a slave, only this time she had a child due in a few weeks.
The last word from Eskkar had come three days ago, informing her yet again that he intended to remain in the north a little longer.
Her fists clenched in anger, furious at her husband for taking his pleasures in Bisitun, while Akkad and she fell into Korthac’s hands. How dare he leave her like this. He should have returned weeks ago to protect her. She wanted to… no, she needed Eskkar, needed him to save her and their unborn child. The thought that he might abandon them to their fate, turn away from her and Akkad, frightened her. She thought about his new woman, and that image made her rage increase. Perhaps he’d choose a fresh life with his new concubine, choose to avoid a fight and continue his life in the north. That image tortured her for a long moment, until she regained control of her emotions.
No, she decided. Eskkar would not abandon her. If for no other reason than his barbarian code of honor, he would return to destroy Korthac for what he’d done. If he still lived. Trella shook her head. Without him, if he were dead, there would be no hope to escape the fate that Korthac planned for her and the child. She had to believe that he remained alive, that he would come for her. She could cling to that.
“We must get word to Eskkar,” Trella whispered to Annok-sur, seated beside her. “He’ll need to know how strong a force Korthac has assembled.”
“Don’t forget, Bantor is due any day. Together they’ll…”
“Korthac isn’t afraid of Eskkar or Bantor, Annok-sur. Did you see how many men he has? I counted as many as I could when they took me to the gate. He must have at least a hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred. More than enough to control the city and stop anyone from rising up against him. Only Eskkar can rally the people to resist.”
“Assuming that he’s still alive,” Annok-sur said.
“He has to be alive, or we’re all lost,” Trella said. “Besides, how could they kill him up in Bisitun, guarded by Grond and surrounded by his men?”
“Both Korthac and Ariamus said Eskkar is dead.”
“Do you believe them? They offered no proof.”
Her own question made Trella stop and think. Proof would be Eskkar’s head, or a dozen witnesses to his death. She took her time, trying to recall the Egyptian’s exact words, and comparing them to those she’d overheard from the boasting Ariamus. Korthac had claimed his men had struck down Eskkar in Bisitun’s lanes, but Ariamus said Eskkar and his men had been killed in a fight. The slight difference might not mean much, but she needed something to give her hope.
“Korthac knows Bantor is returning,” Trella said, her mind beginning to think clearly once again. “Ariamus has taken every horse he could find and ridden south. They’ll meet Bantor’s men on the road, long before they arrive here.”
“Bantor has plenty of men, trained men. They won’t be easy to defeat.”
Trella shook her head. “No, Korthac must have some plan in mind.
If Bantor’s force is defeated, even driven off, Korthac can turn his full attention to the north. He’s defeating Eskkar’s forces piece by piece. That’s his plan.” She reached out and took Annok-sur’s hand. “I fear for your husband.”
“Ariamus will find killing Bantor harder than he thinks. Bantor hates the man since… from the old days, when he was captain of the guard.”
She put her arm around Trella. “And Eskkar isn’t easy to stop, either.”
“I wanted Eskkar back here, but now… it’s better that he remains up north. He might be safer there.”
Both women stayed silent for a moment. Their hopes for survival depended on their husbands living long enough to rescue them.
“Is there anything we can do, Trella? I mean, can we kill Korthac somehow?”
“Even if we could, his Egyptians would cut us to pieces, then slaughter half the city. And I saw his face. He’ll use any pretext to beat me, but he’s looking for an excuse to kill you, to keep me in fear of him. You must not give him any reason. No matter what he does to me, keep still. Don’t provoke him. I need you to stay alive. Promise me that.”
“You know what he’ll do to you. He’ll want to show everyone in Akkad that you belong to him now, that you’re nothing more than his slave.”
Trella touched her swollen face, still feeling the sting in her cheek from where Korthac struck her. “Whatever Korthac wants, we’ll do. We need to stay alive, at least for now. In a few days, if we find everything is hopeless, then I’ll try to kill him.”
“He’ll use the child to control you.”
“The child will have to die. I know that. He’ll want no reminder of Eskkar or me left alive.” She shook her head at the thought. “I’ll kill the babe myself, if it comes to that.”
Trella reached out and took Annok-sur’s hand. “You’ll die as well. He surely knows what role you played in gathering information. As soon as he thinks he’s secure, then we’ll no longer be needed.” Trella shrugged.
“I have the birthing knife, Trella, if it comes to that. Though I prefer trying to slit his throat with it.”
During the confusion, Trella had seen Annok-sur slip the small knife inside the lamp. But the tiny implement, a special gift from Drusala, and meant to be used to cut the umbilical cord, had a blade no longer than Trella’s finger.
“It’s not much of a weapon against Korthac,” Trella said, “although it may serve to end our own lives. Keep the knife safe, Annok-sur. We may have to use it on ourselves. Until that day, we obey our new master. We must stay alive, for the child’s sake, if nothing else, and to give Eskkar time to gather his forces. As long as we obey Korthac instantly, as long as he thinks we’re of use to him, he’ll keep us alive for a little while longer.”
“So we grovel before this Egyptian.”
“We grovel, Annok-sur.” Out of habit, Trella reached for the coin that she’d worn around her neck since Eskkar first gave it to her. Her freedom coin, he’d called it. Now it was gone, given to another, as vanished as her freedom. “We grovel, and we wait.”
17
Ariamus had hidden his sixty-three horsemen in a tiny fold of ground, a little more than one hundred paces from the trail Bantor’s men were following back to Akkad. Ariamus had galloped his horse that far himself, and knew his horsemen could cover that distance in moments, long before his victims could dismount and string their bows. Horse to horse, his charging men on fresh mounts would have the advantage.
The low crest of the rise concealed fifty of Ariamus’s men abreast, and the remainder formed a smaller group behind the main line. He had twenty hard-bitten fi ghters scattered among them. Most of these he’d recruited himself, though Korthac had added half a dozen of his Egyptians, probably with instructions to keep an eye on their commander.
Chewing his lip, Ariamus waited for the single scout who tracked the approaching column. They’d sighted Bantor’s men hours ago, and they’d be here soon. Everything would work against the Akkadians-their horses would be tired from a long day’s ride, they would be traveling uphill, and they expected to reach Akkad’s gates and safety in a few more hours. Ariamus knew the Akkadians had shadowed the retreating Alur Meriki for over a month. That mission completed, Bantor and his soldiers were returning in high spirits to their women, plenty of ale, and a chance to sleep in their own beds. The last thing on their minds would be an ambush so close to home.
He grinned at the thought. Instead of safety, the returning soldiers would die right here, and it would be Ariamus’s men who would ride through the open gates of Akkad. Korthac had planned everything with care, Ariamus admitted, though he hated to give the man so much credit.
Ariamus and his men had done well in last night’s battle, capturing the river gate with a minimum of fighting. Just as important, he’d seized the boats docked there with no loss of cargo, and no vessels escaping up or down the Tigris. With both the river and the local roads under Korthac’s control, at least a few days would pass before the countryside learned what had taken place in Akkad. The only thing that could have gone better was if Takany had managed to get himself killed. Ariamus had craftily made sure the thickheaded Egyptian led the fight at the
