“Tell me of Korthac,” Trella said. “Tell me what he did in Egypt.”
The question caught Hathor by surprise. “Why do you wish… to know about Korthac?”
“It cannot matter now to answer my questions.” Trella kept her voice even, a polite request to a guest.
Eskkar said nothing, just stared at the man. If Hathor refused to speak, he would go to the marketplace and suffer with his leader.
Hathor dropped his eyes. “It matters not, I suppose… Lady Trella.”
So the Egyptian wasn’t a complete fool, Eskkar thought.
Hathor’s story came out haltingly. The years spent pillaging the land, gathering forces, two mighty armies battling to control the land of Egypt.
The conquests, the battles, the villages taken and burned, the lands devastated, the final conflict that saw Korthac defeated and driven into the desert with the last of his men, all of them lucky to escape with their lives.
To his surprise, Eskkar found himself listening with interest. When the man ended his tale, Eskkar had a question of his own. “Tell me about the battle here in Akkad.”
Hathor made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You were too clever for Korthac. He knew you didn’t have enough men. He never thought you would divide what little you had to slip inside and raise the city. Or that Akkad would rise up, even for you.”
“My men didn’t think much of the idea at the time,” Eskkar said, remembering the arguments at Rebba’s farmhouse.
“Your men follow where you lead, Lord Eskkar. I see that they don’t fear you, the way we all feared Korthac. You speak to them as an equal. You must be a great warrior to hold so much loyalty.”
Eskkar stared at the man, not sure what to make of the words of praise. “Go on, Hathor. Tell me of the battle.”
The Egyptian began again, relating how they’d been surprised at the strike here at the house, how they hadn’t expected Eskkar to arrive so soon, and the confusion that broke out among them, even the hatred Takany felt for Ariamus. Hathor spoke for some time, but then his voice gave out. He tried to continue, but Eskkar held up his hand.
“Enough for now.” Then he leaned closer to the helpless man. “Would you like to live, Hathor?”
“As a slave? No, better to die and get it over with.”
“You might change your mind when the torture begins. But I meant something else. My wife has asked me to spare your life.”
A look of shock came over the Egyptian’s face.
“And this girl, En-hedu, pleaded with Trella. Do you know En-hedu?”
“Yes, I know her. The seller of trinkets outside Korthac’s house.” His eyes widened in comprehension. “Was she one of Trella’s… Lady Trella’s spies?”
“Why did you spare her life? And the boy’s?”
“She was ready to die to protect her man. I thought… She’d spoken kindly to me often enough.” He shrugged, lifting his bound hands. “I thought there’d been enough killing of women and helpless men. Whether we won or lost, their deaths wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Yes, there’s been enough of killing,” Eskkar agreed. “Now there must be a time of building. The land must be freed of bandits, and the people protected from the clans of the steppes people. I need men who can help me build, Hathor, as well as fight my enemies. Loyal men.”
Hathor stared not at Eskkar, but at En-hedu, unable to speak.
“Or, when you’ve recovered from your wound,” Trella said, “we can give you a horse and let you depart. You can even return to Egypt. The choice is yours.”
“You would give me my life?”
Eskkar nodded. “A life for a life. Yours for En-hedu and Tammuz’s.
You did no hurt to Trella, and no one has come forth to accuse you of murder or rape. If you had… it might be different.”
“I have nothing to return to in Egypt.” He lifted his eyes to Eskkar, then to Trella. “The vow I swore to Korthac ends with his death. If you will accept my oath, I will serve you faithfully, lord. I swear it.”
The Egyptian meant his words, Eskkar decided. He looked at Trella, who nodded. Taking his knife from his belt, Eskkar cut the knot from Hathor’s bonds.
“I’ll take him downstairs, Lord Eskkar,” Annok-sur said, putting her arm around his shoulders. “And summon the healer for his wounds.”
A knock on the door sounded, and Gatus pushed his way into the room. “I’ve got three of the men denounced by Corio,” Gatus said. “The others…” His eyes widened in surprise at the prisoner.
“Ah, Gatus, it’s good that you’ve returned,” Eskkar interrupted, enjoying the look of confusion on the old soldier’s face as he stared at Hathor, his hands untied, leaning on Annok-sur for support. “I’ve something to tell you.”
Epilogue
Nine days later, Yavtar once again guided his boat toward the dock at Akkad, though this time he arrived just after midday instead of the dead of night. He captained a different ship as well, a fine vessel newly purchased, and one of the largest that plied the river. It boasted a bright white sail twice as tall as a man, a long steering oar extending from the stern, and carried a crew of two men and a boy to work the ship. Today Yavtar’s cargo differed as well; instead of grim fighting men and their weapons, he carried passengers and trade goods.
Only a single berthing place stood empty at Akkad’s dock, and another boat, this one coming upriver, also wanted to land. Yavtar’s curses echoed across the rapidly diminishing gap between the two ships, as both captains sought to secure the berth. The two craft nearly collided before the other vessel’s captain yielded, as much to Yavtar’s bellowing as to the Hawk Clan banner flying from the masthead.
The wet oars flashed in the bubbling current as they caught the sunlight, struggling against the river’s force as the boat crept closer to the shore. With one last frantic pull of the oars, Yavtar’s boat slid into the berth, its journey ended.
Yavtar grunted in satisfaction when his new ship bumped against the jetty, safe at last from the river’s motion. One crewman leaped nimbly onto the wharf and fastened the holding ropes fore and aft to the well-worn stanchions. The other crewmen stowed the sail around the mast, clearing the way to unload passengers and cargo.
His latest voyage completed successfully, Yavtar intended to get decently drunk for a few days while he enjoyed the spoils of war. The great battle to liberate Akkad had proved lucrative to the old sailor. He alone of Eskkar’s force had entered Akkad with a well-filled sack of gold, payment received in advance for the use of his ships and for transporting the soldiers. The day after the battle, while most of the soldiers fi lled the alehouses and rejoiced at their victory, Yavtar had visited the countryside, and used his new riches to buy a good-sized farm a few miles outside the city. He then traded one of his two ships, plus a stash of gold and silver coins he’d managed to loot unnoticed from a dead Egyptian in the tower, for the proud craft he now commanded. If nothing else, this war had made Yavtar a wealthy man.
“Safe and sound, a smooth voyage just as I promised,” Yavtar said, his voice brimming with pride.
“So you did, master boatman,” Alexar agreed, standing in the prow of the craft and trying to stay out of the crew’s way. “But I’d rather travel by horseback any day, or even walk.”
“The more fool you, then,” Yavtar said, his smile softening his words.
“I’ll see you tonight at Zenobia’s. You can pay for the wine, too.” He leapt lightly to the dock, and searched for the dockmaster to declare his cargo and complete his business. The crowded dockside bustled with afternoon trading traffic, busier than usual since Korthac’s attempted coup. Yavtar had purchased two dozen sacks of grain while in Bisitun, and he expected to sell them for a good profit, an extra bonus to supplement the generous fee Lord Eskkar offered for the boat’s hire.
Alexar, shaking his head, watched Yavtar disappear into the throng of activity. For a moment he ignored the
