“I’ll get my oils,” En-hedu said, bowing to Joratta.
Tammuz followed her back into their quarters, and gave her a quick hug. “Good luck to you, and take care around Joratta and the guard. They’ll be angry enough.”
“You did well, husband. I’ll try and soothe Joratta’s feelings on the way, and the guard’s.”
She left the chamber and the inn. Tammuz followed her to the doorway and watched the three of them disappear up the lane. This was what Lady Trella had hoped for, planned for — a chance to move into the inner circle of Sumer’s elite. Now he just had to hope he hadn’t played his role too strongly.
25
En-hedu did soothe Joratta’s feelings on the walk back to his master’s house, and even the bodyguard stopped glaring at her. Servants and slaves of powerful families often became as arrogant as their masters, and expected everyone to obey their slightest command. Nevertheless, En-hedu felt worried that perhaps Tammuz had angered the servant so much that he would convince his mistress never to summon her again.
The house of Puzur-Amurri was an imposing two-story residence in the most fashionable of Sumer’s quarters, not far from King Shulgi’s Compound. It lacked a walled courtyard to separate it from the lane, but competent workmen had plastered the front of the house and painted it a light blue. The doorway, taller than a man and wide enough to allow two men to walk in abreast, announced its owner’s wealth and position. En-hedu saw that a servant stood watch outside the door, opening it for expected guests, and making sure no one in the lanes used the walls of the Puzur-Amurri home to relieve themselves.
Inside, En-hedu found herself in a large chamber that seemed to have no purpose. An opening that reached up through the second floor allowed light and fresh air to enter the room. Benches faced each other from the side walls, and two doorways led to the interior of the house. The chamber provided a place out of the heat for clients to wait until Master Puzur-Amurri deigned to meet them. A real extravagance, she decided. Those wishing to visit his wives would also remain here until summoned.
“Wait here,” Joratta ordered.
He disappeared through the door on the right. En-hedu had expected to be brought to the wife, Ninlil, right away, but apparently whatever urgency dispatched the servant had vanished. After awhile, En-hedu set her basket of oils on the bench and sat beside it.
The odd-shaped shadow caused by the sun moved slowly across the floor. Once a man came out of the second door, but he didn’t even bother to glance in her direction as he left the house.
At last Joratta returned. “Come with me. Be respectful to Mistress Ninlil, and do as she asks.”
He led the way through the other door, down an impressively wide passageway until he reached another chamber. A carved door stood open, but Joratta knocked anyway.
A listless voice bade him enter.
“Mistress, the woman En-hedu is here.”
En-hedu timidly followed him into the room. A bedroom larger than anything she had ever seen in Akkad — even in the house of Lady Trella — greeted her eyes. A narrow window looked out into a courtyard that faced the rear of the house. A table rested near the window, flanked by two carved chairs. Three chests lined the opposite wall, and En-hedu wondered how anyone could have so many possessions as to need that many. The remainder of the room was taken up by the largest bed En-hedu had ever seen. The merchant Puzur-Amurri must have plenty of wealth to lavish so much of it on a mere second wife.
Ninlil reclined on the bed, her head propped up by two cushions. A loose garment dyed light brown covered her breasts, but her shoulders were bare. She spared En-hedu a quick glance and wrinkled her mouth in distaste.
“She’s filthy. I won’t have her dirty hands on me. Are you sure she’s the one?”
“Yes, mistress. En-hedu of the Kestrel Inn.”
“Can you give a good massage, woman?”
En-hedu bowed low. “Yes, mistress.” She let a quaver slip into her voice. Ninlil expected to be feared and obeyed.
“Oomara says you helped her slave. She’d injured her back, and she claimed you cured it.”
“I am not a healer, mistress, only a giver of massages. Many times it can help ease the pain in a person’s back.”
Ninlil pondered her choices for a moment. “Clean her up, Joratta. Scrub the dirt off her if you have to.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back on the cushion.
Joratta took En-hedu’s arm. “Come with me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if he did not want to wake his mistress. En-hedu followed him through the door and into the passage, turning this time in the opposite direction, until they reached the rear of the house. He guided her to the well, which provided fresh water for the household, and En-hedu drew up a bucket. She washed her hands and face, drying both on her dress, while Joratta leaned against the wall, impatience showing in his nervous movements.
“I’m ready, Joratta.”
“You’d best do a good job, or she’ll take it out on me.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Back in the bedroom, they found Ninlil sitting up in bed. She dismissed Joratta. “Let me see your hands,” she commanded. “Clean enough, I suppose,” she muttered. “But take off that dress. I don’t want your filthy clothes touching any part of me or my bed.”
En-hedu wasn’t a slave to be commanded or paraded naked for her master’s benefit, but Joratta had closed the door behind him, so the two women had the chamber to themselves. En-hedu set her basket down on the floor and pulled her dress up and over her head. She held the garment in her hand, then dropped it on the floor. No doubt Ninlil would have protested if En-hedu’s dress had touched anything else in the room.
Ninlil removed her covering, and flopped back onto the bed on her stomach. The movement drew a gasp of pain from the woman as she tried to find a comfortable position. “Begin. Do something.”
En-hedu heard the pain in her voice. She ran her fingers down the woman’s back. The first thing she noticed was how soft Ninlil’s skin felt to her touch. Too soft. En-hedu probed with her fingertips and felt little resistance. The beautiful body was weak, with no firm muscles resisting En-hedu’s probing touch. Ninlil had probably never done any physical work in her life, likely never lifted anything heavier than a wine cup. Fawning servants no doubt provided everything at her command.
“Watch where you touch, woman. That hurts!”
It probably did, En-hedu saw. A lump under the skin showed where the girl’s pitiful muscles had contracted in a knot. The spine appeared crooked as well. She opened her mouth to tell Ninlil what she found, then closed it. Better to say nothing about such things.
“I’m going to knead the muscles on your back, mistress. It may feel painful at first, but it should give you relief.”
En-hedu poured a few drops of oil across the girl’s shoulders, and started working the muscles from the neck down. The base of Ninlil’s neck had another clump of strained muscles, and she massaged that slowly, taking her time and letting the heat from the oil and her hands warm the flesh. Gradually the knot loosened a bit, and En-hedu moved her hands lower.
Groans and grunts accompanied her every touch.
“How long has your back troubled you, mistress?” Talking might distract Ninlil from the pain.
“None of your… damn you, that hurts! Can’t you be more gentle?”
“I’m sorry, mistress. But I must work your muscles if you are to feel better.”
“I fell and hurt my back about two years ago. Since then, the pain has grown worse each day. Now when my husband visits my bed, he complains that I can’t pleasure him properly.”
“How often does he come to you?” En-hedu moved her hands lower.
“Every three days. He has two other wives. Neither is as beautiful as I am, but they have no pain to deal with. They can do things to him that I cannot.”
“How sad.” She added a few more drops of oil, and moved her hands lower. Now the really deep massage
