Chapter 22

Izmir’s sharp eyes caught Hazzas lurking at the far end of the corridor, surveying the unprecedented commotion within the Lion Palace.

A vein throbbed on his forehead. Hazzas was an old minister who had served his father, the King, and having followed him for several years, Izmir still treated him with the respect due to an elder. To be seen by an elder with his private quarters in such disarray left Izmir feeling a tinge of shame.

However, Hazzas approached with a broad smile, teasing, "My, my, the young are truly full of vitality!"

At the old general's words, the chaotic crowd in the hall realized that the master of the Lion Palace had been watching from the doorway for quite some time. Mura, along with all the handmaidens who had been reduced to a disheveled mess by Inanna’s struggle, knelt down. Only Inanna remained standing, her thin legs trembling with exhaustion, holding a candlestick with a posture that was both defensive and comical.

When Kashi stepped forward to seize her, she did not resist—whether from utter fatigue or a sudden sense of pragmatism. Yet, her frantic running had taken its toll; even though she had wrapped her lower body in a torn hem of her dress, a streak of blood slid down her calf, looking startling against her pale, slender leg, making the men present feel quite awkward.

Seeing her soil the carpet again, Mura was so incensed that she could barely speak. "You... you fool!"

Since Inanna had previously behaved well, Izmir found it hard to believe she would cause trouble without reason; General Hazzas thought the same. Furthermore, with the Queen’s temporary protection, Inanna’s life would be easy enough as long as she stayed quiet. The old man spoke in a kindly tone: "What is the matter with you? You are a grown woman now; if you lack experience, you should simply listen to Mura."

Seeing someone agree with her, Mura poured out her grievances. "General Hazzas is right. Isn't this how every woman goes through it? Yet she insists on running about."

With that, she snatched a bundle of cloth from a maid and barked at Inanna, "Come here! I shall teach you how to use this!"

The men leaned in to look. Inside the bundle were several short, finger-thick twigs stripped of their bark and some scraps of linen. Mura continued her nagging: "Just wrap the cloth around a twig and insert it. Isn't this how every woman manages?"

She reached out to grab Inanna. "Come here at once, and stop causing the Prince such trouble! If it weren't for your youth and ignorance, the mere act of staining the carpet would earn you a lashing!"

If any modern woman were to insert a twig wrapped in filthy, rough cloth into her most delicate parts, it would be a living nightmare. If she actually used such things, she would likely die of a gynecological infection in this primitive hole before ever finding a way home.

Inanna waved her arms, resisting Mura’s approach, nearly shrinking behind Kashi’s arm. As Mura scolded her, she bared her teeth, looking ready to bite the hand reaching for her.

Mura felt truly wronged. She had no desire to display such unseemly matters before the Prince, but this girl, picked up from who knows where, was like a little she-wolf, reducing her—a seasoned head lady-in-waiting—to such a sorry state.

As for the little she-wolf, she had now become docile; she released Kashi and crawled to the Prince’s feet, tugging pitifully at the hem of his robe to beg for mercy.

The Prince gave a light cough and turned to consult General Hazzas, who was clearly more experienced—the old man not only had a wife but also three concubines.

General Hazzas rubbed his beard sheepishly and stepped forward to pull Mura aside. "Now, Lady Mura, she is, in name at least, the Prince’s woman. Do speak to her kindly."

"I have tried both soft and hard approaches," Mura sighed, straightening her lopsided headdress, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. "If she were a commoner, she wouldn't even have cloth to use. Those Egyptian women simply stuff river reeds inside and be done with it!"

This remark caused great embarrassment. Prince Izmir was ignorant of such matters, and men like Hazzas and Kashi only cared for the charm and passion of women in bed; they had no idea how women lived when they were indisposed.

General Hazzas chuckled twice and lowered his voice to a tone of negotiation. "No wonder I always thought my own wife was so coarse in those parts! The Prince is still young, and having only recently experienced these things, he naturally wishes to enjoy himself. You should take proper care of Sukammum."

When Mura mentioned the river reeds, Inanna was terrified. The women of this ancient era were so wretched and possessed such twisted imaginations that they would stuff anything convenient into their bodies.

Although the scarcity of hygiene products was due to the high cost of cloth, such a lack of refinement made it no surprise that the ancients had such short lifespans and high maternal mortality rates. Fearing that Mura might produce something even more unimaginable to threaten her, she clung tightly to the Prince’s robe, forcing Izmir to pull at his waistline to avoid an embarrassing exposure.

Seeing Mura’s expression soften—presumably because Hazzas’s words had taken effect—Izmir thought of the clothes Inanna had been wearing when he first captured her. After a moment of consideration, he summoned an attendant: "Have Kashi take her to my private treasury and fetch two of Sukammum’s own red dresses. And also..."

He glanced at the rough scraps of cloth on the floor, as if explaining to Mura: "Sukammum is a foreigner; she is likely unaccustomed to these things. Kashi, bring some cotton cloth from the Harappa kingdom."

He then moved his foot, using the tip of his shoe to kick Inanna’s hand. "Let go!"

Inanna remembered that the Harappa cotton was a tribute the Prince had purchased in Phoenicia. While he held no concept of expense, seeing the slightly twisted look on Mura’s face brought Inanna a sudden sense of satisfaction, and she readily released the Prince’s robe.

Once freed, the Prince asked Hazzas, who was watching the spectacle from the side, "Did my father send you?"

Hazzas remembered his mission. "Yes, Prince. The King wishes for you to bathe and then meet him in the council chamber. He has urgent matters to discuss."

Izmir had intended to speak with his father in detail anyway, so Hazzas’s news was timely. Yet, the chaos in his private quarters made him realize why his mother never kept women in his palace—it was truly a wise move.

As he prepared to leave, Mura said with a stiff, resentful face, "Sukammum, the Prince treats you with such favor; you should be deeply grateful. Once your body is clean, remember to serve the Prince well in his bedchamber."

Izmir felt a headache coming on. He swept a cold gaze over the disheveled and pale Inanna and sighed, "Mura, wash her clean first."

Following this incident, Izmir arrived at the council chamber to find the King of the Hittites already waiting, though the King had clearly already heard the amusing story of what had just transpired in the Lion Palace from his informants.

Huwali was not angry; rather, he asked his son, who had arrived late, with a hint of pride and excitement: "Well? Women are not simple creatures, are they? You thought it was merely a matter of lifting a robe up and down? In truth, they are quite troublesome!"

Izmir, as was his habit, did not engage in such topics. Although he felt for the first time that his lecherous father’s words were not unfounded, his expression remained calm as he asked respectfully, "Father, is there an important matter for which you have summoned me?"

Dismissing his son’s cold deflection, Huwali straightened up, his demeanor turning serious. "Spies report that the boy from Memphis is openly purchasing wedding supplies and intends to marry that enchantress as his primary queen. Hmph, he is truly blinded by lust to marry a woman of unknown origin as a queen. Izmir, the preparations for this wedding will not be short. Think carefully: if you can snatch the bride during the Egyptian King’s wedding, Memphis will never be able to regain his honor for generations!"

Izmir thought of Carol, who had escaped his grasp and invited the wolf into the house, causing the Hittites to lose their coastal territories. He could not help but clench his fists. How could this golden-haired, blue-eyed, naive yet stubborn girl truly believe that a wedding built upon the flesh and blood of the Hittite people would lead to happiness?

Huwali studied his son’s expression, thinking that the boy’s competitive spirit had been ignited. Ambition was good for the young, but he must not lose his cool head because of it.

He continued, "If you succeed, it would be for the best. But Memphis was willing to attack our country for that enchantress; if you steal his bride, he will certainly not let it rest. Our country has already lost one battle. Although I have shielded you from impeachment by the council this time, this is a mistake that cannot be repeated. Next time, we must win!"

Izmir thought of nothing but victory, day and night. Whether it was the woman or the land, he intended to seize it all from Memphis.

He proposed his plan: "Our navy is weak and has suffered heavy losses. This time, I intend to enter Egypt by land through the Syrian desert, sneaking along the west bank of the Jordan River. I will coordinate with infantry and chariots; if we encounter pursuers, we will surely be able to strike them a crushing blow."

Huwali laughed. His son’s ideas were good, but ultimately still immature. "Izmir, you have forgotten our neighbor, Assyria. I have already sent envoys to Assyria to arrange a meeting with King Arwan in the Syrian desert on our border to discuss an alliance. You shall go under this guise as an envoy; it will make your entry into Egypt easier. If you encounter pursuers, you can unite with Assyria for a better chance of victory!"

Izmir listened, thinking the plan sound, but Arwan was truly unreliable. Although he had never met this extremely lecherous and lustful Assyrian king, he knew from the way Arwan had slaughtered all his brothers and sisters upon ascending the throne that he was no simple character.

Seeing his son’s hesitation, Huwali knew what he was thinking. "Hahaha, Izmir, you must think Arwan is a lecherous and brutal man? You are wrong. A king who enjoys women but does not fall because of them is a qualified ruler; a true hero is one who plays with women without making mistakes. Look at the late Egyptian King, Nebptah, who was poisoned on his bed—that proves my words are true!"

This was a scandal, but it could not be hidden from the eyes of such ambitious men. After the death of Isis and Memphis’s mother, King Nebptah had remarried the Nubian princess, Dai-li. However, the treacherous Dai-li had harbored evil intentions and fallen deeply in love with the young prince, and naturally dissatisfied with her elderly husband, she poisoned the late Egyptian King. Otherwise, Memphis would not have become a king at such a young age.

Seeing his father praise the young Assyrian king he had never met, Izmir felt a surge of eagerness, looking forward to meeting the young Assyrian ruler who was his own age and known throughout the Mesopotamia region for his cruelty and lust.

Meanwhile, in his opulent Assyrian palace, Arwan was listening to reports from his spies in Egypt.

Behind golden silk curtains, he raised his head from the soaring breasts of his favorite, Jomari, and with a fresh red cherry still in his mouth, asked muzzily: "What? A golden-haired, blue-eyed girl as beautiful as a lotus of the Nile?"

Jomari arched her back, skillfully swallowing his tumescent organ to his great comfort. Arwan hummed, "Where else would a woman be more skilled at serving a man than my Jomari!"

Jomari, whether pleased by Arwan’s technique or his flattery, giggled coquettishly.