Dressed in a sky blue cotton gown fringed with white, Eliana walked in silence beside Ashan as he escorted her to Samsu's chambers.
In the nicest way she could, Mari had insisted that Eliana wear this dress – cotton was easier to scrub than silk, and easier to repair if ripped.
She was outwardly quiet and composed, mentally preparing herself for the fact that, for the immediate future, her body was not her own. At Kisha's bedroom shrine, she had prayed to Enlil for the strength to get through whatever was to come, and to Ninazu to heal her injuries quickly.
Ashan coughed quietly, 'how are you feeling?'
'Fine,' she replied. 'A little nervous.'
In truth, she was more than a little nervous, but until she knew more of this man, she would not say anything that he might repeat to Samsu to put her at more of a disadvantage than she already was. Samsu's guards were famously loyal.
'How are you liking it at the palace?'
'Well enough,' she said carefully. 'It is good to be with my sister again.'
'So, you're happy here? You have everything you need?'
'Everything but my freedom and my dignity!' she snapped. He was being kind, trying to take her mind from what was to come, but the questioning set her on edge.
Ashan fell silent.
'I'm sorry,' she said, a moment later. 'It's not your fault. Yes, I am happy enough here, thank you, between... interruptions. The palace is certainly more luxurious than my father's home.'
'Luxury always has its price,' observed Ashan. 'There are things you can do to ease his temper.'
She gave him a sideways glance. 'Like what?'
'Well, when we go in, just bow. Don't wait to be told, just do it, and do it the Babylonian way. Stay there until he decides to honour you with his attention, and never speak unless spoken to.'
Eliana nodded. All this she had already learned from experience.
'Certainly never look him in the eyes. Only once a man reaches the rank of general is he allowed to do that. Ermm,' he paused for thought, wrinkling his forehead. 'Seem willing. Above all, never question him.'
They had reached the chamber door. Eliana tried to commit all Ashan had said to memory, though much of it grated against her nature.
He caught her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. A little overwhelmed by the kindness, and still sure not to make of it, she squeezed back.
Entering the chamber, Ashan moved silently to his post. Eliana took a few steps into the room and sank gracefully into her bow. She waited, nervous anticipation mounting in her stomach.
Samsu sat on one of his floor cushions, the Brute on another nearby. Together, they were discussing a tablet that Samsu held.
She waited, and waited.
It seemed an eternity. Her knees began to hurt from being folded in two on the unforgiving tiles. She began to wonder if he hadn't noticed her.
The two men tossed the tablet back onto the pile in the middle of the rug and walked over to Eliana, speaking about her as though she couldn't hear.
'And so, the whore is here again,' said Samsu.
'She looks like a peasant,' growled the Brute. 'A palace woman in plain cotton?'
'She seems to be learning though. She bows and waits without making a sound. Does she come willingly yet?'
'No, sir. She runs, she hides, she screams, she fights. She is often conveniently absent when I visit for training. She has a lot to learn before she's worthy of a prince.'
'Oh, but this little wildcat is worth the effort. The greater the challenge, the greater the satisfaction when you succeed.' He turned to speak to Eliana, 'I know what you said, about me not breaking you, girl. Not a single word you speak within the walls of this palace escapes me. In case you haven't noticed, I have not even tried to break you... yet. I've been allowing my soldiers to warm you up, teach you the rudimentary basics while I serve out the term of a vow to Marduk. He speaks directly to me; he has promised me a son from your sister's belly if I abstain from the pleasures of the flesh until after the birth. Once my son is born, I will take on your training myself.'
Eliana tried not to shudder at the thought.
He continued, 'but my women must learn to be silent and quiescent. When you run from my men, you run from me, and that I will not tolerate. So,' he came to stand directly over her, 'to teach you a lesson, you will be flogged.'
Her stomach tightened in fear. The Brute flexed his fingers in delight.
'However, I am feeling... generous. I'll allow you to administer the strokes yourself.'
The Brute's face fell. Samsu turned to speak to him, 'how many times did you go to her rooms to find her missing?'
'Twice a day, for five days, sir.'
'Very well. Whore, you shall give yourself a lash for every instance of disobedience. Stand up.'
She stood on shaking knees. The Brute came up behind her and pulled her dress from her shoulders, tugging it to her waist, uncovering her breasts and back. He gathered her hair, twisted it into a knot and draped it over one shoulder, leaving her back exposed. He reached around and roughly grabbed one of her breasts in his calloused hand, giving it a painful squeeze.
Eliana flushed with shame and embarrassment – not to bare herself in front of Samsu and his henchman, who only saw her as a piece of meat, but to be displayed before Ashan, who treated her with compassion.
Over at his post, he stared straight ahead, giving no sign that he had noticed her nakedness.
The Brute walked over to a chest, withdrew a whip and handed it to Eliana.
She stared at it – a wooden handle with a lash of braided leather, soaked in milk and hardened in the sun, ending in a cruel iron-spiked tip.
'Ten strokes – off you go.' Samsu said.
Palms sweating, she flicked the lash over her shoulder, wincing as the tip caught her back.
'Properly!' he barked.
She flicked it again, harder, swallowing a cry against the sting.
Samsu gave her a hard look. He turned to the Brute. 'Show her.'
Seizing the whip, the Brute moved behind her and threw all his weight behind a vicious stroke across her shoulders – she screamed as the iron tip embedded itself into her shoulder and tore out again. A warm stream of blood flowed down her back, soaking into the gown at her waist.
'There. One.'
The Brute handed the whip back to Eliana. She took it with a shaking hand, knowing that she must use all her strength, or the Brute would deliver her punishment himself.
She flung the lash back with all her might, shrieking again as the spike shredded her tender skin, tears flowing uselessly down her cheeks.
'Two.'
Trying to carry herself out of her body, she imagined herself up on her tree branch, gazing up at the wide open sky.
By the time she had finished, her back was flayed open and her gown soaked in blood. She could barely move her arms to deliver the final stroke.
She dropped the bloodied whip to the ground.
Samsu laughed. 'Now that you've been punished for your transgression, you must give this man what you denied him.' He gestured towards the Brute, who looked back at Eliana, an unbearable smugness imprinted on his features. He hitched up his tunic.
Eliana did not move.
'Go!' Samsu bellowed.
Still she stood there.
'Very well, perhaps you would like a few more lashes?'
She shrugged, slowly and deliberately, each tiny motion setting her agony aflame again.
Ashan's eyes flicked to her face, silently urging her not to rebel, but she would not allow Samsu to achieve his goal. She could not bend to his whims, whatever dire retribution he promised. It would almost be a relief to experience the worst he could offer so that she would no longer have to live in fear.
Then Samsu did something truly shocking – he laughed. Long and loud and full, he laughed. 'You will be a challenge indeed; one that I shall greatly enjoy. He shall not force you, because you must learn to go of your own free will.'
Against all wisdom, her hopes leapt.
'If you do not care for your own safety, perhaps there is someone you care for more?'
Her heart sank.
'Asag!' he called.
A young man stepped into the room, so ugly that it was immediately apparent why he had been named for the monstrous demon whose mere presence made fish boil alive in the rivers. His hand was clamped around a girl's upper arm, his dagger against her prominent belly.
'Elly!' cried Kisha, pleadingly. Asag backhanded her across the face, and she fell silent.
The colour drained from Eliana's face, but her expression did not change. Samsu would not chance the heir he had bargained for with Marduk, just to spite her.
As if reading her thoughts, Samsu looked at her and laughed again. 'You think I won't hurt her, just because she's with child? Wives are easily found, and children just as easily made.'
Asag pressed his dagger harder against Kisha's belly, making a hole in her gown.
Looking at the frenzy in her sister's eyes, it was clear that Kisha believed that Samsu would do it. If she believed it, so must Eliana.
She walked slowly to the Brute, every step a torment, her head held high. She knelt before him, hatred firing every part of her.
Taking him in her mouth, she thought only of why she was doing this. Of Kisha and her child.
When she gagged, the Brute was spent, and the ordeal finished, Samsu nodded, pleased. 'There. That was not so hard. You will learn to come willingly, or those you love will suffer for your pride. Get up.'
Eliana stood, considering covering her naked chest, but not sure she could bear the touch of the fabric against her maimed back.
Samsu snapped, 'Ashan! Return the women to their rooms. I am finished with them for tonight.'
Ashan strode past, beckoning to Eliana and prising Kisha from Asag's grip.
They made their way back by moonlight, without so much as a torch-bearer light the path. Kisha clung to Ashan. He walked in silence, not looking at Eliana with her breasts still bared. There was an expression on his face that she could not place – perhaps it was shame.
Mari opened the door for them. Eliana went inside without a second glance at Ashan; if he would not speak to her, she certainly would not beg for his conversation.
As she lay gingerly onto a couch, face-down, she heard him mutter to Mari, 'make sure you wash her wounds and anoint them with St John's Wort so that they do not fester. We've lost many a good man on the battlefield from a seemingly minor wound, and she must live to fight another day. I'll obtain some white willow bark tincture from mother's physician and send it on, for the pain.'
Nodding and whispering a goodnight, Mari came back into the room and lit a torch to find Eliana already semi-unconscious, suddenly weak with blood loss.
The kindness in Ashan's gaze lingered in her mind's eye, the last thing she saw before she drifted into sleep.