Her head was spinning, but she gripped the side of the chariot determinedly and waved to the people lining the streets of Nippur.

She had lost a great deal of blood during the birth, and was still paler than usual. She tired easily and had dizzy spells. Mari assured her it would ease after a time. Taking part in the procession through the city was not optional though, so she pasted a smile to her face and gritted her teeth at every jolt and rut in the street.

They rode in Samsu's great war chariot, drawn by a matched team of four roan horses, their red coats flaming in the sun. He held the reins in one hand, and cradled Eshu in the other, his thin lips curled into a smile, black eyes flashing with pleasure at the cheers of the populace.

Eshu, born in silence, was by far the quieter of the twins. Nisala had been left behind with Mari, Sarri and Kisuri. Her twins were easily as small as Kisuri had been at birth, and Eliana couldn't help but worry that they would be as frail. Thus far, neither of them seemed to have Kisuri's breathing problems – they appeared to be as strong and healthy as Sarri. Still, every sneeze set sparks of anxiety smouldering in her mind.

Mari had just smiled indulgently when she expressed her fears. 'Every new mother feels this way about her baby,' she said.

Eliana's tiered gown was a perfect match for Samsu's tunic – bright crimson edged with gold. Her curls tumbled freely down her back, a wreath of red roses and yellow sunflowers woven into her hair as a sign of her fertility – a woman so blessed by Ninlil that she had brought forth two babies at once. Eshu, sleeping quietly in the crook of Samsu's arm, was swaddled in a blanket of red shot with gold to match his parents.

Heralds marched before them, clearing their path; armed guards surrounded them, and they were followed by a vast retinue of officials, priests and scholars – a calculated display of Samsu's wealth and influence.

He had been worried about the possibility of trouble in the city; despite his marriage to Eliana, a favoured daughter of Nippur, the people still loathed him as an oppressive conqueror, and he knew it. In a moment of inspiration, Eliana had suggested dispensing free wine and bread prior to the procession. With their bellies full and their cups overflowing, the crowds were too merry to protest.

They processed to Ekur, the house of the mountain where Eliana and Samsu had been married. As King of the Pantheon, Enlil had had the right to confer the overall kingship of Sumeria on whomsoever he chose – for generations, kings had come to Nippur to carve their names into the bricks of Enlil's temple.

Samsu had been no exception – he had carved his name on the ziggurat on the very day that he claimed Nippur. Today, he would carve Eshu's name beneath his own, recognising the boy and sealing his place in the line of succession.

Ashan swore that he was happy to be displaced, and even happier that it should be his own son to do it, but Eliana could not help but feel a little tug of guilt that it moved him a step further from the throne. She did not say it aloud, but she was certain that Ashan would be a far better ruler than Samsu – he had a greater understanding of people, and a greater capacity for empathy and friendship. He would not have won the city as effectively as Samsu had, but he would certainly govern it better.

He was somewhere around, mingled in amongst the other armed guards, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble in the crowds. It was a fine line to tread: giving the people enough wine to make them merry, but not so much that they grew disorderly.

They drew up outside the temple gates, where Samsu handed the reins to a slave and stepped from the chariot; Eliana climbed down gingerly after him, not wanting to risk a dizzy spell. Not now, with so many eyes upon her. She followed Samsu through the arch and into the forecourt. To her great horror, the mudbrick table was laden with grain and vegetables as before, but alongside it were chained dozens of animals, and six half-starved and desperate-looking men.

She felt sick, and swayed a little on her feet. Sacrifices.

A hand appeared under her elbow, steadying her. Trying to focus her vision again, she looked up at its owner. Asag. She gave him a grateful nod and went to stand beside Samsu at the altar, where the priest was readying himself as the guests arranged themselves about the courtyard.

She glanced around as they waited, searching for her father's face in the assembly. He must be among the retinue that had followed them, but she could not see him. It would do her so much good to speak to him again, to embrace him, to tell him what she had named her daughter. She knew it would please him.

The priest cleared his throat.

The Babylonian naming ritual was strange to her. In Nippur, they made a simple offering to Enlil and begged his blessing for the child. Whether it was because they were foreigners, or because the child was a prince, Eliana was not sure, but the ceremony was long and complex, and her aches and pains increased steadily under the hot sun as the minutes dragged into hours.

Beginning with a lengthy invocation, the priest was in his element. Prayers followed, with the Babylonians reciting the responses on cue as the Nippurites shifted uncomfortably, not knowing the correct words.

From there, the priest set light to a copper bowl of sacred oil atop the altar; a sweet fragrance, like frankincense, but stronger, filled the courtyard. Taking a pinch of powder from a leather pouch at his waist, the priest tossed it into the flames. A great cloud of acrid purple smoke billowed from the bowl as strange words were chanted over it.

Smothering the flame, the priest dipped his fingers into the oil – Eliana gasped, but the man seemed to feel no pain. He moved to where Samsu was holding Eshu, anointing the boy's forehead with the oil.

'Great Marduk, we call upon you to protect Eshu, your son; to guide him, to raise him up to be a great and powerful ruler whose accomplishments will surpass even his earthly father's. Help him, great Marduk, to be strong as the wind, wise as the stars, long-lived as the sun, fierce as a lion and constant as a mountain. Let him expand his empire to the ends of the earth. We etch his name upon your house, and offer you rich sacrifices in poor exchange for your generous goodwill.'

The forecourt was overwhelmed with noise as the sacrifices began; screams of pain and terror saturated the air, and the heavy stench of blood mingled with the perfume of the sacred oils and the flowers in Eliana's hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch as animal and human gore ran together. Swaying again, she focused her mind on remaining steady.

The screams dwindled to silence. Eliana opened her eyes.

Corpses were heaped beside the sacrificial table. His companions all dead, only one man remained on his feet, mouth open in a silent scream, eyes wide with terror as he stared Ereshkigal, goddess of the underword, directly in the face.

With Eshu still in his arms, Samsu approached the man, his blade drawn.

Every muscle in her body went rigid – it sickened her, that her son must be exposed to murder and death at just one week old. It was Babylonian custom, she was told. A prince must kill his first man in infancy, to earn the great god's respect.

She said a silent prayer to Enlil that he might forgive her son for his part in the ceremony, all unknowing and helpless, and closed her eyes again as Samsu touched the flat of the blade to Eshu's head before plunging the point into the stomach of the chained prisoner, who doubled forward with a strangled cry and swiftly expired upon the flagstones at his prince's feet.

Eliana wondered what the man had done to warrant such a fate, and prayed that Ereshkigal would treat him with kindness in her realm.

Samsu held the bloodied blade above Eshu's head, allowing a single dark drop to fall onto the baby's face, before moving to the wall upon which were carved the names of kings of centuries past. Using the gory dagger, he carved the boy's name in blood and stone.

The gods would recognise Eshu as rightful ruler of Sumeria, when his time came.

By the time the rituals were concluded, every part of Eliana's body ached. She longed for the comfort of her bed – an oasis of cool calm when the curtains were drawn and Utu shut out.

Beckoning to Eliana, Samsu made his way back out of the forecourt and into the city. The people had assembled outside, and he raised his free hand to acknowledge the cheers for the child in his arm. The cheers grew louder when Eliana appeared behind him, a vision of beauty, despite her delicacy.

A puppy, excited by the noise and myriad smells, careened out of the crowd, gambolling around her feet. She laughed in delight as it tumbled over, before leaping to its feet and running off.

Trying the same trick for Samsu, the puppy brushed against his feet. Feeling something, he looked down. With a vehement expression of disgust, he struck out with his foot, sending the creature flying away with a yelp. It landed in a shaken heap, before struggling to its feet and limping away. Eliana could have cried – no innocent pleasure was safe from his whims.

He climbed back into the chariot and took the reins, and she stepped carefully up behind him, trying to find a handhold.

As she adjusted her grip, he flicked the reins – the chariot lurched forward sharply. Eliana was jerked off-balance and tumbled backwards, landing in the dust with a bruising thump, feeling a little like the poor puppy. The crowd gasped, and two men rushed forward to help her to her feet.

She stood, trembling with the shock, but laughing outwardly, telling the men not to worry and thanking them for their consideration as she dusted herself off.

Samsu would notice, eventually, but she wouldn't injure her dignity more by chasing after him. Her head was reeling, so she took slow, cautious steps as she followed the chariot, talking to the people along the way, blessing the children, greeting old friends. There were smiles on every face, and good wishes on everyone's lips – people reached out their hands to touch her as she passed, calling out for her attention. One woman even showered her with rose petals as she passed.

Through the heat and press of bodies, through the jollity and the festivities, Eliana noticed a lone child crouched in the shade of a wall.

It was a little boy, gaunt, almost skeletal, clothed in a half-tunic that barely covered his decency. He was curled up, wrapped in his own misery, oblivious to the merriment surrounding him.

Eliana murmured to the man next to her; he handed her a chunk of his bread, and cleared a path through the crowd for her. She made her way through and crouched beside the child.

'Hello,' she smiled, kindly. 'What's your name?'

The boy looked up nervously with wide eyes, not sure she was speaking to him. When he saw her gentle expression, his trepidation vanished. 'Kenu, miss.'

'How old are you, Kenu?'

'Seven summers.'

'So big!' she grinned. 'Are you hungry?'

He nodded eagerly. She handed him the bread – he tore at it, barely even chewing. It was gone in under a minute. She watched him with pity in her heart.

'Do you know who I am, Kenu?'

He shook his head, then thought hard. 'A princess?'

'I am a wife of the prince,' she allowed. 'But my father is Ensi of this city – if you go to the civic hall on a normal day, you should find him there. You ask for the Ensi, and tell them Eliana sent you. He'll make sure you have enough food.'

The boy stared at her as though she might be some demon sent to tease him.

She smiled reassuringly, 'what name will you give them?'

'Eliana,' he whispered.

She placed a hand on his hand and ruffled his hair. 'Good boy.'

A voice behind her barked, 'Eliana!'

Standing slowly, she turned around to see Samsu waiting for her, his face a picture of fury. He strode forward and seized her by the arm, 'how dare you sneak off like that? I've had half the palace guard off looking for you. Talking to filthy beggars – you'll catch some disease.'

He spoke loudly, she glanced back over her shoulder to see Kenu staring after her, a stricken look on his face. 'Please, sir – I didn't "sneak off", I fell when the chariot moved off. By the time I got back to my feet, you were too far ahead.'

Lifting her back into the chariot, he growled, 'well hold on this time!'

Word of her good deed spread like wildfire as they made their way back up the packed street, travelling faster than the chariot. The people shouted out to her: 'rubutu Eliana! Ibti Eliana!' – divine queen, beloved, they called her. She was their hope – if she raised her son to be as compassionate as she was, then perhaps their own sons and daughters would have a better life. She had always been a great favourite with those who knew her and her father, but she was beginning to win the love of the whole populace.

Mari would have adored this, she thought, a little sadly. The noise and bustle of the streets, where she was most at home.

Suddenly, she remembered that she had a favour to ask of Samsu. Now seemed the best time – he was in as good a mood as Eliana had ever seen him.

'Sir, might I ask something of you?'

'That depends what it is,' he said, suspiciously.

'Nothing much, just another maid to help out in the nursery. With four little ones now all under the age of three, and my current maid about to have one of her own, we have our hands full.'

'Of course, of course. Take two – one for each of our children.'

'Thank you, sir,' she smiled graciously as they came back through the north gate of the palace, shutting out the city behind them.

As they climbed down from the chariot, a steward hurried towards Samsu. 'A messenger arrived in your absence, my prince. He claims to have an urgent communication from Babylon.'

Samsu sighed and handed Eshu to Eliana. 'Return to your apartments.' He strode off after the steward, towards the audience chamber.

Never had a newborn felt so heavy as Eliana trudged back to her rooms. Eshu's face was still smeared with the blood of the sacrifice – she couldn't wait to wash him off and change her finery for something simple. She hoped that Mari could cope alone if she went to lie down for an hour or two.

Her heart sank as she stepped through the door. There, sat in the biggest chair in the room, was Susa. Ani stood at her back, constant as a shadow. With a sickening lurch, Eliana focused on the bundle in Susa's arms – Nisala.