“When he is old enough, I will send him north to the lands of the Ur Nammu. They will teach him how to be a warrior. When he returns, you will teach him how to be a king.”
“We’ll talk about that when the time comes.”
Eskkar knew she wasn’t convinced of the wisdom of sending the boy away. But that day of reckoning lay seven or eight years in the future.
“En-hedu is also carrying a child,” Trella said. “Though he may grow up to be more Sumerian than Akkadian.”
“And Cnari has given Hathor a son. Our children and those of our friends will all grow up together.”
“And you and I, Eskkar, will make sure they do. We must never forget that our strength lies in the hearts of our people. As long as we care for them as much as we care for Sargon, they will give us their allegiance. Sumer and Larsa showed what happens when rulers place their own desires above those of their subjects.”
“You will make sure of that,” Eskkar said, “while I will make certain our army remains strong. Gatus would have made sure of that. And who knows from what direction the next danger will come?”
She turned away from the expanse, and put her arms around his neck. “Our blood is still in these walls, husband. And soon our children will draw their strength from these same walls.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I think you will give them more strength than any wall, no matter how high or strong.”
Eskkar glanced up at the heavens. One by one, the stars were breaking through the darkness. Perhaps because of them, he’d survived another battle, another conflict. Whatever role they planned for his future was yet to be played out. But for now, they had given him what he wanted, and he didn’t intend to waste the moment.
“Come, Trella. Let’s go home. I want to play with my son.”
