Four Jugs of Wine – 1200 BC
Guard-room, Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Circa 1200 BC
"Astarte! Astarte I say! Now lets see you beat that!"
A groan went around the room. The odds against beating Astarte were slender indeed and the pot was a big one. Mannasseh picked up the dice and rolled. He didn't need to look at them, the sigh that went around was enough. Hoping against hope, he looked anyway. Nothing. Rubbish. His first roll had been brilliant, so good that most of squad had bet on him winning. Then Issachar had rolled Astarte and turned the game upside down. And cleaned out most of the squad in the process.
Issachar finished scooping up his winnings and yelled for one of the slaves who did the routine fetching and carrying for the soldiers. "Hey, you. Go to Schechem the wine merchant and get four jugs of his best. Make sure its his best mind you or I'll have his hide as well as yours. Four jugs so we can all celebrate the Gods smiling on a good game of dice." Four jugs of the best would be almost half his winnings but Issachar didn't mind. His unexpected victory had put him in an expansive mood. There were cheers across the room and some approving yells.
Up on one of the bunks, Sergeant Arnon smiled to himself. Cleaning out a squad like that could cause resentment but immediately spending his winnings on a good party would prevent trouble brewing. Issachar was a smart cookie, possibly good Corporal material. Ranks, now that was something King Sammael had organized when he'd taken the throne from his father. Which was a polite way of putting it of course. The King's army was organized, it fought as a whole, not as a disorganized mob. He was an odd one though, Sammael. Lots of strange ideas. He'd made a rule, woman got pregnant again within a year of giving birth, her husband was executed. He must have known what he was doing though, the law might be strange but here in Shyt'tin both the women and the children were a lot healthier and women from surrounding kingdoms were escaping to live here.
There was a hammering on the guardroom door. Arnon jumped down and opened it, one of the soldiers picking up a sword as a precaution. Nobody who lived in this town would be stupid enough to attack one of Sammael's soldiers, but outsiders? It didn't matter, there was a very young child outside, a rock in his hand where he'd tried to make the hammering loud enough to be heard. For a brief second he felt a flash of anger at the child but it faded instantly. The kid's face was white, drawn with shock and fear.
"What's the matter little man?" Arnon sat on his heels, bringing his face down nearer to being level with the child. The one thing an obviously terrified child didn't need was an adult towering over him.
"Please sir, father sent me to get the guard. Something horrible has happened it made father sick. He won't let mother or us in says its something nobody but soldiers should ever see. It's the lady who lives out by the wall. The one who came not long ago with her children. Please come sir."
The child was desperate with the earnestness of one who had been given a vital job and was terrified of getting it wrong. Arnon turned around. "Guard team come with me. The rest of you, don't drink all the wine. Right, little man. Will you show us where this has happened?"
The house wasn't that far away, in truth the city wasn't large enough for anywhere to be "far away". Arnon was leading the six-man corporal's guard himself. They'd got their armored breastplates on, that was another one of King Sammael 's rules. On official business, soldiers wore their boiled leather breastplates. The soldiers had grumbled at the weight at first but not after the first battle. Their armor had been decisive, allowing Sammael's infantry to slash through the disorganized, unarmored mob in front of them. Battle after battle had followed and Sammael's heavy armored infantry had won them all. At little cost and the legend was spreading that his soldiers couldn't be killed. That legend was worth a thousand men all on its own and Sammael didn't want it ruined by one of his men being shot in the dark.
The boy's father was worse than sick. He had been vomiting until his stomach was empty and his throat dry. Arnon recognized him, a cloth merchant. Respectable man. He was leaning weakly against a wall, so sick even to straighten himself when the Guard arrived. Under other circumstances, Arnon may have back-handed him for that, the Guard represented the King and standing erect showed respect for the King's representatives. This was different.
How different was obvious as soon as he and his men stepped inside the house. It stunk, the once-smelled, never-forgotten coppery stink of blood, the vile odor of filth and the clinging smell of burned flesh. A woman was stretched out on the floor, in a pool of blood that had flies clustered all over it. He robe was drenched in blood, gluing it to the floor. One of the soldiers lifted the hem, then cried out. The woman's feet were burned black, charred, the flesh split open to reveal angry red canyons leading to white bone. Even the slight movement of her gown caused a whimpering groan.
"Gods, she's alive. You two find something to carry her, get her to the temple. If anybody can do anything for her, the Queen can." The Queen was also the High Priestess and knew of the healing arts. And of darker arts too, it was rumored. Several of Sammael's enemies had died very mysteriously after suddenly contracting an undefinable illness.
"Sergeant, you'd better see this. Although you probably won't want to." Arnon took a look and wished he hadn't. Three children, the youngest just a baby who had been picked up by his feet and his head smashed against a wall. The other two were older, a boy and a girl. They had both been cut open and the pool of blood around the girl's loins made it all too obvious what had happened her before the people responsible for the massacre had killed her. One of the soldiers was pacing rapidly in the room, from side to side, his anger making him kick out at things and twist the sword in his belt. Another was looking at the girl, his eyes wet. Arnon knew him, he had a wife and children of his own and it was obvious what was passing through his mind.
Arnon put his hand on the man's shoulder. "There's nothing we can do for them now, except see they get decent treatment in death they were denied in life. And try to find who did this." The expression on Arnon's face was not pleasant to look at.
Temple of Astarte. Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael
The High Priestess had put her mind to one side and was running by instinct. If she started to think too much about what she was doing, her anger would stop her doing it properly. And doing it properly was the only chance this victim had of survival. She'd stripped the clotted, soaked gown off the body and seen the damage underneath. Bruising lots of it, a few cuts none deep. The woman had been beaten badly but that was all. The High Priestess opened the woman's mouth then felt around inside. Teeth undamaged, none stuck in her throat to obstruct breathing. She took one of her potions and dipped her finger in it before transferring the oily liquid to the victim's throat. It would ease the pain. The Priestess knew a way to ease the pain completely, finally, and had brought what was needed, but it wasn't time, not yet. There was still hope.
One of the slaves brought a jug of hot water and the High Priestess started washing the blood off the victim's face. As she did so, the aware part of her mind jumped, underneath the bruising, she recognized the victim. A distant cousin of hers. She didn't let it register, kept cleaning the body, feeling for broken bones and internal injuries as she did so. At one point she frowned and looked more closely, then turned the body so she could look at the woman's back and hips. She grimaced, she'd been right, they'd raped her as well, over and over again. Again the conscious part of her mind started, both her assistants were kneeling on the floor.
"What happened Naamah? Do we know who she is?" King Sammael was standing by the door of the temple room. For a brief second, affection flared in the High Priestess then she squashed it down. Time for that later. She was supposed to kneel as well, but she would have time for that later also. One of the things that made Sammael loved in his kingdom was that he knew the difference between the reality and the appearance of respect shown by his people. Sometimes necessity made real respect take precedence over the forms. To Sammael, real respect was people doing what they had to for the benefit of his Kingdom.
"She's my cousin, Lillith. She took refuge here a few weeks ago with her children. Apparently she left her husband, Adam of Edom?, and came here for shelter. She was found like this earlier tonight by the Guard. Her children are dead. Your Guard is in an ugly mood about this Sammael, they left four jugs of Schechem's best wine untouched when they started searching for whoever did this."
"Can she tell us? Will she be able to?"
Naamah shook her head slowly. "Look at this. They burned her feet. You know burns."
Sammael's expression saddened. Burns were a death sentence. No matter what was done, no matter what sacrifices were made or prayers chanted, burns became mortified. White poison would run from them, then a fever would set in and the victim would die. Even shallow burns were deadly dangerous and these were worse than any he'd ever seen. "She'll die."
"Probably. But I want to try something. Nothing I do can hurt her now so I'm going to wash those burns with a mixture of sour wine and warm water. And I'm going to cut away the blackened charring. Perhaps it will give the rest room to grow again. I have an ointment I can put on as well, I made it for that recruits who dropped his sword through his foot. . And, could I have a lamb from the flock please? A sacrifice now may help as well. If all that doesn't work, I can still help her on her way. If it does, we can find out who did this."
Royal Palace, Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Gilead
Lillith whimpered and writhed as Naamah's fingers massaged her feet. Naamah stopped and went over to a wine jug in the corner, pouring some into a goblet and adding a touch of liquid. "Here drink this. It'll help but you've got to stop taking it. Or one day, you won't be able to stop. That would be a pity because your feet are healing well. What I don't understand is why they are healing this way. It's as if the sound areas, the bits that escaped the fire are growing back to fill the areas that were burned. The new skin is scarred of course and the toes you lost are gone but the rest is recovering. Thing is I don't even know if its normal, nobody I know of has ever recovered from burns like this before." Naamah took the empty goblet and made a mental calculation on how much pain killer Lillith had taken today. Half the amount she'd had yesterday, that was good, she would halve the amount again tomorrow. And end giving any at all soon. Then Lillith started to move.
"That will not be necessary." A deep voice warn and friendly came from behind Naamah. Sammael's voice. She turned around, knelt and quickly touched her forehead to the floor. Then she got up and nestled beside her husband, his arm affectionately around her waist. "How are you recovering?"
Lillith settled back on the couch, the drugged wine making her feel at ease. Not that she would have felt otherwise, when she had recovered consciousness, her first reaction had been a deep terror that had only faded when she had seen Naamah's green eyes looking down on her. She'd never thought she would be pleased to see those eyes; Naamah had married late because of them, men had thought she was beautiful and sought her until she had looked at them. Then they'd seen her eyes and gone elsewhere for a bride. Until Sammael's first wife had died and he'd chosen Naamah. She'd taken up the position of his Queen and the High Priestess of the local temple. The latter had also made her responsible for judging right and wrong, guilt and innocence. Then her eyes had been an asset for when somebody looked at those flat, lifeless eyes staring back at them, they didn't argue with the verdict. Those merciless eyes had comforted Lillith throughout her recovery.
"Thank you, your Majesty. Thanks to Her Highness, I am recovering slowly. I can even stand now and walk a little."
"Don't show us. Rest. Now I want you to tell me who did this to you. The Guard has investigated and they are certain the men who attacked you were not from this city. That makes the attack on you a challenge to me personally and people who challenge me regret it."
"It all started when Adam got back from a war he'd been fighting. He'd been away for a long time so my children were starting to grow up. When he got back, he made me pregnant again. Anyway, he also had a new wife, Eve." She caught the glance between Sammael and Naamah. "No, that wasn't the problem, I was heavy with child and a new wife, it was an advantage. A good thing for me. Only she started telling him things, teaching him things, doing things that I wouldnt do. She even had pictures of such sins and they'd copy them. Then, after the baby was born, I found him showing those pictures to my daughter so we ran away and came here for shelter. Adam sent three of his lieutenants after me, to bring me back. Senoy, Sansenoy and Smengalof their names were. They came here and tried to persuade me to go back. You can see how they tried. Then, the rest of it you know. Please, the men who found me, they have been rewarded?"
"Let me see if I understand this properly. You were granted sanctuary in my kingdom yet your husband sent three of his men anyway and did this to you in my city?." With the last three words Sammael's voice lost its gentleness and boomed with anger. "This is indeed an insult to me and to my honor. I gave you sanctuary. I promised you safety and you did not get it. He has made a liar out of me. He has made me a Prince of Lies." The angry boom had turned into something even more frightening, a voice shaking with rage. Sammael paused and got himself under control. "The men who found you? They gave up four jugs of best wine to help you. I have rewarded them with four times four jugs from my own private stock. And promoted them to my personal guard. Now comes the time I must deal with those who offend against me."
"Husband?" Naamah spoke diffidently. "Dealing with Adam is work of war, man's work. He is one of the Hibaru princes and they need a regular lesson in why they should not offend us. But the three men who did this to Lillith, that is vengeance. My department. And Lillith is family. I will deal with Senoy, Sansenoy and Smengalof."
Sammael nodded and left. It was part of their partnership, Naamah did the things that honor forbade Sammael from doing himself. Naamah continued to inspect Lillith's feet. They really were healing remarkably well. Eventually Lillith spoke to her. "Naamah. About Senoy, Sansenoy and Smengalof, they killed my children, I want their children killed, I want them to see their children die as I watched mine die. Can we kill their children first?"
House of Senoy, Lieutenant of Adam, Prince of Edom
It had been a good drinking session, and Senoy was staggering as he made his way back to his home. He wasn't so befuddled that he failed to note the quietness as he entered. The house seemed empty, no servants, no family to greet him. Then he saw why. Lying on the floor of his main room were both his wives and all of his children, each had been neatly beheaded, their heads placed on a table. The scene had time to register before he felt a savage blow to the back of his legs. He slumped down and felt his hair being grabbed. That was when he knew his head was going to be on the table as well.
House of Sansenoy, Lieutenant of Adam, Prince of Edom
The arrow hit him in the shoulder, driving through his body, pinning him to the wall. A split second later another arrow slammed through the other shoulder. As he hung helpless against the wall, he saw the hidden bowmen shooting down the children who had been playing in the garden of his house. Before Sansenoy died, the single scream from inside told him his wife had gone before him.
House of Smengalof, Lieutenant of Adam, Prince of Edom
The plague had struck fast and hard. When Smengalof had woken that morning, everybody had been healthy but by the time he had got back at noon, his wives and children were already very ill. Their hearts were racing, they were in convulsions, bathed in sweat. The youngest children died first, the rest had followed. He'd thought his wives would survive, adults had strength children didn't but the disease had become worse and they, too had died. He'd been sitting in the darkness, trying to adjust to the sudden loss when he'd felt a knife at his throat. "Poison is King" a voice had whispered, then the knife had sliced.
Hills North of Edom.
The cavalry had been tracking the Edom army days now. Horsemen weren't worth much on the battlefield, one good sword-swing from horseback and the rider fell off. Sammael used his to follow the enemy, to watch them, to observe their every move. So when the armies fought, they would do so on his terms. Always, on his terms. Those he fought believed he had a strange mystical power of seeing the future and predicting his enemies moves. They'd never associated the solitary figures on the hill tops looking down on them with that mysterious ability.
Guard-Sergeant Arnon knew the truth of course, just as he knew what faced them. The Edom Army had about four hundred spears and fifty slingers. They'd picked up another two hundred spears and another fifty slingers on the way. Total, 700 men. This was going to be easy. Sammael had taken position along a hill crest with half of his infantry arrayed on the forward face. The other half, including his personal guard, were on the reverse slope. When the Hibaru attacked, that concealed force would pivot around and slam into their left flank. His sergeants, Mannasseh and Issachar, were getting their troops ready for the swing. He settled his chin strap, feeling the nodding plume of red hair on top of his leather helmet and got ready. Sammael demanded three things and three things only from the people he ruled. In peace deal honestly. In war fight bravely. In both obey him. Arnon did not intend to let him down.
He saw the infantry on the hilltop drop down to one knee, their shields held up. That would be because the Hibaru slingers were pouring their volleys into the ranks of Sammael's infantry. Slingers were devastating against unarmored infantry and even against armor their stones could cause bad wounds, So the men had dropped behind their shields to avoid the worst of the torrent. Then, the Hibaru would charge forward. Arnon doubted that they'd even notice they were charging uphill. Not until Sammael's heavy infantry countercharged anyway. Yes, he thought, there they go. Light unarmored infantry charging uphill, heavy armored infantry going downhill. No doubt the Hibaru priests would be praying for all they were worth. Not much good it would do them. That was something else Sammael did differently. He didn't care what religion people were or what god or god they worshipped. He told people that all gods respected bravery and fighting bravely did more good than praying.
Suddenly fire arrows arched skywards. Time to move. His orders were to advance at the slow time. The regiment next to him would move at regular time while the one at the end would double-time. That would spin the line on its hinge point. Sure enough, as he crossed the ridgeline, he could see the Hibaru infantry tangled up with Sammael's heavies. The line was curving smoothly already and soon, so soon teh Hibaru were trapped. His sword leapt out and took the nearest Hibaru in the ribs. The man was going down before he realized what had happened. Some of the Hibaru saw the mass of armored infantry hitting them in the flank and tried to change but the advancing Shyt'tin infantry had momentum on their side and were forcing the Hibaru left back. The Hibiru were being compressed, squeezed between the two lines of armor. Arnon felt almost sorry for them, they were totally outclassed and didn't even know why. He felt a blow in his chest, something had hit him but his armor had stopped it. These "infantry" had been farmers a few days before and most of them were still armed with farm implements. Untrained farmers, dressed in cloth robes with tools fighting professional soldiers in leather armor and carrying spear and sword. It was pathetic.
The fight lasted a few minutes only. The Edomite infantry broke and ran. That was something they did well, they could actually run faster than their enemies in leather armor. But, as an army, they were gone They fled for the city of Edom, spreading word of the disaster that had befallen the army that day, of how the Devil's Guard , invincible giants with flaming heads had mysteriously appeared behind the Edomites and crushed them.
Before the Walls of Edom.
Throughout the night, the people in the city knew the Shyt'tin army was arriving. Its camp fires grew outside the walls, a few more every hour until they looked like the stars in the sky. They knew something else, this was Sammael's army. When a city was besieged, all that it could expect when it fell was slaughter and pillage. But this was Sammael's army and when a city opened its gates to Sammael, there would be no slaughter, no pillage. Even the women would be respected. Provided the city opened its gates without a fight. And was Adam really worth fighting for? And dying for?
Didn't people say that living under Sammael was rich and easy. That taxes were low and nobody cared what gods one worshipped?
Why were they fighting Sammael anyway? Why had their young men died that day, in a battle against Sammael's troops, who everybody knew couldn't be killed and never lost a battle?
At dawn, as Sammael's infantry started to move forward, the city gates opened
Royal Palace, Edom.
Sammael's troops had spread through the city. A few Edomites had tried to resist but they'd been killed, sometimes by the townspeople themselves. The Shyt'tin troops were under tight control, half of Sammael's success in war was based on the demonstrated fact that those who surrendered to him did much better than those who fought. They held the streets and kept order. Adam and Eve had tried to escape, hiding in an orchard, but had been found and dragged out. Now, they'd been stripped and were flung in the dust before Sammael and his court. From her seclusion in his personal camp, Naamah looked dispassionately on. Opposite her in the carriage, Lillith's face was contorted with hate. Naamah had doped her up in case she had to walk but she guessed Lillith's rage was such that she wouldn't feel the pain of walking on her still-injured feet.
"Do you know why this war happened?" Sammael's voice was gentle yet carried across the courtyard of the royal palace. Adam let lose with a string of wails, begging, pleading for mercy,. Blaming everybody but himself. The whining served only to enrage Sammael. "Have you no pride? Stop begging like a peasant. I have destroyed your pathetic little kingdom because you made a liar out of me. I promised somebody safety and you pursued her and injured her anyway. I promised her sanctuary and you killed her children. You have made me a Prince of Lies and I can only redeem that by destroying you and your she-devil. You think I am going to kill you?
"I will do worse than that. You and your whore will be thrown out of this city. As you are now, naked without clothes or money or food. You can spend what time is left to you wandering in the hills. There will be guards on the gates here. If you attempt to return here you will be killed. Now get out of my sight. I do not wish to hear of you again."
In the carriage Naamah leaned back. "And so it ends cousin. My husband has another city to rule. What will you do now? Stay here? Or come and live with us?"
Lillith looked across at her cousin. "I don't wish to come back here. Too many bad memories. I'd like to stay with you. Anyway, I owe some of your soldiers four jugs of wine."