wilbursmith_warlock-第130部分

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nder　of　the　city…'to　save　such　a　prodigy　of　architecture　from　the　flames；　and　your　person　and　family　and　populace　from　the　sword'；　as　Trok　humorously　phrased　his　demand。　In　reply　Sargon；　sanguine　and　defiant　behind　his　walls；　sent　the　messenger's　decapitated　head　back　to　Trok。　The　preliminaries　having　been　dealt　with；　Trok　and　Naja　made　a　circuit　of　the　walls　to　allow　the　Babylonians　to　view　their　full　might　and　splendour。
　　
　　They　drove　the　golden　chariots；　Trok's　drawn　by　six　black　stallions；　Naja's　by　six　white。　Heseret　rode　beside　Naja；　glittering　with　jewels　and　wearing　the　golden　uraeus　on　her　high…piled　curls。　Behind　the　golden　chariots　marched　fifty　prisoners；　Babylonian　women　captured　from　the　outlying　towns　and　villages　between　the　two　rivers。　All　were　pregnant；　some　very　near　their　time。
　　
　　They　were　preceded　by　a　vanguard　of　five　hundred　chariots　and　followed　by　a　rearguard　of　another　five　hundred。　The　slow；　stately　circuit　of　the　city　took　all　that　day；　and　at　sunset　they　came　back　to　the　Blue　Gate。　Sargon　and　his　war　council　were　gathered　on　the　parapets　above　the　shining　gateway。
　　
　　Sargon　was　tall　and　thin；　with　a　shock　of　silver　hair。　In　his　youth　he　had　been　a　mighty　warrior　and　had　conquered　the　lands　as　far　north　as　the　Black　Sea　to　add　to　his　domains。　He　had　suffered　defeat　only　once　in　all　his　campaigns　and　that　had　been　at　the　hands　of　Pharaoh　Tamose；　the　father　of　Nefer　Seti。　Now　another　pair　of　Egyptians　stood　at　his　gates；　and　he　did　not　delude　himself　into　believing　that　these　would　be　as　merciful　as　the　first。
　　
　　To　confirm　him　in　this　belief；　Trok　had　the　pregnant　women　stripped　naked　and　marched　forward　one　at　a　time。　Then；　while　all　the　city　watched　their　swollen　bellies　were　slit　open；　the　unborn　infants　ripped　out　and　the　tiny　bodies　piled　on　the　threshold　of　the　Blue　Gate。
　　
　　'Add　these　to　your　army；　Sargon；'　Trok　bellowed　up　at　him。　'You　will　need　every　man　you　can　get。'
　　
　　It　had　been　a　long　and　exciting　day　for　Heseret；　and　she　retired　to　her　tent　with　all　her　slave　girls；　leaving　her　husband　and　Trok　to　pore　over　a　map　of　the　city　by　lamplight。　It　was　a　work　of　art；　drawn　on　a　finely　tanned　sheepskin；　the　walls；　roads　and　canals　drawn　to　scale；　each　of　the　main　buildings　depicted　in　coloured　detail。
　　
　　'How　came　this　into　your　possession？'　Naja　demanded。
　　
　　'Twelve　years　ago；　by　the　mand　of　King　Sargon；　I　surveyed　the　city　and　drew　this　map　with　my　own　hands；'　Ishtar　replied。　'No　other　could　have　achieved　such　accuracy　and　beauty。'
　　
　　'If　he　missioned　it；　why　did　you　not　deliver　it　to　Sargon？'
　　
　　'I　did。'　Ishtar　nodded。　'I　delivered　the　inferior　draft　to　him；　while　secretly　I　kept　the　fair　copy　you　see　before　you。　I　knew　that　one　day　someone　would　pay　me　more　handsomely　than　Sargon　ever　did。'
　　
　　For　another　hour　they　studied　the　map；　muttering　a　ment　now　and　then；　but　for　the　most　part　silent　and　absorbed。　As　fighting　generals　with　a　professional　eye　for　the　salient　features　of　a　battlefield；　they　were　able　to　admire　the　depth　and　strength　of　the　walls；　towers　and　redoubts　that　had　been　built　up　layer　upon　layer　over　the　centuries。
　　
　　At　last　Trok　stood　back　from　the　table。　'There　is　no　weakness　that　I　can　divine；　magician。　You　were　right　the　first　time。　It　will　take　three　years　of　hard　work　to　break　through　those　walls。　You　will　have　to　do　better　than　this　to　earn　your　three　lakhs。'
　　
　　'The　water；'　whispered　Ishtar。　'Look　to　the　water。'
　　
　　'I　have　looked　to　the　water。'　Naja　smiled　at　him；　but　it　was　a　serpent's　smile；　cold　and　thin…lipped。　'There　are　canals　supplying　every　quarter　of　the　city；　enough　water　to　grow　Sargon's　six　terraces　of　gardens　that。　reach　up　into　the　sky；　and　to　water　and　feed　the　city　for　a　hundred　years。'
　　
　　'Pharaoh　is　all…seeing；　all…wise。'　Ishtar　bowed　to　him；　'but　where　does　the　water　e　from？'
　　
　　'From　two　mighty　rivers。　After　the　Nile　itself；　the　mightiest　rivers　in　the　world。　A　supply　of　water　that　has　not　failed　in　this　millennium。'
　　
　　'But　where　does　the　water　enter　the　city？　How　does　it　pass　through；　under　or　over　those　walls？'　Ishtar　insisted；　and　Naja　and　Trok　exchanged　a　look　of　dawning　prehension。
　　
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　　Half　a　mile　north　of　Babylon；　outside　the　city　walls；　on　the　east　bank　of　the　Euphrates；　at　a　point　where　the　flood　broadened　and　ran　sluggishly；　stood　the　temple　of　Ninurta；　the　lion…headed　winged　god　of　the　Euphrates。　It　was　built　on　stone　piers　that　extended　out　into　the　river。　The　multiple　images　of　the　god　were　engraved　on　a　frieze　that　ran　around　all　four　outer　walls。　In　the　Akkadian　language；　chiselled　into　the　stone　lintel　over　the　entrance；　was　a　warning　to　all　who　sought　to　invade　the　sanctuary；　calling　down　the　wrath　of　the　god　upon　them。
　　
　　Ishtar　the　Mede　worked　a　charm　on　the　threshold　to　nullify　the　curse；　slitting　the　throats　of　two　captives　and　splashing　their　blood　on　the　portals。　Once　the　way　was　cleared　Trok；　with　twenty　troopers　at　his　back；　strode　through　into　the　temple　courtyard　where　all　the　purple…robed　priests　of　Ninurta　were　gathered。　They　were　chanting　and　gesticulating；　waving　their　arms　towards　the　intruder；　splashing　water　from　the　Euphrates　in　his　path；　invoking　Ninurta　to　build　up　an　invisible　wall　of　magical　power　to　turn　Trok　back。
　　
　　Trok　strode　through　the　wall　without　a　check　and　killed　the　high　priest　with　a　single　thrust　through　the　old　man's　throat。　Wailing　at　such　sacrilege；　the　other　priests　prostrated　themselves　before　him。
　　
　　Trok　sheathed　his　sword　and　nodded　to　the　captain；　who　manded　the　guard。　'Kill　them　all。　Make　certain　no　one　escapes。'
　　
　　The　work　was　done　swiftly；　and　when　the　courtyard　was　littered　with　purple…clad　bodies　Trok　manded；　'Do　not　throw　them　into　the　river。　We　do　not　want　the　city　guards　to　see　them　float　past　and　guess　what　we　are　about。'
　　
　　Then　he　turned　to　watch　Ishtar　who；　once　all　the　priests　had　been　disposed　of；　had　entered　the　courtyard　to　work　another　charm　to　counteract　the　baleful　influence　of　the　god　they　had　invoked。　At　the　four　corners　he　burned　bundles　of　herbs；　which　emitted　a　thick；　greasy　smoke　that　was　repugnant　to　Ninurta　and；　as　Trok　remarked　jovially；　to　all　gods　and　lesser　mortals　equally。　Once　Ishtar　had　pleted　the　purification；　he　led　the　way　into　the　holy　places　of　the　temple；　and　Trok　and　his　troopers　followed　him；　with　blood…caked　blades　bared。
　　
　　Their　cleated　sandals　rang　hollowly　in　the　gloomy　recesses　of　the　high；　cavernous　hall；　and　even　Trok　felt　a　religious　chill　as　they　approached　the　image　of　the　god　on　his　plinth。　The　lion's　head　snarled　silently　and　the　wings　of　stone　were　spread　wide。　Ishtar　declaimed　another　lengthy　prayer　to　the　god　to　placate　him；　then　led　Trok　into　the　narrow　space　between　the　rear　wall　and　the　idol's　back。　Here　he　pointed　out　a　heavily　grilled　gate　built　into　the　body　of　Ninurta。　Trok　seized　the　bars　of　the　grille；　and　shook　them　with　all　his　bear…like　strength。　They　did　not　move。
　　
　　'There　is　an　easier　way；　all…wise　Pharaoh；'　Ishtar　suggested　sweetly。　'The　key　will　be　on　the　body　of　the　high　priest。'
　　
　　'Fetch　it！'　Trok　snapped　at　the　captain　of　his　guard；　who　ran。　When　he　returned　there　was　blood　on　his　hands；　but　he　carried　a　bunch　of　heavy　keys；　some　of　them　as　long　as　his　forearm。　Trok　tried　two　in　the　lock　on　the　grille；　and　the　second　turned　the　ancient　mechanism。　The　gate　swung　open　on　creaking　hinges。
　　
　　Trok　peered　down　a　descending　spiral　staircase　into　darkness。　The　air　ing　up　the　deep　shaft　was　cold　and　dank；　and　he　heard　the　sound　of　running　water　far　below。
　　
　　'Bring　torches！'　he　ordered；　and　the　captain　sent　four　of　his　troopers　to　take　down　the　burning　torches　from　their　brackets。　With　a　torch　held　above　his　head；　Trok　started　down　the　narrow；　unprotected　stairwell。　He　went　gingerly；　for　the　treads　of　the　stone　steps　were　slimy　and　slippery。　The　sound　of　running　water　grew　louder　as　he　went　down。
　　
　　Ishtar　followed　him　closely。　'This　temple　and　the　tunnels　beneath　it　were　built　almost　five　hundred　years　ago；'　he　told　Trok。　Now　there　was　the　gleam　of　water　below　them；　and　the　s