Empire Rising (74 page)

“Better than he did when he got back,” Gatus said. “The look on his face could’ve shattered stones. You’d think killing Ariamus would have cheered him up.”

Eskkar knew the story about Annok-sur, and the gods only knew what other deviltry Ariamus had done under Korthac’s protection.

“And the wounded?” Eskkar glanced around the courtyard. The soldiers’ quarters held most of the wounded, with others put up in nearby houses. Even now, more than a half-dozen bandaged men rested in the courtyard, most of them watching Eskkar.

“Ventor’s with them now,” Gatus said. “Got here a few moments ago.

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He’ll do what he can. Some are going to die. Those Egyptians were tough fi ghters.”

“Korthac trained his killers well,” Eskkar said, thinking that if the Egyptians were half as skillful as their master, they would indeed have made formidable fighters.

“Only one thing left to do,” Gatus said, as he fi nished reporting. “And here they come,” he added, the distaste sounding in his voice.

Eskkar looked up to see Corio and Rebba enter the courtyard. Corio’s right arm hung in a sling, and a large bruise covered the left side of his face. Rebba looked old and tired, but had a warm smile for everyone.

“Good morning, Lord Eskkar,” Corio said, speaking first and in a loud voice. “Once again, let me offer praise to the gods for your return. You were sorely missed.”

“The gods favored us, Noble Corio,” he answered, smiling at the architect’s obviously insincere words. Corio believed in the gods about as much as Eskkar did.

“We’ve come for the usurper Korthac,” Rebba said. “We’ve been meeting at Nicar’s house with the other nobles. Nicar is still unable to get about, but he sends his thanks and his greetings, as do the others.”

“And Korthac? . . .” Eskkar looked at Rebba.

“Unless you want the pleasure of killing him yourself,” Corio said,

“he’s to die under the torture in the marketplace, to pay for his crimes against all of us.”

The nobles and rich merchants had suffered greatly in the last few days, Eskkar knew, and they’d lost most of whatever gold they had hoarded.

Fortunately, Korthac had stored most of the loot right here in the house.

Still, it would take weeks to sort it all out, and this time Eskkar would have to arbitrate the distribution. “Take Korthac whenever you want,” he said, nodding toward the guards watching the Egyptian.

“Also, we need your soldiers to arrest the others,” Corio interrupted, “the men who joined up with Korthac, who willingly took part in his schemes.”

“And what’s to become of them?”

“They’re to die with their leader, curse them all,” Corio answered.

“They deserve to take the torture, but I’ll be satisfied just to see them all dead.”

Eskkar had never seen the master builder in such a bloodthirsty mood.

“And Nicar, and you, Rebba, you all agree to this?”

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Rebba nodded. “We spent most of yesterday arguing over their fates.

Five are to die, their property confiscated. Another seven will have their property taken, and then be exiled from Akkad.”

More blood to be shed, Eskkar thought. For this decision, however, there was no urgency. “Gatus, have your men take these . . . twelve men prisoner.

Send them down to the barracks and tell Bantor to guard them well.”

He turned to Corio. “In a few days, when Trella is well enough, we’ll review the charges against these men.”

Both men started to protest, but Eskkar cut them off. “There’s no need to rush their punishment. Better to let them worry about their fate, while we make sure each one gets exactly what he deserves. Remember, Trella was here, and she heard every word Korthac said. She’ll know who merits what punishment.”

Eskkar stood and faced Gatus, who’d remained expressionless during the discussion. “Round up those twelve. Then take charge of Korthac and make sure he gets to the marketplace. The sooner he begins his journey to the underworld, the better.”

“What about the other one, that Hathor?”

“Him, too,” Eskkar said. “All the Egyptians deserve the torture.”

Gatus stood as well. “Let’s go, Corio. The sooner we catch up with the men on your list, the happier we’ll both be.”

Eskkar left the table and walked over to check on Korthac. The man looked even worse today than he had yesterday. Korthac glared at him, but said nothing. Eskkar glanced in on Hathor, but had nothing to say to the Egyptian subcommander. He didn’t know the man, and hadn’t encountered him during the fight. But he’d fled with Ariamus, and that alone was enough to condemn him.

As he turned away from Hathor, Mitrac and a few others from the Hawk Clan entered the courtyard. They surrounded Eskkar, eager for news and equally eager to tell him what they’d accomplished. Eskkar spoke with them for some time, answering questions, laughing, and listening to the latest rumors from the streets.

They left him, still laughing, proud men who knew they’d won a great victory. Ignoring the other activity around him, Eskkar washed himself at the well, then visited the kitchen to find something more to eat. His appetite had returned, a good sign, he knew. He leaned against the wall, out of the way of the cook, and munched on some bread and sausage, enjoying the idle moment.

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“Lord, Lady Trella asks for you.”

He turned to see Drusala bowing to him. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes, lord, but she asked if you could attend her.”

Wiping his fingers on his tunic, he climbed the stairs, Drusala following behind. But she stopped at the landing, and shut the door as soon as he passed through. Surprised, Eskkar crossed the empty workroom and entered the bedroom.

Annok-sur waited there, along with another woman, a young girl, really, her plain face marred by a broken nose. Eskkar had to stare at her for a moment before he recognized her, the girl Trella had rescued and brought to the house a few days before he’d left for Bisitun.

Trella sat up in the bed, the baby asleep beside her. “Eskkar, we have a favor to ask of you, a very great favor.” She kept her voice soft, so as not to waken the child.

Trella’s use of “we” warned him something unusual was coming. He looked closer at the girl, struggling to remember her name.

“This is En-hedu,” Trella went on, “soon to be wife to Tammuz. At least, as soon as we set her free from her servitude.”

En-hedu bowed deeply to him, but said nothing. When she lifted her head, he saw the worry in her face.

“Tammuz . . . Gatus told me he’d taken a woman.”

“I gave En-hedu to Tammuz more than a month ago. She’s been helping him all that time. They both risked their lives, trying to learn more about Korthac. They helped hide Gatus, and she and Tammuz both fought in the battle against Korthac.”

“Then you have my thanks, En-hedu,” Eskkar said, bowing his head to her.

“I will tell you all about it later, husband,” Trella said, “but for now, En-hedu wishes to ask a favor.”

En-hedu bowed again, her hands clenched together nervously. “Lord, please, can you spare the life of the Egyptian Hathor? He saved my life and the life of Tammuz as well. We would both be dead if he hadn’t spared us.”

“Hathor is to die with Korthac,” Eskkar said, shock and surprise in his voice. “He was one of Korthac’s subcommanders . . . he escaped with Ariamus.”

“Hathor came from the desert with Korthac, it’s true,” Annok-sur said.

“But I didn’t see him kill or do injury to anyone here in Akkad.”

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“Please, lord,” En-hedu rushed the words, “his men would have killed Tammuz and myself. Hathor stayed his hand against us. Can you not spare his life for that?”

“What does Tammuz say?” Eskkar asked. “Does he want this man to live?”

“Yes, Lord Eskkar,” En-hedu said, “but he will not ask for Hathor’s life.

He is too loyal to you and Lady Trella.”

“In serving Korthac, who knows how many evil deeds Hathor may have accomplished in the past. He may have . . .”

Trella dropped her eyes, and Eskkar’s voice trailed off. Without saying anything, she reminded him of another who had done things in the past, things better forgotten.

“No one has accused Hathor of evil deeds,” Annok-sur said, filling in the silence.

“Not yet,” Eskkar countered. “Today, in the marketplace, I’m sure many will come forth to confront him.” He shook his head. “Still, I have no quarrel with him. He can spend the rest of his days as a slave, working on the wall.”

“When Korthac amused himself at my expense,” Trella said, “Hathor was the only one who looked away. He did not take pleasure in my suffering.”

Her words told him she wanted Hathor to live, and not as a slave.

“Perhaps there is another way,” Trella continued. “Perhaps you can make use of him.”

“Use him?”

“You always say how you look for men who can command. Hathor is one such. Even Korthac thought so. With Korthac gone and the rest of the Egyptians dead, Hathor has no one else to turn to. In Akkad, every man’s hand will be against him. Such a man might prove useful to you, Eskkar, if you held his loyalty.”

Eskkar looked from one woman to the other. Annok-sur nodded slightly, to show her approval; En-hedu’s lip trembled as she watched him, as if fearful of an outburst of anger.

Trella stroked little Sargon, tracing his cheek with her finger for a moment, then lifting her eyes to Eskkar’s. “It is something to think about, husband. There is no rush to put him to death.”

As always, she gave him time to make up his mind, to think things through in his own way.

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“I’ll consider it,” he answered. “Is there anything else?”

“No, nothing. You’ll do what’s best.”

The words sounded humble, but he caught the gleam in her eye.

“But perhaps it would be good to speak to him yourself,” Trella added.

“Can you have him brought here?”

“Up here? Now?” He regretted the words the moment he uttered them. He knew Trella too well. Once she made up her mind, she always acted quickly.

“I can have him brought up, Lord Eskkar,” Annok-sur offered.

Now Bantor’s wife was calling him “lord.”

“No, I’ll bring him.” Eskkar needed the time to think, and he certainly wasn’t going to win any arguments here, not with the three of them united against him. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, wondering what they would say with him gone.

In the courtyard, the command table stood empty. He knew Gatus had gone with the council members to gather up the traitors.

Eskkar walked over to the guards. He nodded to the one watching Hathor, and ducked his head as he entered inside.

Hathor looked up when he entered, but said nothing.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are Lord Eskkar. I saw you yesterday when I was brought here.”

The man spoke with a strong accent, but Eskkar had no difficulty understanding his words.

“Are you ready to die, Hathor?”

“As ready as any man, lord.” He pushed himself up a little straighter against the wall. “I would have killed myself rather than been captured, but your men took me before I could fall on my sword.”

Eskkar grunted at that news. So this all could have been avoided if Bantor’s men hadn’t been so efficient. He stared at Hathor. Despite the Egyptian’s strong words, Eskkar saw the trembling in his hands that betrayed his fear. No man wants to die alone, surrounded by enemies and strangers. A warrior expected to die in battle, often looked forward to it; better to end that way than a lingering death from illness or old age, alone, perhaps begging in the streets.

Another long-forgotten memory returned, of a time many years ago when Eskkar had sat bound and bloody against a cave wall, death pricking the skin at his throat, afraid, yet too proud to beg for his life, while a group of women decided his fate. Women had spared him then, and now women 444

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wanted him to spare this man. Perhaps Eskkar owed the gods a debt, one that must be repaid. Ishtar, the earth goddess, was a woman, after all.

“Guard, get some water for the prisoner.” Eskkar used the time to think.

The guard returned with a skin filled with water. Eskkar took it from his hands, cursing at the old memories; he should feel hate for the Egyptian, not pity. He handed the skin to the surprised Hathor and let him drink his fill, much of the water dribbling down his chest as the man held the skin clumsily with his bound hands.

Eskkar turned to the guard, still standing in the doorway. “Bring him to the workroom. And wash the blood from his hands and face first.”

Ignoring the soldier’s surprised look, Eskkar returned to the upper rooms. He sat down at the big table and waited. Annok-sur summoned Drusala to watch the baby; the midwife closed the door to the inner room after Trella and En-hedu joined Eskkar in the workroom. The two women guided Trella to the seat beside her husband, then stood behind her.

It took two men to bring Hathor up the stairs, and by the time he stood in front of Eskkar, a sheen of perspiration covered his face. At least they’d cleaned most of the blood off.

“Put him on the stool,” Eskkar ordered, “then leave us.”

“Lord, one of us should stay, in case . . .”

“I’ll watch him myself,” Eskkar cut the man off. He stood up and moved to the other side of the table, then sat on the corner, between Hathor and the women, fingering the knife on his belt.

Trella waited until the guards had left, closing the door behind them.

“Do you remember me?” Her voice once again held the power of command, no matter how weak she might feel.

Hathor nodded, his eyes darting from husband to wife.

“Tell me of Korthac,” Trella said. “Tell me what he did in Egypt.”

The question caught Hathor by surprise. “Why do you wish . . . to know about Korthac?”

“It cannot matter now to answer my questions.” Trella kept her voice even, a polite request to a guest.

Eskkar said nothing, just stared at the man. If Hathor refused to speak, he would go to the marketplace and suffer with his leader.