“All well for us,” Stone agreed. He smiled. “I don’t suppose you wish to take your captive with you now.”
There was a bark of laughter. “What would I do—use her for a shield? Keep her just awhile longer, smith.”
“What is that?” Honey asked the officer, pointing, as she had before.
The man looked. “I’m not sure—and it is my job to be sure. I will investigate.” He signaled, and several other horsemen joined him. They rode out toward the mysterious formation.
Meanwhile Stone saw that the Hittite units had entirely surrounded the Pharaoh’s force. They were about to crush it, attacking from all sides, and kill the Pharaoh or take him prisoner. The final victory was close. He took his wagon in that direction, knowing that there would be more for him to do as soon as the Egyptians were destroyed.
But the Pharaoh did not simply sit there. His troops launched a desperate counterattack. They drove toward the river, where the Hittite flank was thinnest. Their chariots forged into that line, their bowmen firing arrows at a range the Hittite spears could not match. The Hittites were pushed back into the river.
There they stayed, as Stone’s wagon approached. The fighting was so heavy there that Stone could not make out the details, but the fact that it was not moving across the river meant that the Hittites were holding the Egyptians, and soon their other units would close on the Pharaoh’s rear and destroy him from behind.
Then something happened. “Why are they milling about?” Honey asked.
Stone peered at what had been the center of the Egyptian camp. “The fools!” he exclaimed. “They’re looting the camp!”
“Isn’t that what soldiers do?” she asked without seeming malice.
“But they have not yet finished with the Pharaoh! As long as he remains free, he is dangerous. They must not let their attention wander from him.”
Indeed, the Hittite officers were screaming at their men, trying to restore order. But the mercenaries, paid only by plunder, were too eager to be first at the best.
Seeing this, the remnants of Araon to the north re-formed and charged back toward the camp. There was fierce fighting as the Hittite unit at the north side turned to engage them. But that unit was now weakened by the desertion of its own plunder-seeking men, and in trouble. Stone, having reached the camp so he could be of service to the several stalled chariots he saw there, abruptly had to reverse course to get out of the way of the renewed fighting.
The Hittite units to the west and south moved to support the one to the north. But they, too, were incomplete, because of the indiscipline of the looters. Nevertheless they still outnumbered the Egyptians, and were bound to prevail as they restored their organization.
Except for one other calamitous break. The formation Honey had seen to the west now charged the camp. It was another Egyptian force, Canaanite by their markings: phalanxes ten ranks deep and tightly ordered. They attacked the Hittite force on the western side of the camp, which was ill prepared to meet them. The Canaanites were fresh, while the Hittites had been amidst battle and were facing the wrong way. The Canaanites broke through them, much as the Hittites had broken through the traveling Re division before.
Stone watched in dismay as the complexion of the battle changed again. The Hittites were now at a disadvantage, and were giving ground, leaving many dead. “If only they had finished off the Pharaoh when they had the chance!” Stone moaned. “Then the Egyptians would not have rallied, and the Canaanites would have been too late.”
“I know the feeling,” Honey murmured. Then: “I don’t think we can get out this way.”
He had been hoping she wouldn’t notice. For the Canaanite division had cut off their retreat to the west. They were going to get caught in the midst of the battle.
What was he to do? If they remained here, the onslaught of the Canaanites would catch them. But there didn’t seem to be any feasible escape route.
“Maybe if we follow the Egyptians,” Honey suggested anxiously.
Stone looked, and realized that this astonishing notion had merit. The Pharaoh’s unit was at the river, trying to fight its way across, moving away from the campsite. He should be able to pass fairly close behind without attracting attention, because of the ferocity of the action in the water.
He guided the wagon east and south, picking out avenues between broken chariots of either side. If he found a hole in the fighting, or if the Pharaoh’s unit was finally defeated, they would be able to get free.
But the Egyptians showed no signs of defeat. They were fighting like demons, and their chariots actually seemed to be better in close battle than the Hittite chariots. That was amazing and frightening. Stone kept his wagon moving, hoping for fortune.
“The Egyptians are maneuvering better,” Honey said tightly. “Are we going to die?”
“Of course not,” Stone said. “Our chariots are sturdier, so move slightly more slowly, but each has one more man than the enemy does. That gives us the advantage when one of ours meets one of theirs.”
But that advantage was hard to see, in the melee. The enemy maneuverability seemed to be at least as much of an asset as the Hittites’ third man. Stone wouldn’t have believed it if he weren’t seeing it. The Egyptians were gaining.
Now Muwatallis was driven back across the Orontes. He made a stand on the far side of the river, his troops re-forming around him. He had retained a large chariot force in reserve, which he now was using to block the Egyptian thrust, ensuring that his forces could retreat in good order. Now the line was holding. But the situation was dubious at best, with evening closing and the third Egyptian division approaching from the south. Could he kill the Pharaoh before that other division joined the fray?
Muwatallis did not try. He took the expedient course, and sounded a retreat. His unit and the others moved toward Kadesh, entering it. They did so in disciplined manner, not allowing the Egyptians to attack their rear, but they did withdraw.
The Egyptians did not really try to pursue. They began to draw into their camp, which was now being vacated by the Hittites. Stone hastily guided his horses into the river, hoping the wagon did not get stuck in the bottom muck. The confusion was such that Hittites were encountering Egyptians in the water and passing without fighting, each just wanting to get to safety. Stone, of course, joined the flow. Honey hunched down as if afraid that someone would discover a young woman getting away, and do something about it. She relaxed visibly as they worked their way out of the danger. Soon the smith wagon was through the water, out onshore, and then within the walls of Kadesh. They were safe for the night.
Or were they? All night the men prepared feverishly for a siege. They feared that the Egyptians would charge the walls and use ladders to scale them, or try to beat down the gates with axes. This was prohibitively costly when a city was alertly defended, but it might happen. Stone was kept busy repairing the surviving chariots, which would be used to sally in force to drive the attackers from the walls.
Honey could have lost herself in the confusion of the torchlight preparations, but she remained close to Stone. “Go to the wagon and sleep,” he told her gruffly. “This is not woman’s work.”
“Someone might take me from there,” she countered.
He could not argue with that. It seemed she still was not going to try to escape. That was probably a good decision. At least with him she had a protector of sorts.
But by morning it was apparent that the Egyptians, too, had had enough. They were not going to try to storm the city. Indeed, it seemed that their losses were so heavy that they lacked the power to take the city, defended as it was.
So it was that the Egyptians withdrew. Kadesh remained part of the Hittite Empire, making this technically a victory. Of course the Egyptians would claim otherwise. The Hittites had outmaneuvered the Egyptians, but then had lost their discipline just as the luck had turned against them. Thus their victory had become a draw. At least it had not become the disaster that had threatened for awhile.
/> There was one other thing. The officer did not return. They learned that he had been killed in the final action, perhaps by the Canaanites. “Did I send him to his death?” Honey asked, bemused.
“Perhaps. So you have had your vengeance. Now you belong to me, and I will set you free.”
“Don’t do that!” she protested, alarmed.
“Don’t you want to return to your father?”
She glanced at him with an inscrutable expression. “Yes. But I may not. If some other soldier does not make me captive the moment you free me, I still may not rejoin my village.”
“Why not? There will be no Hittites here, after we withdraw to the north.”
“Because they will believe me to have been despoiled, and will not accept me. They will kill me for having collaborated with the enemy.”
“But you have not done that!” he protested. “You had no choice but to obey your captor.”
“They will not believe that.”
He saw her point. It was believed that all female captives were raped, unless they submitted voluntarily. It was considered to be the woman’s fault, regardless. Only the chance of the officer’s delay and death had saved her. Honey had been exiled from her village the moment she was taken captive.
“I could take you to my city,” he said. “But I don’t know what you would do there.”
She faced him. “Could I not remain your slave? I would serve you loyally, for you have been kind to me.”
“I never intended to—”
“Or you could take me as a concubine. Perhaps I could give you children to augment your family.”
“I never—”
“Whatever you wish,” she said. “Only please don’t throw me to the wolves.”
Stone was stumped for an appropriate response. “Maybe there will be something,” he said awkwardly. “I will ask my wife.”
She smiled, reminding him how very pretty she was. “Thank you, Stone.”
As it turned out, he could not have returned her anyway. Muwatallis, irritated by the sight of Amorite standards among his enemies, decided to teach the Amorites a lesson on the return trip. He destroyed a number of settlements and enslaved their populations. One of them was Honey’s home village. She had nowhere to go. If he freed her, she would probably be captured by another, probably cruder master. That was clear to both of them.
It was a relief to be released from service, with his stipend and the added favor of the king. Stone brought his smith wagon north through the great Hittite Empire, dropping off soldiers and servitors as they passed their villages. This was mutual convenience: Stone had transportation and food, while the riding soldiers provided protection from any possible brigands along the route, and lent their muscle to shove the wagon out when it got mired in a mudhole. Honey had no privileged position; she had to fix the meals for them all. But she was herself protected, because she belonged to Stone, and it was his wagon. She rode near him and slept near him, and remained unmolested. Not, however, ignored; had Stone not been a firmly married man, he would have taken her up on her offer to be his concubine. Even as it was, he was fighting back temptation. Only the constant thought of his lovely, loving, loyal wife sustained him.
Stone lived in the former capital of the empire, Hattusa, beautiful in its mountainous setting. It was magnificently defensible, which was fortunate, because the Kaska warriors close to the north had never been properly pacified. Only truly strong ramparts sufficed, and the city had them. There was a formidable gorge on the east and a deep valley on the west, so that attackers would have to try to charge up steep slopes before even encountering the wall. The wall itself was twice the height of a man, and four times as thick, fashioned of massive stone blocks intricately fitted together. Stone worked in metal, but could appreciate the quality of the stonesmiths, his namesake; they had done a phenomenal job.
The site was excellent in other respects: it was close to the seven springs that never ran dry, so that the city never went thirsty. The nearby forests were excellent for both construction timbers and fuel for hearth fires.
“Oh, it sounds so wonderful!” Honey said enthusiastically. “I have never seen anything like that!” He suspected that her brightness was artificial, but her evident interest in his description was nevertheless flattering. She did not want to be dumped alone and defenseless in a strange city, and he understood that; otherwise her attitude might have been different. Still . . .
They rode the wagon up into the mountains, slowly ascending through the forests to the south until they reached the open region that surrounded the city. This was no accident; it would have been folly to allow potential enemies the close cover of trees. Now, above the stone glacis, they saw the outer wall, and close inside it the far larger inner wall with its parapets and crenellations. A ramp and two sets of steps led up to the great gate with its carved stone sphinxes.
Usually Stone didn’t bother with either of those. He simply used the postern: an open tunnel which slanted through the ground under the walls, giving easy access to the city. In time of war, these tunnels allowed Hittite soldiers to charge out to attack a besieging enemy. There was no need to conceal these posterns or their purpose, because any enemy troops who tried to enter them would be at the mercy of the defenders.
He yielded to a sudden impulse. “Take the wagon through the gate,” he told one of his riders. “I’m going to show Honey the postern.”
Without a word the man moved forward to take the reins. Probably he figured that Stone wanted to get Honey out of sight of others for awhile so that he could enjoy her body before returning to humdrum homelife. Why not? She belonged to him.
They jumped off the wagon, and he showed the way to the stone-rimmed hole in the sloping ground. “Our special passage,” he explained, guiding her in.
She was duly impressed. “What a long tunnel! The light is so far away!”
“It passes right under the walls,” he agreed. “Don’t worry; it will not collapse. See, the stones are carefully arched.”
“Yes, I see,” she agreed, impressed again. But she hesitated, not far into the passage.
“But if it frightens you, there is no need to go through it,” he said. “I thought you would like it.”
“Oh, I’m not frightened,” she said. “Not when I’m with you.” Yet still she hesitated.
“Then what is the problem? Here, I’ll lead the way.”
“I just thought, perhaps—” She shrugged.
“Thought what? I don’t understand. Do you prefer not to enter the city?”
“It’s not that.” She evidently came to a decision. “I had thought you might want to do this.” She put her arms around him and drew him in for a kiss.
Startled, Stone found himself reacting. Then he drew away. “I never sought to force my attention on you. I said I would ask my wife.”
“Yes, of course,” she agreed. Perhaps she was blushing in the gloom.
They went on through the tunnel and emerged within the city. Soon the wagon made it through the gate and came along the road. They got back on. The soldiers remained silent, but there were knowing smiles.
The city lay spread before them, for they had entered at its highest part. Nearby was a walled enclosure within the larger walled city, made of stone and mud brick. “Those are the temples of our gods,” Stone explained as Honey looked. “They have the best place, of course.”
“Of course.”
They passed the large nice homes of the leading citizens, each on its own level terrace. Beyond these was a more impressive complex, walled off and almost projecting into the great east canyon. “The King’s Citadel,” Stone said. “This is no longer the capital city, but the king still resides there when he visits the city on his annual tour of the religious sites of the empire.”
“It is amazing.”
Farther downhill, where the ground leveled somewhat, flat-roofed houses were crowded together near one of the most impressive structures. “We live near the Great Temple of th
e Storm God, our city’s patron,” Stone explained.
“I must worship there,” Honey said. “If they allow slave women?”
“They allow women. You will surely be free.”
There was a fair amount of traffic in this vicinity. Men in simple tunics were carrying large earthen jugs, while women carried baskets. “Slaves bringing water from the springs,” Stone explained. “Women going shopping.”
They parked the wagon at Stone’s metalsmith shop, where workers hurried out to unload it and take care of the horses. Stone took Honey along a narrow alley toward his home. Water coursed from waste holes in the walls of the houses and flowed on down the street, requiring them to step carefully. There was the smell of hot olive oil. “We will be eating soon,” Stone said, reminded of his stomach.
“But first I must meet your wife,” Honey said nervously.
Stone’s indecision remained as they came to his home. Honey had proved to be increasingly convenient to have near, and he liked her very well. But what would Seed think? He was tempted once more to take Honey at her word, and make her his concubine, but the thought of his wife still prevented him. Yet would Seed believe him, or Honey’s assurance? He did not want to do anything to upset his wife, and he feared that this would, no matter what.
Meanwhile it was good to see the tunics and pointed shoes of Hatti again, and to be free of the onus of military duty. He would have been completely happy, if only it were not for the problem of Honey.
Seed met him at the door. She was beautiful in a brightly layered day-robe, and her hair was exquisitely coifed. A jade-green comb set off her lovely green eyes. Obviously she had prepared for his return. He had hoped somehow to be able to broach the matter to her alone, but there had been nowhere to park Honey. He had to do it in the baldest way. “Seed, this is Honey, my Amorite slave by right of plunder. I give her to you, to decide whether she should remain in our household, and how she might serve there.”
Seed pursed her lips. “A concubine?” she asked in Amorite. “
j__”
Seed turned to Honey. “This is by your choice?”
Isle of Woman (Geodyssey) Page 30