The Philistine Warrior (47 page)

Egypt
.” (He’d slipped into the royal “we.”) “Our government,” he went on, “received a letter from Pharaoh’s High Priest, a man named Amenhotep, who speaks for Pharaoh from his new position as Grand Vizier. He wishes to discuss trade—”

Suddenly, Delai blurted out: “Sire!” Then she stopped short and blushed. Ibbi and I—and Tiglath’s Vizier—we all gasped at her
faux
pas
—her interruption of the Emperor!

“Don’t be afraid to speak up, my dear,” Tiglath told her, and I knew at once that, not only was he treating us with informality, but that he was as captivated by Delai’s beauty and charm as everyone else in her life (I told myself with pride…and relief).

Delai accepted his invitation at face value. “Sire, don’t trust Amenhotep! He’s a terrible man. He’s secretly—no, openly—been plotting to seize the throne from Ramses, and he behaves in all sorts of treacherous ways. If he’s now called Grand Vizier, it must be because he’s winning his struggle with Pharaoh. My first husband was a general in Pharaoh’s Army, Sire, and Amenhotep planted a
spy
right in my own household!”

To us, Delai was a queen; but to the Assyrians, she might not be much more than a girl—and a refugee at that—whose “spunk” would get her in trouble some day. Yet Tiglath not merely tolerated her outburst, he seemed immensely pleased: “Well, Vizier,” he said, “we must look into this—and be on our guard.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Vizier replied—but I suspect his Secret Service already knew all about Amenhotep and his intrigues.

“Are you Egyptian, then?” Tiglath asked Delai.

“No, Sire, I’m Philistine, and so was my first husband; but he was in Pharaoh’s service.”

“Your Majesty may have heard of him,” I remarked. “Melek Ekosh was a mighty warrior in
Egypt
, although he had our throne only for a little while.”

The Emperor did not appear to recognize the name. His Grand Vizier advised: “Your Majesty, King Ekosh was the man who was assassinated by the Danites last year.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Tiglath replied. “Now I recall. I was away when it happened, up in Urartu country—endless campaigning

there, you know. Well, anyway, we have your future to discuss.” He had slipped back into the first person plural. “You’ll want employment, we assume. There are many vacancies in our Army for good charioteers—and I’m told that you’re one of those….” He looked at me, one warrior to another—and had slipped back into the first person singular again!

“Sire, I’ve commanded a full regiment of chariots in battle,” I answered with pride. “Perhaps Your Majesty has heard of the Battle of Mareshah?”

He knitted his brows: “No, the term doesn’t sound familiar to me,” he confessed. He turned to his Vizier, who also shook his head no. Something told me not to pursue the matter any further, unless asked. The Emperor continued: “I can offer you a field command, if that’s what you want.” He paused.

Delai and I had talked over this matter before, and I could speak for the two of us: “Sire, if I may ask a favor: my wife and I have experienced much sorrow and turmoil in our native land; her health is still on the mend; and we’ve just been married. Most of all, we don’t want publicity—because, as Your Majesty knows, we
are
exiles, and we have reason to believe that our lives, and the lives of our future children, might be in danger if our whereabouts become known—because the present Melek of Philistia apparently fears a certain prophecy…according to which, his sons might be displaced by my offspring. So I wonder if it would be possible for Your Majesty to assign me to some administrative post, training perhaps, where we can live a settled life away from the limelight—and under assumed names—at least for a while?”

He smiled: an old soldier, he knew what it was to yearn for the joys of family life and a peaceful posting.

His Grand Vizier advised him again: “Sire, there’s our training base at
Calah
. We need a chariot commander there, and the job would not entail traveling or campaigning, unless in some sort of emergency. Lord Phicol could drill our charioteer recruits there….”

“Very good,” Tiglath said, cheerily. “The position carries the rank of lieutenant colonel, but you’ll have an opportunity to work with chariots; the rank is low, to be sure—but you just said that you

want anonymity; also, I promise that you’ll be treated by everyone with the respect due to you as a nobleman, though without so much fuss as to call attention to you to an unacceptable degree, given your desire for anonymity. Does that sound like a good posting?”

I didn’t need any time at all to consider: “I accept with pride and joy, Sire. It’s just what I had in mind!”

Then Delai spoke up again: “Your Majesty, you may be aware that I’m a priestess of Ishtar-Astarte, and I hope that I can carry on with my religious duties here in
Assyria
….?”

“Do you wish to serve in a temple, my dear?” the Emperor asked. She told him yes, and he looked to his Grand Vizier.

The man answered, “Easily arranged, Your Majesty.
Calah
has a
temple
of
Ishtar
.” Then, to Delai: “Also, you’ll have easy access to Ashur by boat on the
Tigris
; so you can have a taste of real city life here, now and then; contributing to the worship of the Goddess here in Ashur, I mean. I expect that Priest Ibbi will find useful work in the temples of
Calah
and Ashur as well—if you plan on remaining in your Queen’s service, Ibbi?”

“Yes, Excellency,” Ibbi replied. “I am Her Majesty’s doctor and priest; I will stay with them and find employment in the temples of
Calah
and nearby—and in Ashur, for that matter. I hope your priests won’t object to the fact that both Her Majesty and I are devotees of a…an…ancient Chaldean cult of the Goddess—or to the fact that we are both foreigners….”

Delai laughed: “Ibbi, please—I am no longer ‘Her Majesty.’ We must learn to live in anonymity, after all.”

“In private,” Ibbi noted, “you will remain ‘Your Majesty.’”

The Grand Vizier commented: “Religious toleration is our principle here in
Assyria
; and we have many nationalities in His Majesty’s Empire.

Tiglath rose from his seat. “Then it’s all settled. Welcome to
Assyria
, my friends. We’ll meet again from time to time, but right now I have many things to attend to. Vizier, you’ll see to every detail?”

“Very good, Sire,” the Vizier answered, and Tiglath-Pileser left the room. We all bowed, now with affection as well as respect.

Then we went to have breakfast with the Grand Vizier; and we ate very well indeed.

And so we settled down. The army post near
Calah
was in a quiet, rural area, not far from some beautiful mountains. We avoided publicity, and convinced ourselves that Zaggi hadn’t learned of our hideaway. At any rate, he wouldn’t dare offend the Emperor by attempting to threaten us, even if he wanted to do so—and he had less reason to do so, now that I’d sent back the Sheren’s insignia.

My duties at
Calah
included training soldiers and running the chariot portion of the base, reporting to the base commander, a

brigadier general. Ironically, my rank—lieutenant colonel—was the same as the last rank I’d held in Askelon before becoming Sheren.

Calah
was a large establishment, with infantry barracks and many chariot barns. The walls were such as to make it a strong point, but we were far from any hostile territory. In short, my posting was routine enough to allow for relaxation, but challenging enough to keep me occupied and interested. It was a paradise, so far as we were concerned.

Delai adjusted very well to the humdrum round of activities common to the wives of army officers all over the world. And she kept busy with her devotional and intellectual exercises in the cult of Inanna. Ibbi remained with us, as he had promised, and became associated with the temples of Ishtar in
Calah
and Ashur. Our household was a bit more elaborate than most men of my rank enjoyed, but in general we lived a simple life.

I can best illustrate our role in Assyrian society by recounting what Delai told me about a luncheon she attended, not long after we arrived on post. This affair was put on by the wife of the provincial governor; wives of all the high-ranking officers in the district had been invited. Delai sat next to the Governor’s wife, a large woman who’d obviously spent a lifetime giving and attending parties for officers’ ladies.

She engaged Delai in lively conversation, asking now and then about our background. Delai was rather embarrassed, but managed to evade the lady’s questions—because, of course, we were trying to conceal our identity.

Finally, the grand dame said: “You
are
marvelous, my dear! You haven’t betrayed a thing! So, I won’t probe any more, I promise. But we do know
something
about you and your Colonel. When you first arrived, the General told me—”

“The General?” Delai asked.

“My husband, the General,” she replied. “He said, no less a person than the Grand Vizier himself called together
all
of the top officials of this province. They met at the General’s headquarters. The Grand Vizier told them about you. Oh, yes! He said you’re both

exiles, and therefore he couldn’t reveal where you came from, or even your real names. But he made it clear that you and your Colonel are of
considerable
nobility, and must be treated well, though not so extravagantly as to call attention to you. I think it’s so
romantic
! And ever since, we’ve all been speculating about you, and trying to place your accent. I know you can’t admit anything, but I suspect that you’re from somewhere in the west—from
Tyre
, perhaps?”

Delai neither confirmed nor denied the lady’s guess, of course, and I was amused by her story when she told it to me over dinner that evening—and I was glad that Delai had real work to do in her temples, and didn’t have to spend all of her time at luncheons and other such gatherings.

Upon later reflection, however, I wondered: how long can our identity remain a secret, given even the small amount of curiousity we’ve aroused by simply being here? Surely Zaggi, if he really wants to find us, can do so—I knew he had a network of spies all over the nations neighboring on
Philistia
, even as far as
Assyria
. How safe were we? Well, I knew that Tiglath also had a secret service, and they must be keeping tabs on spies from every kingdom in our corner of the world; and, likely, Tiglath had charged his own Secret Service with making sure Delai and I remained unmolested.