desert, and now wanted to take some leisure in this strange new city whose pleasures beckoned them. Fortunately the men respected Hathor, who urged them to control themselves a little longer. Korthac knew he needed to keep the men restrained.
With only a handful of men in Akkad, Korthac had too much to lose to take any chances with a drunken soldier getting into trouble. He’d ordered one whipped last week. Only yesterday Hathor had knocked another to the ground. Both Korthac and Hathor reminded their men again and again that, in a few weeks, they’d have plenty of gold and unlimited opportunities to enjoy the women of Akkad.
Korthac’s other two subcommanders, Takany and Nebibi, remained across the river with Ariamus, keeping a watchful eye on the man and helping raise and train the desperate men they recruited. Korthac felt certain he could rely on Ariamus, at least as long as the gold kept flowing.
More than six weeks had passed since Korthac arrived in Akkad, and he’d received a report each week about Ariamus’s progress.
Korthac’s business as a trader provided a legitimate reason to spend hours at the docks with a few of his men, meeting ships as they arrived, doing a little trading here and there.
Occasionally a boat carried one of Ariamus’s men, who would sit with the Egyptian and report. Korthac made sure the messenger got right back aboard a ship heading south. With Trella’s spies everywhere, there must be no boasting words or smug looks to give away his plan.
According to Hathor’s latest report, the former captain of the guard had already mustered over ninety men, almost all of them mounted, and most of them claiming to have fighting experience. Ariamus had dispensed plenty of Korthac’s gold and silver, along with promises of future loot to recruit these men. Korthac doubted they would come close to the quality of his Egyptians, but right now he needed bodies. With enough men who could at least swing a sword, Korthac would seize power in Akkad.
More than half the city’s soldiers were away, either with Eskkar or Bantor. That meant, on any given day, less than a hundred men maintained order, watched the walls, and manned the gates. Korthac had no doubt his seventy Egyptians could take the city from within, as long as they didn’t get involved in an archery battle. He’d watched the Akkadian soldiers practice, and seen what they could do with the bow. But in close-up fighting, his men would prevail. Holding Akkad would be another matter, and for that he needed Ariamus and his men, and, equally as important, their horses.
In a few more weeks, as the entire city knew, Bantor and his men would return from the south. Korthac wanted to act before their arrival. Eskkar, proving as unpredictable as everyone said, lingered in Bisitun. Nevertheless, the barbarian might return to Akkad at any time, probably bringing with him at least half his forces. If he stayed away a few more weeks, Korthac’s work would be much simpler. He’d been in Akkad long enough to understand local politics. The nobles who formed the ruling council were merely traders, men who dealt with buying and selling, not fighting, and all of them intimidated by Eskkar’s soldiers. Several chafed at Eskkar and Trella’s new restrictions on their authority. The people wouldn’t rally around any of them. A few public executions, followed by distribution of a few gold coins, would silence both traders and nobles, and bend them to his rule.
Trella might provide such a rallying point, but he intended to take care of her when the time came. And without Eskkar here to rouse the inhabitants and give them the will to resist, the city would fall like an over-ripe apple from a tree into Korthac’s waiting hands.
Eskkar would have to die, of course, but that could happen just as easily in the north as here in Akkad. As soon as Ariamus raised another twenty or thirty men, Korthac would strike. He’d take the city, then destroy the rest of Eskkar’s forces piecemeal. Only a fool divided his forces.
In his many battles, Korthac had learned one thing-concentrate his fighters and overwhelm his enemy. It had worked in Egypt and it would work here. He looked forward to teaching this Eskkar the same lesson.
Putting such ideas out of his mind, he thought about today’s cele-bratory feast. Korthac could smile at that, the futility of the men of this land relying on Ishtar, a female deity, for protection. As foolish as the men of Akkad relying on Trella. Eskkar’s wife had planned a special repast at her home to celebrate some incomprehensible aspect of Ishtar’s power, though the occasion also gave thanks for the deliverance of the city from the barbarian invasion, and for Eskkar’s recent success in Bisitun.
Whatever the reasons, Korthac recognized it for what it was, a chance for Trella to entertain and impress her followers with her authority. All the powerful and influential people in the city had received their invitations, a black-painted piece of pottery bearing Eskkar’s mark on one side and an image of the goddess on the other. Only the lucky few bearing the invitation, and their retainers, would be admitted to Eskkar’s house. The rest of Akkad would celebrate in the streets, probably long into the night.
Korthac had already resigned himself to a night without sleep, with the city full of noise and revelry.
He’d received the invitation three days ago, and, befitting his new status in Akkad, no doubt one of the first to be delivered. This morning he’d coached Hathor in his role, making sure the dour soldier knew how to behave, and reminding him once again to make sure he gave no offense.
Korthac had even bought a new tunic for his subcommander, something that would reflect favorably on his employer’s status.
The late afternoon sun drifted toward the horizon when, wearing his finest garment and new leather sandals, Korthac strode through the streets to Eskkar’s gate, Hathor at his side. Naturally his subcommander carried a sword, but Korthac went unarmed. Weapons would not be permitted inside the courtyard, the usual policy to ensure guests who drank too much didn’t wind up killing each other over some perceived slight.
Of course the weapons’ ban also protected Trella, and Korthac had to admit that her guards knew their business, staying alert and watching the crowds wherever she walked about the city.
Reaching Eskkar’s gate, Korthac and Hathor had to wait in line, as the guards checked invitations and made sure none of the guests were armed.
“Greetings, Honorable Korthac.” The guard bowed slightly as he took the clay shard from Korthac’s hand. “Are there more in your party?”
“No, just the two of us.” Korthac gave the soldier a friendly smile.
Hathor had already removed his sword belt and handed it to another of Trella’s guards. Hathor even managed a tight smile as he did so.
“Please enter Lord Eskkar’s house, honored guests.” The guard bowed again, already turning to greet the next in line.
Inside the courtyard, a half-dozen tables held pitchers of wine, bread covered with honey, platters of fruit and sweets. A clay bowl in the center of each table held a large spray of flowers, each table offering a different blossom. Smoke rose from the rear of the courtyard, as well as from the kitchens, and the scent of crisping meat hung in the air. On the roof opposite Eskkar’s quarters, musicians played their flutes, and a juggler tossed his brightly painted wooden balls high in the air.
The courtyard, big as it was, couldn’t hold everyone, and the guests mingled inside the main house as well, talking and gesturing. Servants poured the wine, mixed equally with water, and several guests appeared to be under the wine-god’s spell already.
Korthac spotted several nobles from the ruling council, all of them distinguished by the dark blue trim on their tunics, a color reserved for the ruling families. He accepted a brimming cup from one of the table attendants, then moved as close to the rear wall as he could get without moving into the cooking area. Some of the guests appeared to be nothing more than common tradesmen, still wearing their ragged and dirt-stained tunics. At least a dozen soldiers were scattered about, the Hawk Clan emblem on their shoulders, mingling with the guests as if they were equals.
Unlike the rest of those invited, the Hawk Clan alone carried weapons, either short swords or knives. They, Korthac noted, did not have wine cups in their hands.
Women made up almost half the crowd, wearing their finest garments, standing beside their men or gossiping together. Most did not even cover their heads with scarves, a custom Korthac still hadn’t gotten used to.
“Honorable Korthac, may I offer you some of Lady Trella’s best wine?”
He turned to find Annok-sur standing at his side, a small pitcher in one hand, a wine cup in the other. Korthac smiled at her as he exchanged his half-empty cup for the new one. “I thank you for your gift, Annok-sur.” He took a sip. The sweet wine had a pleasing odor, a far better blend than what he had picked up at the table. “This is very good. My thanks to Lady Trella.”
