Quest for Honour (32 page)

At last En-hedu found two women searching for customers on the edge of the marketplace. Both appeared reasonably clean and presentable, though they looked as if they hadn’t eaten well for some time. En-hedu approached them. Since they were working the streets, they obviously didn’t have a tavern or inn keeper to shelter and look after them. “Are you looking for work?”

One woman had a few strands of gray hair sprinkled in amongst her dark tresses. She forced a smile to her lips and took a deep breath, pushing her bosom forward and nearly out of her garment. “Yes, mistress. I enjoy comforting a woman. What would you like?”

“Nothing for myself. My name is En-hedu, and my husband and I have just opened a tavern. I’m searching for someone to help serve the ale and take care of the customers.” No need to explain what taking care of the customers involved.

The woman bowed respectfully. Anyone who owned a business was entitled to a good deal of respect. “My name is Irkalla, and this is Anu, my daughter.”

En-hedu guessed Anu had fourteen or fifteen seasons. She looked much like her mother, except Anu’s eyes lacked the sharp wits that marked Irkalla’s. The two women resembled sisters rather than mother and daughter, but that made no difference.

“The tavern is called the Kestrel, just off Dockside Lane, opposite the shop of Dragush the carpenter. If you perform your duties well, you’ll have a place to sleep, and you can keep a third of what you make from the customers. All the copper will first be paid to me or my husband, of course.”

If you let the girls collect the coins, they would try and cheat you, or disappear one night with some man, along with the evening’s profits.

“A third is not much,” Irkalla said. “Many taverns let the girls keep half their fees.”

“If the girls are beautiful and very skilled.” En-hedu lifted her hands and let them drop. “Have you worked in a tavern before?”

“I have . . . but not for many years,” Irkalla answered, lowering her head.

En-hedu guessed Irkalla had thought about lying, but changed her mind. “Many taverns don’t give their girls a place to sleep, or feed them
twice a day. That is my offer. If you’re not interested . . .”

“Forgive me, mistress,” Irkalla said, using the usual sign of respect for any head of the household. “Yes, we are interested, as long as I can keep my daughter with me. She gets frightened easily. We would work very hard to please your customers. When can we start?”

“Today. Now. My husband will want to speak with you as well. He will explain exactly what will be expected from you both.”

“Then we will follow you back to the . . . Kestrel, to meet your husband.” Irkalla took Anu’s hand, and smiled. “Give thanks to our new mistress.”

“We thank you,” Anu said, dutifully.

The poor girl didn’t appear very happy, despite the prospect of having a roof over her head tonight. En-hedu led the way back to the Kestrel, the two women, still holding hands, following behind.

D
ay by day, the Kestrel took shape. An artisan sketched an outline of the bird on the wall next to the door, then finished by coloring it in shades of gray and rose, a splendid image of the small but cunning aerial hunter. Tammuz expressed his satisfaction by serving the artist a second cup of ale in addition to the supper promised for later that day.

A woman living down the lane agreed to bake bread for the tavern, and her two children fetched buckets of fresh water each morning. After a few days, the baker accepted an offer to come each day at sundown to cook the usual pot of stew, comprised of whatever En-hedu had bartered or purchased that day. With the wine and ale sellers finally delivering what they promised, the Kestrel once again began to attract a good number of customers. Two laborers arrived with a cart loaded with clean sand to fill and smooth over the floor of the inn, which had degenerated into a lopsided layer of dirt that had more rocks than soil.

The location, so close to the docks, naturally attracted plenty of river men, as well as those sailors who traveled along the coast of the great sea. The unruly crowd needed watching, of course, but Tammuz had searched the dockside and marketplace for days until he found a former soldier named Rimaud.

Big and strong, Rimaud had taken an arrow in his leg during a battle with the desert horsemen, and the wound had never fully healed. He walked with a heavy limp, and pain still crossed his face from time to time.
Since he could no longer work all day, or even move quickly, he’d suffered in finding work on the docks. But for Tammuz and the Kestrel, Rimaud would have no trouble keeping order within its confines.

With Jarud and one or two of his guardsmen stopping by almost every night, word soon spread that the honest innkeeper and his wife provided good ale and decent food, in a setting where you could eat and drink without worrying about getting your throat slit or your purse cut.

A few evenings later, just as En-hedu and Irkalla finished serving the day’s stew, a man rushed into the Kestrel, and shouted that King Eridu had died, murdered by his steward. Over their ale cups, heads huddled close together. Many whispered words that expressed satisfaction about the death of Eridu One-hand. Not one spoke a word of mourning or respect for the dead man. “Maybe now we’ll have peace,” one man said, muttering into his ale cup.

No one from the city’s watch came that evening, and most of the customers left early, unsure of what the future would bring.

The next morning, Tammuz and En-hedu learned that Eridu’s son, Shulgi, had taken command of Sumer and its soldiers.

Soon messengers walked the city’s lanes, spreading word that King Shulgi had summoned all the inhabitants of Sumer to the marketplace at noon. Leaving Rimaud to watch the inn, Tammuz and En-hedu followed the crowd, and managed to secure a place just within earshot of their new ruler.

“A handsome man,” En-hedu remarked, as Shulgi stepped forward and began to speak.

“Not much older than we are,” agreed Tammuz.

After explaining how his father was murdered by his steward, Shulgi proclaimed that he would continue Eridu’s rule. Then he called for a time of peace and healing. There would be no further war preparations.

Everyone cheered, and words of praise and support for their new king echoed throughout the marketplace.

Shulgi explained that peace would allow Sumer’s people to work and plan for the future. No action would be taken or permitted against Akkadians, and trade would resume with the northern cities at once. King Shulgi also announced that he would send a deputation to Akkad, to inform King Eskkar of his desire for an end to hostilities between the two cities.

By the time Shulgi finished speaking, the throng voiced their approval
for their new ruler. The war with Akkad was over, and a great weight had been lifted from Sumer’s inhabitants. Mothers would not have to dread their husbands and sons going off to war, and families could work their farms and shops without worrying about being conscripted. Again and again, the crowd declared their thanks for the new king and his policy.

To conclude his speech, Shulgi declared three days of mourning for his father. After which, he continued, there would be three days of feasting to celebrate the coming peace. Of course, the people ignored the first pronouncement and started celebrating. None concerned themselves about the demise of the unloved and aloof Eridu One-hand, who had brought them nothing but grief and disaster.

Tammuz and En-hedu joined in the cheering, waving their hands and shouting as loud as anyone. But that night, when the inn finally quieted down, they lay in their bed and whispered to each other.

“If there is to be peace,” Tammuz said, “maybe there will be no need for us to remain in Sumer.”

“Yes, if there is to be peace,” En-hedu said. “But men may say one thing while they think another. What better way to deceive your own people than to tell them what they want to hear? The next few months will tell us who this Shulgi is, and what he really intends.”

“Well, meanwhile we can enjoy ourselves while we wait,” Tammuz said. He ran his hand down her shoulder and across her belly, enjoying the smooth flesh that never failed to arouse him. There was a time for war, and a time for pleasure, and he didn’t intend to confuse one with the other.

Three days later . . .

K
ing Shulgi strode into his house, climbed the stairs two at a time, and stepped into the council chamber where not long ago his father had met with the leaders of the other cities. The house, the Compound, the soldiers, the city, all that once belonged to his father now belonged to Shulgi. The guards who patrolled the Compound reported to him, not Razrek. King Shulgi ruled over every man and woman in Sumer.

That included Kushanna. Eridu had treated Shanna as just another possession, forced to attend to his every beck and call, as much Eridu’s property as any servant or slave; in due time, he would have again married her off to another petty noble either for a goodly supply of gold or to further Eridu’s needs. There might not be much gold left in Eridu’s secret places, but Shulgi intended to make better use of what remained than his father had.

Kushanna entered the meeting chamber a few steps behind her half-brother, and a moment later, Razrek arrived. Two of Shulgi’s men guarded the room’s entrance, and none of Razrek’s men had been permitted into the Compound.

Shulgi unbuckled his sword and dumped it on the table before he sat down. Kushanna sat as well, taking the seat on her brother’s right.

“Sit down, Razrek,” Shulgi said. “We’ve much to talk about.”

The soldier glanced at Shanna, who favored him with one of her most
pleasing smiles. Nevertheless, he sat down warily. “What shall we talk about?”

“The war, of course,” Shulgi said. No doubt Razrek hadn’t expected Shanna to remain.

“Yesterday you spoke of peace in the marketplace.”

“And peace is what we’ll have for quite some time. In fact, there will be peace until the day we’re ready for war with Akkad. And this time we’ll strike so hard a blow that Akkad’s walls will fall as easily as their barbarian leader.”

“Your father wanted to fight . . .”

“You will never mention my father’s name again, Razrek. His plans, his thoughts, all mean nothing. He was a merchant who thought his gold made him a leader of soldiers. You took his gold and let him play out his dreams of glory to further your own ends. You are as much responsible for the debacle on the border as he was.”

Razrek bristled at the slur. “I did my best to warn him. Believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure than killing Eskkar and . . .”

“You will address me as ‘king’ or ‘my lord.’ Don’t forget that again, not even in private.”

The soldier glanced at Kushanna, but her eyes were lowered, her gaze apparently fixed on the table.

“King Shulgi.” Razrek bowed his head. “What do you want of me and my men?”

“Your men are no longer yours to command,” Kushanna said, her eyes now fixed on Razrek. “From now on, all of them will be under King Shulgi’s authority.”

Razrek’s eyes widened in surprise. “And what will I be doing?”

“You will be raising fresh troops and training them,” said Shulgi. “I need bowmen, spearmen, and more horsemen. Thousands of them. You will take what gold I can spare, build a camp on the edge of the western desert, and start recruiting.”

“But that would take months, years . . . Lord Shulgi.”

“Yes, I know. It may be as much as two years before we are ready. But I’m still young, and I can afford to be patient. Our plans will take time to bear fruit. But there is much to do in the coming days to prepare for our attack. This war will be won not just on some battlefield, but in every city on the Tigris. Our victory must destroy Akkad so completely that it can never rise again. The land between the rivers will be ruled from Sumer.”

“What will the people say when they learn of your plans?”

“They will not learn of them until I am ready to tell them. By then they will be as eager to fight Akkad as any bride on her wedding night is eager to please her husband. Until that day, we will talk only of peace and trade.” Shulgi leaned closer to Razrek and placed his hands on the sword resting on the table. “Until that day, only the three of us will know my plans. So if people begin to speak of war, I’ll know who is responsible.”

“Then you already have made plans?”

“Kushanna and I have spoken of many things.” Shulgi didn’t bother to elaborate. Instead, he lifted his hand from the sword and placed it on her arm. “Meanwhile, you will be well paid, and when we complete our conquest, you’ll have more gold and slaves and power than you can imagine.”

“I can imagine quite a lot . . . Lord Shulgi.”

“I’m sure you can, Razrek. Just make sure you remember to keep silent. We will speak only of peace while we prepare for war.”

“People will notice sooner or later, Lord.”

Shulgi nodded. “Eventually. But when they do, we’ll tell them we’re arming against the western raiders, or the barbarians to the north-east. Which, as it happens, is going to be true.”

“We’re at peace with the desert tribes.” Razrek’s face betrayed his confusion.