by Sam Barone
Grond had five less seasons than Eskkar, though most people thought they were of the same age. “Less than a mile away. Close enough to keep an eye on our camp and count our numbers.”
“Swordplay will carry that far,” Eskkar decided. “Maybe you can swing a blade with Klexor. He’s big enough to make plenty of noise.”
Grond laughed. “Who gets to win?”
Klexor’s stocky body was the largest in Eskkar’s mounted force. Hathor stood a bit taller, almost as tall as Eskkar, but lacked the bulk to his body.
“Decide for yourself. Then you won’t complain afterwards. But let’s start with the men. And send out scouts to the north and west first. That will give you and Klexor time to prepare for battle.”
The hilltops that probably contained the closest enemy scouts lay to the south and east, and Eskkar didn’t want to disturb their vigil by sending outriders in that direction.
Not long afterwards, a fight broke out in the Akkadian camp. A dozen men began pushing and shoving, fists swung, and men staggered to the ground, only to rise again and rejoin the fray. The commanders quickly broke up the quarrel, and the grinning men fell back on the ground, trying to look properly subdued.
Eskkar and Grond looked on with satisfaction at the performance.
“Now you can try your hand with a sword. I’m betting on Klexor.”
“It would be close,” Grond agreed. “But we’ll put on a fight that should send the Sumerians a message.”
“Let’s hope it’s the one we want them to hear.”
3
On the day the Akkadians took their rest, Razrek, the leader of the Sumerian horse fighters, arrived at King Eridu’s camp well after midday. Barrel-chested, with thick arms and muscled thighs, Razrek’s very appearance struck fear into most men. His powerful jaw was half-concealed by a dark beard, and he wore his thick hair in a dozen bristling strands, each one tied with a bit of leather, that reached past his shoulders. For those who heard stories or rumors about his past, Razrek’s deeds frightened them even more than his intimidating presence. He’d fought and killed his way across the length and breadth of Sumeria. Not a rogue in his murderous band dared challenge him to a fight.
Long before Eridu proclaimed himself king of Sumer, Razrek had murdered many of Eridu’s enemies, and Razrek’s killings, aided the ambitious trader in his rise to power. Two years ago, at the height of the battle against the barbarians in the north, Eridu provided Razrek with secret information about a valuable caravan returning from the Indus. Razrek and his band of marauders attacked and robbed the caravan, leaving no survivors. The loot from that one raid had doubled Eridu’s wealth and soon enabled him to dominate every other powerful merchant in Sumer. Many suspected what had happened, though only a handful of men knew the true story, and none of them dared say anything.
Today Razrek rode into camp bringing with him a dozen veteran riders, all heavily armed and wearing leather helmets and vests. He guided his horse carefully toward King Eridu’s tent, his eyes studying the large force of foot soldiers taking their ease. The king had made camp just north of the River Sippar, but well to the east of the usual crossings. Though early in the day, at least a dozen cooking fires sent smoke trails into the sky, and the smell of roasting meat permeated the air. That brought a grimace to Razrek’s face. If they were his men, he’d have them working up a sweat training with their weapons, instead of worrying about their suppers.
Glancing around, Razrek saw more than three hundred men, most sitting or stretched out on the ground. As would be expected, those who could still afford to do so occupied themselves by gambling for whatever coins or belongings they possessed.
A strong force remained on guard, ready to repel any surprise attack from the Akkadians, and Razrek grunted in satisfaction at seeing that. He’d warned Eridu often enough to keep his men prepared and to continue at every moment with their training, but as the Sumerian king extended his sway over the land, he tended to bristle at his troop commander’s suggestions.
Not that Razrek cared what Eridu thought of him or his ideas. Razrek cared only for the gold that Eridu paid him, with the promise of much more to come after the Akkadians were driven back north and the borderlands seized. For as much as Eridu was paying him, Razrek could ignore some of the man’s pride and foolishness.
A large tent, the only one in the camp, sat near the edge of the encampment, close to a bubbling stream. Half a dozen soldiers guarded the tent’s billowy walls and four horses picketed nearby. Razrek dismounted and tossed the halter to one of his men.
“I won’t be long.” He strode toward the tent flap, where two soldiers stood guard, one on each side. For a moment Razrek thought they might try to stop him, but one look at his brutal face and powerful frame convinced them otherwise. Razrek was, after all, the second in command. He shoved the tent flap aside.
Inside, King Eridu of Sumer rested on a cushion, two naked girls kneeling beside him offering him food and wine, among other things. A pleasant scent lingered in the air, some perfume that must have come from the distant eastern lands. Tall and thin, with a prominent nose, Eridu looked more like the merchant he once was rather than a warrior king. His reddish brown tunic, edged with an intricate design stitched on the collar, was bunched up around his waist. One of the girls held Eridu’s rod in both hands, brushing her breasts against its tip. The second offered up a small platter containing dates and grapes for her master’s consideration. Eridu spit out some grape seeds and glanced up in annoyance at Razrek’s interruption.
“You should not enter my tent without permission.”
“We’re not in Sumer, my king. On the war trail such rules are best left behind.”
“We will return to Sumer soon enough, Razrek.”
The veiled threat was plain enough, but Razrek ignored it. “If I offend you, my king, I can take my leave. I’m sure my horsemen and I can find another leader to serve. Perhaps we could offer our services to King Eskkar. It’s said that he, too, possesses much gold.”
Eridu bit his lip. Razrek’s horsemen were Eridu’s most efficient force, not to mention the threat that had convinced the other cities to cooperate with the king of Sumer or have their lands ravaged. He took but a moment to swallow his pride.
“Leave us,” Eridu commanded, shoving the girl away from his penis. She snatched up her clothing and ran from the tent, the other girl following. He pushed his tunic down over his still swollen member.
“What brings you here, Razrek? Aren’t you supposed to be readying your attack on the Akkadians? Or have they turned back already?”
As soon as both girls were gone, Razrek sat down facing Eridu, hitching his sword across his lap as he settled himself.
“That’s why I’ve come, to tell you what’s happening, and to make sure you’re ready to move against them.”
Razrek had sent a rider to Eridu’s camp this morning with word that Eskkar and his soldiers had ceased their march south. That inactivity continued to bother Razrek all morning, and he decided to report to Eridu himself, to make sure that the king of Sumer understood the import of Eskkar’s action, or lack thereof.
“The Akkadians show no intention of breaking camp. They’re resting their men, and the few scouts they sent out all rode to the north and west. That might mean they intend to move out to the north-west. This morning, a quarrel broke out among the soldiers. Not long after, another fight started, with two men hacking at each other with swords. The commanders had to break it up. My scouts could hear the shouting and clash of swords.”
Eridu shrugged. “They could have been training. But all the better for us if they argue amongst themselves,” he said with satisfaction. “That will make my victory even easier.”
Razrek didn’t bother to point out that it was his horsemen that kept Eskkar’s forces from smashing Eridu’s foot soldiers, more than half recruited or conscripted in the last few months. The Sumerian king still didn’t fully understand the importance of trained and experienced fighting me
n in a battle. A merchant first and last, he believed that numbers were more important than skill and discipline, despite all of Razrek’s efforts to convince him otherwise.
“Yes, my king,” Razrek said, trying to be patient. “But this staying in one place is not what I expected from Eskkar. He’s a barbarian who believes in closing with his enemy or giving way. That is the way the Steppes horsemen fight. They attack when they have the advantage in numbers, or retreat when the situation is unfavorable to them. When Eskkar does neither, then I worry.”
Eridu selected a plump date from the platter beside him. He didn’t bother to offer any to his visitor. “Eskkar’s men are tired. Perhaps he is just resting them before he decides to retreat. We can wait one more day. Without food, he can’t stay where he is, while we have plenty of supplies. And if he comes south, he falls into our trap. The chosen battleground is but a half day’s march from here. By midday tomorrow, I’ll be there waiting for him. Once he enters that valley, we will destroy him.”
Razrek hesitated. Eridu’s words made sense, but still Razrek felt uneasy. “It may be as you say. But I came to warn you to stay vigilant. Keep your men ready for anything. Eskkar is cunning, and by now he may even know about your presence. Still, if the Akkadian doesn’t start moving tomorrow morning, I will try and engage his horsemen, to see if I can lure them away from the archers.”
“My men are keeping a close watch to the north. I’ll double the men on watch tonight. We won’t be surprised, Razrek, you can be certain of that. And I’ve trained them hard enough these last few days.”
While you took your ease with your women, Razrek thought. “Then my doubts are resolved, my king. I’ll send word in the morning as soon as I see which way he’s moving.”
“Good. If Eskkar continues to come south, we’ll meet him at the ambush site. If he decides to return to Akkad, you will have to slow Eskkar down until my soldiers can fall on him from behind. By then his men will be growing weak from hunger. The sooner we finish the barbarian off, the quicker I can claim these lands and get back to Sumer.”
Razrek rose. “Of course, my king. I’ll return to my men, and leave you to your pleasures.”
He gave Eridu a brief bow and swept from the tent. Outside, Razrek found his second in command, Mattaki, frowning at Eridu’s guards while he waited for his commander.
“Anything new?” Mattaki handed Razrek the halter.
“No, but at least I’ve warned him. He’ll start moving north in the morning, which should be safe enough. He’ll still be at least a good day’s march from the Akkadians, maybe more, unless he learns how to drive his men faster. Eridu should have brought his son with him. The men would fight harder for the son than the father.”
“Isn’t Shulgi too young for this? That’s what Eridu said.”
“Shulgi has almost seventeen seasons,” Razrek said. “He helped recruit and train most of these men. And he knows how to swing a sword, which is more than Eridu can say.”
“So why didn’t he bring him?”
“And risk sharing the glory? If Eridu beats Eskkar, he can claim to be a great warrior king. With Sumer and control of the river under Eridu’s thumb, and the border area opened up, all the other cities will fall to their knees and accept his leadership. That’s why Eridu wants this victory so bad he can taste it.”
“While we do all the work and take all the risks,” Mattaki said, spitting on the ground.
“That’s what you’re getting paid for. Besides, we outnumber Eskkar’s forces almost four to one. Even if we lose half our force crushing him, we’ll still come out with plenty of gold.”
“And we can always recruit more men,” Mattaki said. He received a share of the gold Eridu paid for each new farm boy eager to become a soldier.
In a moment both men were back on their horses, and Razrek led the way as they galloped through the camp, heedless of Eridu’s soldiers, who were forced to leap out of their path.
Nevertheless, Razrek couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He’d spoken to anyone and everyone who’d ever been to Akkad or knew anything about Eskkar. This inactivity didn’t fit the barbarian’s history. Attack or retreat. It was the only tactic the northern warriors knew, and the only ones Eskkar had ever used. If the barbarian didn’t start moving tomorrow, Razrek would launch an attack on Eskkar’s cavalry, force his hand somehow. Razrek knew how important it was to keep Eskkar off-guard and his men on edge, even if Eridu didn’t.
The king had conveniently forgotten that it was Razrek who had planned this whole campaign months ago. And so far everything had gone as he envisioned. The border raids helped train Razrek’s horsemen, even as they looted the countryside and Razrek grew rich in the process. Word of the attacks brought Eskkar rushing south, and the staged retreats drew him ever closer to the ambush site. Another day’s march south, and the Akkadians would be destroyed. King Eridu would rule all of Sumeria and its surrounding lands, and Razrek would earn all the gold he’d been promised.
Nevertheless, Razrek fretted. With so much at stake, he didn’t dare wait any longer. If the barbarian didn’t start moving, Razrek would attack Eskkar’s forces, and either drive him south for the quick finish, or follow his retreat north for the slow death. Either way, the Akkadian force would be destroyed, and with a little luck, their king would be among the first to die.
4
After taking a full day and night of rest, the Akkadians collected their horses and weapons, and prepared to move out. Scouts galloped off in all directions, but stayed close to the main force of archers. Eskkar didn’t want to offer any tempting targets to the enemy horsemen. As long as the riders stayed within easy reach of the bowmen, they should be safe enough.
Before the Akkadians could begin the march, pushing and shoving broke out among the ranks. Instead of restoring order, Hathor and Alexar began arguing, their voices rising until they stood face to face, shouting at each other. Hathor struck Alexar in the chest with his fist, and the two men grappled. Soldiers shouted encouragement to their respective commanders, and a ring of cheering and shouting onlookers formed around them. Both commanders drew their swords. The clash of bronze against bronze once again echoed out over the grassland, as the two fighters weaved and shifted. Eskkar let the performance go on for a dozen strokes before he halted the brawl, stepping between the two and shoving them apart.
Raising his voice, he rained down abuse on both combatants, to the cheers and shouts of the men. The noise from the brief swordplay would have alerted any spies watching their camp, and Eskkar’s bellows would have carried almost as far. The Sumerian scouts would report a second day of continued dissension in the Akkadian ranks. Satisfied, Eskkar ordered his commanders to break camp, and get the soldiers moving.
Hathor and Klexor split the thirty horsemen between them and moved out ahead, screening the archers. They headed north, back the way they came. Alexar and the bowmen followed, the leaders of ten moving up and down the column of soldiers as they marched, reminding them to look weary, as if they’d already been beaten in a fight. Eskkar ordered a steady pace, but he rested the men much more often than he had in the last eight days. At mid-morning they turned off their own tracks, and headed westward, taking a different path than the one they’d followed when chasing after the bandits.
With Grond at his side, Eskkar now led the way at the head of the archers. The countryside here wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. His horsemen had scouted the countryside yesterday, and some of the archers and riders had lived in these lands before moving to Akkad. As the first of his scouts reported back, Eskkar listened to each report, and he picked the next part of the march with care. The survival of his soldiers might depend on the path he chose through the hills and valleys that led to the west.
Not long after the Akkadians turned westward, enemy horsemen appeared brazenly on the hills behind them, as if tempting the retreating force to turn and give chase. Eskkar ignored them, determined to avoid wasting his men’s strength pursuing riders wh
o simply rode away. His main worry this morning remained the possibility of an ambush. Sooner or later, the Sumerians would get in his path, and attempt to halt his force. Hopefully his change of direction westward would keep them off balance for the rest of today.
At midday, Eskkar gave the order to halt beside a small stream, and the men sank to the ground while they ate stale bread. Some removed their sandals and soaked their feet in the water, while a few splashed their faces and hands. Eskkar ordered that every water skin be filled. The countryside around them had been stripped bare of food and flocks by the enemy horsemen. Only a few loaves of stale bread remained to fill the Akkadian soldiers’ stomachs. By tomorrow, even that would be gone and real hunger would set in. Nevertheless, Eskkar no longer worried about food. That would soon be the least of his men’s needs.
After a longer than usual break, the Akkadians abandoned the pleasant little stream and resumed their journey. The men trudged through the low hills and sparse grassland. The ground grew a little greener with each step nearer to the Tigris, still a few days’ march away.
When dusk approached, Eskkar gave the order to halt. The campsite didn’t appear very favorable. No stream meandered nearby, just a half-mile-wide expanse of thick grass surrounded by low hills. Nevertheless, the seemingly haphazard choice had been selected with care. It had to serve Eskkar’s purposes as well as his enemies’.
The men still had chores to do before they could rest. Eskkar made sure they collected plenty of wood and chips, and soon crackling fires sent smoke trails skyward, warming the men though they had little to put in their cooking pots. The scouts had seen no game during the day’s march. Eskkar’s marching orders kept the scouts close to the bowmen, and meant they had no opportunity to hunt.
As on the previous night, extra guards were posted, and a strong perimeter established. The last thing Eskkar wanted now was for his enemies to attack in force during the night. Grond brought over a small loaf of bread that he’d soaked in the last stream they crossed. Eskkar took half, and had to force the tasteless mush down.
