Eshnunna’s name was not spoken again; the court donned no mourning, no ambassador asked what had become of her. It was as if she had never existed. But Susa could not forget her.
In the dark weeks that followed, she kept close to Ani. Her level-headed, plain-speaking sister was a rock for her to cling to, the only person that reminded Susa of who she was and where she came from.
Ashan, with a child’s enviable adaptability, had already adjusted to life as a Babylonian, and seemed to embrace his new identity, while Susa clung to her old one like a drowning man clings to a rock. She would never forget her home, and never give up hope of returning her son to it. She would be queen of Babylon someday – if she could build up enough influence with whichever prince she was forced to marry, perhaps she could persuade him to instil Ashan as governor there. Once Ashan ruled the place, a coup could be staged... even if it cost her own life, it would be worth it if they succeeded.
But she was getting ahead of herself, she knew. It would be a decade until Ashan was old enough to go on campaign with the army, let alone rule a city. And it had not even been decided which prince she would marry yet.
It was whispered that Hammurabi would settle the matter within the month. The King’s birthday celebrations were imminent – two weeks of festivities, feasts and games were planned, to culminate in a great hunt at the end of the fortnight. The rumourmongers said that whichever boy excelled in those days would be invested as crown prince.
Susa did not often see two princes, but when she was in their company, she was keenly aware of the simmering rivalry between them. Whatever they did, they strove to out-do each other. When one achieved something, it earned him a black look and a sour word from the other, and one’s disappointment was cause for the other’s celebration.
Though she had never had a full sibling to be a rival for her inheritance, Susa had never imagined the relationship could be so intense. With such a great prize at stake, they fought each other fiercely.
The outcome could never be happy – she was certain of that. She had read her histories. When brothers were rivals for power, whichever one gained it would have to do away with the other, or else risk a reign of instability and rebellion. One of these princes would not live to be an old man, she was sure.
Malku and Nisitu grew ever-more competitive as the opening of the celebrations drew near, even competing for Susa’s affections, as though her preference would have any effect on the outcome. They strove to out-do each other in courtesy and consideration for her, to win a smile or a kind word from her lips. Knowing full well that their affection stemmed from ambition, she was not fooled.
The tension boiled over at the very first feast of the festival. Fuelled and emboldened by wine, both princes made a beeline for Susa as soon as the formal part of the feast was concluded. Her heart sank as she saw them approaching, each quickening their steps in an attempt to beat the other. They arrived simultaneously, shoulders jarring as they bowed before her.
‘Your Highnesses,’ she returned the bow.
‘You look stunning this evening, princess,’ Malku’s thin lips stretched into a forced smile as he paid the compliment.
‘Like Ishtar come down to Earth,’ agreed Nisitu, baring small, even teeth in an imitation of his brother’s smile.
There was an awkward silence as they cast about for something else to say.
Susa suppressed a chuckle, tried hard not to roll her eyes. These poor boys – they had no idea how to woo a woman! Her heart had been wooed and won many years ago by a real man who was worth a whole army of these princelings. Their strained compliments and false courtesy would win them no love from her. She couldn’t wait to be rid of them – perhaps she could use their rivalry to her advantage.
‘A worthy bride for a worthy crown prince, I hope,’ she said softly, the corners of her mouth turning upwards as she looked from one to the other. ‘I hear the matter is already decided, that your father has chosen his successor?’
Of course, she had heard nothing of the sort.
Their jaws dropped, their faces twin pictures of astonishment. Malku recovered himself quickly, ‘What have you heard, Your Highness? Who told you? We must prevent the news from spreading further, until Father is ready to make the announcement.’
Nisitu was less subtle. ‘Who?’ he demanded. ‘Who has he chosen? If you know, you must tell us!’
Susa feigned surprise, ‘Why, you don’t know? The whole court is talking of it. He has chosen the strongest, quickest-witted, bravest son – all are in agreement that it is a good choice. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you which of you that is. If you’ll forgive me, Your Highnesses, I’m accustomed to putting my son to his bed this time – I must be excused a while.’
She dipped a little bow and made her way up to the nursery to see Ashan to bed, glad to be free of them. When she knew which one she must marry, then she would make an effort to strike up some sort of a friendship, to try to cozen some sort of affection and influence from him that might one day improve Ashan’s chances. Until then, she would prefer to keep the pair of them at arm’s length.
When she returned to the hall, the feast was over. Slaves were hard at work setting things to rights. So orderly and grand just an hour ago, the whole place was now chaotic as the underworld. Tables and benches had been upturned, shattered pottery littered the floor, streams of wine flowed between the joins in the floor tiles and pooled in dips and cracks. A darker red swirled in with the wine.
‘You, boy,’ she pointed to a slave and crooked her finger. ‘Come here.’
His eyes were wide with fright as he approached her. The plate in his hand trembled as he said, ‘Yes, my lady?’
‘Don’t shake so – I’m not here to do anything terrible to you. I just want you to tell me what happened.’
‘A fight, my lady. Between the princes and their men. One man died.’ He all but whispered the last three words.
‘Who?’
‘A soldier, trying to separate them. He took a blade to the stomach. The king shouted – his anger was dreadful. He said the princes have brought shame upon him and their house.’
‘You are dismissed,’ she murmured.
Back in her rooms, Susa knelt at the altar and bowed her head, awash with guilt. She prayed for forgiveness.
Her father had once told her that this was the way with royalty – a word could draw blood as surely as a blade – but she had never prepared herself for the reality. Her little deception had cost a man his life, had perhaps created another widow.
*
She had no time to come to terms with her guilt – her presence was required at one event or another on every day of the festival. In her person, Hammurabi had a marker of his power. He displayed her proudly, a captive princess from a conquered land. She smiled serenely and raised her hand to acknowledge the acclaim of the people, doing her duty as her father would have wanted despite her growing resentment.
The princes were not seen together again for the whole of the fortnight – neither would risk his father’s wrath by disobeying a direct order. They continued to pay court to Susa separately, but she sensed a new wariness in them both, as though every word she spoke could be tainted. She tried to shrug it off, but the implicit accusation stung.
By the final day of the festival, she was exhausted. She had done little, but the effort of maintaining her poise whilst on display for so long had drained her. Her sister dressed her to attend the hunt, pinching her cheeks and lips to draw some colour into them.
‘It’s no good,’ Susa held up her hand to stop her. ‘I feel like a spirit person, Ani. Like my identity is being drained out of me. I’m nothing but the hostage princess now – I need the marriage matter settled so that I can start to build a new self.’
‘But... you don’t want the marriage, surely?’
‘Of course not, but I cannot fight the inevitable. If I must remarry, I must leave my old self behind – bury her alongside Awan...’ her voice cracked and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She paused a second, took a breath, wiped them away. ‘Do you know, I can’t even recall his features now? If I didn’t have Ashan, I might forget what he looked like altogether. I feel so disloyal.’
Ani put her arms around her sister, soothing her. ‘Hush now, there’s nothing disloyal in that. As you say, you must remarry. The gods have plans for you yet.’
Taking a deep breath, Susa steadied herself, pushed her tears away. ‘They do, and so does Hammurabi. I had best be getting down to the hunt.’
Elaborate pavilions had been set up at the edge of the hunting ground, with great swathes of linen stretched taut over frames to provide shelter from the searing sun.
For the first time since the great brawl, Malku and Nisitu were together again. They shot each other dark looks, muttering curses, but neither dared to approach the other under their father’s eye. In the royal pavilion, Hammurabi and his queen sat atop a dais, with Samsu, Ashan and Susa seated just beneath them. The court swirled around them as the two hunting parties, one to be led by each prince, mounted up outside the tent. Nazaru would ride with Malku, at Hammurabi’s invitation.
Malku and Nisitu strode in side by side and bowed abruptly before their father.
He nodded and raised his hand in blessing, ‘May Marduk ride with you and bring you good fortune, my sons.’
‘Father.’ They bowed again before turning and stalking out without so much as looking at Susa.
Through the linen wall, she heard the riders move out. She took a deep breath – by the end of today, it would be decided. Her life would have some direction again. Malku or Nisitu. They were as one to her, there was little to choose between them, but she would finally have a status again, some purpose at last. Even Ashan hardly needed her any more, spending most of his time with Samsu.
She went to stand beside the queen and tried to make conversation. Every attempt was met with polite indifference – a perfumed incline of the head and a brief, softly spoken answer that invited no further comment.
Susa soon gave up – she went to sit with the two boys where they played in a corner of the tent. Her son received her with a bright smile and a dutiful kiss. Samsu scowled and turned away. Try as she might, she could not get him to speak a word to her. She shrugged and turned her attention back to Ashan; Samsu had always been a strange child.
No more than two hours had gone by before the clatter of approaching hooves was heard outside the pavilion. Everybody looked up in alarm – the hunting parties were not expected back until the sun touched the horizon. The royal family hastened to meet the rider.
It was Malku’s party returning, led by Nazaru on his great black warhorse. An indistinct shape was slung across the horse’s rump. His kill, Susa supposed.
As Nazaru came closer, it became obvious that this was no animal; moreover, it wasn’t dead. He reined up in front of them, dismounted and bowed stiffly.
Hammurabi’s face purpled with rage. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded. ‘Why is my eldest son trussed up like a gazelle on your horse’s backside?’
‘He has committed a great crime, sir. I captured him to return him for your justice. Prince Nisitu is dead, shot by an arrow from Prince Malku’s own bow.’
The colour drained out of Hammurabi’s face like wine spilling from a drinking bowl. He staggered, ashen with the shock. There was a soft thump as Queen Eresai collapsed into the dust in a dead faint.