XXI
Areshen wandered from the High Priestess' palace,
then strolled without pressing concern across the Sacred Area, idly
pondering the busy rush of industry in and about the Sacred Area's other
palaces as well as in a few dozen large chambers nestled in the walls
surrounding the temple and the Great Court. By and far the majority of
those who worked in these factories, it seemed, were women, the looms the
principle industry, ceramics shops and the like a close second. At the
entrance portals leading into a number of other chambers sat stacked
ingots of various types of metals, smoke billowing from these chambers'
roofs indicating a forge in operation. Other portals led to chambers
housing the Sacred Area's Holy Prostitutes, a particular industry in Ur's
temple of Nanna obviously practiced on a far greater scale than in the
outer city beyond the Sacred Area's walls.
Areshen wandered through the Gate of Judgment onto
the temple platform itself, then beneath the temple's towering walls
toward the Shrine of Nanna, this Ur's holiest and grandest laying on the
northern edge of the temple platform. In a small court in front of the
shrine's massive ceremonial doors stood a large assembly of priests
attired in flowing, ritual eloquence, two of whom held heavy butchering
axes in their hands. Two more led a large, docile bull forward, the
animal, Areshen supposed, most likely drugged prior to the ceremony. For
another ten minutes a dozen Incantation Priests recited liturgies;
Purification Priests sprinkled the bull with Holy Water; Exorcist Priests
cleansed it of any remaining demons which might have escaped their
attention prior to the ceremony. Nanna, Areshen chuckled when the
butchering axes were finally swung, seemed to have a great deal more
patience than did the household god which had been his responsibility to
feed as a child.
"Exalted One of Isin," a bearded, elderly priest
Areshen had encountered in the palace on several occasions began, "the
libations are about to be poured. Please honor us with your presence."
Areshen nodded appreciation, then followed the
priest through the ceremonial doors into the shrine of Nanna, Nanna
himself standing in glorious, larger than life magnificence behind gold
embroidered curtains in one of the shrine's larger chambers, Incense
Priests attending to their duties in front of a dozen braziers set atop
pedestals along the chamber's wall.
"That," Gipul had stated, pointing in scorn to the
statue of Nanna following Shubari's demise, "goes back to Elam with me in
an ox cart when I sack Ur."
Most likely it would, Areshen sighed as he
followed the elderly priest past the Shrine of Nanna's industrial kitchens
in which several dozen young women busied themselves preparing the god's
morning meal, then into another chamber just as a pair of Libations
Priests lifted a large cask of beer from a table near one of the walls.
"From the breweries of Suani," Areshen's guide
stated. "You yourself, Exalted One of Isin, are well know to be a devotee
of the finer beers, are you not?"
"Yes," Areshen nodded, struggling to conceal
something very unsettling in the pit of his stomach as the Libations
Priests, chanting their gratitude for the fact that they had been chosen
to do so, dumped an entire cask of fine Suani beer into a drain in the
middle of the chamber's floor. Areshen glanced toward the table and
another half dozen casks of beer from breweries every bit as prestigious
as Suani's, feeling quite as though he were attending the funeral rites
for a very close friend.
"High Priest," Areshen finally groaned as he
watched another entire cask of fine beer disappear into a hole in the
ground, "what real harm would there be were you and your fellows to offer
this beer to Nen - Nur - whatever, after having made some use of it
yourselves. Nan - Nin - whatever, would still get it; he'd just get it
from a different spout."
As Areshen suspected might be the case, one or two
of the priests struggled to conceal horror. The other dozen or so,
however, choked down gasps which Areshen suspected would have been
irreverent laughter had they been released.
"Here, let me show you," Areshen stated, grasping
a cup and pushing himself deliberately toward the nearest cask. "Come
along, come along," Areshen belched after a long pull from his cup, a
dozen priests edging tentatively toward the cask, abandoning themselves to
blasphemous riot after the one or two staid and pious colleagues had
skulked from the chamber.
"Now," Areshen finally pronounced in tottering
laughter after a half dozen cups, "we will give Nar - Nen - whatever, his
due," and stepping up to the drain in the middle of the chamber, Areshen
offered his libation to the gods.
Setiluth, Areshen sighed as he watched a half
dozen staggering Libations Priests offer their own libations in drunken,
riotous laughter, would be furious. Sighing again, Areshen wandered
through the chamber's portal, from the temple platform a quick minute
later, then toward the divine king's palace which lay a short distance
from Setiluth's, Areshen carefully avoiding the latter.
Setith, at Setiluth's insistence, was now
conducting her Assembly in the divine king's palace, several dozen
supplicants from across Sumer and Akkad waiting in chambers scattered
throughout the palace to be received by Isin's queen.
"Exalted warrior queen of Isin," an ambassador
from the governor of Salu continued as he bowed toward Setith on the
throne, "my master begs your indulgence, pleading for you to understand
why it is impossible for him to be here today. The following explanation,
most noble and beneficent Setith, the governor offers. As he stepped from
his litter onto the peer in Salu, two large black dogs ran across his path
from right to left, stopped, and then began to copulate in the governor’s
presence. And if that were not bad enough, the gray witch of Salu
appeared on the rooftop of a nearby building in demonic frenzy just as a
raven flew across the harbor, again noble Setith, from right to left, the
raven shrieking, 'doom, doom' as it flew. As soon as all of this
happened, the governor was carried immediately back to the palace, the
physicians and the exorcists summoned at once. A snake was placed on the
governor's bed. A hundred members of the governor's household, most
gracious and forgiving warrior queen, are prepared to state on oath, using
your own name, that this all happened just as I have said."
Areshen stood in idle quiet next to one of the
chamber's pillars glancing toward Setith's gracious and assenting nod;
apparently the absent governor's list of excuses was sufficient. Setith's
court interesting him for little more than another five or ten minutes,
Areshen finally wandered from the palace, through the walls of the Sacred
Area itself a quick minute later.
Most people in the outer city, Areshen decided,
did not appear remarkable different than those who worked within the walls
of the Sacred Area, fewer priests and priestesses, perhaps, more people
working than praying. Wages, since Setiluth had been installed as High
Priestess, were now the same of both sides of the Sacred Area's walls,
masters and mistresses of temple households required to settle accounts
with grain rather than solely with silver, though Setiluth, Areshen
supposed, understood the significance of all this far better than did he.
"Ibisien," Areshen had commented last night, "is
again receiving loud ovations in the Assembly. I do not understand why.
The innovations for which Ibisien receives ovations are yours, Setiluth.
You are the High Priestess."
"But Ibisien is the king," Setiluth had answered.
Setiluth showed no great concern over the matter one way or another,
however, so Areshen had just decided to do what he had done all along,
plod through it all the best he could without making any strenuous effort
toward understanding it.
Areshen finally stepped from the street into his
younger daughter's house, then stood for a few minutes in the courtyard
with a half dozen patients waiting to see Martila's husband, a physician
close to Areshen's own age from one of Ur's old, noble families.
Martila, a year younger than Setiluth and several
inches shorter than Setith and Setiluth, though quite as beautiful and far
more buoyant and exuberant than either, stepped from one of the chambers a
quick moment later.
"Father," Martila began, simple, radiant charm in
an uncomplicated smile as she grasped Areshen's hand, "come and say hello
to your grandchildren," and Areshen followed his daughter into a small
sitting room. A granddaughter a little over a year old crawled onto his
lap as he lowered himself to the couch. A grandson a little over two
months old slept in a wicker basket beside the couch.
"Any more on the way?" Areshen asked with a
contented chuckle as he settled down to play with his grandchildren.
"None expected at the moment," Martila laughed,
and again grasped Areshen's hand. "Come on, father."
"I just sat down," Areshen protested.
"The sooner you begin, father, the sooner it will
all be over with," Areshen's ever practical younger daughter answered as
she pulled him from the couch, then across the courtyard toward her
husband's chambers.
"The tooth doesn't hurt that much this morning,"
Areshen tried as they approached the portal.
"Father," Martila groaned, "two visits within days
of each other? Particularly during Mechusen's receiving hours? Your
tooth is hurting. Now be a brave little soldier, father," Martila
chuckled as she shoved Areshen through the door.
"Welcome, Areshen," Mechusen, a slightly
overweight physician of noble and distinguished appearance dressed in the
elaborate robes of his office began as he grasped Areshen's arm with
commanding restraint, leading him toward the chair. "It's about time we
had our tooth taken care of now, is it not?"
"I suppose it is," Areshen mumbled as he gazed
with unfeigned trepidation about the chamber's walls, one a small library
of neatly stacked medical tablets, two others with pots, jars, and metal
instruments of various sizes and shapes, none of which were particularly
pleasant in appearance.
"Well, Areshen, nothing to be gained by delaying
matters," Mechusen continued. "We'll begin the examination immediately,
shall we?" the examination a thirty minute interrogation into every
possible detail of Areshen's life over the past two months in order to
determine the cause of his toothache.
"Did you eat meat at any time between the eighth
and the tenth of the month inclusive," Mechusen asked? "Have you slept
with a temple prostitute? With any prostitutes? Did a snake happen to
fall from the roof of the house in which you were sleeping onto your bed?"
Areshen answer "no" to the last question, had
answered "no" to most of the questions for that matter, and then waited in
anxious, silent concern as Mechusen studied a half dozen tablets spread
across his table, his brow wrinkled in concentrated thought.
"It appears to be a simple tooth worm," Mechusen
finally announced, "rather than a malicious demon or a vengeful god
angered because a taboo has been violated."
"A tooth worm?"
"Yes," Mechusen answered. "A worm has lodged
itself in the base of the tooth. Since it appears that no demons or gods
have a pressing interest in the tooth, it should be an uncomplicated
extraction," and Mechusen pushed himself to his feet, summoning his
assistant.
A quick moment later, a younger man dressed in the
flowing robes of a minor order priest stood a short distance from
Areshen's chair burning incense and reciting liturgies as Mechusen
gathered a half dozen metal instruments into a small ceramic plate.
"And it came to pass that the worm," the minor
order priest chanted in prayer as Mechusen prepared for the operation,
"returned to the throne of Enlil in lamentation and complaint. 'You have
given me only dirt to eat,' the worm said. 'Is that any way to act toward
a holy worm? For I am indeed a holy worm.' Enlil then repented because
he had given a holy worm nothing but dirt to eat and Enlil said, 'you are
a holy worm. Other worms she eat dirt, but because you are a holy worm, I
will give you the teeth of the people of Sumer to eat. You, holy worm,
because you are a holy worm, may eat the teeth of the people of Sumer.'"
Areshen turned from the chanting priest back
toward Mechusen as he swabbed some sort of bitter tasting liquid from a
small ceramic jar onto his gum, working the liquid into the gum itself
with a small metal pick.
"Won't be long now," Mechusen stated in idle,
though soothing tones as he reached for that which certainly appeared the
most viscous of the metal instruments sitting on the plate.
"The Liturgy of Extraction," the chanting priest
announced as he lifted another tablet from the table, and for another five
minutes the tooth worm was informed that he was about to get his just
deserts. By that time, however, the anesthetic had taken effect. When
Mechusen finally extracted the tooth, along with the offending worm,
Areshen supposed, the procedure was relatively quick and painless, little
more than one quick tug by a hand obviously practiced and competent.
"If you like, Areshen," Mechusen began as he
dropped the tooth into another small dish, "we will perform the internment
rites for you. You may of course, if you wish, take the tooth with you
and perform the rites yourself," and Areshen turned toward the subtle hint
of jovial amusement in Mechusen's features.
"I'm certain that whatever rites must be performed
are far better off in your hands," Areshen sighed. "Charge them to the
account's master in any wall fortress."
"I will do so," Mechusen chuckled as he led
Areshen toward the door. "Remember now, you must fast for six hours. You
much have no sexual relations with any wall prostitutes before nightfall.
Avoid black snakes or any other circumstances in which you might encounter
bad omens. And no beer for six days."
"What?" Areshen cried out, little disguised grief
in his features, then annoyance for the less than subtle amusement now in
Mechusen's.
"Did I say no beer for six days," Mechusen
chuckled. "I meant, of course, six hours."
"Six hours," Areshen groaned. "I'll try," and he
watched a final moment's mirth in his daughter's husband's features as he
stepped back into the courtyard. By and large, however, Areshen felt only
a grudging respect for Mechusen, a man close to his own age who had
treated his daughter well. On any number of occasions over the past few
years, despite the fact that Mechusen and Martila were both products of
Ur's staid and tradition bound nobility, Areshen had noticed something
which appeared very close to genuine, even playful affection in the
glances they shared with each other. Martila, always a light hearted,
easy natured girl to begin with, would never have married someone without
similar qualities.
"Father," Martila began a quick moment later as
she again stepped into the courtyard and took Areshen's hand into her
own. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
"I suppose not," Areshen sighed. "Your husband is
a most competent physician, Martila."
"Thank you, father," Martila chuckled as she
turned toward a young Akkadian serving girl. "Subri, bring us some beer,
darling."
Areshen turned toward Martila in momentary concern
as she led him into her chambers, decided a quick moment later that he
would keep his concerns to himself. Perhaps if he scrupulously observed
Mechusen's other postoperative orders, the tooth gods, or whatever, would
overlook minor transgressions concerning the order regarding beer.
"Mother and Martila visited for an hour
yesterday," Martila began as she sat in Areshen's arms on the couch. "I
almost began to tremble when I first saw mother. She looks so like a
queen now, just stepped from her chariot, perhaps. All of Ur says the
same, even people who have known mother all their lives."
Areshen grasped his seventeen year old daughter's
hand in gentle warmth. Martila, in nature and temperament, resembled Eta,
his twelve year old wife. Both Martila and Eta, married to men far older
than themselves, were well balanced, happy people, though both were
emotionally dependant on others, frightened of anything which might
disrupt the current, comfortable stability in their lives. Setiluth,
Areshen suspected, were it necessary to do so, could survive, even
flourish, in an emotional vacuum. Indeed, as far as Areshen knew,
Setiluth's own husband was still wandering the northern part of Akkad
attending to matters of business, he and Setiluth promising to arrange an
evening together in the next few months should such business matters
permit. Martila, however, found sufficient happiness raising her and her
husband's children in a small yet comfortable house in the middle of Ur,
would never, Areshen suspected, have been able to endure the ordeal
through which Setith had lived over the past year.
"Setiluth," Martila continued as she returned
Areshen's embrace, "seems to be in far better spirits now that mother has
returned. Setiluth is desperately in love with you and mother, father.
It frightens me to think how she would manage without either of you. I
suppose, however, Setiluth being Setiluth, she would manage far more
easily than me."
"Sweet Martila," Areshen began, gentle concern in
his voice, "what is all this dark humor? This is not you."
"Perhaps not," Martila answered, attempting a
soft, thoughtful chuckle. "I suppose I have caught something from mother
and Setiluth. They both try so very hard to leave their concerns and the
problems of the world on the other side of the door whenever they visit.
They can never completely do so, however. Setiluth, most certainly,
cannot. As different as she and I are, we are still sisters, have always
been very close. There is little more than a year's difference in our
ages, and there is very little we can hide from each other. Father," and
in one bizarre and startling moment, Areshen caught in his younger
daughter's eyes that which he had seen so often in Setiluth's, "you are my
husband, father, as well as Setiluth's. No one contests this. No one in
Ur or anywhere else."
"Martila," Areshen sighed, "do you really believe
that?"
"Of course I do, father," Martila answered, urging
emphasis in her voice. "But you will not give Setiluth a divine child.
You will not, I suppose, give me one either, will you, father? But I
still dream of you all the time, what it would be like with you. You are
so very beautiful, father, and - it is allowed."
"Martila - " Areshen began, the same tremble
coursing through his soul as he wondered if he must now go through this
all over again, this time with his younger daughter.
"All right, father, I'll stop for now," Martila
answered with a soft, relenting chuckle. "Setiluth tells me that she must
be satisfied with her dreams as well."
"Anyway," Areshen sighed, deciding to try
something different, "Ibisien is still king of Ur. It's up to him to
produce divine children if any are to be produced here in Ur."
"Ibisien," Martila repeated, a long moment's
mirthful amusement in her features. "Father, please," and Areshen gazed
another moment toward gentle ease once more in his seventeen year old
daughter's features. The thought of reaching for Martila in sensual
passion seemed unimaginable, even if the same with Setiluth no longer
did. Despite the fact that he and Setiluth had on too many other
occasions found themselves locked in passionate, struggling embrace,
Areshen was generally able to dismiss feelings of arousal toward Setiluth
with relative ease. In Martila's arms, sensual arousal had never been a
problem to begin with. With something close to as despondent a dismay as
he had ever before felt, however, Areshen realized that it could be, the
dismay deepening when Martila pushed herself into closer embrace, the soft
and brushing motions of her hand a piercing warmth he just couldn't deny.
"I suppose there's a part of me," Martila
continued, "which feels jealous over you, father. Every woman in Ur fears
mother. They all respect Setiluth. Toward you, however, only one thought
runs through their minds. You cannot blame me if the same thought
occasionally runs through my mind. After all, there has to be one man in
Sumer who is husband to everyone, doesn't there?"
"That is a question your mother or sister or the
High Priests are far more suited to answer."
"I suppose," Martila chuckled. "I suppose that is
why mother and Setiluth are who they are, and I am who I am. For the most
part, I can think of you only as my father," though Areshen still felt
something in the grasp of Martila's hand which he had never before felt
with quite the same strength or intensity, felt quite as though his heart
must be breaking when he realized how arousing the embrace of his younger
daughter now seemed.
"They say kings in Egypt," Martila continued, "are
allowed greater privileges."
"But I am not - "
"I know," Martila chuckled, though quiet and
solemn when she continued, not at all the Martila Areshen had always known
in the past. "Mother and Setiluth think that I am in perfect control of
my life, or some such thing. I am a second daughter. I am supposed to be
happy and content with my lot. And I am - for the most part. But mother
also speaks of some sort of distance which is assumed to exit between you
and me, father, as though we have released each other emotionally. I
don't want there to be any distance between us, father. Father," and
Areshen realized that his younger daughter had finally abandoned herself
completely, the caress of her hand undisguised as she pushed herself from
a daughter's embrace into one of close, pleading intimacy. "I have
already carried two babies without any problems at all," and Martila
raised a caressing hand to Areshen's forehead. "Please, father," she
whispered.
Areshen gazed down into his younger daughter's
eyes, confused, perhaps even discouraged, longing very suddenly for those
days before Isin when as a military governor no different from any other
he had been able to return home, pull either of his daughters into his
arms, and suspect the sensual intimacy they had began to express toward
him nothing more than juvenile play which would sooner or later pass.
Again Areshen gazed toward Martila, perhaps just a year younger than
Setiluth in fact, though in appearance the difference seemed far greater,
at least to him. Martila, not as tall as Setith or Setiluth, certainly
slighter in build, had never before seemed anything but a daughter to
Areshen. He and Setiluth, Areshen realized again with sudden and new
intensity, were indeed lovers, certainly were lovers on an emotional
level. There remained very little of father and daughter even in the
terms of affection they chose for each other. Holding Setiluth in his
arms, he felt little more than a woman's heart next to his own, even if
she was a woman with whom he could never, at least with emotional ease,
make love.
And now Martila's embrace, Areshen realized a
quick moment later, was no longer a daughter's. Martila had obviously
convinced herself that any distance between herself and her father was no
longer necessary, whether that distance be emotional or physical. Isin,
Areshen sighed as he watched pleading passion settle into his young
daughter's eyes. All this nonsense had started when he had done nothing
more than chuckle in amusement as people began to call the military
governor's throne a king's throne; when it became a divine king's throne,
it had been nothing more than another source of amusement. The whole
thing was no longer amusing in the least.
"Father," Martila pled again, her embrace now
obvious sexual abandon as she pressed herself into Areshen's lap, pressing
her lips to his own in mature, struggling passion. Areshen felt his
resistance collapse, unprepared for the piercing warmth of the kiss, the
same confusion coursing through his mind and body as Martila wrapped
herself into urging embrace. He gave up, falling with her onto the couch,
the moment a blind and all consuming warmth as the woman in his arms
shuddered in gasping, frantic desire, her kisses and caresses finished,
urging passion.
Only when Areshen had indeed pulled Martila into
embrace a moment away from completion did it strike him that the act was
to be passionate, sexual love rather than an exercise in procreative
activity. Everyone in Sumer seemed able to justify the latter for him.
Areshen, however, could just not justify the former. He opened his eyes,
and gazed into those of his daughter, forcing himself to do so no matter
the cost. Martila held his eyes in steady, intimate embrace, finally
settling back onto the couch, defeat, he supposed, now in her features.
"I love you, father," Martila whispered, though
Areshen couldn't help but hear the trembling edge of question in her
voice. Areshen now felt little more than emotional exhaustion, searching
for some way, any way, to convince another daughter that he loved her
without having to pull her into sexual love.
Areshen walked back onto the streets of Ur when he
had again detected nothing but gentle and accepting ease in his younger
daughter's smile, though he supposed he could never again be certain.
Areshen then waited out the final few hours he was forbidden beer by the
tooth gods in front of a small tavern shrine drinking beer - from a small
cup. When fairly certain that the time had finally expired, he switched
back to a large cup. The beer helped, Areshen supposed as he stumbled
toward the next tavern; it helped at least a little. When he had walked
from Martila's house, he had felt something like panic, something as close
to a helpless desperation as he had ever felt. Now, as he reached for his
next cup in front of a small tavern in the harbor district, he realized he
was finally beginning to feel nothing at all, even if it had taken him a
few more cups than usual to attain this comfortable mental state. A few
minutes later, Areshen found himself laughing with careless ease as he
shared in all manner of course and obscene language bawdy, sometimes lurid
and blasphemous jokes with the sailors who frequented the taverns in this
part of Ur. Only between jokes as Areshen pondered in silence the rush of
frenzied activity along Ur's harbor district streets did he again, though
now only for brief and fleeting moment, succumb to feelings of regret and
remorse over the simple fact of his identity.
"King," and the largest of three very drunken
sailors with whom Areshen had passed the last hour belched in laughter as
he held the other sailors to their feet, "I have reconsidered. For Sumer
and Akkad, I will trade not one, but both of these fine fellows. Throw in
the rest of the world, king, and I will return to my boat and fetch two
more."
"Sold," Areshen proclaimed, hoisting his cup.
"Present all four to the account's master in Isin."
"We have a deal, king," and the largest of the
drunken sailors holding the other two by the scruff of the neck set off
down the street, stumbled the first half dozen steps toward Isin, then
decided a mud hole in the middle of the street was a fine place to spend
the rest of the night.
In riotous laughter, Areshen drank a few more
sailors into mud holes in the middle of the street, amused that he had
always been able to do so despite the fact that most of them were a great
deal heavier than he. A short time later, Areshen turned at the approach
of another reputed to possess similar prowess with the cup.
Ibisien, Areshen chuckled, another king, of
course, lolling in blissful inebriation atop his litter. The gods,
Areshen chuckled in drunken amusement as he pushed himself from the tavern
door, must, along with scepter and crown, bestow some special prowess with
the cup. Ibisien, seated atop a portable throne carried by eight Akkadian
bearers, held his cup in one hand, his head in the other, blank
disinterest in eyes opened little more than a crack.
"King," Areshen belched as he grasped the portable
throne's carrying poles, pulling it to a stop.
"Who - what - " Ibisien began as he snapped into
consciousness. "Areshen," Ibisien then stammered, recognition and curious
wonder in his eyes.
"A bear with my friends and me, king," Areshen
urged in drunken joviality as he waved a hand toward the tavern, stumbling
into the side of the litter a quick moment later. "Certainly you have
time for a quick beer with a fellow king."
"Beer?" Ibisien asked, disdain in his features.
"They're sailors, Areshen," Ibisien continued as he leaned closer,
something ambivalent, however, now settling into his expression. "They're
all very big, very - well endowed sailors, aren't they?"
"That they are, king," Areshen laughed as he
turned toward the throne bearers. "Put him down, put him down. The king
and I are drinking together," and with expressions of amusement the throne
bearers lowered Ibisien to the ground.
"Areshen - " Ibisien stammered with renewed
concern as he gazed about a very base and common street scene.
"King," Areshen laughed as he grasped Ibisien's
arm and pulled him to his feet, "you spend far too much of your time
locked behind palace walls. Show yourself to your people. How often have
you told me the same?"
"I said have paintings painted and statues
carved," Ibisien answered, cowering at Areshen's side as he was led toward
the tavern.
"Nonsense," Areshen laughed. "It is you, king,
not your statue, which Ur respect," and Areshen turned toward the
assembled crowd of sailors and laborers, quite aware that Ibisien was
indeed still respected by most of Ur's working class, certainly more so
than Shubari had been. "Who," Areshen shouted toward the crowd, "will
offer propitiation for the king of Ur's first cup of beer?"
In jubilant acclamation, the crowd roared in
unison, Ibisien breaking into an emotional smile of gratitude as he turned
back toward Areshen.
"There, you see, king," and with a common sailor's
thump to Ibisien's back, Areshen propelled Ur's reluctant king the final
few steps toward the serving board at the tavern's door.
"I will offer propitiation for the king's first
cup," the sailor with whom Areshen had passed the last few minutes
announced as in drunken and comical movement he attempted a courtly bow
toward Ibisien.
"What is all this bowing nonsense?" Areshen
belched. "I didn't get any bows from you."
"But king," the sailor protested as he turned back
to Areshen, Areshen as usual dressed in common military attire. "He looks
like a king," the sailor continued, nodding toward the flowing robes of
state worn by Ibisien. "I can't be buying no beer for no king what looks
like a king, king, unless I does a bow at him first."
"No, of course you can't," Areshen laughed,
turning in amusement toward the pretty young tavern mistress as she handed
a cup of wine to Ibisien.
"It's only Demleli, Exalted One of Ur, not the
best," the girl apologized, courtly formality to which she as well was
obviously not accustomed attempted in her features.
"It is wine, my dear," Ibisien answered in
gracious tones, a measure of ease returned to his features following the
first long gulp. "It will suit me just fine."
In easy, idle humor, Areshen returned to his own
cup as he watched Ibisien express his appreciation to the sailor. The
ensuing conversation was as bizarre an any, Areshen supposed, in which
Ibisien was a participant.
"Sometimes we gets into fights," the sailor
continued. "After all, we're sailors. We's supposed to. But we don't
hurt each other, at least not much. We just tosses each other around a
bit."
"Toss each other around - " Ibisien crooned, his
eyes ablaze as he gazed up and down a well proportioned sailor's body.
"You must come to my house this evening and tell me more. Perhaps a
demonstration," and Ibisien turned again toward the tavern mistress.
"Another cup for this fine young man, my dear. He is coming to the palace
tonight. We are going to discuss - tossing each other around."
In easy amusement, Areshen listened to a
conversation increasingly more bizarre with every passing cup, and Areshen
wondered if he should warn Ibisien that an ordinary sailor, as proficient
as such might be with the cup, was unlikely to be accustomed to the sort
of drinking which occurred behind the walls of a palace. A few short
minutes later a well proportioned young sailor lay flat on his face at
Ibisien's feet, Ibisien gazing down with an expression of dismay as he
realized that his evening of bizarre and exotic delight had ended before
it had even began.
"You bought him too many cups," Areshen chuckled.
"They are not used to the potency of the drink one finds in the palace."
"You should have warned me, Areshen," Ibisien
whined, a final, wistful glance toward the sailor, then a sigh of
resignation as he handed his empty cup to the tavern mistress, consoled
when she handed a full one back.
"King," the girl began with a seductive smile as
one of the throne bearers, at a snap of Ibisien's fingers, deposited an
extraordinary weight of silver, both worked and unworked, on the tavern's
serving board, "you are far too generous, king. I will come to your
palace tonight," a very pretty tavern mistress continued, a clear
expression of seductive sensuality now in her eyes. The girl, Areshen
chuckled, like most people on Ur's streets, had no idea what went on in
Ur's palace.
"A gracious and tempting offer, my dear," Ibisien
lied with fluent eloquence, "and one I find most difficult to refuse,"
though Ibisien released a long sigh and did so. "I would no longer be
entertaining company. Perhaps another evening, my dear," and Ibisien
glanced with passionate regret another quick moment toward the sailor
snoring at his feet, glanced then with annoyance toward Areshen. "You
really should have warned me," Ibisien repeated.
Areshen broke into a soft chuckle, Ibisien's sigh
relenting when he spoke again.
"Well, what is it, Areshen? Something is
bothering you. I've known you too long not to notice."
"King," Areshen sighed as well, though he now met
Ibisien's eyes with a measure of appreciation in his own, "I find no joy
whatsoever in being a king. I certainly do not want to be Ur's king as
well."
"I believe you, Areshen. I believed you the last
time you told me the same."
"I do not even know what the word king means. My
daughters do, though. At least they seem to. They have very definite
opinions on the subject."
"Ah," Ibisien sighed, "I understand. I have a
daughter myself," and Ibisien returned a subtle expression of amusement
for the wonder in Areshen's eyes. "Even more disturbing, however, I have
a granddaughter as well. I would never have had a daughter or a
granddaughter at all had I not gotten too drunk one evening, far too
drunk. I hardly remember the evening at all. Twelve years later I got
drunk again. The wife who had carried the cup to me the evening my
daughter was conceived placed the cup in her daughter's hand. In another
few years, if I am still alive, I suppose the cup will be passed to the
next generation and it will be my granddaughter who carries it into my
chambers some evening."
Ibisien, again with an expression of wry
amusement, waited for comprehension to displace the inebriated confusion
in Areshen's features.
"In part," Ibisien then continued with a soft sigh
of resignation, "I feel only relief that kingship is once more passing,
this time from Ur instead of to it. When, a hundred years ago, the gods
decreed that kingship pass into Ur's and my great grandfather's hands, a
number of battles were fought by soldiers beneath city's walls. The
decisive battles, however, were fought by wives and daughters on sleeping
cushions in palace back chambers. I suppose, if kingship passes from Ur
to Isin quickly enough, I will be spared any more such maneuvers on the
part of my own daughters. After all, my chances of being recognized as a
god are not what they used to be."
"I'll speak to Setith and Setiluth for you,"
Areshen shrugged.
"Would you?" Ibisien asked, pleased anticipation
in his eyes.
"Why not? A single letter in front of your name,
and you’re a god. At least that's the way it seems to work in Isin. I'll
speak to Setiluth, have her work something out for you," and again Areshen
watched something close to jubilant satisfaction settle into Ibisien's
eyes, instructions to the stone carvers very obviously coursing through
his mind. "As soon as you become a god, though," Areshen continued in
easy, idle amusement, "you're problems will begin all over again."
"Yes," Ibisien sighed, "well, one matter at a
time. Perhaps next time I'll be too drunk, and a - proficiency very few
suspected that I possessed will finally fail me."
"Perhaps my own problems are similar," Areshen
sighed.
"I do not think so," Ibisien continued in
contemplative quiet. "Setith, Setiluth, particularly Martila, have no
desire to perpetuate wealth or power for its own sake. Theirs are simply
desires of the heart, Areshen. I'm not certain whether or not that should
be a source of comfort or consolation to you. But don't despair, my old
friend. By and large, yours is a very well ordered family. I envy you,"
and with a final, remorseful sigh, Ibisien again glanced down toward the
drunken sailor laying at his feet. "You really should have warned me,
Areshen," Ibisien groaned as he stumbled back to his portable throne,
snapped his fingers, and was gone.
Areshen pondered Ur's king and his words for one
final instant, about as long as he ever bothered to do so. With a
dismissing shrug, Areshen then pushed himself on, the streets of Ur a
rather humorous and incomprehensible blur of noise and motion until he
finally found himself standing at the serving board in front of Heluth's
tavern in Shensulith Square.
"I've done nothing but drink beer all day long,"
Areshen stated, idle complaint in his voice as he gazed with inebriated
amusement into Heluth's eyes.
"Everyone deserves a holiday," Heluth, the same
exotic and seductive intrigue in her features, answered.
"Yes, but I've done nothing but drink all day,"
Areshen just repeated. "And still, I am almost completely sober. That is
very irritating, Heluth."
"I suppose it is, military governor," Heluth
chuckled as she lifted the serving board from the doorway and grasped
Areshen's arm.
"What is this, Heluth?" Areshen asked in
confusion.
"Look around you, military governor," and Heluth
nodded about the empty and lifeless grounds of the square, the other
shop's doors now closed and bared. "You're staying with me tonight,
Areshen," Heluth chuckled again as she pulled him through the door,
closing and baring it a quick moment later.
"Heluth, I cannot trouble you - "
"Yes you can," Heluth answered as she grasped a
wick plate, then Areshen's hand, leading him into the small chamber at the
rear of the tavern. Areshen glanced about a scene by no means unfamiliar
to him for another quick moment, a single table on which Heluth placed the
softly glowing wick, sleeping cushions, very little else. Hardly more
inviting than a cave in the northern mountains, Areshen thought, and
still, a place where he felt a strange yet pervasive sense of warmth and
comfort, the burdens of life forgotten as soon as Heluth bared the door.
Heluth, Areshen decided, was without doubt the reason for the detached
sense of ease he now felt, her light kiss to his cheek a gentle moment of
amusement. Heluth would demand nothing of him, not even sex.
"On oath, Areshen," Heluth sighed as she removed
his cloak, "you are still so incredibly beautiful. You refuse to age just
to annoy me."
"Heluth," Areshen answered as he gazed again
toward a woman of exotic and intriguing beauty, the slightest hint of time
just now evident about the edges of her eyes, "you are quite as beautiful
now as you were when we first met."
"And you are completely sober, are you?" Heluth
laughed as she turned and lay Areshen's cloak on the table. "If I'm as
beautiful as you say, take me into your arms and ravish me."
Areshen gazed intently now toward a woman who
obviously thought his protestations of love for her little more than light
hearted humor, Heluth arranging the folds of his cloak with meticulous and
careful attention to every detail.
"Well?" Heluth chuckled, still leaning over the
table, "are you going to ravish me?" and Heluth waited for the amusement
which must certainly be evident in Areshen's voice as he replied, Heluth
quite aware that Areshen felt genuine concern for her, never, however,
able to envision that he might feel something more for a tavern mistress
conducting business in the center of Ur.
Areshen gazed yet again toward an exotic and
seductively beautiful woman. He saw, however, something different,
something he'd never before noticed with such piercing clarity, a kind and
gentle creature engrossed in nothing more than her work over his cloak.
Stepping the half pace forward which separated
them, Areshen drew his arms about Heluth's waist, the embrace, however,
encompassing warmth Heluth had not been expecting.
"Areshen?" she chuckled, twisting her eyes toward
his, curiosity mixed with dawning confusion in her features as she noticed
the gravity in Areshen's features.
"I do not want to ravish you, Heluth," Areshen
began, refusing to release his embrace, pulling her even closer as she
turned to face him. "I love you, Heluth," he whispered as he raised a
gentle, caressing hand to her cheek.
"Areshen?" Heluth tried, another moment of
confusion in her features, then a very evident hint of wonder and
intrigue. "You never before - "
"Perhaps not," Areshen replied. "Perhaps never in
the past. But always in the future."
"Areshen?" Heluth chuckled, amusement settling
into her eyes, perhaps just the hint of erotic delight a moment later as
Areshen pressed a light, brushing kiss to her cheek, the motion gentle,
heartfelt affection rather than demand or force. "What have you been
drinking, Areshen? Some exotic - "
"You do not love me, Heluth? In the past we've
always expressed our love for each other on the instant. You've even lost
- customers in order to do so."
"Of course I love you, Areshen," Heluth answered,
ease and another measure of amusement settling into her features as she
fell with seductive stance into his arms. "All right - if you want to - "
Areshen, however, simply stood motionless,
strengthening his embrace, gazing again into the eyes of an intriguing,
beautiful young woman who could gaze back only with renewed confusion.
"Heluth," Areshen finally began, deciding to
dispense with the nonsense and speak the depth of his heart, "be my wife."
Heluth stared back in amazement as Areshen once
more raised a gentle, caressing hand to her cheek.
"Areshen - " she tried, "you’re intox - "
"You know better, Heluth," Areshen chuckled with
gentle ease.
Heluth could do little more than nod in defeat as
she surrendered again to Areshen's eyes, the spark of sober and piercing
awareness there no matter how great the quantity of beer consumed.
"Areshen - "
"You have told me many times, Heluth, that you
wish you no longer had to bring customers back here."
"That is true, Areshen, but - I said I would sell
myself to you. Areshen - I'm a - how can I be your wife, Areshen?"
"By saying yes, Heluth," Areshen sighed as he once
more raised a caressing hand, this time to Heluth's forehead. "Heluth, I
genuinely love you. Can you not believe that. If you want me to build
you a palace, I will do so. I will make you High Priestess of a city - "
"Areshen," Heluth answered, a touch of ease and
self assurance Areshen had always admired settled finally into her
features once more, "none of this is of importance to me, cities,
palaces. I've told you, I would be happy to be your concubine, a small
chamber in the back - "
"Yes, Heluth, so you have told me. Now, however,
it is time for you to listen to me. In your heart, you know that I love
you. You know that I want you to be my wife, not my concubine, not my
pet," and Areshen twisted a mischievous glance toward the tavern god
resting in his wall niche. "Be my wife, Heluth. Sheth - Seth - whatever,
commands that you say 'yes' this time. As I lay sleeping on my cot last
night, the old fart came to me - "
"Areshen - " Heluth choked in easy, genuine
laughter, gravity, however, settling back into her eyes for the steady,
urging solemnity in Areshen's.
"Heluth," Areshen continued, deciding again to
speak the depths of his heart, pulling Heluth finally into complete and
intimate embrace, "I love you. Be my wife, Heluth," and Areshen felt
Heluth's body tense, something close to desperation in her eyes as she
searched his own. Again, however, Areshen refused to release her,
wrapping her into embrace she could not escape, his caress a touch of
gentle though pleading affection until he finally felt Heluth surrender
completely, falling with ease and abandon into his arms.
"All right, Areshen," Heluth at last whispered,
the depth of emotion now in her eyes as she raised her head, then a hand
in searching touch to Areshen's cheek. "All right - I will be your wife."
Areshen gazed with renewed, searching intimacy
into Heluth's eyes, realized finally that she had in fact said yes, and
then, as the concerns of the world once more vanished, he leaned forward,
meeting Heluth's lips with his own in kiss the complete and final
expression of intimacy and passion. Perhaps he could not, as sweet Eta
had said, marry every woman in Sumer and Akkad in order to remove them
from situations they themselves desperately wished to escape. He could,
however, he decided with a touch of returning humor, marry some of them.
Or so, at least, Setith, Setiluth, and every other High Priest and
Priestess across Sumer and Akkad said.
Areshen pulled Heluth again into close, searching
embrace, every other concern vanishing when he felt easy, comfortable
strength in her own embrace, her kiss without caution or restraint.
"Heluth," Areshen finally whispered, "I love you."
"Yes, Areshen," she whispered in return, a soft,
emotional cry in her voice, gentle warmth in her eyes a quick moment
later, "yes, Areshen, I truly believe that you do love me. I always
though you did, but - "
"But now you know."
"Yes," Heluth chuckled. "Yes, Areshen."
"Yes, beloved. A wife calls her husband beloved."
"Yes, beloved," Heluth answered in soft laughter,
solemn, searching emotion settling again into her features as she once
more buried herself into Areshen's arms. "Yes, beloved. I know that you
love me. It's all right now. Everything is all right now."
"They tell me," Areshen continued in easier humor,
"that I did not really need to ask you to become my wife. I could have
just have informed you that the matter was a fact. If you had said no
when I did ask, however, then it would have been necessary to ask all over
again when I was ready to do so."
"Areshen," Heluth continued, settling into gentle
amusement herself, "what is this mood you are in? I have never seen you
quite like this."
"It has been a confusing, disturbing day," Areshen
sighed. "It began when I watched priests in the temple pour entire casks
of perfectly good beer into a hole in the ground. The rest of the day was
little better. So I decided that my day must end with you, Heluth. Only
then could it end well."
"Areshen," Heluth whispered, her embrace again one
of passionate strength. "Beloved," she then continued, an edge of
hesitant concern now in her voice, "Setith is in Ur, is she not? In the
High Priestess' palace with Setiluth?"
"I love both dearly. I love you dearly as well,
Heluth. And I am certain that Setith will grow to love you as well,
Heluth. For two years now, returning to Setith's house after particularly
- confusing evenings, I have informed her that I passed the night as a
guest of the Shrine of Shath - whatever. 'Oh,' Setith answered, 'Heluth,
such a sweet, adorable little thing. Such a - hard working minor order
priestess. Had fate been kinder to her, she might have been one of Ur's
preeminent minor order priestesses, may be yet if she can just find the
right god. The poor girl has had such terrible luck, one god after
another proving him or herself inept and unworthy of a priestess of
Heluth's quality - and talent.'"
Heluth broke into a soft chuckle, gentle concern
once more in her features as she continued.
"Where will I live now, Areshen?"
"Wherever you want to, Heluth. If you wish, I
will build you a palace. Setith would certainly advance me - "
"Yes," Heluth chuckled. "So you have said.
Actually, if it were really up to me, I would just stay here. But I can
never again touch another man now that I am married," and Heluth lowered
her eyes in a quick moment's searching thought, hesitant concern once more
evident in her voice when she continued. "I suppose I've always been
stubborn, however, have always enjoyed being a priestess, free and without
bond to another. In order to enjoy such privileges in a small tavern
shrine such as my own, however, it is often necessary to abstain from such
basics as food and sleep for days at a time in order to pay for the next
cask of beer. And far fewer men have found themselves attracted to me
over the past few years. They prefer thirteen year olds just starting out
in the back of their mother's shrine. The fewer the men, the more days I
pass in hunger. And Areshen, I still owe you - "
"Heluth, stop worrying. I will never let you be
hungry again. If I have to, I will order the account's master in Isin to
fund another fortress somewhere. Then I will have the brick makers and
the masons build you a house instead. Old Meneturu in Shar Dulur informs
me that he has had to juggle tablets by the armload countless times in the
past just to keep a canal somewhere unclogged."
Heluth broke into a soft chuckle, gentle ease
returning to her eyes.
"If you are really leaving the choice up to me,
Areshen, then perhaps Shar Dulur. I've know many soldiers over the years
who say that it is a joy to live there since you became its master. Since
Setith became its mistress, maids all across Ur are scheming to have
themselves sold into Shar Dulur's household. Do - do they really call it
the palace of holy disorder?"
"Setith has dumped a few buckets of Holy Order
into the place, far fewer, however, than I would ever have imagined. A
queen, apparently, may overlook a great deal which a High Priestess may
not. A queen, Setith has informed me, may if she wish, lounge naked in
the throne chamber tossing fish bones to the side as she conducts her
Assembly. She and Ati, certain of my informants tell me, delight in
providing such entertainment whenever dignitaries from the south's staid
and ancient nobility are scheduled to appear before Isin's Assembly."
"I hear all manner of rumor," Heluth chuckled.
"Setith, of course, hears it as well.
'Barbarians,' Setith's informants quote. 'Ur, mistress Setith, thinks
Isin a wasteland of licentious riot.' Setith, always with Ati's help and
advice, arranges to make the rumors seem the essence of understatement
whenever another dignitary from the south is scheduled to arrive. I've
stood on Shar Dulur's balconies a dozen times bent double in laughter as
some old dame from Ur is carried in full faint back to her litter."
"The say queen Ati is very beautiful as well,
Areshen. I hope she will like me."
"She will like you, Heluth. She is a very gentle
person, has spent her life scrubbing Shar Dulur's floors. I simply put
her where she belonged in the first place."
"Everyone will say that you find your wives in
very strange places, Areshen. You ignore the palaces of princes and
governors, and instead you search tenant farms and back ally tavern
shrines."
"Do you regret - "
"No, of course not," Heluth chuckled. "It's just
that - before tonight this was my whole world," and Heluth nodded about a
chamber little larger than a broom closet. "How strange it will be to
leave - "
"Heluth," Areshen sighed, annoyed, he supposed,
with this latest interpretation of Holy Order, "if you cannot leave behind
this which before tonight was your whole world, then just bring it along
with you. We'll take it with us wherever we go."
Heluth broke into gentle laughter, and Areshen
waited for another woman to gaze toward the barbarian from the eastern
deserts. Heluth, however, was Heluth, and Areshen wasn't surprised when
she did nothing more than press her lips to his own in a quick moment's
gentle and affectionate touch, pushing herself to the wall shelf a moment
later. As Heluth reached for a knife and a cake of cheese on the shelf,
Areshen could not help but notice a woman who had indeed known more than
her fair share of hunger. Heluth was certainly a woman, her figure as
stunning as anyone's. Heluth, however, Eta's height, could not, Areshen
suspected, have weighed a great deal more than his twelve year old wife.
But for the fact that Heluth's figure no matter how slight was indeed a
woman's, Areshen further suspected that she might have weighed a great
deal less than Eta.
Heluth cut small slices from the cake of cheese,
noticed the studying intensity in Areshen's eyes, and assumed the exotic
stance of a dancer as she tossed one of the pieces of cheese toward
Areshen.
"You're twenty eight, now, Heluth?" Areshen asked
as he caught the cheese.
"And I look like I'm twelve?" Heluth answered with
a soft chuckle.
"No, Heluth, you do not look like you're twelve."
Again Heluth passed a long moment in exotic,
sensual dance, the Heluth Areshen had known for so long now as she gnawed
on her cheese, gentle amusement in her features when Areshen swallowed his
own only with a definite measure of difficulty.
"I'm very fortunate," Heluth finally continued
with an easy smile. "I've gained both a husband and a mother in one
evening. Five years ago my mother and I stood here eating cheese.
Mother, back then, was little heavier than I am now. Still, she would
turn, stare at my waist, then she would place her own cheese into my
hand. I would try to give it back, but oh how she would scold me, just
with her eyes."
"She is the wife of Demodi the coppersmith now, is
she not?"
"Yes," Heluth chuckled. "Mother is still very
beautiful, but she no longer looks like she is starving. Still thin as a
pole, however, she visits in tears and says, 'oh Heluth, look how fat I
have become. Demodi must divorce me and I must become a tavern mistress
again.' Mother comes to her senses very quickly, however. Demodi has
been enraptured by mother for thirty years now, may be my father for all I
know. Demodi lays the world at mother's feet. Mother will never again be
a tavern mistress."
"Heluth," Areshen began as he caught another hint
of ambivalent emotion in her eyes, "you don't regret - "
"No Areshen, no, beloved," Heluth cried as she
flung herself frantically back into his arms. "Every time you visited, I
hoped you would again ask me to be your wife. I have been free my entire
life; no one but mother could tell me what to do, no one at all when
mother married. So I would say 'no' to you every time, and then when you
left in the morning I would stand at the door in tears because I had said
no, not really certain why. The tears stopped only when I realized that
you would probably ask me again the next time you came, and I told myself
that I would say yes. I had no real intention of doing so, however, not
even tonight. But as soon as we were alone, Areshen, you took me into
your arms, your embrace something very different than it ever was before.
I knew you loved me with your heart, but tonight when you kissed me I knew
you loved me in every other way as well. I should never have doubted that
you did, Areshen, should never have doubted that you were capable of doing
so. You, after all, are the man with no gods of his own."
Areshen chuckled, nodded, supposed he understood
Heluth's feelings as well as he ever would. Areshen glanced then another
quick moment toward the god standing in his wall niche; the god, Areshen
supposed, would be very annoyed that he had stolen its priestess away, and
Areshen decided that it had been a good day after all.
XXII - LAST CHAPTER? (Check end MS)
Areshen grasped Heluth's hands and exchanged vows
with her in the shrine of Celutiru in the Sacred Area's Palace of the
Divine King.
"The rites must be performed in Celutiru's
Shrine," both Setith and Setiluth announced with subtle expressions of
amusement.
"Celutiru," Heluth informed Areshen as she stood
at his side wearing the magnificent bridal dress Setith herself had
purchased for her, "is the patroness of small tavern shrines, those who
cry in hunger, and prostitutes."
At the conclusion of the rites, Areshen again
grasped Heluth's hand and walked with her into the High Priestess' palace,
then stood in anxious silence as Setith approached, took Heluth from his
arms into her own, and led her to the chamber's couch. The conversation,
as Areshen might have expected, was short, shorter even than Setith's and
Ati's first conversation in Shar Dulur had been. Areshen stood peering
over the top of his cup searching for clues in either Setith's or Heluth's
features, in the end noticing only how slight in stature and build Heluth
indeed was as she sat next to Setith, Setith herself never as tall nor as
heavy as most other women on Ur's street. When Setith finally pulled
Heluth into a quick moment's gentle embrace, it certainly appeared a
mother taking a child into her arms.
"Heluth," Setith finally pronounced as she led
Areshen's fourth wife back across the chamber, "is everything you said she
was, beloved."
"Did I say that much - "
"You said enough, beloved," Setith chuckled. "And
I agree. Heluth is a gentle, beautiful person. Setiluth may keep Eta for
now. But Ati and I will take Heluth. We must have her with us at Shar
Dulur."
"Of course, beloved," Areshen of course answered,
though comprehending the matter marginally at best, as Setith turned and
walked away. Apparently Setith's need to have Heluth with her did not
mean at this particular moment. Areshen finally turned toward Heluth, an
expression of gentle warmth in her eyes as she also watched Setith walk
away. Whatever the situation between Setith and Heluth, Heluth seemed
pleased by it.
"I am relieved that you and Setith seem to like
each other, Heluth," Areshen began.
"Relieved," Heluth chuckled. "Why relieved,
beloved? You must have know that we would like each other."
"Yes, of course," Areshen lied, stammering on in
confusion. "What exactly does Setith mean when she says she must have you
with her?"
"It means I won't have to be hungry again,
beloved. I am Setith's now; she will care for me."
"You always said you enjoyed being free, Heluth?"
"Areshen, my mistress is Setith. She has taken
me, as well as Ati, to be her sister. It is more than I could ever have
hoped for. I knew we would like each other, but I never dared hope that
Setith would like me that much."
"Then I am happy for you, beloved," Areshen
answered with a gentle smile, and for the next several days stood along
the banks of a nearby canal with fishing line in hand trying to figure it
all out. As usual, however, a fish bit, and Areshen quickly dismissed
weighty matters from his mind as he turned his attention toward affairs of
more immediate and entertaining concern.
For several more days Areshen caught fish, turned
toward the walls of Ur and shrugged, and then caught more fish.
"There you are," and Areshen turned from his
fishing line, this time toward Eta's familiar, sweet tempered voice,
finding himself gaping in pleasant amazement a quick moment later when he
realized that the woman walking hand in hand at Eta's side was Ati.
"My boat docked this evening," Ati stated with an
easy smile of affection as Areshen took her into his arms.
"I see you have met Eta," Areshen began with a
soft, foolish chuckled for a statement of obvious fact.
"Yes," Ati answered, still with a broad, gentle
smile as she once more grasped Eta's hand. "And I met Heluth at the
dock," Ati continued. "Heluth is adorable, Areshen. She will come back
to Shar Dulur with Setith and me. The three of us performed the rites of
bonding with each other as soon as I arrived in Ur."
"That is wonderful, Ati," Areshen answered in easy
humor when he noticed the delight in Ati's eyes. "And did Eta perform
these bonding rites as well," and Areshen finally stood a barbarian before
a wife his own age and a wife considerably younger, both, however,
breaking into the same expression of compassionate amusement for the
uncivilized and uninformed husband.
"Beloved," Eta chuckled, "I am only twelve and
five sixth years old. I cannot perform the bonding rites yet."
"Of course you can't," Areshen sighed as he
grasped Eta's and Ati's hands and then turned for Ur. Perhaps he would
ask Setiluth what these bonding rites were.
"Father," Setiluth chuckled as she walked in
Areshen's arms through the chambers of the High Priestess' palace, "even
Eta knows what the rites of bonding are, and she's only - "
"Yes, yes, twelve years old. I've been informed."
"All that is important, father," Setiluth
continued as she lay a hand to Areshen's in gentle amusement, "is that
mother, Ati, and Heluth will care for each other. Mother and Ati are both
enraptured with Heluth."
Areshen nodded, and then settled onto a couch in
the High Priestess' chambers with cup in hand, gazing now and again toward
the couch on which sat three women he loved with deep and genuine emotion.
"Beloved," Setith began a short time later, and
Areshen turned, noting amusement in Ati's and Heluth's eyes as well.
"Tonight, beloved, Ati, Heluth, and I - "
"On oath, Setith," Areshen sighed, "if two at the
same time is not proper, then three - "
"I did not say it was proper, beloved," and
something close to wicked delight, Areshen suspected, swept across
Setith's eyes, something equally as sensual across Ati's and Heluth's.
Perhaps a different approach this time, Areshen
decided, offense rather and a weak and passive defense. Acceptance, and a
definite edge of sensual intrigue purposefully arranged in his own
features, Areshen met three women's pleading eyes with unabashed intimacy,
then for another blatant moment directed his gaze toward three women of
exquisite, exotic beauty sitting together on the couch and allowed his
imagination free reign.
A fantastic victory, Areshen found himself
chuckling, a total rout as first Setith's, and then Ati's and Heluth's
faces reddened.
"Areshen - " Setith's voice the epitome of
righteous indignation.
"But Setith," Areshen protested, "that night at
Shar Dulur - when I awoke to find both you and Ati sleeping in my arms - "
"Absolutely nothing happened that night," Setith
finally admitted in abject defeat. "Ati and I could hardly walk when we
finally set our cups aside. We crawled into your chamber and for all of
five minutes plotted the torment we would inflict upon you in the morning
before we passed out ourselves."
"I did say," Ati sighed in gentle humor as she
nodded toward Areshen, "that he would win in the end. He always does."
"Then Setith," Areshen continued, savoring the
victory, "does this mean that tonight the three of you will not - "
"That is exactly what it means - oh on oath," and
again Setith's face reddened as she realized that she was foolishly
answered a foolish question.
"I am sorry, beloved," Areshen finally relented,
his expression settling into gentle affection for the woman who had first
taken his heart, would always, Areshen supposed, remain first in his
heart.
Setith sighed again, reluctant affection settling
once more into her own features, though still, to Areshen's almost
ecstatic delight, a measure of resignation and defeat. No one, Areshen
realized, had ever before vanquished the warrior queen of Isin quite so
thoroughly, an explosively erotic thought. Areshen met Setith's eyes
again, very little affectation now in his own. Setith, vanquished
perhaps, but still a woman of stunning and absolute brilliance, recognized
in an instant the sensual fire in her husband's eyes, her own equally
ablaze a quick instant later as she sat a defeated warrior queen on the
couch, her hands and feet bound and chained, quite prepared to submit to
her conqueror’s demands and whims.
Areshen exchanged a final moment's gentler
amusement with Setith, the quick embrace of his first wife's eyes
something unique. Only with Setith, Areshen realized, did every
conceivable sort of fantasy work.
Areshen then settled into gentle warmth as he
reached for his cup, pondering as the evening wore on three women he
genuinely loved in quiet conversation with each other.
"Setiluth," Areshen had asked a few minutes earlier
walking in her arms through the palace's corridors, "it's not - a harem,
is it? I've always hated just the sound of the word. Those of Ibisien’s
predecessors were a joke in Hulsar when I was your age."
"No, father," Setiluth had answered in gentle ease
and amusement. "You have no harem, neither according to the social and
legal dictates of Holy Order, nor in fact. Gipul's and Ibisien's harems
are lawfully established palace institutions, Gipul's and Ibisien's wives
enjoying specified and substantial social privileges, Gipul's enjoying
their husband's attentions and affections to the extent that one man is
capable of expressing such toward several thousand women most of whom may
meet their husband once or twice during the course of their lives. You,
father, have simply asked four women you care about to be your wives,
nothing all that extraordinary either in Sumer or in the tribes save for
the fact that a king's wives are wives to the full extent of the law. Did
you wish to begin establishing harems, however, you would have to dispense
almost entirely with matters of the heart in order to assemble a harem of
respectable size, and I cannot imagine you dispensing with matters of the
heart, father."
Areshen again raised his eyes toward three women
sitting in quiet conversation on the chamber's couch. Perhaps, with time
and practice, he might even grow accustomed to sitting with all three in
the same chamber. A quick moment later, however, Setiluth holding one of
Eta's hands and Martila the other strolled into the chamber, and
