the house a few days before he’d left for Bisitun.
Trella sat up in the bed, the baby asleep beside her. “Eskkar, we have a favor to ask of you, a very great favor.” She kept her voice soft, so as not to waken the child.
Trella’s use of “we” warned him something unusual was coming. He looked closer at the girl, struggling to remember her name.
“This is En-hedu,” Trella went on, “soon to be wife to Tammuz. At least, as soon as we set her free from her servitude.”
En-hedu bowed deeply to him, but said nothing. When she lifted her head, he saw the worry in her face.
“Tammuz… Gatus told me he’d taken a woman.”
“I gave En-hedu to Tammuz more than a month ago. She’s been helping him all that time. They both risked their lives, trying to learn more about Korthac. They helped hide Gatus, and she and Tammuz both fought in the battle against Korthac.”
“Then you have my thanks, En-hedu,” Eskkar said, bowing his head to her.
“I will tell you all about it later, husband,” Trella said, “but for now, En-hedu wishes to ask a favor.”
En-hedu bowed again, her hands clenched together nervously. “Lord, please, can you spare the life of the Egyptian Hathor? He saved my life and the life of Tammuz as well. We would both be dead if he hadn’t spared us.”
“Hathor is to die with Korthac,” Eskkar said, shock and surprise in his voice. “He was one of Korthac’s subcommanders… he escaped with Ariamus.”
“Hathor came from the desert with Korthac, it’s true,” Annok-sur said.
“But I didn’t see him kill or do injury to anyone here in Akkad.”
“Please, lord,” En-hedu rushed the words, “his men would have killed Tammuz and myself. Hathor stayed his hand against us. Can you not spare his life for that?”
“What does Tammuz say?” Eskkar asked. “Does he want this man to live?”
“Yes, Lord Eskkar,” En-hedu said, “but he will not ask for Hathor’s life.
He is too loyal to you and Lady Trella.”
“In serving Korthac, who knows how many evil deeds Hathor may have accomplished in the past. He may have…”
Trella dropped her eyes, and Eskkar’s voice trailed off. Without saying anything, she reminded him of another who had done things in the past, things better forgotten.
“No one has accused Hathor of evil deeds,” Annok-sur said, filling in the silence.
“Not yet,” Eskkar countered. “Today, in the marketplace, I’m sure many will come forth to confront him.” He shook his head. “Still, I have no quarrel with him. He can spend the rest of his days as a slave, working on the wall.”
“When Korthac amused himself at my expense,” Trella said, “Hathor was the only one who looked away. He did not take pleasure in my suffering.”
Her words told him she wanted Hathor to live, and not as a slave.
“Perhaps there is another way,” Trella continued. “Perhaps you can make use of him.”
“Use him?”
“You always say how you look for men who can command. Hathor is one such. Even Korthac thought so. With Korthac gone and the rest of the Egyptians dead, Hathor has no one else to turn to. In Akkad, every man’s hand will be against him. Such a man might prove useful to you, Eskkar, if you held his loyalty.”
Eskkar looked from one woman to the other. Annok-sur nodded slightly, to show her approval; En-hedu’s lip trembled as she watched him, as if fearful of an outburst of anger.
Trella stroked little Sargon, tracing his cheek with her finger for a moment, then lifting her eyes to Eskkar’s. “It is something to think about, husband. There is no rush to put him to death.”
As always, she gave him time to make up his mind, to think things through in his own way.
“I’ll consider it,” he answered. “Is there anything else?”
“No, nothing. You’ll do what’s best.”
The words sounded humble, but he caught the gleam in her eye.
“But perhaps it would be good to speak to him yourself,” Trella added.
“Can you have him brought here?”
“Up here? Now?” He regretted the words the moment he uttered them. He knew Trella too well. Once she made up her mind, she always acted quickly.
“I can have him brought up, Lord Eskkar,” Annok-sur offered.
Now Bantor’s wife was calling him “lord.”
“No, I’ll bring him.” Eskkar needed the time to think, and he certainly wasn’t going to win any arguments here, not with the three of them united against him. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, wondering what they would say with him gone.
In the courtyard, the command table stood empty. He knew Gatus had gone with the council members to gather up the traitors.
Eskkar walked over to the guards. He nodded to the one watching Hathor, and ducked his head as he entered inside.
Hathor looked up when he entered, but said nothing.
“Do you know who I am?”
“You are Lord Eskkar. I saw you yesterday when I was brought here.”
The man spoke with a strong accent, but Eskkar had no difficulty understanding his words.
“Are you ready to die, Hathor?”
“As ready as any man, lord.” He pushed himself up a little straighter against the wall. “I would have killed myself rather than been captured, but your men took me before I could fall on my sword.”
Eskkar grunted at that news. So this all could have been avoided if Bantor’s men hadn’t been so efficient. He stared at Hathor. Despite the Egyptian’s strong words, Eskkar saw the trembling in his hands that betrayed his fear. No man wants to die alone, surrounded by enemies and strangers. A warrior expected to die in battle, often looked forward to it; better to end that way than a lingering death from illness or old age, alone, perhaps begging in the streets.
Another long-forgotten memory returned, of a time many years ago when Eskkar had sat bound and bloody against a cave wall, death pricking the skin at his throat, afraid, yet too proud to beg for his life, while a group of women decided his fate. Women had spared him then, and now women wanted him to spare this man. Perhaps Eskkar owed the gods a debt, one that must be repaid. Ishtar, the earth goddess, was a woman, after all.
“Guard, get some water for the prisoner.” Eskkar used the time to think.
The guard returned with a skin filled with water. Eskkar took it from his hands, cursing at the old memories; he should feel hate for the Egyptian, not pity. He handed the skin to the surprised Hathor and let him drink his fill, much of the water dribbling down his chest as the man held the skin clumsily with his bound hands.
Eskkar turned to the guard, still standing in the doorway. “Bring him to the workroom. And wash the blood from his hands and face first.”
Ignoring the soldier’s surprised look, Eskkar returned to the upper rooms. He sat down at the big table and waited. Annok-sur summoned Drusala to watch the baby; the midwife closed the door to the inner room after Trella and En-hedu joined Eskkar in the workroom. The two women guided Trella to the seat beside her husband, then stood behind her.
It took two men to bring Hathor up the stairs, and by the time he stood in front of Eskkar, a sheen of perspiration covered his face. At least they’d cleaned most of the blood off.
“Put him on the stool,” Eskkar ordered, “then leave us.”
“Lord, one of us should stay, in case…”
“I’ll watch him myself,” Eskkar cut the man off. He stood up and moved to the other side of the table, then sat on the corner, between Hathor and the women, fingering the knife on his belt.
Trella waited until the guards had left, closing the door behind them.
“Do you remember me?” Her voice once again held the power of command, no matter how weak she might feel.
Hathor nodded, his eyes darting from husband to wife.
