by Sam Barone
Finally, the city’s walls rose up. At this distance, Hathor had to rely on one of his men’s eyesight. He couldn’t tell if the gate were open or closed. If word of their approach had reached Uruk, the gate would be closed and the wall bristling with armed men. If it remained open, it would mean that Uruk had not yet learned of the presence of the Akkadian force within their heartland.
He knew a little about the history of Uruk. Supposedly the oldest city in the land between the rivers, farming and trade had flourished here long before anyone began working the land around Akkad. For a while, or so its inhabitants claimed, Uruk had stood above the other villages, but in the last few generations, Sumer and the other cities, with their emphasis on trade, had surpassed it. Uruk’s walls reflected its status. Raised in the last few years, they were just high enough to keep out the occasional desert raiders.
Hathor halted his men for one last brief rest, and to allow them a few moments to ready themselves. The riders swung down from their horses. Twenty men, already dressed to look like slaves, wrapped ropes around their wrists as if bound. They would complete the journey on foot. Weapons were placed in sacks and tied on the backs of the horses. The change over took little time, because the men had prepared for it last night. Leading the way, Hathor rode slowly toward Uruk’s northern gate, with Muta at his side.
Behind them came the twenty “slaves”, trailed by ten mounted men leading the rest of the horses. The riders wore rope whips fastened to their wrists, the usual means to keep slaves in order. A single rider brought up the rear, leading two pack animals. Hathor’s pace kept the supposed slaves staggering to keep up. He heard them cursing at the effort, but slaves often were pushed to the limits of their endurance and beyond. No one cared about a few slaves staggering along or falling down from exhaustion. More important, Hathor didn’t want to find the gate slammed in his face just as they drew near. This close to the city, he couldn’t see any extra guards appeared on the walls, and step by step, the little caravan moved closer.
“We’ve done it, Muta. They haven’t heard about us.”
If the Uruks had been warned and the city on alert, Hathor’s orders were to raid the countryside and cause as much damage and confusion as possible. But if they could get into the city…
“They will soon enough.” Muta couldn’t conceal the excitement in his voice. “Just a few moments longer.”
Hathor wanted to see if Klexor and the rest of the Akkadians had closed up the gap behind them, but didn’t dare to turn around and draw the guards’ attention to their rear. At last, only a hundred paces lay between Hathor and the gate. Then they were within hailing distance.
“Who are you?” The words came from the guard tower on the right.
“Answer him, Muta.” Hathor tried to look unconcerned.
“Muta of Margan, bringing slaves and horses for Uruk’s market.”
“Hurry, then,” the guard called down. “We’re about to the close the gate for the night.”
Another forty paces and Hathor’s horse stepped its way through the open gate. A half dozen slaves stood there, ready to close the heavy panels that would secure the city for the night. He slid off his horse and moved aside.
“Where are you from? I don’t recognize you.”
Hathor turned to find the same guard who had hailed him approaching. He wore some emblem of rank on his tunic and appeared in charge of the soldiers at Uruk’s main entrance. By now the first of the “slaves” had trudged through the opening, shoved along by their overseers.
“My master doesn’t speak your language,” Muta said, moving beside Hathor. “We come from the desert to the west of Margan.”
A cry went up from one of the guards on the tower. “Commander! I see horsemen! Hundreds of them approaching!”
“Close the gate,” the commander shouted, then turned to Hathor. “Get your men inside!”
The man’s slow wits hadn’t connected Hathor’s party with those approaching at a canter. Hathor’s sword flashed from its sheath and he drove the point into the man’s stomach. The gatekeeper’s eyes showed surprise and understanding in the brief moment before life fled his body.
Shouts echoed across the towers and along the walls. Hathor’s men were already casting off their ropes and seizing their weapons. Bows and quivers were scooped up from the packs. Men raced into the towers, to climb the steps and kill the guards. The slaves about to close the gate fled down the nearest lane.
Two Akkadians had a different role. Each carried a hammer and a thick stake, and each was already hammering the stakes into the ground. A few mighty swings, and the sharpened stakes penetrated deep into the earth, preventing the gates from closing.
An arrow struck the wall just behind Hathor. He ducked into the doorway of the nearest tower. Soldiers from inside the city were rushing to the walls, but they had to fight their way through those inhabitants trying to get as far away from the gate as possible.
Hathor’s men took their station inside the towers, shooting arrows at anyone attempting to drive them out. Arrows from the defenders rained down on the gate from the walls, but the gates remained open. Until the stakes were removed, a task that would take several men some time, the gates could not be closed.
Leaving his men at the base of the tower, Hathor rushed up the steps. Bodies were strewn about the top of the tower, including a few of his own men.
“Keep down!” a voice shouted.
Defenders from along the wall on either side were targeting the Akkadians. Nevertheless, Hathor risked a quick glimpse over the wall. Klexor and his men were only a few hundred paces away, screaming their war cries and kicking their exhausted horses at a dead run. Nothing could stop them now.
Hathor dashed back down the steps. By the time he reached the bottom, over seven hundred heavily armed men were riding through, all shouting war cries at the tops of their lungs. They split into three groups, one heading for the barracks, one for the marketplace, and one for the main stables.
Uruk had close to four thousand people living within its walls, but many of its fighting men had joined Shulgi’s army. The city probably only had three or four hundred armed men capable of mounting a resistance, and these were scattered throughout the city, their day’s work ended. Leaderless, they tried to resist, to gather themselves into units, but soon hundreds of people were streaming toward the south and east gates, escape the only thought in the minds. A few of the defending soldiers had the same thought, and the city’s defense collapsed before it could even get organized.
Flames sprang up, as Akkadians found torches and oil, and set fires, as much to panic the inhabitants as to light the city against the gathering darkness. Women wailed and men shouted, all of them rushing about trying to save themselves. Hathor had never seen anything like this before, the entire population of a large city thrust into a complete panic within moments. Most had no idea who had attacked them. He heard the word “Tanukhs” again and again, despite the Akkadians using their city’s name as their war cry. It seemed like everyone within the walls was screaming in terror.
By the time Hathor reached the south gate, the sun had started its descent below the horizon. As far as he could see, and in every direction, people streamed away from the already burning city, carrying their children or whatever possessions they had managed to snatch up. They would run and run until they collapsed in exhaustion.
Klexor rode up. “We captured the stables and many horses before they could escape. I’ve told our men not to pursue those running away. Otherwise, any who resist are to be killed.
“Keep the fires burning.” Hathor had to shout to be heard over the din. “Burn everything. And make sure the horses we don’t need are slaughtered, too.”
There must not be any pursuit after the Akkadians had left. His men knew what needed to be done. One by one, as they found no foe to face them, they put down their bloody weapons and began heaping the fires. Doors, corrals, clothing, anything that would catch fire was put to the torch.
> The sun slipped below the horizon, but the light from the fires that had sprung up everywhere made the city as bright as day. Uruk would burn through the night. This city, like the camps in the desert, would pay the price for helping recruit and arm the Tanukhs, so they could wage war on Akkad.
Day 9
I n the morning, the stench of burning wood and flesh — both human and animal — hung in the air. Hathor’s commanders counted at least two hundred bodies, mostly men who had died either fighting or trying to escape. The rest had abandoned their homes and fled. The countryside would be full of people running or trying to hide.
Hathor give his tired men no rest during the night. Guarding the captured horses, loading supplies and water skins, and even collecting loot, all had to wait until his men gathered everything that would burn and set it afire. Twice he rode through the wreckage of Uruk, pointing out huts or corrals still standing that his men had overlooked.
His soldiers cursed and swore at him as they labored, covered with sweat, dust and soot from the fires. Nevertheless, every man took satisfaction in the destruction. Uruk had provided men and supplies to both Sumer and the Tanukhs, and now terror had come upon them.
Just before mid-morning, Hathor swung himself onto his horse, and led his men out of the north gate. The Akkadian cavalry now resembled a vast caravan, with over a hundred captured horses loaded down with loot, the spoils of an entire city. Behind them, they left an empty shell, inhabited only by the dead, and possibly a handful who might have saved themselves by concealing themselves in their hiding holes. Hathor had even ordered the captured women, some still crying after being raped, driven out of the city. Some would return, but they would find little to sustain them.
The supply animals forced the Akkadians to travel slowly. The horses had a night’s rest, but they were still weary from the great distance they had traveled yesterday. Still, Hathor knew he had to balance his men’s need for rest with the need to keep moving. By now word of his raid would be spreading throughout the land, and every city and village would be scrambling to assemble a force large enough to hunt him down. This deep into enemy territory, anything could happen. Given enough time, the Sumerians could raise enough men to trap him.
Hathor led his men back up the Euphrates, to the place where he had crossed only yesterday. They pitched camp there and set up picket lines. Not only was the crossing a good place to camp, with plenty of fresh water, but they could see a good way in every direction, which meant no enemy could surprise them. Everyone not on guard duty slumped to the ground to fall asleep within moments. Hathor wanted to do the same, but he forced himself to remain awake, letting Klexor and Muta get some rest first. That would ensure that at least one of the senior commanders stayed awake and alert.
When they woke Hathor, the sun was falling toward the horizon.
“Commander, boats are approaching. It must be Yavtar.”
Hathor accepted the soldier’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. By the time he reached the river, six boats were heading for the shore, three of which were Yavtar’s fighting ships. Hathor recognized Maralla, the commander of this little fleet. He stood in the prow of the lead boat, then jumped into the river and splashed his way to where Hathor stood.
“Welcome, Maralla.” Hathor clasped the man’s shoulder.
“Welcome, Hathor. We saw the smoke, and knew Uruk was burning.”
“We were fortunate. They had no idea any Akkadians were within two hundred miles of Uruk.”
“Did you lose many men?
“About twenty dead, and thirty-six wounded. Can you take all of them?”
“Yes, and whatever loot you want us to carry, as soon as we unload the grain, food and arrows.”
“You may need more boats. My men brought plenty of valuables with them. And the horses need the grain. We didn’t have time to take much food from Uruk. We’ll stay here and rest for a day or two, before moving east.”
“As soon as we’ve exchanged cargoes, I want to be out of here.” Maralla glanced up and down the river, as if expecting a fleet of enemy ships at any moment. “It’s a long haul upriver, and we’ll need to stay off the main branch of the Euphrates until we’re past Lagash. If we row through the night, we may slip past anyone watching for us.”
Maralla had come down from the north, bypassing Lagash, but word of his passage would have been dispatched, and no doubt foes would soon be waiting for him on his return. The sooner he got out of Sumeria, the better.
“We’ll be moving out tomorrow as well. One day of rest is all we can risk this far south.”
Hathor gave the orders, and soon the wounded were carried to the shore and handed down into the boats, the men returning with whatever cargo they were handed. It didn’t take long to empty the boats, but it was well past dusk when Maralla and the last of the ships pushed off and headed north, their small sails catching a breeze that helped the rowers.
“I hope they make it,” Klexor said. “It’s a long way home.”
The mention of home brought Cnari back to Hathor’s thoughts. For the first time in his life, Hathor wished he, too, were home. He took a breath and put his wife out of his mind. “Even if they don’t, they’ve fulfilled their task. Our horses will be well fed, the men rested, and we’ve plenty of arrows.”
“Let’s hope we don’t need to use them until we rejoin Eskkar’s forces.”
Day 10
A fter a day and a night of rest, Hathor’s forces moved out with the dawn. If he were to keep his rendezvous with Eskkar, he had two days to reach Isin, a journey of over one hundred miles. Hathor would have preferred to depart yesterday, but the horses needed rest and a chance to stuff their bellies with grain. It would be of little benefit if either his men or their mounts were unable to fight when they joined Eskkar’s forces.
They traveled light, carrying only enough food for the two-day journey. The water skins stayed empty, as there would be at least a dozen streams to cross between Uruk and Isin. The horses had already devoured all the grain carried on Maralla’s ships, and for the next few days would have to forage as they traveled. To make that easier, Hathor spread his men out over a wide front. He stayed in the center of the line, with Klexor on the right, and Muta commanding on the left. The temptation to burn and kill everything in his path was strong, but he knew he had no time to waste, and so the countryside was spared the worst.
They stopped at midday, after crossing over a small stream.
“I wish we knew how Eskkar is doing.” Klexor had ridden in from the flank.
“We’ll know when we get to Isin.” Hathor had asked himself the same question, but refused to let his men see that he shared their concerns, not even his commanders. If they reached Isin and didn’t find Eskkar waiting, they would probably all end up dead.
“If he’s not there, we’ll have a hard time getting back north.”
“If Eskkar isn’t there, word will still come down the river.” Hathor didn’t really believe it. If Eskkar wasn’t there, it meant he’d been defeated in battle.
“And if we meet Razrek’s cavalry…?”
“Then we’ll have a good fight before we get home.” He clasped his hand on Klexor’s shoulder. The two men had become good friends during the last year, training side by side. “Now we just need to get to Isin. Tell the men to start moving. We’ve still got a long ride ahead of us.”
54
Day 10
Eskkar and his commanders crested a low hill at mid-morning and caught their first glimpse of Isin, less than two miles away. The Akkadian army had approached the city from the north, and as soon as they reached the Euphrates, Yavtar’s boats had joined them.
Like Akkad, Isin nestled in a gentle curve of the river. And, like Akkad, it had three gates. Eskkar had visited this city several years ago, but it was good to match what he remembered against the actual sight. Isin boasted a good anchorage, and he could see a dozen river boats crowded against each other. High walls ringed the city, and a fresh scar in th
e earth showed that the surrounding ditch had only recently been dug out, expanded and deepened.
“Won’t be easy to get in there,” Gatus said, his eyes scanning the possible field of battle. “Not with the reinforcements they got yesterday.”
Over a thousand horsemen had ridden past Eskkar’s infantry yesterday just after midday. The Sumerians hadn’t bothered to avoid Akkadian scrutiny, and Eskkar frowned when he saw that these men were not the rabble Tanukhs or regular Sumerian cavalry. Shulgi had no doubt sent men to Isin who could be expected to stand and fight.
“It’s not likely Trella’s spies will be able to help us this time.” Eskkar’s eyes told him there would be no easy way into Isin. “They’ll keep a better watch over the walls after what happened at Larsa.”
“Too bad there was no time to dig the tunnel.”
One of the many plans discussed at the war table was the digging of a tunnel under the city’s walls. But such a task proved too daunting for the few men inside Isin working for Trella.
The last report Eskkar had received from Akkad’s spies within Isin was that King Naxos had retained four to five hundred fighting men within the city. With the reinforcements sent by Shulgi, at least fifteen hundred fighting men would be preparing to defend the city.
“I never believed they could dig a tunnel without getting caught,” Eskkar said. “If Shulgi hadn’t sent those horsemen, we could have taken the city, despite the losses. But now, we’d lose too many men, and even then might not break through the defense.”
“Let’s hope that Corio’s plan works.”
The master builder who had erected Akkad’s walls had dispatched his son, Alcinor, to each of the six Sumerian cities last year, ostensibly on trading missions. His “bodyguards” for that journey were veteran soldiers who focused their attention on the forces defending the cities and to the quality and quantity of men and weapons. Alcinor, who already equaled or possibly surpassed his father’s skill as a master builder, had returned with much good information on the Sumerian cities, their strengths and weaknesses, and how and where they could best be attacked. Isin, however, had one feature that made it unique. Taking advantage of that, Alcinor and his father had come up with a dubious plan for taking the city.
