Two Beggars -1200BC
Temple of Astarte. Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Circa 1200 BC
It was the Festival of Lamps, the day and the night when people celebrated the gift of love from Astarte and the joys of family that it brought. That was the theory of it anyway, Naamah thought rather moodily. There was an insect, a small beetle on the altar and she was creating a maze for it with her hands, slowly herding it towards the flame in the center of the altar table. The insect had realized was happening now and was panicking as it felt the heat grow, running, trying to get away from the hands that remorselessly crowded it towards the fire. Then, Naamah smiled as it fell into the flame with a hiss. Game over.
She got up, unsteady on her feet from the wine shed drunk already and looked around the temple. It was quiet at last, all the side chambers were in use. Earlier in the evening, she had seen Schechem, the wine merchant, praying in front of the altar after making a very generous sacrifice. Naamah had been startled to see he was crying as he chanted his invocations to Astarte so she had stood before him and said that Astarte had sent her to help him. Schechem had explained that his wife, Enore, had vanished earlier that day and not returned. The night being what it was, he was desperately worried for her safety. He had good cause for worry, a woman on her own could easily be carried off, so she had knelt with him and prayed for Astarte to watch over Enore.
Later, after Schechem had left, it had been the time when men who wanted to honor the Goddess Astarte would come bearing a generous sacrifice and then draw a chip from a cup. If it was blank, then the Goddess hadn't thought their sacrifice was enough to fully redeem their sins against her over the last year, and they would leave. If they were lucky and drew a marked chip, it meant that the Goddess smiled on them for adequately compensating their sins. The chip would have the name of an available priestess on it and the two would go to a side chamber where their joining would be in honor of Astarte. Staggering slightly, Naamah went to the doors of the temple and swung them shut, slipping the bar into place. Closed for the rest of the night.
Leaning against the closed doors, Naamah fixed her eyes on the hanging tapestry that concealed the passage that connected the temple to Sammael's Royal Palace of Dis. She took a deep breath and set off across the floor of the temple, her eyes fixed on the objective. Only tripping over once on the way and managing not to get too tangled in the tapestry when she got there, that was, Naamah thought, an achievement that deserved another cup of wine. Another noteworthy achievement was getting down the passage while only bouncing off the walls twice. Naamah decided she ought to speak with Sammael about getting the passage widened. At the end, through a heavy door, was one of the common areas of the palace. A group of Sammael's children were inside, playing shadow games with the lamps. When they saw her, they dropped down to kneel. She bobbed her head in acknowledgment, being careful not to fall over again, and passed through on her way to Sammaels private apartments. She heard giggling behind her, not surprisingly the children had noted her condition. That didn't take much effort on their part, everybody in the city was drunk tonight.
Except one. Sammael was working at a table, surrounded by scrolls. As she entered the room, Naamah quickly glanced around. Nobody else present so instead of making a formal obeisance, she darted over and sat in his lap. "Time to stop working Husband."
Sammael looked at her and flicked the tip of her nose with a finger. "My Queen has already been celebrating for both of us I think. Still, the rest of this can wait until tomorrow."
Sammael reached out for the jug of wine on the table. Naamah glanced quickly, it was still full to the brim. She took his hand, stopping him from pouring a cup, then got one for herself. She swallowed it, her eyebrows arching in pleasure. Sammael had good wine in his cellars. "Wait until the candle burns down that much. Then you can drink. Provided I am not on the floor holding my stomach by then."
Sammael obeyed, watching the candle as it burned down the width of Naamahs little finger. She gave a little nod and he poured himself a cup and drank it down. The guard on duty get paid double tonight and get a special wine issue tomorrow. Just in case. "Now, as for you my Queen." Sammael stood up suddenly, catching Naamahs hands in one of his. In a quick move, he pinned her against a column, one hand holding her hands above her head, the other pushing a cup of wine against her lips. As he pretended to force wine down her throat and she pretended to resist, Naamah couldnt help thinking that tomorrow's hangover was going to be awful.
Royal Palace of Dis, Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Gilead
"A nice fatty, roasted lamb's tail for breakfast?" Lilliths voice had all the smugness of somebody who wasnt suffering from a hangover when all around her were. Naamahs face went as green as her eyes and she only just managed to avoid running for the privy. Instead, she picked up a jug of fruit juice and drank it down. It calmed her stomach somewhat and cooled the parched desert in her mouth. It didn't do much for the slow-motion explosion that was threatening to make her head burst. Lillith looked at her without any sympathy. "You must have had a truly spectacular Festival."
Naamah shook her head very carefully, somewhat relieved to note that it didn't fall off. "Actually no, I was very restrained."
Lillith's eyebrows raised in total disbelief. Naamah gave an impish grin and half turned, putting her hands behind her back, wrists crossed. Lilliths expression changed to an Ohhh RIGHT and both women started giggling. Instinctively, Naamah glanced down, checking Lilliths feet as shed done every morning for more than two years now. Naamahs sandals had thin, elegant straps, suitable wear for the Palace even though they wouldnt last more than a few minutes outside. Lilliths had broad flat leather and her feet were wrapped in cloth. Naamah had noted that scars from wounds were much less severe if they were protected from the sun while healing and Lilliths feet needed all the help they could get.
"Don't bother. Nobody else is around." Sammaels voice caught both women as they rose to make an obeisance to him. Beautiful morning. "Pity most of the city will be missing it." He was helping himself to fruit and meat from the table in the corner of the balcony. "Lillith, you can read and write cant you?"
"Our script and Egyptian." Lillith said, a touch of pride in her voice.
"Good. I want you to take over supervising the city records. The scribes need to have somebody of Royal rank watching them. I found one page of the city diary that described the day as being harmless. Just that. I wish people would learn that files and records that arent complete are worthless. Ive been looking for a job for you and this one fits perfectly."
Sammael started to eat his meal. After a few minutes of companionable silence, there was quiet musical sound from outside. Naamah rose and opened the door. Guard Sergeant Arnon entered, carrying a scroll, the Night Guards report. Sammael waved it over to Lillith. "Sergeant, anything unusual last night. Unusual for the Festival of Lamps that is."
"Just one thing Your Majesty. The body of an old beggar was found in a ditch down by the city wall. Looks like he got drunk, fell in and bashed his head. . Other than that, nothing. Just the usual, few fights, couple of the market women had trouble with customers didn't want to pay. The boys dealt with them."
"The body of that old beggar Sergeant. Where is it?" As High Priestess, Naamah was responsible for making sure the dead were properly prepared for their journey onwards. Where there was no family to care for the body, she and her priestesses did the necessary ceremonies and said the proper rites.
"In the Temple of Astarte, Your Royal Highness, as you wished."
"Good. I'd better take a look at it. Oh by the way, Sergeant. Schechem the wine merchants wife, Enore, is missing. She vanished yesterday about noon apparently. Tell the Guard to keep an eye open for her."
"Schechem, Your Royal Highness. That's too bad, shes a nice lady. Husband treats her well and I thought she was devoted to him. As if the poor guy hasn't enough problems. You heard he made a wine shipment that was stolen by bandits? The Guild of Hosts had paid him for it in advance, now he owes them forty gold pieces. He's well off but thats got to hurt."
Temple of Astarte. Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael
The beggar lay on a slab in the back room of the Temple. Naamah looked at the body, a big man wearing an old threadbare cloak, notable only for having a sunburst pattern on its back. Probably had been expensive once but was now ragged and worn. The mans hair was a tousled, matted mess its color hard to make out under the blood that had dried in it and run over the mans face.
"Cloak is an unusual pattern. Somebody might remember that. Sergeant, please send some of the guard around to talk to the market people near where the body was found, find out if anybody has seen the beggar hanging around. He might have family and they have a right to know."
Two of the younger priestesses, both looking definitely morning-after-the-night-before, came in, bringing a tub of hot water. Naamah gestured to them, telling them to put it down by the body. She was frowning as she looked at the body. "Sergeant, how was the body positioned when you found it? Ishi, lie on the floor so the Sergeant can show me."
The girl laid down and the Arnon quickly positioned her, on her back, one leg folded under the other, one arm doubled up, the other outstretched. Naamah looked at her and then at the body on the slab. Still frowning, she took a cloth, soaked it in the hot water and started to wash the head. Almost immediately, she stopped and smelt her fingers. "Sergeant, do you recognize this smell?"
Arnon sniffed at her fingers. "Hair oil Your Royal Highness, scented hair oil. Its a cheap one, the sort a servant might get if he wanted to impress a serving girl."
"That's what I thought. Now why would a beggar have hair like this dressed? Even with cheap hair oil? He wouldnt would he?"
"Perhaps he hit his head on a jug?"
Naamah felt the mans skull. "No, feel this injury to his head. Not there, here, on top, a bit more towards the front. Triangular depression with a sharp edge to it. Bad one. Lot of force there. Nothing at the bottom of the ditch that could cause this?" Arnon shook his head. "Then we don't have an accident here after all. Somebody bashed his head in. This man was murdered."
Naamah continued to wash the body. As she removed the caked blood and dirt, it lost its old and disreputable appearance and became that of a man in early middle age, strong, well built with scars that told of fights only won at some cost. Removing the mans robe confirmed that opinion. Whoever the man was, he wasnt a beggar, his hair had been messed up and hed been dressed in an old robe to try and hide his identity. Naamah was trying to remember if shed seen the face anywhere when the guards returned with a man from the market.
"Your Royal Highness, this man remembers seeing a beggar wearing a cloak with sunburst pattern. Says he was in the marketplace yesterday afternoon."
"This cloak?" Naamah had folded it so the worst of the blood was hidden but the pattern was on top.
"Yes Your Highness. Saw the beggar wearing that sometime about noon yesterday. Felt a bit sorry for him I did. Looked a bit like a youngster, not filled out y'know. Sad to see a young'un starting out at the bottom like this."
Naamah was staring at the man, her dead eyes making him sweat with fear. "Come with me. Could this be the man you saw?"
"Oh no Your Royal Highness. Impossible, the beggar wearing this cloak was much smaller. Wait a minute." The market man looked closer. "That's Orem, the chief steward of Khamsur, the wine merchant." The man looked as if he wanted to say something else but was afraid.
"What else?" Naamahs voice was calm and that combined with the flat, lifeless stare from her eyes was terrifying. "If you prefer, I can persuade you to tell me what you know."
The man gulped. There were rumors about what Sammael's Queen could do to those who displeased her. "It's just that Orem has a bad reputation Your Royal Highness. Hangs out with crooks, likes to pick fights with those who cant fight back. Likes to knock ladies around. Some say a couple of people who stood up to him got their wives raped shortly afterwards."
"Why hasn't the guard been told about this? His Majesty does not look kindly on those who disturb the peace of his subjects."
Arnon spoke softly. "Your Royal Highness, no man wants to admit that he cannot protect his household or provide for his family. Most would accept much to avoid the shame of making such admissions."
Shaking her head angrily, Naamah returned to the slab where Orems body lay. She was sorely tempted to spit on it but that would not have been a fitting display for Royalty. Beside the slab, Ishi was still lying in the position Arnon had arranged her, only now she was asleep and snoring gently. Let her stay there, she thought, the girls need a rest. That reminded Naamah of other business.
"Any news of Enore, wife of Schechem?"
Arnon shook his head. "Not a word Your Highness. The Guard made inquiries but nobody has seen her. Not since yesterday. The baker reported she bought bread and olive oil just before noon but nobody has seen her since."
"Does she have family around here? Other than her husband?"
"She has an uncle, quite wealthy so I am told. Owns some good land and has vineyards that make excellent wine. Her parents are dead but she has four brothers still alive. They are some way away though. You think she ran back to her family?"
Naamah shook her head. "Women run to our Kingdom sergeant, not from it. Send a runner, tell Khamsur his steward lies dead in the Temple of Astarte. Watch him carefully, see how he responds to the news. And tell him to collect the body. A man who abuses women has no place in Astarte's Temple."
By the time Naamah had finished the morning rituals and assigned the priestesses their duties in cleaning the Temple, it was almost time for her to go back to the Palace. The odd case of Orem had driven her hangover out of her mind, her headache and nausea had long gone. So she was already hungry and the smell of roasting meat from the altar made her mouth water. In the main hall of the Temple, Schechem and his wife were kneeling beside an entire lamb stretched out over the sacred fire. The Priestesses would eat well tonight.
"Schechem, Enore, a most generous sacrifice in honor of Astarte. All is well?"
"Your Royal Highness, yes indeed! Thanks to the Goddess, yes indeed. Enore has arrived back safely just now and I have paid my debt to the Guild of Hosts. So we came to praise Astarte for her blessings."
"The Goddess sees and remembers your faithfulness. Many make offerings when asking favors but few remember to show their gratitude when the favor is granted."
Naamah left the Temple and summoned Arnon from the Guardhouse. "Sergeant, I wish to make a short journey outside. Please summon a palanquin and provide me with six soldiers as escort. "
"Yes, Your Highness."
Naamah enjoyed palanquin rides, especially with an escort to clear people out of the way. She didn't get to leave the Palace and Temple much, her duties as High Priestess and Queen took too much time. So she luxuriated in being carried through the streets, not least for the respect that she was shown as Sammael's Queen. All the more so because she knew Sammael had earned the respect he received from his people. In a way she was disappointed when she got to the Headquarters of the Guild of Hosts. Her soldiers opened doors for her, and she enjoyed a second moment of pure pleasure as people realized who had just walked into the building unannounced. Even more delightfully, the Guildmaster actually tripped and fell in his hurry to make Obeisance to Sammael's Queen. She smiled at him, accepting the botched bow gracefully.
"Guildmaster. I understand that Schechem the Wine Merchant has paid his debt to you."
"Yes, Your Royal Highness. Paid in full with a gold bar valued at forty coins. A most honorable man."
"So I think. Have you posted news of payment of the debt yet?"
"No, Your Highness. We were just about to do so."
"Guildmaster. I would like to take the gold bar Schechem paid you with away with me for a short while. And when you post word of Schechems payment, please say it was with forty gold coins that he paid. And put forty gold coins aside to show those who ask about the payment. Nobody is to know a gold bar was paid." The guildmaster looked reluctant. "Guildmaster, I ask this as High Priestess of Astarte and your agreement will win you favor in the eyes of the Goddess. Your sacrifice will be received and the Priestesses will chant prayers in your honor. If you make me demand this as Sammaels Queen, your refusal would displease me greatly. You would find our dungeons uninviting and the other prisoners would be chanting fresh meat, fresh meat on your arrival."
The Guildmaster gulped, the lack of expression in the eyes staring at him made the threat all the more real. "I will do as you ask High Priestess."
Naamah nodded. "One other thing, I want you to do something to one of the coins, make this mark on one."
The palanquin ride back to the Palace of Dis was as enjoyable as the ride out, all the more so for the pleasure of a job well done. Sammael was already eating with some of his other wives when she got back so her obeisance to him was slightly marred by a growling stomach and an urgent desire to eat. The bread was fresh and the olive oil sweet and that made her late lunch all the more delightful. By the time she got back to her temple, it was already well into the afternoon. The sacrificed lamb was already cleared away into the kitchen, just leaving a pleasant odor of roasted herbs around the altar. She was rebuking one of the Priestesses for not taking enough care over her appearance when she heard a tumult from outside. Looking out, she saw Schechem and Enore being dragged towards the Palace, amid shouting and threats. The Priestess beside her gasped.
"Your Royal Highness, Khamsur is accusing Schechem of murdering and robbing Orem in order to pay his debts! Khamsur is demanding that Schechem be judged and executed for his crime. And Schechem seemed such a nice man too. What is to happen to him?"
"His Majesty will judge the case Ishi. Justly, as is his way. And I think it is quite obvious what his verdict will be."
Judgement Room, Royal Palace of Dis, Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Gilead
Even in early afternoon, the Judgement Room was shadowed and threatening. That wasn't an accident, King Sammael had designed it that way. It was painted a somber, threatening red with small shuttered windows that only let in enough light to provide a sinister gloom. It was a room designed to impress upon all who came there that being dragged before the King for judgement was a thing to be avoided. King Sammael sat at one end on a raised platform, looking down on the people gathered before him. It was his belief that if his people were to have faith in his judgement, they had to see judgement done. So the Judgement Room was open to spectators, as many as it could hold. Sometimes it was empty, but this time there was little room left for additional spectators.
There was a nervous stir. Queen Naamah entered the room, dropped to her knees in front of her husband and pressed her forehead to the floor. Rising, she approached him and sat by his feet, on the stone steps that led to his platform. She looped an arm around his leg and affectionately pressed her head against his knee. Another stir, a warm one this time as people took a measure of pride in the combination of respect and devotion their Queen had for their King. Sitting on his throne, King Sammael felt the same surge of affection for Naamah but for an entirely different reason. Her gesture had been a private code, head pressed against his knee meant she had solved the case and he could have his head in getting it over with. If she'd put her hand on his foot, it would have meant that she needed more time and he was to take no steps forward. Sammael looked down on his Queen, fondly admiring her for her skills and thanking Baal that none of her other suitors had had the good sense to spot and make use of her abilities.
Then, there was a disturbance, a shimmer of excitement running through the room. Three figures were dragged in and thrown to the floor in front of Sammael. Guard Sergeant of the Watch Arnon slammed the shaft of his spear on the stone floor, causing a booming impact to silence the room. Khamsur, Schechem and Enore. Accuser and accused in the murder of Orem. As each name was called out, one of the soldiers grabbed the persons hair and yanked their heads back so Sammael could see their faces. Enore yelped as it was her turn and in the shadows Lillith winced slightly. Here, before Judgement was issued, accuser and accused were the same and were treated with the same deliberate cruelty. Again, the message, Dont do anything that gets you thrown in front of the King for judgement. Lillith understood the logic but her own scalp crawled in sympathy with Enore.
"Who makes the accusation here?" Sammael's voice was gentle but it filled the room with his authority.
"It is I, Khamsur, who accuses Schechem and Enore of robbing and killing my Chief Steward, Orem. At dawn this morning I sent him out with forty gold pieces on an errand to visit local winegrowers, paying for stocks of new wine to replace that which had been drunk during the Festival of Lamps. I heard nothing from him of course but in the afternoon, I received a message from the Temple of Astarte that his body had been found in a ditch. I went immediately of course but found the gold he had been carrying was gone. Then I heard that Schechem had paid off his debt to the Guild of Hosts with forty gold coins so I went to the Guild and asked to see the coins. On one coin, I saw a distinctive mark. In was one of the coins issued by King Cain and it had a deep scratch on the head. So I knew the coins were the ones that I had given Orem only a few hours earlier. And so I accuse Schechem and Enore of conspiring to murder and rob Orem in order to pay their debt and then carrying out their foul plan."
King Sammael nodded, apparently weighing the accusation. In fact, Naamah was scratching the back of his leg with a fingernail. Their private sign that there was a question she wanted to ask.
"Has the High Priestess of Astarte anything to ask concerning this accusation?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. Just one question for Enore. Enore, was Orem going to rape you as well as rob you?"
The spectators in the room gasped and edged forward. This case was going in an unexpected direction. Kneeling on the floor, Enore went bright crimson and tears started trickling down her cheeks. She looked down at the floor and nodded, slowly and hesitantly. Beside her, her husband colored with rage and shame, staring fixedly at the floor in front of him. Enore whispered, so quietly that people had to strain to hear. "Yes Your Royal Highness. He taunted me, he told me what he intended to do to me. Terrible, shameful things."
Naamah faced Sammael. "Your Majesty, every woman knows that rape is followed by murder as surely as night follows day. Every rapist knows if he kills his victim, there is nobody left to recognize him. Enore killed Orem, yes, but she did so while fighting for her life. Astarte smiled upon her and that is the only reason why it is Orems death we investigate her today, not Enore's. I ask you to rule that Enore's killing of Orem was in self-defense and there is no blame attached to it."
"Before I make that judgement my Queen, I would hear more of what happened."
"Your Majesty, Enore should tell that tale for herself." Naamah turned back to face the accused couple. "But be advised, I do know what happened last night. If you lie to the King, you will regret it."
Enore dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her robe and took a breath to stop her voice shaking. "Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness, when our wine shipment was stolen, it was a terrible blow for us. The Guild of Hosts had paid us in advance and the money had gone. We owed them 40 gold coins and we had only a small amount in hand. All of the night before the Festival of Lamps my husband lay in bed awake, constantly worrying over where he would get the money to pay his debts. This caused me so much pain to see him unhappy. The next morning I went out and bought fresh bread and oil for him to eat that evening. Then I got an old robe we had discarded long ago and disguised myself as a beggar. I was going to see my Uncle who is a rich man. He would lend me the money my husband needed. I couldnt tell my husband what I was planning because he is a proud man who would not accept money from his wifes family unless it was already an accomplished thing. Also, the trip was not without risk, even disguised, and he would not let me take such a chance. So I went without telling him.
"I left the town in the afternoon and walked to my Uncle's farm. It was a long walk and took most of the afternoon. My Uncle didnt have the money in coin but he did have gold bars of that value. He gave me one and told me my husband could repay him when the problems were past." There was a sharp intake of breath from the audience and some of the spectators started shooting confused glances at each other. Khamsur went dead white and started making frightened looks around him. Up on the throne, Sammael was enjoying himself immensely. Hed been married to Naamah for eight years and could recognize her elegant touch behind a trap. "I stayed for the evening meal, talked with my relatives, you know, catching up with family news. Then in the early morning, I returned here. Two of my Uncle's servants escorted me to the town gates but I dismissed them there. I thought I was safe once back here.
"But I was wrong. By pure bad luck, Orem met me, saw what I was carrying and demanded I give him the gold. Then he started to threaten and taunt me. I was frightened, I knew if I did what he wanted he would kill me. So I fought him, kicked, lashed out tried to scratch him, anything to make him let me go. Then he was lying on the ground dead. So I disguised his body as a beggar and rolled it into the ditch. The I ran home to my husband and told him what had happened. He shouted and yelled at me terribly but what was done was done. He hid me in our house all morning then we went out to pay our debt and to spread the word I had just returned. We went to the Temple to give thanks for my escape and were accused as we went home."
"I thought a whole lamb was over-generous at the time, now I understand. Enore. Your story is true on all but one point. It was not bad luck that Orem met you. Your plan was good but had a fault. Young, able-bodied beggars are rare in this Kingdom."
Damned right, thought Sammael, a young able-bodied beggar in any of my cities has a career in my infantry awaiting him. Then he returned his attention to Naamah's speech.
"So rare they attract attention. A woman disguised as a beggar looks like a young man. You were seen and remembered as something unusual, a young beggar. Orem also saw you but he recognized you. He followed you to the gate and saw you leave by the road to your uncle's farm. He worked out what your plan was and decided to take advantage of it. He probably intended to rob you and spend the gold at the Festival of Lamps but you staying longer at the farm spoiled that. He waited all night and missed the Festival. That made him angry and frustrated. So when you finally returned, he was in a vile mood."
"She lies." Khamsurs voice had an edge of panic in it. He realized what he had said and frantically tried to correct it. "Enore lies. She was the robber. She was!"
Sammael had already decided that Enore was telling the truth but this case had further to go yet. Time for Naamah to make her case. "My Queen. You say Enore is telling the truth. Are you sure of this?"
"Quite sure Your Majesty. There is little mystery here. I knew something was strange as soon as I started to prepare the body of the man we all thought was a beggar. The man had been wearing hair oil, scented hair oil. It was cheap, the Guard-Sergeant described it as the sort of oil a servant would by to impress a serving-girl. But would a man who was trying to impress a woman wear an old, shabby, threadbare robe? Of course not. The robe was not his. That meant the messed up hair and the changed clothes were an attempt to disguise the body and that was the key to the whole mystery. You see, Your Highness, if a man has a heavy enough club to break his victims skull, he will not disguise a body by changing the clothes and the hair. He will smash his victim in the face, over and over again, until nothing is left but pulped flesh and shattered bone. Without a face, nobody can be recognized. But a woman knows that she can change her appearance completely by changing her clothes and her hairstyle. It is the thing she instinctively thinks of when disguising something. The moment I saw the body had been disguised by changing the hair and the clothes, I guessed the killer was a woman."
Sammael looked around. The women in the audience were nodding, Naamah's point had struck home.
"Then, in inspecting the victim, I found the wound that had killed him. A heavy blow, a very heavy one indeed. It crushed the top and front of the skull. That meant the blow must have been struck from the front. If the killer had approached the victim from behind and struck from behind, the damage would have been to the back of the head. Another clue was the blood. It was over his face and clotted with dirt. Wounds to the scalp bleed greatly and the blood flows fast. If he had been struck from behind, the blood would have flowed down his back with only trickles on his face. The victims face was covered with a sheet of blood, suggesting again, that the blow was from the front and the initial rush of blood flowed down over his face. There was enough time while the killer was redressing the body and messing up the hair for that blood to start to dry and so, when the body was rolled into the ditch, dirt stuck to the blood, instead of wiping it off. All that implies the blow was struck from the front, not the back and that implies a fight, not a robbery.
"So, the next step was trying to find out who. I had the guard make inquiries about a beggar wearing the robe found on the victim. Sure enough, the robe was remembered, but not just for its pattern. A market seller remembered the robe but also that the beggar wearing it was a young man, not filled out. That is rare enough here that he made a point of mentioning it. Women are smaller than men and it seemed to me that the young beggar may really be a woman disguised as a male beggar. That would, of course, strengthen the belief that the killer was a woman, the same women. Also, our witness identified the victim at last and his account of Orem's character made a lot of things fall into place.
"One thing continued to puzzle me. Orem was killed by a single heavy blow to the head. How? Women are not usually strong enough to do that. It is possible for a woman to beat a man to death but it takes time and many, many blows. To do so with one single heavy blow is almost impossible. Unless the woman has a small, very heavy object that can deliver a crushing blow. She could hold that in her hand or have it in a bag, it doesnt matter although the bag would be better. Such an object, swung with an overarm blow, by a woman desperately flailing with every weapon she can find, would do the damage to Orems head. Especially if he was kneeling."
"Why should he be kneeling?" Sammaels voice was curious.
"Your Majesty, Enore was brought up, the only girl in a family with four brothers."
Sammaels face split into a knowing grin. "She kicked Orem in his privates!"
"Exactly Your Majesty. In the desperation of her fight, she did the thing she found to be effective when fighting with her brothers. And she had an advantage." Naamah slipped off one of her jewelled sandals. "These are the slippers your household wears indoors. Light and beautiful but useless. Can't even walk in them outdoors." Naamah went over to where Lillith was taking notes in the shadows and took one of her sandals. "These are the sandals town women wear when walking. See the thick, heavy leather sole? See the strong straps? See how hardened it is? Makes a potent weapon with a well-placed kick. Astarte answered Schechems prayers for Enores safety by guiding her foot to the most damaging spot. Shocked by pain, sudden and unexpected, Orem sank to his knees, probably with his head a little down. In that brief second, before he recovered, she slammed the gold bar onto his head, killing him. Perhaps it was just she was swinging the bar anyway, perhaps she realized that in a second or two Orem would recover and tear her apart, I don't know, I don't think Enore does. But it was self defense.
"I already was convinced it was Enore who had killed Orem when she and her husband appeared at the temple. The sequence was too neat. Enore appears in the market. Enore disappears and a woman-disguised-as-a-beggar appears. Orem is killed by a woman-disguised-as-a-beggar, the woman-disguised-as-a-beggar disappears, now Enore reappears. The presumption that the woman-disguised-as-a-beggar was Enore was overwhelming. When I heard that Schechem's debt had been paid I went to see the Guild of Hosts. They told me the debt had been paid with a gold bar and at that moment I knew I had the weapon Enore had used. I took the bar and arranged for the guild to show anybody who asked, forty normal gold coins, one of which I had marked. You see, if somebody inspects forty coins, theyll find a distinctive mark on one of them. I didnt meant to make it hard for him so I had a coin from King Cain obviously marked. Khamsur fell into the trap and made his accusation based on the coins. It doesn't prove that Enore was telling the truth although everything else I found points to that. It does confirm that Khamsur is lying and knowingly made a false accusation. That is enough to condemn him.
"There is one last question. Who robbed Schechems wine delivery? We do not know although it is well-known that Orem had contacts with the criminal world and could easily have arranged it. Did Khamsur order it done? I do not know although I can extract an answer if Your Majesty wishes?"
King Sammael shook his head. "I cannot allow that without better evidence. What we have heard today is enough. I do not agree that the killing of Orem was self-defense. The kick to the groin that disabled him was self-defense. If the blow that killed him had been planted deliberately to prevent him renewing his attack, that would also be self-defense. But I believe that Enore was flailing wildly in her desperation and she did not plant the blow intentionally. I rule that Orems death was an accident brought about by his own evil and criminal acts. If anybody chooses to regard it as a divine punishment for his crimes, I would be the last to disagree. I will also add there is no cause for a feud here. Orems death was an accident. The matter ends there and any who try to pursue it further will meet with my most severe displeasure.
"Schechem and Enore stand up. You are no longer the accused here. But remember this for it is the principle of how I rule my Kingdom. It is good to be acquitted but it is better to never have been charged. You both stand here because of your own stupidity. Schechem, you were in financial trouble, you had rich relatives to whom you could turn for help. That is what families are for. Indulging your pride by refusing to go to your wifes relatives for help was foolish and nearly cost your wife her life. Every member of my household helps me in their own way whether they be wives or servants. And I am proud of that for it is how it should be. Enore, not telling your husband of your plan was also stupid and nearly got you killed. It was your responsibility to persuade him to agree to your plan and then he should have accompanied you to your uncle's farm. That would only have been courtesy, your failure to do so was rudeness to your uncle. I remind both of you that stupidity always carries its own death sentance. Do not be stupid again.
"Khamsur. You disgust me. You make knowingly make a false accusation and attempt to use my courts for your own schemes. I order my staff to make inventory of your property and a full valuation of it. Of that valuation, three coins in ten shall go to Schechem and Enore in compensation for the wrong you have done them. Five coins in ten shall be paid to the Royal Treasury, to be used to increase patrols along the roads near her so that robberies will be reduced. One coin in ten shall be given to Queen Naamah who will divide it out, as she considers fair and just, between the Guild of Hosts, the members of the Guard and all those others who assisted her in solving this affair. Be it noted, all those who assist in maintaining the public good will be rewarded. Khamsur, you may keep one coin in ten to support yourself in the future."
"One coin in ten Your Majesty? I will starve."
"I know. Lillith, have you completed the record of the Judgement." In her corner, Lillith completed making a note on her tablet and nodded. She passed the record up to Sammael who read it. "As it is written, so shall it be!"
Royal Palace of Dis, Shyt'tin, Kingdom of Sammael, Gilead
"What are you doing Lillith?"
It was late in the evening, the sun was already below the horizon and the heat of the day was gone. Lillith was sitting, writing out notes on a scroll. "I'm writing down how you solved today's case. I thought it was worth saving for the future."
Naamah looked thoughtful. "Lillith, have you noticed something strange about, well about us?"
"Many things as a matter of fact. Which ones do you mean?"
"Lillith, I married Sammael very late. I was already twenty four and my parents had given up hope of finding me a husband. We have been married for eight years and that makes me thirty two. Sammael is older than me of course, more than ten years older. When we married he had black hair, now he has a gray streak above his forehead and his temples are gray. Also, his face has lines where once it was smooth. But me? After eight years of marriage and two children I have no gray hair and my face is unlined. This is strange. I ask you about this because you are older than me yet you also show no signs of it - and after what happened to you, there should be."
"I am not older than you. But people age at different rates Naamah. Only the gods are immortal and we are not gods. Dont be in a hurry to get old, it will come soon enough. None of us are immortal."
"Immortal? Don't bother, there's nobody around. Who's immortal?" Sammael slumped into his favorite chair, Naamah went over and nestled down next to him, feeling the comfort of his arm around her.
"We were just talking about immortality. Is everything sorted out?"
"Yes, Khamsur is weeping as his goods are distributed. Schechem and Enore are going off to visit her uncle. The Guild of Hosts are throwing a party for the Guard." That was after all what the Guild of Hosts did, ran celebratory feasts and parties. Throwing one for the Guard who had been on duty during the Festival of Lamps was a good investment for them. "But immortality is something we do not have to worry about. None of us are immortal and we'll all return to dust. Someday, somebody may read Lillith's scroll about the case where there appeared to be two beggars but were really none at all. When they do so, they will remember our names. That is the best we can hope for and for me, its enough."