy at the time, he disobeyed orders, took up a bow, and managed to kill a warrior before his arm was crushed. He has been a member of the Hawk Clan since that day. In our war against Sumer, he once again fought for Akkad and helped bring about our victory.”