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down in a smooth arc, burying it into the shoulder of one of the
raiders. The man s mouth opened in a scream before he fell to the
ground. Itamun kicked another off and paused to catch his breath,
but Hantilis could see that was a mistake. Another of the Assyrians
was climbing over the other side.
Automatically, Hantilis nocked an arrow on his bow and
aimed. In his mind s eye, it wasn t this battle alongside the
Egyptians. He was back in his village. Yutis was about to fall to an
Assyrian blade. This time, it would be different. He would save
him. Yet even as he saw it in his mind, he knew it wasn t the truth.
It wasn t Yutis below him, but an Egyptian prince. One who had
taken him from all he knew to use him as a hostage against his own
people.
Hantilis grew still as he struggled with himself. If the prince
died, there would be confusion. The Egyptians would likely still
win the battle, but they d have to return to Egypt quickly. The
funeral rites for a royal person would require it. They wouldn t
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have time to look for a lost captive.
Down below, everything seemed to move slowly as though he
had all the time in the world to make his decision. Itamun turned
and saw the raider. He brought his sword up, catching his
attacker s blade to block it, but the momentum of the other man
was too much for him and slammed his body back against the side
of the chariot. He was twisting as he kept turning his blade to block
the other, his face a grimace of effort. The prince s eyes flicked
past the raider s shoulder as they fought, just a brief glance. Likely,
he was looking for other attackers. Instead his eyes happened to
fall onto Hantilis himself, then opened widely in shock.
Hantilis felt numb as he relaxed the bowstring and lowered his
weapon. His eyes never left the prince s. Confusion followed by
pain filled the younger man s eyes. Even this far away, he could
see the betrayal clearly.
Suddenly, the chariot driver was there, burying a javelin deeply
in the raider s back. It might not have been an immediately fatal
wound, but it caused the man to stiffen in pain and he lost control
of his sword arm. Itamun refocused on his attacker as he shoved
the man away with a kick, then plunged his sword deeply into his
chest.
The prince took a quick look around, then turned his eyes up
the mountain without raising his head. As his eyes met Hantilis s
again, the Hittite felt a chill down to his soul. That boyish
vulnerability he d seen before in the young man s growing
attachment to him was gone. The look held nothing but promises
of violence.
* * *
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The battle didn t last much longer. The raiders were both
outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Rather than slaughter them all
on the battlefield as Hantilis had expected, the majority were taken
captive. The men were tied on their knees, lined up before the
gates of their city as the prince paced behind them. There looked to
be around two hundred of them left.
He called something out in the Assyrian tongue that caused
several of the prisoners to flinch, though others simply looked
resigned. It wasn t a language Hantilis knew well, but he was able
to catch words here and there. Dawn and twilight and kill were the
ones he was most sure of.
There were people gathered on the walls to look out. Women
and children, mostly, but a few older men as well. Most of the
women were crying. Several screamed at the prince s words. Two
or three appeared to faint. The old men appeared unmoved,
however.
The prince called out a question to them. A number of the
women were begging now. Four of the old men turned to one
another to discuss something quietly, before one shouted back to
the prince.
Itamun bowed his head for a moment, his eyes closed. As
Hantilis watched, he wondered if anyone else could see the burden
on the young prince s shoulders. Other men thirsted for battle, yet
for all the skill the prince had at it he seemed to loathe it.
When Itamun raised his head again, he drew his sword and
approached the nearest of the prisoners. The man threw himself
forward, kicking and crawling across the ground, screaming
something out over and over again. It wasn t a word Hantilis
recognized, but by the desperate sobs from one of the women on
the wall he could guess it was a name.
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Two soldiers stepped forward to grab the Assyrian by his
shoulders and force him to his knees again, holding him in place as
he continued to struggle. Hantilis saw Itamun s lips move, but he
was no longer speaking for the benefit of everyone assembled. The
words were meant only for the man before him, too quiet to be
heard from a distance. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]