Ashan's knock came at the usual time; only this time, it was for Eliana.
She was dressed in a gown of leaf-green beaded and embroidered in gold, with the faintest dusting of vermillion on her lips and cheeks to hide her frightened pallor.
Kisha hugged her in silence – she had no more advice to give. She knew that whatever guidance she gave to her volatile little sister, urging her to calm and placidity, would be ignored the moment that Samsu said something to rile her.
Eliana left with Ashan. He was unusually quiet as he escorted her to Samsu's rooms, though she could find the way herself by now.
'Ashan?' she asked, tentatively. 'What's wrong? What should I expect?'
'He means to have you tonight,' he said, his voice clipped and tight. 'But I cannot tell you what to expect – he's had rather a lot to drink.'
'Well, this could be interesting then,' she tried to make light of it. 'I can't imagine him drunk.'
'You will not have to imagine it.'
They walked in silence until they reached the familiar carved door that always filled Eliana with dread.
When she entered the room, she was astonished to see Samsu lounging half-dressed across his floor cushions, a jar of date wine still in one hand, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.
She was so taken aback that she forgot to bow. The prince did not even seem to notice. Ashan went to his usual post, one of four guards in the chamber, as ever. Slowly, as if his skull weighed more than the rest of his whole body, Samsu brought his head straight and concentrated his gaze on Eliana.
'You're poison, d'you know that?' he lurched to his feet, fingers reaching out for something to grasp onto and finding only air. He staggered a little.
'Me, poison?' Eliana didn't know whether to be shocked or laugh aloud at the absurdity.
'You're nothing but a wretched shade, come up from the underworld to torment me, are you not?'
Eliana was astonished, thinking that Samsu had run mad. 'No, I'm not. Whose shade would I be?'
'You are,' he insisted. 'How else could you have bewitched me? You take the form of the only person to ever love me and ensnare me with those eyes of dark fire that sear my flesh and bone. I pray to Marduk daily to protect me from your spells.' He walked unsteadily to her and caught up a lock of her hair. 'Enchantments as black and twisted as your raven curls.'
'I didn't ask for this! If you don't want me here then set me free!' she snapped back without thinking.
'Quiet!' he barked. 'That was always your problem, Eshnunna. If you had been obliging and acquiescent when you had the chance, you would still be alive!'
He sat abruptly on the bed and dropped his head into his hands. Eliana was stunned. When he didn't move and she could stand the curiosity no longer, she moved to stand beside him.
Placing a light hand on his shoulder, she asked gently, 'who was Eshnunna?'
He shrugged her off. 'Don't touch me. Kneel. You do not stand higher than me.' His voice was still muffled by his hands and he did not look up.
She folded her legs beneath her and sat back on her heels, watching him with fascination.
'Eshnunna was my sister, and you are as like her as a resurrected spirit. She didn't know what was good for her either. Full of life and laughter, outspoken and rebellious. She raised me much as your sister raised you – nobody else paid me much heed, the youngest of the three sons. Our parents were occupied with my two elder brothers as they fought over the chance to be crown prince; Eshnunna was the only one who ever cared about me. If she had just obeyed our father, she would still be alive today.'
'What happened?' whispered Eliana.
'She would not marry where she was bid, she was seventeen years old, in love with some trainee priest. She married him in secret. A royal princess, promised to my wife's father, Simash, King of Elam, and she threw herself away on a nobody. The disobedience could not stand – she left our alliance with the Elamites in tatters. It was the excuse they needed to declare war.'
He was lost in his own past. Eliana sat in silence, not wanting to distract him from telling her more.
'Father had the priest thrown from the top of his own temple for despoiling a royal daughter. Eshnunna was inconsolable, secluding herself in her room at the top of the ladies' tower. Father tried time and again to get her to come out – bribing, cajoling, threatening, begging, none of it worked. Finally, in a rage, he gave her a choice: come out within the hour, or be bricked up in there.'
'And she didn't come out?'
'No. Father was true to his word – he has never been one for idle threats. He sealed her inside. I went up there every day for a week to speak to her and try to keep her spirits up, not really accepting that she would never come out again. Then on the eighth day, I had no response but silence. I beat my fists bloody on that wall, to no effect. For all I know, she's entombed there still. Her name was never spoken by my family again.'
Without warning, his head snapped up, black eyes boring into hers, reading the pity there. Face contorting with fury, he struck as fast as a hunting eagle, grabbing her by the throat, pulling her up and pinning her onto the bed, his hand uncomfortably tight on her windpipe.
She tried to keep her face impassive, not to show the fear.
'You look just like her,' he hissed. 'You sound like her, you act like her. It's like you do it on purpose, to torture me. But where she was warm and loving, you have only ice for blood.'
Eliana stared back, the pity washed away by hatred.
'You are not even supposed to be here, still,' he hissed. 'I intended to bring you here to teach you a woman's place – force you to the obedience that Eshnunna never learned, do for you what my father never could for her. Train you, break your pride, have you and send you home. If you had just surrendered you would be back with your father already; but even when you pretend to acquiesce, as you are now, you can't do it convincingly. If looks were blades, I'd be dead from a thousand wounds.'
He increased the pressure on her neck, making it difficult to draw breath.
'You are poison,' he repeated. 'I close my eyes, and all I see, all I feel, is you. Even when I don't want to touch you, it's like you're under my skin. Your voice pricks like a hundred needles, and still I want to hurt you, just to hear you scream my name. Your pain thrills me, you arouse me with a look, even a look of hatred – but when I go to take you, all I see is Eshnunna.'
Curling his free hand into her hair, he gave a hard yank. Eliana cried out in pain.
Samsu laughed. A cruel sound, devoid of mirth. 'I can face and defeat any man in battle, but I needed drink to take you tonight,' he slurred. 'It's not my fault – it's yours, with your witchcraft. Well,' he fumbled at his tunic, 'you will be mine, body and soul, or I will burn you as you burn me.'
Panic overtook her as he began to push at her dress – it took all her self restraint to remain still.
His movements were sluggish, clumsy and laboured. After a moment, he lay still, breathing deeply, crushing her under his weight.
Eliana's heart leapt – could she really be so fortunate? She lay there for several minutes, waiting for him to continue.
There was nothing but his long, even breaths.
Almost holding her own breath, and moving painstakingly slowly, she eased herself out from under him. It seemed to take an eternity, but it was worth it to not wake him.
Inch by inch, she wriggled out until she was able to slither to the floor.
She stood beside the bed, looking down on at his prone body. Her gaze was irresistibly drawn to the blade at his belt.
Leaning over, she slipped it from its sheath. The iron reflected the torches as though lit by the sun – it seemed to glow in her hands. She thought she had never seen anything so beautiful as she fingered the blade, taking note of Samsu's exposed neck.
Eliana jumped as someone cleared their throat behind her, so quietly as to be almost inaudible. She wheeled around – Ashan stood there. With a jolt, she remembered the other three guards at their posts – Samsu never slept alone, he knew he was a hated tyrant in a conquered city, and was rightly paranoid.
'What are you doing with that?' he breathed.
'Thinking of using it on myself,' she lied.
Gently prising the blade from her fingers and placing it on a carved wooden table inset with ivory beside the bed, he took her arm and led her from the room.
The door closed softly behind them – Eliana breathed a deep sigh of relief.
'The ordeal is postponed for another night!' she smiled.
'Thank your god for it,' Ashan replied gravely. 'Your luck will not hold out forever.'
'I didn't realise he hated me so much – I was afraid he'd gone insane for a minute.'
'For as long as I've known him, Samsu has always been touched by his sister's death. He grew up the neglected youngest child – ignored by disinterested parents and resented by a bitter wife almost 15 years his senior. His nature was never pleasant, but nothing in his life has helped to improve it.'
Eliana's brain worked fast, trying to piece the puzzle together. 'So, if he was the youngest of three sons, how has he come to be heir?'
'The two elder princes killed each other in their fight to be created crown prince. They struggled bitterly against each other for Hammurabi's affection; with just two years separating them in age, he declared that the title would go to the worthiest son, rather than going to the eldest. Samsu was seven years younger, so never really in the running.'
She gasped, 'so much death in the pursuit of power! How did they destroy each other?'
'The eldest shot the middle son, the favourite, with an arrow while they were out hunting. He always swore it was an accident, but Hammurabi didn't believe him. The King is a fierce advocate of equal punishment and justice for all, whomsoever they may be, so he banished his eldest son to Egypt. The boy met with a convenient accident along the way – slipping off his horse as they forded a river. A week later, he washed up a few villages down.'
'And Samsu?'
'His father only had one child left, so he kept him on a tight rein – encouraged him to be commanding, punish the guilty, reward the loyal. Samsu had a strict, military upbringing from then on. Hammurabi had ambitions to expand the empire, and his son needed to be able to hold it when he came of age. As a teenager, the prince notionally commanded the army, but was learning under experienced generals. He had a natural aptitude for it – he revels in blood and chaos. By his late teens, he had the command in truth, and by age twenty he took his first city for the King.'
'So how did he come to Nippur?' Eliana was eager to learn as much about this man as she could – any knowledge she could use to manipulate him into freeing her and Kisha was more valuable than the weight of the gold around her neck.
Ashan shrugged. 'As a gift on his twenty-first birthday, Hammurabi told him to choose a nearby city to conquer and reign from as crown prince. He chose Nippur.'
'And you? You never did tell me how you came to be here.'
'The prince and I grew up together, we are as close as brothers. When he chose his men for the conquest, he picked me for my loyalty, and the Brute for his fearsome reputation.'
They had reached the door to Kisha's rooms. Ashan gathered her into his arms for the briefest moment, 'that is why we can never be together.' He kissed her forehead and left her there, staring after him as he melted away into the night, trying to process all she had learned.