by Sam Barone
“We see no other way to win, Gatus,” Trella answered. “Every other course of action merely delays our defeat. Eskkar’s plan is not something Shulgi will expect. It is dangerous, to be sure, but no more dangerous than remaining inside Akkad and waiting for the end. And we’ll be on the offensive.”
Gatus snorted. “Offensive, is that what you’re calling it? Well, I always said your husband would get us all killed one of these days. I just never expected anything like this. Still, I do like it better than hiding behind Akkad’s walls and waiting. Doing that once was enough.” He glanced around the table. “When do we march?”
“Tomorrow.” Eskkar glanced up at the narrow windows, and saw only grayness. Dusk had fallen. “You’ve got the rest of the night to prepare your men, all of you.”
The next morning, just before dawn, Eskkar rode out of the Compound, Grond at his side. Twenty picked warriors from the Hawk Clan waited in the lane outside, his personal guard. Ten rode in advance, and ten followed close behind Eskkar’s horse. The horsemen kept their eyes moving and their hands on their swords. War had come to Akkad, and treachery could strike at any moment and from any direction. The city always held a good number of strangers, and even Annok-sur’s army of women couldn’t watch all of them all the time. A single arrow shot from a rooftop could bring down even Eskkar.
But the lanes of Akkad remained almost empty of life, and the few sleepy tradesmen who happened to be up and about shrank in fear against the nearest wall or ducked back into the first doorway they could reach as the grim riders trotted by. Eskkar’s guards never slowed, and they soon reached the city’s main gate, which creaked open just in time to let the king and his guards ride through without breaking the pace.
They followed the well-packed dirt of the road until it forked, then took the southern route toward the first assembly point, about six miles away. In the last few days, Eskkar’s commanders had assembled the army in four such camps, each a few miles apart. With such a large number of soldiers under arms, Eskkar didn’t want the men wandering loose in Akkad, with its numerous temptations for women, wine and gambling. Not to mention any possible spies from Sumer, or even traders who might talk too much about what they’d seen or heard. And so the men had said their farewells days ago, and now waited for the order to march.
Eskkar had said his goodbye to Trella last night, when they held each other tight. They had never endured a parting such as this. Often enough, Eskkar had ridden off to do battle, but this time he went to wage war on the land of Sumeria, and for this conflict there would be many battles to be fought. Both of them knew that this might be the last time they could cling to each other. Even Eskkar’s final words had acknowledged the risk. “Watch over Sargon, our son. Train him well.”
A poor choice of words, Eskkar decided in the light of dawn, almost as if he expected to fall in battle. He felt no such premonitions, no hint from the gods that this time his luck might desert him, but only a fool tempted fate with such words. The one sensation he experienced was relief. More than two years of preparation had created a well-trained and superbly equipped army. Now would come the true test of all that time and training. The sooner he closed with Shulgi’s invaders, the quicker the war would end.
At the first camp Hathor waited with three hundred horsemen mounted and ready to ride. In addition to their weapons, each man carried a water skin and a sack bulging with food. Twenty pack animals brought up the rear, each burdened with a cooking pot and as much bread and grain as it could carry. No fires burned, and only a few women and boys stood watching in silence, many with tears streaming down their faces, as their menfolk rode off to war. Eskkar and his guards fell in beside the Egyptian, who gave the command that started the entire force moving in a double column.
“Any problems?” The two leaders rode close together, feet almost touching as they cantered along at an easy pace.
“None, Captain. Not even a horse going lame. The men are eager to ride.”
“Let’s hope they feel that when they see Razrek’s cavalry.”
Hathor laughed. “One battle at a time, isn’t that what you keep saying?”
This time it was Eskkar who laughed. “My father used to say, don’t count the number of your enemies, just kill the man in front of you.”
“Your father must have been a great and wise warrior.”
“He was.”
Something in Eskkar’s words told Hathor not to pursue the subject. Not many knew about Eskkar’s early years and his wanderings before coming to Akkad. He preferred to keep that part of his life a well-guarded secret.
They reached the second camp without speaking further. Klexor pulled himself onto his horse as they approached, and swung in beside Eskkar and Hathor, who slowed their pace but didn’t halt the men. “Good morning, Captain. My men are ready to ride.”
“Well done, Klexor.” Eskkar reached out and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.
As the original column rode past, Klexor’s five hundred and thirty riders fell into place behind them. By the time they gathered in the scouts on patrol and the Ur Nammu riders, there would be close to eight hundred and fifty horsemen.
The third camp stood ready when they arrived. Gatus, wearing a wide-brimmed reed hat to shade his bald head from the sun, sat astride a gentle mare. At least for this campaign the old soldier had decided to admit his age. Gatus had promised his men that he would march and fight on foot beside them, but they had protested until he agreed to use the mare to keep pace with his men. Now he waited at the head of twenty-eight hundred spearmen.
Eskkar halted the horsemen, and waved toward Gatus, who ordered his men to move out, marching them four abreast and taking the lead. Except for those riding patrols around the main force, the horsemen would follow in their path, leaving the way free of horse droppings for the foot soldiers.
The bowmen, slingers, and the remaining men waited at the fourth camp. Eskkar could see a few of them still taking target practice as his men approached. When they saw Eskkar approaching at the head of the army, Alexar and Mitrac summoned their men back into ranks, and they fell in behind Gatus and his spearmen.
The city of Akkad was going to war, with a mighty army larger than anything Eskkar had ever imagined. Counting everyone, the army numbered just over five thousand, an incredible number of fighting men. He knew they were good men. Many had trained for this day for over two years, and even the least experienced man among them had at least six months to learn his trade. Those with less experience remained in Akkad, to continue their training and defend the city’s walls under Bantor’s command.
Eskkar’s most loyal commander, Bantor had protested his assignment most of the night. Finally Gatus ended the argument. “We’re leaving our women and children in your care, because you’re the best man to protect them. So follow your orders and stop complaining just because you can’t go off and get killed with the rest of us.”
Eskkar had smiled at that. In reality, he had wanted to leave Gatus behind as well, but he knew all the spearmen would fight better under Gatus’s eye. Besides, he would never have obeyed such an order.
As they marched south, Eskkar studied the men. The soldiers’ training had been arduous, even brutal at times, but as Eskkar and every barbarian knew from childhood, you trained long and hard so that the actual fighting would be easy. Not easy, but at least something familiar to each man. He had to remind himself that more than half of these men had never raised a weapon in anger. For many of them, real battle would be something new and frightening, something beyond anything they’d ever dreamed of.
Fortunately, the Sumerian soldiers were much the same, at least as far as battle experience. But what the Sumerians lacked in experience, they made up in numbers. Trella’s spies had come up with all kinds of numbers, but they all agreed on one thing – at least fifteen thousand men were under arms, controlled by King Shulgi. Other estimates had placed the number of Akkadian enemies at as much as twenty-five thousand, a number so vast that Esk
kar had trouble grasping it.
Six cities, plus the half-barbarian scum that lived and raided along the western desert now served under Shulgi’s banner. The Sumerian king might be little more than a boy, but somehow in two short years he had assembled and trained the largest army the world had ever seen, and now he intended to use it against Akkad.
Eskkar understood what risks lay ahead of him. If he faced Shulgi in battle and were defeated, it might mean the end of Akkad. Even if Eskkar and part of his army survived and managed to retreat behind Akkad’s walls, such a huge enemy force could take its time and starve the city until it surrendered. And these new besiegers would not repeat the mistakes of the Alur Meriki. The Sumerians would establish their resupply lines and take their time, until the city was ripe for the taking. Eskkar frowned at the thought. The idea of someone other than himself and Trella ruling Akkad’s people and lands was unbearable.
“Worried about something, Captain?”
Hathor’s words brought Eskkar back to the present. He straightened up, and pushed the dark thoughts from his mind. “Just thinking about what’s ahead of us.”
“Shulgi has raised a powerful force, but our men are better trained. And he’s young, and lacks experience. As long as –”
“As long as we don’t fight him on his terms.” Eskkar laughed. “Well, let’s hope our plan for that works.”
“It will, Captain. It will.”
41
The army of Akkad marched south at an easy pace. They stayed close to the Tigris, both for access to fresh water, and to be resupplied by Yavtar’s boats. For the last two years, while Eskkar worked and trained with his commanders, Yavtar and Trella had planned ways to supply the army. In preparation, they established eight temporary docks and way stations between Akkad and the border outpost of Kanesh. As soon as the army commenced moving south a steady stream of boats loaded up their cargo and pushed away from Akkad’s jetties. Trella’s supply clerks, many of them women, had planned each march of the campaign and knew what particular supplies would be needed at every step.
Those cargoes would make sure Eskkar’s forces traveled light and fast. The army would stop briefly at each way station on their journey south, and Yavtar’s fleet of boats would bring grain for the horses and fresh bread for the soldiers. Eskkar knew that Trella would keep the cooking ovens in Akkad burning from dawn until well into the night, and that supplies and even a few extra men would be ready for him at every stage of his march.
Shulgi’s army also relied on the river for food and supplies, but if Trella’s spies knew their business, the Sumerians had less than fifty boats working the river. Yavtar, meanwhile, commanded over sixty supply vessels, plus ten ships fitted specifically for battle. Each warship carried at least sixteen to twenty archers in addition to the regular crew of sailors and rowers. These ships would provide protection for the supply ships.
The Sumerians had captured the trading post at Kanesh, established two years ago to facilitate trade between Akkad and the Sumerian cities. Located at the juncture of the Tigris and the Sippar, the post had little value, except as a place to store goods being shipped north or south, and to provide travelers and traders a safe place to meet and haggle over prices. Nevertheless, almost a hundred archers and swordsmen had been stationed there, and the villagers dwelling within had increased that number to well over three hundred.
Eskkar had hoped, when the inevitable war broke out, to either reinforce the outpost or get the soldiers guarding it out in time, but Kanesh had fallen in a single morning, cut off and taken by a heavy force of Tanukh horsemen before the first rumor of war arrived from the south. All the supplies awaiting shipment in Kanesh had been taken intact. The defenders, now all dead or enslaved, probably had no time even to destroy the goods.
Now all of Shulgi’s army had camped there, digging in and waiting for Eskkar to march south and meet them in battle. The idea of Sumerians enjoying Akkad’s supplies while they waited to crush his army rankled Eskkar more than he showed.
As the men marched, Eskkar rode up and down alongside the men, observing their faces, looking for signs of fear or doubt. After the first of these inspections, the soldiers stopped being nervous about his passage. They smiled or waved, showing no more concern for their fate than if they were on yet one more of Gatus’s strenuous training marches. Eskkar’s careful scrutiny of his men impressed all the leaders of ten, twenty, fifty and one hundred. The idea that the king of Akkad might find fault with some equipment, or even the careless handling of their weapons, made every man in the army conscious of their duty.
He did the same reviews – at least three or four per day – on the cavalry, archers, and especially the slingers. Their relative youthfulness made it hard for them to restrain their excitement. From their looks and gestures, they might have been rushing back to Akkad to fill the local taverns for a night of feasting.
Five days after departing Akkad, at mid-morning, Eskkar saw three riders returning at a gallop. The leader of the scouts raced down the column of soldiers until he reached Gatus and Eskkar, who recognized the man, Tarok, another veteran who had fought in the battle to recapture Akkad from the Egyptian Korthac. Tarok pulled up and guided his horse alongside the Akkadian leaders.
“We saw the Sumerians.” Tarok couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “It’s a great force, spread out on the plain just north of Kanesh. Their cavalry drove us off.”
“How many?” Eskkar, surrounded by his commanders, waited to hear Tarok’s estimate.
“We saw at least two or three thousand horses,” Tarok said, his eyes wide with wonder at the number. “We didn’t have time to take a better count.”
Eskkar heard the murmur spread up and down the column at the news. “Well, then I’m glad you got away. No sense in fighting such a large force with just the three of you.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. “You’ve done well. Report to Hathor. Meanwhile, we’ll keep moving according to our plan.” Eskkar and his commanders had known of the size of the enemy’s cavalry. Tarok’s sighting merely confirmed it. “In a few hours we’ll reach the Tigris and obtain supplies from Yavtar’s boats.”
“They’ll be expecting us to do battle in the morning,” Gatus said. “They know we can’t just march down here and then turn back without a fight. Even more likely, the Sumerians will expect us to launch a surprise attack tonight.”
The easiest way for a smaller force to defeat a larger one was to attack at night, catching the enemy asleep and unprepared.
“We’ll give them a surprise all right,” Eskkar said, “but not the one they’re expecting. Push on to the river.”
The army continued its movement, turning slightly westward, to reach the Tigris before nightfall. About two miles north of Kanesh, they made camp along the river, and Gatus made certain that a strong force of pickets and skirmishers patrolled the land. By then Razrek’s scouts had drawn ever closer, ranging up and down the column, galloping every which way, and trying to entice their enemy into giving chase. The Akkadians kept a wary eye on their enemy, but otherwise ignored them. The soldiers might have grown nervous at the sight of the Sumerians, but they saw their commanders’ unconcern, and drew strength from that.
Before dusk fell, eight boats carrying supplies from Akkad slid ashore. Draelin, another of Yavtar’s leaders, splashed ashore even before the first boat ground its bottom against the riverbank. “Take me to Lord Eskkar,” he commanded.
Moments later, Draelin stood before Eskkar, Grond, Gatus, Hathor and the other commanders, all of them crowding around the messenger. “Lord, I bring word from Bantor. A large force of barbarians has been sighted to the east, riding hard. Bantor thinks they may not be Tanukhs, but Alur Meriki. They might be coming to strike at Akkad.”
Eskkar swore at the news, a grimace on his face. “How soon before they reach the city?”
“Another three or four days,” Draelin answered. “No more than that.”
“Any word on ho
w many?”
Draelin shook his head. “Hundreds … a thousand … no one knows.”
“Well, if it’s Alur Meriki, they don’t have a thousand warriors,” Gatus said. “If they mustered every fighter that can sit on a horse, they might have half that number.”
Eskkar nodded. For almost five years he’d waited, knowing that some day, when the Alur Meriki had recovered their strength, they would return to Akkad to settle their blood debt. But Trella’s spies had not neglected the eastern lands where the Alur Meriki had gone, and he had a rough idea of the forces they could muster. “If they send a raiding party, even a large one, it won’t be more than two or three hundred men.”
“That’s not enough to take Akkad,” Gatus said. “Why would they risk provoking us, making us come after them, unless …”
“Unless they knew all our fighters had gone south to fight Sumeria.” Eskkar shook his head. “This is another of Shulgi’s plots. Demons take the boy king! He must have allied himself with the Alur Meriki, or at least warned them of his plans. So they decided this is the time to strike, to take their revenge.”
“Three or four hundred barbarians on horses aren’t going to scale Akkad’s new walls,” Gatus said. “Our men there can hold them off.”
Eskkar had left four hundred and fifty fighters in Akkad to defend the city, barely enough to guard the walls properly. Many of those left behind were considered to be too old or too young for a vigorous campaign in the south. The city’s inhabitants would have to join in the defense as well, and Bantor’s men had been training them too. Many had taken part in the defense of the city during the Alur Meriki siege, and would supplement the soldiers. And with so many people crowding into the city seeking safety, there should be more than enough to withstand any attacks, at least for the next few weeks.
The Alur Meriki raiders would terrorize the countryside, but they couldn’t do any real damage to Akkad itself. Gone were the days when its inhabitants trembled at the name of the dreaded barbarian horsemen.
