by Sam Barone
Subutai had started to rise, signifying the end of the discussion. Instead he sank back to the ground. “What did you say?”
“I said . . .” Sargon had to clear his throat, “I said the Alur Meriki might listen to me. I mean, to the son of the King of Akkad.”
Namar nodded. “Indeed they might.”
“They might just as likely take Sargon hostage to threaten his father,” Subutai said.
“And what if they did?” Sargon had no illusions about what his parents would do if that threat came to pass. Eskkar would never deal with anyone who showed such treachery. He would raise another army to destroy the Alur Meriki, and if his son were killed, Eskkar would shrug his shoulders and add that to the reasons to destroy them.
Sargon put that thought out of his mind. “Besides, is it not in their interest to fight these Carchemishi? They will have to fight them sooner or later. Would it not be better for them to do it now, with our help?”
“The Alur Meriki have just fought a battle with your father,” Fashod said, leaning forward in his excitement. “They lost many men. They may not have enough left to defeat these invaders without our help.”
Subutai looked dubious. He turned to Namar. “What do you think of this idea?”
“I think the Alur Meriki will have to cross the lands that these Carchemishi have just traversed. Even if they avoid fighting, they will find the land empty, already stripped bare, if what we heard is true. How then will they eat? Where can they turn for food?”
Sargon knew the answer to that question. The one thing Akkad had in plenty was food, in the form of grain and livestock. If these lands were bare, the Alur Meriki would have to turn to the south. “Akkad could supply both the Alur Meriki and the Ur Nammu with plenty of food. They should understand that.”
“They might at that,” Subutai said. His voice, too, now held a trace of hope. “I could ride with Sargon and we could . . .”
“No!” Fashod shook his head. “You cannot go. You are needed here, to lead the Clan and to prepare for the battle.”
“Fashod is right,” Chinua said. “You must stay here. I will go with Sargon.”
“Fashod should go,” Namar said, speaking quickly before Subutai could start an argument with his second in command. “I would ride with them, but I am too old for such a long and hard ride. It must be Fashod. As your second in command, he can speak with your authority.”
“I will go with Sargon,” Chinua said. “He has been my responsibility for . . .”
“No.” Subutai’s tone allowed for no opposition. “With Fashod gone, I will need you here.”
“I will accompany him,” Jennat said.
“As will I. He will need a strong warrior beside him.”
Those last words came from Skala. Sargon could scarcely believe his ears.
“That is brave of you, Skala,” Subutai said. “But I will need my strongest fighters at my side. Jennat will go. He and Sargon spoke to the Carchemish together, so it is best he accompany Sargon once again.”
He turned to Sargon. “Are you sure you wish to do this? There is a good chance you will be going to your death. The Alur Meriki swore no oath to you, even if you are Eskkar’s son. Many of their warriors are dead because of your father. You could end up stretched out on the ground and tortured by their women.”
Not a pleasant prospect, Sargon knew. All the same, the time to back out had passed long ago. “I will go. You have taken me into your tent, and I have ridden with your warriors. Besides, there is no one else who can ask them to do this.”
“Then you will leave in the morning.” Subutai sounded resigned to the desperate measure. “Jennat and Garal will accompany you. I can’t spare any more men. Each of you will take an extra horse. You will need to ride hard, in order to reach them as soon as possible.” He turned to Fashod. “You will make everything ready tonight?”
“Yes, Sarum,” Fashod replied. “Come, Sargon, we have much to do before we can enjoy the feast.”
“I will send riders to Akkad, to warn them of the danger,” Subutai said. “Meanwhile, do not tell the others about the danger until the feast is over. I will tell everyone in the morning. Let them enjoy this one night of celebration before we start our preparations.”
His words brought somber looks to their faces. In their rush to action, they had almost forgotten the effect this would have on the Clan.
26
Subutai stood and watched the others leave the tent. He knew the enormity of what had befallen the Ur Nammu had not yet taken hold in their minds. Only Namar understood the disaster rushing toward them. Fashod and the others still thought in terms of fighting and dealing with this new enemy.
Nor did Sargon understand what he had brought upon himself. The boy – no, he had to be considered a man now since he had fought in a battle where the enemy had died – didn’t realize that his own death almost certainly loomed over him.
At least I won’t have to tell his father. I’ll be dead, too, as will most, if not all, of the Ur Nammu Clan.
Other than leaving the women and children behind, to fall prey to the invaders, Subutai saw no hope for survival. And neither he nor his warriors would ever leave their families to such a fate. Better to die with honor.
Once before, as a young warrior, he had witnessed the near destruction of his clan. He, too, had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Alur Meriki. That time an outcast warrior named Eskkar and a small band of Akkadians had struck down Subutai’s enemies and saved the last of the Ur Nammu from annihilation.
More than fifteen years had passed since that day, long years during which Subutai had struggled to rebuild the strength and numbers of his clan. Now, just when the Ur Nammu seemed poised to grow strong and powerful again, these new invaders had arrived to plunder the land and destroy his people. Without help, Subutai would be the last Sarum of the Ur Nammu.
He sighed in resignation, and stepped out of the tent. The high-pitched voices of the young and the bustling activity of the women greeted him. The warriors he’d met with had already departed, all except Sargon, who stood talking with – Tashanella? Subutai had to look twice to be sure. She and Sargon faced each other, less than a pace apart. His young daughter, however, had vanished, transformed into a beautiful woman.
Instead of her usual baggy and patched dress, Tashanella now wore a fine garment, with bright red stitching across the neck, and decorated with brown and black beads. Fringes of leather strips revealed her bare arms. Square cut across her chest, this dress revealed the outlines of her youthful breasts, and its shorter length showed her tanned legs. Subutai recognized the necklace of bright yellow and green gemstones that graced her neck. He had given it to Roxsanni years ago.
Subutai didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Tashanella other than barefoot, but now she displayed new sandals whose laces, also fringed, hugged her calves. And she had somehow transformed her usually unkempt hair in long and lustrous waves that fell across her shoulders.
Sargon appeared as surprised and confused as Subutai. He stood awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to say.
Other men and boys passing by stared at Tashanella as well, as if they had never seen the Sarum’s daughter before. Two girls frowned at the young woman who had suddenly appeared in their midst, while three others laughed and smiled at the sight of Sargon, helpless in Tashanella’s gaze.
Her mother, Roxsanni, saw Subutai staring open mouthed. She crossed the space between the women’s tent and his. A moment later, his other and senior wife, Petra, put down her chopping knife and, wiping her hands on her skirt, followed after Roxsanni.
“Come inside, Subutai,” Roxsanni said. Without waiting for his assent or reply, she ducked into the tent the clan leaders had just vacated.
Subutai remained rooted to the spot, his eyes still fastened on his daughter. He clenched his fists. Petra took his arm. “Come inside, Husband.” She lifted the tent flap, waited until he stepped inside, then followed him.
“Wh
at is this . . . display?”
“Sit, Subutai, please,” Roxsanni said. “We knew this day was coming. Now it has arrived.”
“Why is she dressed that way, showing herself . . .”
“You know that Tashanella passed through the rites four months ago. Since then she has tried not to call attention to herself, lest one of the warriors ask for her as a bride.”
“But now she has chosen,” Petra said. “She has fixed her eyes on Sargon. It is for him that she has taken up a woman’s clothes.”
“And you have helped her in this, and you, too, Petra?” Subutai shook his head. “I knew she went through the rites, but I thought she wanted to stay with us awhile longer, until . . .”
“Until some warrior offered enough horses for her, or you decided to reward some brave act, or use her to seal a peace between two families.” Petra shook her head. “Instead she has chosen for herself.”
“None of the warriors in the clan are worthy of our daughter,” Roxsanni said. “Tashanella is too gifted just to sit in a tent and raise babies. She can be one of the Special Ones, allowed to sit in the councils of men.”
In rare instances, women whose wit and wisdom made itself manifest, were allowed to sit with the men in council. Such a woman had not appeared in Subutai’s lifetime, nor in his father’s, but it had happened. Everyone acknowledged Trella, Eskkar’s wife, as one of the “Special Ones.”
“Now it is up to you, Husband, to chose.” Petra took Roxsanni’s hand and squeezed it. “After tonight, every warrior in the camp will want to possess her. The burning in her loins has come to her. She cannot remain here under your tent any longer, or there will be trouble and fighting. Tashanella must have a husband of her own to speak for her.”
Subutai sank to the ground, crossed his legs, and stared up at his wives. Outside, the sounds of the celebration for Chinua’s return grew louder, as voices rose up all around the Sarum’s tent.
Petra allowed Subutai no time to gather his thoughts or raise an objection. “That means, Husband, that the time has come for you to select a husband for our daughter. Is there any of your warriors who deserves such a prize? Is it not better to give her to the son of a king?”
Subutai realized his mouth was open. He felt the urge to order them out, to tell them to send his daughter to him for a good beating.
Both of his wives had helped Tashanella conceal her blossoming womanhood these last months. Even as he spoke with his leaders, his wives would have helped Tashanella dress and array herself. And now they sat united across from him.
“Sargon is but a spoiled and foolish child.” Subutai’s voice filled the tent. “He is nothing but a boy cast out by his father. And his mother, too. Eskkar told me Trella had decided that her son was better off banished or dead, than remaining inside their tent.”
“He is young and foolish,” Petra agreed. “But he will not be young much longer, and I don’t think he will remain foolish. We’ve spoken to Garal and Chinua several times, and Chinua’s wives as well. They all agree that Sargon has changed from what he was the day he first came to us. And if he continues to change, then he will be king in Akkad someday.”
Subutai shook his head. Women constantly whispered about their men behind their backs, always trying to influence their men. Little enough privacy existed in the clan as it was.
“And if he decides not to marry her, or to take her only as a concubine or slave, then what? Or what will happen when he grows tired of her, or if he returns to Akkad?”
Even as he said the words, Subutai knew he was losing the argument. Of course he could order Tashanella to abandon any hope for Sargon, but the time for that might have already passed.
His wives were both good women, and, unlike many other wives sharing a husband, they had formed a bond of friendship. Subutai knew the gods had blessed him with two good bedmates who understood how to use their wits. Now he found it difficult to argue with them. “Roxsanni, knowing what might befall her, you are in favor of this?”
“Wife, concubine, love slave, Tashanella does not care. She would prefer any of those fates to marrying one of the warriors in our clan.”
“You know your daughter’s worth, Husband,” Petra said. “Who in our clan would you give her to?”
Subutai opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could think of no warrior in the camp worthy of his daughter and her special gifts. His wives were right about that.
“And this is what my daughter wants?”
“Yes.” Petra and Roxsanni said the word in unison.
He took a huge breath and let it out. “Then you will see to her protection. I will not have her humiliated over this.”
“Yes, Husband,” Petra said. “We will keep our eyes on them both.”
“You are a wise father and a great leader,” Roxsanni said. “Tashanella will love you even more than she does now.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He looked from one to the other. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. Sargon will be dead in a few days. We may all be dead in a few days.”
He took some grim satisfaction from the looks of confusion that crossed their faces. Then he told them about the invading Carchemishi, and Sargon’s offer to ride to the Alur Meriki.
Just after dawn, Subutai summoned everyone in the clan to the open area near the stream. The unusual order caught everyone by surprise. Everyone crowded close as Subutai, on his horse, faced his people and told them of the events in the west, and the threat that now existed for the Ur Nammu.
Most listened in stunned silence. From the revelry the night before, they now faced the prospect of fleeing for their lives. Some of the women broke into tears, clutching their youngest babies to their breasts. Even the warriors could not conceal all their concern.
Subutai ordered them to bury or hide their most valuable possessions, though he warned everyone the invaders likely would discover such places. They should take only food, water, and all the weapons they could carry. Everything else must be left behind.
Stunned silence continued as Subutai went on. All who could ride would take a horse. Those too old or too young to handle a mount would double up behind a boy or warrior. At the end, Subutai offered a glimmer of hope, telling them that Fashod and Sargon were leaving to seek help from the Alur Meriki, and that riders would also be dispatched to the nearest Akkadian outpost.
From the edge of the stream, just as far away as he could stand and still hear the Sarum speak, Sargon watched Subutai deliver the evil tidings. As the grim words washed over the clan, Sargon held Tashanella’s hand.
At a time like this, such a public gesture would be considered a weakness by most of the warriors, but he didn’t care. Besides, no one in the clan had time for any thoughts about either of them. Survival had suddenly become the only issue.
“Your father will protect you,” Sargon told her.
“He will do what he can.” Tashanella leaned against Sargon’s shoulder. “The danger you face will be even greater.”
Last night, as soon as the feast began, he and Tashanella had slipped away in the darkness. Carrying a blanket, they crossed the stream and left the encampment behind. In a sheltered grove, Sargon spread the blanket on the ground, and with the frantic urgency of youth, they made love in the moonlight.
Sargon, despite the fire that burned in his loins, had restrained himself, taking his time, until Tashanella’s own passions made her forget her fears. When he moved astride her, she moaned in anticipation, and her brief cry of pain turned into a long sigh of pleasure. Within moments, she matched his own ardor, clutching his arms and wrapping her slender legs around him.
For Sargon, too, this was a first time. The first time he’d ever concerned himself with a woman’s needs and feelings. Her desire inflamed him, and he held back as long as he could, until he heard her cry out with the pleasure of the gods. Then he burst inside her, shuddering as he emptied his seed into her womb.
When he collapsed beside her, she held him tight, her strong arms keeping
him pressed against her. They lingered in each other’s arms, whispering words of endearment, words that once Sargon would have thought to be foolish and unmanly. But with Tashanella, he experienced the pleasure of loving someone who wanted him as much as he desired her.
Afterwards, Sargon had revealed both the threat to the clan from the Carchemishi, and the plan to seek help from the Alur Meriki. Tashanella had cried out at the idea, but she lived her life surrounded by warriors, and danger was no stranger to any Ur Nammu, man or woman.
A man’s honor required that he do his utmost to help his kin and his clan, no matter what the risk. Women possessed their own code of honor, one that required them to be strong for their men and their children, and if needed, to fight beside their husbands.
Nevertheless, thoughts of the approaching enemy faded from Sargon’s mind, replaced by the soft feel of Tashanella’s breasts, and her hand that, gently at first, aroused his manhood. They made love a second time.
When they finally returned to the camp, the celebration had ended. Sargon escorted her to Subutai’s tents, where her mother, Roxsanni, waited alone beside the fire’s ashes. She pretended not to see Sargon, but placed her arm around Tashanella’s waist and guided her into the tent.
After the tent flap closed behind them, Sargon slowly made his went to Chinua’s tent and his own blanket., falling asleep almost as soon as he cradled his arms over his head.
Now, in the chill of the dawn, Sargon and Tashanella stood side by side, listening to her father speak to his people.
Subutai finished his speech, and the crowd broke apart, everyone hurrying to their tents. A babble of voices filled the camp, some of the women already wailing in their grief. Tashanella swayed against Sargon, and lifted her face to his. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her lips, a long, lingering sharing of their hearts. When he ended the embrace, tears glistened in her eyes.
“I will come back for you no matter what,” he promised.