by Sam Barone
“No one likes change, Trella. People like things to be the way they’ve always been.”
“I know. Eskkar and I have spoken about this many times. He’s visited dozens of villages throughout the land, and seen every abuse of power possible, even here. He wants to rule Bisitun in such a way that the people there are thankful to be under Akkad’s control.”
“He’s become a different man in the last few months, because of you,”
Annok-sur said. “Now even my Bantor is starting to consider his choices with more care. He’s started worrying about the future, too.”
“New times call for new skills,” Trella said. She reached down and picked up a blossom swept against her feet. “But it pleases me to see Bantor learning new ways.” She thought for a moment, admiring the flower as she did so. “I think great change is coming for all of us, and if we do not lead the way, those changes will overwhelm us. With Bisitun to worry about, we must fi nd new ways to rule there, too, ways that don’t make the people there and here in Akkad hate our authority. Otherwise we’ll be no better than any bandit.”
“What would you change first, Trella?”
“As Eskkar says, there must be a better way to resolve disputes,” Trella answered. “It would be even better to avoid them in the first place.”
“There will always be disputes, Trella. The larger the village, the more frequent the arguments. One man’s word against another, shopkeepers and customers alike complaining about their dealings.”
“The problem, I think, is not what to change first. I think we need to change everything all at once.”
Annok-sur reached out and took Trella’s hand. “If anyone else said that, I’d laugh. But you… do you really think you can replace the customs so easily?”
“No, not easily,” Trella said, “but the sooner we start, the easier it will be. Suppose we wanted to stop merchants from sharp dealing. If all the prices for everything were written down, everyone would know them, and it wouldn’t be so easy to cheat.”
“Most people can’t read the symbols. There aren’t enough symbols anyway.”
“And that, I think, is another thing we must resolve. We must get the clerks together, and have them invent new symbols, ones needed to run a city. There would have to be many more symbols, and they would have to be written down, so that the scribes and clerks don’t forget them.”
“You’d need many more clerks, as well.”
“Yes, more clerks, more symbols, more ways to record agreements, and a person in authority to settle disputes based on these new written records. So we’d have to start there, with a new school for scribes, and a new House to administer the customs.” She shook her head, revising her thoughts. “No, they wouldn’t be customs any longer. Once they were written down, they would become laws, something that couldn’t change on a merchant’s or noble’s whim.”
“Can the people even learn the symbols?” Annok-sur countered. “If they couldn’t, they’d still be trusting some scribe or merchant to explain them.”
“People would only need to know a few basic symbols. If you’re a farmer, then you need to know about crops, bushels, hectares, and farm animals. A craftsman in the city would need to know different symbols, the ones that dealt with his craft. Only the scribes would need to know all the symbols. Whenever someone needed a contract, or to record an agreement or transaction, they would visit one of our new scribes. I think it would work, Annok-sur.”
“There would have to be rules established to maintain order,” Annok-sur said, warming to the idea. “Perhaps another House might be established, one to govern the growth of Akkad.”
“Yes, next to the building where they’ll teach and train the scribes, and store the records.”
“That will be a large house, then,” Annok-sur said, only half-jokingly.
Important contracts were written in clay, most on pottery shards about the size of a woman’s hand. Once dried, they could be duplicated, stored, and even transported. The clerks traveling with Eskkar had sent back by boat several baskets containing records, all carefully wrapped to prevent breakage. Storing large quantities of such records would require many large rooms filled with hundreds of shelves to contain the shards.
Trella leaned back, letting her shoulders rest against the wall of the house. She felt the child moving about, and rested her hand on her stomach, trying to comfort the babe within. “Still, it will give the younger sons of the prosperous merchants and craftsmen something to do, a respected calling for those who cannot inherit. Perhaps parents could list their in-heritors in advance, and so avoid all those family disputes.”
The eldest son generally, but not always, inherited the family business, a practice that often led to quarrels among brothers. When death took the head of the household, brother often fought against brother, with the loser driven out of the family.
“You will change everything, Trella. The nobles will complain about you again.”
“Perhaps. But the people, I think, would approve. As would most of the smaller shopkeepers and craftsmen. They’ll see the advantage of laws that not only protect them, but provide for stable prices in the future. It’s only those grown powerful enough to take advantage of others that will object.”
“The people rely on you, Trella. They know you and Eskkar dispense justice, not whim. They’ll trust you to keep track of their shops and farms, even their contracts, but not anyone else.”
“That’s why we must show the people we can control people like Asurak and Rasui.”
“Still, you’d better wait until Eskkar returns. Do you think he will approve?”
“If it reduces the number of council meetings my husband has to attend, he’ll approve. We spoke about many of these issues right up to the day he left for Bisitun. He wanted new ways of dealing with the people there.”
“When will you tell the council?”
“I’m sure it will take several weeks to consider every aspect. You and I will start tomorrow. We’ll go over everything we need, and how we think the new Houses will function. We have to be ready to answer every objection from the likes of Rasui. Even Nicar and Corio may not agree with all these ideas. We’ll have to find ways to show them the advantages. Nobles Rebba, Decca, and Rasturin, with their big farm holdings, might be more amenable. Nevertheless, we’ll need to have every answer prepared in advance, every problem considered, and a solution, a good solution, ready to present.” Trella finished with a smile. “For Eskkar to present, that is.”
Annok-sur nodded agreement.
Both women knew it would be easier for the men who made up the council to accept such sweeping new changes if Eskkar proposed them.
The nobles might know that Trella conceived of the ideas, but it would still be more palatable coming from him. And with the Hawk Clan and the rest of the soldiers still solidly supporting Eskkar, the nobles would need good grounds before they dared to object.
“You’ll need more gold, as well.”
“Eskkar will find that, in Bisitun. The upriver trade will make the gold flow in Akkad again. Already goods are moving briskly between Akkad and the south. And the nobles and leading merchants will pay to secure their sons positions in the new Houses.”
“Let’s hope Eskkar returns soon,” Annok-sur said, “and laden with goods and gold.”
“We’ll begin the planning after tomorrow’s council session,” Trella said. “The sooner we start, the better. And we may need to include others to help us. But I’m sure we can do this.”
“More changes for Akkad,” Annok-sur said, shaking her head. “When will it end, I wonder?”
12
Twenty miles east of the Euphrates, and more than a hundred miles south of Akkad, Ariamus cursed the hot sun that beat down on him and his men each day. Then he cursed the high desert where they camped, the lack of water that plagued them, the ignorant louts who whined incessantly, and the clouds of sand fleas that tormented man and beast. Finally he swore at Korthac, though Ariamus kept
that oath under his breath, lest one of the Egyptians who always seemed to be shadowing his steps hear and inform the grim Egyptian. Even though Korthac had saved his life from the vengeful villagers on the edge of the desert, Ariamus found little pleasure in serving his new master, at least so far.
Ariamus would have liked to do more than curse at the two Egyptian subcommanders in the camp, but that, too, would have to wait. Takany, Korthac’s second in command, spoke little, and his eyes expressed no emotion. A brutish man, he maintained tight control of the Egyptians, and they obeyed no order that came from Ariamus without Takany’s approval.
Nebibi, the other Egyptian commander, proved more approachable; he spent more time with Ariamus, talking about Korthac’s exploits in Egypt.
Both had sworn blood oaths to Korthac, Nebibi explained one night after a little extra wine, horrific oaths neither would ever dare to break. Nebibi, at least, understood the need for the new men Ariamus recruited, and did his best to keep the two camps working together. He’d even contributed some of his fighters to help with the training.
Still, Ariamus blamed Korthac for insisting they establish their camp so far away from Akkad and other settlements. Ariamus’s new master demanded a place so distant that no word could reach the city about the growing force hidden beyond the fringe of the desert. Each day the situation grew worse, as the number of men and horses under Ariamus’s command increased.
Demands for food and water also increased daily. The moment he left this cursed encampment behind couldn’t come too soon for Ariamus, even if it meant attacking Akkad’s very walls with his bare hands.
The desolate place chosen for his camp lay well off the usual trails.
Ariamus camped here twice before in his wanderings, each time for but a single night. The high desert might be a little cooler than the hell of sand and wind Korthac had crossed, but not by much. Containing only a few scrub plants and stunted trees growing among the rocks, it had little to recommend it, except for its desolation.
Worst of all, there was no water, which probably explained why wanderers seldom bothered to come near the rocky hills that circled his growing force. One of the first things Ariamus did was establish a work party for a daily trek to the nearest river, more than ten miles away, and had the men haul back as many skins of water as their horses could carry. In one respect he didn’t mind assigning the backbreaking labor. It gave the men something to do, to take their minds off their training and the boredom of waiting for action. Each day, half his troop rode off to gather another day’s supply of water for man and beast. Those not on the water detail practiced their riding, improved their swordplay, tended the horses, and waited. Of course, Takany’s Egyptians didn’t deign to do something so menial as carry water, though they managed to drink more than their share of what arrived in camp.
Ariamus spent most of his time on horseback. With a handful of riders, enough to provide protection without frightening the locals, he rode across the land looking for recruits and horses to add to his band of fighters. He stopped at every village and collection of mud huts too small even for that title. He had gold to offer, gold that first came down the river within a week of Korthac reaching Akkad. More gold arrived each week, payment for the restive force growing under Ariamus, as the Egyptian exchanged ever larger quantities of his gemstones for gold and silver in Akkad.
Korthac’s Egyptians kept control of the gold, making sure that Ariamus used it only to buy men, horses, weapons, or supplies. Not that they needed to watch him. Ariamus was too excited by the prospect of looting Akkad. Nothing would please him more than returning there in power, to take revenge on the shopkeepers and merchants who had ordered him about for so many years. They would bow before their former captain of the guard soon enough.
In the initial planning with Korthac, Ariamus had been more than a little skeptical that their forces could capture and hold the city. But with the reports coming from Akkad, he soon began to change his mind. Eskkar, the ignorant barbarian, had split his forces, and if he remained out of the city, Ariamus believed they would have a good chance to capture the Akkad. Each week Ariamus’s force grew, as he enticed more local bandits, wanderers, and even raw farm boys desperate for any means to escape the endless drudgery of a farmer’s existence.
A shortage of horses plagued Ariamus, but down here, far south of Akkad, the passage of the Alur Meriki had caused little damage to the land and livestock. In this part of the country, marauders and other, smaller clans of barbarians had taken their toll, but most farms and villages had survived intact. Horses remained scarce, but not impossible to get, if you were willing to scour the countryside and pay more than their worth in gold.
Or steal them. Twice he’d ridden into small farm holdings at night, killed the men, and taken their horses. He preferred not to do it, as Korthac didn’t want to inflame the countryside against them, lest word reach Akkad. Nevertheless, Ariamus needed horses for his fighters. Korthac’s plan demanded them. So Ariamus gathered every mount he could find, at the same time as he trained his men to ride and to fight.
Not that most of this rabble would ever become true fighters or horsemen, not in these few weeks. But if they could swing a sword and ride a horse, Ariamus asked little more. The rest, those who survived the coming battle, would have plenty of time to improve their fighting skills in Akkad.
He heard hoofbeats and looked up to see a rider coming toward him, raising a cloud of dust and no doubt stirring up another wave of sand fleas. Ariamus stood outside his tent until the outrider galloped up.
“Ariamus! Four riders are coming in. I think one of them is Hathor,” the man shouted, as excited as a boy taking his first woman.
“Get back to your post, you useless piece of crap,” Ariamus ordered.
“Of course he’s coming. We’ve been expecting him for two days.”
By then the party appeared, crossing the hilly skyline, four men riding toward the camp. Ariamus didn’t intend to stand there waiting in the sun, so he went inside his tent. The visitors would want water and care for their horses before they got down to business. Korthac had dispatched his third subcommander, Hathor, the last two times as well. Upon arriving, he might want to count all the men, the horses, and even the cursed weapons. And, of course, count up all the gold expended.
Ariamus had to admit that these Egyptians were thorough. Korthac wanted every man well fed, well armed, and trained in how to use a sword.
And be able to use it from horseback. Korthac had stressed that point. Not many of his Egyptians could fight from horseback; they preferred to fight on foot. What Korthac demanded from Ariamus was a troop of horsemen that could be used to sweep the countryside. Those same mounted fighters would prevent the city’s inhabitants from fleeing their new master, at the same time as they gathered up new recruits, willing or unwilling.
Two weeks ago, when Hathor came downriver the first time, he’d told Ariamus how Eskkar had split his soldiers and scattered them over the countryside. That made the horsemen Ariamus trained even more important, as they might have to engage more than one enemy, and one possibly spread out over the land.
On his last visit, Hathor had even dared, in Korthac’s name, to inspect the Egyptians, to see them practicing their swordsmanship, and their physical readiness. Hathor “asked” Takany to stage some mock fights with sword and knife; Hathor watched as both the Egyptians and Ariamus’s men went through their drills, or charged back and forth waving their swords and shouting their war cries.
Takany’s dour face had flushed a darker shade than normal at the insult, but he’d said nothing. The more than fifty Egyptians in the camp trained nearly every day, practicing with sword, axe, and knife, and they impressed Ariamus with their skill. He’d never seen better fighters, certainly not in that number of men. He had no doubt that, in a pitched battle, they would defeat an enemy two or three times their number. But Korthac also knew he couldn’t hold Akkad without horsemen, and that’s where Ariamus intended to impress
his new master.
With a little luck, Ariamus would soon be second in command. Already he had the larger number of fighters reporting to him. That would naturally elevate him above the Egyptian subcommanders, even Takany, because Korthac, once Akkad was taken, would need Ariamus more than he needed his own forces. Besides, plenty of Egyptians were going to die taking the city, which would strengthen Ariamus’s position. With a little more luck, Korthac might get killed himself. That would put Ariamus in command, since without Korthac, even hardheaded foreigners like Takany and Nebibi would realize they needed someone from this land if they intended to rule here.
If all went as Korthac planned, then Ariamus would have plenty of time to think about getting rid of Korthac. The Egyptian had taught Ariamus how to play the game, but the pupil intended to rise above the master, even if it took a year or two.
The first step was to court the Egyptian subcommanders. Takany was hopeless, but Hathor and Nebibi would see reason soon enough. Hathor was the lowliest of the three who served Korthac as subcommanders, but the one chosen for all the more difficult tasks, or whenever Korthac needed someone with more wits than brawn. The Egyptian obviously wanted men about him that he could trust, but none too sharp in the head, lest they get ideas of their own. As captain of the guard in Akkad, Ariamus had done the same himself, making sure his subcommanders followed orders without asking too many questions, let alone doing any thinking.
In some ways, Eskkar had been the perfect subcommander. A friend-less loner, he kept his mouth shut and obeyed orders, spending as much time as he could away from the village, caring for the horses, and chasing after runaway slaves and petty thieves. Once again, Ariamus wondered how such an insignificant barbarian outcast had ever managed to seize control of Akkad.
Nevertheless, Ariamus didn’t have time to daydream about such things now. He needed to hear the latest news from Hathor, and by now Takany would be waiting for him to come to his tent. Ariamus would have to swallow his pride once again and defer to these cursed foreigners. But not for long, he vowed. Not for long.
