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The Barbarian King
Long ago while most of the earth languished under the glaciers of the Age of Ice, Antu created the race of men. So full of passion were they that the heat of their desires melted what remained and revealed the garden of Hatti, at the center of which they built Hattusas, the first city. As the city grew the Goddess Telepinu taught them to farm. At this they became so skilled that they neglected the herds they had depended on and deserted Aspalis, the god of the hunt. In a rage he left the city and gave his herds instead to the wild tribes that roamed Hatti. “Some day,” he vowed, “hunters will once again sit on Hattusas’ throne.”
The young priestess of Telepinu walked beside one of the dozen pack mules that made up the caravan. She pulled her blue robe around her against the chilly morning air. An errant gust caught her hood and blew it back. She squinted at the bright morning sun while brushing long strands of golden hair from her crystal blue eyes. All around was the verdant wilderness of Hatti; the hills were covered by tall grasses full of game, the trail was lined with blooming berry bushes, and the surface of Lake Van rippled with life; yet she walked along with a caravan of mules porting heavy clay urns of grain and wheat to the starving tribes of Hatti. How could the wild-landers not have enough food? She wondered to herself, remembering her father’s accusations of High Priest Zidanta’s corruption, but even if that were true it was no reason to let the wild tribes starve. Up ahead a group of dark birds leap out of the grass and flew into the blue morning and across Lake Van. The rustle of a cool breeze swept through the high grass and startled a family of rabbits; they bound down the slopes and raced across the trail into a shallow ditch on the other side. A group of guards walked ahead of her carrying their spears casually as they joke, until a sling stone ended their laughter by crashing into one of their skulls.
Suddenly the hills came alive as a band of Hurrian raiders popped up from cover and charged down the slopes at the caravan. Sherdana ducked under the pack mule. Her hand found a sticky warm pool of blood. Shocked and revolted she scrambled away through the furious melee. Weaving frantically through the scuffling feet of guards and barbarians, dodging an occasional lifeless body or bloody weapon that dropped into her field of view, she managed to reach the edge of the trail and roll into the small ditch. She curled into a small ball and clenched her eyes shut hoping not to be found.
It ends quickly and the sound of foreign speech replaces the clang and scream of battle. She was too terrified to raise her head and peak over the edge of the gully, all she saw was the intense morning sun shining down on her like a spot light. Suddenly it too was gone, blocked out by a silhouette, a wild-lander’s silhouette.
“Aspalis is the god of warriors. He does not condone murder. You are in no danger if you are unarmed.” the figure said just as he shifted his muscular frame by chance placing the sun directly behind his smooth shaved head. For a moment only the corona was still visible giving the impression of a halo as in an eclipse.
“What of the people waiting for this food? Will Aspalis condone their starvation?” Sherdana replied firmly despite her trembling.
“It is better to die than trade your freedom for
Telepinu’s handouts.”
The barbarian turned to receive a few quick words from one of his warriors. Dirty fur boots and worn leather pants wrapped powerful legs. A ragged fur cloak hung from his thick neck and revealed a bare brawny chest, at the center of which hung a strange medallion. He nodded his assent, and then turned back to Sherdana offering his hand to help her up. “We must go. You will not be safe here alone.”
******
The chamber was lavish and well lit despite having no windows. The High Priest was not concerned with the price of the scented candles he burned without moderation. Zidanta lounged on rich silk cushions; he leaned on one elbow while reviewing a parchment. His lips moved as he mumbled a few lines to himself, then held up a silver hand mirror and repeating them so he could see how he looked while speaking. He turned the mirror, checking for any graying of his thick dark hair, smoothed his goatee with thumb and fore finger and then curled his lips to inspect his teeth.
A messenger entered with a bow and said “Eminence, A group of Kasku warriors have arrived from the wilds.”
“And you let them in?” The raised eye brow indicated scorn, not curiosity, “Idiot!”
He dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand as if wiping something unpleasant from his skin then with a quick clap called a servant. He was helped into his embroidered blue robes, while the servant adjusted and brushed the garment making sure the gold lace was lined up in the center. Zidanta pushed him away after his fussing become annoying. He straightened up and pushed aside the thick curtains leading into the reception chamber.
Two warriors sat stiffly on the plush pillows, legs crossed, backs strait but their chief reclined comfortably, adapting quickly to the luxurious surroundings.
“Why are you here?” Zidanta demanded, “I told you not to come before tomorrow’s ceremony.”
“We were not followed.” Chief Kizzuwadna stated.
“Their spies are just as good as mine, you’d never know if you were.”
“The Hurrians raided the caravan before we got there, they took the girl” Kizzuwadna said as if to absolve himself of the failure.
Zidanta took a long solemn breath before his exasperated response. “I make these things as simple as I can for you people. I told you where it was, I even sent it out with only half the usual guard.”
“You should watch how you speak to us. We are feared throughout Hatti.” The barbarian claimed with an expansive arm gesture.
“You are feared because of the weapons I give you. Now go and get her or I’ll set my soldiers on you just as I do with any other caravan raiders.” Zidanta shouted.
Kizzuwadna ignored Zidanta’s glare for a moment then nodded to his warriors indicating that the meeting was over, as though by his choice. As the Kasku filed out Queen Naram-Sin slinked in through a side door.
“I heard shouting, is there a problem darling?”
Even though they had been lovers for some time Naram-Sin’s beauty was such that Zidanta’s desire never diminished. He covertly checked his breath before turning around. Her long smooth legs curved into full hips. His eyes clung to the dramatic arc as they tapered into her slender waist. The ripples of her stomach were only slightly obscured by the diaphanous gown, but it was her firm round breasts that held his attention closest as each breath strained the undersized brazier. She always dressed provocatively, uncomfortable with the idea that anyone would look too long at her face; not that it lacked any element of beauty, indeed her long dark strands of silky hair were a source of envy, and when she parted her glistening lips ever so slightly, the affect was so seductive that had it been Pandora’s Box you would have flung it open without a thought. That is exactly what it was though, if anyone looked closely at her eyes they would find instead tiny pitch filled pits that, even for a Hittite, burned intensely, constantly fanned by the hot winds of hatred, jealousy and greed. That was her true character, the secret she hid with her body.
“Nothing to concern yourself about.” Zidanta consoled as he moved close to her “Ahimelech will soon receive news that his daughter is in the hands of Kasku raiders. If he wants to see her again he’ll make sure the Guild lends me its full support.”
He was tall and handsome, though not more so than younger men. What she found most attractive in him was not his power; after all she was the one that convinced the senile old king to make him High Priest of Telepinu in the first place, thus raising him out of the ranks of the patriarchs. It was his mature qualities that she found most attractive: his cunning, his ruthlessness, his utter devotion to her. She had found him to be most useful. She leaned in close, not so much whispering as placing the words directly into his ear.
He was eager for her furtive pledge of desire, but instead heard “You had better hope that he does.” She smiled when she heard the disappointment in his breath and as she turned to leave could not resist another jab. “Now I must attend to my husband.” She said huskily over her shoulder as she slipped through the curtains and out of the room.
******
Sherdana was surprised by the small size of the Hurrian camp, a handful of tents, just thread bare patches of hides and skins stretched between a few branches passed for shelter here. The inside was strewn with shabby furs and fleeces against the cold aided by a central cook fire that lacked a pot. The floor was a tattered pelt laid on bare ground.
“You’re free to move about, you don’t need to stay cooped up in here.” Said the barbarian.
“But I am your prisoner.” Sherdana clarified.
“You’re safe” Kirbatal explained.
“I’m hungry.” She said despite the unfamiliar smell of foreign cooking that lingered in the air.
“There will be bread later after the women finish working the grain from your caravan.” Kirbatal offered as he reclined on a pile of old furs.
Sherdana remained standing, arms crossed defiantly. “Why do you live this way?”
“You may not consider it comfortable, but Aspalis provides all that we need.” In response to her dubious look he added, “Let me show you.”
As they walked through the camp she found no evidence to contradict the adequate generosity of Aspalis. Children ran about playing, very thin but apparently happy none the less. Men worked diligently binding sinew over wooden tools or chipping away at stone weapons. The women were busy grinding the grain and kneading the dough stolen from her caravan. There was no other food by what she could tell.
“Hatti is full of fruits and game, why do you the wild-landers depend on grain shipments from Hattusas?”
“We hunted the herds, but more often fell victim to the other tribes. Finally we were chased out of the hunting grounds altogether. We were starving and it was time to choose. Many suggested we abandon Aspalis and adopt Telepinu’s ways, but if we were not strong enough to claim the hunting grounds how could we hope to protect our farms from marauders?”
“So you rob caravans and steal what you need? High Priest Zidanta will give you grain if you ask.”
“We are hunters, the caravans are our pray. Besides, we would become dependant on Zidanta’s capricious philanthropy. Tribes that accept his grain caravans quickly find out they are not gifts, but shackles. If they do not do his filthy work he starves them until they submit.”
“Zidanta is not so cruel. Many tribes, like the Kasku accept the grain and they still thrive.”
The innocence and force of her arguments made him see city people as human for the first time. All he had known before was their unnatural greed and deviousness.
“The Kasku at one time faced the same choice; Kizzuwadna’s forceful argument swayed their council to accept Telepinu. In payment for this service Zidanta presented him with a copper sword, a weapon with no equal. Kizzuwadna has made the Kasku Zidanta’s personal army and in return Zidanta has provided them with copper weapons which they use to terrorize Hatti.”
a great yarn 
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