by Sam Barone
This time Kedor paused to take a full breath.
“The cities of Akkad, Isin, Sumer, Uruk, and Lagash were put to much trouble and expense by the dog Shirudukh. That expense must be repaid. The sum of twenty thousand gold coins, each coin the equal to one of Akkad’s own gold coins, or the equivalent in gold or silver ingots, is to be paid within twenty days. My ships that attacked your harbor will return on that date to collect payment.
“If payment is not received at that time, I, Eskkar of Akkad, will lead the soldiers of the Land Between the Rivers into the lands of Elam. I, Eskkar of Akkad, will unleash the warriors of the steppes on your northern territories. I, Eskkar of Akkad, will have my ships burn your harbors and sink your ships. I, Eskkar of Akkad, will destroy every city that resists me, yet I will spare and reward every city that joins with me to hunt down King Jedidia of Elam. My soldiers in their just anger will not stop until the head of King Jedidia rests at my feet. This I, Eskkar of Akkad, swear to you and all the gods, and most especially to the wise Goddess Ishtar and the great God Marduk, who will always defend and protect the Land Between the Rivers. I, Eskkar of Akkad, also declare that if any soldiers from the land of Elam ever dare to set foot on our lands again, I will bring war and destruction upon you, until all your cities are destroyed. There is no more to be said.”
Silence filled the Council Room. None of the advisors dared to meet the King’s eyes. After a moment, Kedor spoke again, this time in his normal voice.
“My Lord, I was given a gold coin by Commander Daro, as a sample of what was required. However, one of your guards took it from me. You may want to get it back. Daro also insisted I was to be returned with the ransom, alive and unharmed. If I am not, the amount of gold demanded is to be increased by an additional one thousand coins. If you accept the terms, a signal fire is to burn all through the night tomorrow, at the mouth of the Karum River.”
Kedor paused, as if unsure whether he should speak again. “My Lord, I was also told to inform you that this message would be delivered to the other cities of Elam, so that all would know the devastation that awaits them should they ever wage war again on the Land Between the Rivers.”
“Get out.” Jedidia found his left hand had tightened on the hilt of his sword. He wanted nothing more than to hack Kedor’s body to pieces. “Get him out of here.”
The wide-eyed commander hustled Kedor from the chamber. The heavy door swung closed with a thud, leaving Jedidia and his six guards alone with the four members of his Council of Advisors.
Jedidia faced them. “Well, you heard Eskkar’s demands. What do you suggest?”
No one spoke. He saw the trembling of their hands, and not one of them met his gaze.
“Fools, all of you! Do you think I will let that ignorant barbarian and his slut of a wife tell me what to do? Let them demand payment from my empire?”
Jedidia flung his words, along with a mouthful of spittle, at his council. He took two strides to stand in front of the most cunning of them, and the least trustworthy. “You, Aram-Kitchu, what do you say? Were you not once one of those filthy Sumerians?”
Aram-Kitchu bowed so low that his black beard touched the table.
“My King, I don’t know what to say. I was born in Sumeria, it’s true, but that land was conquered by the Akkadians, and I bear only hatred toward them. I’ve lived in Sushan for almost twenty years, and my loyalties are only to you, My King, and to Elam.”
Again Aram-Kitchu bowed his head, as if to reinforce his loyalty. “As to the barbarian Eskkar, I can only say what I’ve heard, what everyone has heard who has dealings with Akkad. That King Eskkar is a man of his word. That he has never broken a promise or a trust, even to the lowest of his soldiers or the least of his people.”
With a snarl of rage, Jedidia jerked his sword from its scabbard, and pressed the point against Aram-Kitchu’s stomach. “You dare to threaten me with Eskkar’s name? You are the one whose spies failed to warn us of the secret alliances between Isin and Sumer and Akkad. Your spies again failed to warn me about the Jkarian Pass, or that Eskkar would fight at the Dellen Pass. You are a traitor to Elam. I should put you to the torture before I add your head to the pile outside.”
Aram-Kitchu stared at the sword, but shook his head. “My life is yours to take, my King. But not once did my spies fail to bring good information. Even so, King Shirudukh relied on many sources besides myself. Nor did he heed my warnings about Akkad. I advised him several times that the Akkadians were not to be taken lightly.”
Jedidia hesitated. This Sumerian traitor had spoken the truth about that. The fool Shirudukh had laughed at the Akkadians, as if the mere sound of his name would frighten them into surrendering. Nevertheless, Jedidia still wanted to drive the sword into Aram-Kitchu’s belly, if only to hear the man’s screams as Jedidia twisted the blade into his guts.
“Then what do you suggest that I do, Aram-Kitchu?’ He pushed the blade harder against the man’s tunic, and a spot of red appeared beneath the blade’s tip.
Aram-Kitchu raised his eyes for the first time, and met Jedidia’s gaze. “My King, I cannot help you if I am dead. But you must decide how to deal with the Akkadians. If you want to face the Akkadians in battle, I’m sure you can destroy any army they send against us. Your soldiers still out number them many times over.”
With a horrifying scream, Jedidia raised his sword up and swung it down with all his might. But the blade smashed into the table, not Aram-Kitchu’s head, and clove right through the finely carved surface in a burst of splinters. The other advisors recoiled at the blow, raising their hands in fear and shrinking away from the King’s wrath.
The commander of Jedidia’s guards outside the chamber heard the commotion and pushed open the door. He took a brief look, to assure himself that the King remained safe, and ducked back outside.
“Damn you, Eskkar of Akkad! Damn . . .” Jedidia choked on the words, his tongue unable to match his fury. The big vein in his forehead bulged and throbbed as if it would burst.
Of course he dared not raise another army to fight the Akkadians. The soldiers who managed to survive the invasion had limped home beaten men. That attitude had already spread throughout the Empire and the rest of Elam’s soldiers.
By now even the lowliest and most distant of his soldiers had heard about the unstoppable Eskkar of Akkad – the cunning King who had never lost a battle, the King who cannot be beaten no matter how greatly outnumbered, the King who slaughters his enemies by the thousands, and, most of all, the King who had never failed to make good on his word.
The first time an Akkadian soldier set foot on Elam’s soil, the Empire would erupt in revolt. Jedidia would be lucky if a handful of cities remained loyal. He’d never sleep again, without wondering if he would wake up with his head still on his shoulders. Any one of his men would gladly carry such a trophy to Eskkar for the inevitably large reward that would be offered.
Jedidia felt wetness on his chin, and wiped it hard with the back of his left hand. A smear of red marked his fingers. The taste of blood confirmed that he’d bitten his tongue.
If he couldn’t fight, what were his options? Jedidia felt a sinking feeling in his chest, the same one that had washed over him in the Jkarian Pass.
He glared at the four men cringing before him. “Well, what do you suggest, damn you? You are supposed to be my wise and exalted advisors. Give me your advice.”
No one answered. “What would you do, Aram-Kitchu?”
The wealthy merchant kept his head low. “My King, since I lack your courage, I would pay the sum demanded. Eskkar is probably not eager to go to war, but he needs an excuse to refrain. If he receives the gold, the barbarian will no doubt keep most of it for himself, but he will use the rest to assuage his allies and soldiers, and satisfy their desires for conquest. With so much wealth in his hand, he will not bother to invade. He would already have more gold than he could get in any invasion, and without the cost in men and supplies. In a few years, five at most, you can rec
over most of the gold from your own people.”
Jedidia knew that last statement was another lie. It would take at least eight or more years to recover such a huge sum. He would have to squeeze every coin out of every man in the Empire. Still Aram-Kitchu spoke the truth about one thing – in time the gold would be recovered. Life would be difficult, but at least Jedidia would keep his throne.
With an oath, he again swung his sword at what remained of the table, making the advisors shrink back in fright a second time. The smell of urine wafted in the air. At least one of the advisors had pissed himself.
“Raise the gold! I don’t care what you do or how you do it, but raise the twenty thousand coins. Squeeze it out of every city, every village, every farmer, shopkeeper, merchant, priest, temple, every whore and beggar in the Empire. Sell anyone who can’t pay into slavery, and put those who refuse to pay to the sword. My soldiers will give you whatever help you need. If you can’t raise the amount needed, I’ll confiscate everything of value you own, before I hang each one of you and every member of your family upside down in the marketplace.”
No one uttered a word. Death might be the punishment for the slightest objection.
Jedidia glanced at one of his guards. “Send the traitor Kedor back to his new friends, and tell him that Elam will pay the gold.” Sword still clutched in hand, Jedidia strode out of the room, followed by his guards, and leaving behind the stunned and shaken advisors.
The four men glanced around the empty chamber, as if to reassure themselves that they were alone and still alive. “By the gods, this will beggar all of us.” The words came in a whisper from Shesh-kala, who tugged at his white beard with a hand that still trembled.
“Yes, it will,” Aram-Kitchu agreed. He glanced down at his tunic.
A small circle of blood had seeped through the garment, where the King’s blade had pierced the skin. Aram-Kitchu had come that close to dying. Now for the privilege of staying alive, he’d have to give up most of his fortune, and spend the next few years groveling on his knees and working himself back into the new King’s favor. Even so, Aram-Kitchu would dread the King’s every summons, wondering when Jedidia would finally choose to put him to the torture before taking his head.
The King of Akkad’s message had been cunning indeed. The sum demanded was just enough to bring the Empire, already facing disaster from the enormous cost of the war, to the brink of ruin, but not so large as to be impossible. Yes, Aram-Kitchu detected the shrewdness of Lady Trella’s presence in the message. Eskkar could never have calculated the precise sum needed to beggar the Kingdom of Elam, or composed such a bold demand.
And then another idea took root deep in Aram-Kitchu’s thoughts. Perhaps Lady Trella had presented him with the opportunity to get rid of King Jedidia, and take the kingship for himself. With enough gold to buy men and influence, such boldness might succeed in the troubling times soon to come.
But gold, of course, would soon be in short supply, as every trader, merchant, and even the lowest farmer hastened to bury his valuables beneath the dirt of his fields.
Then suddenly Aram-Kitchu, once known as Bracca the Sumerian thief, knew exactly where he could obtain such a large sum of gold, probably as much as he needed. It shouldn’t be too difficult for Lady Trella to funnel some of Jedidia’s gold back into Bracca’s hands.
She and Eskkar would understand the advantages of having Bracca rule the Elamite Empire. With enough wealth, Bracca could buy the soldiers, mercenaries, and supporters needed to put himself on the throne. Jedidia was, after all, a common fighting man, with no friends or family to sustain him. Soon his unpopular policies would bring hatred down on his name.
Once again, Bracca felt glad he had warned his old traveling companion, Eskkar, about the coming invasion. Though Bracca had done so because of their strong bond of friendship, that good deed might now save his own life.
Bracca rose, and one by one, the others stood and headed for the door. As the youngest, Bracca trailed the others out of the chamber, but his thoughts remained elsewhere. He decided that with a plentiful supply of gold, some help from his new friends in Akkad, and a little luck, he, Bracca, would be the next king of Elam.
It would require time, perhaps half a year, but it could be done. He might even take back his true name once again. King Bracca of Elam and the Indus sounded much more imposing than King Aram-Kitchu, and much more impressive than King Eskkar of Akkad.
(Readers: if you have not yet read Battle for Empire, the fifth novel in the Eskkar Saga, you may want to visit my website, www.sambarone.com and click on the Battle for Empire tab, to read the prologue)
Epilogue
The Palace at Akkad, 3109 BC (26 years after the war with Elam) . . .
Trella studied her grandson, Escander, reclining on the couch near the window. Outside, the birds had settled into the trees and started their twilight songs to welcome the end of another pleasant day. Dusk settled over the Palace grounds, and those who dwelt within its walls waited for the servant’s call that would announce the evening’s meal.
Tonight, however, Queen Mother Trella and Escander would again dine in her private quarters. In fact, Trella and her grandson had taken all their meals in her chambers for the last three days. The matters they discussed were far too important to risk anyone overhearing, and neither wanted to waste even a moment when so much of importance remained unsaid.
But at last the long story that had taken Trella deep into the past had ended.
To anyone watching, Escander appeared to have fallen asleep. Yet Trella knew her grandson had heard every word, memorized every important name, and grasped the sometimes difficult concepts that she’d related. He was the one person in the Palace that she could engage as an equal. But like every excellent teacher, Trella always knew when to let her pupil gather his thoughts and reflect upon what he’d learned.
“Tell my son everything,” King Sargon had ordered. And so for three days, Trella and Escander started with their morning meal at her table, and continued on until dusk. Now, at the end of the third day, Trella had revealed the last of the secrets, some from as far back as thirty years.
Of those still alive, only a few recalled those days. Nevertheless, Trella had done much more than simply tell her grandson what had occurred long ago. Trella had explained the steps that led to every major decision, and showed how a ruler must think and consider, how to weigh the consequences of each choice, and evaluate every possibility.
A daunting task, but Escander had received much training as he grew to manhood, as had many of his brothers. Trella had insisted that the boy learn to memorize long passages, as well as dates and numbers. By the time Escander reached his twelfth season, he could count as well as any clerk. He had also impressed both his teachers and his grandmother with his nearly perfect memory.
Nevertheless, until now, neither King Sargon nor Trella had revealed to Escander, or to any of his siblings, the most important secret of all – the way of a ruler.
Even after all these years, Trella’s memory for dates, names, and places remained as sharp as in her youth. She had filled each part of the long story with so much detail that the history of Escander’s father and grandfather came alive, almost as real as if Escander had played a part in the doing and the saying.
“You must tell me everything, all your thoughts, all your plans, everything, Eskkar.” Almost forty-five years ago, Trella had pleaded with her new master for the information she needed to help him. Not just the important facts, but all his feelings, emotions, worries, even fears. In time, her husband had learned to trust her instincts, and so he divulged to her every detail and thought he could remember, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential.
“How else can I help you, Master, if you leave out all the little details?”
And now, Escander, the grandson Eskkar had never seen, benefitted from his grandfather’s wisdom and knowledge. Trella’s precise memory and keen mind served her well once more. All the thoughts and emoti
ons of her husband Eskkar and their firstborn son Sargon now lay revealed to the next ruler of Akkad.
The story had ended, but Escander remained deep in thought. Finally he sat up and broke the silence. “I understand now why my father couldn’t tell me these things. To admit such thoughts would have been too painful for him.”
“Sargon has endured more than his share of suffering in his life,” Trella said. “But he has overcome his hardships and done much good for the Kingdom.”
“You think he means that I will rule after him?”
“Oh, yes. For more than a year, we’ve both known that you were the best choice, even more so than your older brother. In a way, his death in the north made certain that Akkad is ruled by the true heir of Eskkar. But we dared not tell anyone, either by words or deeds, of that decision. Otherwise you would have been an even greater target from your more ambitious and ruthless brothers. And sisters.”
“They will still seek to get me out of the way.”
Trella smiled. “Perhaps. But the difficulties that attend such plots are too numerous to count, and while there have been many conspiracies in Akkad’s history, none of them have succeeded. Also there is much that I can do, your father can do, to prevent any new ones from flourishing. Nevertheless, in time, you must also be firm in dealing with plots and intrigues.”
“When that day comes, I will do what is needed.”
The smile left her face at the quick response. “You will have to be ruthless and efficient. The power and strength of Akkad depends on having a strong and wise ruler. The people gave Eskkar the authority to rule over them, and they passed that onto Sargon. If one day some ambitious fool, hungry for power and gold, takes the throne, the Empire of Akkad will weaken and fail. Eskkar understood that power was merely a tool for securing the safety and stability of our city. Only when our people were safe could they be truly happy, and truly productive. And accept our rule over their lives.”
