Clash Of Empires

Chapter 1

Fifteen days later. .

When Eskkar entered the Workroom, he found Trella and Daro already there. The King of Akkad took his seat behind the long table with an unusual sigh of satisfaction. The oversized and comfortable chair, made especially for him, provided a welcome relief from the back of his horse. A tall man with a frame still covered in hard muscle, Eskkar seldom enjoyed a comfortable place to sit and take his ease.

The Workroom, on the upper level of Eskkar’s house, had provided a secure and quiet place for many an important conversation. The chamber held two tables and eight chairs, as well as a large chest. On its top rested all the cups, candles, platters for fruits and cakes, and several red clay pitchers that contained two varieties of wine and fresh water from the Compound’s private well.

The wall behind the table where Eskkar had taken his seat displayed various weapons. Three swords, two knives, a well-polished copper helmet, and a slim throwing lance hung from various hooks. A long Akkadian bow also rested on pegs, with a quiver of arrows beneath. In the center of the display, a leather sling dangled in the place of honor. Over the years, Eskkar had mastered all of them, and he maintained his proficiency by training part of each day.

For almost a month, Eskkar had ridden the foothills and passes through the Zagros Mountains, studying the land and searching for favorable terrain. He’d also met with his allies, the Ur Nammu, as well as the Alur Meriki. A weary Eskkar had come back to Akkad well after sunset last night, and for once he freely admitted to his wife that it felt good to be home.

He’d slept soundly, and an early morning bout of lovemaking improved his good mood. But now Eskkar had duties to resume. And the first order of the day involved his wife Trella and Daro.

“It’s good to have you back, Captain.” Daro used the title Eskkar preferred, at least from his friends and closest companions. More than fifteen years ago, as Captain of Akkad’s Guard, Eskkar had saved the city from annihilation by invading barbarians. “Did you find what you sought?”

Eskkar laughed. “That’s the first question Trella asked me last night. I may have, though we’ll need more work before we can be sure. But I understand that you and Trella have managed to find a well-placed commander in Elam’s army.”

“Daro is the one who rescued Sabatu and brought him to Akkad,” Trella said. She sat at her usual place, at the end of the table, while her husband faced Daro across the long side. “He risked his life, so he should tell you how it all came about. He observed many details that you may find important.”

With the occasional prompting from Eskkar and Trella, Daro related the entire story of his expedition with Yavtar to the land of Elam. The scene in the marketplace in Sushan, the stealthy midnight swim up the river, the search and rescue of Sabatu, the sea chase, and the difficult passage along the edge of the Great Sea until ship and crew reached the Tigris and Sumer.

Eskkar asked many questions about the journey. Daro added more details about the voyage, and explained how Yavtar had raced the boat back to Sumer, and then up river to Akkad. Doubts about whether their passenger would live or die had worried both men.

When Eskkar had heard the whole tale, he turned to Trella. “And how helpful has Sabatu been? Has he told you anything we can use?”

“No, Husband, not yet. He was close to death when he arrived here, and I thought it best to let him recover as much as he could. It’s only been in the last few days that he and Daro have ventured out of the Compound and into the City.”

“But he will help us?” Eskkar glanced at Daro. “You’ve been with him for all these days. He must have said something.”

Daro hesitated. “He has not yet decided to assist us. Naturally he wants revenge against Grand Commander Chaiyanar, but his heart seems to think it would be traitorous to aid us. I thought it best not to push him.”

Eskkar frowned, and he looked toward Trella. “You couldn’t convince him to give us information?”

Trella’s sincerity and power of persuasion had opened many hearts and minds to gain their support. Eskkar had complete faith in her uncanny ability to win people to her side, and if she couldn’t convince this Sabatu, then a problem existed.

“I’ve spoken to Sabatu nearly every day,” Trella said, “but I don’t think he’s dealt with many women before. He’s polite to me, and nothing more. And even though Daro saved his life, Sabatu will not open up to him.”

“I’ve also talked with him several times each day,” Daro said, “and he’s learned our language well enough to converse, but something holds him back.”

“I told him he could leave Akkad whenever he wished,” Trella said. “He’s nearly able to travel now.”

“And you want me to speak to him.” Over the years, Eskkar had learned that whenever Trella didn’t propose some course of action, she wanted him to deal with the situation.

“From what we’ve learned about Elam and its people,” Trella said, “it appears that their leaders and rulers all have their defined place in society. The people are little better than slaves, and everyone does what they’re told. Otherwise they’re publicly beaten, or condemned into slavery. Soldiers strut about the marketplace, abusing the common people.”

“Yet they have a vast military,” Eskkar said, “and have used it to conquer all the lands east of the Zagros Mountain and all the way to the Indus. Whatever the lot of its people, Elam’s government is efficient enough.”

Daro nodded. “Yes, it’s true. But it is not a land I would like to live in.”

“Perhaps that is why Sabatu doesn’t feel comfortable with Akkad’s more relaxed way of doing things,” Trella said. “He was taken aback when he learned that this is our only house, and that we rule the city from here, not some vast palace filled with riches, slaves and servants. Somehow we must convince him that our way of doing things is at least equal or better than Elam’s.”

“Then I think I should see him,” Eskkar said, “and at once. I don’t want anyone, let alone a soldier with Sabatu’s experience and training, wandering throughout Akkad. Think what he could tell his former masters. The knowledge that we’re aware of the coming war would be harmful enough. He might even be able to trade such information for the return of his old privileges.”

“Yes, Husband, I agree.” Trella turned to Daro. “It’s time for Sabatu to choose his future.”

Noon approached when Sabatu climbed the stairs to the upper level of the Compound’s main house, the wooden treads creaking beneath his feet. His fear — he knew it was fear, even though a soldier should never admit to such a feeling — rose up from his belly to his throat. Daro had delivered the summons. King Eskkar of Akkad wanted to speak with Sabatu.

“You will translate for me?”

Daro had shaken his head. “I won’t be with you, so you’ll have to communicate as best you can in Akkadian. King Eskkar doesn’t speak the language of Elam, and Lady Trella has business in another part of the City.”

Sabatu knew the King had returned only last night from some training mission in the north, and it had surprised Sabatu to be sent for so soon. But he understood what it meant. The time for Daro and the Queen’s gentle persuasions had passed.

When Sabatu entered the main house, a vigilant Hawk Clan guard at the foot of the stairs had briefly studied the visitor, but Sabatu’s simple tunic fit too well to conceal a weapon. Another guard, equally formidable, at the top of the stairs repeated the examination, but both soldiers appeared to trust more to Daro’s nod of approval.

At the upper landing, the second guard opened the door, and gestured Sabatu to pass inside. The door closed behind him, and Sabatu was alone with the Akkadian ruler.

“Come in. Sit down.”

The King spoke slowly and clearly, no doubt aware of Sabatu’s recent learning of the language of the Land Between the Rivers.

No one sat in the presence of King Shirudukh of Elam. Sabatu glanced around the plainly furnished chamber, but the only chairs stood beside the table where the King sat, his back to the wall. No fancy tapestries, no jeweled swords displayed, no statues of gold, nothing to overawe a visitor and remind him of the haughty power of the King. Merchants in Sushan displayed more wealth, the better to impress their clients and customers.

The ruler of Akkad seemed as ordinary as the room. A large man, Sabatu guessed Eskkar would stand a head taller and considerably broader. The King’s tunic, much the same as the one Daro wore, left his arms bare, and powerful muscles rippled under the skin. Dark brown hair, with only a hint of gray at the temples, was fastened with a simple strip of leather. Brown eyes set in a wide forehead examined the visitor. A scar on his cheek lent a grim look to Akkad’s leader. Sabatu knew the King was an old man, in his middle forties, but the years sat lightly on his shoulders.

Even in his brief stay, Sabatu had heard many stories of King Eskkar’s prowess and fighting skills, and dismissed them as the usual tales circulated about every ruler. But now, seeing the man face to face, Sabatu decided that the narratives might be true.

The King gestured to the chair opposite his own. Sabatu crossed the room, and bowed low. Unsure of what to do, he held the position, awaiting the King’s permission to straighten up.

“Just sit, Sabatu.” King Eskkar smiled. “No need to bow like that to anyone in Akkad, or anywhere in the Land Between the Rivers. The leaders of Sumer and Isin and the other cities prefer to look at a man’s face, not stare down at the back of his head.”

Suddenly nervous, Sabatu eased himself into the seat, aware that the King’s eyes were studying Sabatu closely. He sensed the power behind those eyes. The King was a leader of fighting men as well as ruler of the wealthiest city in the Land Between the Rivers, and as such no doubt knew much about what went on inside a soldier’s mind. Leaders who could not size up a soldier’s strengths and weaknesses seldom rose to command an army.

“Let me see your hands.”

Sabatu’s eyes widened at the strange request, but the simple command carried the force of the King’s presence stronger than any words from any ruler in Elam. Sabatu lifted his hands onto the table, ashamed of their condition. The broken thumbs, injured for so many days without being set, had healed awkwardly, the bones twisted from their usual position. He could scarcely use them. Sabatu had also lost almost all feeling in the fourth and fifth finger of each hand, the result of the tough ropes that had bound his hands throughout his confinement.

The King took only a moment to examine Sabatu’s hands. “Have you tried to hold a sword?”

“King Eskkar, Daro let me try his sword, but I could not grasp it properly.” Embarrassed, he lowered his gaze. When he lifted his eyes, Sabatu saw the King deep in thought, his gaze focused only on the table.

The silence lingered for more than a few moments, and Sabatu started to think the King had forgotten his visitor, when the King abruptly rose. “Wait here a moment.” Eskkar went to the door and called out to the guard.

The King spoke too fast for Sabatu to follow the words, and the conversation went on for some time, with the guard asking several questions. At last Eskkar returned to his seat across the table.

“It is difficult thing when a fighting man can no longer fight,” the King said, as he settled back into his chair. “I’ve seen many men who had to face that bitter truth. A crushed leg, a lost arm, even a hard fall can end a soldier’s trade. Some lose all hope, others take to drinking too much ale, and a few even kill themselves, unwilling to face their friends and companions.”

The words were spoken without emotion, just a simple statement. But Sabatu felt them burn into his heart. Night and day, he had cursed the shameful fate that had taken the sword from his hands, and turned him into something less than a man. It came as a shock that a king could know such things.

“What did the healer say?”

Sabatu lifted his eyes, and found the King watching him. “The healer, Ventor, says that there is some hope, that over the years, I may regain some use of my hands.”

Eskkar grunted. “Ventor is a good healer, but a bad liar.”

“Yes, King Eskkar. But I believe he meant well.”

“He saved my life when I first came to Akkad, and he healed Trella after she was struck by an assassin’s knife. But giving false hope to a fighting man. . better to tell a soldier the truth.”

The admission that the King had once been near death surprised Sabatu. “Yes, King Eskkar.”

Sabatu wondered what all this meant. He expected the King to order him to divulge information about Elam, with the threat of more torture or death accompanying the command. Instead, the King spoke about his life.

“Like you, Sabatu, my family was killed. As a boy, I watched my mother and brother die, and my sister. . I hope that she died quickly. I fled my clan, and had to grow to manhood among my enemies. I was alone, and each day I struggled to survive, always prepared for death.”

A knock sounded on the door, and without waiting for a reply, a tall soldier with a dark complexion entered the chamber. He crossed the room in three long strides and took a seat at the table. Sabatu noted that the man did not seek permission to sit.

“This is Hathor, the commander of Akkad’s cavalry,” King Eskkar said. “We just returned from the north, and Hathor rode with me. I thought you should meet him.”

Hathor nodded at Sabatu, but said nothing.

“Hathor comes from the distant land of Egypt, far to the west. Nearly fifteen years ago, he was once the enemy of Akkad. In the battle for the city, Hathor was wounded and captured during the fighting, before he could kill himself. But he had shown mercy to Trella when she was captured. To repay that kindness, and because she knew Hathor was more than a mere soldier, she wanted to spare him. From that day, he, too, was alone among strangers, but he has become my friend. Like many in Akkad, he has found a home and a new family here. The soldiers under his command fight willingly and bravely.”

Sabatu stared at the Egyptian.

“It’s true.” Hathor’s voice held just a faint trace of an accent. “I can still remember what it felt like to be completely alone and facing death. But King Eskkar and Lady Trella gave me not only my life, but a new purpose. Now my family is not just my wife and children, but my soldiers, and the people of Akkad. In time, they not only forgave me, but also befriended me.”

Another knock sounded, a different pattern, and once again the door opened. The guard stepped into chamber. “They’re here. Should I bring them in?”

“Yes. Thank you for getting them so quickly.”

This time Sabatu knew his surprise showed on his face. The King of Akkad thanking a guard for obeying orders, and no one thought it odd or unusual.

A sturdy young man strode in, and a moment later, two more men, both older, slowly paced their way into the room. One man had a patch covering an eye, and the other appeared lame. They held onto each other, the lame guiding the half-blind.

To Sabatu’s shock, both Eskkar and Hathor rose to their feet, and the tall Egyptian moved quickly to arrange the chairs so that the two older men could sit comfortably.

“Captain, it is good to see you again.” These words came from the young man, who apparently felt free to speak before the King gave permission. Suddenly Sabatu noticed that the man was a cripple, with his left arm hanging awkwardly.

“This is Tammuz,” King Eskkar said, nodding to the young man. “And it is good to see my other companions, Dragan and Ibi-sin. They are brothers, and both of them had suffered torture and injury by the hand of the King of Larsa. At the risk of their lives, they helped me defeat his forces and capture his city, and they have been honored in Akkad ever since.”

The King resumed his seat. “And Tammuz, he fought beside me in my very first fight, when the people of Akkad battled against the invading barbarians. Only a horse boy at the time, he disobeyed orders, took up a bow, and managed to kill a warrior before his arm was crushed. He has been a member of the Hawk Clan since that day. In our war against Sumer, he once again fought for Akkad and helped bring about our victory.”

Sabatu bowed slightly. He’d heard about the Hawk Clan and its status. Daro had spoken of it with obvious pride. But these others? Three cripples, not only allowed into the presence of the King, but welcomed as companions and fellow fighting men. In all of Sabatu’s visits to King Shirudukh’s palace, he had never seen a cripple. Sabatu didn’t know what to say.

King Eskkar paused a moment, to let his words sink in. “Sabatu was tortured in a distant land, but found his way to Akkad. He has only been here a short time, and is yet unfamiliar with our ways. His hands are injured, and he will likely not ever use a weapon again. But I thought it might be good for him to see that there are other ways a soldier can fight. A sword is not always needed to make a man a warrior. Dragan and Ibi-sin proved that. They risked even worse torture and death, but saved hundreds of Akkadian soldiers.”

“King Eskkar is too kind,” Dragan said. “It was little enough that we did. But even if we had died, it would have been worth it to see those who tortured and killed our family destroyed. For that, we will always be thankful to King Eskkar and Lady Trella.”

“The Hawk Clan will always be in your debt,” King Eskkar said.

Dragan glanced at his brother. “If there is anything that we can do to assist Sabatu, we will be glad to help. We understand the pain he suffers.” He turned to Sabatu. “It is said that torture weakens a man, but I say it makes him stronger, even though it may leave him maimed and mangled. As many of us have learned, even a man with a crooked leg or one eye can fight.”

Tammuz leaned forward. “I was only fifteen when my arm was crushed. I thought my life had ended, and I prayed for death. Instead, Lady Trella and King Eskkar took me into their family. Lady Trella arranged a wise wife for me, one who shares my life. For that, she and I willingly went into battle against their enemies.”

Unsure of what to say, Sabatu bowed his head.

“I am glad Sabatu had the chance to meet all of you,” King Eskkar said. “A man needs to know that he is not alone, that others have suffered as he did and survived, even thrived. In the next few days, he may want to spend time with you, and hear your stories.” The King stood. “Hathor, will you see that Dragan and Ibi-sin are escorted home? And my thanks to you, Tammuz.”

“Yes, Captain.” Hathor rose, and with Tammuz helping, they assisted the two brothers out of the chamber.

Sabatu could scarcely keep his thoughts under control. He still wasn’t sure what it all meant. But as soon as the door closed, the conversation took a different tone.

“Sabatu, I asked them here to meet with you, so that you could see that a new life can be made, even when it seems impossible. You have been given that chance, and Trella and Daro say more than enough time has passed for you to choose. Now you must decide what it is you will do, and in the morning you will give us your decision. If you choose not to help us, then you will be given some coins and a horse, and you will be banished from Akkad. You may go wherever you like, but you cannot remain here. I cannot have anyone who is not completely loyal within the City.”

“I. . I know I am in your debt, King Eskkar. Daro and Yavtar saved my life at the risk of their own. But what you ask is not something that comes easy to me.”

The King nodded. “A soldier’s life is indeed a hard one, with death always at hand. Every man must make his own path, and uphold his honor in his own way. And while we would welcome your assistance, such a choice must be freely made. Otherwise, we could not put our trust in you. But sometimes a man needs to choose who his people will be. I was born in the steppes clan, and I fought against my own kind again and again. But many years ago, I chose Akkad and its people to be my kin and family.”

Sabatu sensed the understanding behind the King’s words.

“But Sabatu, I want you to think on this. If you saw the man who put your family to death walking in the lane, what would you do? Would you attack him, even if it meant the loss of your own life? Or would you let him pass by, unaware of your presence? That may be the choice that you face.”

“King Eskkar, I don’t. .”

“There is no need to say anything now, Sabatu. Go. Decide what you want to do. In the morning, tell Daro of your decision.”

Surprised at the abrupt dismissal, Sabatu stood. He’d expected more entreaties or threats or promises of gold for his service. But this King offered nothing, merely a chance to serve and become one of his people.

Once again Sabatu bowed low, and then turned and left the chamber. On the landing, he looked down and saw Daro lounging in a chair with his legs sprawled, waiting for him.

The King of Akkad had spoken the truth. The time for a decision had indeed arrived. Sabatu knew he would sleep little tonight.

Sabatu and Daro strolled through Akkad’s lanes, moving at a slow pace as almost everyone they encountered seemed to know Daro and wanted to have a few words with him. They visited the marketplace and the docks, stopped by the site of the new temple being built for the goddess Ishtar, and even paused at the soldiers’ barracks.

While there Daro led the way behind the rambling structures, to an open space where the soldiers trained or practiced with their weapons. A small area served as a narrow archery range, and even this late in the day, Sabatu saw ten or twelve men using the targets.

“The barracks grew too large and crowded, so they moved the regular archery range across the river. This one is used mainly by the instructors to test new bows and shafts, or for any soldiers needing extra work.”

One master bowman functioned as range master, offering guidance or help to anyone who needed it. He made sure that everyone put aside their bows before walking down to examine their targets. The man nodded to Daro, but kept his eyes on the archers.

Sabatu understood. Accidents happened often enough, and a moment’s carelessness might mean someone’s misfortune.

Daro insisted on launching a few arrows at the small archery range. “It’s been days since I pulled a bow.” He selected a new bow from the testing table, strung the weapon, and collected a handful of target arrows. Taking his stance, Daro launched the first arrow toward the target.

Sabatu stood beside Daro, and found himself impressed despite his own experiences with the bow. Daro proved himself a fine bowman, and the heavy Akkadian arrows struck with a powerful force. The typical Akkadian bow stood a hand’s length longer than the bows used by Elam’s archers, and appeared thicker as well.

“Most of the wood comes from the far north,” Daro explained. “Mitrac, he commands all of Akkad’s archers, told King Eskkar about the famous trees of the northern forest. Mitrac’s kin returned home after they settled their blood feud with the barbarians. But since we fought together, Mitrac’s family established a steady trade with Akkad for the select wood. Very rare and expensive, of course, but the bows constructed from the heartwood of the steppes last far longer, and keep their power.”

By now Sabatu had heard most of the tales of the mighty Akkadian archers, and those, too, he had discounted. But after seeing Daro bend a bow, not to mention the obvious pleasure the man took in his craft, Sabatu revised his ideas. When the range master proclaimed a halt, Daro reluctantly lowered the weapon.

“Can I try your bow?” The words slipped from Sabatu’s mouth almost without thought.

Daro’s eyes widened. “If you think you can draw it. .” He extended the weapon toward Sabatu, then pulled it back. “Wait here a moment. I have an idea.”

He turned and trotted over to the archer’s shed, a flimsy wooden structure that held extra bows, strings, target shafts, wrist guards, and the rest of the items needed for any bowman. After a quick discussion with the boy tending the weapons, Daro strode back to his companion.

“Here, try this one.” Daro handed Sabatu a smaller, sharply curved bow. “This is a little smaller than those that Hathor’s cavalry use, but at close range, it’s just as deadly.”

Sabatu accepted the weapon. Holding it up, he examined its length, and found it similar to those used by some of Elam’s soldiers. With difficulty, he managed to grasp the bow with his left hand. His stiff fingers resisted, but he ignored the pain in his thumb. Daro handed him a target shaft.

However without full use of his thumb, fitting the arrow to the bowstring proved a challenge. Sabatu felt his frustration rise, but before he could react, Daro moved to his side.

“Let me do that.” He nocked the shaft to the string.

Once again, Sabatu struggled, trying to draw the weapon without losing his grip on the arrow or bowstring. Once, twice, his fingers slipped from the shaft. He grit his teeth, and tried again, this time using all of his fingers behind the string. The bow bent, and Sabatu realized how weak his arm had become.

The other bowmen on the range had stopped their practice and their talking. Every man watched Sabatu’s struggle. Aware of their eyes, Sabatu ignored the ache in his hands. Using all his strength, he drew the arrow back until his fingers brushed his cheek, aiming at the butt. Then he loosed the missile.

The shaft flew through the air. At the barrack’s small range, the targets were only thirty paces away from the shooting line. Sabatu’s shaft struck the bale of straw well below the target, the flight just high enough to avoid landing in the dirt.

Nevertheless, a cheer went up, and every man on the line gave a shout of approval or offered a word of encouragement. Each archer understood the pain that Sabatu must feel, what he must endure, and so they rejoiced in his success. After all, the power of the gods flowed through bow and string to the shaft. How else to explain the magical power of the weapon that could slay a man at a hundred paces?

Daro, a big grin on his face, smacked Sabatu on the back so hard that he nearly dropped the bow. “Well done! A fine shot!”

Sabatu had to pry the fingers of his left hand from the grip of the bow, but he managed a smile. “Not much of a bowman.” He handed the weapon back to Daro.

“Not today,” Daro agreed. “Not today, but tomorrow and the day after, who knows?” He handed the cavalry bow to the range master, and swept his long arm around Sabatu’s shoulders. “I think it’s time we get something to eat.” They resumed their walk, leaving the barracks area and heading back toward the center of the city.

The sun had turned to dusk, and Sabatu felt the stirrings of his appetite, as if launching a single arrow had taxed his strength.

“Tonight I’ve something special planned for you,” Daro said, as he guided Sabatu down the lane. “Since this may be your last night in Akkad, I thought you should at least enjoy yourself.”

“As long as the food is good, I’ll be more than satisfied.”

Daro led the way into the more exclusive part of Akkad, where the houses stood taller and the outer walls higher.

“This is Zenobia’s,” Daro said, as they approached one particularly impressive home. “Here you can sample the finest food in Akkad, along with its most beautiful and skilled women. Only the well-off can afford to visit her house. Fortunately, as a commander in the Hawk Clan, I am allowed an occasional visit.” He grinned at his companion. “They say Zenobia came from the Indus all the way to Akkad, just to favor us with her gifts.”

Sabatu tried to protest, but Daro ignored him. They passed through the guarded red gate, and found themselves in a lush and carefully cultivated garden. Far nicer than the few plants that the King’s Compound boasted, the carefully tended flowers yielded a pleasant perfume that scented the air. The structure’s outer walls shone in the setting sun, no doubt from a fresh coat of whitewash.

A tall woman with blond hair that reached below her waist waited at the door, and welcomed Daro by name, though her smile for Sabatu was just as warm. She escorted them into the main house, where the enticing smells of roasting meat permeated the air, overpowering the more delicate scents worn by their guide.

Sabatu saw the main room held five good sized tables, and though the evening had scarcely begun, four of them were occupied. Women dressed in light brown dresses cut low across the bosom served the seated men, often kneeling on the floor as they offered tidbits of food to their guests.

But Daro headed straight for the wide stairs that led to the upper chamber. “Upstairs are the most expensive rooms and the most skilled girls. I sent a messenger this morning, telling Zenobia that we would be coming.”

Another guard stood at the base of the steps, but he nodded respectfully to Daro as they went up. At the top, another woman, this one will thick dark hair and ochre stain around her eyes, held out her arms and clasped Daro around the neck.

“Daro! It’s been years since you’ve visited Zenobia’s,” she said. “I thought you had forgotten all about your favorites.”

“What man could forget a night of pleasure with you, Te-ara. Even Zenobia says you are the most skilled courtesan in Akkad.”

Te-ara laughed, a long musical sound that brought a smile even to Sabatu’s lips. “She says that about all her girls.” She favored Sabatu with another smile. “And who is this handsome man who I have never seen before? Is this a special occasion for him?”

“Yes, one that requires the finest your House can offer. My friend Sabatu is a stranger to Akkad, and is recovering from his wounds. He may be leaving Akkad soon, and I wanted to give him one last night of pleasure. So don’t tempt me with your charms, save them all for my friend. Just ignore his protests.”

Sabatu did protest, but to no avail. Te-ara put her arm around his waist and rubbed her breast against his arm. “Then we will do everything in our power to entertain the honorable Sabatu.” She moved her lips to his cheek, and let them brush his ear.

Te-ara guided Sabatu down the hall and into a room. It contained a massive bed, one big enough for four people to sleep comfortably. A copper-colored blanket covered its surface, and three bright red pillows rested at the head.

“Take your ease, Sabatu,” Te-ara said. “I’ll be back with food and wine.”

She favored him with another smile and slipped from the room.

Daro lay down on the bed with a long sigh of relaxation, and clasped his hands behind his head. “Zenobia’s cooks are the best in Akkad. And the wine. . ah! Even Lady Trella’s table can’t match their quality. Some people claim that Zenobia adds a few drops of a secret love potion.”

Sabatu remained standing. “Daro, this is not something I want to do. I feel no urge for a woman. Even if I did, my body is too weak. . the scars.”

“Just lie down for a moment. You don’t have to do anything. But let us share one last meal together, as friends. Is that so much to ask?”

Before Sabatu could reply, two girls rushed into the room. One struggled with a large tray that held three pitchers and two cups. The second girl carried a platter that displayed bread, oil, dates, and Akkad’s famous sweet cakes. She climbed onto the bed beside Daro, set the platter down, and pulled off her dress, revealing firm breasts that glistened in the light of the room’s two candles.

“My name is Ducina, and I am for you, Sabatu.” She reached out and clasped his hand, and tugged him toward the bed.

“You’d better give in, Sabatu,” Daro said. “The girls get nothing to eat and earn no pay unless their customers are completely satisfied.”

“Yes, and I don’t want to have to whip their bottoms again,” Te-ara said, sweeping back into the chamber. “They enjoy it too much.” She guided a suddenly helpless Sabatu closer to the bed, pulled off her own garment, and jumped onto the mattress. She pulled Sabatu down onto a pillow, and popped a sweet cake into his mouth.

“Let’s start with these,” Te-ara said. “Then Ducina has other delicacies to tempt your lips.”

Daro laughed, a contented sound that filled the room. He reached for a wine cup. “Yes, there are always many delights to taste at Zenobia’s.”

The bright morning sun streaming through the tiny window woke Sabatu. His head hurt from too much wine and not enough sleep, and when he lifted it from the pillow, he found himself still at Zenobia’s. Ducina lay curled up along his right side, like a kitten, sleeping soundly. On his left, Te-ara lay clinging to his arm, her long hair scattered across his chest.

Trapped between them, Sabatu struggled to remember all the events of the evening. Despite his protests, the women had soon removed his garment, even as they kept offering food and wine. Unable to resist, he had drained one cup of wine, then another. Before long, Ducina was kneeling between his legs, sucking on his manhood with an energy that overwhelmed Sabatu.

But it was Te-ara who first mounted his rod, and she rode him with more skill than anything Sabatu had experienced in Elam. With Ducina’s breast in his mouth, he soon burst inside Te-ara. When she finally let him go, he lay there, as exhausted as if he’d mounted her and ridden her for half a night.

The girls scarcely noticed. They kept feeding him and refilling his wine cup even as they worked on his manhood without ceasing. This morning Sabatu could not even remember how many times he spent his seed.

Glancing around, Sabatu saw no sign of Daro, and didn’t even remember the man leaving. The two women, with the help from a few others who stopped in Sabatu’s chamber, had drained him completely even as they erased, at least for a brief time, the pain that burned in his heart.

Now the memories returned. His wife, his children, his family, all dead, their broken and bloody bodies dumped into the river. Nothing of Sabatu’s life remained. His very existence, his place in Elam’s society, had been ripped out by the roots.

The intense feelings of sorrow, humiliation, and defeat that had swept over him when Chaiyanar’s soldiers first tied him to the stake in the marketplace still remained. In fact, they burned as brightly as before, but the gloom and despair had transformed into an urge to take revenge on Chaiyanar.

Perhaps Daro was right. Perhaps something could be done, some way that Sabatu could strike a real blow against the man who tortured and murdered his wife and children. Any blow, even the slightest, would bring some relief to the spirits of his family, and to Sabatu’s own sense of honor.

With as much care as he could manage, Sabatu sat up in the bed, slipping from the embrace of the women. Neither one woke, despite his clumsy efforts to climb down off the bed. No doubt the women at Zenobia’s slept long in the morning, to make up for their hard work at night.

At last he got to his feet. Sabatu found his tunic and sandals piled neatly on a stool in the corner of the room. When he lifted the garment, he saw that someone had attached a sheathed knife to his belt. A parting gift from Daro no doubt, who understood the importance of a weapon to any soldier, even one who could not yet use it properly.

It took extra moments to dress, his maimed hands still refusing to work properly. But at last he finished. He stared down at the two naked women, both sleeping soundly. Even in repose, their beauty made him catch his breath. Sabatu had no coins, nothing to leave them for his long night of pleasure. They had asked for no payment. Te-ara had lavished her finest efforts on him at Daro’s simple suggestion. He hoped they would not think less of him.

Sabatu sighed. Perhaps one day he would return to this place, and enjoy again the company of Te-ara and Ducina.

He left the chamber, went down the steps, and out into the courtyard. Sabatu saw a few yawning servants moving about, before he passed by the guard still at the door. The bright sun, reflected off the spotless wall, made it difficult to see. Sabatu moved into the shade of the portico, until his eyes adjusted.

His thoughts returned to King Eskkar. He and Daro had both delivered the same message, without once speaking the words. A man could lose everything in his life, and still be a man as long as he kept his honor. And honor demanded that Sabatu avenge his family’s destruction, by any means, and no matter what the cost. Otherwise his whole life was wasted, his name deservedly forgotten.

In the end, the only thing that really counted was how a man lived, and how he died. Life was, after all, only a prelude to death, and no warrior should fear to die. Death is only one of the possible consequences of a man’s actions, neither valued nor feared above any other. Death is merely a release from a man’s obligations.

Last night, Te-ara and Ducina had shown Sabatu that life still went on, and that he was yet a man. Suddenly he remembered how Daro’s bow had felt in his hand yesterday, the power that had flowed from his arm to the shaft. Perhaps in time, Sabatu would be able to once again harness that power. And if he could guide an arrow to its mark, he could still fight. For the first time since he arrived in Akkad, Sabatu straightened his shoulders and lifted his head high.

His thoughts turned to his meeting with King Eskkar yesterday. A plain man, without pretensions. Perhaps there was more to being a king than a gilded throne or golden statues.

In that moment, Sabatu made his decision. He would fight against those who had destroyed his life, killed his family, and sentenced him to death. Perhaps with Akkad’s help, he could strike some small blow against his enemies. Perhaps someday, maybe he, too, would find and embrace a new family.

Most of all, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, ruler of the city of Sushan, and loyal servant of the King of Elam, needed to be reminded that Sabatu still lived, still fought, and would one day take his revenge. That would be the price Sabatu would require from King Eskkar — the chance to destroy the man who murdered his family.