by Sam Barone
Kushanna saw the look of frustration on his face. All the established mines within Sumer’s reach had been confiscated months ago, and their ores used to pay his own soldiers. But the output had always been small, and Kushanna’s demands had exhausted most of them. Hundreds of slaves had died extracting what little remained. Nuzi was a recent find, and could be expected to produce large quantities of gold and silver for some time.
“Don’t chide me with such a frown, brother. My agents have been busy on your behalf. Your captured treasures have bought you support in every Sumerian city. Hundreds of voices throughout the land now clamor for war against Akkad. Your victories in the desert, along with the gold we’ve spread around, have won support for your cause. Larsa, Uruk, Isin, all the cities are raising troops of their own, eager to share in the spoils of Akkad conquest.”
“Just so they’re ready to follow my standard into battle.”
“That campaign, too, is already under way. With the Tanukhs under your command, Sumer will field the largest part of any combined army. Because of that, the rest of the cities already accept your leadership, willingly or not. They understand it’s best to direct their wrath against Akkad than each other. The heavy bribes we’ve paid to their merchants and traders help see to that.”
“Especially now that they know what happened to the Salibs.”
“It’s more than that, Shulgi. Sumer continues to grow. We’re now twice as large as Nippur, and the other cities are even smaller. Their rulers know they will fall under your sway sooner or later. The wise among them will seek to gain as much influence from you as possible. And as much gold and power as they can wrest from Akkad’s defeat.”
Kushanna had indeed done well. Shulgi had thought it might take another year or two before all of Sumeria acknowledged his leadership. Instead in less than a single year he had already accomplished far more than his father ever dreamed.
“Then it’s time to issue a call for more of their soldiers to join me in the desert. The sooner they learn how to fight under my command, the better.”
Hundreds from the other cities had already flocked to his standard, desperate men searching for loot, young men seeking glory, petty thieves and outcasts seeking escape from their crimes. Razrek had accepted them all, feeding them into his training camps. Already many had turned into competent fighters and even subcommanders.
“Yes, my brother, that can be done. I’ll dispatch messengers tomorrow.”
“Any news from Akkad?”
“Of course. I have a dozen agents living there, and reports come from every trader who visits. Eskkar continues to recruit men and train them in the north. He shuffles them around from training camp to training camp, trying to keep their numbers secret. But more than a few have deserted, thanks to your gold. We know all about his spearmen and cavalry. But no matter how hard the barbarian tries, he won’t be able to raise more than three or four thousand fighters, perhaps a little more.”
Shulgi already had more than that number in his own camps at the edge of the desert. With the hordes of Tanukh horse fighters, Eskkar of Akkad was greatly outnumbered.
Kushanna saw the look. “Don’t count your victory yet, brother. Eskkar is trying to make up for his smaller force with greater training. His force of infantry spearmen is reputed to be fierce, and his horsemen grow more proficient every day, thanks to those accursed steppe barbarians in the north.”
Shulgi knew the remnants of the Ur Nammu had been assisting the Akkadians. Kushanna had tried to reach out to them, offered them gold and trading opportunities, but the clan had rebuffed her overtures. The Ur Nammu would deal only with Akkad, despite her bribes and offers of friendship.
“My men are training each day as well, and we’ve fought a dozen battles with the Salibs.”
“All to the good, Shulgi. But don’t grow overconfident. You will need every man from every city in Sumeria. Crush the Akkadians with numbers. Eskkar and his men will not go down easily.”
“Agreed. But with an army that small, Eskkar knows he can only fight a defensive war. He expects us to invade his land and besiege his city. He hopes to wear us down until we abandon our attacks. I’ll do that if I have to, but I prefer to force him out from behind his walls. Make him fight on my terms.”
“You’ve a plan for that?”
“Yes, I’ve been working on it for months, with Razrek and Vanar and the others. We’ll bring Eskkar out of Akkad, then destroy him.”
Kushanna didn’t answer. Instead she picked up a date and split the skin, removing the pit. “Our father tried that.”
Shulgi took another mouthful of bread before answering. “Our father was a fool. He wanted to defeat Eskkar himself. The man means nothing to me. It’s his city I want. If Eskkar wants to keep it… well, then he’ll come to me, fight me on my terms.”
She waited a moment, until she realized he didn’t intend to offer any more information.
“Be aware that Trella continues to raise Akkad’s walls higher and higher.”
“She can raise them as high as the mountains for all I care.” He smiled at her and patted her hand. “And her spies? Have you found them all?”
“Most of them. And I’ve put many others to the torture.” A smile crossed her face at the memory. “Some have confessed spying for Trella. But I’m sure there are still a few within the city.”
Shulgi knew that Kushanna, even as a young girl, enjoyed watching men tortured. It was one of the few things that excited her.
“How do you know when they’re telling the truth?”
“It’s simple. If they use Trella’s name, I know they’re lying, saying anything to stop the pain. When I hear Annok-sur’s name on their lips, then I know we captured a spy.”
“Clever, my sister. I see I’m in good hands with you guarding my city.”
“There will always be more spies.”
“I know. Don’t worry about such things for now. Did you learn anything more about her brother?”
Kushanna accepted the change of subject. “Oh, yes, we found him working in the copper mine less than fifty miles from here. His name is Almaric, and he is Trella’s older brother. His wits were almost gone when Sohrab brought him here. But he’s recovering, and he may be of some use to us. At the very least we can exchange him for some gold. Or use him to distract Trella right before we strike. Much will depend on how much he recovers.”
“You’re sure you have the right slave?”
“Drusas remembers Trella, all right, and how he sold her to Nicar of Akkad. Apparently, Drusas felt himself bested in the exchange. She was still a virgin when Nicar took possession. Trella’s brother was sold to the Minga clan, who operated a silver mine about three days’ journey from Sumer. After a few years, he was sold again to a copper mine.”
Shulgi shrugged. “Let’s hope we can make use of him.”
“He will serve some purpose, of that I’m sure. Trella knows nothing of her brother’s fate. It might distract her at the right time.”
Shulgi considered that for a moment, then dismissed it from his thoughts. “And what of the Alur Meriki? Did you ever reach them?”
“Yes, it was difficult, but a meeting place was arranged. Who can we send to meet with them? It’s far too dangerous for you to go.”
“Well, Razrek claims he has dealt with them before. I’m sure he’s ready to visit the barbarians again.” He smiled. “By now he’s had enough of the desert. And what better way to prove your courage than to put your head in the lion’s mouth?”
“Then all that remains is to be patient, Shulgi. Assemble your forces, and train your men. When the time comes to strike, I’ll have all the supplies and food that will be needed.”
“I’m ready now, my sister. We could defeat Akkad today.”
“One more year. By then your army will have grown even stronger. At the end of next summer, as soon as our crops are in, you can strike.”
The harvest in Sumeria — if the gods acted as they normally did — would take
place ten or twenty days before Akkad began to take its crops from the field. Sumeria’s warmer climate meant that her farmers would reap their harvest before the Akkadians. That would leave Eskkar’s men short of food at the start of the campaign. Still, a year seemed such a long time.
She guessed his thoughts. “It will come sooner than you think, my brother.”
“And what will my beautiful queen be doing in the coming year?”
“Helping you raise your mighty army. The other cities must prepare as well. They will each need to raise and arm thousands of men, and they will need to be trained as well. Our gold has already bought the support of their kings and ruling nobles. When you are ready, fighting men will march forth from Larsa and every other city, to follow your banner.”
“I will need to visit each of those cities, then, see to their training, meet with their rulers…”
“More than once, I’m sure, my brother. But when you ride into their strongholds at the head of your cavalry, strong and confident, all will accept your leadership.”
He nodded. Kushanna spoke the truth. Best to wait until victory was certain. “Then I will wait one more year. But starting tomorrow, we begin. I want every city in Sumeria to begin recruiting and training more men.”
“They will, my king. They will.”
34
Three months later…
Razrek licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, and tried to ignore the pain. One of his teeth felt loose. He probed it with his tongue and grimaced. His hands, bound tight behind his back, hurt even more than his swollen face. All this meant nothing compared to what was likely to come next. He lifted his eyes toward the tent where the leaders of the Alur Meriki had gone to talk, very likely deciding his fate.
At least Razrek hadn’t given in to his fear, not yet. He glanced at his two companions, brave enough men and willing to accompany him in a meeting with the barbarians. Both had already given themselves up for dead. They shook with fear as they knelt on either side of him, tied up as tightly as he was.
The carefully arranged meeting between Sumer and the Alur Meriki had gone horribly wrong from the beginning. Razrek had reached the agreed place early enough. After two days of waiting, a band of twenty warriors had galloped into his campsite just after sunrise. Razrek held up his empty hands and called out the name he’d been given — Urgo of the Alur Meriki.
Razrek might just have well shouted out his own name. The warriors burst upon the three of them. They were knocked to the ground and their weapons taken from them. Neither Razrek’s protests or curses made any difference. A vicious-looking warrior with a thick scar across his face led the group. The barbarians called him Rethnar. A clan leader, Razrek decided, identified by the small copper medallion hanging from his neck.
After a quick look, Rethnar shouted a few orders, and Razrek and his companions were lifted onto their horses and led off.
A long ride followed that lasted most of the day. Mid-afternoon had arrived when they crested a hill and Razrek saw the main camp of the Alur Meriki below him. Even Razrek’s eyes opened wide in wonder at the vast traveling village. He’d seen the camps of the Tanukhs and Salibs, but those desert tribesmen didn’t compare to the barbarians. At least a thousand horses, hundreds of wagons and tents, small herds of sheep, cattle and goats filled a small valley.
His captors had led their prisoners through the camp, until they reached their destination, a large tent set somewhat apart from the others. Razrek caught the word “ sarum ”, which he knew meant king or leader, before the warriors bound his hands and pushed him to his knees, along with his men. When Razrek protested, a fist had hammered into his face, knocking him to ground.
“Keep silent, dog,” the warrior said, “or I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Razrek had no doubt that the man meant what he said. Razrek clamped his lips shut. He should never have let Shulgi talk him into this meeting.
Voices that rose and fell came from the big tent. Several warriors were having a heated discussion within, and Razrek felt certain it concerned him. The arguing went on and on, and the pain from Razrek’s knees began to hurt worse than his hands.
At long last the tent flap jerked aside, and four clan chiefs, including Rethnar, came out. The three warriors guarding the tent followed behind. Not that they were needed, Razrek decided. The clan leaders appeared as hard and powerful as any of the warriors they commanded.
One warrior wore a copper pendant, much larger than those of his companions, on his chest. That would be the emblem of the Alur Meriki, the sacred medallion that identified their leader, Thutmose-sin. The leader of the clans stopped two paces away and stared down for a long moment at his prisoners. About forty years old, he stood taller than any of his commanders, and every muscle on his body might have been chiseled from stone. An odd, circular scar marked his forehead, just above his right eye. The rest of his face was untouched, though there were scars enough on his arms and chest to attest to his fighting strength.
The other three men ranged themselves alongside their leader, who folded his arms across his chest. Thutmose-sin gave Razrek’s men little more than a dismissive glance, but took his time studying the Sumerian leader.
“You are the one called Razrek.”
A statement, not a question. Razrek found his mouth dry, and had to swallow before he could answer. “Yes, Sarum. My name is Razrek, and I’ve been — ”
“You’ve been sent by the leader of the village called Sumer. You wish to wage war against the village of Orak, now called Akkad, and you want us to join you in your fight. Why? Are you not strong enough to fight your own battles?”
Razrek knew better than to answer that question either yes or no. “My Lord… Sarum… the people of Sumeria are determined to fight Eskkar of Akkad, who is your own sworn enemy. My king wishes to offer the mighty Alur Meriki a chance to join in the spoils of battle. Akkad is a rich land with much gold and silver, large herds, and thousands of possible slaves. Is not the enemy of my enemy my friend?”
The saying meant the same to the barbarians as to the tribes of the desert.
“The Alur Meriki will fight their enemies at a time of our own choosing,” Thutmose-sin said. “For dirt-eaters to suggest that we fight alongside them is an insult to our honor.”
“Sarum, I mean no such thing. I spoke as one warrior to another…”
Rethnar took a step forward and kicked Razrek in the chest. The savage blow knocked the breath from his body, and he toppled over.
“Do not dare to compare yourself to true warriors,” Rethnar shouted, his face red with anger.
Razrek twisted his body upright, and managed to get back on his knees, gulping air into his lungs. If he were going to die, he didn’t intend to grovel before these barbarians. “Untie my hands and give me a sword,” he said, “and we’ll see who is a warrior and who is a coward!”
Rethnar reached for his sword.
“Hold your anger, Rethnar,” Thutmose-sin commanded, his hand staying his companion. “He is only a dirt-eater seeking a quick death. Do not give him what he wants.”
“We did agree to meet with these Sumerians,” another man said. He was the oldest of the four clan leaders, probably approaching his fiftieth year. “We should hear his words. We can always kill him later.”
“As always, Urgo, you give good counsel,” Thutmose-sin agreed. “Bring this one into my tent. We will hear what he has to say. Give him some water. It seems his mouth is dry.”
The guards untied his hands and handed him a water skin. They kept him on his knees while he drank, but that was expected. No warrior, let alone their Sarum, could admit treating a dirt-eater as an equal.
Inside the tent, the guard pushed Razrek back on his knees before leaving. The Sumerian found himself facing the four clan leaders. He explained his purpose for visiting. A war was coming, a mighty conflict with many thousands of men on each side. The purpose of this war was to crush Akkad into the dust, to leave no stone of the accursed city sta
nding atop another. The forces of Akkad, led by Eskkar, would find themselves arrayed against the might of all the cities of Sumeria. The Akkadians would be forced to leave their walled city and march south, to face the army of Sumer. That would leave the city almost undefended, its walls guarded by old men, women and children. The time would be ripe to pluck the city.
Razrek spoke until his voice gave out. They gave him more water, and he went on. Razrek told them he would have brave men inside the enemy’s city, men who would lower ropes for the Alur Meriki to scale the walls. Once inside, the city’s inhabitants would be no match for the fury of the mighty Alur Meriki warriors. Finally, Razrek had nothing more to say. The faces of his captors revealed nothing about what they felt.
“Take him outside,” Thutmose-sin ordered.
Razrek bowed. In his chest, he felt relief. At least the Sarum hadn’t ordered him to be tortured. Not yet.
T hutmose-sin waited until the guards dragged Razrek out. The four commanders of the Alur Meriki shifted to face each other, sitting cross-legged on the thick blanket with only a small space separating them. Thutmose-sin looked at each man in turn. “Tell us what you think, Urgo.”
The oldest clan leader shook his head. “We should not get involved in the affairs of dirt-eaters. Akkad is too strong for us to challenge for now. In another five or seven years when we have recovered our strength, then it will be different.”
“This is our best chance to attack Akkad,” Rethnar said, his voice harsh in the tent’s confines. “We need to take our revenge now, before the accursed dirt-eaters grow even more numerous. Our blood stains the ground around their filthy walls and cries out for vengeance.” He fingered the scar on his cheek. An Akkadian arrow had torn his mouth and cheek open during the final battle. “If fighting on the side of these Sumerians gets us over the walls, so much the better.”
“We can afford to wait,” Urgo replied. “Each year more of our young men become warriors. If we strike now, if we rely on these Sumerians, we may risk more than we can gain.”
