Quest for Honour (14 page)

“You think this will be a long war, then?” Trella asked.

“I think the lands of Sumeria have many more people than they can sustain,” Nicar said. “So yes, even if Eskkar drives off Eridu’s soldiers, the Sumerians will return. If not this year, then the following year or the one after that.”

“I agree, Lady Trella,” Yavtar said. “Gemama implied as much.”

“Let them come.” Bantor rapped his fist on the table. “Each time they do, we’ll drive them off.”

“First we’d better see what news Eskkar brings us,” Gatus said.

“I agree,” Trella said. “We’ll know more when Eskkar returns. Then
we’ll decide what to do about this new threat.” She glanced around the table, but no one had anything more to add. Trella stood, signifying the end of the meeting. “Yavtar, all of us give thanks to you for bringing us this information.”

One by one, the men left, until only Annok-sur and Trella remained in the workroom.

“You said nothing during the meeting,” Trella said.

“What was there to say?” Annok-sur put her arm around Trella’s shoulders for a moment. “After two years of peace, war is returning to Akkad. This time it will be a different kind of war, and I think a long one. I only hope that Eskkar returns safely, and that he knows what to do.”

“As do I,” Trella said. “He understands very well why and how men fight.”

“Perhaps. But these are not barbarians or bandits. His experiences as a warrior may not help him as much in the coming battles.”

“Perhaps,” Trella said. “But meanwhile, there is much that you and I can do, and I think we should begin by making our own plans for the possibility of war. Whatever unseen path the future takes, we’ll need to be ready. I think there is going to be much more to winning this kind of conflict than just victory in battle. Our husbands will think only of winning the next fight, and the next one after that. We need to find a way to win the war, so that Akkad can remain at peace for many more years.”

“The first step should be to send more spies – as many as we can – to Sumeria, to learn what they can about our enemies. We’ve relied too much on traders and merchants bringing us word of what they’ve seen.”

“Yes, we can start with that.” Trella turned to her advisor. “But much more needs to be done, and we’ll need to start as soon as Eskkar returns.”

“Let’s hope Eskkar’s battle went well, both for our own sakes and for Akkad.”

“Yes.” Trella’s thoughts went to her headstrong husband. Accomplished warrior he might be, but even now Eskkar could be dead, lying face-down on some unknown battlefield. She and her son might find themselves exposed to any number of threats, their future destroyed. The sooner he returned, the easier she would feel. And the next time Eskkar went into battle, Trella resolved to provide him with every advantage she could.

T
hat night, well after dusk, Eskkar rode up to Akkad’s main entrance. “Open the gate!” he shouted, staring up at the men guarding the walls.

At sundown each day, the guards closed the city’s gates. Those travelers who arrived afterwards usually had to camp outside for the night. Now the soldiers peered down into the gloom, and saw a band of heavily armed riders. But before they could even issue a challenge, the commander in charge of the gate arrived. A torch in hand, he leaned over the parapet. A single glance told him all he needed to know.

“Open the gate,” he ordered. “It’s the king.”

It took time to open the heavy gate, but at last the final restraining beam creaked out of its supporting brace. Eskkar, Grond, and a dozen riders cantered through. Once inside, they slowed their horses to a walk, and two Hawk Clan warriors led the way through the narrow lanes. This early in the evening, the streets and lanes held plenty of people relaxing after their day’s labor and enjoying the cool air. Everyone stopped to stare at the horsemen. Horses were rare enough in the lanes during the day, and seldom seen after dark.

“It’s Lord Eskkar.” One by one, people repeated the words. “The king has returned!”

A few cheers followed, but Eskkar ignored them, guiding his horse steadily through the press. One voice asked about the bandits.

“We won a great victory!” Grond called out, to a roar of approval from the crowd. “The bandits are destroyed!”

At last the party reached Eskkar’s house, and he swung wearily down from the sweaty horse. Grond dismissed the men, who would return to their barracks after handing the horses off to the stable boys. As soon as the soldiers washed the dust from their bodies, they would search out their favorite taverns. Soon everyone would know about the battle against King Eridu.

Inside the courtyard, Eskkar walked straight through the open ground until he reached the rear of the house. A private well provided a steady supply of fresh water for the household. He pulled up the bucket and drank deeply, careless of the water that spilled across his chest. By then servants had arrived in a rush, and one began refilling the bucket, while Eskkar stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the ground.

He washed himself as best he could, trying to remove five days of
sweat and dirt from his body, though he knew he wouldn’t really feel clean until he’d had a long swim in the Tigris. That would have to wait until the morning. With help from one of the servants, Eskkar scrubbed most of the dirt off his body, then dried himself with a large square of linen handed to him.

When he finished, he turned away from the well, to find the servants gone and Trella standing there, a clean tunic in her hand.

“Welcome home, Eskkar,” she said, handing him the fresh garment.

He pulled it on, unable to resist a sigh as the soft cloth settled around his shoulders. Without a word he took Trella in his arms and held her tight against him. Once again he breathed in the familiar scent of her hair and felt the ease that she always brought him. After holding her close for some time, he bent down and kissed her, letting himself enjoy the sweet taste of her lips. Her arms went around his neck, and she pressed herself against his chest, rising up on her toes to answer his kiss with one of her own. She held him tight until he relaxed against her.

“It’s good to be home, Trella. Is everything all right here?”

“Yes, husband. The city was quiet while you were gone. And the bandits from Sumer? Did you meet them?”

“Not bandits, but soldiers,” he growled, putting his arm around her shoulder and guiding her back toward the entrance of the house. “And King Eridu was there as well, with almost four hundred men, trying to ambush us. He nearly succeeded, too.”

“We just learned from Yavtar that the Sumerians were responsible. I wish you had stayed in Akkad, at least until we knew more about what you might face.”

They reached the open doorway to the house, but instead of entering, Eskkar took her by the hand and guided her across the courtyard. A second structure there held six good-sized rooms in a row, each with its own entrance. Four were occupied by sixteen Hawk Clan soldiers who guarded Eskkar’s house day and night. The other two were for guests who needed a place to stay.

“I’ve something to show you.”

As they approached, Grond appeared from the last doorway, ducking his head under the low opening. “Ah, Lady Trella, it’s good to see you.”

“My thanks to you once again,” she said, “for bringing my husband home safe and sound.”

“Bring out our guest,” Eskkar said.

Grond ducked back into the house and returned in a moment, half-dragging a man behind him. A hard shove, and the prisoner fell to the ground at Trella’s feet.

“And this is . . . ?”

“King Eridu of Sumer, as he now calls both himself and his city,” Eskkar answered. “He planned to lure us into a trap and kill us all, but we managed to avoid his snare and set one of our own.”

Eridu looked up at them. He appeared weak and dazed. His eyes gazed around the courtyard without comprehension.

Trella called out for someone to bring a light. Soon a servant arrived and held a crackling torch above Eridu’s head. She stared at him for a long time, studying his face, then reached out and touched his cheek with the back of her hand.

“He’s burning up with fever. And what happened to his hand?”

“I cut it off,” Eskkar said, “as punishment for trying to steal our land. I offered him a chance to fight me, but he refused, so I thought this would be a fair payment for his greed. He’s also promised to pay a ransom of eight hundred gold coins. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut off more than his hand next time.”

Trella leaned forward and inspected the burned and blackened stump. “I’ll send for the healer, to attend his wounds.”

Eskkar shrugged. “I’d let him take his chances with the gods, but I suppose his kin won’t pay for a dead man.”

He clasped Trella around the waist and turned her back toward the house. “Enough time to talk to Eridu in the morning.”

“I’ll send the healer over.” Grond lived only a few houses from Ventor, the only healer Eskkar trusted. “I’ll return in the morning, Captain.”

“I’m sure Tippu awaits your return,” Trella said. Tippu and Grond had married two years ago, and she now carried his child.

Inside the house, Eskkar and Trella mounted the stairs and entered the workroom. At night, one corner was used as a nursery for Sargon. Trella always wanted her son close by, should he need anything. A servant girl sat beside the tiny bed and its sleeping occupant. She would remain awake all night, to make sure no harm came to the boy. Too many babies died in their sleep, and Trella had no intention of letting Sargon suffer that fate.

Despite his weariness, Eskkar paused a moment to look down at his sleeping son. “Sargon seems to have grown again,” he whispered. He reached down his hand and gently touched a finger to the boy’s soft cheek.

“I doubt he’s grown much in the last fifteen days,” Trella said, keeping her voice low. “Come, let him sleep. He’ll be chasing you everywhere in the morning.”

“In the morning I’ll take him down to the river with me. He likes to splash in the water.”

They went into the bedroom, and she closed and barred the door. When she turned around, he took her in his arms and held her tight, almost crushing her against him.

“You’ve grown, too, my wife,” he said, running his hands up her arms. “You’re even more beautiful than when I left you.”

“We should talk, Eskkar. I want to know what happened. Eridu . . . how . . . ?”

“Later. And only if you please me greatly.” His hand brushed against her breast, and he felt her nipple harden at his touch.

Her eyes closed for a moment. “Perhaps you should think about pleasing me,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “Once again, you left me alone while you went off to fight.”

“Perhaps I will.” He kissed her, gently at first, then harder as his passion grew. Soon he lifted her dress up over her head, then pulled his own tunic off. “Each time I see you, I want to feel myself inside you.”

She swayed against him, and he heard her quick intake of breath. He clasped his hands around her waist, holding her tight. Eyes closed, Trella lifted her head, her lips parted. He kissed her again, this time a kiss full of passion and promise. Eskkar moved one hand to the small of her back, enjoying the curving flesh, while the other lifted to cup her breast, squeezing it gently until she gasped in pleasure.

“I missed you, Eskkar.”

“I promise to make up for it,” he said, his voice husky with lust, the tiredness of the long ride to Akkad forgotten.

Then he had no more words. He scooped her up as easily as she lifted Sargon, and deposited her on the bed. She arched her back under his touch, and slipped her arms around his neck.

“We can talk later,” she breathed into his ear. “Try not to wake Sargon.”

“You’re more likely to wake him than I am.”

She buried her face in his shoulder. “I’ll try not to cry out.”

“Don’t try too hard,” he warned her. “I’ve been gone a long time.”

T
wo days later, just before the sun reached its height overhead, a small procession wended its way out of Akkad’s river gate. The party walked along the path that followed the riverbank for half a mile, then traveled across the fields to the sprawling farmstead owned by Rebba, one of the nobles who helped rule Akkad. Though the nobles had lost some of their authority after Eskkar’s rule commenced, they still retained much influence, and ruling the city without their support would have made that task even more difficult. With this new challenge to Akkad’s future looming, both Eskkar and Trella knew that the nobles’ advice and consent would be critical.

Noble Rebba and his family owned several large farms, which made him the wealthiest farmholder in the lands close to Akkad. His crops and herds contributed much to the city’s prosperity, and its inhabitants respected both his wisdom and courage. In the fight against Korthac, Rebba had gambled his life and that of his family on Eskkar’s behalf.

Rebba’s farm lay less than two miles north of Akkad and along the Tigris. Eskkar and a small force of soldiers had landed their boats there two years ago. He’d raced down the river from the village of Bisitun to recapture Akkad from the Egyptians who had seized both the city and Trella.