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Head
slave.
    “So, Egyptian!” the commander said between
mouthfuls. “You are ambassador and friend of Great Rah-may-seeyu. You
are rich.”
    “I’m his servant, not his friend.” Semerket
scooped some more stew into his bread. All the soldiers’ eyes were hard
upon him.
    “Is long way to Babylon,” the commander
said, smiling. “Many Isin traitors hide behind rocks. I send men with
you tomorrow. Protection for you. In Babylon you must go to my friend,
General Kidin. Head of all Elamite forces. Much help to you!”
    “Kidin,” Semerket murmured, noting the name.
    The commander then said something to his
soldiers, smirking. His men laughed with him, and turned to regard
Semerket with enigmatic expressions. The slave went around the circle
of soldiers, wiping their hands on a cloth. When he reached Semerket he
whispered, “Beware, sir. He tells his men that you are not destined to
reach Babylon.”
    Semerket felt a rush of paralyzing fear
surge through his body. These barbarians planned to murder him for the
gold they imagined he carried, no doubt to make up for their lack of
swag in Mari! He cast about feverishly in his mind for a plan. He did
not know the countryside, or even the layout of the city. Semerket’s
eyes instinctively found those of the Dark Head slave at the far end of
the shed; when their eyes met, there was understanding between them.
    Semerket thrust his legs forward, stretching
luxuriantly. Solemnly he thanked the soldiers for sharing their food
with him. Then he yawned, feigning great fatigue, saying that he would
find accommodations at the ziggurat of Bel-Marduk, even though it might
be deserted. Would the escort promised by the commander be ready to
leave at an early hour?
    The Elamites nodded vigorously. Yes, they
were quite sure they could be ready by then. Semerket noticed the
surreptitious glances the men exchanged.
    Semerket rose to his feet, inclining his
head in thanks. As he started to the doorway, he turned, as though
seized by an incidental afterthought. “You know,” he said, “I was
thinking that I’ll need an interpreter. My Babylonian, as you can tell,
is very poor. Will you sell me this slave of yours?” He pointed to the
fettered man at the hearth. “I’ll give you three — no, five — gold
pieces for him. Egyptian gold.” By this, he meant the gold was worth
more to them than the debased pieces found in Babylon since their
invasion. He fished out the five glinting rings from his belt and saw
the sudden hunger in the soldiers’ eyes. “Do this, and I’ll be sure to
praise you to your king Kutir.”
    The commander spoke again in Elamite to his
men, who readily enough agreed to part with the slave. The slave was no
further use to them, and, in any case, they were eager to rejoin the
bulk of their army in retreat —
    “I mean ‘in retrenchment,’ ” the commander
said quickly.
    Semerket nodded graciously.
    They brought the slave forward and struck
the chains from his ankles. Semerket made cheerful farewells to the
Elamite soldiers, promising to see them again at first light. The two
men left the kitchens rapidly and went into the dark of Mari’s streets.
    When they were out of earshot, Semerket
murmured to the slave in Egyptian, “Do you know the city? Can you get
us out of here now without being seen?”
    The slave nodded. “The walls to the east
have been destroyed. We’ll slip out there, and continue on to the
river. They won’t think to look for us if we go in that direction. When
they find us missing, they’ll go down the southern route first.”
    It was a good plan, and Semerket willingly
agreed to it. “What are you called?” he asked.
    “Marduk.”
    “Like the god?”
    The slave nodded.
    Semerket considered the name a lucky omen.
    MANY HOURS LATER, just as the
sky became light, Semerket and Marduk reached a small town of
reed-dwellers, perched on a wide estuary of the Euphrates. The
villagers greeted Marduk lustily, and he hurried forward to