by Sam Barone
“We just learned from Yavtar that the Sumerians were responsible. I wish you had stayed in Akkad, at least until we knew more about what you might face.”
They reached the open doorway to the house, but instead of entering, Eskkar took her by the hand and guided her across the courtyard. A second structure there held six good-sized rooms in a row, each with its own entrance. Four were occupied by sixteen Hawk Clan soldiers who guarded Eskkar’s house day and night. The other two were for guests who needed a place to stay.
“I’ve something to show you.”
As they approached, Grond appeared from the last doorway, ducking his head under the low opening. “Ah, Lady Trella, it’s good to see you.”
“My thanks to you once again,” she said, “for bringing my husband home safe and sound.”
“Bring out our guest,” Eskkar said.
Grond ducked back into the house and returned in a moment, half-dragging a man behind him. A hard shove, and the prisoner fell to the ground at Trella’s feet.
“And this is . . . ?”
“King Eridu of Sumer, as he now calls both himself and his city,” Eskkar answered. “He planned to lure us into a trap and kill us all, but we managed to avoid his snare and set one of our own.”
Eridu looked up at them. He appeared weak and dazed. His eyes gazed around the courtyard without comprehension.
Trella called out for someone to bring a light. Soon a servant arrived and held a crackling torch above Eridu’s head. She stared at him for a long time, studying his face, then reached out and touched his cheek with the back of her hand.
“He’s burning up with fever. And what happened to his hand?”
“I cut it off,” Eskkar said, “as punishment for trying to steal our land. I offered him a chance to fight me, but he refused, so I thought this would be a fair payment for his greed. He’s also promised to pay a ransom of eight hundred gold coins. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut off more than his hand next time.”
Trella leaned forward and inspected the burned and blackened stump. “I’ll send for the healer, to attend his wounds.”
Eskkar shrugged. “I’d let him take his chances with the gods, but I suppose his kin won’t pay for a dead man.”
He clasped Trella around the waist and turned her back toward the house. “Enough time to talk to Eridu in the morning.”
“I’ll send the healer over.” Grond lived only a few houses from Ventor, the only healer Eskkar trusted. “I’ll return in the morning, Captain.”
“I’m sure Tippu awaits your return,” Trella said. Tippu and Grond had married two years ago, and she now carried his child.
Inside the house, Eskkar and Trella mounted the stairs and entered the workroom. At night, one corner was used as a nursery for Sargon. Trella always wanted her son close by, should he need anything. A servant girl sat beside the tiny bed and its sleeping occupant. She would remain awake all night, to make sure no harm came to the boy. Too many babies died in their sleep, and Trella had no intention of letting Sargon suffer that fate.
Despite his weariness, Eskkar paused a moment to look down at his sleeping son. “Sargon seems to have grown again,” he whispered. He reached down his hand and gently touched a finger to the boy’s soft cheek.
“I doubt he’s grown much in the last fifteen days,” Trella said, keeping her voice low. “Come, let him sleep. He’ll be chasing you everywhere in the morning.”
“In the morning I’ll take him down to the river with me. He likes to splash in the water.”
They went into the bedroom, and she closed and barred the door. When she turned around, he took her in his arms and held her tight, almost crushing her against him.
“You’ve grown, too, my wife,” he said, running his hands up her arms. “You’re even more beautiful than when I left you.”
“We should talk, Eskkar. I want to know what happened. Eridu . . . how . . . ?”
“Later. And only if you please me greatly.” His hand brushed against her breast, and he felt her nipple harden at his touch.
Her eyes closed for a moment. “Perhaps you should think about pleasing me,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “Once again, you left me alone while you went off to fight.”
“Perhaps I will.” He kissed her, gently at first, then harder as his passion grew. Soon he lifted her dress up over her head, then pulled his own tunic off. “Each time I see you, I want to feel myself inside you.”
She swayed against him, and he heard her quick intake of breath. He clasped his hands around her waist, holding her tight. Eyes closed, Trella lifted her head, her lips parted. He kissed her again, this time a kiss full of passion and promise. Eskkar moved one hand to the small of her back, enjoying the curving flesh, while the other lifted to cup her breast, squeezing it gently until she gasped in pleasure.
“I missed you, Eskkar.”
“I promise to make up for it,” he said, his voice husky with lust, the tiredness of the long ride to Akkad forgotten.
Then he had no more words. He scooped her up as easily as she lifted Sargon, and deposited her on the bed. She arched her back under his touch, and slipped her arms around his neck.
“We can talk later,” she breathed into his ear. “Try not to wake Sargon.”
“You’re more likely to wake him than I am.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I’ll try not to cry out.”
“Don’t try too hard,” he warned her. “I’ve been gone a long time.”
8
Two days later, just before the sun reached its height overhead, a small procession wended its way out of Akkad’s river gate. The party walked along the path that followed the riverbank for half a mile, then traveled across the fields to the sprawling farmstead owned by Rebba, one of the nobles who helped rule Akkad. Though the nobles had lost some of their authority after Eskkar’s rule commenced, they still retained much influence, and ruling the city without their support would have made that task even more difficult. With this new challenge to Akkad’s future looming, both Eskkar and Trella knew that the nobles’ advice and consent would be critical.
Noble Rebba and his family owned several large farms, which made him the wealthiest farmholder in the lands close to Akkad. His crops and herds contributed much to the city’s prosperity, and its inhabitants respected both his wisdom and courage. In the fight against Korthac, Rebba had gambled his life and that of his family on Eskkar’s behalf.
Rebba’s farm lay less than two miles north of Akkad and along the Tigris. Eskkar and a small force of soldiers had landed their boats there two years ago. He’d raced down the river from the village of Bisitun to recapture Akkad from the Egyptians who had seized both the city and Trella.
Trella and Eskkar led the way toward Rebba’s holdings, accompanied by Grond, Gatus, Bantor, Alexar, Hathor, Mitrac, Yavtar, and Klexor. Annok-sur walked behind Trella. Though Annok-sur had no official duties, everyone knew she controlled the large network of spies and informers that Trella had established throughout the city, the surrounding countryside, and even in distant villages. Many considered her the third most powerful personage in Akkad, after Eskkar and Trella. Six guards accompanied the group, one of them leading Eridu by a rope tied around his neck.
The distance made for a pleasant walk in the open air, surrounded by breezes from the river and the clean scent of crops growing in the fields. Rebba had constructed a half dozen small footbridges over the intervening canals, which carried vital water to his fields. Travelers to and from his farm and Akkad no longer needed to splash through the muddy canal waters to reach their destination.
A small pack of dogs began barking as the group approached the farmhouse, but a servant quickly chased them away, reassuring the animals that the new arrivals meant no harm either to them or their master. Nevertheless, the half-wild creatures kept a watchful eye on the visitors as they walked past, and Eskkar heard their low growls.
The little cavalcade reached the main house, which was not
much larger than the other half dozen structures surrounding it. They didn’t enter. Instead they moved around to the rear, where they found the rest of the gathering waiting for them in the shade of two willow trees. Branches formed a green canopy overhead that blocked most of the sun’s rays. Whenever a breeze sprang up, the leaves rustled and sighed in a distinct voice, depending on the direction of the wind.
Rebba had gathered three tables and placed them end to end. Another table off to the side held wine, ale, bread, water, and fresh fruit, enough to satisfy any hunger until the main meal would be served just as the sun went down.
As the host, the Noble Rebba sat at the head of the table, his cousin Decca sitting beside him; Decca had sponsored many of the craftsmen and small shops which served Akkad’s inhabitants. Nobles Nicar and Nestor, who helped rule the city before Eskkar and Trella took control, had also taken seats. Noble Corio, the newest member of the ruling group, was the artisan who constructed Akkad’s walls; he sat beside Yavtar and faced Nestor and Nicar across the table.
When Eskkar and his party arrived, everyone took time to greet and welcome each other. All the leaders of Akkad, all the men of importance to Eskkar’s rule were there, with the exception of Sisuthros who governed the large village of Bisitun to the north. There hadn’t been enough time to summon him. Under Eskkar’s authority, these men made all the decisions that governed the daily lives of the thousands of people in Akkad.
At last everyone settled in, leaving only the guards and Eridu standing a few steps away. Eskkar took his place at the opposite end of the table, facing Rebba. Trella sat at her husband’s right hand, while Annok-sur occupied a stool just behind her. Gatus and the other commanders occupied benches on either side.
“Noble Rebba,” Eskkar began, “I thank you for welcoming us to your house. In this heat, to gather so many inside Akkad’s walls would have meant a long, hot day. And I want to thank you for offering to guard Eridu. Trella believes that his wound will heal faster here than in Akkad. He’s promised to pay eight hundred gold coins for his ransom, so we need to keep him alive. A Sumerian river trader arrived in Akkad from the north yesterday, and we entrusted him with the task of delivering the message to Sumer and Eridu’s family.”
All eyes turned to the Sumerian. Eridu appeared pale and weak, his tunic dirty and his feet bare, nothing like the ruler of a mighty city. His fever had broken, but bandages covered his right forearm, a yellowish stain marking the end of his stump.
“So this is King Eridu,” Corio said, “who wanted to bring war and destruction to Akkad.”
Elevated to his position as a result of Eskkar’s rise to power, Corio could seldom restrain his impatience with what he called the old ways. He’d built the wall that had saved Akkad from the barbarians two years ago, and now directed the massive effort to raise newer, stronger, and higher ramparts around the expanded city that continued to grow faster than anyone thought possible. He never hesitated to speak his mind. As Trella once remarked, you always knew what Corio was thinking.
Eridu lifted his head and let his eyes take in the leaders of Akkad, but he said nothing. After a moment, he returned his gaze to the ground.
“He doesn’t have much to say, does he?” This time the comment came from Nestor. “I owned two of the farms your men ravaged. One of my cousins is missing, probably dead at your hands. What do you know about those raids?”
“Answer him,” Eskkar ordered.
Eridu’s lips trembled at Eskkar’s words, and his eyes revealed a glimpse of the hatred the Sumerian possessed. But fear overcame his hatred, and he knew better than to disobey Akkad’s ruler. “I know nothing of your cousin. Many bandits raid the land on both sides of the border. I accompanied my soldiers to drive them off.”
“You marched three hundred men on foot, from Sumer to well north of the Sippar river, to chase after your own horsemen,” Eskkar said. “Did you intend to follow them all the way to Akkad?”
“We were preparing to return when you attacked us.”
“He thinks we’re fools,” Corio said. “Perhaps we’d be better off separating his head from his body.”
“King Eskkar has promised to return me to Sumer when the ransom is delivered,” Eridu said, a trace of defiance in his voice. “Eight hundred gold coins. A boat took the request south this morning.”
“It’s not too late to change our minds,” Eskkar said. “So I’ll give you a choice. Tell us the truth, or I’ll cut off your other hand. Your kin can feed you and wipe your ass for the rest of your life. I’m sure it’s a duty they will look forward to.”
Eridu’s eyes widened. A glance at those seated at the table convinced him. Stony eyes showed not a trace of mercy. Not one would utter the least word to stop Eskkar from carrying out his threat. Eridu swallowed nervously. “What do you want to know?”
The story came out with a little prodding, none of it new or surprising. Sumeria needed the land, the cities in the south had a rightful claim to it, Eridu was merely carrying out the will of the people. After a while, the questions died out. The king of Sumer had wanted fresh lands and the glory of a conquest. Nothing more really mattered.
Eskkar nodded to Eridu’s guards. “Take him away. Rebba’s servants will show you where to put him.”
“I still think we should kill him,” Nestor said, when Eridu was led around the side of the house. “When he gets back, he’ll just start preparing for war all over again.”
“I think it’s best to let him go,” Eskkar said. He and Trella had discussed Eridu only last night. “Better to have an incompetent fool ruling in Sumeria. If he ends up dead, we may find ourselves facing someone worse.”
“And the gold will be useful to compensate those who lost their farms,” Nicar said. “The question now is, what are we going to do? The lands of Sumeria, including the six cities, possess four or five times as many people as we do, maybe more, and their wealth, taken together, is far greater than Akkad’s. If they stand united, and are determined to wage war against us, we could be facing a long and bitter struggle just to survive.”
“Our southern border stretches from the Euphrates to the Tigris,” Gatus said, “and then follows the Sippar river to the east. That’s close to two hundred miles from one end to the other. It will be impossible to defend it all.”
“You can’t patrol a border area with archers,” Alexar added. “We’ll need horsemen, and plenty of them.”
“There aren’t enough horses in the land for that,” Rebba added “And the expense of maintaining so many animals . . . Eridu’s gold will be long gone before you have a tenth of what you need.”
Raising and maintaining good horseflesh took gold, and plenty of it. Corrals had to be built, cleaned, and maintained. A horse went through large quantities of grain and grass each day, and needed to be exercised as well. Then each beast had to be trained to fight, to charge ahead when its instincts made it want to falter or turn aside. That required skilled riders who understood horseflesh, who could teach both men and animals how to form a battle line, charge the enemy, and run a man or a horse down. It all took time. Even in Akkad, only the wealthy could afford the luxury of owning a simple riding horse, let alone an animal trained for war.
“Eskkar, you say that Eridu was ready to do battle with your archers?”
“Yes, Nicar. His men had a large number of shields, and even more javelins. The shield-bearers expected to charge our archers, supported by the javelins, until they could close the distance.”
“And do you think this tactic would have worked?”
The table went silent for the first time, and every eye lifted to Eskkar.
“Yes, I think it would have succeeded. As long as they could close with us quickly, it might have worked. We were greatly outnumbered. Even if we drove them off, our losses would have been heavy. Without shields of our own, the javelins would have been deadly to our men. A few breaks in the line, and the enemy could have poured through and overwhelmed us.”
“So our arche
rs will not be able to overcome superior numbers, is that what you’re saying?”
Eskkar poured some water into his cup and took a sip, using the moment to gather his thoughts. “Not necessarily. Our archers are well trained. We pick only those men strong enough to bend a bow and empty three or four quivers without weakening. As Gatus can tell you, it takes many months, four to five at least, to harden their muscles. An archer must learn not only how to loose an arrow, but how to gauge the distance, hit a moving target, and stand beside his fellows.”
“When an archer is fully trained, he is a deadly and efficient soldier. But for all that, the archer has his own weaknesses. Unless he’s in a defensive position, he’s vulnerable to surprise attack, night attack, or even attack within close quarters. Outside of a city and its walls, he needs horsemen to scout for him, so that he can prepare to come to grips with his enemy. Archers also need someone to guard their rear. In the fight against Eridu’s men, I had to use our horse boys to watch our backs.”
“So you’re saying our archers are of little use outside the city?” Nicar’s voice held a trace of worry.
“No. What I’m saying is that up to now the archers have been our strongest force. But that will have to change. We need to prepare for a different kind of war, a longer conflict, and we will need new kinds of soldiers.”
No one seemed happy to hear Eskkar’s words, least of all his own commanders. Most of them had trained and fought as archers. Using their bows, they’d won yet another victory over superior numbers, and now they heard their leader say that their efforts might not be enough. The nobles were equally unhappy. A long and drawn out war would be a drain on all of them. Trade would be the first casualty. Already the nobles contributed large amounts of gold to pay for the building of Akkad’s walls, and the ongoing support of the city’s fighting men. In return for that contribution, they expected peace and security for their farms and trading ventures. A protracted conflict with the Sumerian cities would drain much of their wealth, with little to show for it.
