by Sam Barone
Eskkar sat before the fire, staring into the flames. Every muscle in his body ached. His right arm still felt numb, and he’d had trouble controlling his horse on the brief ride upriver.
A wine skin lay close at hand, and he’d already finished at least two cups of the strong drink. One more and he’d sleep well tonight, though he’d pay for it in the morning. Right now, it didn’t seem to matter.
Alexar limped up, as weary as any man in the army. He had taken a spear in his leg. Despite that, Alexar had been the first to recognize the black mood that descended over Eskkar after Shulgi’s death. Alexar regrouped the men and organized the brief march north. He slumped to the ground beside Eskkar.
“I’ve got a rough count of our dead, Captain.”
“How bad?” Another grim aftermath of every battle – the dead friends and companions, the wounded who would die later. Eskkar knew there was no escape from Alexar’s tidings.
“About two hundred cavalry dead. Less than fifty archers, and almost half of those died on the boats. The slingers did better than anyone expected. Only forty dead.”
“The infantry?”
“Two hundred and forty dead. Many of the survivors took wounds.”
Including Gatus, who had died with Eskkar’s arms around his shoulders. Eskkar had wept for the old soldier, who had flung his life into the battle to save his line from breaking. At least he died as he would have wanted, standing alongside his men and fighting to the end.
Grond had died as well, overwhelmed by a dozen men after he raised a mound of dead around himself. And probably still struggling to reach Eskkar’s side. Klexor had died, too, riddled by enemy spears when his horse went down almost as the fighting ended. Muta had taken his command when his leader fell. A dozen paces away from where Eskkar sat, Drakis lay wrapped in bandages. Four years ago the man had nearly died fighting in Akkad, and now he was gravely wounded again. He would be on the first boat returning to Akkad in the morning.
The list of dead could have been far worse, Eskkar knew. The gods had favored him once again. Either that, or Gatus’s training had kept most of the men alive, including himself. The slim Akkadian lance had kept Shulgi’s sword at bay just long enough.
Eskkar’s own victory over Shulgi counted for little. Every man watching had seen the younger man wear down his older opponent. In truth, Eskkar had won only by a trick, a desperate gamble that should have failed the first time he tried it, let alone the second. It bothered him that he hadn’t been able to kill Shulgi outright, but staying alive was what counted, not how you did it. Eskkar knew what Trella would say when he told her. “In time they will only remember that you faced the king of Sumer in battle and slew him.”
He would send her word of the victory tomorrow. She’d had her own victory over the Alur Meriki to celebrate. That didn’t matter, either. Only that the city would remain safe and free, and that Sargon would grow stronger every day. The threat from Sumer had been eliminated. Once Eskkar stamped out Kushanna and her nest of snakes, peace would return to the land, at least for a time.
In the morning, Hathor would take the brunt of the cavalry and ride south. Despite today’s victory, Eskkar intended to give Sumer no time to recover, raise more troops, or prepare a defense. Hathor had somehow come through the fighting almost unscathed. His dark Egyptian gods must still be protecting him. He would ravage the lands around Sumer, and seal it off from any river traffic. By the time Eskkar’s army arrived, the city might have already surrendered.
“Drink some more wine, Captain, and get some sleep,” Alexar said. “You need the rest.”
Eskkar glanced up. Alexar’s voice showed his concern. It always surprised Eskkar when others showed honest affection for him. And Alexar had his own wound to prove his courage. At least his commander knew how great the danger had been, and how lucky they were to survive it.
Without stopping, Eskkar emptied the wine cup, tossed it aside, then fell back against the hard ground. More than two years had passed since this war began, but it had finally ended. Once again Trella would be kept busy helping the city recover. Better than anyone, she knew how to heal the wounds in the countryside and in the city. But peace would soothe the pain, and in time, Akkad would grow strong again, with its walls raised ever higher until, like mighty arms, they spread their protection around Trella, their son, and their children yet to come.
Eskkar looked up at the stars blazing overhead. Now he knew what they foretold. Long life for himself and Trella. A son to carry on their line, other descendants who would live through them and through the ages. Most of all, Akkad would grow strong and prosperous again. The empire encompassing all the land between the two rivers would be ruled from Akkad, not Sumer. And that, Eskkar decided before he fell into an exhausted and troubled sleep, made all the fighting worthwhile.
61
In Sumer, the days rushed by, each filled with excitement. The war talk dominated every conversation. Rumors abounded about King Shulgi’s army, its mighty size and power, its rapid march to the north. Everyone spoke proudly of how the other Sumerian cities already acknowledged Sumer’s leadership. Others boasted about the coming destruction of Akkad and the creation of a mighty Sumerian Empire that stretched between the two rivers all the way to the far north.
When word of the fall of Kanesh arrived, the city’s inhabitants celebrated. The fertile fields of the north would soon supply Sumer’s every need, and slaves from the Akkadian lands would abound in the slave market.
Nevertheless, many suffered hardship. With the resumption of hostilities, trading ceased almost at once. Every boat that arrived at the docks was taken into King Shulgi’s service, as the soldiers commandeered every craft. Wine and ale, grain and bread, chickens and herd animals, all were rushed aboard boats and sent north. Since the only vessels moving on the river carried cargoes to support King Shulgi’s army, food supplies within Sumer grew scarce. Queen Kushanna’s men had already emptied the city’s storage places to feed the ravenous army. And still supply caravans departed each day, taking what little remained and collecting supplies along the way.
The shortages caused every merchant to raise prices, though few buyers had enough coins remaining to purchase anything but necessities. Even En-hedu’s massages slowed, as the tight-fisted upper classes, staggering under Kushanna’s ever-rising taxes, ordered their pampered women to cut back. Without a steady supply of ale, business at the Kestrel dropped off as well, and En-hedu and Tammuz suddenly found they had plenty of time on their hands.
Still, the mood in Sumer remained jubilant until the ninth day after the start of hostilities. Late in the afternoon, boatmen returning from Kanesh reported the disquieting news that Eskkar’s army had slipped by King Shulgi’s forces at Kanesh. The Akkadians were reputed to be marching toward Larsa or possibly even Sumer. Before the sun set, word had reached every hut in every lane. Many refused to believe it. For the first time, worried looks appeared on many faces. The city’s soldiers doubled their efforts to strengthen the walls.
A king’s messenger arrived the next day demanding more troops. Half the city’s remaining garrison departed, ordered north to protect the caravans moving supplies. For En-hedu and Tammuz, that resulted in one piece of good tidings – Jarud was promoted to Captain of the Guard. He celebrated with his friends and companions at the Kestrel the next evening.
Three days later, a boat carrying no cargo docked with word of the fall of Larsa. The grim news swept through Sumer. Over the next few days, more reports arrived, many of them conflicting, all of them adding shocking details about the destruction of Larsa. King Shulgi remained in pursuit of Eskkar’s forces, but now that meant little to the city’s inhabitants. Rumors insisted that the Akkadians were on the march to Sumer, intending to tear down the walls and kill everyone within.
The inhabitants started hoarding what little they had. Many shops and stalls in the lanes closed. Dozens left the city, before Queen Kushanna ordered the gates closed. No one was allowed to depart the city wit
hout her permission. The mood in Sumer turned sullen, as hard-eyed messengers from King Shulgi returned and departed, forbidden by Kushanna to speak to any. Desperate people, trapped in the city without any means of livelihood, formed gangs that roamed the lanes at night, searching for anything of value or even food to eat.
The gloom worsened when Sumer learned of the raid on Uruk, the city burned and its inhabitants driven into the countryside by Eskkar’s horsemen, who had magically appeared out of the desert, wreaked their havoc, and disappeared. Everyone agreed that the king of Akkad was a demon from the underworld. How else could his armies be in so many places, and move about unopposed?
Twenty days after the start of the war, horsemen arriving at midday brought word of a mighty battle outside Isin, and the destruction of the Akkadian army. Eskkar’s soldiers had been crushed and the survivors driven into the Euphrates to drown. The welcome news swept through the city like the fresh breeze from the Southern Sea. Smiling and relieved people gathered in the marketplace and outside the queen’s quarters to give thanks, happy to learn that their sons and husbands would soon be returning home victorious over their enemy. En-hedu and Tammuz cheered as loudly as any.
“This is bad,” Tammuz said when they were alone.
En-hedu shook her head. “No, it’s just another rumor. Even if Eskkar were defeated, he would not have let his army be completely destroyed. He’s far too good a fighter to let that happen. Eskkar may have lost a battle, but we mustn’t give up hope yet.”
That evening a good number of customers returned to the Kestrel, eager to drink to the success of Shulgi’s soldiers.
Later that night, as the raucous patrons began to depart, Jarud strode into the Kestrel accompanied by three of his men. En-hedu took in their scowling faces and felt her heart jump, afraid that she and Tammuz had been discovered. But the newly appointed Captain of the Guard called out for ale, and plenty of it, as he slumped onto a bench.
En-hedu carried a pitcher with the last of the night’s brew to the table, and filled everyone’s cups. “You look too serious to be celebrating, Captain. Is anything wrong?”
Jarud downed his ale before replying. “Nothing to celebrate.” He ignored her questioning look for a moment. “Damn all the demons! I just found out . . . you’ll hear the news soon enough.” He lowered his voice. “A handful of soldiers from the north arrived this evening.” He filled his cup. “Not soldiers any more! Rabble. King Shulgi’s army was defeated at Isin. King Naxos and the rest of his traitors refused to fight, and the Akkadian scum caught Shulgi unprepared. Our soldiers broke and ran. Hundreds, maybe thousands are dead, including the king.”
Eyes wide, En-hedu sank down on the bench beside Jarud. “Are you sure? I mean . . .”
“I’m sure. I spoke to some of the scum myself. The army was . . .” Jarud couldn’t find words to describe what he felt.
Tammuz joined them, and she whispered the news to him. It didn’t matter. The remaining patrons needed only a look at Jarud and his companions to guess the worst. Then faint shouts from the lane could be heard. The news had already begun to spread.
En-hedu clasped her hands to her bosom. “The gods preserve us! What will happen now?”
“Who knows?” Jarud shrugged. “Whenever he’s ready, Eskkar will march on Sumer. The last messenger brought news that Isin has changed sides and is now supporting the Akkadians. King Naxos will allow free passage across his lands, the filthy coward.”
“Sumer will not fall,” En-hedu declared. “It’s walls are high . . .”
“Larsa fell, and Uruk, too. The other cities will not come to our aid now. Like Isin, they’ll rush to make their peace with Akkad. On Kushanna’s orders, I sealed the city, to keep everyone within, but that’s not going to work for long. With Eskkar on the march, everyone will want to flee.”
No longer “Queen” Kushanna, En-hedu noted. Just the woman’s name, spoken unflatteringly. “Perhaps things are not as bad as we think. Tomorrow may bring better news.” But in her heart, and for the first time, En-hedu started to believe that Eskkar had succeeded.
She rose and fetched two more cups, and she and Tammuz joined in with Jarud, consuming the last of the ale, and all of them wondering what word would arrive tomorrow.
Just before dawn, Kushanna raged at the wretched soldier cringing before her, his right arm bound in a clumsy sling. A leader of twenty, he’d ridden through the night to bring his news. “My husband is dead? You saw him fall?”
“Yes, my queen. He fought with Eskkar and was slain. King Shulgi fought well, but the barbarian was too strong. Afterwards, the Akkadian king spared my life. He set many of us free, gave us horses, and told us all to deliver word of Shulgi’s defeat and death to you. And to tell you that he is coming to destroy Sumer.”
Of all those given the message, only this man had bothered to return. Probably the others had already disappeared into the countryside.
“And our army? How many men remain to fight? When will they return?”
The subcommander shook his head. “Not many escaped. Sumer’s soldiers fought to the last, even when the other contingents lay down their weapons. However many survived, it will not be enough to stop the Akkadians. They fought like demons, my queen, attacking our men despite their few numbers.”
She cared nothing about how either side had fought. “How long before Eskkar arrives?”
“A few days, four or five at most. I expect his horsemen will be here tomorrow. They were already preparing to ride south when I and the others left. The main force won’t be far behind.”
Kushanna tried to control the sinking sensation in her stomach. How had this happened? How could everything have gone so horribly wrong? Twenty thousand men defeated by a handful? “Get out. All of you, get out!”
She turned away, ignoring them, and stepped onto the balcony. The courtyard appeared different, and she realized that many of the soldiers who should have been standing guard had gone, slipping away in the night as soon as they heard the news. The morning would find more deserters abandoning their posts.
“Damn you, Shulgi, you fool!”
Kushanna took a deep breath, and tried to control her rage. She needed to think. Something must be done. She could leave the city, but where could she go that Trella’s agents wouldn’t find her? Nippur and Lagash wouldn’t take her in, and there would soon be a bounty on her head. Trella knew of Kushanna’s involvement in the war, and wouldn’t rest until she’d been captured or killed. Besides, who could she trust to protect her if she ran? Whoever Kushanna turned to would want her gold and jewels more than they wanted her body, and she would be helpless to protect either of them.
Sumer might be held, at least for a time, perhaps long enough to wring some concession from Eskkar. But another look at the quiet courtyard convinced her that wouldn’t happen. Without enough fighting men to man the walls, the soldiers wouldn’t continue the battle for her. They’d throw down their weapons at first sight of Eskkar’s riders.
In fact, the longer she thought, the more she realized only one man could save her: Eskkar. The king of Akkad. Kushanna would have to turn him to her side. She had dominated every man she’d ever met, and had no doubt that she would succeed with the barbarian king. It would take some doing, but perhaps it could be managed.
She thanked the gods that she hadn’t killed Trella’s brother. Now the half-witted slave might prove useful. She would send word to the farm and have him delivered to her.
By the time Kushanna worked out what to do, the first rays of the sun broke into the morning sky. She left her chambers and descended to the courtyard, grateful to see at least a few loyal soldiers still awaiting her commands. Her eyes rested on Jarud, the new Captain of the Guard.
“Jarud! Round up every one of the nobles, every merchant, every trader.” She rattled off the names of Sumer’s wealthiest. “Bring them here at once. Make sure you find every one.” They would protest, but that didn’t matter. “And spread the word throughout the city. I will
speak to the people at mid-morning in the marketplace. Go! And do not fail. Sumer’s fate may rest on how well you obey my commands.”
And more important, her own.
En-hedu and Tammuz arrived at the marketplace well before mid-morning, determined to get a good place to stand and hear Queen Kushanna’s words. Rimaud joined them, as much to keep them safe as to hear the queen speak. With the city in an ugly mood, Rimaud wore his sword, and Tammuz carried his knife on his belt.
Others arrived early as well, and soon at least eight or nine hundred people of all ages packed their way into the marketplace, with more arriving every moment. Everyone had questions, and shouts echoed back and forth as people sought to learn what had happened. Many had news, probably most of it wrong, to share with whomever would listen. En-hedu shook her head at their foolishness.
Mid-morning came and went before Jarud and ten soldiers arrived, escorting thirteen of Sumer’s richest men. Some showed bruises and marks on their face and arms, so En-hedu knew they hadn’t come willingly. Every one of them had sullen looks on their faces. She saw Merchant Gemama there, along with Puzur-Amurri, and Jamshid, Bikku’s husband. En-hedu had given massages to most of their women.
She leaned closer to Tammuz. “Too bad I never got invited to service Kushanna.” She fingered the knife under her dress.
The crowd – now numbering close to two thousand – surged forward, shouting questions at the merchants, demanding to know what had happened. The former leaders of Sumer stared at the angry people confronting them, but said nothing.
“They’ve been ordered not to speak,” Tammuz said.
“Queen Kushanna had better arrive soon,” En-hedu whispered. “The people are getting angry. There aren’t enough soldiers here to control this many.”
