Shinar
Terah stopped to talk with the dungeon warden in his small chamber on their way out and told Ikuppi to get the midwife into the chariot outside the rear of the palace. He was more concerned about Ikuppi than about Yadidatum when he finally joined them. The man’s eyes were full and his lips forced together. “Have someone deliver a chariot to my home,” Terah told him. “It need have only one horse, and I will return it when I come back to court in a few weeks.”
Without a look or a word, Ikuppi headed to the paddock, spoke to the liveryman, and returned.
“Well?” Terah said.
Ikuppi faced him, silent.
“Did you arrange it?”
Ikuppi nodded and reboarded the chariot. The midwife sat where she had on the way, against the back wall.
“I must sit as well,” Terah said, exhausted. Balancing on one leg and supporting himself with one arm would be too much for the trip back. He sat next to Yadidatum and leaned to keep weight off his bitten backside. He lay the crutch across his thighs and it reached the midwife. She glared at him.
“Today fortune has visited you,” he said.
“How can you say that? That baby is dead already, isn’t he?”
“He may be.”
“That is an evil for which you will have to answer to the gods.”
“My conscience is clear,” Terah said. “This was their plan.”
The midwife buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “And you call this fortune?”
“For you, yes! I have the authority to reduce your son’s sentence. He will be freed one year from today, whole.”
She peered at him. “You swear?”
“I do not swear to you, ma’am. You swear to me. For if there is one breakdown in today’s design, losing a hand will be the least of your son’s problems. I will have him executed.”
She closed her eyes as the chariot began to roll. “I have no choice but to comply,” she said. “But I will never forgive you.”
“Forgive me? I spared your son!”
“What of Mutuum’s son?”
“What you tell him and his wife will become the truth of that tragedy. You would do well to embrace it.”
“I cannot do it, sir! Don’t make me!”
“Don’t be foolish! Ikuppi will vouch for the story, as will my injuries.”
Outside the city, Ikuppi yanked the horses to a stop along a desolate stretch and turned to face Terah. “Have you forgotten that Mutuum has already seen you and knows how you were injured?”
“He has not seen my broken nose.”
“And you think that will convince him?”
“You and the midwife must convince him. Your job and her son’s life hang in the balance—not to mention her own.”
“Cover yourself, Terah,” Ikuppi said. “A chariot is coming.”
It flew past, a king’s guard driving two horses. “I told you I needed only one horse,” Terah said.
“He will ride one of the horses back to the palace. Did you expect him to walk?”
“You take a sarcastic tone with me?”
“I will take whatever tone I wish. You have forced me beyond my own conscience. You can do no worse to me.”
“I could have you imprisoned! Put to death!”
“I would be no worse off. I am already imprisoned by guilt.”
“Let’s just get on with this,” Terah said. “I have told you both, after today I will demand no more than your silence. Breach that and you and your families will pay.”
When finally Ikuppi pulled onto the road leading to the servants’ quarters, Terah said, “Remember, real tears.”
“Ours will be real,” Ikuppi said. “What about your own?”
“I will weep tears of relief,” Terah said.
“You had better pray the gods have mercy on you,” the midwife said.
As the settlement came into view, Terah said, “Start lamenting now!”
Yadidatum began wailing, Ikuppi bawled, and Terah shouted, “Oh, woe is me! Woe is me!”
Mutuum and his wife, pale and frail, stood at the entrance to the dwellings. “What has happened?” he shouted. “Where’s the baby?”
“What has taken so long?” his wife pleaded. “Where’s my child?”
“Oh, woe!” Terah cried. “Woe!”
“The baby has been lost,” the midwife said.
“What? What do you mean, lost?”
“Devoured, Mutuum!” Ikuppi said, tears streaming. “The same pack of dogs that attacked the master!”
Mutuum’s wife collapsed, and he fell to his knees. “Where? How?”
“Near the house!” Terah said. “We were waiting for Belessunu to awaken when they ambushed us and made the horses rear.”
“The child was thrown from my arms,” Yadidatum said. “I am so sorry! I blame myself!”
“It’s not your fault!” Ikuppi said. “The master leapt out to fight the dogs and was injured even more. There was nothing we could do. One of the horses broke free and kicked at the dogs, but oh, what they had already done to the baby!”
By now a crowd had formed and the tale had spread. It seemed the entire servant village keened as one. Terah struggled to his feet, and Ikuppi helped him out of the chariot. He raised his hand and spoke softly, oozing regret and resolve. “I pray the gods will give you peace, and I pledge generosity from my own storehouse. I will ask Ikuppi to make available to Mutuum and his wife any supplies or foodstuffs they require for the next year. Just know that we all grieve with you and mourn your loss.”
Their neighbors encircled the grieving parents and embraced them. Yadidatum trudged from the chariot to her own home. “There is nothing more I can do here, Ikuppi,” Terah said. “Take me home.”
On the way he said, “After you leave me, take a week’s worth of supplies and food to Mutuum and his wife. Then load your chariot and the one delivered to me with as much as you can fit.”
“To take to them as well?”
“No, I will show you where to take it. And then nothing more will be required of you.”
“I have nothing more to give anyway, Terah.”
A cloud of dust ahead became the king’s guard riding the extra horse bareback toward the palace. He and Ikuppi merely nodded to each other as he galloped past.
As the chariot rolled slowly toward Terah’s place, Ikuppi turned and said, “I wish I had never told you of the king’s scheme.”
“You would have let him murder my son?”
“Terah! You have not only let him murder a son, you offered him up to the king as a token of worship.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“And I did what you forced me to,” Ikuppi said, “to my eternal torment. You have stolen my soul.”