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Overview
During a time when men think the stars are little children of the moon, thirteen-year-old Zim-ri is sold into slavery by his uncaring, debt-ridden father. After he is taken from his home, Zim walks in line with the other captives to the noble city of Ur, where he will learn his fate.
Along the way, an old woman from his village stumbles in the line ahead of him. Zim rushes to Mara's side and promises the guards he will help her on the journey. As the two quickly bond, Mara teaches Zim how to see the world differently, deal with his fear of demons, and celebrate his talents. When Zim and the group finally arrive in the ancient city, Zim does his best to fit in while he and his ox work in the shadow of the great ziggurat where illness, sandstorms, and the unfamiliar laws make existence a challenge. More adventures wait outside Ur's walls, including robbers and a treasure "but Zim longs for just one thing: a family who loves him unconditionally.
In this compelling young adult tale, a teen sold into slavery must build a new life for himself, thwart evil villains, and save a life "all while searching for the kind of happiness and acceptance he has always wanted.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781491728727 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 04/01/2014 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 528 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
| Age Range: | 9 - 12 Years |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
The Ox-Boy of Ur
A Trilogy of Ancient Sumer
By Rose Shaw
iUniverse LLC
Copyright © 2014 Rose ShawAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2871-0
CHAPTER 1
A Sudden Farewell
* * *
Long, long ago, men thought the stars were the little children of the moon. Those men were a black-headed people, and they lived in a hot, dry land. Two great rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates, watered their land, and the lives of all were bound in one way or another to the rivers.
Zim-ri, a well-made boy of 13 or so summers, stood in the shallows of the Euphrates with his ox Tu-gar and poured water over the animal's black and tan back. The boy's dark eyes were sad as he thought about how this river had changed his life. Last winter, the Euphrates had poured through a weak place in the levee on lands his father farmed. The water had caused much damage.
The law of the black-headed people required that his father restore the levee and repay his neighbors for their losses. This his father had done, and Zim-ri had worked hard in the heavy mud to help him. But because work alone had not been enough to pay the debt, today Zim-ri washed Tu-gar for the last time. The ox was to be sold to help cover the obligation.
Tu-gar was more than a beast of burden to Zim-ri. The boy's life was a hard one of work and obedience, and his fondness for the animal had made that hard work bearable. Losing Tu-gar would leave the boy with an aching heart.
"Do not worry," Zim-ri told the animal. "Maybe your new master will let me visit you. I will tell him you love yellow root." He scooped up another bitumen-lined basket of warm, brown water and tipped it over the flank of the beast. "Perhaps there will be other oxen, and you will be part of a team. You would like that, would you not?"
The god of the sun was just rising in a cloudless sky, and Zim-ri was sweating in Lord Utu's fiery glare. His kilt was dripping wet too, but the boy could not bring himself to end the ox's bath. He was dunking the basket into the water yet again when he heard his brother calling him. Zim-ri squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to control his feelings. He did not want his brother to see his sorrow and mock him.
"Yes, Sagada, I am coming!" Zim-ri swung up on the ox's back and held the empty basket in his lap. He urged the animal forward with a movement of his body, and the beast and the boy stepped out of the Euphrates and onto the land. There were no reeds here, for they had long ago been harvested for mats, baskets, and bedding. He could easily see his brother on the path from the village.
Sagada was perhaps 8 or 10 summers older than Zim-ri. He had straight, black hair, black eyes, and very white teeth. Sagada always acted as though his younger brother was not as handsome as he was, but in truth, Zim-ri looked just like his older brother except that Zim-ri's black hair was curly.
Sagada was regarded as a man of the village. He and Zim-ri's father had many friends in the settlement, but Sagada made sure Zim-ri never felt welcome to join them when the men gathered. It seemed to Zim-ri that no matter how hard he worked, or how obedient he was, or how polite he tried to be, neither his brother nor father cared as much about him as they did about each other.
Zim-ri made it a practice to avoid his big brother anyway. Sagada was not only unkind to him, but he mistreated Tu-gar.
"They are ready for that old beast, if you have finished weeping over him," said Sagada scornfully as the boy and ox reached him on the path.
His words were very close to the mark, so Zim-ri said nothing.
"You had better hope the animal brings a good price, Little Brother."
There was something in the way Sagada had spoken that caused a little sliver of fear to slice into his sadness. "What do you mean?" asked Zim-ri.
"We will see," said his brother. "Ama wants to speak to you." Sagada reached over and gave the ox's ear a twist. "Can you not make him move faster?"
Tu-gar swung his head from side to side and Zim-ri leaned forward to settle him. Soon, the ox would no longer have to endure Sagada's little cruelties; again, Zim-ri said nothing to his brother. It was hopeless anyway, for there was a distance between the brothers, as wide as the great Euphrates, and the younger boy could not cross it. He would rather be with Tu-gar than Sagada, and he was losing Tu-gar.
As they neared the date palm grove between the river and the village, dar birds twittered little warnings to one another and flew up from the ground into the palms. At the base of the trees, Zim-ri noticed a patch of dusty green leaves and white flowers that marked yellow root. He slid off Tu-gar's back and slipped his digging stick from the waist of his kilt.
"Here, now, Little Brother, we have no time for that!" scolded Sagada.
Zim-ri dug quickly and freed a skinny root from the sandy, brown soil. "I am already done, Sagada, and no time has been lost."
The younger boy was correct because the ox had not even stopped walking. Zim-ri pitched the yellow root into his basket and swung up again onto Tu-gar's broad back. The village clearing was now in view, and Zim-ri felt a prickle of uneasiness. In the dusty center of the village, there were strangers with his neighbors, standing in Lord Utu's uncomfortable brightness.
Before Zim-ri could ask his brother any questions, Sagada spoke. "I will take the animal. You run to Ama and find out what she wants."
Zim-ri's heart tugged in his chest. This would be a rushed farewell with his ox friend. He slid off Tu-gar's back and took the yellow root from the water basket. Sagada frowned, but Zim-ri would not be dissuaded from this moment. He stood in front of the animal and touched his forehead to the bony place between Tu-gar's eyes. He filled his lungs with the tang of cowhide. Then Zim-ri took a step back and lifted the yellow root to the beast's lips.
Tu-gar took the root eagerly and crunched it. Sagada, impatient to be going, pulled the animal by one of his blunted horns toward the group of men waiting in the already sweltering morning sunlight. He looked at Zim-ri over his shoulder.
"Go see Mother."
As the circle of men closed in around the ox, Zim-ri turned away. He was doing his best not to shame himself by letting his tears fall, so he did not notice the black-bearded stranger standing in the shade of the headman's house.
The man, however, who wore a plain but well-made tunic, had noticed the boy. He had watched the young one handle the large animal with ease and something akin to tenderness. He stroked his fine beard thoughtfully and nodded slightly to himself as he watched the boy walk away.
Zim-ri reached his house, which was made of mud bricks like every other building in his village. There he found his mother wrapping dates in grape leaves under the shade of a brown awning. His mother was not well, and he could see that even this small activity was draining her of strength.
"It is so hot out here, Ama," said Zim-ri with concern. "Maybe it is cooler in the house."
Zim-ri's mother's hair was streaked with gray, but it was neatly braided and in a tidy coil around her head. Her garment, a one-shouldered white wool wrap, was clean and carefully placed. Although her good looks had been stolen by hard work and ill health, Zim-ri's mother still made the effort to preserve her dignity.
The frail woman wiped the perspiration off her forehead with the back of her thin hand, but her dark eyes never left her son's face. She searched his features until the boy spoke.
"Many of father's friends are in the village today."
"Yes, much the same way as flies gather when something has died," answered his mother darkly. "We have lost your hard working friend Tu-gar, my son, but I see you are being strong."
His mother had always been able to tell what he was thinking by just looking at his face, so Zim-ri had tried to shield her from his grief. With her mention of Tu-gar, however, words tumbled from him. "The hard part, Ama, is that Tu-gar does not even know he is leaving us!"
"How true, Young One, and the knowing one must bear the burden of the separation. That is why I have sent for you."
"I know why you sent for me, Ama. It was so I would not watch as Tu-gar is led away." Zim-ri's sturdy shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked toward the village center, but its view was blocked by the other houses between them.
"That is also true," said his mother, shaking her head with a sad smile. "You have always been the son who could understand the deeper layers of things when others could not bother. But there is something else, as well." She gathered the wrapped dates. "Bring me the journey bag, please."
The boy pulled the woven bag from the peg on the wall where it hung by its braided strap. He handed it to his mother. "Is Ada going somewhere?" He suddenly felt a little uneasy.
She shook her head. "I do not believe Tu-gar will bring enough to finish paying your father's debts, my son. Even if he does, your father has made the decision to do an additional thing to gain a little more silver." She put the wrapped dates in the bag and then stood. When she looked at Zim-ri, the sadness in her eyes was greater than his own.
"What is it?" asked the boy, his unease changing to fear.
His mother moved to his side and put her arm around him. She used to rest her chin on his head when she did this, but he was too tall now, so she leaned her head against his. She took a shuddering breath and said, "Your father has sold you today, as well as Tu-gar."
Zim-ri was stunned, and his mind spun like a swirling sand-devil.
"What?"
His mother kissed his black hair and moved into the house. He could only follow after her stolidly, like Tu-gar. As she moved around a small table made of stacked bricks, she put bread and other items into the bag. She took another deep breath and said, "The gods have sent a slave trader passing through our village. That has led to this decision."
"I am going to be taken away?" Zim-ri looked around his one room home at the sleeping mats, at the fire pit, at the little niche of household gods. "Ada sold me? I am leaving home?" His voice broke, and he could say no more.
His mother offered him comforting words, but the boy was not attending. His thoughts were already going out the door, through the village, and down the road.
The thin woman stopped talking, and Zim-ri came to himself enough to realize his mother was silent. He looked at her and saw how his reaction was hurting her, so he stepped to her and put his arms around her. She was so thin!
"Do not worry, Ama," said the boy, "I will find a way to escape."
"My son, if you run away and come back to the village, your father will only return you to the slave master. It is the law." She shook her head. "And he will surely beat you for running away."
"I do not care if Ada beats me. I will run away and come back home!"
"My son, you must not. It would be like stealing from the slave master if you were to run away, and you know the harsh punishments for stealing. Always stay on the right side of things. It is the way you have been raised."
"I do try to be on the right side, Ama! I work hard, and I obey you and Ada!
His mother reluctantly freed herself from his embrace. "Of course you do, but things have changed."
"I do not want things to change!"
"It is the nature of things to change," she said. "It seems like the way things are at the moment is the way they are going to be forever, but this is not true. Things change, and we can be the ones to influence the change if we will look for a way. And if there is no way we can alter them, things will still change anyway."
She fluffed his curly hair with her thin fingers. "You have been a good son, but changes have already begun for us. We would have been separated soon anyway."
Zim-ri searched her sad, dark eyes and saw her meaning. It chilled him, and he shook his head. "Do not speak of it!" he cried.
"This parting is better, I think," said his mother. "You must find a way to bring forth something good from evil. Do not betray your up-bringing by running away from the slave master."
She stepped forward and kissed his forehead. The small room darkened as someone came to the door and blocked the light.
"Saying good-bye? Good, good!" said his father Oh-ta with false heartiness. "Come, Zim-ri, I have someone here for you to meet."
Zim-ri's mother handed him the journey bag and his full water skin. She touched his cheek and turned away as Oh-ta pulled the boy's arm toward the door.
Zim-ri had never known his father to change his mind. Once Oh-ta was set on a course, there was no way out. But Zim-ri could not help himself.
"Ada! Let me stay!" cried the boy.
"The deal has been struck," said Oh-ta, giving his son's arm a painful twist. "Do not cause trouble. The slave merchant has given me a good price."
So many thoughts crowded Zim-ri's head, he could not slow their spinning. As he stepped blinkingly into the sunlight, the boy looked like a poor simple-minded one.
A black-bearded man in a well-made tunic stood under the brown awning. Next to him stood a very tall man whose head touched the canopy. Even Sagada was there, looking intrigued, as though this were an interesting business exchange.
Oh-ta spoke. "This is Master Padda, and he has bought you. Obey him as you do me, and you will come to no harm."
Master Padda was used to seeing the blank expression that was now on the boy's face, and he nodded calmly to his tall servant. The tall one took Zim-ri's arm firmly in his large hand, but stood still and waited for Master Padda to speak.
The slave master's deep voice was loud, as though he were speaking for the benefit of unseen witnesses. He did not look at the boy but addressed Oh-ta. "You have received payment from my scribe and made your mark. With the boy in my possession, our business is ended. May the great gods protect us all!"
Then the slave merchant turned to the tall man. "Lu-goh, take the boy and let us join the others at the well."
The servant towered over Zim-ri, but he was gentle as he tugged the boy firmly forward. Zim-ri looked back for one last glimpse of his family, but his mother had remained inside the house. His father and brother were not looking in his direction.
It was an odd sensation to walk through the familiar hot and dusty little streets of his community in the tow of strangers. The neighbor women who were watching from their doorways looked sympathetic, but the men gathered around Tu-gar did not even notice as the boy was taken away. Instead, it was only a big, spotted gray dog and a small yellow dog who watched solemnly as Zim-ri joined the strangers drawing water from the well in the heart of the village.
Master Padda's tall servant took Zim-ri to a man who wore the leather helmet and cloak of the king's guard. It was the guard who tied a rope to Zim-ri's waist and attached him to one of the tired- looking people near the well. The guard did not say a word, nor did anyone else.
The boy could tell the rest of Master Padda's slaves had noticed a new member had been added to their group, but they were avoiding catching his eyes. It gave him the sensation of being unseen, like a soulless spirit. That is what he had always felt like in his family: an unseen one.
CHAPTER 2The Road to Ur
* * *
Zim-ri searched his mind for anything to explain the injustice he felt as he was taken away from his home. Life did not make any sense. He felt weakness in his legs, like he could not go on. How could this have happened to him?
He knew his father and Sagada had a deep bond. There had been no need to explain that his strong, older brother would not be sold. But his last view of them, of his father slapping his brother on the shoulder as they congratulated themselves on Zim-ri's selling price, still stung the boy.
Zim-ri could yet recall his mother's touch on his cheek, and he felt sad to be leaving her. She had always tried to convince his father of his worth, and besides, she was sick and needed his help! But if selling him had raised a good price, perhaps his mother would be able to rest now.
Even so, anger filled his heart. Being sold as a slave felt like a betrayal by his father. Then, as he left the last of familiar landmarks behind, the pain of separation mixed with Zim-ri's anger. It hurt to leave home. His mother needed him, and he did not know the fate of the dependable Tu-gar. He must find some way to return to them.
He examined the rope tied at his waist. It would be easy to simply untie it and edge away from the others once night had wrapped them all in darkness. He would be only a day's journey from home. Surely he could find his way back, even in the dark. He shivered at the thought of facing the night demons, and his mother's words about staying on the right side of things returned to his mind.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Ox-Boy of Ur by Rose Shaw. Copyright © 2014 Rose Shaw. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
BOOK ONE THE ROAD TO UR,Chapter 1 A Sudden Farewell, 3,
Chapter 2 The Road to Ur, 13,
Chapter 3 Mara Works Some Magic, 29,
Chapter 4 The Lost Seal, 43,
Chapter 5 The Ox-Boy Is Revealed, 54,
Chapter 6 About Being a Slave, 63,
Chapter 7 Buranum, 75,
Chapter 8 The Great City of Ur, 88,
Chapter 9 Um-Oh, 99,
Chapter 10 The Night of Mourning, 111,
Chapter 11 Master Ea-Nasir, 123,
Chapter 12 The Bargain, 134,
Chapter 13 Market to Market, 143,
Chapter 14 The Busy Harbor, 152,
Chapter 15 Family, 163,
BOOK TWO THE OX-BOY OF UR,
Chapter 1 The Ships Come In, 177,
Chapter 2 A Mistake Is Made, 195,
Chapter 3 The Storm, 209,
Chapter 4 The Storm Passes, 216,
Chapter 5 Eribam Gets a Visit, 225,
Chapter 6 Business, 239,
Chapter 7 Festival of the River Goddess, 255,
Chapter 8 Friends, Old and New, 271,
Chapter 9 The Road to the Marshes, 285,
Chapter 10 Confrontation, 299,
Chapter 11 Survivors' Tale, 313,
Chapter 12 Father And Son, 325,
Chapter 13 The Return to Ur, 336,
Chapter 14 The Homecoming, 346,
BOOK THREE THE MERCHANTS OF UR,
Chapter 1 Herbs and Such, 359,
Chapter 2 A Sacrifice Is Revealed, 371,
Chapter 3 An Encounter of Importance, 389,
Chapter 4 Fame, 407,
Chapter 5 A Trip Up-River, 417,
Chapter 6 A Detour, 430,
Chapter 7 Emani Tells His Tale, 441,
Chapter 8 A Change of Plan, 452,
Chapter 9 Little Mara, 463,
Chapter 10 An Important Idea, 474,
Chapter 11 Um-Oh Makes His Bow, 485,
Chapter 12 The Mind of a Merchant, 497,