Sam Barone: Empire Rising

He is too loyal to you and Lady Trella.”

“In serving Korthac, who knows how many evil deeds Hathor may have accomplished in the past. He may have…”

Trella dropped her eyes, and Eskkar’s voice trailed off. Without saying anything, she reminded him of another who had done things in the past, things better forgotten.

“No one has accused Hathor of evil deeds,” Annok-sur said, filling in the silence.

“Not yet,” Eskkar countered. “Today, in the marketplace, I’m sure many will come forth to confront him.” He shook his head. “Still, I have no quarrel with him. He can spend the rest of his days as a slave, working on the wall.”

“When Korthac amused himself at my expense,” Trella said, “Hathor was the only one who looked away. He did not take pleasure in my suffering.”

Her words told him she wanted Hathor to live, and not as a slave.

“Perhaps there is another way,” Trella continued. “Perhaps you can make use of him.”

“Use him?”

“You always say how you look for men who can command. Hathor is one such. Even Korthac thought so. With Korthac gone and the rest of the Egyptians dead, Hathor has no one else to turn to. In Akkad, every man’s hand will be against him. Such a man might prove useful to you, Eskkar, if you held his loyalty.”

Eskkar looked from one woman to the other. Annok-sur nodded slightly, to show her approval; En-hedu’s lip trembled as she watched him, as if fearful of an outburst of anger.

Trella stroked little Sargon, tracing his cheek with her finger for a moment, then lifting her eyes to Eskkar’s. “It is something to think about, husband. There is no rush to put him to death.”

As always, she gave him time to make up his mind, to think things through in his own way.

“I’ll consider it,” he answered. “Is there anything else?”

“No, nothing. You’ll do what’s best.”

The words sounded humble, but he caught the gleam in her eye.

“But perhaps it would be good to speak to him yourself,” Trella added.

“Can you have him brought here?”

“Up here? Now?” He regretted the words the moment he uttered them. He knew Trella too well. Once she made up her mind, she always acted quickly.

“I can have him brought up, Lord Eskkar,” Annok-sur offered.

Now Bantor’s wife was calling him “lord.”

“No, I’ll bring him.” Eskkar needed the time to think, and he certainly wasn’t going to win any arguments here, not with the three of them united against him. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, wondering what they would say with him gone.

In the courtyard, the command table stood empty. He knew Gatus had gone with the council members to gather up the traitors.

Eskkar walked over to the guards. He nodded to the one watching Hathor, and ducked his head as he entered inside.

Hathor looked up when he entered, but said nothing.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are Lord Eskkar. I saw you yesterday when I was brought here.”

The man spoke with a strong accent, but Eskkar had no difficulty understanding his words.

“Are you ready to die, Hathor?”

“As ready as any man, lord.” He pushed himself up a little straighter against the wall. “I would have killed myself rather than been captured, but your men took me before I could fall on my sword.”

Eskkar grunted at that news. So this all could have been avoided if Bantor’s men hadn’t been so efficient. He stared at Hathor. Despite the Egyptian’s strong words, Eskkar saw the trembling in his hands that betrayed his fear. No man wants to die alone, surrounded by enemies and strangers. A warrior expected to die in battle, often looked forward to it; better to end that way than a lingering death from illness or old age, alone, perhaps begging in the streets.

Another long-forgotten memory returned, of a time many years ago when Eskkar had sat bound and bloody against a cave wall, death pricking the skin at his throat, afraid, yet too proud to beg for his life, while a group of women decided his fate. Women had spared him then, and now women wanted him to spare this man. Perhaps Eskkar owed the gods a debt, one that must be repaid. Ishtar, the earth goddess, was a woman, after all.

“Guard, get some water for the prisoner.” Eskkar used the time to think.

The guard returned with a skin filled with water. Eskkar took it from his hands, cursing at the old memories; he should feel hate for the Egyptian, not pity. He handed the skin to the surprised Hathor and let him drink his fill, much of the water dribbling down his chest as the man held the skin clumsily with his bound hands.

Eskkar turned to the guard, still standing in the doorway. “Bring him to the workroom. And wash the blood from his hands and face first.”

Ignoring the soldier’s surprised look, Eskkar returned to the upper rooms. He sat down at the big table and waited. Annok-sur summoned Drusala to watch the baby; the midwife closed the door to the inner room after Trella and En-hedu joined Eskkar in the workroom. The two women guided Trella to the seat beside her husband, then stood behind her.

It took two men to bring Hathor up the stairs, and by the time he stood in front of Eskkar, a sheen of perspiration covered his face. At least they’d cleaned most of the blood off.

“Put him on the stool,” Eskkar ordered, “then leave us.”

“Lord, one of us should stay, in case…”

“I’ll watch him myself,” Eskkar cut the man off. He stood up and moved to the other side of the table, then sat on the corner, between Hathor and the women, fingering the knife on his belt.

Trella waited until the guards had left, closing the door behind them.

“Do you remember me?” Her voice once again held the power of command, no matter how weak she might feel.

Hathor nodded, his eyes darting from husband to wife.

“Tell me of Korthac,” Trella said. “Tell me what he did in Egypt.”

The question caught Hathor by surprise. “Why do you wish… to know about Korthac?”

“It cannot matter now to answer my questions.” Trella kept her voice even, a polite request to a guest.

Eskkar said nothing, just stared at the man. If Hathor refused to speak, he would go to the marketplace and suffer with his leader.

Hathor dropped his eyes. “It matters not, I suppose… Lady Trella.”

So the Egyptian wasn’t a complete fool, Eskkar thought.

Hathor’s story came out haltingly. The years spent pillaging the land, gathering forces, two mighty armies battling to control the land of Egypt.

The conquests, the battles, the villages taken and burned, the lands devastated, the final conflict that saw Korthac defeated and driven into the desert with the last of his men, all of them lucky to escape with their lives.

To his surprise, Eskkar found himself listening with interest. When the man ended his tale, Eskkar had a question of his own. “Tell me about the battle here in Akkad.”

Hathor made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You were too clever for Korthac. He knew you didn’t have enough men. He never thought you would divide what little you had to slip inside and raise the city. Or that Akkad would rise up, even for you.”

“My men didn’t think much of the idea at the time,” Eskkar said, remembering the arguments at Rebba’s farmhouse.

“Your men follow where you lead, Lord Eskkar. I see that they don’t fear you, the way we all feared Korthac. You speak to them as an equal. You must be a great warrior to hold so much loyalty.”

Eskkar stared at the man, not sure what to make of the words of praise. “Go on, Hathor. Tell me of the battle.”

The Egyptian began again, relating how they’d been surprised at the strike here at the house, how they hadn’t expected Eskkar to arrive so soon, and the confusion that broke out among them, even the hatred Takany felt for Ariamus. Hathor spoke for some time, but then his voice gave out. He tried to continue, but Eskkar held up his hand.