by Sam Barone
“Yes. My husband and his kin found the place with the gold a few months ago.”
She told him about the mine, her family, and what evil had overtaken them all. Orodes asked her about the gold, its quality, how they’d extract it, but Calla knew little about such things. Mostly she had cooked the food, and stitched the leather skins into sacks to hold the gold the men gathered.
Frustrated by her lack of useful knowledge, Orodes put his feet toward the fire and went to sleep, ignoring the still-talking soldiers and Tooraj.
In the morning, Orodes felt better. A long drink from the Tigris refreshed him, and he splashed water over his face and neck. He hadn’t slept very well in Akkad since his return, and certainly not during the night before, when he lay down drunk in the lane. Orodes shook his head in embarrassment at the recollection.
Breakfast consisted of bread and dates, and everyone climbed back on the horses just as the sun cleared the horizon.
The rest of the day and night was uneventful. But by mid-morning of the third day, Calla began to point out landmarks. For someone who had known almost nothing about the gold, she certainly seemed to know her away around this part of the countryside. Orodes wondered if her family might have been bandits themselves.
For two days they’d kept the river in sight, but now Tooraj, following Calla’s lead, turned the party westward, and they soon moved into the low hills that overlooked the river.
Orodes frowned as they rode west. His father and his father before him had explored this part of the country many times. None of these hills had ever produced any significant amounts of gold or anything else useful. By midday they’d left the Tigris several miles behind. Orodes decided Calla had led them on a fool’s errand, when she gestured to a barely noticeable opening between two hills. They followed a twisting track of rock-hard ground that led deeper into the hills. Soon enough Orodes looked up to see a steep cliff blocking their way. A blind trail, as anyone could see.
Calla continued toward it, and as they rounded a large boulder, Orodes saw where the cliff face had collapsed, revealing a narrow defile that twisted its way through the heart of the cliffs, until, several hundred paces later, the pathway opened up and revealed a good-sized valley nestled between the hills.
Orodes, riding alone just behind Calla and Tooraj, felt his jaw drop at the sight that awaited them. A stream meandered its way through the center, appearing from one side of the valley and disappearing into the other. Orodes didn’t see any other entrances or exits to this hidden canyon, one full of large boulders scattered about that towered over horse and rider.
He scarcely noticed the ground before him. Instead, he stared at the rocks and jagged cliffs surrounding him. The land had changed completely. The soft hills with their occasional boulders had vanished, replaced by more rugged limestone deposits.
“By the gods,” he muttered, as he looked around. He could almost smell the copper and lead his instincts told him lay buried beneath the surface. Orodes had never seen such a place. Some cataclysm had ripped the earth apart, and thrust these hills upwards, carrying with them all the ores once hidden deep within their depths. It had to be an earthquake, he decided. Only a massive earthquake could shake these hills, and lift the earth in such a fashion. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed it existed, not in these lands.
The party reached the center of the valley, and Calla called out that this was where her family had camped. Orodes ignored her and the soldiers. He rode to the far end of the valley, near where the bubbling water issued from the ground. He slid from the horse and knelt beside the stream. He ran his fingers into the moving water, ignoring the chill. A glint of gold caught the sunlight. Reaching down, he picked up a nugget the size of his thumb, washed clean and pure by the running water.
He tossed it aside, and moved away from the stream. Orodes knelt again, and began digging into the earth, letting the dirt settle through his fingers. He could almost feel the ores, just out of reach. Gold and silver lay buried here, he felt certain, waiting to be taken. But there might be more, much more.
Rising, he slapped the dirt from his hands. Calla and Tooraj and the others stood about two hundred paces away, in the middle of the vale, unloading the horses. Orodes cupped his hands to his mouth. “Tooraj! Come here! Bring my tools!”
His horse had wandered off, not that Orodes cared. He moved toward the base of the hills, where the stream had broken through the rock walls and begun its journey through the little valley. A pool had formed at the water’s entrance, and he splashed through it, ignoring the biting cold on his feet. The sharp chill told him the water came from deep within the earth, forced upwards when the underground river struck the once buried cliffs.
The stream had pierced the limestone wall long ago, breaking off chunks of stone and dumping them into the pool. The rocky fragments had all vanished by now, washed away by the flowing water, but he knew they’d left behind nuggets of lead, copper, iron, and gold, buried not far beneath the silt at the bottom of the pool.
Orodes didn’t bother searching. He knew the ores were here, felt it in his bones. Instead, he concentrated on the rock wall. While working for his uncle, Orodes had often descended deep into the mountain mine, scrambling down the treacherous shafts, going down gallery by gallery, following the threads of ore. He’d stood deep underground while he examined the interior of the mine by the flickering torchlight, following the veins of ore created when the earth and rock were crushed together, often separated by thin, horizontal lines.
Now, studying the rock face before him, those usual horizontal layer lines were gone. Instead, he saw the threads pointed almost directly up to the sky. This once flat earth from deep underground had not only been shoved to the surface, but it had been turned on its side.
The ground beneath his feet might once have been hundreds of paces beneath the earth’s surface, deeper than any miner had ever delved. Orodes realized he might be standing at the bottom of a mine, instead of the top. No miner had ever seen such a sight, at least none that he’d ever heard of.
“What do you want?” Tooraj rode up and dumped the large sack that contained Orodes’s tools onto the ground. “I’m not some servant to come when you call.”
Orodes ignored him. He untied the sack and removed a hammer and chisel. “Set up the camp here, but not too close to the pool.”
“We’re setting up camp in the middle of –”
“Shut up, and do what I say. I want the camp set up here. And tell your men to bring shovels and join me. There’s work to be done now, before it gets too dark.”
Without waiting for a reply, Orodes moved back to the limestone wall beside the stream and began attacking the rock. In moments, the sounds of his bronze hammer striking the bronze chisel began to echo through the valley.
Tooraj, stunned into silence, stared at Orodes. Then he shook his head and rode back to where Calla and the others waited.
Orodes worked without ceasing, his movements quick and sure with his implements. Rock chips flew from the wall, many striking his face and arms. Dust flew into his eyes, but he knew how to lessen that by keeping his eyes half-closed. He forgot about the other members of the party, ignored everything until someone called his name. He turned to find two of the soldiers standing before him.
“You wanted shovels?”
“Where are the rest of the soldiers? I want everyone in the party digging.”
“On guard duty or setting up the camp. Tooraj says we’re all you can have for now.”
He would deal with Tooraj later. Orodes set the two men to work a dozen paces away, after giving them orders to dig down from the base of the wall, until they reached solid rock. Then he returned to his own chipping, digging his way into the face of the rock. He worked steadily, ignoring the weariness in his arms, pausing only to wipe the sweat and dust from his eyes, or to examine some interesting bit of rock. Some of these he tossed aside, but others he deposited on the ground behind him. As he worked, a s
mall pile of gold nuggets and irregular pieces of ore began to accumulate.
“Orodes! It’s getting dark.”
Calla stood beside him. The two soldiers had disappeared, and he realized he hadn’t noticed them leave.
“It’s time to eat,” Calla said. “You need to rest. And Tooraj wants to talk to you.”
Breathing hard from his exertions, Orodes glanced up at the sky. The sun had dipped behind the hills, and already most of the light had gone. He’d worked without ceasing for almost the entire afternoon.
“I’ll come.” His voice sounded hoarse, and he paused to take a long drink from the stream, washing the dust from his throat and careless of the chilly water that streamed over his face and chest. After he’d gotten rid of most of the dirt, Orodes dumped the rest of his tools on the ground, and filled the sack with the nuggets and samples he’d marked for further study.
When he tried to lift it, he could barely swing the sack up over his shoulder. Hunched over, he followed Calla back to the campfire.
“I thought you were going to dig all through the night,” Tooraj remarked as Orodes let the heavy sack fall to the ground near the fire.
The smell of meat cooking in a copper pot assailed Orodes. He hadn’t eaten anything since they’d set out this morning. Calla filled a bowl with stew and handed it to him. He clasped his hands around it, letting the warmth flow through his fingers for a moment, then began eating.
“What orders did Lady Trella give you, Tooraj?” He got the words out between mouthfuls.
The soldier looked at him closely. This wasn’t the drunken youth picked up from Akkad’s lanes, or even the sullen and quiet young man who had ridden north the last two days. Blood spatter marked his upper arm and tunic, and one of his fingers had taken a nasty cut, but Orodes didn’t seem to notice. He had changed the moment he’d arrived at this place. Something in Orodes’s voice now commanded respect. The soldiers noticed it, too, and their conversation ceased as they watched to see how their leader reacted.
“I’m to stay with you a few days, until you’ve had a chance to examine the site and settle in. Then I’ll ride back to Akkad and report to Lady Trella, collect anything else we may need, and return.”
Orodes shook his head and gulped another mouthful from the nearly empty bowl. He’d forgotten the first rule of camping, the last one to take his supper received the smallest portion.
“There’s no need to wait. I already have all I need.” He poked at the sack with his foot. “You and I will return tomorrow, and I’ll give my report to Trella.”
Tooraj frowned at Orodes’s failure to use Lady Trella’s title, but the young man was too busy licking the remains of the bowl to notice.
“But we’ve only arrived. I thought it would take many days before you –”
“I thought so, too. But I was wrong. This place has already told me all I need to know. Now it’s time to return to Akkad, so we can come back here as soon as possible and start mining. If we leave right after dawn, you and I can be in Akkad well before dark on the following day.” He stood and dropped the empty bowl in front of Calla. “Wake me before dawn. I want to be on the move at first light.”
Without another word or glance at anyone around the campfire, Orodes rolled over onto his side, cradled his head on his arms, and closed his eyes.
Tooraj appeared ready to vent his anger, but Calla shook her head.
“Best do as he asks. Lady Trella will know what’s best.”
If Orodes heard her speak, he gave no sign. In a few moments, he started breathing heavily.
Tooraj muttered an oath and stomped off into the darkness, to vent his anger alone.
13
“A map room . . . very interesting. Yes, that would require quite an expansion, if you wished to work with such a large model. With the single entry you want, and to carry the weight of men using it . . . I think it would need special supports, extra beams, a completely new design.”
“Then I’m speaking to the right person, Noble Corio,” Trella said. The two sat alone in the workroom. She had requested a private meeting with Akkad’s master builder to discuss a new addition to the house. “Who else can we turn to when Akkad needs something new and difficult?”
Corio hunched his chair closer to the table, and picked up the slim stick of chalk bound with a rag. A square section of slate, framed with wood and a rope attached to the top, served as his drawing board. An apprentice usually carried the slate around his neck, always ready should his master need his services, but this morning the apprentice waited in the courtyard below, while Trella alone met Akkad’s master builder.
“No need to flatter me, Trella. Let me sketch something while we speak.”
Trella leaned forward, always interested in learning something new. Corio’s nimble fingers belied the silver hair that covered his head. He applied chalk to the slate, and with deft strokes he soon had a rough outline to show.
“We’ll need to build it as a separate structure, almost like a second story with nothing underneath,” Corio said, talking as much to himself as to Trella. “The roof over the rest of the house won’t hold the weight, and the walls weren’t built for it either. So . . . if we sink five or six beams into the ground on either side, we can bridge the house with planks, and use those to support the floor. The walls and roof will need to be wood, no mud bricks, because of the weight. Mmmn. You’re sure you want it up here, right off the workroom? Easier and cheaper to build an addition to the house on the ground.”
“Yes.”
Corio lifted his eyes at the response, the single word offered without any explanation. “It would be more secure up here,” he said, after collecting his thoughts for a few moments. “What you ask can be done, though I don’t think anyone has ever built such a structure before. You’ll need a good supply of various types of lumber, most of which will have to come from the north.”
The land around Akkad boasted plenty of trees, but not the dense and strong wood needed to bear large amounts of weight. All those had to be brought downriver from the forests at the base of the steppes.
“Please use whatever materials you think best, Corio.”
“All those beams will make it expensive. Are you sure? . . . I mean, will you have –?”
“The Map Room will be a great help in preparing for the coming war. We’ll use part of Eridu’s ransom to pay for it. And I’m hopeful that soon a new source of gold will be found. So, spend whatever you need. But the work must begin immediately, and be completed as soon as possible.”
“Mmmn.” Corio continued his sketching in silence for a few moments. “One door, you say, and only a few small windows to provide fresh air. That should make construction a bit easier.”
“No one must be able to hear what is said, or catch a glimpse of what lies inside, Corio. That is most important.”
He pushed the slate across the table. “Support beams on both sides, sunk deep into the ground. I can brace them against the house and each other, for additional strength. When we’re finished, we’ll need to conceal everything with some false walls, to hide the supports. Otherwise your house will be the ugliest in Akkad, and I’m sure you don’t want that. It might be interesting to slant the roof, to allow the rain to run off, and prevent anyone from hiding on top of the structure. That will require more wood, of course. Mmmn.”
Corio understood the need for privacy, always one of the most valuable of commodities for anyone living within Akkad. With so many people and the occasional farm animal jammed together in small rooms only a few paces across, the luxury of speaking without worry of being overheard was both rare and expensive.
“Use whatever you need, Corio,” Trella went on. “Already Eskkar and his commanders have begun the planning, and this work room is not big enough to hold all those who will be needed.”
“I can order the lumber today,” Corio said. “It will take a few weeks to get exactly what I require. Meanwhile, I can divert a few logs from the wall’s construction,
at least enough to get started.”
Trella nodded. “That would be desirable, I think. But that is the next matter that I want to discuss. Work on Akkad’s outer walls must be speeded up. And you must revisit the design. If Eskkar and his men are fighting in the south, your walls may be all that keeps Akkad’s enemies out of the city.”
Corio arched an eyebrow. “It’s almost too late to do anything with the design of the walls. We’ve been working on them for nearly three years.”
The new walls called for heights of almost twenty paces on either side of the main gate. Facing east, Akkad’s primary entrance still remained the most likely approach for any enemy force. The wall there had already been completed, including towers every fifty paces that projected out, allowing archers to shoot down at enemies massing at the foot of the walls. On the remaining three sides, the height of the walls would reach fifteen paces. With a ten-foot ditch ringing the city, the high walls would be unassailable.
“Perhaps nothing significant can be done,” Trella said, “but I want you to think about how we would defend these walls with fewer soldiers and archers. The ditch might be dug deeper. If an attack is imminent, we’ll have hundreds more craftsmen and farmers crowding the city, and I think we’ll need to make use of them to help defend the walls.”
“We’ve changed the plans for these walls at least ten times before we began construction,” Corio said, shaking his head in frustration. “Now you want to add further changes. It must end sometime, Trella.”
“If it were easy, Corio . . .”
He laughed. “I know, then you wouldn’t be asking me. Still, we always assumed we would have hundreds of fighting men to defend us.”
“Two years ago, that was true. Now we worry not about barbarians, but about thousands of Sumerians massing outside the walls. Men with thick shields, with ladders by the hundreds and capable of building ramps as well. Men with skills almost as good as your own, all thinking about ways to force their way into Akkad.”
“Back to the flattery.” He sighed. “Oh, well, I’ll see what I can come up with. Perhaps I’ll have one or two of my sons try to devise ways to break in.”
