Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga)

by Sam Barone

  “My King, it will take many months to raise and train so many,” Lord Modran protested. “And how will we supply them?”

  Shirudukh frowned at Modran’s question. “There will be time. You will have two years to recruit and equip new men. During that time, you will stockpile whatever supplies and weapons you need, and prepare for the invasion. Then, just before the end of the harvest, we will invade.”

  Jedidia considered the time span. The main harvest still lay months away. So Shirudukh’s plan meant at least two years. More than enough time to levy and discipline new men, while gathering the many materials needed to wage war.

  “My men will be ready, my King, to march at your command.” For once, Jedidia had managed to speak first.

  “And after your victory, Great King, who will rule these new lands?” Chaiyanar couldn’t keep the anticipation from his voice. “The city of Sumer is reputed to be the wealthiest in those foreign lands.”

  Shirudukh nodded approval at Chaiyanar’s eagerness. “The city of Sumer is indeed a ripe plum, as is Isin. But Akkad is the jewel of the Land Between the Rivers. It is surrounded by fertile land and filled with much wealth. One of you, perhaps two, will rule those cities in my name. And at least one will return to hold the lands of Elam.”

  Jedidia saw Lord Modran open his mouth, then close it. Jedidia, too, resisted the urge to ask who would get what. Whomever their ruler named today would mean nothing. The King would play the three of them against each other for the next two years, until he made his final decision.

  King Shirudukh rose, and one of the slave girls gathered his linen garment and fastened it around his waist. “Come. Let me show you our next conquest.” He strode across the garden to a small table, waving the nearby guards away.

  Jedidia and the others moved to the other side and faced the King. Glancing down, Jedidia saw a map spread over the surface, the four corners held down with small chunks of marble.

  “This is the Land Between the Rivers.” Shirudukh pointed out the two mighty rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates, and the main cities of Akkad, Isin, and Sumer. Then, step by step, the King outlined his plan of attack.

  “There is yet much to learn, of course, and many more details will be needed. But I have already dispatched the first of my spies across the mountains, to gather information, and to smooth the way for our armies. When all is ready, we will work out the details of command, the soldiers needed, and the supply routes. At the start of the campaign, I will move my Palace to the city of Sushan, to be closer to the Great Sea. But until then,” Shirudukh’s voice hardened, “you will tell no one.”

  The King stared at each man in turn, a grim look that warned them not to discuss the invasion with anyone. “With the conquest of The Land Between the Rivers, the size of our Empire will nearly double. These new lands and cities will provide great wealth to the empire. And I intend to take that prize.”

  Jedidia nodded. New battles to be fought, new territory to conquer, and new spoils to gather. The prospect was indeed exciting. With any luck, Jedidia’s own wealth would triple.

  “And who rules the strongest of these cities now, my King?” Lord Modran, always cautious, wanted to know the worst.

  “Akkad is the most powerful city in the Land Between the Rivers,” Shirudukh said. “It is ruled by a northern barbarian, who seized power fifteen years ago. He is said to be dull of wit, and his wife and others rule in his name. Sumer, near the Great Sea, is weak, with only a small army. Isin is warlike, but the smallest of the three cities. Sumer was defeated by Akkad not long ago, and now frets under Akkad’s growing power and influence. Isin, too, has no use for Akkad. Our invasion will give both of them the chance to turn on and destroy their rival.”

  Jedidia had heard of Akkad’s ruler, a common fighting man named Eskkar. Traders claimed he seldom uttered more than a few words, and that one of Eskkar’s wives talked in his place. Against such a weak ruler, if Shirudukh could turn Isin or some of the other cities against Akkad, victory would be assured. No single city, especially with its forces depleted by war with its neighbors, could resist the might of the Elamites.

  “And now, my faithful generals, you may leave and return to your duties,” Shirudukh said, his interest already reverting to his slave girls. “Just make sure your men are ready when I summon you.”

  Jedidia bowed low once again, as did the others, and they slipped out of the garden. Already planning ahead, he wondered how he could turn this opportunity to his advantage. In war, battles sometimes went wrong, and either Chaiyanar or Modran could meet with some mishap that would offer Jedidia the chance to rise above his fellow generals.

  Even more intriguing would be the chance for Jedidia to destroy one or both of them. That would give him more satisfaction than all the gold in Akkad.

  As General Jedidia left the palace grounds, he knew Chaiyanar and Modran would be thinking the same thoughts. Conquering the Land Between the Rivers would provide each one of them an opportunity to get rid of a rival, or at least weaken his standing with the King.

  No doubt Shirudukh had already considered all these possibilities, as always playing his generals against each other, and in so doing, maintaining his own power. As long as they distrusted and contended with each other, none of them had the opportunity to strive for the kingship.

  Still, the next two years, Jedidia decided, would present many chances to increase his personal authority. He would add thousands of skilled fighting men to his forces. And when his rivals marched into battle, anything could befall them. With luck, Jedidia would return from the invasion and destruction of the Land Between the Rivers with even greater triumph and power.

  2

  The summer of 3130 BC, the City of Akkad . . .

  King Eskkar stood at the Workroom window, staring down at the garden courtyard below. The deepening shadows within the Compound’s walls told him the sun had already set. The two willow trees that shaded the house’s private well had spread their branches, and threatened to intertwine. For the last few years the gardener had to trim the topmost branches and boughs, to keep them within the walls.

  As always, living things struggled into existence, grew strong and hearty for a time, then succumbed either to their enemies, fate, or in this case, the gardener’s saw. Men were much the same. They strove for mighty endeavors that often came to naught, despite all their efforts.

  Now, much like the trees that struggled against the gardener’s blade, Eskkar planned a new and dangerous endeavor, but one necessary if the City of Akkad were to continue growing. Once again he would be risking his life against a hardened and steadfast enemy.

  In three days the campaign long planned in secret would begin. Without fanfare, Eskkar and a small contingent of soldiers would ride out of the city, heading northwest. Fewer than a handful knew what he intended, though many had participated in the preparations.

  The myriad and diverse rumors, carefully fed by Trella’s network of agents and spies, had already run their course. Another wearisome training mission, everyone said, as they nodded their heads knowingly. But only Eskkar and a few others knew that barbarian horsemen were once again on the move toward the Land Between the Rivers.

  The barbarian horde, known as the Alur Meriki, traveled in a long migration cycle. This time they returned, after many years, to the northern lands, moving across the foothills of the Zagros Mountains on their journey to the west. Aware of Akkad’s strength and long reach, the Alur Meriki would seek to avoid any direct conflict.

  Nevertheless, there would be numerous raids on Eskkar’s northern border. The barbarian honor code would accept nothing less. And so more than a few villages and countless homesteads would be destroyed, farms and crops burned, people and livestock killed.

  Eskkar had decided the time for barbarian raids had ended. For the last two years, he and Trella had planned for the day when the barbarians returned to the fringes of Akkad’s lands. Many of the people no longer remembered the daring raid that brought the Alur M
eriki within Akkad’s walls during the war with Sumer, but Eskkar had never forgotten. In that battle, the barbarian horsemen had discarded their warrior code and attempted to sneak into the city by treachery.

  This time Eskkar intended to crush the Alur Meriki once and for all, and put an end to their depredations. The fact that Eskkar had been born into that same clan, had lived as one of them until his fourteenth season, mattered not at all.

  Three quick knocks sounded on the open door. Eskkar turned away from the window, to see Annok-sur, his wife’s closest friend and companion, standing in the doorway. Her presence surprised him. She had left the Compound well before dusk, to return to her home a few steps down the lane. Something important must have brought her back.

  “What is it?”

  Before Annok-sur entered, she turned and spoke to the guard at the landing. Then she closed the door.

  “Lord, I need to speak with you about . . . something has come up.”

  Her demeanor told him as much as her words. Tall and sturdily built, Annok-sur’s long hair contained more gray than brown, though she was only a few years older than Eskkar. As leader of Akkad’s network of spies, she held more power than anyone else in Akkad, except for Trella and Eskkar.

  Her husband, Bantor, was one of Eskkar’s top commanders and Captain of the city’s Guard. Despite her responsibilities, Annok-sur seldom let her thoughts or emotions show in her face or manner. Now she seemed hesitant, almost agitated. He waved her toward the table, and she accepted his offer to sit.

  Eskkar sat as well, but not across from her. Somehow facing his friends over the width of the wide table always seemed so formal. Besides, he wanted to see her in the fading light. Over the years, Annok-sur and her husband Bantor had grown into part of Eskkar and Trella’s family. “Something that can’t wait until tomorrow? Should I send for Trella?”

  Trella had gone to visit Hathor the Egyptian, Eskkar’s second in command, and his wife, who had just delivered her third son. Their dwelling, too, was but a short distance away, though in the opposite direction from Annok-sur’s.

  “No, I’m glad that she’s not here. Otherwise, I would have to ask her to leave the room. I gave my word that I would speak to you, and you alone.”

  Eskkar furrowed his brow. Trella had been at his side and involved in every decision for almost fifteen years, and no one stood closer to Trella than Annok-sur. For her to go against that confidence surely meant something serious had arisen.

  “A man called at my house just after dusk. He gave no name, just insisted that he had to speak with me. The guards refused to pass him in, but he persisted. He wore a hooded cloak that kept his face in the shadows. He told the guards he had something urgent to tell me, and that they should give me that message.”

  Annok-sur took a deep breath. “Naturally, I came. The man surrendered his sword and knife, and we spoke in the courtyard. He declined to enter the house. He made sure no one could overhear our words, and he kept his face in the shadow of his hood.”

  “How did you know he didn’t mean to attack you?” Annok-sur had almost as many enemies in Akkad as Eskkar and Trella.

  “No, I sensed that was not his purpose. But I kept both guards close by, just far enough away so they could not hear the man’s softly spoken words.”

  “What did he want?”

  “That’s what surprised me. He wanted me to bring him to you, in secret. He wants to talk to you. No one, he insisted, must know his name or his face, or even that he visited with the king.”

  “You said no, of course.”

  “Yes, but he expected that. He asked me to give you a message. He had a presence about him, a force of will that I found hard to deny. He was very . . . persuasive. He said you would see him when you heard the message.”

  “This stranger seems very sure of himself,” Eskkar said. “What did you tell him?”

  “I refused to carry a message to you without knowing his name. He thought for a moment, then gave me one that he said you would understand, and the message. The name he gave is Master Guide Tarrata.”

  By now, Eskkar’s curiosity had taken control. Tarrata was not an uncommon name, and Eskkar had known several over the years. None that he could recall held any claim on his time.

  He shrugged. “What was the message?”

  “He said,” she paused again, as if to make sure she had the words right, “that he was the man who left you the five silver coins buried beneath the bloody rock along the southern road that leads to Orak.”

  “Ahhh.” Eskkar leaned back in surprise as the memory swept aside the years. Orak was the old name for Akkad. Trella and he had changed the city’s name soon after they defeated and drove off the barbarians more than fifteen years ago.

  Without thinking, he touched the scar on his leg, the wound that had nearly killed him when it became infected. Eskkar had been almost delirious when he limped into Orak for the first time. Now he remembered the name Tarrata well enough. Not just a guide, though. A caravan master as well. Tarrata had died in the same fight against bandits that had left Eskkar with the wounded leg.

  “Describe the stranger.”

  “It was hard to see much beneath the cloak, but he was smaller than I am by a good three fingers.”

  Annok-sur leaned forward. “A black beard covered his chin, and his nose had been broken, I could see that. A faded scar stretched down his right cheek. His complexion seemed dark, and he might have been born in Sumeria. I couldn’t place his accent, but he could have come from the south.”

  It had to be Bracca, the only close friend Eskkar had ever had. He had never told anyone about the coins, and even if someone had gotten the story from Bracca himself, Tarrata’s name likely wouldn’t have come up.

  “Bring him here. Give him back his weapons and bring him here.”

  “Lord, are you sure? At least let me hold his weapons.”

  “No, I can take care of myself if need be. Make sure that we are not disturbed. Find Trella, tell her everything, but ask her to wait downstairs until I summon her.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you trust him?”

  He shrugged again. “After a fashion.”

  Annok-sur waited a moment, until she realized Eskkar didn’t intend to say any more. “Be careful, Eskkar.” She extended her hand and brushed his arm. “You take too many foolish chances.”

  Her concern touched him. Over the years, Annok-sur had become like a sister to him. Her devotion to Trella was beyond question. “I’ll take care.”

  After she departed, Eskkar returned to the window. The ground below now held only darkness. The moon hadn’t risen yet, so the sky displayed the vast spread of stars, like sparkling silver sand flung high across the heavens.

  As the years passed, he spent more time studying the night sky, and often spoke with reputed wise men who claimed to know the secrets hidden from ordinary men’s eyes. Still, Eskkar guessed that they knew little more than the old shepherd whose wisdom first gave the stars meaning to a young and wandering barbarian outcast.

  His thoughts returned to Bracca. Over the years, Eskkar had wondered often enough what had happened to the wily, smooth-talking Sumerian who lived as much by his wits as by his sword. The two of them had met by chance and nearly came to a death fight. Instead, they became companions.

  For almost five years they fought and drank and whored together through good fortune and bad. Both had escaped death more times than Eskkar could call to mind. He remembered his disappointment when Bracca went south with the merchant Aram-Kitchu.

  Eskkar pushed the old memories aside. Whatever evil tidings brought Bracca to the Compound in secret like this meant something truly important had occurred. Otherwise he could just have given his name to the guards at the gate, and been assured an entrance.

  Eskkar went to the wall behind the table. The great sword hung there, not the original he carried defending Akkad against the barbarians, but a finer one that Trella
had ordered made for him two years ago. Beside it hung another sword, a shorter blade much like those used by his soldiers. As finely cast as his long sword, its blade was both wider and a bit longer than the usual short sword the city’s guards and soldiers used. Eskkar carried the smaller one when he moved about Akkad. Its bronze edges were honed so sharp they would cut through bone.

  Pulling the shorter blade from its scabbard, he tossed it on the table. A hanging pouch held sharpening stones, and Eskkar removed one and dropped it beside the sword. Bracca was, after all, Bracca. A devious, dangerous man, he was as liable to do anything for gold as anyone else.

  Almost twenty years had passed since they parted, and that length of time can change a man, even make him forget old loyalties. Once they had been friends, each trusting the other in the face of death, but now?

  Eskkar didn’t intend to take any chances. He stepped out of the room onto the landing, and gave the guard there a series of orders. The man raised his eyebrows at the unusual instructions, but nodded understanding, before he dashed down the stairs to do the King’s bidding. Then Eskkar summoned one of the servants, and bade her bring candles and refreshments.

  Eskkar waited on the landing, gazing down into the house’s Great Room. The thick outer door, still open to take advantage of the evening breeze, led to the main courtyard. It didn’t take long before he heard voices approaching. Then Annok-sur, accompanied by two guards, escorted a man wearing a long cloak into the house. The garment’s hood hid the visitor’s face.

  The stranger glanced around, and lifted his eyes upward toward the stairs. He appeared surprised to see the King there.

  Looking down, Eskkar glimpsed the familiar scar. Despite the years, he recognized Bracca. “Come on up.”

  The man glanced around the Great Room a second time, and started for the stairs. He ascended slowly, and just before he reached the landing, Eskkar turned and stepped inside. The servant was spreading the pitchers of wine, ale, and water on the table. A large platter of dates, nuts, figs, as well as the sweet cakes made of flour, dates, raisins, and butter rested in the center.