In a single day of bloodshed and torture, Jedidia had seized control of Sushan and its remaining soldiers. The new King of Elam, at least in name, now faced a new challenge — keeping his empire together.
In a fashion, Jedidia owed his newly-acquired crown to Eskkar. If the barbarian hadn’t defeated Lord Modran in the Dellen Pass, Jedidia would not be King of the Elamite Empire.
But tonight the crafty Akkadian fighting ships had slipped unnoticed into Elam’s waters and attacked Sushan itself, reminding his subjects that the war had not yet ended. They were wrong, of course. The war was in truth over. Jedidia had no intention of wasting more men or gold on a futile pursuit of a western empire. He would need every soldier and every gold coin just to maintain control of what remained of the Elamite Kingdom.
That challenge had occupied Jedidia’s every moment since he placed the crown on his head. Soon enough, subjugated cities throughout the realm would be tempted to seize the opportunity caused by the destruction of much of the Elamite army. They would look for any excuse to revolt against his newly assumed authority. The ships burning in Sushan’s harbor would add fuel to the fires of rebellion.
“Master, you must be cold.” The slave girl who had shared his bed during the night slipped a soft blanket over his shoulders, holding it there until he reached up and clasped the covering.
“Come inside, My Lord. It will be dawn soon, and you should dress.”
A few moments passed before the girl’s words penetrated Jedidia’s rage. For the first time, he noticed the chill in the air that his anger had kept at bay. With a deep breath, Jedidia turned away from the fiery spectacle and stepped back into his bed chamber.
Two scented oil lamps now burned, and he smiled at the naked girl standing before him. A former plaything of Shirudukh, she had worked very hard to satisfy Jedidia’s every desire for the last few nights.
“Thank you.” He reached out, took her by the arms, and let the blanket slip from his shoulders to the floor. Leaning forward, he kissed the warm lips, as he let his hands caress the soft throat. With a murmur of anticipation, she pressed her body against his.
Jedidia inhaled the jasmine scent of the girl’s perfume, then slowly he tightened his grip, giving her a hint of what was to come. Her eyes went wide, but before she could protest, he snapped her neck with a savage twist.
For a moment he stared into her eyes, filled with more surprise than pain. He flung the dying body to the rush-covered floor. The slave was only the first to feel his rage. The lax harbor guards, the sentries along the river sleeping at their posts, anyone who had failed in their duty would soon join her.
Too many people had seen him humiliated by these Akkadians. He would not have this latest story whispered throughout the palace. His new subjects would soon learn the penalty for failure.
“Guards! Clean up this mess.”
King Jedidia’s midmorning meeting with the city’s foremost merchants, traders, and boat owners began with a grim omen. As those summoned entered the Palace from the courtyard, they filed past a pile of seven bloody heads stacked just outside the entrance. These had formerly belonged to those commanders who had failed in their duties last night. Another twenty or so soldiers who fled their posts had already met their deaths in the marketplace.
The severed heads sent a somber and subtle warning to those attending the morning meeting — do not be too critical of the King.
Jedidia stood in front of his throne, arms crossed over his chest, and his fighting sword belted around his waist. Six guards lined the walls, three on either side, and their hard eyes promised a quick response to anyone who aroused the wrath of the King this day.
Off to one side, the four remaining members of former King Shirudukh’s council of advisors also waited. They, too, had been summoned to the Palace, and now they huddled shoulder to shoulder at a narrow table along the Council Room’s wall, facing the King.
The advisors had originally numbered six, but a few days after taking power, Jedidia had sentenced two of them to death by torture for their insults to him in the past. Then he confiscated all their goods, using their wealth to reward his favorite commanders and most loyal soldiers. Now the surviving advisors dared not raise their eyes to their new Lord.
Filling the space directly in front of King Jedidia stood eleven subdued merchants and wealthy traders, those who had suffered the most serious losses from last night’s raid. Despite their apprehension, their voices soon rose in bitter protests, as they listed their damages — fourteen river boats sunk or destroyed, including six of the larger, sea-going vessels.
Only three of those had actually sunk. The rest had burned to the water line, and would never set sail again. The Akkadian pirates had also put to the torch nine barges and a handful of smaller craft. One of the larger transports might possibly be saved.
Several of the grieving ship owners dared to raise their voices. They demanded gold to pay for their losses, and protection from future raids, as if Jedidia could, at a moment’s notice, conjure up fighting vessels and crews to equal those of the Akkadians. He let the complaints go on for a time, until he could stand their jabbering no longer.
“Silence! There will be no compensation! In war, men die, and ships and cargoes are lost. Blame the dog Shirudukh, who led the Empire into this war, then failed to win it. Deal with it as best you can.”
Jedidia did promise that more soldiers would guard the docks day and night, as if that futile gesture meant anything. With nothing left worth burning in Sushan, the Akkadians wouldn’t be back for months, if they bothered to return at all. By now the enemy boats had resumed their patrols at the mouth of the river, the entrance to the Great Sea. Their presence on that station had already prevented any ships from entering Sushan’s harbor from the southern waters for almost thirty days, and ensured that none would be arriving in the foreseeable future.
For a city that depended greatly on trade and supplies from the Great Sea, that lack of commerce would cause suffering and shortages for as long as the enemy ships remained off the mouth of the river. Each day brought bitter complaints from the buyers and sellers in the marketplace. A new word had sprung up to describe the fleet of Akkadian ships menacing the city — blockade.
When the merchants’ complaints silenced, Jedidia ordered all of them out, leaving only the four men who had previously advised King Shirudukh. By Jedidia’s command, they now performed the same service to their new ruler. Whether they could come up with something useful remained to be seen. The advisors had said nothing while the boat owners vented their frustration, though they, too, as men of wealth, had suffered grievous losses from the Akkadian attack.
But before the doors to Jedidia’s Council Room could close behind the last departing trader, another commander entered. The man halted ten paces from Jedidia, bowed low, and waited to be recognized.
“Yes, what is it now?” Jedidia couldn’t keep the anger from his voice.
“My Lord, a man came to the Palace gates not long ago. He requested an immediate audience, and claimed he speaks for the Akkadians.”
King Jedidia glanced at his advisors, but they appeared just as surprised. He wondered what fool would dare to enter his presence after last night’s raid. “Bring the man in.”
The commander left the chamber for a few moments. He returned half-dragging a prisoner by the shoulder. The man’s hands were bound before him, and a large bruise discolored his left cheek. His once white tunic, covered with dirt and grass stains, attested to his rough treatment.
The oldest of the advisors, a wealthy merchant named Shesh-kala, chuckled at the sight, and Jedidia saw smiles on the faces of the other three. Obviously they recognized the captive.