And Never Let Go
Her eyes smoldered a deeper blue like wet reeds from the riverbed set to smoke out the vermin on a hot summer's day, and for a moment, even Manishtusu forgot his bombast. She was stiff-necked, but he would make her see reason. Why would she not simply let go? This was what they had agreed upon, after all-the child was his. He had been raised among women long enough...it was time he saw his inheritance. It was time he saw what he was-a son of kings.
But Anath-Sin saw another story-his foolishness. What made him believe that any should know better than she what should be done with the boy? He had attained seven years of age, and was still learning. Everything he did delighted her. Who was the Prince, but her pawn? He was not the boy's true father. Even Manishtusu, for his ignorant ways, should be able to see that! How then, was the boy so pale, and eyes as light as her own...there was nothing to compare!
"And you see that Sharrukkin his grandfather does love you both," Manishtusu went on, but she half-listened. Of course Sharrukkin would love the child for her sake. She went on bent knee before him and spilled the story out to him, Sharrukkin, who alone knew her own secret! What king could have been more certain of the Goddess' favor than Sharrukkin, who had her very ear! And when she told him of how she found Naram-Sin, he roared with laughter-was this not the self-same fiction she had invented to cover up his shame, as the son of a temple whore? There was the pity...that a real man like Sharrukkin should begin to fail and such unworthies as Rimush and Manishtusu should take his place. Even now they strove over the land, and the King was not yet dead.
"And, in his love for us both, does he not care for the child-how he is to learn? How he is to be brought up?" she asked. Manishtusu rolled his eyes heavenward-would the Gods not spare him this? The woman argued to no purpose-it was as if she spoke out of the pleasure of hearing her own voice! The child was to be his heir...so long as he was brought up loyal to Agade, what did it matter? Sharrukkin was dying, and the dynasty must go on.
"He has always honored his word to you--even by your appointment, even though your family is unknown, he favored you in this, Anath-Sin," Manishtusu answered. "Now it is your turn to honor an agreement. Surrender the boy to me."
Her face colored. This impudent whelp could not begin to know the favors that went behind her appointment here. She had given plenty to the kingdom. Her knowledge, her experience...her arm in conquering, her voice in counsel. He could not know what she was.
But all Manishtusu saw was a stiff-necked fox-bitch that should know by now that she was beaten.
"You know the penalty for denying me."
She did. It was as written.
Death.
She hung her head. It was over. She must allow him the boy. She was certain of one thing, however...this was not the end of it.
"I know," she said, then, slowly. "I know the penalty. You shall have him, to raise in your house. And you may believe he will forget me-I tell you he won't! I will bring him myself to Uruk, and there you will show him your palace, your temples even to rival these at Nippur...but I will know, and he will know...and I will let you know, Manishtusu-he is still mine."
And with that, she rose and left him there, his mouth agape. And she descended down the steps into the lower chamber, to see the light of her eyes, Naram-Sin.
*****
"Anna, with whom did you speak?" the boy asked.
"It was the prince, your father, with whom I spoke. He desires to have you go with him, and I have allowed it. You will go at first to Uruk and then to Akkad. You will know the city of your fathers. And I shall take you there," she answered, trying to make her voice bright, even though she wanted to weep.
"There I shall meet the mighty Sargon, my grandfather?" he asked, his eyes like stars. He knew of Sharrukkin, even though he had not met him. She had seen to that. "Will I be like him? Shall I be a conqueror? Will I be a king?"
Let him play with these notions, she thought to herself.
"Yes, you shall be a king, and your empire will outstrip even that of Sharrukkin. Will you not run forth, and even now find some corner of the earth to win?" And so he ran from her, his child's mind full of play at the idea of conquest. She smiled at his whim, the smile of one that has done battle, seeing a child who is innocent of shedding blood. And then she felt it, as she had not in these seven years.
It was the signature of another Immortal.
She rose, and went in the direction of the sensation.
It was only Methos. But his face was grim, and she knew it was that same old story-Akkasur. She had hoped that the "welcoming party" she threw him some years back would have discouraged him, but he would prove resolute. She wished for the moment that she would hear something else, and so she greeted him.
"What brings you here?" she asked, but she knew by Methos' silence and the look on his face what it was.
"It is Akkasur," she breathed.
"It is...and I would have you come with me," he said, desperately. How long had she languished here, playing nursemaid and mother and whore and all these foolish games? Methos knew her true nature, why didn't she?
"I would," she replied, knowing it was time. She had been at this temple many years, and tongues were beginning to wag. "But there is unfinished business, both between you and myself and between me and the boy."
And she motioned him aside, as she would not have the child see this man...his appearance wild and strange. He would not understand the type of man Methos was, anymore than he would understand what she had been.
"Methos, I have lost him," she said, her voice full of pain.
Methos closed his eyes. Better she should. Why would she cling to anything that weighed her down-that made her an easier mark? Why cling to this child and this life here, when it meant being easily found? But he said nothing, and simply listened. This was the easiest thing to do.
And she unburdened herself, as she was wont to do. For she would tell Methos anything.
No matter what he had ever done, she did care for him.
*****
She cared for him, but was well aware that there was no one on this earth that could irritate her more. This thought occurred to her when she realized just how he had found out that Akkasur was still after her.
"So you happened to find that Akkasur was as close as Eshnunna, and just why would you be close enough to know what he intended?" she demanded, at length. Methos looked down, sheepishly. A mere boy not yet a thousand, he scarcely knew all there was to know about dealing with creatures like Akkasur.
"Do not bother answering!" she then snapped, holding up a hand as he was about to make some excuse. Then, she softened. "You were thinking of me, weren't you?"
He nodded.
"Don't. You can't fight my battles for me."
"And you won't fight them for yourself!" he fumed. "You brought this on yourself, and you won't let me..." A look crossed his face, and he asked, suddenly, "Why didn't you just take his head?"
Anath-Sin paused. Her reasons needed to be nothing more than her reasons--she could not expect Methos to understand that. Also, she could not always explain her reasons to herself--it merely seemed to be the only sensible thing to do at the time. And so, she answered as truthfully as she could.
"It wasn't his head that offended me," she answered, simply.
He couldn't stand anymore of her talk. "You simply did what occurred to you-you never think!"
"Lower your voice," she hissed, nodding in the direction of the boy. She would not have him hear a harsh word spoken to her in front of him. He was a child, but strangely protective of her.
"You never think," Methos whispered, and his eyes were more sad than furious, and he placed his hand on her face and brushed back her hair. "You were angry when you ordered it done. You do these things...like adopt this boy, and then you pay the price. And then you wonder why." He wanted to tell her what it felt like to hear her tale of woe-and feel that he had to be the one to save her, but that was a thing he would not say.
It was true, and she knew it, but didn't like it, and responded--
"We all have a price to pay for what we do...maybe not you, Methos, who will probably live forever...I hope you do!" she spat. "But don't you see? Now, what you've done...you met with him, spoke with him..."
"I said you were headed to Taurus."
"And then you headed here, to find me. And he would have followed you."
Methos grew pale at the realization.
"At the schools, they call it galam-hurum-so smart that it's foolish. Does this not describe what you've done? Methos, perhaps the best way for you to help me, is not to help me at all."
He had nothing to say to that, and simply turned. He wanted to try asking her again if she would come with him, after all, if she no longer had to look after the boy, why would she not join him this time? Wouldn't that be what she needed? She was growing soft. He left silently, and she watched him leave. It was not the first time, and she imagined it wouldn't be the last time they parted like this. With nothing to say.
She turned, herself, and looked at Naram-Sin, and wondered if he knew or felt what was about to happen. And, the thought being more than she could bear, she knelt, placed her hand on the floor, and lowered herself. She sat there, her eyes tearing. The boy came to her.
"Anna, why do you look so sad?"
She reached her hand to his face. Oh, those eyes. They broke her heart, they always did-it was as if he knew her moods, her thoughts. It was as if he were wiser than a child should be, and maybe it was her fault. She brushed his dark hair back, and then the mother in her took over, and she pulled him to her lap and held him. He was not a baby, perhaps he was too old to be held this way, but what did it matter? She would soon find her arms empty of him...best hold him while she could.
"Anna?"
She let him call her that. She would never let him call her mother-that lie would be too great.
"My son, if we were...not to...see each other, for a long time, for a very long time, would you remember me?"
His eyes became so large with the horror of the thought that she hated herself for asking, and held him tight, and tried not to cry, but did. And then, she realized she had to fix this, somehow and so she spoke, "I will try to prevent that. I don't want to ever go away from you, but perhaps I must.... I want you to know I'll never let go..." It was no good.
He seemed so young, small, and fragile to her, although she knew it would not always be this way. She wondered what he would be like as he grew, and this thought almost racked her anew...wasn't she supposed to be there? Shouldn't she get to see him grow to manhood? It was unbearable to her that she should miss the best years of his life. But she gathered herself together, and released him from her rough grip, and let him leave her lap.
"You will be good, for your father, won't you?"
He nodded, but his eyes were downcast.
"And you will be brave, for me?"
And she knew he always would.
*****
But as fate would have it, they would be taking separate routes.
She awoke to the smell of flames, and the sound of women shrieking, and her eyes were already tearing up and her throat was full of the name of one man...
"Manishtusu!" she screamed, with her voice hoarse. She bounded out of bed, knowing what this was yet being powerless to stop it. Nanshe streaked past her, and grabbed at her arm.
"My lady! They have seized Naram-Sin! It is horror! They would not hear reason!"
She looked at the fright on the eyes of one of her women, and she could not feel her own fear-only anger, and rage. She had been willing to give up the child-why did he now try this outrage upon them? And she went back to her bed, and reached underneath for the bundle that had lay there, untouched for some fifteen years.
A sword, copper, carved with serpents, deadly as snakebite, and unused for so long…but in this instance, its use was called for.
And then she felt the pain, an object cracking the back of her head, and warmth trickling down her neck, as everything went black and she sunk to the floor. Nanshe shrieked, and knelt, spreading out her arms to cover her lady, as the men went their way into the night.
"We thought you were dead," Ninsug said, as Anath-Sin's eyes fluttered open.
"How you lost so much blood and yet survived is a wondrous thing," Nanshe agreed.
But Anath-Sin barely heard them. Against their protests, she rose to her feet. They could not be far off...not carrying a small boy. She found her sword where it had clattered to the ground when she had fallen, and she held it. The feel was not unfamiliar, not unwelcome, and she knew what she had to do.
"Make ready an ass," she said.
"What would you mean to do?" the women spoke, almost in unison.
"What they have done must be avenged," she said, simply.
And they were afraid, for they had never seen her face so cold, and so full of madness.
Once she had mounted the beast, she leaned into the wind, and thrust her heels against its side, her sword strapped against her back and her breasts as bare as any slaves'. She knew no decorum or sense of place, only single-minded focus...
She would find her child. They would head to Uruk. That was all she needed to know.
*****
The ass was ridden by a woman possessed, and looked it...foam-flecked, nostrils flaring, and drops of spittle streaming from the poor beast. The state of the rider was unspeakable. The half-naked creature rode, blood red, sweat-soaked tangles falling to the waist, and eyes like the threat of a storm or the fury of a God.
She barely thought to pause, to water the creature, to feed herself...she did these things automatically, without thought, her mind had none. It was habit and instinct alone that guided her, now.
When the city of Uruk lay before her, she was reminded of the time of Gilgamesh...of the time of Dmuzzi. There was a time when this city lie, vulnerable, so easily wasted by a handful of men who possessed only the will to destroy. Now, in the time of Sargon, the cities stood strong: Uruk, Agade, even her own home of Nippur. Had she really helped to build this house? Yes.
And could she destroy it?
She knew the answer to that was "yes." There had been a time, though it seemed to her to have been an age, when she destroyed cities, houses-and for no reason at all other that the fact that she could. With this insult, she had a certain reason for her wrath.
She tied the ass to a fig tree and lay in the heat of the sun outside the walls of the city, and waited for nightfall. She slept the sleep of the just. She dreamed of blood.
******
It was not so very long ago, that Sharrukkin had welcomed her into the palace, and they spoke as friends. Perhaps it was twenty years, surely not more. It stood now as it did then...a place of bricks...cold, forbidding, she always thought. Can people who sleep in such places know the gods?
She met with a guard. He died easily, his throat cut like that of a sacrifice. His blood ran out onto the ground...her offering to gain entrance. She scaled the wall, knowing exactly with chamber held her own. She slipped through the casement, soundlessly.
He was awake. His eyes were large and luminous in the moonlight. He could make out her outline in the dim light of the room-there was no mistaking that it was she. He knew she would come to him. It would not be right that she did not bid him "farewell."
"Anna? Is that you?"
She closed her eyes and felt her heart beat naturally for once.
"My love, I had to find you...I had to say 'good-bye'..."
But then she heard the sound at the door, and realized that this "good-bye" might be only too real.
Her own eyes went wide at the sound. It was not supposed to be this way. It should have been just herself and the boy, and a few words...but then she realized that she had done it again-she simply hadn't thought. She went to the door, and had her sword drawn.
"Anna!" Naram-Sin screamed. He knew what it was she carried-the thing she wouldn't let him see. She kept it beneath her bed, and when he tried to touch it once, she nearly whipped him. But he knew it to be a sword, and always wondered why she kept it hidden-such a pretty thing...her sword. And now she had it ready to kill his father.
As he had hoped.
She tried to make her voice calm.
"Shh, please, love, don't say anything, just...be still. I must speak with your father, and explain. Be brave-you told me you would?" It was a question, she knew. She couldn't expect the boy to be anything but afraid. She cursed herself for all of it.
He bit his lips and stared at her dark form against the door. He could hardly see her-only the outline of her form and the glint off of the copper of her weapon but knew there was something different about her. She seemed strange to him-almost frightening. She paused, and then she cracked open the door, and held the point of the sword at the throat of Manishtusu. And then she began to walk him backwards, out of the room.
She was not to return.
*****
"So, you came here, knowing full well what it would mean to you," Manishtusu said, coldly. Two men were proceeding towards them...would she dare kill a Prince of the Realm before witnesses? Would that not mean her head? She lowered the blade.
"You stole him from me when I meant to give him up to you. You gave me no chance...not to say any parting words, or leave him with my love."
He snorted. "You? As if you were that child's true mother-you are not. We both know better."
The words stung like the blow of a whip. Her eyes flooded with tears. But she had to speak...she could not let that go unanswered.
"No? I have raised him, loved him these last seven years...where were you? Do you not know that when I was lonely, he was the light of my eyes? When he was frightened, when he had evil dreams-I was beside him in the night...and when I was afraid, he was beside me. You think I'm no mother to him? Look at his eyes, some time. And you'll see me in them!"
Manishtusu's face grew hard and cold. If what this whore was saying was the truth? Could she really have--? And did that not call into question his claim to the child? But his answer was the law--it would be as written.
He turned to the men.
"She will be stoned in the morning."
As he began to walk away, and the men seized her, she spoke her last words to Manishtusu--
"If you have any heart, you will not allow Naram-Sin to know of this--or he will hate you. He will hate you until the day you die, and even after your death. And I would not have him bear this sorrow of losing me twice-over..."
For she would survive the indignity of stones...and she could even bear the exile of another death...but she wondered what this sight might do to her child.
*****
"Naram-Sin!" U'bad screamed. She could not find the boy that had been placed in her care. She was certain she would be whipped for this, but he had disappeared without a trace. He was not merely hiding-she had checked every place that a child might hide. She could already tell that he would be nothing but trouble. He had a certain look in his eye that suggested a fierce will.
Then, a horror crossed her mind-the thing they were doing down by the tombs. The stoning was to take place this morning, and even now the people would be beginning to gather. She had to find him.
With this thought, she could almost even feel sympathy for the spirit-possessed creature they were putting to death. Certainly, no child should ever see his mother come to such a thing.
Although, one thing was for certain-the woman had brought it on herself, to go so against Manishtusu. U'bad felt a chill in the air, and a sense of foreboding. She knew where she had to look.
*****
He crouched in the stone doorway and made himself small, so as not to be seen. The crowd of people seemed so somber...not a mob, just people. His heart jumped when she was pushed into the center of them...and they said words like "traitor!" and "whore!" He wanted to run, to stop them, but he knew she wanted him to be brave. He stayed where he was, but watched intently. He couldn't tear his eyes away.
She seemed to pace, to wander as if in a dream, and then the first stone his her. She turned, instinctively, and then covered her face. Another hit her, and she staggered, and nearly fell. And then, it was as if she knew it was no use. She flung her arms open, and let them pelt her head, her face. Her lips moved as if in a prayer before she was clipped in the jaw, and the light went out in her eyes, and she slumped face downwards on the ground. And still the rocks came, covering her.
He bit his hand, knowing he might scream, and then perhaps he would be found.
It was over. The people walked away. Some even seemed to smile. And still he watched her form, lifeless, blood-and-dirt-spattered, half-buried. There was nothing to be done. But then he thought he saw something like a shadow across the face of the sun.
Was the sun playing tricks? Was it a dream?
Time stood still. She stirred. Her head lifted, and she seemed like a blind old woman as she pulled herself up to her hands and knees. She crawled, like a beast might crawl, and spit came out of her mouth, and then, she was on her feet.
He wondered if such a thing could be.
******
She turned, weak, in pain, the taste of death and dust in her mouth as she felt the approach, and saw the figure on horseback bearing down in her direction. The sun and the sting of sweat and blood half-blinded her, and she could not make out his face, she only knew she must accept her fate.
Naram-Sin watched as the figure lifted her and bore her away, and was still watching the woman he thought of as his mother disappeared. So long as she lived, he would see her again, he was certain.
She would never let go.