The Moon That Fell from Heaven
By N.L. Holmes
Publication Date: September 26th, 2023
Publisher: Red Adept Publishing
Page Length: 307 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
Ehli-nikkalu, eldest daughter of the Hittite emperor, is married to a mere vassal of her father's. But despite her status, her foreignness and inability to produce an heir drive a wedge between her and the court that surrounds her. When her secretary is mysteriously murdered while carrying the emperor a message that would indict the loyalty of his vassal, Ehli-nikkalu adopts the dead man’s orphaned children out of a guilty sense of responsibility.
A young cousin she has never met becomes a pretender to the throne and mobilizes roving armies of the poor and dispossessed, which causes the priority of her loyalties to become even more suspect. However, Ehli-nikkalu discovers a terrible secret that could destabilize the present regime if the pretender ever learns of it.
With the help of a kindly scribe, her brave young ward, and an embittered former soldier trapped in debt and self-doubt, Ehli-nikkalu sets out to save the kingdom and prove herself to her father. And along the way, she learns something about love.
Excerpt
From somewhere on the other side of the tents came a racket of hooves and rattling wheels. Voices were raised in greeting, laughter, and excited conversation. She wondered what was happening. It sounded far too jolly to signal the arrival of rescuers.
A brief while later, an adolescent-sounding voice called out, “Where’s the queen?” and a small, slim, good-looking youth with wildly disheveled hair strode toward her from around the rock. He was dressed in what had once been fine clothes of rich, expensive colors but which now showed severe signs of wear, and their last trip into the river to be beaten clean had clearly been some time in the past. “Are you the queen?” he asked cheerfully.
She drew herself up and nodded with dignity. “Who inquires?”
The young man made a flourishing bow and said, “Utri-sharrumma son of Ammishtamru.”
Then, when Ehli-nikkalu remained sitting, he prodded, “Aren’t you going to bow to me now?”
The queen stared at him in confusion. “Who are you?”
He spread his hands as if to present himself for her inspection. “I am the king of Ugarit.”
Ehli-nikkalu froze. The little man must be moonstruck. She said carefully, “Excuse me, but the king of Ugarit is Niqmaddu son of Ibi-ranu. My husband.”
“Wrong, my dear lady and cousin. Niqmaddu is the false king of Ugarit. I am the real king.” He climbed up on the rock beside Ehli-nikkalu and, taking in her look of astonishment, threw back his head and laughed. “I’m the son of Taduhepa of Amurru, the wife of Ammishtamru, whom he had cruelly put to death. My grandmother is your aunt Gasshulawiya.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of her eccentric young relative. She smiled hesitantly and said, “Hello, my cousin. I don’t think I quite understand...”
“No, because it’s unjust and incomprehensible. Let me summarize by saying that despite having been my father’s heir, I was demoted with my mother, and Ibi-ranu took my place in the succession. Of course it was all very open-minded. I was four years old. They gave me the choice: either I could remain in Ugarit with my father—my big, scary, bearded father, his face bursting with anger—and rule. Or I could crawl away with my dear, comforting little mama and give up my chance to be king. Guess which choice I made. But, well, they did ask me.” Despite his over-bright smile, he was clearly deeply angry, rotten with anger.
“What are you doing here, with the Umman-manda?”
“Planning my revolution.” He grinned. “I can say this to you because you have no idea where we are and can’t send anybody back here to kill me.” Utri-sharrumma scratched his head at length and with a ferocity that indicated he had lice. She drew a little away. “You can tell my nephew the false king that I’ll be seeing him—with an army at my back.”
Ehli-nikkalu sat silent, not sure what to think. Internecine struggles were familiar to her dynasty, the gods knew. Her grandfather had taken the throne from his nephew, too, unleashing a generation of civil war that still dogged her father. She wondered if the strange, dirty youth would make a better king than Niqmaddu. Ehli-nikkalu had to admit, she didn’t even know what kind of king Niqmaddu made. She could testify that he was a dreadful husband and not much of a human being, but perhaps his governance was effective. “So you’re using the Umman-manda as your army?”
“That’s the plan. They need a leader, someone to legitimate them. I need swords. So far, most of our supporters have been in the north. But that’s not to say that I have none in the city. There are more people than you might think who found the persecution of my mother to be highly distasteful.”
She had heard about uprisings in the area around Apsuna. Mysterious sabotages of dams and bridges. People killed or seized on the roads. “Was it you who ordered my kidnapping?” she asked.
“Ordered? Hmmm, too strong a word. Let’s say recognized the value of. It takes a lot to feed a revolution. You’re worth a great deal of food, cousin.” He gave her a horse trader’s look that was somehow too evaluating and too intimate to be courteous, then he laughed uproariously, a shrill, cawing laugh.
Ehli-nikkalu found Utri-sharrumma disturbing. She eyed him surreptitiously. He was a small, wiry man, scarecely out of boyhood, with glittering gold-brown eyes and a reddish beard. His fine features were almost femininely perfect.
She wanted him to go away, but she said blandly, “How is my aunt?”
“Not happy with me, of course. Somewhat brokenhearted. She gave me the best upbringing she could, and I love her for it. But she does believe in law and order. Curious, for a woman whose father stole a kingdom, isn’t it?”
“It was the Lady Shaushga who wanted my grandfather to become king of Hatti Land,” Ehli-nikkalu said, feeling obliged to defend him.
“And no doubt she wants me to be the king of Ugarit,” the little man concluded cheerfully. Utri-sharrumma slid off the rock an bounced to his feet. He seemed to see Amaya for the first time. “Who’s this?”
“My lady-in-waiting,” the queen said uneasily. She didn’t like the way the boy stared into a woman’s face.
“How would you like to be a queen, little beauty?” He pinched the girl’s cheek between his grubby fingers.
Amaya shrank back against the queen, her eyes flashing with anger and alarm, and Ehli-nikkalu felt protective fury rise within her.
She said in a voice scarcely polite, “Don’t touch her. She's under my protection.”
Her cousin’s face grew sharp, like that of a fox in ambush, and his grin was dangerous. “I wouldn’t antagonize me, if I were you.”
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N.L. Holmes
N.L. Holmes is the pen name of a professional archaeologist who received her doctorate from Bryn Mawr College. She has excavated in Greece and in Israel and taught ancient history and humanities at the university level for many years. She has always had a passion for books, and in childhood, she and her cousin used to write stories for fun.
These days she lives in France with her husband, two cats, geese, and chickens, where she gardens, weaves, dances, and plays the violin
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