“To help you, to help Lady Trella… this is nothing, master. I worked from dawn to dusk with my old master, tanning hides. Look at my arms.”
She lifted her hands up.
Her arms looked as strong as any farm woman’s who labored all day in the fi elds. But his eyes noted her arms for only a moment, before being drawn to her breasts. He looked away when she dropped her arms.
“Master, you need not look away. You may take me whenever you wish. I’ve been taken many times.”
Tammuz ground his teeth at the thought of her former master. “En-hedu, I’ve never been with a woman. When I do lie with one, I want her to be willing… to want me.” The words had come out without thinking, but what surprised him more was that he remembered where he’d heard such words before: at the campfire a few days before Eskkar’s return to Akkad.
Someone had asked the captain of the guard about his slave, Trella. And Eskkar had answered that he no longer wanted to take women against their will, that he found it more satisfying to take his pleasure with someone who wanted him.
“Tammuz, I’m not sure I will ever want to be with a man. All I have is the memory of pain. Pain and humiliation.”
Her former master again. The man should die. And why not? “En-hedu, Lady Trella gave you to me so that you could help me.” He stood and extended his hand. “Perhaps we can help each other. But for now, let’s make our plans for this Korthac, before we have to get back. Otherwise Kuri will drink all the fresh ale.”
She clasped his hand, and he felt the pleasure of her touch flow through him. Be patient, he thought. Then he thought about her former master. I’ll be patient with him, too, he decided, patient until I put my knife between his ribs.
8
The noonday sun shone straight down on Bisitun before Eskkar sat down for the first time. He stretched weary legs straight out and let himself relax for a moment. Since the sunrise capture of Ninazu, Eskkar and his men had rushed about the village, scarcely pausing to scoop a cup of water or a fistful of bread. Chaos ruled all morning, with a hundred tasks demanding his attention.
While Sisuthros worked on securing the village, Eskkar rounded up every horse he could find and put them under guard. Mounted Akkadians already ringed the palisade to make sure no bandits escaped. Sentries stood watch at the two gates as well, while the rest of Eskkar’s men guarded prisoners.
Eskkar had escorted Ninazu, his arms bound tightly to his sides, back to his own house. The sight of the bandit leader being led through the lanes helped restore order to the village. Once there, Eskkar ordered one of Ninazu’s legs broken, to make sure he didn’t attempt to escape.
Meanwhile Hamati took a squad of men and searched every house and hut, looking for bandits trying to hide within the dwellings or on rooftops.
That took most of the morning. When they finished, they’d discovered and captured nearly a dozen more of Ninazu’s men scattered through Bisitun, cowering in corners or huddled under blankets. One bandit attempted to fi ght his way out, killing an innocent villager in the process. Mitrac killed the bandit with an arrow when he refused to surrender.
By midmorning Eskkar felt satisfied his men had captured or killed all of Ninazu’s men. Gradually a sense of relief settled over the village.
The women stopped their screaming, the men their cursing. Still, most of Bisitun’s frightened inhabitants stayed in their huts, wondering what new woes these Akkadians from the south would bring to them.
Eskkar dispatched men to locate and gather the village elders and leading merchants, though few enough of them remained. At the same time, three messengers on captured horses rode out into the countryside, to spread the word of Ninazu’s overthrow and bring in the more substan-tial farmers, so that everyone could see what Bisitun’s new leaders had accomplished.
As the populace realized they would not be pillaged and raped, they gathered their courage and headed for the market area, empty except for Eskkar’s men and a few horses. In prosperous times, it would be filled with carts selling all manner of crops, animals, and goods, but for most of the morning, not a cart, vendor, not even a beggar, could be seen.
The marketplace, an irregular rectangle formed by dwellings of every shape and height, was accessed by half a dozen crooked lanes. That left plenty of room for the inhabitants, and soon more than a hundred people filled the square. To Eskkar’s eyes, they looked little better than the inhabitants of Dilgarth. Though surrounded by fruitful farmlands, food remained scarce in Bisitun, with Ninazu’s men taking most of what the local farmers delivered. Many villagers showed bruises on their thin bodies, marks from the bandit’s brutal treatment. Most wore simple tunics that needed washing. Only a few possessed sandals, though Eskkar recalled that almost all of Ninazu’s men had worn them.
The demands for vengeance against Ninazu and his followers mounted, with the village’s women shouting the loudest. Dozens, raped by the bandits, their husbands murdered, or both, cried out for Ninazu’s blood. Those outcries only stopped when Eskkar assured everyone that punishment would be meted out soon. Then the villagers pleaded for food. Ninazu hadn’t bothered to secure enough provisions for the siege, and most of what he had stored went to his men, with little left over for Bisitun. Fortunately, the handful of dead horses would provide a decent meal to most. Eskkar dispatched more riders to the countryside, to let the farmers know they could once again bring in their crops with safety, while receiving a fair price.
By noon Eskkar’s men patrolled the streets and lanes, the gates stood closed and guarded, and villagers labored to repair the burned-out section of the palisade. Fifty-seven of Ninazu’s followers had died, and forty-one taken prisoner. Some of these, the least violent and most tractable, would become slaves. With the mark of Akkad branded on their foreheads, they would live out the rest of their lives working in the fi elds and canals. The rest would be killed.
No one, including Eskkar, felt the slightest sympathy for any of them.
They’d chosen to live by the sword at the expense of their neighbors. The captured bandits deserved a sentence of slavery, if for nothing else than to make amends for their crimes.
Another thirty or more bandits had slipped away in the confusion.
Eskkar’s men had reported hearing splashes in the river, so no doubt many had risked their hand at swimming. Those that made it across the river would offer no threat to Bisitun for quite some time. One or two might still be hiding within the village, but Eskkar’s men would soon discover any that remained.
Surprisingly, Eskkar had lost only six men in the fighting. Two of those had climbed the palisade with Eskkar. Sisuthros had lost the others repulsing Ninazu’s sortie or storming the gate. Eight more had taken wounds, but with luck would survive. To the soldiers of Akkad, it seemed an incredible accomplishment. Outnumbered, and with minimal losses, they had defeated an entrenched and determined enemy in the space of a few hours. Eskkar’s reputation among the soldiers as a canny leader who cared about his men grew even greater.
The inhabitants of Bisitun appeared as impressed. Ninazu had lied to them, told them that the Akkadians would kill everyone in the village, just as he’d told them that the village couldn’t be taken.
Eskkar and Sisuthros had plenty of work to do. The scribes arrived from the encampment, and set about making lists of those villagers killed or robbed by Ninazu and his men. Eskkar sent a rider to Akkad to inform Trella and Gatus that Bisitun had been freed. He spoke with more than a dozen men imprisoned by Ninazu, and released all of them. Using one of the scribes, Eskkar made an account of the loot found at Ninazu’s house.
The bandit leader had taken over the largest structure in Bisitun for his residence, and Eskkar saw no reason to let it go to waste, claiming it as his headquarters.
The villagers, organized in small parties, began to bury the dead and repair the damage caused by the fighting. Nevertheless, it wasn’t until midday that Eskkar felt confident enough to order everyone to the market square to hear his words. If so many villagers hadn’t been killed or driven out, the square could never have accommodated them. Even then, the rooftops seemed as crowded as the streets.
Eskkar hated giving speeches, but the people of Bisitun needed to hear and see him. But they, like the villagers in Dilgarth, needed to know who he was, why he’d come, and what their role would be in the future.
