“And if he decides not to marry her, or to take her only as a concubine or slave, then what? Or what will happen when he grows tired of her, or if he returns to Akkad?”
Even as he said the words, Subutai knew he was losing the argument. Of course he could order Tashanella to abandon any hope for Sargon, but the time for that might have already passed.
His wives were both good women, and, unlike many other wives sharing a husband, they had formed a bond of friendship. Subutai knew the gods had blessed him with two good bedmates who understood how to use their wits. Now he found it difficult to argue with them. “Roxsanni, knowing what might befall her, you are in favor of this?”
“Wife, concubine, love slave, Tashanella does not care. She would prefer any of those fates to marrying one of the warriors in our clan.”
“You know your daughter’s worth, Husband,” Petra said. “Who in our clan would you give her to?”
Subutai opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could think of no warrior in the camp worthy of his daughter and her special gifts. His wives were right about that.
“And this is what my daughter wants?”
“Yes.” Petra and Roxsanni said the word in unison.
He took a huge breath and let it out. “Then you will see to her protection. I will not have her humiliated over this.”
“Yes, Husband,” Petra said. “We will keep our eyes on them both.”
“You are a wise father and a great leader,” Roxsanni said. “Tashanella will love you even more than she does now.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He looked from one to the other. “It doesn’t really matter anyway. Sargon will be dead in a few days. We may all be dead in a few days.”
He took some grim satisfaction from the looks of confusion that crossed their faces. Then he told them about the invading Carchemishi, and Sargon’s offer to ride to the Alur Meriki.
Just after dawn, Subutai summoned everyone in the clan to the open area near the stream. The unusual order caught everyone by surprise. Everyone crowded close as Subutai, on his horse, faced his people and told them of the events in the west, and the threat that now existed for the Ur Nammu.
Most listened in stunned silence. From the revelry the night before, they now faced the prospect of fleeing for their lives. Some of the women broke into tears, clutching their youngest babies to their breasts. Even the warriors could not conceal all their concern.
Subutai ordered them to bury or hide their most valuable possessions, though he warned everyone the invaders likely would discover such places. They should take only food, water, and all the weapons they could carry. Everything else must be left behind.
Stunned silence continued as Subutai went on. All who could ride would take a horse. Those too old or too young to handle a mount would double up behind a boy or warrior. At the end, Subutai offered a glimmer of hope, telling them that Fashod and Sargon were leaving to seek help from the Alur Meriki, and that riders would also be dispatched to the nearest Akkadian outpost.
From the edge of the stream, just as far away as he could stand and still hear the Sarum speak, Sargon watched Subutai deliver the evil tidings. As the grim words washed over the clan, Sargon held Tashanella’s hand.
At a time like this, such a public gesture would be considered a weakness by most of the warriors, but he didn’t care. Besides, no one in the clan had time for any thoughts about either of them. Survival had suddenly become the only issue.
“Your father will protect you,” Sargon told her.
“He will do what he can.” Tashanella leaned against Sargon’s shoulder. “The danger you face will be even greater.”
Last night, as soon as the feast began, he and Tashanella had slipped away in the darkness. Carrying a blanket, they crossed the stream and left the encampment behind. In a sheltered grove, Sargon spread the blanket on the ground, and with the frantic urgency of youth, they made love in the moonlight.
Sargon, despite the fire that burned in his loins, had restrained himself, taking his time, until Tashanella’s own passions made her forget her fears. When he moved astride her, she moaned in anticipation, and her brief cry of pain turned into a long sigh of pleasure. Within moments, she matched his own ardor, clutching his arms and wrapping her slender legs around him.
For Sargon, too, this was a first time. The first time he’d ever concerned himself with a woman’s needs and feelings. Her desire inflamed him, and he held back as long as he could, until he heard her cry out with the pleasure of the gods. Then he burst inside her, shuddering as he emptied his seed into her womb.
When he collapsed beside her, she held him tight, her strong arms keeping him pressed against her. They lingered in each other’s arms, whispering words of endearment, words that once Sargon would have thought to be foolish and unmanly. But with Tashanella, he experienced the pleasure of loving someone who wanted him as much as he desired her.
Afterwards, Sargon had revealed both the threat to the clan from the Carchemishi, and the plan to seek help from the Alur Meriki. Tashanella had cried out at the idea, but she lived her life surrounded by warriors, and danger was no stranger to any Ur Nammu, man or woman.
A man’s honor required that he do his utmost to help his kin and his clan, no matter what the risk. Women possessed their own code of honor, one that required them to be strong for their men and their children, and if needed, to fight beside their husbands.
Nevertheless, thoughts of the approaching enemy faded from Sargon’s mind, replaced by the soft feel of Tashanella’s breasts, and her hand that, gently at first, aroused his manhood. They made love a second time.
When they finally returned to the camp, the celebration had ended. Sargon escorted her to Subutai’s tents, where her mother, Roxsanni, waited alone beside the fire’s ashes. She pretended not to see Sargon, but placed her arm around Tashanella’s waist and guided her into the tent.
After the tent flap closed behind them, Sargon slowly made his went to Chinua’s tent and his own blanket., falling asleep almost as soon as he cradled his arms over his head.
Now, in the chill of the dawn, Sargon and Tashanella stood side by side, listening to her father speak to his people.
Subutai finished his speech, and the crowd broke apart, everyone hurrying to their tents. A babble of voices filled the camp, some of the women already wailing in their grief. Tashanella swayed against Sargon, and lifted her face to his. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her lips, a long, lingering sharing of their hearts. When he ended the embrace, tears glistened in her eyes.
“I will come back for you no matter what,” he promised.
“And I will be waiting.”
“I must go. It’s already late, and Fashod and the others will be eager to depart.”
Still holding her hand, they walked back toward the camp. Fashod’s tent was on the way, and the clan’s second in command already stood by his horse. Garal and Jennat stood beside him. If they thought Sargon’s behavior odd or unmanly, no one said anything.
Sargon released Tashanella’s hand and let her continue on her own. She, too, would have much to do, helping her family prepare for their flight. He stared at her lithe form as she walked away, her shoulders shaking with her tears, but she was too strong to glance back or slow her step. Sargon wondered if he would ever see her again.
“Are you ready to ride?” Fashod’s voice held only concern. Nor did he say anything about waiting for Sargon’s arrival.
“Yes.” Sargon and Garal had made their preparations earlier. Sargon had selected two prime horses from Fashod’s own stock, and Garal had approved the choices. The animals, big, powerful, and well trained, stood waiting.
“Then you’ll need this.” Fashod handed Sargon a sword. “Your father left it with Subutai, to give to you. . when the time was right.”
Sargon drew the blade halfway from the scabbard and glanced at the weapon. It was not the sword he’d carried in Akkad. This one lacked any ornamentation on the guard, and the hilt was bound in plain leather strips with a simple ball as the counterweight.