“Where shall we go?” En-hedu brushed against Tammuz as they stood in the doorway.
“To Trella’s house. We may be of some help there. You should stay
…”
“I’m going with you,” En-hedu said. She knew Tammuz didn’t want her to come, but they’d already discussed that before. Wherever he went, she was determined to be at his side. Without another word, she pushed past him and began walking down the lane, heading toward Lady Trella’s house.
“Any of you rogues want to fight, follow me,” Tammuz called out over his shoulder, as he followed after his woman.
Dawn would be upon them soon, En-hedu realized, looking at the fading stars overhead. All around them she heard the sounds of people jabbering to each other, asking what was happening, what they should do.
Over all the noise, they heard the sound of people cheering and shouting Eskkar’s name, and the occasional clash of weapons.
Tammuz caught up with En-hedu, taking the lead and weaving his way through the growing crowd. Three of Korthac’s men burst out of an alehouse in front of them, and stumbled down the lane, heading in the same direction. The lane soon crossed another, and the first man turned left, toward the barracks. To the right lay the way to Eskkar’s house.
She watched in horror as Tammuz put on a burst of speed, overtook the last of the three, and plunged his knife into the man’s back. Without pausing, Tammuz turned to the right, leaving the wounded man stumbling along for a few paces before he fell to the earth, crying out in pain. His two companions, disappearing into the darkness, never even noticed.
En-hedu ran as fast as she could, and managed to keep on Tammuz’s heels. Together they turned into the lane, to see Eskkar’s house just ahead.
Tammuz stopped suddenly. The street was filled with Korthac’s men, most of them Egyptians, roused from the nearby houses where they’d been housed. She watched them rush into Eskkar’s courtyard, and the sounds of fighting and men shouting rang out over the walls.
She caught Tammuz by the arm and held him with all her strength.
“You can’t. There are too many of them.” She felt frightened that he would rush headlong against them, his knife useless against so many swords.
“I see them,” he said with a curse. “Let’s go back.”
They turned and retraced their steps down the lane, away from the house. Overhead, the stars were winking out, as the first rays of true dawn began to break above them. Men milled about, and she saw two more of the invaders, swords in their hands, pushing their way through the crowd, heading toward Eskkar’s.
“Stay behind me,” Tammuz ordered.
En-hedu reached inside her dress, pulled the knife from its scabbard, and held it against her thigh. She felt her heart beating wildly against her ribs.
Tammuz shrank against the wall as the first of Korthac’s men ran past, but pushed himself out into the lane, into the second man’s path. Before the cursing Egyptian could shove Tammuz aside or raise his sword, Tammuz’s knife flashed upward into the man’s stomach, penetrating just under the rib cage. The man grunted, as much in surprise as pain at the unexpected blow. Before the man slid to the ground, Tammuz had already slipped beyond him, rushing down the lane, En-hedu at his side, looking back over her shoulder to make sure no one followed.
They found an open doorway and stepped within, watching the crowd move back and forth, everyone shouting and asking each other what to do.
Sounds of fighting increased, and En-hedu realized the noise was coming from several different directions.
Then she heard furious voices shouting in Egyptian, and she peered out to see a band of men moving down the lane, heading toward the gate.
She recognized Hathor’s voice rising above the din. The man’s speech seemed calm and controlled despite the chaos, as he gave orders and pushed the men along.
“Someone is ordering them toward the gate,” she said.
“There must be fighting there as well.” They crouched down as the force of invaders pushed by their doorway, breathing hard, cursing and yelling at each other. Before they could do anything, another half-dozen or so men ran past, following the first group and heading to the gate.
Tammuz pulled his hand free, and En-hedu knew what he planned.
When the last of Korthac’s men passed by, Tammuz slipped out behind the straggler, caught up with him in three strides, and struck him down.
With enough light to see now, and to her horror, she realized more foreigners were still coming. Tammuz saw the first one, who shouted out in Egyptian as he raised his sword and struck.
Tammuz ducked away from the blow, took another step back, and when the man moved toward him, raising his sword with a shout, Tammuz lunged forward with a blur of motion, extending his right arm and burying the knife into the man’s chest. The man cried out in pain, as the sword fell from his grasp, Tammuz’s knife striking true beneath the breastbone.
But the mortally wounded man collapsed forward, his momentum taking him into Tammuz, and knocking her master backward to the ground.
En-hedu heard the crunch as Tammuz’s head struck against the base of the wall as he landed, stunned, with the dead or dying man’s body nearly covering him.
Two more Egyptians ran up, one shouting something incomprehensible to the other. One swerved around his fallen comrades and kept going.
She saw Tammuz, dazed, trying to push the dead man off his chest with his one good hand. The second Egyptian raised his sword as Tammuz, still clutching his knife, struggled to free himself from beneath the body. The collision with the mud wall had stunned him, and the knife slipped from his trembling fingers.
En-hedu screamed as she jumped forward, raising her knife. The man saw her and dodged aside. He swung around, the sword cutting toward her head. She threw herself beneath it, rolling in the dirt and landing beside Tammuz, losing her grip on her own knife in the process. She twisted to her knees and threw herself across Tammuz, getting between him and the Egyptian. He would have to kill her first. She reached for the knife she’d dropped, but fumbled with the hilt, her eyes locked in horror on the man above her, watching as the sword swung down toward her head.
25
As Grond raced up the stairs, he heard the clash of swords and the sounds of fi ghting rising from the upper room. He’d killed two men on the lower floor, wasting precious time as his captain disappeared up the stairs. Luckily, he didn’t encounter any more guards. Now reaching the top of the landing, Grond found the door nearly closed, but ajar.
Just as he reached for it, the door flew open, jerked wide by someone within. Before Grond could react, a body slammed into him, knocking him backward onto the landing. To keep from falling off, Grond grappled with the man, who struggled with surprising strength, dropping underneath Grond’s arms and trying to push him off the landing and break free at the same time.
Grunting, Grond dropped his sword, unable to use it effectively, and wrapped both arms around the man. They spun around, perilously close to the landing’s edge, each man trying to twist free, neither able to use a weapon. Behind him, Grond heard footsteps on the stairs and men shouting in Egyptian. Enemy soldiers must have gotten past Mitrac and entered into the house. Grond redoubled his efforts to break free.
Instead his foot tripped on something and he fell to his knees. His attacker broke his grip and lurched toward the stairs. Grond flung himself at the man, caught his arm, and jerked him back, wrapping an arm about him.
Off balance, the man stumbled, but managed to drive a fist into Grond’s face. With a shout of rage, Grond reached out to grasp his assailant, who twisted violently. The effort took Grond past the edge of the landing, and he lost his balance. He fell, clutching his assailant and taking him with him.
Holding each other, they dropped nearly six feet. They crashed together onto the long table below, its solid planks doing little to break their fall. Momentum carried them off the table, and they rolled onto a bench and then to the floor, Grond taking most of the impact. He felt his breath knocked from his body. By the time Grond could move, his attacker had trod on his chest and reached the front door. The man unbarred it, shouted for help, and vanished into the courtyard.