“You’ll let the soldiers live?” Her question carried over the bickering, which quieted at her words.
Korthac detected no panic in her voice, only acceptance of the inevi-table. “Yes, as slaves. It’s that or they die.”
They had no choice, and it didn’t take Trella long to convince her guards. He heard the sound of the table dragging across the floor, and in a moment, the bar lifting from its braces. The door swung open to reveal Annok-sur standing there. Behind her stood four men, swords at the ready.
Korthac saw another man, wounded, lying against the wall.
“Tell them to put down their weapons and come out. You and Lady Trella will stay here.”
“Drop your swords, and obey him.” Lady Trella’s voice came from behind the men.
She sounded unafraid, but he’d soon change that.
The soldiers looked at each other, then tossed their swords to the floor in surrender.
“Tie them up, Ariamus. We’ll need good slaves.” Korthac meant his words. A few weeks working as tethered captives under the whip would find them more than willing to join his forces. With Eskkar dead and forgotten, trained fighting men would willingly join him.
Korthac watched as Ariamus and his men secured the soldiers, binding their hands and pushing them down the stairs, to join the other prisoners. In moments, only Trella and Annok-sur remained.
“I’ll send your servants up here, Trella. If you want them to stay alive, you’ll remain in the bedroom.”
“Why are you doing this?” Trella said.
Ignoring her question, he gave orders to have both the upper rooms searched and all weapons removed. Korthac left six of his men to watch over Trella, telling them in Egyptian to kill her if anyone attempted a rescue.
Moving downstairs, he found Ariamus and Hathor waiting for him.
“A messenger just came from Takany,” Hathor said, still holding a sword dripping with blood. “He’s taken the barracks and seized all the weapons. But men are holding out at the main gate.”
Hathor had done well, securing the entrance to Eskkar’s compound.
With Takany’s capture of the soldiers’ quarters, the most difficult objective had been achieved. The only real resistance could have come from the barracks. With that taken, the battle had ended. Korthac’s main goal had been to secure Trella alive and unharmed, so that he could use her to force the inhabitants to his will.
“Ariamus, leave twenty of your men here,” Korthac said. “Take the rest and guard the river gate. Make sure no horses leave the city. Watch the boats and the river as well.”
Korthac turned to Hathor. “Take your men to the main gate. Keep whatever soldiers are left penned up there. Put archers on the walls, to make sure no one leaves the city. When Takany gets here, we’ll bring our men to the main gate and finish the last of the resistance. Afterward, we can begin hunting down any who’ve escaped. By dawn, the city will be mine.”
Unsure of what to do, Tammuz and En-hedu stood there with a dozen others, even after the fighting ended, watching events unfold. Along with a few dozen of Akkad’s stunned citizens, Tammuz and En-hedu had seen Korthac capture Eskkar’s house. Whatever warning Tammuz might have given would likely have arrived too late. By the time he’d convinced anyone of the danger, Korthac’s men would have struck.
Just when Tammuz decided they’d best return to the alehouse, armed men poured out of Eskkar’s house.
Tammuz and En-hedu, like all the frightened villagers, shrank against the wall or into nearby homes while the fierce-looking Egyptians marched by, many with blood still on their swords. After all the invaders had passed, with En-hedu holding his left arm, Tammuz followed behind them, keeping back a safe distance. When they reached the open area before the main gate, he and En-hedu could see that the archers in the towers had refused to surrender. As they watched, shafts flew at the invaders, pushing them back into the lane.
“Wait here,” Tammuz said, nudging En-hedu into a doorway. He slipped as close to the rear of the Egyptians as he dared. He heard Hathor and Korthac talking, along with another man they called Takany, who seemed to be Korthac’s second in command. The three men spoke briefly, but always in Egyptian, and Tammuz had no idea of what they said.
When Korthac finished, Hathor raced off back up the lane toward Eskkar’s house. Tammuz watched as Korthac and Takany positioned their men, to make sure no reinforcements could reach the gate or towers, and to prevent the soldiers within from escaping. Then Korthac stood there, waiting.
Before long, Hathor returned, leading a dozen men carrying torches and escorting Lady Trella, her hands bound together with a leather thong and escorted by two grinning Egyptians who held her by the arms as they hurried her along. They took her directly to where Korthac waited. He spoke to her, then slapped her across the face before taking hold of her wrist and twisting it until she cried out.
Appearing satisfied at Trella’s reaction, Korthac pushed her into Hathor’s arms. “Take her to the gate,” Korthac ordered, speaking in Akkadian to make sure Trella understood his words. “If the soldiers don’t surrender, kill her.”
Stunned at Trella’s treatment, Tammuz watched as Hathor led Lady Trella out into the open space behind the gate.
“Soldiers of Akkad,” Hathor shouted, his powerful voice echoing throughout the area. “If you don’t lay down your weapons and surrender, Lady Trella will be put to death, and then we’ll kill everyone in the towers.”
Tammuz saw that Hathor stood beside Trella, an easy shot for most of the archers in the tower. But everyone knew what would happen to Trella if an arrow struck him down. Hathor waited a few moments, then called out again. “For the last time… surrender now, and you will live.”
He pushed Trella forward. “Tell them.”
“Soldiers, come down from the towers.” Trella’s voice carried easily to the walls. “Don’t resist. Save your own lives.”
Tammuz shook his head. Never had he thought such a thing could happen.
“Korthac’s too wise to stand out there in the open, where an arrow could take him,” En-hedu said, watching the spectacle. She’d ignored Tammuz’s order to stay behind and moved up to join him. “He lets Hathor take the risk of dying.”
“This is bad,” Tammuz said. “The guards will have to surrender.”
“We should get back to the alehouse,” En-hedu whispered. “We can’t do anything here. They may start killing everyone in the streets.”
“As soon as I see what happens. I have to make sure.”
Shouting voices came from the towers, but the debate didn’t last long.
The twenty or thirty men, divided between the towers and outnumbered by at least five times their strength, had no choice but to yield. Without weapons, food, and water, they couldn’t hold out. At Trella’s urging, they put down their weapons and filed from the tower.
By then Tammuz had seen enough. With all resistance ended, the terror would begin. “Let’s get out of here, before the looting starts.”
He hurried En-hedu along, his knife held tight against his side. But they didn’t encounter any of Korthac’s men, and soon reached Tammuz’s establishment, as dark as every house on the lane. No one would burn even the smallest lamp tonight, afraid to attract any attention from their new masters.
A worried Kuri let them into the alehouse, sword in hand, and barred the door behind them. Only a faint glow from the fireplace embers gave any illumination.
Tammuz peered into the common room, but saw no one.
“I chased them all out, and told them not to return until morning,”
Kuri said. “They’ll be busy enough, picking up whatever they can steal in all this confusion.” Using a shard of pottery, he lifted a glowing ember from what remained of the fire, and carried it into Tammuz’s private room, where he touched it to the oil lamp.
He blew on it gently, until a tiny flame appeared, enough to reveal another presence waiting for them.
“What’s happening out there?” Gatus lay across Tammuz’s bed, one hand clutching his side, his voice weak and full of pain. His still-bloody sword lay beside him, close to his hand.