guards.”
With the speed of a striking snake, En-hedu snatched the coins back from the first guard’s still open palm. “No! My uncle warned us that you would demand more. If there was any trouble, he said we should ask to see your commander and give the payment to him.”
The guard frowned. A small group had gathered to watch the newcomers pay their entry fee. Hearing the commotion, they edged closer, as eager to see either the guards humiliated or the newcomers driven away. He glanced around, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “All right, damn you both, two coins to enter. Either pay or get away from the gate.”
“Two coppers. No more.” En-hedu extended her hand, and once again the coins dropped into the first soldier’s palm. A few of the gawkers laughed at the guards’ discomfort.
Tammuz grabbed En-hedu, jerking her to his side. “Be silent, woman. Remember your place.” He bowed to the guards. “I thank you for your help.”
Slinging his sack over his shoulder, Tammuz pushed his way through the gate, En-hedu following a step behind.
“Give her a good beating tonight,” a woman called out.
“If you’re strong enough,” another voice shouted. A laugh went up, and this time the guards joined in.
“He already did,” the first guard added in a loud voice. “Look at her nose.”
En-hedu’s first master had broken her nose in a drunken rage, and it had never healed properly.
More laughter greeted the jest, but by that time, Tammuz and Enhedu had stepped through the gate. The guard’s words meant nothing; they had heard it all before.
As soon as they were well inside the city, Tammuz grinned at her. “That went well. I was expecting them to ask us our business or look inside the sacks.”
“All they care about is taking bribes from ignorant farmers.” En-hedu turned her thoughts to the present. “Now we have to find a place to stay the night.”
Walking through the crowded lanes, they attracted little attention, just two more wide-eyed farmers moving into the city and carrying their handful of possessions. It didn’t take them long to reach the poorer section of Sumer. Yavtar had described the city in detail to both of them, and they not only knew where to go, but already had some idea of what they would find.
They stopped at one of the taverns which also functioned as an inn, a humble enough place suggested by Yavtar. An older woman with long gray hair straggling down her back blocked the doorway, her hands on her wide hips. She appraised them from head to toe and appeared to find little opportunity for profit.
“What do you want?”
“A safe place to stay for a few nights,” En-hedu answered, “and perhaps some food.”
“Only if you can pay. Too many people without any coins in Sumer these days.”
“We can pay something,” En-hedu said, “and we can work until we’re settled.”
“There’s no work here, but one copper coin, and you can spend the night. In advance. Supper only, one cup of ale.” The woman’s firm voice showed there would be no haggling.
En-hedu glanced at Tammuz, who shrugged. One place was as good as another.
She paid the woman, who stepped aside and let them enter. This early in the day, the tavern stood empty, except for an old man leaning back against the wall, dozing with his mouth open. Only a few flies buzzed about. To En-hedu’s surprise, the place appeared to have been swept clean. By tonight, she knew the usual debris from the customers would litter the dirt floor.
“Since you’re here early, you can pick whatever place you like to sleep,” the woman said. “My husband will return before sundown. No ale or wine before then. If you want water, there’s a well down the lane.”
“Thank you, mistress.”
They had already stopped and drunk their fill. En-hedu picked her way to a spot on the opposite wall from where they entered. It was far enough away from the table where the owner would dispense the wine and ale, and almost as distant from the door to discourage any would-be robber. Thieves sometimes kicked open the door in the middle of the night, grabbed whatever they could, and fled before the sleeping customers knew they were being robbed. It had happened before, in Tammuz’s own tavern in Akkad.
They sat down, backs against the wall, grateful to be off their feet. As always, En-hedu sat at Tammuz’s left. His left arm, crooked and wasted, lacked any strength, and he could use it for small tasks only with some difficulty. His right hand and arm, however, rippled with thick muscle that bespoke long sessions each day to increase its strength. The sharp knife he wore on his belt was a gift from Lady Trella. While it appeared to be an old and well- worn weapon, it had been forged from the finest bronze by Akkad’s master swordmaker, then deliberately aged and nicked. A thief might give it a glance, but none would consider it worth stealing.
En-hedu carried her own knife, smaller but just as sharp, inside her dress. The baggy garment concealed both the weapon and her well-endowed bosom. In spite of her sturdy frame, as tall as her husband, both she and Tammuz could move like cats, quick and light on their feet.
“Rest, husband. I’ll keep watch.” She touched his leg, a little gesture of affection.
He smiled at her, then slumped down a little more. She watched him drift off to sleep. They would have to take turns staying awake during the night, lest some thief try to rob them. That was a risk they couldn’t take. The sacks they carried contained five gold coins, ten silver ones, and twenty coppers, all carrying marks from Sumer’s merchants.
Those coins, however, would enable them to establish a tavern of their own, much like the ones they had owned first in Akkad and then in Bisitun. En-hedu remembered the days not long ago when she would have stood in the doorway, making sure customers could pay or trade before they entered.
King Eskkar and Lady Trella had asked Tammuz and En-hedu to become their spies in Sumer. The couple had played a similar role once before, in Akkad. Nearly three years ago, Trella had rescued En-hedu from her brutal husband, who had beaten her so often that she begged for death. His last pummeling had broken her nose. After a few months to recover her health and spirit, Trella gave En-hedu as a slave to Tammuz, to help him run his little tavern.
He had just entered his fifteenth season, about the same age as Enhedu. Tammuz had treated his new possession with gentleness, and when the last of En-hedu’s emotional wounds finally healed, she found herself in love with her new master. His tender feeling for her gave En-hedu the first happiness she could remember.
Tammuz, already operating as a spy for Trella, kept watch on the worst of the beggars and thieves in Akkad, those desperate enough to kill anyone for a few coins. To fit in with his less reputable customers, Tammuz bought and sold stolen goods, and protected the petty criminals from the city’s guard as best he could. As a result, he gained his patrons’ trust, and he saw and heard much of what went on among Akkad’s dregs.
Trella neither wanted to know nor cared about the petty thievery that happened every day in Akkad, and every other village for that matter. What she sought was knowledge about anything serious, any whisper or hint of a planned deed that might threaten her husband and his rule.
By then few knew or remembered that Tammuz had ridden as a horse boy with Eskkar on his first skirmish. Disobeying orders, Tammuz joined in the fighting and killed an Alur Meriki warrior with an arrow. Then a horse and rider knocked him aside, shattering his arm in several places. Injured on the war trail and forced to ride while the fever raged in his body, Tammuz nearly died. Most leaders would have abandoned the friendless boy, but Eskkar did his best to keep Tammuz alive. A few nights later, when Eskkar and the other handful of survivors established the Hawk Clan, Tammuz, still racked with fever, had managed to swear the same oath that bound all of the surviving fighters together. At least that’s what the others told him, though Tammuz had little recollection of the ritual.
Because of his crippled arm, Tammuz could no longer fight, and most of the Hawk Clan members soon forgot about the crippled boy. But Trella, struggling to deal with the corrupt and devious nobles, had found a use for him, setting Tammuz up in the alehouse to keep an eye on those most willing to do violence.
When Korthac seized Akkad, Tammuz and En-hedu felt as helpless as anyone. But within a few days, Eskkar returned from the north and, in the middle of the night, broke into the city. Fighting had raged everywhere, and Tammuz had rushed to join in. By then he’d grown proficient with a knife, and several of Korthac’s Egyptian fighters died under his blade during the battle. En-hedu had killed one man herself, to save her master’s life.
Nevertheless, the fighting and its aftermath revealed Tammuz’s role as one of Eskkar’s loyal followers. They could no longer pretend to be dealers in stolen goods or even plain innkeepers. Twenty days after Korthac died under torture, Lady Trella sent Tammuz and En-hedu north for their own protection, to the village of Bisitun.
