XIX
Areshen grasped Eta's hand and walked back into
Ur, "inside" as Eta termed it, though Areshen shared her regret having to
do so. He still, however, was not yet ready to turn his back on Ur.
Nippur, ten months ago, had been well and thoroughly sacked, its populace
not slaughtered en mass, perhaps, though dispersed to a sufficiently large
number of other cities, robes of state stripped from those who had worn
them. Whatever new Nippur became, it would not be the same as old Nippur
had been.
The siege of Nippur had been a short one, however,
Isime's first and only assault on the walls little more than and hour's
work in which most of his men had not even raised a decent sweat. Nine of
every ten residents within the walls of Nippur had probably discovered
that their city had indeed been sacked only when one of Shulitu's soldiers
approached their looms or pottery kilns or the like. Nor, as old Nippur
was marched out onto open fields surrounding the city, would a great many
have thought to turn and ask the soldier behind them - why, a question
most of the soldiers could not have answered in the first place.
Areshen grasped Eta's hand with emotional warmth,
quite aware that he was beginning to receive as much as he gave whenever
he shared her company. Areshen glanced again about Ur now pressing on all
sides, servants, laborers for the most part, very few who might care to
ask why. Even now a number of people on the streets of Ur still spoke of
Shubari's demise; some knew others who knew someone who had actually seen
the High Priest plunge from the heights of the temple. A few people wore
expressions of wonder, a few more expressions of amusement asking how fast
Shubari was flapping his arms as he attempted to fly like a bird from the
temple's first terrace. None, however, to Areshen's curious amaze,
displayed any great concern for the matter. Ur, Areshen realized as he
and Eta edged their way past another boisterous crowd in front of a small
alley shrive, did not appear remarkably different now than it had two
months before when he and Eta had first climbed from their donkey's back.
To nine of ever ten people he and Eta now passed,
the events of the past two months might have been meaningful only had they
been marched by armed soldiers onto the surrounding plain believing
themselves about to be slaughtered, very few placing much credence in
rumors that Nippur's populace had not been put to the sword.
"Most of them," Areshen had commented ten months
ago in Nippur as he and Meshduri gazed toward the milling crowds wandering
across open fields, "make bricks and emptied chambers pots. I see no
reason to slaughter them."
"Sack a city without a general slaughter,"
Meshduri had asked in amaze. "A great many people will consider that a
rather radical innovation in both social and Holy Order. Still, I suppose
the blasphemous king of Isin could get away with it."
Gipul of Elam, however, was a king who believed in
tried and true methods when it came to warfare.
"The only way to ensure that Shubari is completely
eradicated from Ur," Gipul had stated, "is to sack it using more
conventional means. Fire can be a remarkably effective cleansing agent.
It is the only way to remove an infestation from every single niche and
crevice in which it hides and be certain that it does not break out
somewhere else. Besides, it is only a craven coward who expects to go on
living once his king has been defeated. Had I been among the crowds
standing beneath the walls of Nippur ten months ago, I'd have run myself
through with my sword. Not one of those cowards, however, not a single
one did so. How sick and perverse society has become, Areshen."
Walking finally into the courtyard of Setiluth's
house, Areshen dismissed both Nippur and Ur from his mind, took Eta once
more into embrace, then held her at arm's length for a long, final
moment. Only with a great deal of effort could he still see much about
Eta which resembled a child. Nor, when Areshen found Eta without
hesitation and certainly without question taking the initiative in their
parting kiss, did he feel anything but a woman's strength in the passion
of her touch. Areshen again raised his eyes to Eta's, the portal leading
to the chamber where she had several dozen times informed him that she
slept, obvious and glaring at the edge of his vision.
"Father," Setiluth had informed him several dozen
more times, "you are being ridiculous. Had Eta been taken into
concubinage by any other civil or military governor across Sumer and
Akkad, she would be expecting her first child by now. And how often have
you declared it ludicrous that I, eighteen, have not born you three or
four grandchildren already?"
Eta, quite as brilliant as anyone with whom
Areshen had shared emotional intimacy, picked the thought from his mind on
the instant, a sultry glance toward the bedchamber herself, her eyes as
quickly awash with frantic pleading as she crushed her hands onto his.
Areshen returned the embrace, quite aware that he was giving up, his
resolution collapsed, would lead Eta into the bedchamber, would, he told
himself, be gentle as he consummated their marriage. Again Eta discerned
Areshen's thought on the instant, wild anticipation now in her features.
"Beloved, please," she whispered.
Eta just as quickly, however, found herself
struggling with her disappointment as indecision once more settled into
Areshen's features.
At least another year, Areshen sighed. Give her
one more year to be a child, and gentle acceptance replaced the
disappointment in Eta's eyes, a soft, emotional smile as she leaned
forward, her final kiss easy, unforced affection.
Only when Areshen had once more pushed his way
onto the streets of Ur could he see a child's features in his mind. He
loved Eta, affectionately, yes, but he was falling quite as passionately
in love with her as well. How in the name of the gods, Areshen finally
sighed as he lifted a beer in front of Heluth's tavern in Shensulith
Square, had the man who had never even taken a single concubine fallen so
deeply in love with three wives, one of them not yet thirteen years old?
"There's nothing wrong with it," young Teru
answered a few minutes later as he stood beside Areshen, a cup in his own
hand. "My second wife is only fifteen, just two years a woman. We waited
the full year traditional among the steppe tribes."
"It just seems strange to me, Teru. Is there a
point in time, a specific season, when she is no longer a child?"
"You will know when," Teru chuckled. "And don't
second guess yourself when you've decided. Even after you have
consummated your marriage, you will at times still see a child. And Eta
is a very brilliant young woman, Areshen, has been a joy whenever she
visits my house. And you would be surprised how often it is you who
appears a child through her eyes. At times my fifteen year old wife
thinks me only slightly more mature than our two month old son, will not
hesitate to tell me so when she thinks I may profit by it."
Areshen broke into a soft chuckle, deciding to
dismiss all of this until later.
"Does not your god, Teru," Areshen then asked in
easy amusement, "disapprove of your patronizing Shetur - Sethur -
whoever?" Areshen nodding toward Heluth's beer god in the tavern's wall
niche.
"I have an understanding with Heluth," and Teru
exchanged a quick, mischievous smile with the ever exotic young tavern
mistress. "Whatever I give Heluth in payment for my beer goes into her
own purse, not into Sethurisu's."
"Heluth," Areshen began, an expression of
formality and righteous indignation in his features as he leaned forward
toward a young tavern mistress with whom he had spent many hours in
intimate, usually slightly drunken conversation.
"Military governor?" Heluth asked as she leaned
forward as well.
"You are under arrest."
Heluth choked a quick laugh, as usual, however,
sensual intrigue in her eyes a quick moment later.
"You will take me into custody yourself, won't
you, Areshen? The judges will certainly sell me into your own household
for my crimes."
Areshen broke into an easy expression of amusement
as Heluth refilled his cup, glancing for a quick moment toward the six
foot chamber at the rear of the tavern in which Heluth slept, a chamber in
which he had slept himself on any number of occasions over the past few
years whenever darkness had caught him still standing at the tavern board
with cup in hand. Heluth, Areshen realized as he again lifted his cup and
pondered a close friend now in conversation with another customer, was
another he would take into his household the instant he thought doing so
necessary to save her from some real harm. Like Kinshith, however,
Heluth's was an independent spirit.
"I'm doing all right now," Heluth had stated the
last time she had carried Areshen to the rear of the tavern, then in
mirthful laughter dropped his body onto the sleeping cushions.
"I can find my way home - " Areshen had protested
in stammering, drunken apology, grateful, however, when Heluth just pushed
him back down onto the cushions. Areshen was quite aware that Heluth, in
order to provide an inebriated military governor a place to sleep it off
for the night, was doing so at considerable expense to herself. Heluth,
far and away the most attractive tavern mistress in this part of Ur, was
turning away any number of customers who would pay a temple prostitute's
fee for fifteen minutes with her in the back chamber of her tavern.
"You can't even walk, military governor," Heluth
just laughed as she lowered herself into Areshen's arms for the night.
"How could you find your way home? Besides, I'm tired. No customers
tonight. I will just dream of the day when it is you who will own me."
Areshen finally relenting, pulled Heluth into
affectionate embrace, regretted, he supposed, that he had very little to
give her in return for her hospitality. Neither the military governor of
Ur's throne nor the throne of Isin were positions enabling the
accumulation of any substantial wealth, certainly not to the extent that a
High Priest's or Priestess’s throne was.
"Heluth," Areshen still proclaimed, "never doubt
that if you need to, you can come to me. I could speak to Setith, and she
never refuses me assistance - "
"I know, sweet Areshen," Heluth answered with an
emotional smile as she raised a caressing hand to his forehead, her kiss,
however, tentative and questioning, Heluth even after years of emotional
friendship still doubting, Areshen supposed, that someone such as he could
ever feel genuine sensual affection for someone such as her. For whatever
reason, and certainly Holy Order was no reason, he in fact did, the
affection he felt for Heluth very real even if he didn't know why. As
soon as he felt the touch of her lips to his own, both his own and
Heluth's positions in life were no longer of any importance to him
whatsoever.
Heluth was another, however, who had said "no" on
several occasions, even on occasions when palace and temple officials had
issued indebtedness warrants for her arrest.
"Areshen," Heluth had pled in tears that last
evening they had passed together a little more than a year ago now, “I owe
you too much already."
"You don't owe me anything, Heluth," Areshen had
answered, attempting gentle humor. "We both owe Setith - "
"You know what I mean, Areshen," settling
amusement in Heluth's voice, hers the exotic smile for which she was known
in and about Shensulith Square. "I do love you, Areshen, but you are
still Areshen of Isin. Perhaps in a year or two you will ask me to become
your wife again. Perhaps by then I will be able to say yes."
Areshen emerged from the sometimes painful, though
usually pleasant memories, then glanced another moment toward Heluth at
the tavern door, Heluth now in flirting conversation with a young,
expensively attired palace scribe, obviously the next back chamber
customer. Areshen lowered his cup to the tavern board and exchanged a
final smile with Heluth, felt, as he did so, that same emotional warmth
when he noticed the practiced and affected warmth in Heluth's eyes for the
benefit of her customer settle into something far more genuine as soon as
she turned toward him.
Areshen stepped onto the streets of Ur once more,
glanced without feeling a great deal of energetic enthusiasm in both
directions, and then turned for the Sacred Area. Teru, several minutes
ago in front of Heluth's, had stated that he was scheduled to appear in
the Gate of Judgment in order to defend himself against charges leveled by
the master of another scribal school a short distance from his own.
Teru's god stood accused of harassing the patron god of his competitor's
school, a competitor who had lodged similar charges on numerous occasions
over the past few years. The lower courts, as usual, had dismissed the
case against Teru and his god, Teru's defense little more than a standard
reiteration of Sumerian legal precedent and social custom which held that
no one should suffer persecution based simply on matters of belief in a
particular god. Even when, on several past occasions, the case had been
appealed all the way up to the Gate of Judgment by Teru's competitor, the
High Priest Shubari, most likely because there was no profit in the matter
one way or another, had simply let stand the decisions of the lower courts
in which Teru and his god had been acquitted. Since it was now Setiluth
who sat in the Gate of Judgment and would hear the latest appeal, Areshen
supposed the proceeding would at least be something to alleviate his
boredom for a few minutes, would be an opportunity to see exactly what it
was that a High Priestess of Ur did. Before his own daughter had been
installed, Areshen had never before been interested in the least.
And old Meneturu in this morning's dispatch from
Shar Dulur had with sincere expressions of regret and remorse once more
informed Areshen that there were no wars of consequence along the
frontiers demanding the king's attention. A few tribes of particularly
primitive hunters armed only with stone tipped arrows and spears calling
themselves Arunyu had wandered into Asshur from somewhere even further to
the distant reaches of the north, interesting, perhaps a bit of
excitement, but no matter of great concern. The commanders of those Six
Hundreds which Meneturu had sent north into Asshur in order to remind
another King of the Four Quarters that his title was a titular and
honorary one, reported their encounters with the wandering Arunyu to be
fascinating, a people who now sought caves in Asshur's northern mountains
in which to live, stating that they had been chased from their own caves
in the far north by an angry bear spirit or some such thing equally as
humorous. Perhaps, Areshen shrugged as he climbed the Sacred Area's south
portal, he would drive north himself later this year once he was certain
that Setith and Setiluth faced no major problems in Ur and the south.
Areshen walked across the Sacred Area in the
shadows of the High Priestess' palace, the towering walls of the temple
itself now dominating the view. Since the rainy season, which had never
come this year anyway, was now over, the High Priestess' throne had been
erected on the exterior steps which led up to the palatial Gate of
Judgment, a sizable crowd of advocates and supplicants waiting for their
own cases to be called, most in the crowd standing in quiet conversation
throughout the Assembly Area.
Areshen glanced toward the throne platform for a
quick moment, an expression of alert, intelligent interest in Setiluth's
features as advocates argued the current case a few paces from the Gate of
Judgment's steps. Areshen then idled toward Setith sitting on a stone
bench near the periphery of the Assembly Area, Setith's attire still the
simple battle dress of a northern queen, a half dozen soldiers attached to
the garrison of Isin armed with short sword standing in close proximity.
And on the same bench next to Setith, to Areshen's initial wonder, sat
Ibisien, king of Ur, the ever present cup of wine in his hand, the
perfumed polish in his features quite as carefully and delicately arranged
as always. Ibisien's half dozen male attendants also standing in close
proximity were the same perfect study in feminine poise and allure, their
eyes constantly and obviously straying in that which appeared sensual
admiration toward Setith's soldiers.
"Beloved," Areshen began as he pressed a quick,
affectionate kiss to Setith's cheek. "King," Areshen then stated, nodding
his head in one quick movement of submission, watching the glint of
appreciation settle into Ibisien's eyes.
"Areshen," Ibisien began, that same note of
whining complaint in his voice, "you promised that I would accompany you
when you invaded the temple. They tell me that Shubari's flight from the
first terrace was magnificent. And I missed it. You did not come and get
me as you promised, military governor. I will never forgive you."
"I'm sorry, king," Areshen answered with an
expression of amusement as he lowered himself onto the stone bench beside
Setith, Setith quite purposefully between himself and Ibisien. "The whole
thing was a matter of the moment."
Ibisien released a long, relenting sigh, snapped
his fingers, and Areshen nodded appreciation toward the wine steward who
had appeared on the instant.
"I suppose it was," Ibisien agreed with another
long sigh, then turned toward Setith. "But this makes up for it," and
Areshen watched in amazement for entrancement in Ibisien's features as he
reached for Setith's hand, a woman's hand, and raised it to his lips.
"The queen of Isin," Ibisien crooned, "is magnificent."
"King," Setith chuckled as Ibisien lingered over
her hand, "you are far too gracious."
"Never, my beautiful mountain warrior of such
exquisite poise and charm," and Ibisien turned again toward Areshen.
"Some day, military governor, it may come to pass that the Lady Setith
will appear beneath the walls of Ur with her armies. She will have me
tied naked onto her chariot beside her. She will whip the horse into a
gallop. Then, her long dark hair flying in the breeze, she will turn
toward me, whip in hand, and oh how she will punish me, Areshen. She will
not stop doing so until she has carried me all the way back to Isin and
into captivity. Then she will lock me behind the walls of Shar Dulur.
There she will kick me every night as I beg for mercy at her feet. It
will be a cruel fate, Areshen, but I am the king of Ur. I shall suffer
that fate nobly, no matter how many times the Lady Setith strips the
clothing from my body in order to punish me," and Areshen couldn't help
but notice the shudder pass through Ibisien's frame, something very much
like entranced anticipation, however, clearly hinted in his features.
Areshen choked back his amusement as he raised his cup, wondering if
Ibisien considered the prospect of captivity in Setith's hands as exciting
as the possibility of falling captive to Gipul of Elam.
"Perhaps, king," Setith began with the trace of
amusement in her own features, "such - cruelty will not be necessary. We
have, in our discussions, made a great deal of progress over the past few
hours."
"Perhaps not," Ibisien sighed with less than
subtle regret in his features as he snapped his fingers, the wine stewards
filling his own and Setith's cups this time. "Well, where were we? The
village of Ketilum - " and Areshen listened with rapidly waning interest
as Setith and Ibisien spoke numbers back and forth to each other. As far
as Areshen could determine, Ibisien was selling assets held by the palace
of Ur in order to maintain the facade that it was a palace in the first
place. In the end, Setith's and Ibisien's discussion became very much a
mystery to Areshen, though he couldn’t help but notice something genuine
in Ibisien's expressions of concern for those who fell under his care,
noticed as well Setith's remarks of approval for Ibisien's concerns.
That, Areshen supposed, was the reason he had never felt any great concern
over the fact that Ibisien, at least when sober enough to do so, sat Ur's
throne.
Setith's and Ibisien's financial discussion now
unintelligible, Areshen once more turned his attention toward Setiluth
seated on the throne platform, a half dozen scribes at surrounding tables
meticulously recording the proceedings, advocates with arms raised in all
manner of theatrical gesticulation delivering impassioned speeches.
"Write," Setiluth pronounced as the speakers
concluded and she turned toward the scribes, "that I find for the
prosecution. Next," and a half dozen advocates, both the winners and the
losers though Areshen wasn't in the least certain which were which, bowed
in ritual formality as they retreated from the throne platform into the
crowd, none of them, winners or losers, daring the least hint of
dissatisfaction with the High Priestess of Ur's decision. A quick moment
later, another half dozen advocates, young Teru among them, emerged from
the crowd and approached the Gate of Judgment's steps.
For another very long minute, as far as Areshen
could see, nothing very important seemed to be happening at all, and he
spent that long minute pondering the north once again, deciding that an
excursion into its mountain wilds with a few Six Hundreds of foot and
chariot might not be a bad way to pass a few months this summer. It would
certainly be a great deal less boring that all of this, Setith and Ibisien
discussing bricks and sacks of grain, Setiluth on the throne platform now
in quiet conversation with several old, bearded officials he had noticed
once or twice during his impromptu wanderings through the High Priestess'
palace. Teru and the advocates waiting to present their cases stood next
to the tables mumbling back and forth to scribes and priests of one sort
or another.
Most definitely not a military tribunal, Areshen
sighed an incredible fifteen minutes later when still nothing very
exciting seemed to be happening. Sitting behind a field tent conducting a
military court, Areshen or any other Six Hundred commander would easily
have disposed of a half dozen cases by now, most people in attendance
suspecting that the case would be decided in favor of whichever advocate
could rattle out the greatest number of words in the shortest length of
time.
Finally, Areshen sighed in resignation as he
realized he had nowhere else to go at the moment anyway, the bearded
officials retreated from the throne platform, and Setiluth waved an arm
toward the advocates to her right.
"You may prosecute," Setiluth stated. Areshen
again found himself restraining wondering amusement as he watched an
elderly advocate of polished, dignified appearance dressed in expensive,
ostentatious robes of state step forward, his pace pompous and time
consuming. An advocate in any tribunal over which Areshen had presided
would have belched out at least a hundred words by now, several hundred
more in the time it took this temple advocate at the center of
civilization to finish his sweeping and magnificent bow toward Setiluth.
Areshen could not help but notice, however, that Setith and Ibisien had
suspended their financial deliberations in order to follow the proceedings
at the throne. Apparently Teru's case was to be an interesting one.
"High Priestess of Nanna - " the elderly advocate
finally began, and continued, a ponderous list of titles, "noble mistress
of Ningal's household, beloved daughter of divinity, consort of the gods -
" and Areshen found himself shifting his weight on a stone bench made from
incredible hard stone, annoyed that neither Setith nor Ibisien seemed to
notice how much harder the stone had become over the past fifteen minutes.
When the elderly advocate finally concluded the
list of Setiluth's titles, however, his argument against Teru was
relatively easy to follow. The god in a scribal school a short distance
from Teru's had been found laying on the floor, smashed.
"He," the advocate declared, righteous indignation
in features carved of stone as he pointed an accusing arm toward Teru, "is
responsible, he and his malicious god. Master Teru makes no secret of the
fact that his god refuses to live in amicable accord with the gods of
Sumer. Young Teru refuses to sacrifice to the gods of Sumer. He refuses
even to reveal the name of his god," and there followed another forty five
minutes of similar discourse delivered in vehement, argumentative tones,
the fact that Teru refused to honor Sumer's gods quite obviously the basis
for this latest series of suits brought against him. The prosecuting
advocate also seemed to consider the fact that Teru seldom participated in
Ur's social and cultural life key evidence pointing toward Teru's guilt,
the oration concluding with a plea that Teru's school be required to
conform to standards mandated for scribal schools affiliated with the
temple or be closed.
Areshen glanced from Setiluth on the throne
platform to Setith and Ibisien on the stone bench beside him and wondered
if anyone else had reached the same conclusion he had reached. Teru's
competitor was simply trying to eliminate the competition, a god laying
smashed on the floor the means chosen to do so.
"Is this not a very simple case?" Areshen mumbled
as he turned toward Setith with hesitant question in his features.
"Yes, it is," Setith agreed, then returned a soft
smile for Areshen's pleased expression of surprise, concern, however, in
her features a quick moment later. "There are complications, however, the
prosecuting advocate chief among them. He is a Shubari, a prominent in
the faction. He is not here today to drive a competitor from business.
He is here searching for any sign of weakness in Setiluth's composure,
weakness which he and his ilk will exploit in the future."
Areshen glanced in confusion toward the polished
and dignified prosecuting advocate standing near the scribe's tables, and
again pondered the magnificence of the bow he had rendered to Setiluth,
his long and eloquent recitation of her titles. In the end, Areshen
realized, he just didn't know. Military courts were nothing like this
grand and imposing tribunal at the center of civilization. Advocates
appearing before military courts dispensed entirely with the trappings of
ceremonial formality in order to pack several hundred more words into the
time allotted them by a scowling army officer wrapping his knuckles in
impatience on the judge's table. If any sort of challenge had been made
toward Setiluth by the prosecuting advocate now identified as a Shubari,
Areshen was quite aware that would probably have missed it entirely,
despite the tortuously slow pace of the proceedings. Setith, however,
would not, and Areshen again turned back to his wife, question in his
eyes, understanding in Setith's.
"Nothing untoward," Setith continued, "has yet
happened. I've chosen to sit on this bench today in order to be certain
that it does not," and Setith lay a gentle hand to Ibisien's arm, the king
of Ur's eyes a bit more glazed than they had been a cup or two ago, though
still by and large lucid. "And the king, well know to be no admirer of
Shubari, very graciously accepted my invitation to sit at my side, no
small part of the reason why Shubari the prosecuting advocate and Shubari
scattered throughout the gallery are behaving themselves toward Setiluth."
"King," Areshen stated, "I am grateful."
"I suppose," Ibisien answered, the expression in
his features once more conveying something far different than did his
words, "I will, for my services, be spared one or two lashes from this
beautiful creature’s whip when she appears beneath the walls of my palace,
binds me hand and foot, strips the clothing - "
"Perhaps," Setith chuckled, "perhaps Gipul of Elam
will precede me to Ur."
"Yes, perhaps," Ibisien answered, theatrical
remorse in his features, erotic delight just as evident in his eyes. "Oh
Areshen, have I told you of the cruel and awful fate which awaits me when
Gipul of Elam appears with his armies. A terrible fate awaits me, Gipul -
so huge and powerful. A cruel fate which I will suffer with kingly
nobility."
"Certainly," Areshen just answered, no longer
certain how to arrange his own features.
"And my dear," Ibisien continued as he turned back
to Setith, "did I not tell you that the king your husband might very well
sit at your side this morning?"
"Yes, king, you did," and Setith turned toward
Areshen with smiling question.
"I was bored," Areshen shrugged. "Nowhere else to
go; nothing else to do."
"Nonetheless," and Ibisien waved a dismissing hand
toward the prosecuting advocate and his colleagues in the Assembly Area,
"awful, awful Shubari has for once behaved himself exceptionally well,"
and Ibisien waved an arm in the air, this time sloshing wine toward the
soldiers standing on either side of the throne platform. "They still wear
my colors. You are far too kind to me, Areshen. Most of them, however,
are quite obviously Isin's soldiers rather than Ur's. Look at them,
formidable, powerful - " dreamy wonder in Ibisien's eyes. "Oh what a
thrashing just one of them could give me. He'd lift me onto his knee - "
Areshen listened in idle amusement, Ibisien gazing
toward Setiluth's guard with a deep, wistful sigh, snapping his fingers a
quick moment later. Areshen finally broke into a soft chuckle as Ibisien
thrust his cup into the air, the wine stewards obviously expected to
anticipate its exact location at any given moment, to replenish it no
matter how unbalanced and uncooperative the hand holding it. Areshen
glanced toward the Assembly Area for another long minute, sighing himself
when he realized that no one other than himself seemed in the least
concerned for the outrageous length of time which had elapsed since
anything important had happened.
"Gipul of Elam," Areshen finally continued in a
speculative, searching voice, "also names Shubari that which he believes
to be a threat to both Ur and Elam. He tried to explain it all to me,"
and Areshen gazed with question toward Ibisien and Setith, waiting for
either. It was Ibisien, unusual, thoughtful solemnity in his eyes, who
answered.
"The law code my great grandfather wrote when he
came to power in Ur was, in several of its parts, a rather remarkable
innovation in Sumer. Prior to that, Shubari ruled untethered, had ruled
so for many, many centuries, and could never never make up his mind, one
god with this to say, another with that. The widow and the orphan were
provided for if Shubari and company were in a good mood; they starved if
he was not. Shubari, however, has always been a very fat man, his
granaries stuffed, advocates in every court to guard his stuffed
granaries. A hundred years ago, Urnammu with his law codes tried to
rescue the widow and the orphan from fat, fat Shubari's whims. As I say,
an innovative document, the law code, parts of it applying to everyone no
matter what their class. That which was just yesterday, my great
grandfather said, is still just today. That which is unjust will no
longer be called just simply because Inurumen, Urnammu's Shubari, has
changed his mind," and again Ibisien sloshed his cup toward the
prosecuting advocate. "He's read the law; he had to in order to become
and advocate. But he's still a Shubari, an Inurumen, my great grandfather
would have called him. Thank the gods you and Gipul tossed fat, fat, fat
Shubari over the side of the temple. Oh how I regret having missed it."
Areshen broke into a soft chuckle, then turned
when Teru finally approached the throne platform, Teru's gestures and
opening salutations toward Setiluth quite as ostentatious and elaborate as
those which had been proffered by his opponent.
"Noble High Priestess of Ur," Teru then continued,
"the prosecution's case against me was a masterful and time consuming
exercise in pointless triviality. I do not sacrifice to Sumer's gods. I
do not participate in festivals dedicated to gods other than my own. I
follow my own counsel in the conduct of my affairs and in those of the
school I operate. Since when has any of this ever before been called into
question? Unless I have missed something along the way, I, a free man
indebted to no one, may if I choose to do so, ignore and be ignored by the
society in the midst of which I live. Has this not always been Sumer's
way? Is not just the thought of imposing one's intentions and beliefs on
someone not a member of their own household still repugnant in Sumer? The
people of Sumer have built great houses for themselves and their gods, dug
magnificent canals, raised powerful armies to defend themselves along the
frontiers. But the people of Sumer have never taken anything away from
others who live among them. I do not believe, noble and learned Setiluth,
that you will take my house and my school away from me. Perhaps in the
future the people of Sumer will no longer be a gentle and tolerant people,
will indeed try to take away from others that which does not belong to
them, justifying such behavior by spouting the sort of nonsense we have
all heard a few minutes ago from the prosecution. I do not believe,
however, that that day has yet come. Perhaps in the future Shubari may
yet prevail, and free people will be forced to conform to standards which
are foreign and loathsome to them. Certainly, noble Setiluth, that
despicable day has not yet come. And as to a god laying smashed and
broken on the floor, I suspect the inattentive hand of a cleaning girl
rather than any divine touch the explanation."
Areshen choked back his laughter as Teru bowed and
stepped back from the throne, though he suspected the hint of amusement in
just about everyone else's eyes, including Setiluth's as she sat in a long
minute's speculative thought, raising an arm finally toward the scribes.
"Write," Setiluth pronounced, "that I find for the
defense. Next, please."
Areshen watched with curious interest as Teru and
the other advocates offered their gestures of obeisance toward Setiluth,
the same gestures performed by the advocates who had argued the previous
case. Only when he became aware of Setith's and Ibisien's quick, startled
gasps, however, did he notice that the prosecuting advocate stood erect, a
subtle though obvious expression of defiance in his features as he
twisting searching eyes about the crowd in the Assembly. With this,
Areshen finally decided that he had had quite enough of civilization at
its center, and pushed himself angrily to his feet.
"Do your bowing thing," Areshen shouted toward the
elderly prosecuting advocate, said individual's defiance collapsing on the
instant when he recognized the king of Isin no longer sitting in the
shadows. "Do your bowing thing or you'll do it to me the way Shubari
did. Do it now, and then get out."
The sound of droning flies now clearly audible
from one side of the Assembly Area to the other, the prosecuting advocate
bowed frantically rather than gracefully, and then fled. Areshen settled
into a satisfied calm as he watched the prosecuting advocate followed by
several dozen others trot from the Assembly Area, then turned apologetic
eyes toward Setiluth on the throne. To his surprise, however, Setiluth
met his eyes without hesitation, ease and amusement in her own.
"Thank you, father," Setiluth stated with a gentle
smile, and then turned again toward the scribes' tables. "I will hear the
next case, please."
Areshen lowered himself back onto the bench,
settling a bit more as he turned in question toward Setith. Setith just
smiled. Ibisien, however, once more sat in entranced expectation.
"Perhaps it will be you, Areshen," Ibisien
crooned, "who will appear beneath Ur's walls in your chariot. Oh how I
shall cower before the ferocious power in your eyes as you strip the robes
from my body, as you lift your powerful whip - "
Areshen reached for his cup, took a long swallow,
and then with Ibisien's voice still droning in his ears turned again in
boredom toward the throne and the tiresome, interminable preparations for
the next case. Whatever else happened, Areshen sighed, this, his first
visit to a temple tribunal at the center of civilization, was also going
to be his last.
Continued
