Kathryn swallowed slightly; she'd gotten used to the butcher-shop horrors of the battlefield, somewhat, but this was something completely different.
Kashtiliash caught her look and walked a little aside, signaling her to follow with a slight movement of his head.
"You did very good work last night," he said. "If I had had to use only my own forces, many more would have died."
She shrugged, with a weary smile. "The First Kar-Duniash is your own, Lord King," she said.
"They are as you made them, and they did well," Kashtiliash said, sighing and rubbing his fingers across his brow. "Would that this had not been necessary."
"Amen," she said.
"It is strange," he said meditatively. "If I thought of it at all, before you-your people-came to the Land, I thought of Kar-Duniash as the center of the world."
"Everyone does that," Kathryn Hollard said.
Kashtiliash shook his head. "No, but we had reason. No realm we knew was more ancient than the land of Sumer and Akkad, or richer, or more learned, or more skilled in all the arts and knowledge. Oh, perhaps Egypt, yes… Mitanni was a thing of a day, the Hittites rude hillmen who learned from us, the Assyrians our onetime vassals. Of the world we knew, we were the center."
He sighed. "And now I must see us as you Nantukhtar see us- poor, ignorant, dirty, diseased. I have more of the English than you might think, and I have heard your brother and the asu Klemn's speak, and heard reports of what your soldiers and wisemen say. Locals, is that not the word? As we might term a hill-tribe, or a band of the truffle-eating Aramaeans."
"Lord Prince… Kash…"
"No, my Kat 'ryn, I do not say you regard me so-although they say that Ishtar gives blindness along with love. But it is not only that you Nantukhtar think of us so, but that it is so, which karks me. I have listened; your physicians can cure so many illnesses that we suffer; in your land no man goes hungry, and even peasants live like nobles; you have arts that make ours look like some child's fumbling, when he pinches out a little clay ox from the dirt of the fields; and you command a power that can kick apart our proudest cities like a hut of reeds."
"Kash… we just have a longer history. If we see further, it's because we stand on the shoulders of giants-your peoples' not least among them."
The Babylonian was silent for a long moment, then he nodded. "I have thought this also; it keeps my heart from bitterness."
"And we grow and beget and suffer and die too," she said.
"That also." His hand clenched on the hilt of his sword. "I swear by my father, and by the gods of the land, that I will not leave my kingdom and people poor and ignorant and powerless, not while there is strength in my hands."
Kathryn Hollard felt a sudden cold chill. It was only a little way from that oath to resentful hatred for the Republic and all its works…
"I'll help," she heard herself say. "All that I can."
He smiled. "That is very good. And now that I am king… many things may be arranged more as we desire them."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
May-August, Year 10 A.E.
"Yes, sir. We're ready to move out from the bridgeheads on the upper Euphrates. Once Hangalibat is secured-it's still pretty chaotic up here, Chief-we can get in direct contact with the Hittites. From what Councilor Arnstein's saying, things are going pretty well there."
"There's nothing like having your back to the wall to make people reasonable, and they were pretty impressed with the Emancipator. Propaganda value alone is going to make that a cost-effective project… now spit it out."
"Sir?"
"Whatever it is that you're reluctant to talk about, Colonel Hollard. Oh, by the way, for the duration of this war, you're a brigadier general."
Jared Cofflin lowered the microphone of the shortwave set. It was a pleasant late-spring day on Nantucket, not long before Daffodil Weekend. From the second-story radio room he could see some, nodding in yellow glory like a promise of peace.
But there is no peace, he thought to himself.
Martha looked up from her knitting. "I suspect it's about King Kashtiliash," she said.
"Ah…" Hollard's voice came through again. "It's King Kashtiliash, sir. He wants to marry my sis-, ah, Lieutenant Colonel Hollard."
Oh, Jared Cofflin thought. Oh, shit.
"There's no law against marrying noncitizens, dear," Martha pointed out. "In fact, it generally confers automatic resident alien status on the spouse-and there are hundreds of cases."
"Yes, but usually the spouse moves here. And Kashtiliash is a head of state."
"Swindapa is a… well, a Kurlelo Grandmother."
"That's different. And there's a law against citizens seizing power or aiding foreign governments."
"Yes, but Kathryn Hollard isn't proposing to do either. The legitimate government of an ally is proposing to give her a position, and she's not proposing to use it in a way contrary to the interests of the Republic."
"You caught that, Brigadier?"
"Yessir. All right, I've got the text of a goddam proposed marriage contract the two of them drew up. You want me to read it?"
"Go ahead," Cofflin said. After he'd listened, he whistled softly. "Well, I'm surprised he agreed to all that."
There was a slight smile in Kenneth Hollard's voice. "He's got it bad, sir. And it's mostly to his advantage, too-this bit about a Nantucket tutor for any kids they have, and sending them to the Island for schooling as well. That's not unusual here-fostering, that is."
"Marian," Cofflin said, "you've been listening?"
"Mmmm-hmmm," another voice said. "You getting this, Hollard?"
"Yes, ma'am. A bit scratchy but clear."
Swindapa's voice came in: "I think it's sweet."
Hollard chuckled. "Lieutenant Commander, I don't think either of the people concerned is what you could call 'sweet.' "
"Ian?" Cofflin said. "You're not saying anything?"
"I wasn't surprised, and the rest of you are just talking yourselves around to accepting it," Arnstein replied, infuriatingly reasonable. "Could we do that, and get on to things that still aren't settled? Tudhaliyas is dithering, and this barbarian invasion is looking more and more serious."
"And I'm just about ready to go," Marian Alston cut in. "If what I'm planning comes off, the equations in the Middle East all change, too."
Jared Cofflin sighed. I wonder how people like Churchill and FDR kept all their balls in the air at the same time.
"Alaksandrus of Wiulusiya is the key," Tudhaliyas said.
Ian Arnstein nodded, shivering slightly. His scholar's ear looked past the Anatolian pronunciations and supplied Hellenic alternatives- or Achaean, the archaic Mycenaean Greek he'd learned after the Event. Alexandros of Vilios. Later Greek would drop the V sound altogether; it would be Ilios-Troy, as it was also known. Inquiring, he'd learned that the kingdom in question was on the northwestern coast, just south of the Dardanelles. The people were closely related to the Ahhiyawa; and yes, that was a powerful kingdom west across the Aegean.
Doreen leaned over and whispered in his ear, "This is getting too creepy for words."
Ian nodded. So far the Hittites had been vastly impressed-except for King Tudhaliyas, who Ian thought wasn't impressed by much of anything. He'd supplied mooring for the Emancipator, comfortable quarters, lavish gifts… and an endless tale of woe. Tudhaliyas had brains and guts, but he was a complainer. In fact, it would be fair to say he whined.