“I was born a barbarian, Lani. The ways of the village are not always my ways. Besides, he saved my life, more than once. Do you think I could repay him for that by making him a slave again?” He pushed his wine cup toward her, and she took a small sip before handing it back.
“And now you rule the greatest village in the land, so you’re not a barbarian any more, else the villagers would not follow you.”
Eskkar smiled at that. “They’re still having trouble accepting me as their ruler. And I do not rule alone, Lani.”
“It seems even stranger that the nobles of Akkad would accept a woman to rule over them.”
So Lani had heard about Trella’s true role in Akkad. Well, that made things easier. “She was a slave herself, given to me to help manage my household.” He smiled at the thought. “Trella is what my people call a
‘gifted one.’ She sees much, knows the mysteries of farm and village, and understands the ways of men. Without her, I might not even be alive, let alone ruler of Akkad.”
“I heard that she is young, only fifteen seasons. She must be gifted indeed. You must care for her a great deal.”
Eskkar nodded. “More than you can know, Lani. She’s very special to me.
And she carries our child now, the child that will rule in Akkad after us.”
“Then I bless her name. And I will not allow myself to be jealous of your love for her.”
“Don’t be, Lani. It’s because of her that I am here, and that you’re under Akkad’s protection.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “And yet you are much like her, I think. Your wits are quick, and you understand the ways of men. How old are you, Lani?”
“In the spring, I will have twenty-four seasons, lord. But much of what I have learned is what I would soonest forget.”
Ninazu’s cries of agony rang throughout the square. They’d managed to ignore the noise outside for a few moments. Suddenly the screams ended, cut short, replaced by a loud groan of disappointment and disapproval from the crowd.
“Ninazu must be unconscious, or dead,” Eskkar said. “I’ll go see.”
He went to the doorway, and called to one of the soldiers. In a few moments Eskkar returned to the table and sat down again. “Ninazu is dead, Lani. The torturers were too careless. The villagers think he scarcely suffered.”
Lani bowed her head. “I’m glad he’s dead. My husband’s life has been avenged. Now I can bury him, at least in my thoughts.”
Everyone had to deal with grief and loss in their own way, and Eskkar had already done all he could to help her. “You will not be needed for the rest of the day, Lani. Stay inside, until everything is finished.” He turned away, and went back out into the square.
The crowd regained its voice. With Ninazu dead, the villagers started arguing again. Many wanted all prisoners to be tortured and killed, and Eskkar watched as Sisuthros pounded his sword hilt on the table to shut them up. Before Sisuthros finished reckoning with the rest of Ninazu’s men, the sun passed midday.
The Akkadians had captured thirty-one men, and each one needed to be dealt with individually. Eskkar knew those who had committed the worst misdeeds would make poor slaves. Too ignorant or intractable, they would have to be watched and guarded for the rest of their days, always seeking to escape and more trouble than they were worth. The villagers denounced nine of these, and the council sentenced them to death. Four had committed particularly atrocious acts, and were put to the torture, giving each of them added pain before they died. A quick sword thrust to the heart took care of the others.
Sisuthros condemned those remaining, the ones docile enough to accept their punishment, to slavery, to be branded with the mark of Akkad and to labor for the rest of their lives. He ordered fifteen to be sent to Akkad as soon as possible. Akkad needed laborers more urgently than Bisitun, to work on the expansion of the walls. Corio and his builders would put the extra workers to good use.
Despite Akkad’s need, Eskkar shook his head at the thought of sending the slaves there. Some of his precious soldiers would be needed to guard and transport them, more food would have to be found and sent with them, along with horses, ropes, and everything else needed for at least a week’s march back to Akkad.
Sisuthros spent the remaining daylight dividing up the goods and animals recovered from Ninazu. Despite recovering much of what Ninazu’s men had taken, many valuables couldn’t be located. Of course several villagers claimed the same items, causing arguments to erupt. Even with fair dispositions, the rightful owners argued about the part taken by Akkad.
Everyone claimed that two-tenths for Akkad was far too great a portion, until Sisuthros threatened to take everything from the next man who protested. He reminded them that they would have nothing if the Akkadians had not rescued both them and their goods, and that Akkadian soldiers had died freeing them.
The gold and silver coins taken from Ninazu provided another source of contention, the difficulty being to establish how much had been taken from any one person. Acting together, the council made those decisions, often after appealing to the villagers, who made dispositions based on what they thought a man might have possessed.
At last the sun began to sink below the western horizon, and Sisuthros announced the end of the day’s proceedings. Another assembly would convene the next day, starting at midmorning. The council of elders would meet earlier, an hour after sunup, to go over what would be the next order of business-restoring the productivity of the farms, the shopkeepers, and the merchant traders.
The crowd began to disburse, heading to their homes for supper. Even after most departed, guards were posted at Eskkar’s door to keep a few overeager supplicants away from the leaders of Akkad.
“Marduk take all of them,” Sisuthros said, his voice hoarse. He lifted his feet onto the table as he leaned back against the wall. “Another day like today, and I’ll run off and become a bandit myself.”
Eskkar felt every bit as tired. The constant arguing grated on his nerves, wearing him down. Yet he had to remain alert, to study those as they spoke, in order to determine who might be lying from those who had little skills with speech. He’d stayed out of it as much as possible, but he had intervened twice when Sisuthros looked toward him for help. Eskkar attempted to follow Trella’s advice. “Be aloof. Do not deal in common matters. Leave those to your commanders. That way the people will know you concern yourself with far more important things than some farmer’s cow or the innkeeper’s bill.”
“Tomorrow will be easier, Sisuthros. At least you’ve got the gold out of the way. They’ll quiet down as soon as they get back to work. You’ll be besieged with requests for men, to help rebuild the farms, the ditches, the shops, the boats, everything damaged or destroyed by Ninazu.”
“Captain, I don’t know how you and Trella stand it. Better a hard fight against the barbarians any day.” He shook his head. “I don’t think we have enough scribes and traders, let alone soldiers.”
Lani approached the table, carrying a tray of wine, cheese, and bread, the first part of the evening meal. Eskkar mixed himself a cup of watered wine. Sisuthros was right. They would need more help, and they wouldn’t be able to trust anyone from Bisitun for months.
“I’ll send word back to Akkad, Sisuthros. Maybe Nicar or Corio has someone else they can spare to help you. Perhaps Trella knows of someone.”
He didn’t mention Sisuthros’s wife. Far too shy and retiring, she wouldn’t be able to deal forcefully with determined villagers.
Eskkar watched Lani as she moved gracefully about the cooking area, giving directions to the two women preparing the food. He knew she could be of use to Sisuthros, but the people of Bisitun would never accept her in that role. To them, no matter what Eskkar had said today, she would always be Ninazu’s woman. Besides, he had promised her protection in Akkad.
Hamati, Drakis, the scribes, and a few of the other senior men sat down at the table, everyone hungry for their dinner. Lani and Tippu returned, carrying more trays laden with food, helped by the other women, who had done a good part of the cooking in their own homes.
No fancy fare yet. Food would remain in short supply in Bisitun until the market reestablished itself. Nevertheless, in the next few days farmers would be bringing in whatever they could spare, to sell to the soldiers and villagers. So for tonight’s dinner, the men ate a stew made from two chickens, chopped into tiny chunks, and mixed with fresh vegetables. Four loaves of bread fresh from the ovens helped soak up the stew, and watered wine completed the meal. Not much food for fighting men, but most of Bisitun would not eat as well tonight. At least no
