Hundreds of angry Akkadians seeking revenge had joined in the search for the remnants of Korthac’s men. The Egyptians, recognizable by their darker skin color, proved easy to find. Some of the men who Ariamus had brought into the city still had to be unearthed. Together, soldiers and citizens searched house by house, and one by one, were rounding up the bandits who had terrorized Akkad.
“Good. When Bantor returns, we can start patrolling the countryside.”
“The soldiers searched Akkad for Ariamus, but no one saw the traitor-ous filth. His body wasn’t among the dead. Finally a boy came forward and said that he saw Ariamus and some Egyptians go over the south wall.”
Eskkar yawned. “The battle rage is still on Bantor. He won’t be back until he finds Ariamus. I told him to bring him back alive if he could.”
Gatus finished his wine and ripped a handful of bread from the loaf.
“Bantor fought well. Do you think he’ll catch Ariamus? The man’s like a snake in a swamp for hiding.”
“You wouldn’t ask that if you’d seen Bantor.”
“I’ll be just as happy to piss on his body,” Gatus said. “Ariamus strutted around Akkad, looking pleased as any rich merchant with three fat wives.”
Gatus leaned across the table. “Your eyes are closing. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll relieve Alexar and keep watch downstairs.”
Before Eskkar could argue, Gatus was on his way, closing the door to the upper chamber behind him. Eskkar tried to finish his bread, but he had no appetite. His thoughts wandered, so he lowered his head on his arms and closed his eyes, to rest for a few moments.
He fell into a deep sleep within a dozen heartbeats. So deep that he didn’t hear the servants passing to and from the inner room, nor his son waking and crying to be fed.
When he awoke, his neck and arms felt stiff, and his back complained when he straightened up. His throat felt parched, and he drained his water cup, then stretched his arms until the stiffness went away. Rested now, a glance at the window told him he’d slept for more than an hour. The door to the bedroom stood open, and he heard Trella’s voice. The chair scraped loudly when he arose, and in a moment Drusala appeared.
“Lady Trella is asking for you, Lord Eskkar. Can you come to her?”
Trella, her head propped up by a cushion, smiled at him when he approached. Annok-sur had gone. Sargon nestled in Trella’s arm, nursing, and a bandage covered her side. Drusala slipped out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
“Have you seen your son, Eskkar?” Her voice sounded stronger, and she reached out toward him with her hand.
He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb the child.
“Yes. The midwife told me of his delivery, and what you suffered. Are you in pain?” He took her hand in his.
“Ventor and Drusala say I will recover. The pain is passing now that you and Sargon are both here.”
“Trella, I’m sorry. I should have come sooner.” The words came out in a rush.
“We’ll speak of it later, husband. All that matters is that you returned to save Akkad.”
“I didn’t come back for Akkad. I came for you. The moment I heard … I came as fast as I could.”
She squeezed his hand, and tears formed in her eyes. “You saved our son’s life. That’s all that matters. Korthac would have killed us both soon enough, after he’d taken his pleasures.”
The thought of the humiliation she’d endured wrenched at him, and he held her hand tighter. “As Korthac reminded me, you saved my life last night. Without your little knife thrust… Where did you get such a thing?”
“The birthing knife. A gift from Drusala. We’ll have to repay that debt.”
The baby squirmed at her breast for a moment before settling down again, and she stroked his head. “We knew Korthac was concealing something, but I never thought… none of us suspected anything like this.” She shook her head at her failure. “He laughed at me, said I was just an ignorant girl trying to play at ruling men. He made me.. I had to…”
Eskkar reached out to touch her lips with his finger, stopping the flow of words. “I’ve fought many men, Trella, but no one with Korthac’s skills.
Never. But for the luck of the gods, and your help, he might have won. It’s no disgrace to battle a worthy opponent.”
She blinked back the tears. “Your luck still runs true, then. The gods continue to favor you.”
“The gods favor me because of you.” He gazed down at the child in wonder, and his voice softened. “Now they’ll have to watch over Sargon as well. He seems… so small and helpless.” Eskkar touched the child’s cheek with his finger, fascinated by the boy’s soft skin.
“Sargon will need your protection and strength for many years, husband. He will rule over our city someday. Who knows what he will accomplish?”
“He and Akkad will need your wisdom. Just as it needs Corio’s new walls to defend it.”
“Long after we are gone, our voices will linger in these walls, for as long as this place remains. Let us hope our son honors us both.”
The child had stopped nursing and fallen asleep. Eskkar stroked its fi ne black hair, feeling a pride grow inside him that he’d never known before. His son. The son who would carry on his line, who would make Eskkar live on through the ages to come, lay before him, nestled safely in his mother’s arms.
“You seem pleased with our son. I hope you will teach him many things. How to rule, how to fight, how to lead.”
“He will learn more from you than I can ever teach him. You speak of fighting, but fighting a war is easy. Destroying is easy. Building a new way of life out of what is left is hard. That’s what he will learn from his mother.”
“Then we will teach him together, husband.”
“Yes, together.” He leaned down and kissed her, taking care not to awaken the child. But her lips were warm, and still held the promise he’d always found there, the gift of love and tenderness that had won him over months ago. Eskkar put his arms around both of them, holding them close.
Trella had more tears on her face, but this time he knew they were tears of happiness, and he kissed them away.
31
Hathor woke to pain, pain that possessed every part of his body. It had started yesterday with the arrow in his leg, the heavy shaft tearing into hard muscle above the knee before lodging in bone, but thankfully missing the big blood carrier. He’d fainted for a few moments when they held him down and tore the shaft from his body. When Hathor regained consciousness, he found his wound bound with a piece of tunic taken from one of the dead. Rough hands lifted him onto a horse.
Dazed from the wound, he clutched at the horse’s mane with both hands, struggling to stay on. If they thought he couldn’t ride, they’d tie him across the animal’s back, and the pain would be even worse.
One man held the halter while another rode alongside, in case Hathor started to fall off. They rode at an easy pace, laughing and talking among themselves, all except for their leader, named Bantor, who rode at their head in silence. Another horse carried the corpse of Ariamus, the only body the Akkadians bothered to bring back with them.
This Bantor apparently had some personal grudge against the traitor Ariamus. No doubt Ariamus’s body would be displayed next to that of Korthac. The bodies of Hathor’s men remained where they had fallen, left to animals and carrion eaters.
Thinking of Korthac made the anger bubble up inside Hathor. He’d seen the wave of Akkadian soldiers jogging down the lane to attack the main gate, followed by hundreds of the city’s inhabitants. One look at their sheer number had stopped him in his tracks. Hathor had nearly recaptured the gate, but the sight of hundreds of angry citizens carrying makeshift weapons and rushing to support their liberators told him the effort had failed. Sounds of battle from the other tower made Hathor look up, and he saw that more Akkadians had captured that one as well.
