Conflict of Empires es-3

by Sam Barone

  Everything had been discussed and planned and readied for this moment. Once the horsemen moved out, Eskkar, his commanders, everyone would be committed. If he had misjudged their enemy, or something unforeseen cropped up, they might all be dead by midday.

  Grond approached, leading two horses, and Eskkar took Boy’s halter. He’d named his favorite warhorse after the fine stallion he’d ridden many years ago. Boy stood even taller than his namesake, and Eskkar had worked with him until the two of them merged into a single fighter.

  “Well, Boy, today’s the day you earn all that grain you’ve been eating all these years.”

  He swung up onto Boy’s back. The stallion bucked once, just to show his spirit, and then settled in.

  The sun edged over the horizon, casting a rosy glow into the sky. The soldiers shoved the torches into the earth and gathered up their weapons. Gatus started the spearmen moving south. Screened by horsemen on either side, the men walked in a column four abreast, every man grunting under the heavy load of food and bulging water skins they carried, along with their weapons.

  Shouts echoed from the darkness all around them. The Sumerian sentries heard the activity, had probably crept up close enough to see what was going on. That didn’t matter, as long as they didn’t try to contest the passage, which wasn’t likely. Shulgi and Razrek had probably expected a night attack. When that had failed to materialize, the Sumerians would assume an attack at dawn. They would expect the Akkadians to move toward them, would be waiting for them when dawn broke. Indeed, Eskkar felt certain King Shulgi and his Sumerian allies had prepared well for any assault on his position.

  They were going to be surprised indeed when the sun rose.

  42

  By mid-morning a crowd of soldiers milled about near King Shulgi’s command post, blocking the path cleared and marked so that scouts and other messengers could bring messages to their leader. Swearing at the stupidity of villagers turned soldiers who couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of orders, Razrek rode his gray stallion to within fifty paces of his destination before he swung down from his horse.

  He pushed his way through a group of laughing soldiers, knocking one man aside and sending another stumbling to the ground. The offended soldier rose with a curse that died on his lips when he saw Razrek’s scowling face, even before the man recognized the Sumerian army’s second in command. King Shulgi, seated on a stool before a narrow table scarcely larger than the map that covered its surface, glanced up at Razrek’s approach.

  Shulgi’s handsome face looked grim, either from lack of sleep or the failure of Eskkar to attack. “Where is the barbarian?”

  Thousands of lips had mouthed the same question since well before the dawn. The Sumerians had remained awake all night, catching what rest they could while they stood at their posts, expecting an attack from the Akkadians. Before sunrise, word spread that Eskkar’s forces were on the move, and every Sumerian forgot their weariness, snatched up their weapons, and again prepared to meet his attack.

  But the dawn revealed nothing but an empty plain facing the alert and ready Sumerian force. The soldiers had breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that there might be no battle today, and fallen back into their careless habits.

  “He’s not coming, Shulgi.” Razrek’s voice sounded as harsh as the expression on his face. “Eskkar’s moving to the south with his infantry.”

  “And the cavalry?”

  “They’ve ridden off in another direction. As soon as it was light, the Akkadian cavalry galloped upstream about ten miles, then crossed over the Tigris before my men could catch them. I sent a thousand horsemen after them as soon I learned they were riding out. Our men stopped when they reached the river, and sent word back.”

  Shulgi’s fist slammed onto the table. “Your riders should have followed them, crossed the river after them, attacked them! Instead, you let them get away without even a skirmish.”

  “Perhaps. But why waste the men? The scouts say Eskkar is with his spearmen. If he’s fool enough to send his horse fighters back to Akkad to defend the city, or off on some raid, so much the better for us.”

  “If they were going back to Akkad, why cross the river?”

  Razrek shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to slow down our pursuit. Or they didn’t want to take a chance encountering the Alur Meriki. The Akkadians must have gotten word about them by now. Forget his cavalry. We should go after Eskkar. If he’s stupid enough to go south, we can catch up with him, block his path, and crush him. He’s only got a few dozen horsemen with him.”

  “I’m not moving my men until I know where Eskkar is. If we break camp and take up the pursuit, he could double back and attack us while we’re spread out, maybe destroy the vanguard. It took a whole day to get the men prepared to face him here. And all our supplies are here.” Shulgi unclenched the fist that rested on the map. “Where will he go? And why south? And why divide his men? He’s already outnumbered almost five to one.”

  Shulgi had over twenty-one thousand men with him, with more trickling in each day. His spies told him the Akkadians could scarcely muster five thousand.

  “What does it matter?” The thought of looting an entire city — especially one as rich as Akkad — brought a grin to Razrek’s face. “Now we can march on Akkad, capture his city while he’s away, and end the war with a single stroke.”

  “And what will Eskkar be doing all that time? It will take us at least a week to march to Akkad, and who knows how long to fight our way inside. Akkad’s walls are thick and high. The Akkadians have had plenty of time to prepare for our attack. It might take months to capture the city, and even longer to starve them out. In that much time, the barbarian would ravage all of Sumeria. He could force the other cities to submit, or even change sides. He might end up camped in front of Sumer.”

  Akkad’s new walls and mighty gates were the envy of every other city in the land. With a new and even deeper ditch carved beneath them it would take plenty of resources and preparation to surmount them. More important, it would take time, days, months, no one knew for certain.

  “The city may have already fallen to the Alur Meriki.” Razrek hadn’t lost his desire to go north. “If not, our men are still inside. They might still open the gates for us.”

  “If that’s true, then the city will wait,” Shulgi said. “We need to destroy Eskkar and his infantry, before he destroys us. I think he’s going to Larsa. He’s going to try and take the city and cut off our supplies.”

  Nearly every wagonload of food and grain needed by Shulgi’s army passed through Larsa. Boats and pack trains stretched all the way back to Sumer and the other cities, all with Larsa as their first destination. Ships and their cargoes stopped there, too. Shulgi’s men consumed enormous quantities of food, far more than could easily be obtained from the countryside, and the horses needed grain. It would take eight or ten days to send word south and direct the supply caravans to a new destination. With so many mouths to feed, food for the men was already in short supply. The nearby farms had been stripped clean days ago.

  “All the more reason to march on Akkad. There’s plenty of food up north.”

  “If Larsa falls, Isin and Uruk might be tempted to ally themselves with Eskkar and his men. Even worse, they could demand the return of their forces, weakening us when we need them most.”

  Razrek rested his hand on the table and leaned over. “Larsa’s walls are strong. They can hold out for weeks, maybe longer. It will take Eskkar five or six days to march his foot soldiers there. I can have five hundred horsemen there in three days. With that many extra men to strengthen the defenses, Larsa can laugh at Eskkar’s puny force.”

  “Send eight hundred,” Shulgi ordered. “And I want them moving today. I don’t care if they don’t eat or drink until they reach Larsa, or their horses drop dead from exhaustion after they arrive. And use the rest of your men to slow Eskkar down. Engage him in battle, harry his flanks, attack his rear, anything you can think of.”

  �
��And what will you be doing, my king, while I’m sacrificing my men by attacking Akkadian bowmen and infantry?”

  “By dawn tomorrow, as soon as we’re certain he isn’t doubling back, I’m coming after him. You just have to buy me time to catch up with him. Slow him down, while we give Larsa time to prepare. Hopefully, we’ll finish him off outside the gates of Larsa, catch him between our forces and the city’s walls.”

  “All right. I’ll send Mattaki and — ”

  “No. You go yourself. Take the eight hundred. I want you inside Larsa if Eskkar ever reaches there. He’s liable to get there faster than you think. Leave Mattaki in charge of the remaining horsemen. Let him nip at Eskkar’s heels. And once you’re inside the gates, make sure the city’s elders don’t decide to change sides, or fail to mount a real defense. Cut off a few heads if you have to, but make sure you can hold out until I arrive.”

  Razrek considered his orders. At least he could take his ease in the city while waiting for Shulgi. And Larsa’s merchants were rumored to have plenty of gold.

  “As you command, Lord Shulgi. I’ll be on my way by midday. Even if Eskkar reaches the city, he’ll not get in.”

  Shulgi’s eyes returned to the map. “Make sure that he doesn’t.”

  K ushanna flung the cup clattering across the room, the water it contained splashing over the polished wood floor. Rage suffused her face, her lips narrowing in anger at Sohrab’s words.

  “Are you sure you conveyed my message exactly as I gave it to you? You left nothing out, added nothing?”

  Sohrab quailed before her wrath. “I delivered your words with care, my queen. I added nothing, I swear it.” He’d expected her to be angry, but not like this. Someone would pay for this tonight. Sohrab just hoped it wouldn’t be him.

  “Tell me again what she said. Every word, every gesture.”

  Sohrab took a moment to compose himself. A messenger who couldn’t deliver a precise message soon found himself out of work. Trained almost from birth, he could memorize and recount even a long conversation between several participants.

  “Lady Trella told me to give you this reply. She made me repeat it twice, to make sure I wouldn’t forget.” He closed his eyes for a moment, to return his thoughts to the meeting with Lady Trella. Sohrab would echo every intonation of Trella’s words.

  “She said… ‘Queen Kushanna of Sumer, I thank you for discovering my brother Almaric and removing him from the mines. That mercy will be returned to you. Please tell Almaric of my love, and that I expect to see him soon. But the ransom you request of eight hundred pieces of silver for his delivery to Akkad is not possible in this time of war between our cities. I will, however, pay twenty silver coins for his quick and safe return. That is more than twice the price for a young and healthy male slave in Akkad’s market. If that price is not acceptable to you, please hold my brother safe until my husband Eskkar reaches Sumer. At that time, you can make whatever arrangements you can with him.’”

  “She dares to threaten me? When her husband reaches Sumer? I should have cut off the slave’s ears and had you take them with you.”

  Sohrab winced at the thought. Handing over Almaric’s ears to the queen of Akkad would likely have been fatal. Sohrab lowered his eyes and kept silent. Anything he said would only enrage Kushanna further.

  Kushanna wasn’t finished. “‘That mercy will be returned to you… when Eskkar reaches Sumer!’ The little slave bitch is trying to frighten me with her barbarian husband. I’ll have her brother’s eyes cut out and sent to her in a box!”

  Kushanna stepped across the room to the table and snatched up another cup. This one she filled with wine. “And what of the king’s army? Has he encountered the Akkadians yet?”

  Anything to change the subject, Sohrab decided. “Not yet, my queen. Eskkar and his army had marched out of Akkad three days before I met with Trella. By now King Shulgi may have already met and defeated the barbarian’s forces.”

  Queen Kushanna shook her head. “I’ve received no reports of a battle yet. In another day or two we’ll know.” She lifted the cup and drank. The strong wine helped her regain her composure.

  “Shall I go and remove the slave’s eyes?”

  “No. Not yet. When Trella is captured and kneeling at my feet, I’ll do more than pull out his eyes. I’ll cut her brother’s balls off and make her eat them. That will repay her for the insult.”

  Kushanna smiled, as if imagining the sight. “Go to the farm. Have the slave beaten. I want him whipped so hard that he can’t stand.”

  “Yes, my queen.” Anything for an excuse to get out of the room. “Would you like me to bring him here in the morning and have him whipped in your courtyard?”

  She considered that for a moment. “No. That can wait. Go.”

  With a deep bow, Sohrab scurried from the chamber. Kushanna grimaced and stepped onto the balcony. An Akkadian trader hung by his hands from the punishment post. She stared at him while she thought. Trella seemed confident enough of victory, to send such an insulting message. Of course, that was to be expected until Shulgi destroyed Eskkar’s army. Then Trella would send a different message — a message begging for her own life.

  Killing the brother now wouldn’t help, Kushanna decided. Alive, he might still be useful. Not that she expected Eskkar would ever show up at Sumer’s gates, but in war, as everyone said, anything could happen. No, she would wait to avenge the insult. That would make it even more pleasurable.

  But for now… she called out to one of the soldiers standing guard below. “Guard. Guard! Have the prisoner whipped until he’s dead.”

  “Yes, Queen Kushanna.” He trotted off to do her bidding.

  Soon the sounds of the man’s agony would fill the courtyard. That would be some small satisfaction, at least until she had Trella in her power.

  43

  Day 1

  Even as Razrek delivered his report to King Shulgi, Eskkar and his infantry splashed their way across the Sippar river. The invasion of Sumeria had begun. The Akkadians had marched south at a rapid pace, swinging wide of the post at Kanesh to avoid confrontation with the enemy. Eskkar’s men, despite struggling under the extra food and water they carried, had still managed to flank the Sumerian infantry with ease. A few hundred Sumerian horsemen had shadowed Eskkar’s forces, but they hadn’t come close, no doubt respecting the accuracy of the Akkadian bowmen, who now ringed the spearmen. If Shulgi had managed to get a few thousand of his men in position to block the Akkadian crossing, Eskkar would have had to fight his way through. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened.

  The Akkadian force had halted as soon as they crossed the stream. Eskkar gathered his commanders — Gatus, Alexar, Mitrac, Drakis, Shappa, Grond and Chinua — around him. Chinua of the Ur Nammu commanded the fifteen Ur Nammu warriors, the youngest and wildest of the barbarians who had decided to ride and fight with Eskkar’s army. Fashod had taken the rest of the Ur Nammu with Hathor.

  “As soon as the men have eaten and drunk their fill, call them to assembly. I want to talk to them. All of them. It’s time they knew what they faced.”

  “Might as well. It’s too late for any of them to run back to Akkad,” Gatus said, a grin on his face.

  As word spread that Eskkar wished to speak to them, the bowmen, spearmen, slingers, even the supply men and Ur Nammu warriors, crowded around their leader. Eskkar climbed to the top of a man-sized boulder, and waited until the soldiers had gathered around him, jammed together shoulder to shoulder and filling every space. At last they quieted down. More than four thousand men surrounded him, most of them still pushing and shoving, so they could get a step closer to better hear his words.

  For once Eskkar had no qualms about talking. These were soldiers after all, not traders or merchants who might hide their smiles at his way of speaking or his still-strong accent. He knew many of these soldiers, and all of them knew and trusted him.

  “Soldiers of Akkad, you’ve trained and marched for this day. Some of you have been cursing Gatu
s and myself for more than two years.”

  Eskkar waited until the ripple of laughter rose and fell. “Now all that hard work will be put to the test. Our enemy outnumbers us, but they can’t fight as well as you, and I know they can’t march as fast as you can. The Sumerians have drawn men from all the cities of the south, and even the outcast clans of the western desert. They have no love for each other, and no common cause to fight for. They fight only because King Shulgi commands them.”

  Such words came easily to him now. He knew what he wanted to say, and understood what they needed to hear.

  “We fight because we are all brothers, all Akkadians. Like myself, most of you were not born in Akkad, but by taking up our cause, we have all become Akkadians. We fight for our families, our homes, our future. Now we will march to Larsa, the first of the six cities of Sumer. We will take Larsa, and punish its leaders for raiding our lands. And its spoils will be ours.”

  A ragged cheer arose at the mention of spoils. Most of the soldiers owned little more than the clothes on their backs. They’d come to Akkad to better themselves, to leave the hardships of the farm and countryside behind, and most had joined the army to fill their bellies and earn a few copper coins each month. Few of them understood the life-or-death situation that Akkad and its leaders faced. A chance for the spoils of battle meant more to some of these soldiers than any cause. And if they had to kill a few Sumerians to get at them, then they would fight all the harder.

  Eskkar waited until the cheering had faded away. “The Sumerian infantry will try to follow us, but they’ll be too slow to keep pace. Their cavalry will try to hold us back, but our bowmen will keep them at bay. All you have to do now is march, march and march again, until your legs are too weary to keep you standing, until you’re cursing Gatus and me as you’ve never done before. Until we reach Larsa, we cannot — will not — waste a moment. Meanwhile, obey your commanders, stay together, and we will defeat the Sumerians.”