If it hadn’t been for the constant ache of sadness reminding her of what she had lost, Susa could almost delight in what she had gained.

She lounged on sumptuous floor cushions with Eshnunna and Ani. A pleasant breeze stirred through the open shutters, a welcome relief from the warm day. After nearly three weeks in Babylon, Susa felt almost completely recovered from her illness and journey. She took a sip of sweet date wine from her brightly painted ceramic drinking bowl and glanced out through the window – the ladies’ tower commanded stunning view of the city’s great temple Esagila. The massive complex of golden sandstone dominated the skyline, pointing towards the heavens where Marduk, the Babylonian god dwelt.

Childish shrieks echoed around the chamber as the two boys fought and wrestled with each other, playing at soldiers. They had taken to each other from the first – both eager for some like company, thought Susa. She knew that Ashan had been lonely since being withdrawn from his friends when the war began. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He and Samsu were firm friends already, as were she and Eshnunna.

Susa watched her son with pride as he held his own in the fight. She winced as Samsu landed a hard strike on his opponent’s shin – Ashan yelled, ducking and blocking the next cut coming hot on the heels of the first. He twisted and sliced his own wooden dagger through the air, connecting with Samsu’s ribs with such force that the other boy screamed and dropped his dagger. He gave Ashan an accusing look before running to his sister, tears streaming down his face. He wrapped his arms around her neck and cried into her hair.

Gently disentangling him, Eshnunna pushed him away with a little smile. ‘There will be no-one for you to run to on the battlefield, little one – you must swallow down the pain and carry on fighting. Pain is temporary, it goes away; victory stays with you always.’

Samsu pushed his hair back out of his tear-stained face and nodded, scowling, going back to Ashan.

Eshnunna laughed as her brother picked up his wooden dagger again. ‘Your boy gives as good as he gets, Susa!’

‘Nazaru is teaching him well,’ smiled Susa. ‘He will be happy to instruct Samsu too, if you like. And any little ones you might have when the trial is resolved.’

A nervous look flickered across Eshnunna’s face. ‘I pray to Marduk it will be soon – it has been hours already. But I am sure Father will not do anything drastic – he knows I love him. It’s just an idle threat.’

After their marriage had been discovered, her husband had been taken captive by Hammurabi before the King marched off to war with Elam. There had been no time to deal with his wayward daughter’s lover before departing, not if they were to take the city unawares and unprepared. Now that everything there was settled and life was returning to normal in Babylon, he was the final loose end to tie up.

The trial had begun an hour after dawn, and now midday was creeping closer.

‘You’ll make a wonderful mother,’ said Susa, trying to distract the younger girl from her fears. ‘You’re so good with Samsu – he adores you.’

Eshnunna looked over at Samsu affectionately, ‘Marduk knows he has had little enough love from our mother. He was unplanned, I think. My parents thought that their family was complete: they had the princess to create a marriage alliance, the heir to the throne, and a spare son in case of disaster. More than six years had passed since my brother Nisitu’s birth – they didn’t expect or need any more children. Mother has never taken much interest in him; she prefers to focus her love on the elder princes – the children who matter.’

‘Poor boy,’ Susa said, with genuine pity for the little prince. Ashan had never had cause to doubt her affection, and it delighted her every time he ran to her with a new treasure he had found or piece of news to share. ‘So he looks to you as a mother?’

‘Yes – and he can be a handful. He’s a sweet child when we’re alone together, but he flits between shyness and terrible jealousy in company. I dread to think how he’ll be when I have my own children.’

‘I’ll be there – and perhaps having Ashan as a playmate will help him to be more independent. He won’t be allowed to stay with the women forever.’

‘No, Father says he’s for the army, eventually. I think it’ll suit him – he’s a clever boy, and I think he’ll be a strong one too.’ She twisted her blue-black curls into a rope over one shoulder, her slender fingers worrying at stray strands, full of nervous energy.

Susa reached over and put a hand on Eshnunna’s, ‘It’ll be alright,’ she said quietly. Both girls knew she wasn’t talking about Samsu.

The blushing bride had been barred from her husband’s trial, and she was not in high enough favour with her father to have any hope of begging him to change his mind. ‘I’m so scared for him,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve never known another like him – he makes me feel complete. When he holds me, the world feels harmonious and peaceful, and everything is still inside me. It’s so wonderful – I don’t know how to describe the feeling.’

‘You don’t have to.’ Susa stared into her drinking bowl. ‘I’ve felt it.’

Silence fell between them, with Eshnunna uncomfortably aware that her own love had cost Susa hers. Susa, for her part, never cast the stone of blame. She looked into the dregs of her wine, trying to conjure up Awan’s face. It pained her that she was already beginning to forget the small details – the way his voice sounded, the scent of his skin, the texture of his hair under her fingers.

The hush was broken by a knock at the door. An owlish steward entered. He bowed; Susa stifled a giggle as the sunlight reflected off his bald patch with a blinding flash. His tone was respectful, but unapologetic. ‘King Hammurabi requires your presence in the Hall of Destinies, my ladies.’

Eshnunna took Susa’s hand and gripped it hard as they stood and followed the steward, leaving the boys in Ani’s care.

The great double doors were no less imposing to Susa now than they had been the first time she had seen them. Eshnunna kept hold of her hand until the last possible instant, when the doors were thrown open.

‘Princess Eshnunna, daughter of Babylon,’ the herald cried.

Susa waited a moment, but her name did not follow. Eshnunna walked towards the dais pale-faced, on the very edge of composure, trying to hide her nerves. She did not look at her husband, but Susa did. He wore a frightened expression, looking tired and half-starved, and as though he had not seen daylight in several months. He had suffered for his love, she reflected, and would likely have more to suffer before the episode was concluded.

A light hand appeared on Susa’s elbow, and the steward guided her discreetly inside, leading her to stand with the observers. As she took her place, she noticed Nazaru stood beneath the dais, as still as calm water. The king would borrow her bodyguard from time to time, when he needed a show, or more than a show, of strength.

Hammurabi beckoned to his daughter, and she climbed the steps of the dais. She made to bow, but he stopped her. He turned her to face the court. ‘Is this the woman you took to wife?’ he demanded of the terrified man.

Looking pleadingly at Eshnunna, the priest nodded. Susa felt her pain – the girl was powerless to help him.

The King continued, ‘And you were aware of her identity?’

Another nod.

‘You admit, then, that you knowingly wed a daughter of Babylon – a woman of the royal blood, betrothed to another – and forsook your oath to the almighty Marduk?’

‘Yes,’ the man whispered, his voice low and trembling. The months of his imprisonment and hours of his trial had exhausted him. He had run out of excuses and justifications.

‘Then you admit your guilt. The penalty for your crimes is clear. When you wed the princess, you broke your sacred vows to Marduk and forfeited his protection. You seduced and despoiled a royal princess, and in marrying her, you stole the property of your king and sent this nation into war. Therefore, I have no choice – under the law, I condemn you to die as a thief and a rapist.’

‘No!’ Eshnunna screamed, falling to her knees at her father’s feet.

Susa closed her eyes with a grimace, forcing herself to stay in place. She could not run to comfort the girl. Not yet.

Hammurabi ignored his sobbing daughter. ‘You shall be thrown from the top of your former temple to your death, unless Marduk deigns to save you.’

He snapped his fingers, and the guards on either side of the condemned man seized him beneath the arms. He hung limp between them, like a man already dead.

‘You can’t!’ shrieked Eshnunna, scrambling up to run to her husband. Hammurabi nodded to Nazaru, who stepped forward and clamped one arm in a vice-like grip around the girl’s waist. She struggled with all her might, but it was like watching a spider thrash uselessly in the beak of a bird. The young bodyguard paid her no heed until the priest had been safely removed.

When he let her go, Eshnunna fell back to the ground beside her father. She gripped the hem of his tunic. ‘Father, I beg you – please, you can’t do this! He didn’t seduce me, he didn’t rape me, he didn’t steal me – I went willingly. I wanted him.’

Hammurabi turned cold eyes down on her, ‘Justice must be equal for all, Eshnunna, else it is no justice at all. Hundreds of men have died for your actions, lives were turned upside down, a whole kingdom had to be conquered and subjugated. He is just one more man that you sentenced to death with your foolishness. You are my property, mine to send where I will. You defied me. He defied me. You should be grateful that you were not on trial alongside him.’

‘I wish I had been!’ she cried.

Susa couldn’t let Eshnunna continue any longer – arguing with the King as all the observers of the trial looked on, fascinated. She moved up the steps of the dais, gently took Eshnunna under the elbow and pulled her up.

‘I beg your pardon, sire,’ she said. ‘She is overwrought. Please allow me to take her back to her chambers.’

He nodded stiffly. ‘You could learn from her, daughter. You cost Susa her own husband and everything she held dear, and still she shows you kindness and looks to save you from your own folly.’

Eshnunna clung to Susa, sobbing hard as she led her away.

*

When they reached the bottom of the ladies’ tower, Eshnunna wrenched free and ran up and out of sight.

‘Where are you going?’ Susa called after her.

‘To watch!’ came the reply.

Susa cursed softly and tore up the steps after her. She was panting when she reached Eshnunna’s rooms.

Eshnunna had snatched the rose quartz statue of Ishtar, Babylonian goddess of love, from its pedestal on the little altar in her bedchamber and set it on the window ledge. She knelt before it with the shutters open, giving a full view of Marduk’s temple, praying fervently to Ishtar to intercede with Marduk and save her husband. Susa made to close the shutters – it could not do Eshnunna any good to watch the sentence being carried out, and Susa had long since lost faith in the benevolence of the gods – but the girl slapped her hand away.

‘No!’ she snapped. ‘Ishtar will save him. She will send an eagle to carry him up to the heavens as Shamash did for Etana. I will watch.’

It’s not the same, Susa wanted to say. Etana had been a pious man in search of the divine plant that would give life to his son. Shamash, the god of justice, had sent him an eagle to help him find the plant. The eagle had carried them both up to the heavens where Ishtar gave the plant to Etana and he was able to have the son he longed for.

Etana had prayed long and hard for his miracle; he had been a good and godly man. The deities did not look kindly upon thieves and oathbreakers.

But even if she said these things, Susa was certain that Eshnunna would not listen. Instead, she knelt beside her and bowed her own head in prayer, directing her entreaties to Pinikar, her own mother goddess.

Pinikar had not intervened to save Awan; Susa doubted that she would care any more about this wayward priest of a foreign god, but still she prayed.

Before long, shadowy figures appeared near the top of Esagila: one strong and tall, and three others all melded together like some bizarre, lopsided animal. As she watched, they approached the edge. The lone shadow made a sharp gesture, slicing downwards through the air with his arm. The other shape shattered into three distinct pieces as the doomed man was cast over the side.

He tumbled grotesquely through the air, like wildfowl shot down mid-flight. With a gut-wrenching scream, he disappeared from view.

No eagle appeared.

Susa shivered, wondering if Awan had screamed like that in his last moments. She hoped not – she prayed the gods had granted him a quick death.

Eshnunna dissolved into heartbroken sobs. Susa shuffled in closer and put an arm around her, pulling her head onto her shoulder, letting her weep.

They remained there for hours. At dusk, a shadow darkened the doorway.

‘I did it for love of you, Eshnunna,’ came Hammurabi’s voice, soft and unconfrontational. ‘I would not see you spend your life bound to a disgraced priest who only sought your royal status.’

She did not raise her head, didn’t deign to answer him.

‘You will stop this now,’ he said, firmly. ‘There’s an end to the whole thing. I will find you a more appropriate husband when memories begin to fade.’

She pushed sweat-soaked hair from her face and stared at her father through swollen, red-rimmed eyes. ‘I hate you,’ she choked. ‘I’ll never marry again.’

‘You may be damaged goods, daughter, but you are still my property and you will marry where you are bid,’ he said, his voice acquiring a dangerous edge.

‘I’ll kill myself first,’ she swore.

‘So be it,’ he barked. ‘I see you are still unreasonable. Hear me: you will marry when and where I tell you, and be grateful for it. Susa – stay with her and make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.’

Susa nodded, not sure if he could even see her through the semi-darkness.

Hammurabi turned, slamming the door behind him with such force that Susa was afraid it would fall from its hinges.

Eshnunna fell into a fresh storm of weeping. After some time, Susa, stiff and sore from long hours on the floor, was able to manoeuvre her to her feet and guide her to the bed.

When word reached Susa’s rooms that she was to stay with Eshnunna, Ani brought food up for them both. Susa ate like one starved for a month; Eshnunna did not touch a morsel.

*

The days fell into a pattern. Eshnunna wept and prayed by turns. When she prayed, Susa prayed with her. When she wept, Susa tried to murmur words of comfort, reminding the girl that she too had lost a husband, but that the world would go on without him, and so would she. Samsu visited no less than twice a day, trying to entice his beloved sister from her rooms. Sometimes she would hold him as she cried, or ask him to join her prayers, but her constant tears frightened him and he could not concentrate long on his prayers. When he was afraid, he became frustrated and violent, trying to get a reaction by kicking his sister and pulling at her hair until Susa dragged him off and sent him away.

He always came back.

Hammurabi visited every day too – sometimes alone, sometimes with his queen. Between them, they coaxed, cajoled and threatened by turns, to no effect.

Still, Eshnunna did not eat. She began to waste away until Susa could count each rib and each lump of her spine.

After the third week, Hammurabi’s patience wore thin and snapped. He delivered an ultimatum: come out within the hour, or be bricked up inside for all eternity.

Susa was terrified for her – even tried forcibly dragging her from the rooms. Eshnunna would not go. ‘It’s an idle threat,’ she whispered. ‘He won’t do it.’

An idle threat. Eshnunna had said the same thing on the morning of the trial.

When the hour had elapsed, Hammurabi and his queen appeared at the door alongside Nazaru, Ashan, a stonemason and a cohort of guards, carrying bricks.

‘Have you made your decision, daughter?’ he asked.

She looked at him in silence, defiance written clear on her face.

‘So be it. Princess Susa, come out of there, unless you wish to be bricked in with her.’

Susa gave Eshnunna an anguished look. She did not doubt Hammurabi’s sincerity, but she could not just leave the girl here to die.

The King saw her hesitate and gestured to Nazaru. He stalked into the room and picked Susa up as easily as he lifted a sword. ‘I am sorry, my lady. I swore to protect you, I will not allow you to die.’

Susa did not struggle.

‘No! No, no!’ shrieked a high-pitched voice. Moments later, Samsu flew from the stairwell, making straight for Eshnunna’s door. A guard pounced, pinning his arms to his sides.

Hammurabi nodded, and the stonemason began his work.

Samsu fought and screamed. Ashan drew his little wooden dagger and struck the guard as hard as he could on the bare shin. ‘Don’t touch my brother!’ he shouted.

The man yelled and let go of Samsu, who was immediately snatched up by another guard, turning on Ashan with a raised fist.

‘No!’ Susa fell to her knees and snatched her son into her arms, holding him protectively.

Nazaru stepped between her and the guard, ‘You do not strike the royal family of Elam, lowborn maggot,’ he snarled.

‘Foreign scum,’ the man spat back.

Both men drew their daggers.

‘Enough!’ barked Hammurabi.

They lowered their blades. As he sheathed his, Nazaru took a long, hard look at the other guard’s face, as though memorising it for later.

The king and queen watched stoically as the room became a prison, minute by minute, brick by brick, waiting for their daughter to repent and come out, or beg them to stop. She never did. Susa’s last glimpse of her was her pale face – her stubborn expression a mirror image of her father’s, right down to the hint of fear in the eyes.

As the last brick was put into place, Hammurabi said, ‘It’s done, then.’

He took his queen’s arm and led her away, down the steps, out into the sunlight that Eshnunna would never feel again.

The guard holding Samsu let him go and turned to follow his sovereigns. The instant that Samsu was free, he threw himself at the wall over and over, screaming for his sister. Susa watched him, motionless with shock. It was done – Hammurabi and Eshnunna had both been immoveable in their resolve, and now Eshnunna was lost to them all. Her only friend in this place had been snatched away in the time it took to build a wall.

Samsu’s anguished cries tore at her heart. Ashan tried to pull him away, but Samsu gave the younger boy a hard shove and carried on pounding his little fists against the rough brick, trying to break through the wall.

Eshnunna’s voice came through the wall; muffled, but strong: ‘Samsu, sweetheart, stop that that now. You can’t break the wall, and even if the gods helped you to break it, Father would just build it again even stronger. Everything will be alright.’

‘No!’ he wailed. ‘I’ll get you out – let me help!’

‘Susa, are you still there?’ said Eshnunna.

‘Yes,’ she replied, trying to keep the emotional choke from her voice.

‘Hold him for me.’

Susa drew Samsu into her lap and leaned back against the wall. He was hot from the exertion and trauma; she smoothed the damp hair from his face as Eshnunna sang the lullaby she sang to him every night. Hiccoughing and shuddering, he turned his face into Susa as she rocked him gently. Eventually, his breathing slowed and became deep and even.

‘He’s asleep,’ she murmured. The singing stopped.

‘Look after him for me,’ came Eshnunna’s voice, quiet and sombre.

‘Always,’ replied Susa, standing with Samsu still in her arms and taking Ashan’s hand to lead him down the steps, back to the nursery.

*

Susa took Samsu up to the wall every day for the next week to give Eshnunna comfort. Still, the girl would not repent. Hammurabi had said openly that he would forgive his daughter and welcome her back into the bosom of the family if she would only show remorse for her actions and pledge to be an obedient daughter of Babylon henceforth.

She could not be moved. After the fifth day, Susa stopped trying.

Eshnunna was forbidden visitors. Ashan would stand guard at the stairwell as Susa and Samsu spoke to his sister through the wall. Every day her voice grew weaker.

On the eighth day, there was no reply.

Samsu was inconsolable, trying to break down the wall, beating his hands bloody and shredding his nails against it. When Susa tried to pull him away, to tell him that this was what his sister wanted, that she would be happier with the gods, Samsu hit her and clawed at her until she let him go.

She watched helplessly as he exhausted himself against the wall until he collapsed at the foot of it sobbing uncontrollably.

When he had cried himself to sleep, Susa carried him down to her rooms, bathed and soothed his bloodied fists, and put him into her bed.

She settled onto a floor cushion beside it, to be close at hand if he woke. She lay awake well into the night. As the first hints of dawn began to creep across the sky, she slipped into a numb, uneasy sleep.

When she woke, the room was flooded with sunlight and Samsu was gone. In his place, Ashan sat on the bed watching over her, his little wooden dagger drawn and lying across his lap.

She opened her arms, and he hopped down from the bed and snuggled in beside her. Inhaling his sweet, childish scent and feeling the warmth of his body, Susa was overcome with protectiveness – she could never allow him to throw away his life for some flight of fancy, as Eshnunna had. He was too precious for that. She could feel it: her heart had begun to harden. The joy of love was nothing against its power to destroy.