Siege of the Holy
"Oh, what stuff you must be made from, woman, that you can do these things?" the woman scolded her, sharply. "No demon ever worked your wonders, and yet here you sit, as if you have done nothing at all. Here you sit!"
Anath-Sin turned to look at her. As loud as she was being scolded, she could barely hear the words over the scolding she was giving herself. She had brought all of this on herself, after all. She had left Akkad for Nippur like a thief in the night (oh, and aren't you a thief, among your other talents, Anath-Sin? she cursed herself. Wasn't that the way you left Methos, by the side of the sea?) hoping he would forget their few nights of passion.
Of course, he hadn't. He was just like herself, after all, and never let anything go. He sent messengers after her. He exiled Enheduenna, daughter of Sharrukkin, and named her high priestess. He did everything but come in person to drag her back to Akkad. He even sent soldiers-although what happened to them, none could properly say, other than Anath-Sin had disappeared, shortly followed by the disappearance of the soldiers, and then, only Anath-Sin returned.
"Worked my wonders?" Anath-Sin asked.
"Worked your wonders. You, a stranger and a foreigner, yet are sponsored by the old hag, Nanshe, who swears you are the kinswoman of our old mistress-dead twenty years. Or better."
"Anyone could look at me and see that I am…who had once laid eyes on her." She was growing ever more annoyed with this woman. She had enough to think about. Of course, Nanshe recognized her. They had known each other for years-before she had had to leave.
"You lay with the king once-just once-and he loses his senses."
"He is as sane as you or I," Anath-Sin growled. If the woman were wise, she would know better than to continue. Anath-Sin rarely felt the need to growl. Also, she did not like pondering whether or not Naram-Sin was sane. It made her very uncomfortable. An intelligent man is more dangerous if he loses his mind-a man both strong and intelligent is absolutely deadly when mad.
"As sane as you, perhaps. I think the better of my senses. And now, they say he and his soldiers come this way to take you by force."
"Do they?" Anath-Sin then asked. There was an interesting development.
"There is no one who would stand between them and you-I can tell you this much. We will cast you out into the streets."
"There will be no need," Anath-Sin smiled. "Do they say he leads them? That he, himself, has come from Akkad to see me?" She rose, and her hands went to her hair. She wondered if she looked presentable.
"You must be kin, the both of you. You are both mad!"
The woman was roughly pushed aside. A messenger was approaching. He seemed disheveled and badly used, and he gasped. Anath-Sin grabbed him by the arm.
"Do you come from the king? Have you seen him?"
The messenger, heedless of her rank, grabbed at her garment, and his eyes were wild. She could then see the truth even before he spoke it.
"See him? Come from him? I was fleeing! The soldiers he brings-do you not smell the fires? He means to tear the city apart over you!" The man doubled over into a fit of coughing. "Can you not see…" And the messenger expired. Anath-Sin looked down at the dead man, calmly.
"Is that how he wishes to win me?" she asked aloud. She felt touched. This was certainly an inducement, and she couldn't very well let him kill dozens of innocent people just for her.
"Win you?" the woman asked incredulously. "He was not lying-behold, out the casement-the smoke."
"He is the one coming this time," Anath-Sin said, gently. "I will see him, then."
"You are mad…"
Anath-Sin pushed the woman to the floor, adjusted her skirt, and then left the temple. She looked for the direction in which the fires were being set. She could see the soldiers-marching straight for the temple. Part of her despaired over the ruin, but another part of her understood it. It wasn't as if she, herself, hadn't destroyed a city every now and again. It was a part of youth.
And then she saw him, sword in hand. He did cut a fine figure that way. She was rather proud of him, if somewhat angered. This would not do. She had to bring this to a halt. She marched in his direction, calling his name.
"Naram-Sin, my king! Is it not me you came for?"
It was an unthinkable thing. She called him out to his face, and stepped in the path of the soldiers. She bore a look on her face as if this happened to her all the time. He called out to the troops, and then descended from his chariot, stunned at the fury on her face.
"Let us speak in the temple like beings with sense," she then said, and turned around, ascending the temple steps. He paused, watching her in shock, and then, followed her at a run.
*****
He grabbed her arms and pulled him to her. "You owe me an explanation."
She turned in his grasp, partially shrugging him off. "I owe you nothing. I've given you a great deal-and giving you distance from me is yet another gift. You repay me for this by burning the holy city-you have no idea what this calls upon your head."
"Have I done nothing for you?"
"What? Exiled your supposed kinswoman in favor of another? Do you wish to know what these woman have to say about me for that?"
"All you had to do was come to me."
"Of course. And ruin your life. How foolish of me not to think of it. Better you should come here and ruin both of us."
It was so obvious to him, wasn't it? She looked into his eyes, and she felt herself growing weak. They had been the blue of the sky when he was younger, but had intensified in color with age. She could barely explain what he did to her own reason. She felt it simply did not exist where he was concerned.
"I am no good for you, do you understand?"
"No. You said you would give me anything I asked. Why not yourself?"
She thought about that. She had assisted Sargon in building his empire. She knew the ways of war, as well as any man living. The lessons could begin now, couldn't they? She wanted to give herself to him. Where was the harm? Perhaps she had been wrong in thinking her influence would corrupt him-it was too late. He was already corrupted. But she would be damned before she made it worse. All she could do was show him how to be better at it. Teach him distrust and cynicism. School him in cruelty. And make him hate her.
"My king-two wills such as ours would tear the world apart," she said, sadly.
"Do not call me your king. I was a god when I was in your arms."
"My young god." She turned. She would not look him in the face. It would break her heart.
"Why do you run from me?"
"You do not know what I am. You know only the least thing about me. And yet you think you want anything to do with me. I have made a horrible mistake. I should leave Nippur, and ride out to the west. I will," she said, almost meaning it.
"Then take this with you," he said, with some heat, and she felt a cold point touching her skin. She looked over her shoulder at it, and recognized it instantly. Her copper sword, the one she had pointed at Manishtusu and dropped in Uruk all those years ago.
"Drive it in. You might as well."
"What good would it do?" he asked in despair, and flung it aside. "Is it because you don't die that you don't feel? What must I do?"
"Leave me. You are breaking my heart."
"You don't have one." He picked the sword up from the floor. "Have you any use for this?"
"If you must remember me, have that to remember me by," she answered, coldly. Oh, if she didn't think he had found a new way to kill her. All this time, she worried about someone taking her head. Now, someone had found a way to kill her with grief.
"I will remember you every day…all I need to do is see myself in a mirror."
"How you love to make me suffer, and how I begin to like the suffering. Don't throw that at me. You hated him-that's why you did it. Don't begin lying to yourself, it's a hard habit to give up."
He regarded the sword in his hand. "Is that a lesson your years have taught you?"
"My years have taught me that all my actions have consequences, and so will yours. Heed my words-do you not see what you did in coming to Nippur with men and burning it? This is the action of a king? This is an action of a man who will not be remembered fondly. Allow me one lesson, my young god. The people-all people-are fickle. An act like this is an offense to their taste-they would call it an offense to the gods. And all you need is one act from the gods-a storm, a plague-and they will blame you. Your actions need to be beyond reproach. By this siege, you have done a thing hard to reverse."
He grinned. "You would counsel me as if you were my mother?"
"I would counsel you as if you were my king."
"You speak of storms and plagues-my actions have already cost me if they cost me your heart. I know you care for me-but I won't push you, old woman. You'll come to me. You'll have no choice."
"Because of my love for you?" Anath-Sin answered, beginning to feel a touch of concern.
"Because you won't have a temple to hide in." He turned, and began to walk out of the temple. Her eyes widened in horror, seeing that he would make good his words.
"Naram-Sin?"
He continued walking.
"You would do this thing?"
He did not turn.
"For the love of the gods, have you no tenderness?" She hurried after him, and grabbed his arm. "Can you not respect me for what we are to one another?"
"Nothing. You will have nothing to do with me. We are nothing to one another."
"This was how Manishtusu took you away from me, do you not recall?"
He paused at that. "Yes, it was, wasn't it?" He shook her loose.
"The people will hate you. They will call you cursed." She reached for him again, twisting his arm. "I won't have you destroy your own fame for this. I won't have it. You selfish bastard." Her other hand tangled itself in his hair. "Look at me. You will not do this thing. Not over me."
Their faces were inches apart, and their eyes locked. She did not know what to make of him. He put his arms around her.
"You are strong for a woman, Anath-Sin."
She did not know if he was hiding a smile. She was tempted to slap him like a bad child. She was beaten, and she knew it.
"And you are evil, even for a god. Stubborn, manipulative…"
"Make a better man out of me then."
She relented. He was too much for her. His hands were moving down her back, and she was beginning to feel that weakness again. He had found out the way to manage her-threats and sex. She kissed his throat. "I'm afraid to make anything of you."
"You've made me a king. You've made me a god."
"I'll make you no better than a murdering scoundrel."
"I'm that, too, unless you've forgotten."
It was too pleasant, holding him. She had very nearly forgotten that part, but she supposed it was true enough. He was of course, not even Immortal yet, and had already done enough damage. She realized it might be better if she kept an eye on him.
"My lover, my young god," she began.
"Call me that name, the foreign one."
"Kronos. Take your men, and return to Akkad. I will try to handle what damage has fallen out here, and then I will join you."
He held her a little tighter, and then answered her.
"My men will go to Akkad, and you will have time to do what you must here. But you will not join me in Akkad. I would have you join me in Uruk, where last we were parted. Down by the tombs, where I saw you die."
Her heart pounded. Why ever would he want her there? She dared not question his whim.
"As you wish."
*****
The people were glad to see her go, and surprised that the king was not pulling her away by her hair. She had waited the span of one month before making the journey, hoping some part of his passion for her would have cooled, but also in despair as no part of hers had cooled towards him. She went, attended by some few women she had selected, and some temple slaves.
He stood among the ruins-for the tombs were old in that city. He seemed alone, perfectly still and alone.
"One month, as agreed," he said.
"I keep my promises. To you, I always would."
"The new moon. A dark sky. Not the way the moon shone the night before I saw you die."
"Why must you remind me?" She put down the lantern she carried, and went to him, but he held her away from him, turning her to face the stones.
"Look. What do you see?"
"I see the markers of the dead. I see a field…what would you have me see?"
"Twenty-five years does not seem like a long time to you, Anath-Sin. This is where I'll be in twenty-five years. Permanently. And you will wear that same face. Perhaps you will mourn me. Or perhaps you will ride off with some stranger. You call me after a god of time-but I have none."
"You will outlive me," she answered, sadly, knowing it to be true. She had heard what the Oracle said. She knew what he was. She longed to tell him all of it. But that was never done. It was not his time. "What is this about?"
"This is where I was as I watched you leave. I want the years back."
"It doesn't happen that way. Nothing I can do will make up for that. I know it-why don't I tell you the truth? You look. You know I once carried a sword. You saw that I went out of here on horseback. You look at these tombs and these graves. Do you want to know what I see?"
She pointed into the night and then turned to him, eyes blazing.
"This is not even half the bodies I have laid to earth in my time. Not even half of the corpses I have made could be buried here. Must you be told what I am? I could take you out to a place where my name is known. I could show you things you never dreamed."
"I've seen war."
"You've seen nothing. But I am only telling you this so that you know-nothing impresses me. Not your demonstration. Not your lost years without me. I can love you. Yes. I will agree to be with you. Yes. But do not think to make me pity you. You have gifts you don't even know about. Why the concern with me? What do you want from me?"
He pulled her close, stroking her hair. He smoothed it over her shoulder and back from her neck, and began kissing her there.
"Don't you know? You even said it yourself."
"Hmm?"
"I want you to suffer. I want you to hurt, the way you make me hurt."
"My young god, Kronos. You do make me suffer. Why else do I come here to be in your arms? To have my heart bruised. I must think it better to be wounded by you than caressed by any other man. No other man has ever spoken to me as cruelly as you do, nor made me think such strange things."
"Is that love?"
"I have no other name for it," she answered in a whisper. She could not understand why it was like this-that he hurt her one moment, and now he spoke of love. She only knew that the feel of his skin against hers in the night air was wonderful-cool and gentle. She leaned against him and let his arms envelop her. "Why must there be pain between us? Why can't it be simple?" She turned in his arms, facing him. "I wish I had given you a life you seemed to enjoy more."
"You take lives. The way you took the life of one of Father's…Manishtusu's guards…that night. I learn more about you all the time."
"And you hate me." She said. It was not a question. She almost felt certain it was true. He could hate and love in one breath.
He did not respond with words, but kissed her. The way he was touching her was almost violent, but she clutched him just as tightly. She did not know how to make him understand. He seemed to be pushing her, and she stumbled. Half-angered, she pulled him down with her, and they were on their knees in the dirt.
"It would be just as easy to love me, since we are both so alike," she hissed. "Rip my heart out or make love to me-make up your mind."
"I don't know what I want to do with you," he said, and she could hear a sob in his voice. She reached out her hand to take his own.
"Do whatever is easier. It doesn't matter to me." She pressed his fingers to her lips. She thought of something then. She drew the dagger she kept strapped to her leg. His eyes widened, and she thought, one more fleeting instant, of simply stabbing him. Would it not be easier if he knew the truth? But this was a thing she had done, time after time. It was a way old among her people. She had done this with the men who fought with her-why not do this with the man who fought against her, but still loved her as fiercely as she loved him?
"Shh…I do not mean to kill you," she said, smiling. She turned his wrist to her lips then, and kissed it, gently. "You hate me for your life. For not being your mother. For leaving you. For your not having kin-Manishtusu was a poor choice, I see that now. You want those years back, but I only know of one way to make us kin. We are the same-you'll see that, one day. We are more alike than you know. And I want the same blood to flow through your veins and mine. I want you to believe that I would never leave you again-that I would always return. Death won't even part us. Just a little cut from us both-as a matter of trust. So small it wouldn't even scar."
She looked him in the eye and held the dagger to his wrist. He fought the directness of her gaze
"You do not trust me. Or you fear me, I do not know which," she sighed.
The words struck him, and he plucked the dagger from her grasp. He made a cut in his own wrist, unflinching, and then held the blade up. She pressed her own flesh against the blade, making sure the cut was deep enough that it would not heal before the blood truly began to flow. And then, they held their hands fast.
"Not even death, Anna."
Her heart felt lighter looking on him. He did understand. She knew she had healed, and then she kissed his wound. She saw the solemn look in his eyes, and so she kissed him, hoping he would smile for her.
"Have you made up your mind, then, Kronos? Are we lovers, or must you hurt me again?"
He then leaned forward, kissing her firmly. One hand cupped her breast, and then, as he leaned still further forward, his other hand reached for the ground. She was being laid back, even in the dirt.
"I am happy enough that I do not even care that we do this here. Let the dead witness it. Let the gods witness it."
"We are the gods, Anna. Have you forgotten?"
They made love, and when they were through, she looked up at the night sky, full of stars. Even lying before the steps of a tomb, she was happy-as happy as she ever had been on a bed of silk or a bed of furs. She also thought he looked wonderfully happy. She rolled over, and caressed his bare chest with one careless hand.
"You are so quiet, now. I must know what you are thinking."
He seemed troubled then, as if a terrible thing occurred to him. "You may be displeased with me."
"How, then? What could you have done to displease me?"
"I had thought that you would come here only to leave again as you had before."
"You know now that I would not. If ever I were away from your side for a moment, I would return. I swore."
"Yes, you have," he said, contentedly. He grasped her arm, and raised her unblemished wrist his face. He inspected it with interest, and then kissed it quickly before letting her arm go. "You would come back to me." He fell silent again. She waited.
"Come, my young god. Don't be like a guilty child-confess. What have you done that will displease me?"
He looked up at the sky, then. It was a lovely night. Cool, but clear. He wondered how his soldiers were faring. By now, they should be making the trip for home, although this time, by the more direct route. Before, he had sent them by a way that would have neatly avoided the possibility of them encountering Anna and her entourage.
"Should you have left, you would only have gone back to Nippur. And this was a thing I couldn't bear. You are my woman, now-not a priestess. And so-I did not want for there to be a city for you to return to."
She looked at him, stunned. She struggled to her feet, and he also rose.
"You do not play such a game with me, do you?"
"I am a king," he answered.
She glared at him. He was an impossible man. She could feel the words making their way out of her mouth before she could call them back.
"I will return to you-Kronos. I will-to these tombs. I will see you, dead."
She pushed him backwards, and his head slapped against the marble. She knew it would not kill him-damn him. She also knew she had only knocked him unconscious. Fine. And, furious, she left for where even he could not search her out.