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The Bronze Dagger (Ancient Elements) (Volume 1)

By Marie Sontag

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Chapter 1
In the tenth year of the reign of Hammurabi, King of Babylon (1780 BC)


"You! What are you doing behind our Bakery Shop? Shoo. Leave at once!” A bushy-haired boy, who looked about Samsuluna’s age, took a threatening step toward Sam.
Twelve-year-old Samsuluna tried to stand but couldn't find his walking stick. Scrambling to his knees, he bumped into a large clay jar next to him. The jar tottered but refused to fall.
"Please," Sam almost whispered as he eyed a bag of bread slung over the boy's shoulder. "Could you spare a small piece of bread?” Sam tried to remember the last time he had eaten. It had taken him all night to walk from the nearby Zagros foothills to the city of Susa. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.
"Ack! A beggar, eh? By the gods!” The boy wagged a finger at Sam. "You had better leave before my parents see you. They might have you arrested!"
In the dim light of the early morning, Sam tried to peer more closely into the boy's large brown eyes. “I’m not a beggar,” Sam said. He found his stick, stood up and limped closer to the lad. "A cheetah attacked my sheep last night, and I came to the city to find my uncle. Surely, you could spare a small morsel of bread.”
The tightness in the bakery boy’s face slackened. The boy removed the bread bag from his shoulder and started to withdraw a loaf when they heard muffled chirps behind the tall pottery jar on Sam’s left.
"Gilgamesh, is that you?" the bushy-haired boy called out. The boys peered around the jar. There, on its side, lay a small brown and white bird.
Sam bent down to take a closer look. "I think its wing is broken."
"Gilgamesh, what happened to you?” The bakery boy crouched down and stroked the small bird’s beak.
"When one of my sheep fell into a hole and broke her leg, I was able to fix it," Sam offered. "If we take Gilgamesh inside, I might be able to help."
The bakery boy nodded at Sam and then gently scooped up the injured bird, leading Sam through a side door of the Bakery Shop.
"My parents don’t approve of pets," the bakery boy said. He carefully laid the bird on a low wooden table. "I found Gilgamesh near the marshes several weeks ago. A fox was raiding his nest when I came along and scared the animal away. Gilgamesh couldn’t fly, so I brought him home and took care of him. By the way, I’m Enlil."
Sam pulled out a bronze knife from within his tunic. Enlil took a step back.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’m just going to put some medicine on Gilgamesh’s wing.” Sam withdrew a brownish-green nut from his leather pouch, cut a hole in it, and spread a green substance from it onto the bird’s wing. He then limped outside and dug around in the weeds. He returned a minute later with an insect that he gently placed into Gilgamesh’s beak.
“That might make him feel a little better,” Sam said when he finished. “Enlil, I’m glad to meet you and Gilgamesh. My name is Samsuluna. You can call me Sam.”
“Thanks for taking care of Gilgamesh,” Enlil replied. The bakery boy removed a round loaf from his cotton sack and motioned for Sam to sit down on a nearby mat. Enlil tore off a large chunk and offered it to Sam as the boys sat across from each other at a low wooden table.
“So, Sam,” Enlil started, “you were attacked by a cheetah last night?”
Sam finished chewing the bread in his mouth and then answered. "Yes. My sheep scattered, and I walked all night to reach the city. Since my parents are dead, I must now find my uncle.” Sam avoided Enlil's eyes, finished off his bread, and then glanced around the tiny room.
"This used to be my older brother's bedroom," Enlil explained. "He got married last year and moved to Babylon.”
Sam felt his chin begin to tremble. He stared down at his now empty hands. “Do you miss your brother?” Sam finally asked.
“Yes, I miss him terribly,” Enlil admitted. “I come into his room whenever I feel lonely, and think about all the good times we had together. My parents never come in here. They say it will bring bad luck if they do, and then something bad might happen to Lurs. That’s my brother, Lurs. He serves in one of King Hammurabi’s top battalions in Babylon. Now that Lurs is gone, I have twice the chores I used to have.”
Enlil’s eyes suddenly widened. "May the gods have mercy! I'm late for my deliveries! Sam, stay here and rest if you'd like. My parents won’t know you’re here if you’re quiet. I have to deliver these loaves to the Grog Shop. And thanks for taking care of Gilgamesh.” Enlil moved toward the door. "I’ll return after my errands and then we can talk some more."
Sam brushed the remaining breadcrumbs closer to Gilgamesh. He then stretched out on a sleeping mat, but it was hard to sleep after the night he had, watching his older brother wrestle the cheetah that attacked them. Like letters carved into clay tablets, the scene now remained etched in his mind. Yasmah left Sam alone to watch the sheep. That night the brothers planned to run away from their landlord and search for their uncle. Yasmah went back to the landlord’s house to find the bronze daggers the landlord took from them. The daggers were a parting gift to Sam and Yasmah before their uncle moved to Tyre.
Sam heard a rustling in the bushes, so he threw a rock in hopes of scaring whatever it was away. Then, when a cheetah snarled, he froze. The small cheetah suddenly leapt out and landed on one of Sam’s favorite lambs. Without thinking, Sam beat back the cheetah with his staff. The cheetah turned to face Sam. It snarled once more, bared its teeth, and then pounced on him.
“Sam!” he heard someone shout. Yasmah had returned! His brother dove into the cheetah with a dagger and then stepped back. The wounded cat now turned on Yasmah. In the flickering firelight, Sam only saw the back of the cheetah’s head and Yasmah’s occasional lunges with the knife. Locked in a macabre dance, they tumbled for a few moments. Then it ended. The cheetah lay dead, blood trickling from its neck. Sam hurried over to where Yasmah laid, blood oozing from a gash in his side. The blood-soaked stains on his tattered tunic showed where the cheetah had ripped into the flesh of Yasmah’s chest and arms. His breathing came hard and fast.
Sam whipped off his cloak and pressed it against the gaping wound in Yasmah’s side. Sam’s eyes widened and locked onto Yasmah’s.
“Sam,” Yasmah gasped for air. “I don’t think I have much time. Listen carefully.”
“Yasmah, don’t talk like that!” Sam’s voice cracked. “I am good at fixing wounds.” Tears mixed with dirt flowed down his checks.
Yasmah gripped Sam’s arm. “Listen, little brother,” he said through clenched teeth. “I went to Ninkas’ house to steal back our daggers, but I could only find one.” Yasmah held the red-stained dagger up for Sam to see. “May it bring you luck. Take it and find Uncle Zim. He is all you have now.”
“No! Don’t say that!” Sam grabbed Yasmah by the chin as he leaned over him. “We will go to Uncle Zim together. You’ll be fine! I’ll take care of you.”
Yasmah shook his head. “Reach inside my tunic,” he commanded.
Sam reached inside and pulled out a bag of jewels.
“I couldn’t find the other dagger, but these jewels were nearby, so I took them instead. The jewels will buy you food and passage to Tyre. Fate has decreed it. Go now, leave me.” Yasmah’s eyes squeezed shut in pain.
“No, brother!” Sam sobbed.
Yasmah never moved or spoke again.
Sam, still asleep, moaned and turned onto his side. He then dreamed one of his recurring nightmares. He saw himself floating down the Tigris River on a beautiful sunny day. Then, suddenly, the skies grew dark and he found himself struggling to stay afloat on the open seas. Waves crashed over him, throwing him out into the icy waters. As he went down for the last time, he felt the same paralyzing fear that always gripped him when he thought about never having a real family to call his own.
By the time Sam awoke, the Mesopotamian sun had risen to the middle of the early autumn sky. Its warm rays filled the room, filtered through the linen cloth covering the window. Sam rose and checked on Gilgamesh. The bird now hopped around the tabletop, pecking at the breadcrumbs.
Enlil emerged from behind a curtain on the other side of the room, balancing a cup of tea in each hand. "I thought I would let you sleep,” he said. Enlil placed the cups on the low table and sat down on a mat. "You looked as if you needed to rest. Now that you’re up, however, perhaps you’ll join me in a cup of barley tea."
Sam sat down and gratefully sipped from his cup.
"So, where in Susa does your uncle live?" Enlil asked.
"I, I am not sure." Sam looked at Enlil with a blank stare and then wrapped his hands around his warm cup. Sam didn’t know yet how much of his story he wanted to reveal. Even with Enlil’s kindness, Sam wasn’t sure if he could be trusted.
"What does your uncle do for a living?” Enlil cocked his head to one side.
"He’s a bronzeworker." Sam hesitated. “Actually, he doesn't exactly live here in Susa."
Enlil's dark brown eyebrows pinched together. “And your parents? You said they’re both dead?”
Sam ignored Enlil’s question about his parents. "The truth is, my uncle actually lives in Tyre.”
Enlil shook his head. “I’m confused. I thought you said that after a cheetah attacked your sheep last night, you came to the city to find your uncle. If your parents are dead and your uncle lives in Tyre, whose sheep were you watching?”
Sam didn’t want to tell Enlil about his wicked landlord, so he continued to talk about his uncle. "I didn’t really say my uncle lives here in Susa. What I meant was, I walked all night from the foothills of the Zagros Mountains so that I could start my search for my uncle here in Susa.” Sam took a quick sip of tea. "I had hoped to find a caravan here in Susa that could get me to Tyre."
Enlil’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Sam a little more suspiciously. "And how did you plan to pay for passage to Tyre? That’s more than a month’s journey west."
Sam stared at his tea for a moment, swirling the liquid around with the cup between his hands. He had lost so much already. Slowly, he raised his head and looked into Enlil's doe-like eyes. "Can I trust you, Enlil?"
Enlil straightened up and leaned closer. "Yes," he replied.
"To tell you the truth,” Sam spoke so softly that Enlil leaned over even more closely. "To tell you the truth," Sam began again, "the sheep belonged to our landlord. My father pledged my brother and me to him for a year of service to pay off our family’s debts. My mother died while we were away and the landlord didn’t even let us go home for her funeral. My older brother died last night trying to save me from the cheetah, so I ran away.” Sam broke off, gulped the rest of his tea and then placed his empty cup between them.
Enlil stared at Sam, waiting to hear more.
Sam slowly inhaled and then continued. "Before my brother died, he gave me these.” Sam reached inside his tunic, withdrew a pouch from around his neck, and then emptied its contents onto the table. The facets of an emerald, diamond and ruby glinted in the sun in front of them.
Enlil let out a low whistle. "I should say, any one of those jewels could pay your way to Tyre and back again, several times!"
"Do you know of any caravans leaving for Tyre?" Sam asked. Carefully, he put the jewels back into his pouch.
"The gods must be with you!" Enlil exclaimed. "When I delivered the bread to the Grog Shop this morning, I heard that Negrel, a caravan driver, leaves tomorrow for Phoenicia. He spends every evening in the pub. You could meet him tonight and make your arrangements."
Sam nodded. "Yes, perhaps the gods are with me.” He fingered the bronze dagger hidden under his cloak, and recalled Yasmah's words. May it bring you luck.

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