Chapter Twelve

After parting ways with Master Labaru, Izmi’s journey through the Lebanese forest proceeded smoothly. The sacred relic was entrusted to Master Labaru by Izmi himself; he chose not to carry it back and risk ridicule. The box housing the relic was crafted from cedar wood felled by Luka. The cedars of the Lebanese forest grew so densely they blotted out the sky, posing a formidable obstacle to travelers. Yet, given the limited productivity of humankind at the time, their modest logging and usage could not fundamentally harm this vast woodland.

Thus, the Lebanese forest remained as dark as night even by day, teeming with countless wild beasts beyond reckoning. Prince Izmi and his troops fought off wolves, bears, wild boars, jackals, and other creatures along the way, remaining vigilant against venomous snake and insect bites. Inanna obediently followed close beside Luka, suffering no great harm; it felt more like a thrilling visit to a wild animal park, sampling many exotic game meats, though only the remnants.

A few wounded were carried on camels, and so the party finally reached the bustling coastal city of Phoenicia. After enduring mouthfuls of dust and countless miles, the men could at last lay down their arms. Upon General Hazaz’s order for a two-day rest, they joyfully grabbed their purses and rushed to the streets in search of women.

With the twenty or so men gone, Inanna breathed a sigh of relief. Though young and slender, she did not fit the ancient ideal of ample bosom and hips, yet after more than a month on the road as the sole woman in the group, she could sense some ill-intent lurking in certain gazes. However, since their leader was a handsome young man possessing a strong aura of self-restraint, the others had no choice but to suppress their desires bitterly.

The prince had ordered Luka to keep a close watch over her. Though this prevented Inanna from escaping, it was not without its benefits.

“General Hazaz,” the prince said, pointing toward the nearby Phoenician harbor, “go contact Casey and have the ship dock at the port closest to the market. Find some men to help carry the wounded aboard for medical treatment. I will go to the market to take a look.”

The prince did not specify who should accompany him, but Inanna noticed that only General Hazaz, Luka, a dozen or so camels and wounded remained, along with herself. She and Luka naturally followed the prince closely.

They now stood in Phoenicia, the smallest yet wealthiest nation along the eastern shores of the Great Green Sea. This land was a scatter of city-states, each a sovereign realm. Backed by the Lebanese mountains, it could not develop agriculture and thus relied entirely on maritime trade for survival. Handicrafts and commerce flourished exceptionally. Despite its small size, Phoenicia’s wealth commanded the envy and fear of neighboring states.

Inanna did not know where Assyria was and had heard that lands west of Tyre—now Europe—remained wild forests. She was vaguely aware of Babylon, but the manga “Tokyo Babylon” she had once secretly read at school was of little help now.

It was only upon arriving in Phoenicia that Inanna realized she had truly traveled back three thousand years.

At this time, Phoenicia still prospered along the eastern coast of the Great Green Sea. The Roman Empire, which would one day consider Phoenicia a major threat, had yet to emerge on the Eurasian continent. The Punic Wars were still a millennium away, and the famed general Hannibal was yet unborn.

The Roman Empire’s founding lay centuries in the future, so the land beneath Inanna’s feet bore at least three millennia of history. This was Tyre, Carthage’s greatest city, home to the world’s finest artisans and merchants from every corner of the globe. Tyre’s wealth inspired ancient poets to lavish it with extravagant praise. Though their words were flowery and vague, translated into modern terms, it simply meant Tyre was a city paved with gold.

Prince Izmi gathered them and cloaked themselves, then squeezed into the crowded market of Tyre. Vendors displayed glass vases from Egypt, gold and silver jewelry and metalwares from Assyria, exquisitely sharp bronze swords forged in Damascus, olives and sea fish from Minoan lands, metals such as copper, tin, and lead for smelting, and even complete ivory tusks and slaves as dark as coal, said to be brought from distant black lands overseas.

Though the market’s scale resembled a modest town fair in later times, three thousand years ago, when sailing technology was primitive, Phoenician footprints had already reached across Eurasia and Africa, spanning half the globe, laying the foundation for a dominant slave-holding empire in the near future.

Yet Prince Izmi’s gaze remained fixed ahead; he sought the root of Phoenicia’s prosperity. The name “Phoenicia” derived from the Greek for “land of crimson,” famed for its production of purple-red dye. Phoenicians forced slaves to dive for sea snails, extracting high-quality purple dye used to color cloth sold around the Great Green Sea. Such cloth was rare and reserved mostly for royalty.

All of Prince Izmi’s formal robes were gilded purple garments made in Tyre. Yet Bytado controlled the output of black iron and secret iron-smelting techniques, so in trade with Phoenicia, they were not at a disadvantage. The annual export of raw iron, approved by the Bytado king and weighing as much as five cattle, was fiercely competed for by merchants. The royal family monopolized iron weapon exports, using them as diplomatic tools rather than economic goods, which enhanced their prestige and served as deterrence.

The cloth trade occupied the market’s central square. The cedar-wood buildings had steps paved with rose-colored stone, and at the bottom, a plastered pool divided into sections of colored water emitted a heady fragrance that drifted far into the marketplace.

Two beautiful women, clad in sheer linen skirts, wrapped golden-purple cloth around their waists barely covering their modesty, cradled slender wine jars between their full bosoms. With a graceful twist of the waist, they poured the liquid into the pool.

As the wine flowed with a gentle “plop,” a rich aroma spread, captivating passersby with an intoxicating scene of beauty and fine drink.

Though advertising as we know it did not exist, Phoenician merchants had always been shrewd businessmen, knowing well that nothing attracted customers more than beauty and wine. These two ‘ambassadors’ performed their role with utmost dedication.

Noticing Prince Izmi and his group approaching, one of the women offered a wine vessel made of gold to the handsome prince, ignoring Luka and Inanna behind him as if they were invisible.

Inanna eyed the scantily clad woman, who seemed to be wearing nothing but a layer of “cling film.” Holding the cup out, her arms pressed tightly against her breasts, which looked as if they might burst free at any moment. The slow compression of the deep cleavage was even more profound than the wine pool itself.

Prince Izmi, handsome and experienced with bold women, had never encountered such blatant display. Yet his self-control was strong; he smiled gently but declined the cup. The woman did not take offense; she swayed her hips and walked away, throwing a disdainful glance at Inanna, deliberately thrusting out her proud chest.

Inanna bit her lip, recalling her pitiful undergarments and shrunken cups barely filled. She turned her head away.

Luka, faced with such a temptress kneeling before him, blushed deeply, unsure where to look. His humble origins left him unaccustomed to such sights.

The prince, understanding the situation, pointed to the pool. “Luka, if you wish, have a drink and enjoy yourself. Suqammumu, come with me.”

“Suqammumu” was the new name given to Inanna as a slave, meaning “silent” or “mute” in Sumerian and Akkadian. She bore no resentment toward the name; it was the prince’s prerogative, and she did not intend to carry it forever.

Her hope was to leave with all her possessions intact, toss her rags back in the prince’s face, and crown him with the title of a man with a beast’s heart.

Luka shook his head vigorously, refusing to be distracted even by the voluptuous woman before him. The prince smiled and gestured for him to enter together.

Inside, maids dressed in equally sheer linen with wrapped skirts awaited the honored guests. Wealthy merchants from afar held golden cups in the hall.

The hall, like the exterior, was adorned with cedar wood intricately carved with countless floral and vine patterns stretching from ceiling to floor. Embedded within this ocean of motifs were pearls, shells, tortoiseshell, coral, and other treasures from the sea. Golden branches extended along the sides, from whose tips hung golden cages burning fragrant incense.

The scent of myrrh was thick and bittersweet; Inanna found it overpowering and distinctly Western. Myrrh, which would later flourish in Arabia, had a pungent aroma that left a lasting impression. People from the Middle East often carried a trace of this scent with them.

Inanna could not help but sneeze, quickly covering her mouth and nose with her cloak to ease the irritation, ignoring the disdainful glances of the maids who thought her a rustic.

Prince Izmi and his companions appeared different from others: unmoved by the hall’s opulence, uninterested in the fine wines and delicacies. This caught the attention of those with keen eyes.

Several maids scattered flower petals soaked in fragrant oils upon a raised platform, while male slaves emerged from a rear doorway, displaying exquisite purple-red textiles to prospective buyers. These ranged from ordinary camel wool tapestries and Egyptian fine linen to newborn-soft Assyrian lambskin from Nineveh, cotton cloth woven in Harappa, feather silk from mysterious Eastern lands, and popular cylindrical skirts with tassels from the Mesopotamian region known as Loinkros.

Prince Izmi, standing at the back, showed little interest. As a prince, these were mere commodities beneath his feet; no matter how splendid one’s armor, it could not guarantee victory in battle.

As these extraordinary fabrics were presented, he watched Inanna’s expression closely. She showed no astonishment or desire, only curiosity and the simple wonder of a spectator. Yet these treasures were prized possessions that ordinary folk could never hope to touch, worshipped by the nobility.

Izmi’s heart sank. He again doubted how developed and prosperous Inanna’s homeland truly was, that such a slave had seen so much of the world.

And what means would be required to compel this mute slave to dedicate all her learning and knowledge to Bytado?

While he pondered, a man draped in purple-red cloth approached them. His dark brown hair curled to his neck, his thick beard framing a youthful but sharp face. His confident smile betrayed the shrewdness of a seasoned merchant, but his words carried a ruthless edge.

“Guests from afar,” the man declared, asserting his status as host, “what has left you so indifferent to this hall of luxury and not even tempted to taste our finest wines?”

He gestured toward the door. “That is my wine pool. The red is pomegranate wine from the Anatolian plateau, the crimson is grape wine from Egypt’s Sinai, the golden is mead brewed in Mitanni’s spring, the yellow is beer from Assyria, the black is date wine from Babylon, alongside sweet beer, Galiben wine, and Varil wine. What could make you refuse even a cup? No one in Tyre has ever declined my wine pool.”

Luka noticed the two tall black slaves standing behind the man, their black muscles gleaming like obsidian native to the plateau. He swallowed hard but looked to the prince’s face, clenching his fists, restraining himself from touching the dagger strapped to his waist.