“Then you will leave in the morning.” Subutai sounded resigned to the desperate measure. “Jennat and Garal will accompany you. I can’t spare any more men. Each of you will take an extra horse. You will need to ride hard, in order to reach them as soon as possible.” He turned to Fashod. “You will make everything ready tonight?”
“Yes, Sarum,” Fashod replied. “Come, Sargon, we have much to do before we can enjoy the feast.”
“I will send riders to Akkad, to warn them of the danger,” Subutai said. “Meanwhile, do not tell the others about the danger until the feast is over. I will tell everyone in the morning. Let them enjoy this one night of celebration before we start our preparations.”
His words brought somber looks to their faces. In their rush to action, they had almost forgotten the effect this would have on the Clan.
26
Subutai stood and watched the others leave the tent. He knew the enormity of what had befallen the Ur Nammu had not yet taken hold in their minds. Only Namar understood the disaster rushing toward them. Fashod and the others still thought in terms of fighting and dealing with this new enemy.
Nor did Sargon understand what he had brought upon himself. The boy — no, he had to be considered a man now since he had fought in a battle where the enemy had died — didn’t realize that his own death almost certainly loomed over him.
At least I won’t have to tell his father. I’ll be dead, too, as will most, if not all, of the Ur Nammu Clan.
Other than leaving the women and children behind, to fall prey to the invaders, Subutai saw no hope for survival. And neither he nor his warriors would ever leave their families to such a fate. Better to die with honor.
Once before, as a young warrior, he had witnessed the near destruction of his clan. He, too, had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Alur Meriki. That time an outcast warrior named Eskkar and a small band of Akkadians had struck down Subutai’s enemies and saved the last of the Ur Nammu from annihilation.
More than fifteen years had passed since that day, long years during which Subutai had struggled to rebuild the strength and numbers of his clan. Now, just when the Ur Nammu seemed poised to grow strong and powerful again, these new invaders had arrived to plunder the land and destroy his people. Without help, Subutai would be the last Sarum of the Ur Nammu.
He sighed in resignation, and stepped out of the tent. The high-pitched voices of the young and the bustling activity of the women greeted him. The warriors he’d met with had already departed, all except Sargon, who stood talking with — Tashanella? Subutai had to look twice to be sure. She and Sargon faced each other, less than a pace apart. His young daughter, however, had vanished, transformed into a beautiful woman.
Instead of her usual baggy and patched dress, Tashanella now wore a fine garment, with bright red stitching across the neck, and decorated with brown and black beads. Fringes of leather strips revealed her bare arms. Square cut across her chest, this dress revealed the outlines of her youthful breasts, and its shorter length showed her tanned legs. Subutai recognized the necklace of bright yellow and green gemstones that graced her neck. He had given it to Roxsanni years ago.
Subutai didn’t remember the last time he’d seen Tashanella other than barefoot, but now she displayed new sandals whose laces, also fringed, hugged her calves. And she had somehow transformed her usually unkempt hair in long and lustrous waves that fell across her shoulders.
Sargon appeared as surprised and confused as Subutai. He stood awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to say.
Other men and boys passing by stared at Tashanella as well, as if they had never seen the Sarum’s daughter before. Two girls frowned at the young woman who had suddenly appeared in their midst, while three others laughed and smiled at the sight of Sargon, helpless in Tashanella’s gaze.
Her mother, Roxsanni, saw Subutai staring open mouthed. She crossed the space between the women’s tent and his. A moment later, his other and senior wife, Petra, put down her chopping knife and, wiping her hands on her skirt, followed after Roxsanni.
“Come inside, Subutai,” Roxsanni said. Without waiting for his assent or reply, she ducked into the tent the clan leaders had just vacated.
Subutai remained rooted to the spot, his eyes still fastened on his daughter. He clenched his fists. Petra took his arm. “Come inside, Husband.” She lifted the tent flap, waited until he stepped inside, then followed him.
“What is this. . display?”
“Sit, Subutai, please,” Roxsanni said. “We knew this day was coming. Now it has arrived.”
“Why is she dressed that way, showing herself. .”
“You know that Tashanella passed through the rites four months ago. Since then she has tried not to call attention to herself, lest one of the warriors ask for her as a bride.”
“But now she has chosen,” Petra said. “She has fixed her eyes on Sargon. It is for him that she has taken up a woman’s clothes.”
“And you have helped her in this, and you, too, Petra?” Subutai shook his head. “I knew she went through the rites, but I thought she wanted to stay with us awhile longer, until. .”
“Until some warrior offered enough horses for her, or you decided to reward some brave act, or use her to seal a peace between two families.” Petra shook her head. “Instead she has chosen for herself.”
“None of the warriors in the clan are worthy of our daughter,” Roxsanni said. “Tashanella is too gifted just to sit in a tent and raise babies. She can be one of the Special Ones, allowed to sit in the councils of men.”
In rare instances, women whose wit and wisdom made itself manifest, were allowed to sit with the men in council. Such a woman had not appeared in Subutai’s lifetime, nor in his father’s, but it had happened. Everyone acknowledged Trella, Eskkar’s wife, as one of the “Special Ones.”
“Now it is up to you, Husband, to chose.” Petra took Roxsanni’s hand and squeezed it. “After tonight, every warrior in the camp will want to possess her. The burning in her loins has come to her. She cannot remain here under your tent any longer, or there will be trouble and fighting. Tashanella must have a husband of her own to speak for her.”
Subutai sank to the ground, crossed his legs, and stared up at his wives. Outside, the sounds of the celebration for Chinua’s return grew louder, as voices rose up all around the Sarum’s tent.
Petra allowed Subutai no time to gather his thoughts or raise an objection. “That means, Husband, that the time has come for you to select a husband for our daughter. Is there any of your warriors who deserves such a prize? Is it not better to give her to the son of a king?”
Subutai realized his mouth was open. He felt the urge to order them out, to tell them to send his daughter to him for a good beating.
Both of his wives had helped Tashanella conceal her blossoming womanhood these last months. Even as he spoke with his leaders, his wives would have helped Tashanella dress and array herself. And now they sat united across from him.
“Sargon is but a spoiled and foolish child.” Subutai’s voice filled the tent. “He is nothing but a boy cast out by his father. And his mother, too. Eskkar told me Trella had decided that her son was better off banished or dead, than remaining inside their tent.”
“He is young and foolish,” Petra agreed. “But he will not be young much longer, and I don’t think he will remain foolish. We’ve spoken to Garal and Chinua several times, and Chinua’s wives as well. They all agree that Sargon has changed from what he was the day he first came to us. And if he continues to change, then he will be king in Akkad someday.”
Subutai shook his head. Women constantly whispered about their men behind their backs, always trying to influence their men. Little enough privacy existed in the clan as it was.