Hostage Princess

Part 7 - the Prince

Wrists bound, eyes burning, face flushed with barely controlled rage, Malku stood before his father as the trial drew to a close.

Hammurabi sat upon the dais in the seat of judgement, gazing down his long nose, regarding his eldest son coolly. Queen Eresai sat to his right, her face as pale as the white mourning silk gown she still wore for Nisitu.

Though the Queen had never shown her any warmth, Susa could not help but feel sorry for her. This was not a torment to be wished upon anyone. One month since the fatal hunt, the funeral rites were complete, her middle son was entombed, and now her firstborn son stood before her on trial for his own life.

The Queen shifted her hands. Susa couldn’t help but notice the red crescent moon marks left by her long, elegant fingernails in the translucent skin of her wrist. Now frail and thin, the flesh seemed to have fallen from the older woman’s bones through the agonies of the past weeks.

Susa had joined her in prayer before the trial began, imploring the great god Marduk to reveal Malku’s innocence. She had prayed as earnestly as the Queen – her own future would hinge on the verdict as much as Malku’s. If the elder prince was sentenced to death, where would that leave her? There would be no suitable Babylonian heir for her to marry. The only remaining prince was of an age with her little son – she could not be expected to marry him. The idea was laughable.

She dared to hope that she might be permitted to return to Elam with her little family – Nazaru included, if he wished it. The great, hulking youth had sworn an oath to protect her, but that oath had been sworn to a dead man. Who could chastise him if he chose to remain at the Babylonian court? He seemed happy with his new station here – Susa saw little of him these days. Having bested every Babylonian who dared to challenge him, he had earned a fearsome reputation in their months here. The whole court knew him as a man to be feared and respected. Even the King seemed to stand a little in awe of him, and made it plain that he held the young man in the highest regard.

Now, Nazaru faced Malku across the courtroom, the young prince’s chief accuser. There was no compassion in his stare as he faced Malku’s impotent fury.

‘Answer me, Father!’ Malku shouted up at the dais. ‘I demand to know how you could believe this foreign devil over me.’

 ‘In this courtroom, I am not your father,’ Hammurabi stood, his voice resounding from every tile. ‘I am bound by the sacred trust placed in me by Almighty Marduk to judge every man equally. However painful it is to me, I must judge my own son as I would judge anybody else’s. All men are equal before the law.

‘As to the evidence against you, it is manifold. We have heard from witnesses –’

‘Who must have been bribed or coerced by this brute!’

Nazaru cocked an eyebrow in what Susa recognised as amusement. She could see he was pleased with the epithet.

‘Silence!’

‘But they could not have witnessed anything!’ cried Malku, his voice rising in pitch to match his desperation. ‘There was nothing to see!’

‘SILENCE! You are on trial here, and will not speak unless invited to do so unless you wish to be removed from this room and tried in your absence.’

Malku lapsed into furious silence. Even at this distance, Susa could see he was shaking. She pitied him, despite his monstrous crime.

Hammurabi resumed his awful recitation: ‘You were seen running from Nazaru as though from a pack of hounds who had your scent. And the arrow withdrawn from your brother’s cold flesh was fletched with your own household colours.’