Empire Rising (38 page)

With only a handful of men in Akkad, Korthac had too much to lose to take any chances with a drunken soldier getting into trouble. He’d ordered one whipped last week. Only yesterday Hathor had knocked another to the ground. Both Korthac and Hathor reminded their men again and again that, in a few weeks, they’d have plenty of gold and unlimited opportunities to enjoy the women of Akkad.

Korthac’s other two subcommanders, Takany and Nebibi, remained across the river with Ariamus, keeping a watchful eye on the man and helping raise and train the desperate men they recruited. Korthac felt certain he could rely on Ariamus, at least as long as the gold kept flowing.

More than six weeks had passed since Korthac arrived in Akkad, and he’d received a report each week about Ariamus’s progress.

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hours at the docks with a few of his men, meeting ships as they arrived, doing a little trading here and there.

Occasionally a boat carried one of Ariamus’s men, who would sit with the Egyptian and report. Korthac made sure the messenger got right back aboard a ship heading south. With Trella’s spies everywhere, there must be no boasting words or smug looks to give away his plan.

According to Hathor’s latest report, the former captain of the guard had already mustered over ninety men, almost all of them mounted, and most of them claiming to have fighting experience. Ariamus had dispensed plenty of Korthac’s gold and silver, along with promises of future loot to recruit these men. Korthac doubted they would come close to the quality of his Egyptians, but right now he needed bodies. With enough men who could at least swing a sword, Korthac would seize power in Akkad.

More than half the city’s soldiers were away, either with Eskkar or Bantor. That meant, on any given day, less than a hundred men maintained order, watched the walls, and manned the gates. Korthac had no doubt his seventy Egyptians could take the city from within, as long as they didn’t get involved in an archery battle. He’d watched the Akkadian soldiers practice, and seen what they could do with the bow. But in close-up fighting, his men would prevail. Holding Akkad would be another matter, and for that he needed Ariamus and his men, and, equally as important, their horses.

In a few more weeks, as the entire city knew, Bantor and his men would return from the south. Korthac wanted to act before their arrival. Eskkar, proving as unpredictable as everyone said, lingered in Bisitun. Nevertheless, the barbarian might return to Akkad at any time, probably bringing with him at least half his forces. If he stayed away a few more weeks, Korthac’s work would be much simpler. He’d been in Akkad long enough to understand local politics. The nobles who formed the ruling council were merely traders, men who dealt with buying and selling, not fighting, and all of them intimidated by Eskkar’s soldiers. Several chafed at Eskkar and Trella’s new restrictions on their authority. The people wouldn’t rally around any of them. A few public executions, followed by distribution of a few gold coins, would silence both traders and nobles, and bend them to his rule.

Trella might provide such a rallying point, but he intended to take care of her when the time came. And without Eskkar here to rouse the inhabitants and give them the will to resist, the city would fall like an over-ripe apple from a tree into Korthac’s waiting hands.

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Eskkar would have to die, of course, but that could happen just as easily in the north as here in Akkad. As soon as Ariamus raised another twenty or thirty men, Korthac would strike. He’d take the city, then destroy the rest of Eskkar’s forces piecemeal. Only a fool divided his forces.

In his many battles, Korthac had learned one thing—concentrate his fighters and overwhelm his enemy. It had worked in Egypt and it would work here. He looked forward to teaching this Eskkar the same lesson.

Putting such ideas out of his mind, he thought about today’s cele-bratory feast. Korthac could smile at that, the futility of the men of this land relying on Ishtar, a female deity, for protection. As foolish as the men of Akkad relying on Trella. Eskkar’s wife had planned a special repast at her home to celebrate some incomprehensible aspect of Ishtar’s power, though the occasion also gave thanks for the deliverance of the city from the barbarian invasion, and for Eskkar’s recent success in Bisitun.

Whatever the reasons, Korthac recognized it for what it was, a chance for Trella to entertain and impress her followers with her authority. All the powerful and influential people in the city had received their invitations, a black-painted piece of pottery bearing Eskkar’s mark on one side and an image of the goddess on the other. Only the lucky few bearing the invitation, and their retainers, would be admitted to Eskkar’s house. The rest of Akkad would celebrate in the streets, probably long into the night.

Korthac had already resigned himself to a night without sleep, with the city full of noise and revelry.

He’d received the invitation three days ago, and, befitting his new status in Akkad, no doubt one of the first to be delivered. This morning he’d coached Hathor in his role, making sure the dour soldier knew how to behave, and reminding him once again to make sure he gave no offense.

Korthac had even bought a new tunic for his subcommander, something that would reflect favorably on his employer’s status.

The late afternoon sun drifted toward the horizon when, wearing his finest garment and new leather sandals, Korthac strode through the streets to Eskkar’s gate, Hathor at his side. Naturally his subcommander carried a sword, but Korthac went unarmed. Weapons would not be permitted inside the courtyard, the usual policy to ensure guests who drank too much didn’t wind up killing each other over some perceived slight.

Of course the weapons’ ban also protected Trella, and Korthac had to admit that her guards knew their business, staying alert and watching the crowds wherever she walked about the city.

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Reaching Eskkar’s gate, Korthac and Hathor had to wait in line, as the guards checked invitations and made sure none of the guests were armed.

“Greetings, Honorable Korthac.” The guard bowed slightly as he took the clay shard from Korthac’s hand. “Are there more in your party?”

“No, just the two of us.” Korthac gave the soldier a friendly smile.

Hathor had already removed his sword belt and handed it to another of Trella’s guards. Hathor even managed a tight smile as he did so.

“Please enter Lord Eskkar’s house, honored guests.” The guard bowed again, already turning to greet the next in line.

Inside the courtyard, a half-dozen tables held pitchers of wine, bread covered with honey, platters of fruit and sweets. A clay bowl in the center of each table held a large spray of flowers, each table offering a different blossom. Smoke rose from the rear of the courtyard, as well as from the kitchens, and the scent of crisping meat hung in the air. On the roof opposite Eskkar’s quarters, musicians played their flutes, and a juggler tossed his brightly painted wooden balls high in the air.

The courtyard, big as it was, couldn’t hold everyone, and the guests mingled inside the main house as well, talking and gesturing. Servants poured the wine, mixed equally with water, and several guests appeared to be under the wine-god’s spell already.

Korthac spotted several nobles from the ruling council, all of them distinguished by the dark blue trim on their tunics, a color reserved for the ruling families. He accepted a brimming cup from one of the table attendants, then moved as close to the rear wall as he could get without moving into the cooking area. Some of the guests appeared to be nothing more than common tradesmen, still wearing their ragged and dirt-stained tunics. At least a dozen soldiers were scattered about, the Hawk Clan emblem on their shoulders, mingling with the guests as if they were equals.

Unlike the rest of those invited, the Hawk Clan alone carried weapons, either short swords or knives. They, Korthac noted, did not have wine cups in their hands.

Women made up almost half the crowd, wearing their finest garments, standing beside their men or gossiping together. Most did not even cover their heads with scarves, a custom Korthac still hadn’t gotten used to.

“Honorable Korthac, may I offer you some of Lady Trella’s best wine?”

He turned to find Annok-sur standing at his side, a small pitcher in one Empire Rising

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hand, a wine cup in the other. Korthac smiled at her as he exchanged his half-empty cup for the new one. “I thank you for your gift, Annok-sur.” He took a sip. The sweet wine had a pleasing odor, a far better blend than what he had picked up at the table. “This is very good. My thanks to Lady Trella.”

He looked about, but didn’t see his hostess. “Is Lady Trella unwell?”

“No, she’s resting upstairs,” Annok-sur said with a smile of her own.

“She’d be pleased if you wish to visit her. She enjoys your stories about the land of Egypt.”

And always interrupted each story with a dozen questions that probed for any detail of his past life, Korthac recalled. “Of course. Who would resist such a generous hostess.” He turned to Hathor. “Wait here.” He didn’t like leaving the man alone, but it would look odd to bring him into the house.

Annok-sur weaved her way through the crowd, and Korthac trailed in her wake, annoyed that he had to follow in any woman’s footsteps. He’d never been inside Eskkar’s house before. Looking about, he saw the great room as crowded as the courtyard. Most of the guests stayed close to a long table loaded with wine and food, trying to get as much of the free fare as they could.

A guard kept the stairs to the upper rooms clear, but he stepped aside and nodded at Annok-sur as they passed. Another guard stood at the top of the landing. Looking about, Korthac studied Trella’s private quarters as he entered, quarters that would soon be his. Benches and stools lined the walls, and a small table held pitchers of wine and water, but no food.

Korthac recognized the captain of the guard, Gatus, sitting next to Trella near to the window. Corio stood nearby, with his wife and two sons, talking to one of the nobles who operated several boats that plied the river trade.

Nicar, his wife, their son, and daughter-in-law stood together, talking excitedly among themselves.

Trella rose from her seat as Korthac crossed the room. Surprised by her size, he realized her pregnancy had progressed since he’d last seen her. Even the loose-fitting dress she wore couldn’t conceal her condition.

He’d always found pregnant women distasteful, unclean somehow. Their bloated bodies should be hidden away, out of sight, until they produced their offspring, preferably without annoying their betters. Korthac had fathered more children than he could remember, but had never cared for any of them or their mothers, either. A woman’s children made her weak and easy to manage, and he looked forward to Trella’s delivery.

“Greetings, Lady Trella.” He bowed low to show his respect.

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“Welcome to our home, Honorable Korthac.” She bowed politely to him, like any respectable wife greeting her husband’s guests.

“A blessing to the goddess Ishtar for your future family, and for your invitation to share in her blessings,” he intoned, fulfilling the courtesy the celebration required.

“You learn our customs well, Honorable Korthac.” She turned to Gatus. “Can our guest take your seat for a moment, Gatus?”

“Yes, he can have it,” Gatus replied, getting up and stretching. “I need something solid to eat, anyway. I’ll take your leave, Trella.” He bowed to her, then to Korthac.

“Sit beside me,” Trella said, resuming her seat again. “I find I tire easily, and preparing for the feast has kept me busy since early this morning.”

“The city is praising your name, Lady Trella, and thanking you for the gifts of food and wine.” For a city reputed to be pressed for gold, Trella had managed to buy enough food to give nearly everyone in Akkad a good meal and enough ale to wash it down.

“And you, Korthac, have you decided to remain in our city?”

He’d spread the word that he considered living in the countryside, or perhaps even downriver. The news had sent a dozen traders to his door, entreating him to stay and trade his gemstones in Akkad. The simple rumor had helped him make a dozen new friends.

“I think I’ll stay in Akkad, Lady Trella.” He might as well tell her the truth. She knew no merchant would willingly leave the city and all its advantages. “I’m still looking for a new house, perhaps something like this one. I heard this once belonged to a merchant?”

“Yes, but Nicar loaned it to Eskkar for the siege. Afterward, my husband paid Nicar for it.”

“When does your husband return, Lady Trella? I’m looking forward to meeting him, if even half the stories I’ve heard are true.”

She laughed. “That’s what they are, Honorable Korthac, half-true. But he is a strong leader who cares for his people. I think you will like him.”

“I’m sure I will, Lady Trella.” I’ll like him better when he’s dead, which will be soon enough, Korthac thought, and then he’d wipe that smile off her face. He hated having to restrain himself around anyone, let alone an upstart young girl.

“Now tell me, Honorable Korthac, when are you going to let your men move about the city? I hear they spend all their time cooped up inside that dreadful inn.”

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“My servants are uncouth men. Many are not even used to living in a village, let alone a city like Akkad. But they were all I could find to accompany me on my journey.” Korthac kept his tone soothing. His time would come soon enough. “I would prefer to keep them out of trouble, at least until they’ve learned to speak your language and understand Akkad’s customs. A week or two after I’m established in my new home, they’ll be ready to go about on their own.”

“The merchants will be glad to see them.”

“As glad as my men will be, I can promise you that.” He saw a hint of disbelief in her eyes, and wondered if his words sounded too con-descending.