With two women working the cart, the business thrived, especially since En-hedu took but a tiny part of the profits. The selling took little effort, leaving her plenty of time to chat with Ninbanda and those who lived in the lane. En-hedu soon became familiar with Korthac’s men, even learning their names. After a few days she called out to them when they passed by, offering her wares, urging them to look and to buy.
She quickly learned not to attempt to speak with them when they walked with Korthac. The Egyptian showed no tolerance for those beneath him, and coldly berated any of his men who fraternized with the villagers. Of course, a woman selling in the streets was far below his notice, and after one glance at En-hedu’s disfigured face, he ignored her completely.
Korthac’s men, however, looked at her far differently. En-hedu knew the look of lust when she saw it, and the Egyptians all seemed to burn with it. Her broken nose didn’t matter to them. And not only her, but any woman in the lane. Their hot eyes devoured each woman they passed.
Men’s lusts were nothing new to En-hedu. She’d had to satisfy not only her former master, but some of his friends on more than one occasion. Spreading her legs, she’d closed her eyes and did what they commanded. Her old master had taught her to obey as soon as she reached his house. He raped her at once, not even bothering to close the door, then beat her for not pleasing him. The beatings continued every day, until she learned to obey every command instantly.
Remembering those times made her apprehensive. She knew Tammuz wanted to take her, and she dreaded the day when he could no longer restrain himself. A slave was bound to pleasure her master, and yet the thought of a man, even Tammuz, taking her, being inside her, brought back the painful memories.
After all these weeks, she’d learned to trust Tammuz, to let him hold her in the darkness, and she clasped his hand at every opportunity. Nevertheless, she wondered fretfully what Lady Trella would think, if she learned En-hedu hadn’t pleasured Tammuz-that she had failed in one of the most basic duties due her master.
Aside from that concern, she looked forward to the end of each day, when she returned to the alehouse. She’d soon discovered that old Kuri needed plenty of help dispensing the ale, especially in the evening hours.
He drank too much of his own wares, and easily lost track of what the customers consumed and paid. En-hedu kept a close watch on the stock, and cut down on the waste and spillage. Kuri gladly relinquished that part of his duties, and instead did his best to maintain order.
Naturally many customers wanted more than just ale, and solicita-tions for sex and worse initially followed her every step. Tammuz ordered one man out the first night for laying a hand on her, and Kuri did the same the following night. By then En-hedu had grown confi dent enough in her own strength. After she’d knocked down one drunken patron and threatened to bash his brains in with a stool, the regular patrons soon learned to leave her alone.
She was the owner’s slave, and he was keeping her for himself, a not entirely unreasonable thing to do. Once the customers grasped the odd fact that she was not for sale, they accepted her as one of themselves.
For herself, En-hedu came to enjoy the time spent behind the selling cart. Being outside, breathing fresh air, and enjoying the sun with little to do except watch the cart gave her more time to heal. The long days turned into weeks, and En-hedu and her leatherwares became as much a part of the lane outside Korthac’s residence as the walls, houses, and dirt underfoot, and just as unnoticed.
And so the days passed. En-hedu watched the Egyptians with care, always challenging them to purchase something from her cart. Some of them spoke only Egyptian, but many had picked up more than a few words of the local language. They remained subdued when Korthac walked about, but a week after his arrival in Akkad, Korthac began spending most of the daylight hours at the river. He set up a trading table there, and each day offered a handful of gems for sale or trade. Many Akkadians stopped at his table, as well as travelers, boatmen, and traders journeying up or down the Tigris.
That left most of his guards-as En-hedu soon came to think of them that way-with nothing to do except wait for their master’s return. She discovered they were not allowed to leave the house without Korthac or his senior assistant, a tall, bald-headed man named Hathor. Hathor also functioned as an occasional bodyguard, though there were other Egyptians who regularly guarded Korthac’s person.
Forbidden to walk the lanes, Korthac’s men lounged in the doorways, staring boldly at the women who passed by. For the braver ones, it only took a few steps to cross the lane and examine En-hedu’s merchandise and exchange a few words with her in their halting way. She made sure they always received a warm smile for their efforts.
“They seem to be waiting for something,” En-hedu said to Tammuz.
Each night, they sat alone in the dark of their bedroom or lay together in the bed, leaving Kuri to keep watch in the outer chamber while the customers snored on the floor.
“We know no more than we did last month,” Tammuz said, impatience and frustration showing in his voice. “Each week I send word to Trella we’ve learned nothing new.”
“We must wait a bit longer, Tammuz,” she said. “Korthac’s men are becoming more friendly. He can’t keep them in the houses forever.” By now she’d watched Korthac’s house for more than four weeks, and understood Tammuz’s frustration.
“I wish I could slip into the house at night, just to listen.”
“You know you cannot do that, Tammuz.” Since the incident on the roof, Korthac had added another sentry on the rooftop at night, and still had the usual guards at all the entrances. No doubt another one or two would be inside the main house, alert and awake. The extra guards didn’t arouse any suspicion to the rest of Akkad. Everyone knew Korthac possessed plenty of gold and gems, and naturally he would take precautions.
“Something will turn up, sooner or later,” she said, taking his hand and holding it close. “We just have to be ready when it happens.”
“Soon, I hope.”
“Soon, I’m sure. Now go to sleep, master.”
En-hedu waited as he tossed and turned, before finally falling asleep, his arm thrown over her chest. She let go of his hand, and thought about the man asleep in her arms. He needed to be pleasured, and soon. Frustrated by his inability to learn anything about Korthac, she knew Tammuz needed something else to think about. She sighed. Any day now, and she would have to do it, offer herself to him and endure the pain. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so painful with Tammuz. And better a little pain than facing Lady Trella’s disapproval.
11
I tell you, Trella, this is wrong. Asurak deserves his goods, and the council should support his claim. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise Asurak will have to pay what he agreed,” Corio cut in, the annoyance plain in his voice. “Which he should have done yesterday, instead of wasting the council’s time.”
The discussion, argument really, had gone on for some time, and Trella didn’t need to hear much to make up her mind. The dispute started at dawn, when the trader from Dilgarth tried to deliver his goods to Asurak.
The trader, Chuvash, had come down from Dilgarth yesterday with the first wagonload of raw flax. Two merchants had bid for the goods, and Asurak had proffered the higher price to Chuvash, with the goods to be delivered this morning.
Now Asurak claimed that, after a closer inspection, the goods were inferior, and only offered to pay fifteen silver coins, instead of the agreed-upon price of twenty-five. Within the hour, everyone in the marketplace knew the story. Trella, on her way to the council meeting, learned of it from Annok-sur, who’d heard it from one of the women in the market.