by Sam Barone
“I did give him a good price.” Nicar sat next to Yavtar. Nicar had once been Akkad’s leading merchant. Now his son Lesu had taken over that responsibility, while the father acted as Chief Judge of the laws of Akkad. “Those stones were my share of the goods from Lesu’s trip to the Indus Valley. I hope the information you received was worth the lower price.”
“I think Gemama would have paid more for your stones,” Yavtar said. “And I’m sure you could have set a higher price if you’d sold them here.”
Nicar smiled. “Actually, I didn’t want to cut into my son’s profits. If we had both sold our stones in Akkad, the price would have dropped. There are, after all, only so many who can afford to buy such things.”
“Then I think we made a good exchange, Nicar. Gemama spoke bluntly, but I heard the truth in his words. King Eridu would have cut the tongue from Gemama’s mouth for what he revealed.”
“So you’re certain it’s war, then?” Gatus, the oldest of Akkad’s soldiers and the captain of the city’s guard, leaned across the table.
Two others sat on either side of Trella. Annok-sur, Trella’s friend and confidante, who also directed the large number of spies in Akkad and throughout the land that gathered information for Trella and Eskkar. Bantor, Annok-sur’s husband, had the seat at Trella’s right. He commanded all the soldiers in and around Akkad during Eskkar’s absence.
“It’s war,” Yavtar answered, “and it’s going to be bad. King Eridu left Sumer a week before we arrived, heading a large force of at least three or four hundred soldiers. No one knows exactly how many. Apparently, Eridu felt confident of victory. The other cities have submitted to his rule, or allied themselves with him, willingly or not. For whatever reason, they all contributed soldiers to his venture. For the last two years, Eridu has blamed every ill, every grievance, every problem on Akkad. Our name is like a curse to them now. The whole of Sumeria believes demons rule here in Akkad, and that our only purpose is to create misery for Sumer’s inhabitants.”
Taking his time, Yavtar recounted almost every word of his conversation with Gemama. When he finished, silence hung in the air for a few moments.
“Eskkar must have encountered Eridu and his Sumerians by now,” Bantor said. “He has only a hundred men with him. Enough for bandits, but not for that kind of fighting.”
“I’m sure my husband will know what to do,” Trella said. “He knows when to fight, and when to retreat.”
She made sure her voice carried conviction, though a tiny doubt remained in her heart. If anything happened to Eskkar, the whole balance of power in Akkad would shift. No matter how much she accomplished, or how well she administered Akkad’s affairs, everything depended on Eskkar’s presence. His fair rule of Akkad’s few laws had created a trust in his leadership, while his warrior skills made everyone feel safe from danger. No woman could equal those feelings in the populace.
Unfortunately, those same warrior skills often led him into personal danger, and he trusted in his luck to carry him through, heedless of the risks he ran, not only to himself but to Trella and their son. Sargon, their firstborn, was only two years old, and while many in Akkad would acknowledge him as the heir to the kingdom, others would step forward to challenge the ascension of one so young. The danger would remain until Sargon grew old enough to share in their leadership.
“He’s the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known,” Gatus said, uttering words no one else in Akkad would have dared to speak. “One of these days his luck is going to run out.”
“But not anytime soon, I think,” Yavtar said. “This Eridu is not a soldier, though he preens himself as one, and seeks the glory of a conquest. And no matter how many men he has, they will not be as well trained as our Akkadian soldiers.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear from Eskkar in the next few days,” Trella said. In truth, she had already expected news from her husband to reach her. If word didn’t come soon, she would have Bantor dispatch a messenger to seek him out and report back. “But Sumer, as they now call their city, is preparing for war?”
“Yes, Lady Trella. The city is as active as Akkad, and growing each day. Walls, homes, markets, are constructed everywhere. The population grows even faster, feeding gold into Eridu’s hands. The people feel no love for him or his family, but he has them under control, with plenty of armed men to enforce his orders. If he can wrest control of Akkad’s borderlands, he will guarantee his food supply, and even more gold will pass through his hands. He’s already promised farms and land in the border to those who support him.”
“He’ll change his mind after he meets our archers,” Bantor said.
“Even if Eskkar drives off Eridu’s men this time, it may not matter in the long run.” Nicar’s words sounded grim. “If Eridu has Sumer under his thumb and has gained influence over the other five cities, he will have to contend with us sooner or later. With deserts to the east and west, and the great sea at their backs, they can only expand northward. Akkad blocks the road to their expansion.”
“How many people live in those cities?” Trella asked, directing her question at Yavtar.
“Sumer itself has almost as many inhabitants as Akkad, say four or five thousand. The other villages are not as large, but taken together, include another sixteen, maybe seventeen thousand.”
“And all of them add new people each day, I’ll warrant,” Nicar said. “So they will all grow as fast as Akkad. And with large numbers of young men working the surrounding farms, Eridu will have plenty of volunteers, all dreaming of gold or glory, to swell his army. Not to mention a surplus of craftsmen and toolmakers eager to sell weapons and tools to the king.”
In any large group of people, Trella knew, an abundance of unmarried young men could be found. There were always more boys than needed to work a farm or labor in the villages. Older men, especially those with wealth, took or purchased extra wives and female slaves for their pleasure beds, creating a shortage of marriageable women for the young men, increasing the pressure on them to find their own fortunes. Soldiering provided a way to fulfill that need, while the danger involved merely added spice to youthful dreams. Even in Akkad, plenty of boys and young men volunteered to join Eskkar’s warriors, all seeking to improve their lives. More arrived each day, searching for work, and as often as not, getting into trouble.
“You think this will be a long war, then?” Trella asked.
“I think the lands of Sumeria have many more people than they can sustain,” Nicar said. “So yes, even if Eskkar drives off Eridu’s soldiers, the Sumerians will return. If not this year, then the following year or the one after that.”
“I agree, Lady Trella,” Yavtar said. “Gemama implied as much.”
“Let them come.” Bantor rapped his fist on the table. “Each time they do, we’ll drive them off.”
“First we’d better see what news Eskkar brings us,” Gatus said.
“I agree,” Trella said. “We’ll know more when Eskkar returns. Then we’ll decide what to do about this new threat.” She glanced around the table, but no one had anything more to add. Trella stood, signifying the end of the meeting. “Yavtar, all of us give thanks to you for bringing us this information.”
One by one, the men left, until only Annok-sur and Trella remained in the workroom.
“You said nothing during the meeting,” Trella said.
“What was there to say?” Annok-sur put her arm around Trella’s shoulders for a moment. “After two years of peace, war is returning to Akkad. This time it will be a different kind of war, and I think a long one. I only hope that Eskkar returns safely, and that he knows what to do.”
“As do I,” Trella said. “He understands very well why and how men fight.”
“Perhaps. But these are not barbarians or bandits. His experiences as a warrior may not help him as much in the coming battles.”
“Perhaps,” Trella said. “But meanwhile, there is much that you and I can do, and I think we should begin by making our own plans for the possibility
of war. Whatever unseen path the future takes, we’ll need to be ready. I think there is going to be much more to winning this kind of conflict than just victory in battle. Our husbands will think only of winning the next fight, and the next one after that. We need to find a way to win the war, so that Akkad can remain at peace for many more years.”
“The first step should be to send more spies — as many as we can — to Sumeria, to learn what they can about our enemies. We’ve relied too much on traders and merchants bringing us word of what they’ve seen.”
“Yes, we can start with that.” Trella turned to her advisor. “But much more needs to be done, and we’ll need to start as soon as Eskkar returns.”
“Let’s hope Eskkar’s battle went well, both for our own sakes and for Akkad.”
“Yes.” Trella’s thoughts went to her headstrong husband. Accomplished warrior he might be, but even now Eskkar could be dead, lying face-down on some unknown battlefield. She and her son might find themselves exposed to any number of threats, their future destroyed. The sooner he returned, the easier she would feel. And the next time Eskkar went into battle, Trella resolved to provide him with every advantage she could.
T hat night, well after dusk, Eskkar rode up to Akkad’s main entrance. “Open the gate!” he shouted, staring up at the men guarding the walls.
At sundown each day, the guards closed the city’s gates. Those travelers who arrived afterwards usually had to camp outside for the night. Now the soldiers peered down into the gloom, and saw a band of heavily armed riders. But before they could even issue a challenge, the commander in charge of the gate arrived. A torch in hand, he leaned over the parapet. A single glance told him all he needed to know.
“Open the gate,” he ordered. “It’s the king.”
It took time to open the heavy gate, but at last the final restraining beam creaked out of its supporting brace. Eskkar, Grond, and a dozen riders cantered through. Once inside, they slowed their horses to a walk, and two Hawk Clan warriors led the way through the narrow lanes. This early in the evening, the streets and lanes held plenty of people relaxing after their day’s labor and enjoying the cool air. Everyone stopped to stare at the horsemen. Horses were rare enough in the lanes during the day, and seldom seen after dark.
“It’s Lord Eskkar.” One by one, people repeated the words. “The king has returned!”
A few cheers followed, but Eskkar ignored them, guiding his horse steadily through the press. One voice asked about the bandits.
“We won a great victory!” Grond called out, to a roar of approval from the crowd. “The bandits are destroyed!”
At last the party reached Eskkar’s house, and he swung wearily down from the sweaty horse. Grond dismissed the men, who would return to their barracks after handing the horses off to the stable boys. As soon as the soldiers washed the dust from their bodies, they would search out their favorite taverns. Soon everyone would know about the battle against King Eridu.
Inside the courtyard, Eskkar walked straight through the open ground until he reached the rear of the house. A private well provided a steady supply of fresh water for the household. He pulled up the bucket and drank deeply, careless of the water that spilled across his chest. By then servants had arrived in a rush, and one began refilling the bucket, while Eskkar stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the ground.
He washed himself as best he could, trying to remove five days of sweat and dirt from his body, though he knew he wouldn’t really feel clean until he’d had a long swim in the Tigris. That would have to wait until the morning. With help from one of the servants, Eskkar scrubbed most of the dirt off his body, then dried himself with a large square of linen handed to him.
When he finished, he turned away from the well, to find the servants gone and Trella standing there, a clean tunic in her hand.
“Welcome home, Eskkar,” she said, handing him the fresh garment.
He pulled it on, unable to resist a sigh as the soft cloth settled around his shoulders. Without a word he took Trella in his arms and held her tight against him. Once again he breathed in the familiar scent of her hair and felt the ease that she always brought him. After holding her close for some time, he bent down and kissed her, letting himself enjoy the sweet taste of her lips. Her arms went around his neck, and she pressed herself against his chest, rising up on her toes to answer his kiss with one of her own. She held him tight until he relaxed against her.
“It’s good to be home, Trella. Is everything all right here?”
“Yes, husband. The city was quiet while you were gone. And the bandits from Sumer? Did you meet them?”
“Not bandits, but soldiers,” he growled, putting his arm around her shoulder and guiding her back toward the entrance of the house. “And King Eridu was there as well, with almost four hundred men, trying to ambush us. He nearly succeeded, too.”
“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 sleepi
ng 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.
