I, the Sun Page 9

  I sent to Tuthaliyas saying that the enemy would have to be chased into our arms, but the Great King was not in Hattusas. The sky grew low and the farmers took in their harvests and still we were in the Upper Country, patrolling the borders.

  When Tuthaliyas returned to Hatti he sent word to me that the enemy who had been burning towns had attacked the king on his campaign, and that the Sun had barely escaped with his life. Further, he gave me leave to do what I chose about the Gasgaeans, of whom nine tribes still stood in the land of Hatti.

  I sent the fastest team I had to Himuili, while Kuwatna-ziti and I contrived a trap for the Gasgaeans. By the time we arrived in the Upper Country where the tribal troops had gathered, they had chased all the Hittites from the land. But when they saw our forces blacken the plain, they became afraid, and all nine tribes of Gasgaeans lay down their weapons before me.

  So we took them captive and Himuili led them into Hattusas, to bring joy to Tuthaliyas’ heart by parading them through the streets at the Festival of Haste.

  Before we went back to Samuha; since we had built fortifications behind the towns emptied by the enemy, we scoured the countryside and brought the Hittite people back, so that they could occupy the land again. I have never seen such joy in folk’s eyes as they walked dazed among houses they had never expected to see again. Because they no longer faced the winter as refugees, they fêted us, and we went home to Samuha heroes after the Festival of Haste was done.

  There I received word that Tuthaliyas was ill, and this was why he had not met us in the country. I tried to send back condolences, but the snows closed down early, and the messenger could not get out to take the message down to Hattusas, but had to stay the whole of that blustering winter with us in the northeast.

  My little concubine flowered under my eyes. I never thought of her as “namra,” not even at the outset. Although a slave in Hatti can do anything but hold office or make magic, she was never that to me. She refused, in her lilting, strangely accented voice, to tell me her name, so I called her “Titai.” We played the winter through, and though Kuwatna-ziti scowled about her at first, she even won the Shepherd with her sweet mouth and eager ways, and it was good with us.

  It was good with us all, in Samuha that winter. We had come home heroes from Hatti, arms laden with booty and namra and wine. Samuha grew new streets; some of the men built houses when the ground thawed; children were born and children conceived. Even Kuwatna-ziti’s fortunes were increased by a daughter, though we only heard of that when the passes cleared and word came up from Arinna in the person of Pikku, who appeared like a bad omen with an armful of clay tablets.

  Kuwatna-ziti and I were invited by Tuthaliyas to come for the New Year to Hattusas. He looked at me and I returned his stare and we both said nothing for a long time. “We have to go,” he offered at last.

  “You go,” I said, tickling Titai’s little straight nose. “You would have killed for this invitation, last season.”

  “This is not last season.”

  “Do you not want to see your new son?”

  “Not that badly.”

  But in the end I went with him, after staying awake all night long, wondering what to do with Titai. By taking her with me, I was satisfying two desires: first, to keep her safe; second, to confront my wife with her. A concubine is different from a harlot or a slave. Too, I wished to chastise Daduhepa for moving into Hattusas and ignoring the fact that Samuha was, by my efforts, a safer place to live than half of Hatti.

  In Hattusas, Titai craned her neck, owl-eyed at its glory, and snuggled closer under my arm. I bought her all manner of baubles and fine garments, which she strewed about the house Kuwatna-ziti rented on a side street in the upper city. It was not a big house, only three angular rooms cut into the hillside, but Titai had never had better than the one tiny chamber I shared with Kuwatna-ziti in Samuha, and she played mistress so intensely that even Kuwatna-ziti brought her presents, to see her little brows wriggle with delight.

  My wife might have been already Great Queen, by the style in which she lived. Tuthaliyas, I found out, was the person who had subsidized her emergence into Hattusas society, and I was greatly displeased by the debt she had incurred for me. But there was nothing I could do about it, except to thank my “father” and swallow the bitter beer of indenture.

  Arnuwandas was beginning to walk; my second son, Piyassilis, cried nonstop the whole time I was in my wife’s house. Daduhepa did not invite me to lie with her, so I did not have to refuse her. This may have been on account of Titai – of whom she was already well-informed, and with whom, at first, she refused to meet. I thought that very uncivilized of her, and said so. “Look, you,” I stormed, “with every gift you take from Tuthaliyas you add a link to the chain binding me to him. Now you refuse to let me bring my lawful concubine into my own house!”

  She smiled demurely, saying only, “Lawful, is she?” I marked it odd that she was not ranting, or screeching, or threatening to have me thrown out her door. “Did you know that we are in the king-lists?” she asked smoothly. “And that our seals have been duly recorded? Wait. Here….” She made as if to rise.

  I pushed her back into her chair. “Do not change the subject. I have brought my concubine up from our house in the city. You will meet her, and be polite to her, or I will –”

  “You will what, Tasmisarri?”

  “Or I will never acknowledge either of your screaming brats. I will divorce you and take her to wife!”

  She slumped down in her seat, hand over her heart. But even then she did not scream and rave, but only sighed, “Bring that slut to visit. Show her your sons, your home, your wife, if you must. In my relief at being spared her presence as a houseguest, I am magnanimous.”

  Though I was primed to confront her, and had planned what I would say, she gave me no opportunity to start the final quarrel for which I yearned. So I went and got Titai and showed her my sons while Daduhepa presided over all with the cold dignity of a goddess. Even Piyassilis’ constant screaming did not shake my wife’s calm, albeit the wet-nurse was foul-tempered from his howling.

  Daduhepa offered us a meal, but little Titai tugged upon my fingers, pleading “no” silently, and I took her out of there, unsure that I had triumphed over my wife, though it seemed so on the face of it.

  During our walk across the upper city, Titai was silent, unsmiling, her eyes darkly shadowed, even when I took her through the palace gardens on the excuse that it was the quickest way back to the house – and she loved sightseeing, and gardens best of all. When we came to the less desirable streets among which we lodged, I stopped at a stall that sold jewelry. Not even this rekindled her eyes. “What is it with you? Surely you are not jealous of her?” Previously, Titai had shown no sign of jealousy, no matter what I did. I had often praised her for this trait to Kuwatna-ziti, who agreed with me that such was a rare quality in a woman.

  “She gave me this for you.” Titai extended her hand. I took the circular stamp seal, set in silver, she held out, turning it in my fingers, watching her. I spied no anger in her face, only despair and uncertainty. Her shoulders were drawn up and in, as if I had just now found her in the sacked town. .

  “Here, wear it.” I slipped it about her neck, pulling her hair from under the chain. “You can buy what you want now, on my credit. Do not ruin me while you’re about it.”

  Fingering the cylinder, which hung low between her up-tipped breasts, she smiled uncertainly. “My lord, yours are beautiful sons.”

  I touched her where she was ticklish. She twisted, giggling, but sobered too quickly.

  “Come and I will show you the Great Bulls, Serris and Hurris. And perhaps my black eagle, if he is still up there, and recollects me.” I saw her interest flicker, then pass away.

  Pulling her by the hand, I hurried her into an alley, backing her more roughly than I had meant against a wall. Two went by and made lewd comments, seeing a big warrior leaning threateningly over a slip of a girl in festival clothes, bu
t I was too busy holding my temper to call them out.

  Under my scrutiny, she fidgeted like a skittish filly. “We are not going anywhere until you say what’s in your mind.”

  Her fingers battled one another, an open revolt of the hands. She struggled with them, eyes downcast “My lord, your wife is a princess. Your children… I –” With a miserable wail she flung herself against me, her little arms locked around my waist, sobbing of how much she loved me. So I forsook squiring her to see the festival bulls, and took her home to show her who meant what to me. It was then that I realized the truth: I was in love with her.

  Once admitted, it is not such a hard thing to accept, and, we were still celebrating the occasion when Kuwatna-ziti came in.

  “The Bulls be with you. By my lord, what’s this? What happened? Are you both unhurt? Tasmi, answer me!”

  “Kuwatna-ziti, I am fine. We are fine. I have decided that I am in love.”

  Kuwatna-ziti groaned and kicked clothing from the hearth and sat on it. “Realized it, you mean. How did it go with Daduhepa?”

  “She was more restrained than I had expected, but you cannot make a pet of a snake. I threatened to disown those screaming brats of hers, and she came into line.”

  “You what? You continually amaze me with your obtuseness. Get dressed. We’re late for Tuthaliyas’ meeting.”

  “I heard nothing about any meeting.”

  “You’re hearing it now. Move. Titai!”

  “Yes, Kuwatna-ziti, my lord?”

  “Lock the door after us. Admit no one, for any reason. When we return, we will ask if the greys are still lame – before we knock. If we should not ask that, even though you think it to be us at the door, do not open it.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Titai, dressing and listening and biting her lip over the complexity of it all.

  “Ready, my lord?”

  “Tell me what this is about, Shepherd.”

  “On the way, Tasmi, on the way.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “Well, son, if Kuwatna-ziti’s taught you nothing else, he’s convinced you to wear clothes.”

  “Yes, my lord,” I said, taking my seat among my relatives, the Great Ones, the palace officials, and the generals and commanders of the armies.

  The man is a fool who says he has never known fear; he is worse than a fool: a liar and a pauper both. Whence but out of fear comes that surge to superhuman deeds that makes of a man a hero? I would not say I felt no fear that night, ensconced among those who had made of my childhood a misery. I had forgotten the machinations of the lords, while in Samuha. There the killing was clean and the enemy well-defined. Here…

  Kantuzilis sat on the Great King’s right hand, running pale fingers through his white hair, with all my boyhood tormentors ranged about him. Himuili, on my left, leaned close to me and asked without moving his lips if Kuwatna-ziti had bespoken me. I nodded, sitting back, crossing my arms, to see what might be seen.

  What I saw was that Tuthaliyas was both very sick and very drunk. Slumping in disarray over the head of the table, his crown askew, he looked as if he had not bathed in weeks. He was yellow as the sky over a sacked town, and tremblous of voice: “As you all by now should know, we are gathered here to discuss the greatest threat that has come upon the land in generations.” He peered around the table. “I had wanted to talk of Kammala, of Masa, and of Lanni, king of Hayasa, when next I called you together. But things have shifted themselves about. You!”

  He was pointing at us – either Kuwatna-ziti, Himuili, or myself. We looked between us, and I said, “My lord?”

  “Do you heroes of the Upper Country have a good grasp of the situation?”

  I looked to my right and left. Himuili made an upward motion with his huge green-flecked eyes, shaking his head imperceptibly. Kuwatna-ziti chewed his nails. “I think so, Tabarna,” I said at last.

  “Good, my son. Then you explain it to the rest of us.” Having fallen into the trap, I cursed myself.

  “What was that?” gurgled the Great King, his mouth full of beer – such was the gravity of the situation that there was no wine served that night in the palace.

  “Well-known is the treachery of the Hurrians,” I began. “And well-known also that princes slay princes when they can. What I have heard is that Tushratta of Mitanni has slain the rightful heir to the throne and acceded in his place, that-”

  “You would think that. That is not right!” snarled the Great King. “The old king was to be succeeded by a son whom he had chosen, Artashuwara. This prince was murdered by a treacherous official, one Utkhi. Tushratta took revenge on the official and his helpers. Then he usurped the throne.” Spittle shone in the stubble on his chin. “Well, go on, Tasmi, what else do you know?”

  “That Tushratta’s brother, Artatama, does not recognize Tushratta’s overlordship and has seceded from the Mitannian empire, taking the title ‘King of Hurri,’ splitting the Hurri lands in twain.”

  “Very good, Tasmi. What else?”

  “That the people are calling their contentions a lawsuit before the gods, whose settlement will be determined in the usual fashion.” When a man breaks the Oath Gods’ laws by slaying one to whom he is sworn, then the family of the guilty party falls upon one another: the Oath Gods cause them to slay their own kin until none of that blood which did evil is left in the land.

  “And what else?”

  “I can think of nothing else, my lord.”

  “Well, there is else. There is the fact that both brothers claim to be true kings. Both have written to me to uphold them, the one against the other. Both seek to hold me to agreements we had with the land of Hurri when it and the political dynasty of Mitanni were one.” Tuthaliyas rubbed his chin.

  “My lord,” said Himuili softly, “may I ask a question?”

  “Ask.”

  “Whom does Egypt support in this? I would not like to tangle with the ‘Panthers Southern,’ no matter how weak it is rumored they have become.”

  “Egypt will support Tushratta,” growled Kantuzilis, as if he had Pharaoh’s ear, without first asking if he might speak.

  “It is not a question of whom Egypt supports, but of whom we will support,” glowered my ‘father.’ “Yes, Kuwatna-ziti?”

  “Armed neutrality to both parties might serve, coupled with our insistence that since Mitanni is no longer able to exercise dominion over the Hurri lands, then she cannot fulfill her previous obligations as set down in the alliance, and we must write a new treaty with them. As for Artatama, king of Hurri, offer him the same. If Hurrian fights Hurrian over names and empty speeches, it is to our benefit. Treat with both, we will surely have treated with the lawful. Let them exterminate each other, if they can. Long has Mitannian thought ruled in Hurri; those years have been costly to us. If we find it expedient to offer aid, I would offer it to Hurri’s new king.” He looked around at us. “Who among you has not had a wrong done him by Hurrians under Mitannian direction? How many with Hurrian blood in their veins cannot forget how it got there? Even our language is filled with reminders of Hurrian overlordship. In my grandfather’s days we paid tribute to Mitanni, yearly, when she waggled Egypt’s swords under our noses. Let us put our sandals to their throats, now.” Kuwatna-ziti was on his feet, impassioned. Many others had risen.

  I yet sat. So did the Great King. But the debating of feasible schemes went on until the middle night watch was heard to cry: “And the fire will be guarded!” when we got on to the problem of Lanni the King of Hayasa. That done, the Great King dismissed all into the dawn but me. “Wait for me,” I whispered to Himuili and Kuwatna-ziti, “by the gatepost where the demons guard.”

  The Great King was succinct: “Hero, I am not sending you back to Samuha.”

  “My lord, have I not well served you? I have –”

  “Done so well that I no longer need you there. Your reputation grows, Tasmisarri. I want you in Hattusas, where I can use you.”

  “But –”

  “What is the problem? You
r wife is happy here. You have a lovely estate.”

  “Yes, my lord, and I thank you once again for all you have done. It is just that I am settled where I am – content enough. There is much yet to be accomplished in the northeast. The Hayasaean enemy…”

  “My boy, we will smite the Hayasaean enemy together, this next season. Now go on with you, and tell Kuwatna-ziti he does not have to share the Upper Country any longer.”

  By the gatepost where the demons guard lounged Himuili and the Shepherd, talking politics and watching the sun rise. They did not at first mark me.

  “It is not so confusing as you may think,” said Kuwatna-ziti, exasperated, trying to answer some question I had not heard Himuili ask. “The river Mala divides the land of Hurri. Just so, the kingdom has split, and becomes two. What you must realize is that ‘Mitanni’ is only a state of mind: it has no language other than Hurrian; its people are Hurrians.” I saw Himuili rub his face, muttering. “Just fight them, if you’re told to. You need not understand it.” Kuwatna-ziti turned, sensing my gaze. “Tasmi! What’s wrong?”

  I pushed away from the gatepost wall. “I’m thirsty. I will buy you each a draught.” I wondered if my fear showed, if the Shepherd would smell its sourness issuing forth from my mouth. But Himuili frowned first, saying that he knew a place, his green-flecked eyes darting about in the ruddy light, as he reviewed suspicious shadows.

  We heard the night-watch change to day as we entered a just-opening establishment and gave the crusty-eyed proprietor something to do.

  Kuwatna-ziti was worrying his braid, always a sign of agitation. “Now, my lord prince, what could possibly keep you quiet this long?”

  Lacing my hands behind my head, I leaned back against the plastered wall. Above me, light poured in an open window; I knew they could not see me well. “Himuili, what is the slowest way you know to kill someone?”

  “The slowest? Or the most painful? Whom are you going to kill, and how slowly?”