“Yes, one that requires the finest your House can offer. My friend Sabatu is a stranger to Akkad, and is recovering from his wounds. He may be leaving Akkad soon, and I wanted to give him one last night of pleasure. So don’t tempt me with your charms, save them all for my friend. Just ignore his protests.”
Sabatu did protest, but to no avail. Te-ara put her arm around his waist and rubbed her breast against his arm. “Then we will do everything in our power to entertain the honorable Sabatu.” She moved her lips to his cheek, and let them brush his ear.
Te-ara guided Sabatu down the hall and into a room. It contained a massive bed, one big enough for four people to sleep comfortably. A copper-colored blanket covered its surface, and three bright red pillows rested at the head.
“Take your ease, Sabatu,” Te-ara said. “I’ll be back with food and wine.”
She favored him with another smile and slipped from the room.
Daro lay down on the bed with a long sigh of relaxation, and clasped his hands behind his head. “Zenobia’s cooks are the best in Akkad. And the wine. . ah! Even Lady Trella’s table can’t match their quality. Some people claim that Zenobia adds a few drops of a secret love potion.”
Sabatu remained standing. “Daro, this is not something I want to do. I feel no urge for a woman. Even if I did, my body is too weak. . the scars.”
“Just lie down for a moment. You don’t have to do anything. But let us share one last meal together, as friends. Is that so much to ask?”
Before Sabatu could reply, two girls rushed into the room. One struggled with a large tray that held three pitchers and two cups. The second girl carried a platter that displayed bread, oil, dates, and Akkad’s famous sweet cakes. She climbed onto the bed beside Daro, set the platter down, and pulled off her dress, revealing firm breasts that glistened in the light of the room’s two candles.
“My name is Ducina, and I am for you, Sabatu.” She reached out and clasped his hand, and tugged him toward the bed.
“You’d better give in, Sabatu,” Daro said. “The girls get nothing to eat and earn no pay unless their customers are completely satisfied.”
“Yes, and I don’t want to have to whip their bottoms again,” Te-ara said, sweeping back into the chamber. “They enjoy it too much.” She guided a suddenly helpless Sabatu closer to the bed, pulled off her own garment, and jumped onto the mattress. She pulled Sabatu down onto a pillow, and popped a sweet cake into his mouth.
“Let’s start with these,” Te-ara said. “Then Ducina has other delicacies to tempt your lips.”
Daro laughed, a contented sound that filled the room. He reached for a wine cup. “Yes, there are always many delights to taste at Zenobia’s.”
The bright morning sun streaming through the tiny window woke Sabatu. His head hurt from too much wine and not enough sleep, and when he lifted it from the pillow, he found himself still at Zenobia’s. Ducina lay curled up along his right side, like a kitten, sleeping soundly. On his left, Te-ara lay clinging to his arm, her long hair scattered across his chest.
Trapped between them, Sabatu struggled to remember all the events of the evening. Despite his protests, the women had soon removed his garment, even as they kept offering food and wine. Unable to resist, he had drained one cup of wine, then another. Before long, Ducina was kneeling between his legs, sucking on his manhood with an energy that overwhelmed Sabatu.
But it was Te-ara who first mounted his rod, and she rode him with more skill than anything Sabatu had experienced in Elam. With Ducina’s breast in his mouth, he soon burst inside Te-ara. When she finally let him go, he lay there, as exhausted as if he’d mounted her and ridden her for half a night.
The girls scarcely noticed. They kept feeding him and refilling his wine cup even as they worked on his manhood without ceasing. This morning Sabatu could not even remember how many times he spent his seed.
Glancing around, Sabatu saw no sign of Daro, and didn’t even remember the man leaving. The two women, with the help from a few others who stopped in Sabatu’s chamber, had drained him completely even as they erased, at least for a brief time, the pain that burned in his heart.
Now the memories returned. His wife, his children, his family, all dead, their broken and bloody bodies dumped into the river. Nothing of Sabatu’s life remained. His very existence, his place in Elam’s society, had been ripped out by the roots.
The intense feelings of sorrow, humiliation, and defeat that had swept over him when Chaiyanar’s soldiers first tied him to the stake in the marketplace still remained. In fact, they burned as brightly as before, but the gloom and despair had transformed into an urge to take revenge on Chaiyanar.
Perhaps Daro was right. Perhaps something could be done, some way that Sabatu could strike a real blow against the man who tortured and murdered his wife and children. Any blow, even the slightest, would bring some relief to the spirits of his family, and to Sabatu’s own sense of honor.
With as much care as he could manage, Sabatu sat up in the bed, slipping from the embrace of the women. Neither one woke, despite his clumsy efforts to climb down off the bed. No doubt the women at Zenobia’s slept long in the morning, to make up for their hard work at night.
At last he got to his feet. Sabatu found his tunic and sandals piled neatly on a stool in the corner of the room. When he lifted the garment, he saw that someone had attached a sheathed knife to his belt. A parting gift from Daro no doubt, who understood the importance of a weapon to any soldier, even one who could not yet use it properly.
It took extra moments to dress, his maimed hands still refusing to work properly. But at last he finished. He stared down at the two naked women, both sleeping soundly. Even in repose, their beauty made him catch his breath. Sabatu had no coins, nothing to leave them for his long night of pleasure. They had asked for no payment. Te-ara had lavished her finest efforts on him at Daro’s simple suggestion. He hoped they would not think less of him.
Sabatu sighed. Perhaps one day he would return to this place, and enjoy again the company of Te-ara and Ducina.
He left the chamber, went down the steps, and out into the courtyard. Sabatu saw a few yawning servants moving about, before he passed by the guard still at the door. The bright sun, reflected off the spotless wall, made it difficult to see. Sabatu moved into the shade of the portico, until his eyes adjusted.
His thoughts returned to King Eskkar. He and Daro had both delivered the same message, without once speaking the words. A man could lose everything in his life, and still be a man as long as he kept his honor. And honor demanded that Sabatu avenge his family’s destruction, by any means, and no matter what the cost. Otherwise his whole life was wasted, his name deservedly forgotten.
In the end, the only thing that really counted was how a man lived, and how he died. Life was, after all, only a prelude to death, and no warrior should fear to die. Death is only one of the possible consequences of a man’s actions, neither valued nor feared above any other. Death is merely a release from a man’s obligations.
Last night, Te-ara and Ducina had shown Sabatu that life still went on, and that he was yet a man. Suddenly he remembered how Daro’s bow had felt in his hand yesterday, the power that had flowed from his arm to the shaft. Perhaps in time, Sabatu would be able to once again harness that power. And if he could guide an arrow to its mark, he could still fight. For the first time since he arrived in Akkad, Sabatu straightened his shoulders and lifted his head high.
His thoughts turned to his meeting with King Eskkar yesterday. A plain man, without pretensions. Perhaps there was more to being a king than a gilded throne or golden statues.