Trella shifted her body slightly in her chair as she listened to the soldier’s tale. The meeting had lasted for some time, and her pregnancy had reached the stage where she felt uncomfortable if she sat too long. Into her seventh month, she already looked forward to the child’s birth. Her body kept distracting her with one thing or another, making it more difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Not that anyone in the room noticed.
Trella had grown very skillful at keeping her emotions and thoughts under control.
In the middle of her fi fteenth season, Trella’s fi gure would have been slender except for the coming child. She was slightly above average height; her hair was her best feature, very dark and thick, reaching just below her shoulders. A thin silver headband held the tresses away from her face, leaving cheeks and neck bare. Around her neck a loop of thin leather held a small gold coin, hidden between her breasts, a gift from Eskkar for saving his life. Aside from the unadorned fillet and necklace, she wore no other jewelry, though Akkad’s shopkeepers produced some of the finest bracelets, rings, and earrings sold on the river. Strangers tended to notice her eyes first, deep brown and set wide apart, which seemed to overlook nothing, as if they stared directly into your mind. Hardened soldiers twice her age often got flustered in her presence.
Not that her eyes revealed the power of her mind. Her father had trained her well, teaching his precocious daughter to listen, observe, and think. Her sharp wits did the rest. When anyone spoke, she listened intently while she watched his face, his hands, the shuffling of his feet, to better analyze his words. She perceived much by noting not only what men said, but how they said it and what they omitted. Few could hide the truth from her.
Many men underestimated her abilities at first, seeing only a young woman. Those who knew her did not. Trella possessed a presence of authority, an aura of domination. The barbarian clan Eskkar had befriended called her “a gifted one,” a term that designated a woman singled out by the gods, even allowed to speak at the council fires.
In Akkad, many thought the goddess Ishtar blessed her with special insight, a fact continually reinforced by Ishtar’s priest even as he took Trella’s gold. Others swore she’d learned the art of witchcraft, with the power to cast spells and control men’s souls. Trella smiled at all these ideas and did nothing to dispel any of them. Rather she used each to her advantage.
“And you are planning to return to my husband immediately, Drakis?”
“Yes, Lady Trella, as soon as I gather the supplies he requested. I must rejoin him before he reaches Bisitun.”
Gatus leaned forward across the table. “How many men did he leave behind in Dilgarth?” Seated at Trella’s right, Gatus, the new captain of the guard, commanded the garrison soldiers in Eskkar’s absence. An old man, already past his fiftieth season, Gatus had trained nearly every soldier in Akkad.
“He said he would leave three men,” Drakis replied. “The wounded man, plus two others. Lord Eskkar asked that you send more soldiers to Dilgarth as soon as you can, as well as craftsmen and whatever else you think best to help rebuild the village.”
“And he didn’t say why,” Gatus went on, “he wanted the ropes and oil?”
“No,” Drakis answered. “He just told me to bring ten coils of rope and as much of the black oil as I could carry on one spare horse, plus my mount.”
“I hope he’s not planning on burning Bisitun to the ground.” Corio, one of the Noble Families that helped rule Akkad, said the words only half in jest.
Trella turned to her left. Each day at least one of the city’s ruling families sat with Gatus and Trella to review any important matters. Today Corio represented the nobles at the council. Akkad now possessed seven such families, and the council room had scarcely enough space to hold all of them, though they rarely came together as a group.
A skilled artisan, Corio had designed and built Akkad’s wall, the wall that enabled Eskkar and his soldiers to defeat the barbarians. Undertaking that task had changed his status and brought him into the Noble Families.
Trella knew that many in Akkad, especially those critics unhappy with Eskkar, regarded Corio and his wall as the real saviors of the city.
“I’m sure that’s not his intention,” Trella said, smiling at Corio’s words.
“If it were, he would have said so.”
Corio nodded agreement. Those who worked closely with Eskkar knew he was not a subtle man. “And the oil will have to go in wineskins,”
Corio added. “It’s too easy to break pots on horseback, even if they’re well wrapped.”
“I don’t like this at all.” Gatus shook his head as he spoke. “There could be more men in Bisitun than Eskkar has with him, and this time they’ll be the ones behind a stockade. Maybe we should tell him to come back to Akkad. Bisitun can wait until we have more men.”
“Eskkar knows the situation, Gatus,” Trella said calmly, though she didn’t like it either. They had expected that Eskkar would encounter small, isolated bands of robbers and thieves, bandits who would flee before an organized force of fighting men. No one had foreseen a village full of armed men. Still, Trella had learned not to question her husband’s decisions on military issues. Eskkar had been fighting one battle or another for most of his thirty-odd seasons and he often saw things on the battlefield that another man would miss. And something told him he would need ropes and oil at Bisitun. That meant he thought he could capture Bisitun without too much loss of life.
“Drakis,” Trella began, “you say that after Shulat revealed his information, Eskkar remained on the roof for over an hour?”
“Yes, Lady Trella. Night had fallen, and the horseflesh was well cooked before he came down to join us. After he finished his meal, he gave me my instructions and told me to leave at dawn.”
One lesson Eskkar had learned well was the need to think and work out his campaigns in advance. Trella knew that if Eskkar thought about Bisitun that long, then he must have come up with a plan, and he would have weighed all the alternatives. She sighed to herself and shifted her weight once again. Short of an urgent plea to return, Eskkar would do whatever he decided. He would take too many chances, but that was the man he was.
“You will see to Drakis’s needs, Gatus?” If the man left at first light tomorrow, Trella reasoned, and the horses held up, Drakis would rejoin Eskkar just as he reached Bisitun.
“Yes, Lady Trella.” Gatus softened his gruff tone whenever he spoke to Trella. “I’ll make sure he has the two best horses left in Akkad, and an extra man or two for Dilgarth. And I think I’ll send another man with Drakis, to make sure he doesn’t fall off his horse, or wander off somewhere and get drunk.”
Everyone smiled at the jest. A member of the Hawk Clan, Drakis had proved himself steadier than most.
“Make sure you carry plenty of food with you, Drakis,” Trella said.
“But tonight you will eat and sleep at our house. You need to rest. You’ll be riding hard for at least four days.” She knew the words weren’t needed, that the man would do his duty regardless, but the effect achieved all she could wish.
The thought that the leader of Akkad worried about his dinner and sleeping arrangements brought an embarrassed flush to Drakis’s face. He stood up and bowed. “Thank you, Lady Trella. I will be honored.” He bowed again, this time to Gatus, and left the room.
Trella, Gatus, and Corio remained seated at the table in what had come to be called the Council House, a good-sized, one-level dwelling located only a few dozen paces from Akkad’s marketplace. Eskkar and the Noble Families met in the Council House to govern the fast growing city and manage its affairs. The structure contained only two large rooms: an inner chamber where the leaders met, and an outer room that functioned as a waiting area for those with council business. Three clerks worked there, to keep a record of what the council decided, and to keep track of those seeking to speak with the council. Two guards kept wary eyes on every visitor, and made sure no one brought a weapon into the inner room.