Sam Barone: Battle For Empire

3103 BC, the Palace in the city of Akkad, in the Land Between the Rivers. .

“Tell me a story, Grandmother.”

The childish words caught Trella by surprise. She rose from her seat at the window to find Escander standing a few steps behind her. The words and intonation might be those of a little boy, but the youth facing her had already entered his manhood.

“And who let you into my rooms unannounced?” She frowned at him and shook her head, annoyed only at herself for not hearing his approach.

“You did, Grandmother, else your guards would have stopped me.” His voice now held all the confidence of a young man. “So you must still want to see your favorite grandson.”

“I’ll speak to the guards about their carelessness later. No doubt they’ve been sleeping at their post again.”

Escander smiled at her jest.

The hard-eyed and well-trained bodyguards from the Hawk Clan remained ever alert outside Lady Trella’s quarters. They had a very short list of those allowed entry to her chambers unannounced. King Sargon, her eldest son, as well as her two other children, Zakita and Melkorak. Escander’s name came next.

After that, except for a handful of trusted servants and close companions who had served Trella through the years, everyone else, including her other grandchildren, had to seek an audience or wait for approval to enter Trella’s wing of the Palace. Even now, the King’s Mother had many enemies, and not all of them dwelt outside the royal residence.

Her frown faded. Trella held out her arms and let Escander embrace his grandmother, her forehead resting easily on his shoulder. His body felt warm and reassuring, strong and full of life against her.

Trella remembered how often she’d held the boy as a child. He needed her touch then, even more than her own children. Tell me a story, Grandmother . Escander was always pleading and cajoling her while growing up, using the same words and plaintive voice she’d found difficult to refuse.

Escander occupied a special place in her affections. Sargon had carried his son Escander to Trella when he was little more than two years old, the boy sobbing, his face buried in his father’s shoulder. The poor child had just learned of his mother’s death, and Sargon, his own grief scarcely under control, handed the frightened and bewildered boy to Trella.

“Please care for him, Mother.” Sargon touched the boy’s cheek and brushed away a tear. “He means so much. . there’s no one else I trust with him.” Sargon, too, had tears in his eyes. He’d loved only two women in his life, and both had died in childbirth.

From that day, Trella raised Escander as her own child, though she never let the boy forget the memory of his real mother, a good woman who cared deeply for both Sargon and their son.

Trella brought her thoughts back to the present. She separated herself from her grandson’s embrace. “And what brings you to me now? It’s after midday. I know you returned to the Palace last night. Were you too busy to visit your grandmother?”

Almost a month ago, Escander had ridden north, traveling with his uncle Melkorak to inspect the border villages and their garrisons. They had returned to Akkad yesterday.

“The night was late when we arrived, Grandmother, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I planned to come this morning, but Father summoned me. We spoke for some time. He said. .”

Escander met her eyes. “He’s sending me to the steppes, to visit our allies and learn from them. But before I leave, he wanted me to speak with you. . to ask for your help.”

Trella studied her grandson carefully. Midway into his fifteenth season, Escander appeared taller than she remembered, more man than the boy who’d ridden out with his uncle only a month ago. Escander’s shoulders had grown broader, his arms thick with muscle, much like his grandfather, Eskkar.

The young man’s light brown hair would have swirled around his gray eyes but an unadorned strip of black leather kept his long hair away from his face and off his neck. A broad forehead gave his face a rugged look. His keen wits and quick tongue nearly matched her own.

It was his mouth that intrigued Trella the most. Escander had the same mouth and jutting chin as his grandfather. When Escander smiled, Trella saw the stamp of her husband’s face on the boy, Eskkar’s blood flowing through their grandson’s veins.

The youth had indeed grown into a man, Trella reminded herself. Already he knew the ways of power, and the many secrets of Akkad’s rulers. Now the time had come for Escander to prove not only his manhood, but his readiness to take the crown of Akkad someday.

For that to happen, he needed to travel to the steppes, to earn the respect of their allies and learn the grim ways of warfare, where lessons came only through battle and at the risk of his life. Sargon’s firstborn son had died there. Now Escander would follow the same path, and possibly meet the same tragic end.

“Do you approve of what you see, Grandmother?” He smiled.

Again Trella saw Eskkar’s features reflected in her grandson’s face. This time a pang of loneliness swept through her. “Don’t question your elders.”

She’d been gazing at him for some time. “You come to see me with no warning, asking silly questions.”

“My father said there were many things I should know before I leave.” Escander met her eyes, his expression serious.

“And what could an old woman tell you that the King could not?”

“You’re not so old, Grandmother.” Escander reached out and touched her cheek. “You’ve scarcely changed since I was a child.”

“Which, as I recall,” Trella said, unable to conceal a smile, “wasn’t that many years ago.”

She pushed his hand away. In one more year, she would reach her sixtieth season, and her hair had long since turned to gray. Nevertheless, she thanked the gods that her wits remained sharp, even if her body had thickened somewhat with age and the burden of birthing three children.

At least she still stood upright, and retained some of the grace that had marked her girlhood. And men yet looked at her with favor, and while she might smile back, she had never taken a lover.

“I don’t think your father sent you here to talk about your childhood.” Trella linked her arm within Escander’s and guided him to the wide table that butted against the window overlooking the garden below. Two chairs, each with a thick russet cushion, added a touch of luxury to the otherwise spare furnishings. “Now, tell me exactly what King Sargon said.”

“That you should tell me about my grandfather, that it would help me in the north.” Escander settled into the chair beside her. “And about Father’s own journey there. All about it. The good and the bad.”

“Oh, Sargon said that, did he?” Trella leaned back in her chair. “Is my son now afraid to speak to his son? Perhaps I should talk with him, not you.”

Escander reached across the table and took her hand. “Be serious, Grandmother. Everyone knows there are secrets only you know and understand, about the dangers in the steppes, and what happened to my half-brother there. Father knows, but he can’t. . won’t talk about it.”

“It’s too painful for him.” Trella squeezed Escander’s hand for a moment.

Her thoughts went back to those days of danger, of pain, and of sorrow. And of happiness. Those feelings, too, had faded away, replaced with a sense of serenity as she drew closer to her end of days.

She raised her eyes, looking over the boy’s shoulder and beyond the window, at the green and brown hilltop less than half a mile away. Lately Trella spent more and more of her time staring at the sight. Her husband Eskkar was buried there, near the crest of the hill. The unmarked grave dove deep into the earth.