Chapter 26 | part 2

It seemed to Eliana as though the whole of the city was crammed into the temple. The voices of hundreds mingled as one in prayer, rising to the vaulted ceiling like the swirling smoke of incense. She felt very much like the foreigner she was to these people. She did not understand their words, their customs, their prayers, their gods. Watching them alone from her throne, she felt as detached as a guest watching entertainments at a banquet.

Samsu waited outside the temple doors, adorned with every trapping of a king, impatient to get the ritual over and done with. He had seen his father do it every year of his childhood, and it had always made him cringe with embarrassment to see the mighty Hammurabi reduced to the level of an ordinary man.

The grey-haired high priest waited on the dais, wearing an ivory mask of Marduk and clutching the chief god's signature lightning bolt. For the purposes of the ceremony, he was Marduk – when Samsu spoke, the god would answer where all could hear.

A gong was sounded, the deafening metallic crash echoing around and around Esagila; huge double doors at the far end of the nave swung open to reveal Samsu, flanked by half a dozen lesser priests of Marduk, all wearing the traditional red robe of their order.

Samsu was the very image of kingly might. Standing a head taller and half a man broader than any of the priests, he was a giant amongst dwarves. He positively glittered in the torchlight – his yellow half-tunic was edged with gold, a matching headdress rose two feet above him, making him look even taller, and not one part of his person was left unjewelled. Eliana thought he looked like a raven dressed in peacock feathers – the lavish costume was ill-suited to the man she knew he was. In his right hand he held the golden sceptre of his reign, topped with a black diamond that drank the light; in his left he carried the orb.

He marched up the aisle with his glare fixed upon the high priest. Eliana was amused to see the man quail a little under his king's stare. She knew exactly how he felt – the difference was that this man was in no danger. He represented Marduk on earth; he was inviolable. Any crimes committed as a legitimate part of his duties were considered null.

Samsu stopped before the dais and squared up to the priest. The nervous man stepped down and approached his king, where he began to strip the sovereign of every symbol of rule, every marker of status.

First to go were the rings – each one was removed and dropped into the waiting hands of a lesser priest. Next his gold cuffs came off, followed by the chain of office that he wore about his neck. It took two priests to remove the weighty headdress, and a further two moved forward to take the orb and sceptre whilst another slipped the sandals from his feet.

Eliana almost giggled. Suddenly, with his clipped black hair all askew from having the crown removed, and his arms, head and feet bare, all his grand feathers had been stripped away and he resembled nothing so much as a plucked chicken.

She stifled it. Not one motion or sound she made would go unnoticed tonight, and nothing that was noticed would go unreported. Samsu was keeping a close eye on her to see how she was taking to queenship, to ensure her behaviour was what he expected of a consort.

Finally the moment that she had been waiting for arrived. The high priest stood directly before Samsu, his face completely concealed behind the carved ivory, only his watery eyes visible through the slits.

He slapped the king with all his might, drawing back his hand and releasing it with such strength that the crack of skin on skin echoed in every corner of the sacred space. Eliana smothered a smug smile of satisfaction as Samsu's head rocked back on his thick neck with the force of the impact.

The king got to his knees before Marduk and spread his arms wide, baring his chest. When he spoke, he hardly raised his voice, but it was powerful and clear enough for even the worshippers at the very back of the temple to hear every word. In his general's voice, he boomed, 'oh great and strong Marduk, chief of all the gods, I pray you, hear me and answer my plea. I submit myself to you wholly and beg your forgiveness. I have not sinned at all, O lord of the universe, and I have never neglected your heavenly might.'

Once again, Eliana fought to contain herself. If Samsu's actions since his conquest of Babylon did not constitute sin according to the laws of this martial and ruthless god, she dreaded to imagine what did.

Marduk, through the high priest, spoke: 'do not be afraid of what I have to say, my son, for I am pleased with all you do. I hear your prayers, extend your power and increase the greatness of your reign. Your empire will extend to the ends of the earth, and your son shall equal you in might and power.'

Samsu rose back to his feet and stood as the priests fussed around him, returning his raiment and jewellery, restoring him to the status of a king before Marduk, replacing everything but his headdress.

There was a sharp whip-crack as the priest slapped Samsu again to conclude the ritual. If the slap before had been hard, this was truly ferocious, but Samsu barely flinched, though his cheek reddened and showed each long individual finger mark.

Asag had explained this part of the ritual to Eliana – the priest hoped that the King would shed a tear, to express more complete submission to Marduk and deeper respect for the great god's power.

If the high priest thought that a mere slap would cause Samsu to shed a tear, he was greatly mistaken in the man's character, thought Eliana. She did not think that her husband was capable of forming tears.

As a final symbol of Marduk renewing and refreshing Samsu's power, two priests stepped forward to replace his headdress.

Eliana could not mistake the rage in his eyes as he stalked to his throne and sat heavily. Samsu was not a man used to humiliation by man or god. His fists were clenched on the arms of the chair throughout the rest of the ceremony.

She kept her face carefully blank and impassive, not even so much as wincing when he gripped her by the hand hard enough to make the bones crunch as he led her to the waiting horses at the end of it all.

Throughout the feast that followed to celebrate Marduk's continuing favour upon Babylon, its people and its king, Samsu drank hard and fast. Eliana eyed him worriedly as he drained bowl after bowl of wine and signalled for more. There was no cheer about him – he sat in silence for the most part, only giving monosyllabic answers when spoken to and venturing no conversation himself. He seemed to grow more detached as the evening went on; his eyes shifted suspiciously, and his paranoid gaze fell on everyone in turn.

She breathed a sigh of relief when he stood abruptly and turned to march from the room, retiring for the night. The relief died in her throat as a page boy brought the summons she was dreading.

Following the boy from the room, she tried to swallow her dread. Perhaps Samsu just wanted a soothing song on the lyre, or to talk over something that had been troubling him.

She knew she was wrong as soon as she entered his chamber. He stood in the centre of the room, as tall and unyielding as a monolith, glaring at her as she walked in.

Eliana gauged his mood immediately and went to her knees in a bow. In a good humour, he did not require it of her... this was clearly not one of those times. She breathed deeply, trying to slow the gallop of her heart.

'Get up,' snarled Samsu. 'Don't show me your false reverence. You'd have laughed at me just like everyone else today, if I wasn't watching.'

She sat back on her heels, not daring to speak in case she said the wrong thing.

'Well? Say something!' he slurred.

'I have nothing to say, Your Highness.'

'Well, that is a first. Perhaps you have finally learnt humility.'

'I am a mother and a queen – I have learnt dignity.'

'You only have what I give you. I choose to give you dignity.'

'And I thank you for it,' she replied through gritted teeth.

He stared at her for a moment. 'Get up on the bed.'

Doing as she was told, she settled back against the cushions, still not sure what he wanted of her tonight.

'You are the only one in this whole gods-forsaken world who speaks the truth, except perhaps for Ashan. There are so few I can trust to tell things as they are.'

'I hope I shall always be able to tell you the truth,' she said, carefully, a small pang of guilt plucking at her stomach as she thought of Ashan and their children.

'Then tell it to me now. I have given you everything – wealth, jewellery, status, children, even a crown. Do you love me?' he demanded.

Eliana laughed, taken aback. 'No, why would you think that?'

She could have bitten her tongue out as she saw Samsu's fury darken and overwhelm him. He stepped up to the bed and seized her by the throat with bruising force.

His face inches from hers, he hissed, 'how dare you laugh at me? Insolent, ungrateful piece of dung! You are only what I allow you to be – I have given you everything, and you repay me with nothing!'

Her eyes widened – she tried to choke out a reply, but his hand crushed her windpipe with such brutality that she could not draw breath. Pinpricks of light began to dance before her eyes.

'What do you have to say for yourself?' he barked, easing the pressure on her neck.

Drawing an unsteady breath, she whispered, 'I repay you with truth. If you desire false love and sycophancy, I can oblige.'

His fist landed on her cheekbone like a mallet against stone with shattering force, stunning her as pain exploded inside her head. The rings that he still wore tore at the soft flesh of her face and she was vaguely aware of a sticky trail of blood snaking its way down her cheek, dripping onto the rose-coloured silk of her gown.

'The truth,' growled Samsu. 'You like the truth?' He grabbed her hard between the legs, 'this is your truth. This is why you're here. The people love you, you have some good ideas, I'll concede that much, but without this,' he squeezed again, 'you're nothing. Without the two children that came from here, you'd still be chained to my wall – my plaything and my pet.' His breath reeked of wine, and he stumbled over his words. He breathed heavily as he glared down at her. 'You have been getting above yourself, karkittu. I made you queen, I can unmake you if you do you not please me. Now get on your hands and knees and please me!'

Her head still reeling from the blow, she turned herself onto shaking hands and knees, burying her face in the bed as Samsu ripped her gown opened and forced his way inside her. It had been almost a year since he had had her, and the first thrust was a stab of agonising white-hot pain she had almost forgotten. She balled her fists in the sheets and counted as he drove himself in and out with a madman's frenzy. He wound her hair around his hand and pulled, arching her back and burying himself so deep that she thought he would pierce her stomach with the violence of it.

When the ordeal was over, he pushed her onto the floor where she lay curled up in disgust, not daring to move for fear of another assault. 'Let that be a lesson,' he panted. 'Be grateful for what I give you, for I can reduce your status again in a heartbeat. You will learn to love me, or you will have to become a slave again until you do.'

A familiar tightness pricked the back of her throat. She would not let the tears flow; she bit the inside of her uninjured cheek to hold them back. Things had been so much better since the birth of the twins – perhaps she had been foolish for thinking they could stay that way. Samsu had been kinder lately, and now she understood it – he was trying to win her love.

Slowly, she struggled to her feet. 'I'll never love you,' she said, her voice simple and unemotional. 'You imprisoned me, took away my innocence, violated me, chained me, killed my sister and separated me from my father. All that – it's unforgiveable. You can take away all you have given me – my jewellery, my status, my dignity... even my children. But for all that you can take by force, you can never have my love – that is a gift that must be freely given.'

Samsu rose from the bed and stood over her, staring her down. 'Said your piece now, have you?'

'Yes.'

'Good,' another swing of his fist connected with her other cheek and sent her sprawling, hitting the cold tiles with a crack. 'Another outburst like that, and the children shall be taken out of your care and given to Susa.'

She whimpered, feeling her face begin to swell where he had struck it, and sick to think of Susa so much as touching the children.

He was drunk, she knew. This was not a man who took kindly to public humiliation, and so he repaid the favour in private, to make himself feel better. Her female parts burned and throbbed.

The depth of loathing she felt for him was no longer a surprise to her. The fact that he could still increase that loathing was a surprise. Each time she thought she couldn't possibly hate him any more than she already did, he managed to lower her opinion of him still further.

'Get out,' he sneered, leaving her to pick herself up from the floor and limp back to her apartments, feeling revulsion in every ache of her ill-used body.

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