Conflict of Empires es-3

by Sam Barone

  Despite both Naxos and Eskkar’s efforts, word of Isin’s plight had reached the Sumerians. Shulgi had flown into a rage when he heard of Naxos’s refusal to join the fight, and for once Razrek couldn’t blame him. Somehow the barbarian had managed to pin Naxos, of all people, inside his own walls without shooting a single arrow.

  “Eskkar will have some tricks for us tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I’m sure he will,” Shulgi agreed. “We’re not going to fall for any of them. When the battle starts, we’ll march straight at his center. All you have to do is keep his horsemen off our flank, and I’ll finish Eskkar’s spearmen. Once they’re gone, the rest of his men will turn and run.”

  Shulgi turned to the rest of his commanders. “You know your positions. Tomorrow there will only be one command: to close with the enemy as soon as I give the order. We’ve cut off Eskkar’s supply ships, and now he’s as short of food as we are. Once we’re finished with him, Isin will provide all the food we need, or I’ll have Naxos’s head on a spear right next to Eskkar’s. Otherwise, I’ll flood the city myself. A few hours fighting tomorrow and the spoils of Akkad will be ours. Just keep the men alert tonight.”

  Shulgi glanced at his commanders. Heads nodded in agreement. Even Razrek’s. The Akkadian was trapped against the river with no way to cross, outnumbered, and short of food and supplies. Tomorrow would see the end of Akkad’s barbarian leader.

  A s the darkness fell, some soldiers built a fire near Eskkar’s command post, despite the mild summer evening. No one had ordered them to do it, but they did it anyway, to help their leader meet with his men. One by one, his commanders joined him, to report on their men, review their orders for tomorrow, and take into account any new instructions. They formed a tight circle around him, some kneeling so that as many could see the map as possible.

  While Eskkar waited for the last of his subordinates to arrive, he studied the map on the ground before him, though its frayed edges and grimy appearance showed how often Eskkar and his commanders had consulted it during the last eleven days. This map depicted the land around Isin, and had first been detailed by Trella’s map makers back in Akkad almost a year ago. It had proved its use already by determining where to dig the canal to threaten Isin.

  But Trella’s map makers had done more than just identify the landscape. They had walked this land, studying possible battle sites, just as they had done in and around Larsa, and even Sumer itself. Finding likely places for two armies to clash wasn’t as difficult as it first appeared. Troops from both sides needed water and supplies, which kept everyone close to the rivers and streams. Commanders needed to communicate with their respective cities as well as their own garrisons, which suggested other likely trails for troops to move and establish camp. All in all, nearly a dozen such sites had been studied around the city of Isin, and Eskkar’s clerks carried maps of all of them.

  Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he studied the map in silence, though by now he knew every line and symbol. Gatus arrived and took his place beside his captain, along with Drakis; they would lead the spearmen in tomorrow’s attack, and face the brunt of Shulgi’s forces. Hathor sat on Eskkar’s right, with Klexor and Muta; they commanded the cavalry. Alexar and Mitrac would lead the bowmen in support of Gatus, and Shappa and Nivar commanded the slingers, who would follow Hathor. Yavtar and Daro would command the riverboats and their archers. The smallest force was that of the Ur Nammu warriors, led by Fashod and Chinua. Grond completed the circle, facing his friend and commander across the fire. Of all those present, only he had no need to see the map. Grond’s place would be wherever Eskkar was.

  When they had all taken their places, Eskkar turned the map over. One of his clerks could sketch and draw. Eskkar and Gatus had spoken to the artist the day before yesterday, when they traversed what appeared to be the most likely battleground. The man had created a new drawing that showed in detail where Eskkar wanted to place his men, and where he expected the Sumerians to place theirs. Nothing fancy, just blocks with a single symbol within, to identify the particular force and its position.

  Every head craned forward to get a closer look, each commander intent on studying the battleground. While they examined the map, Eskkar lifted his eyes and studied the men surrounding the camp fire. Hundreds of soldiers had jammed themselves in as close as they dared, to hear the words of their leaders. They made no sound, didn’t even talk among themselves, and Eskkar wondered if some of them weren’t holding their breath. No doubt they expected to be ordered away, but Eskkar didn’t mind. The more his men knew about what they would face, the easier it would be in the morning. With that in mind, he raised his voice, so that as many as could would hear his words.

  “The last report from Trella’s agents estimates that Shulgi had about twenty-two thousand men with him when he left Larsa. Almost a thousand of those are now behind us, in Isin. I expect King Naxos will keep them there, but our men are still watching Isin and guarding the ditch in case those in the city try anything tonight.”

  He looked around the circle of commanders. “So in the morning we’ll face at least twenty one thousand men, perhaps more. We’ll be outnumbered more than four to one.” He paused to let the numbers sink in. Better they heard about the enemy’s strength tonight than when they first saw the enemy host in the daylight.

  “But many of the men Shulgi commands are unproven. They’ve been drawn from all over Sumeria, and they fight only for the prospect of loot, or because they’ve been ordered to war by their leaders. Almost ten thousand are nothing more than men carrying swords. Most have never fought a battle. Just as important, most of them have little loyalty to Shulgi. Their cavalry is well trained, and they’ve had plenty of experience fighting the desert tribes. Altogether, Shulgi still has at least three thousand horsemen, but almost half that number is drawn from the rabble of Tanukh desert-dwellers. That scum of the desert fight like jackals, attacking only when they have the advantage. Fashod has fought them in the past, even hunted them for sport. Hathor and his men have swept through two of their villages. He saw Tanukh men abandon their wives and children to flee with their horses. Tell them what you saw.”

  Eyes turned toward Hathor. “It’s true. They left their women, old men, and boys behind, to die defending their honor and tents. Very few stood and fought, and most of those only because we caught them before they could escape. Only a coward would leave his family to face death.”

  “The rest of Shulgi’s army is little better,” Eskkar went on. Our men have trained for this fight, some for as long as two years. We’ve out-marched the Sumerians in the last eleven days. We’ve destroyed Larsa, burned Uruk, and forced Isin to abandon its support for Shulgi’s cause. Even this place of battle is known to us, and the ground will favor our fighters. Shulgi will have only one tactic, to close with us as quickly as possible, and try to overwhelm us with their numbers. We have prepared even for that.”

  Again Eskkar looked out at the men standing behind the commanders’ circle. He saw no fear, no doubts. “Tomorrow we will do what the Sumerians least expect. They expect us to dig in and wait for their assault. Instead we will attack them. Our cavalry will strike their rear like a hammer, while our infantry will attack their front lines, an anvil of unbreakable strength. The Sumerians will be caught between the anvil and the hammer, and they will be crushed.”

  He paused to look around the circle once again.

  “Now it is time for the commanders to speak. If any of you have questions or doubts, speak now.” Eskkar had learned long ago to let the most junior commander speak first, so as not to be intimidated by the more experienced leaders, but this time he turned to Gatus, as the senior commander.

  “We could still attack at night,” Gatus said, “catch them off guard. My spearmen have practiced for a night battle.”

  Earlier, Eskkar had asked Gatus to speak of a night attack. Eskkar wanted the men to hear and understand all the reasons for the decision not to try and fight at night.

  “No.” Es
kkar put all the firmness into the single word that he could. “The Sumerians wait even now for us to attack. They are prepared for it, and if we attack now they will fight, because there is no place to run in the darkness. As the night passes, they will grow even more certain that we will come, if not during the night than at first light. Their soldiers will get little sleep tonight, and tomorrow their legs will be weak. In the morning, the Sumerians will be weary. They will see us advancing on their position. Doubt and fear will fill their throats, weaken their knees. What courage they have will fade away. They will look for any excuse to turn and run.”

  “And that excuse, what will it be?”

  Gatus’s rehearsed words sounded a bit awkward, but Eskkar doubted any of the soldiers listening nearby with open mouths would notice.

  “We are going to strike at the head of the Sumerians. Shulgi is all that holds them together, when they see him fall, or turn to flee, the battle will be over. He has only fought against the desert horsemen, never fought a real battle. So I will take the fight to him. Let us see if he is willing to face me.”

  One by one, he spoke to each commander, listened to what they had to say, answered any questions. None, he saw with satisfaction, needed any reassurance. All of them wanted to close with the enemy as much as he did.

  When everyone had had their say, Eskkar stood. “Make no mistake. Shulgi is a strong leader and his men will fight hard. But he lacks experience, and we will take advantage of that. We’ve trained for this battle for months. Tomorrow is the day we will win it. Commanders, repeat my words to those who could not be close enough to hear our voices. I want every man to know what he’ll face, and what to do. Then tell them to get as much rest as they can.”

  He picked up the map and tossed it to his clerk, who had stood nearby, open-mouthed, during Eskkar’s speech. The map wouldn’t be needed any more. “All of you will lead your men bravely, I know. Our soldiers have already proven themselves. They, like you, will know what to do. And tell them that I am proud to lead them into battle. And after we win, the spoils of Sumer will be ours. Good hunting to all of us tomorrow.”

  The fire had nearly burned out, and this time no one thought to replenish it. Eskkar strode into the darkness, but not to try and rest. Instead, he walked through the camp, talking to the men, repeating parts of what he’d said earlier. Again and again he spoke, each time with a hundred or more men clustered about him, more than a few reaching out to touch his arm. Many were in awe of him, of his reputation. He used that trust now. He had to rely on them tomorrow, and they needed to know that.

  As Trella had told him time after time, win the loyalty of your men and they will follow you wherever you lead. Long ago she had foretold him that that someday a thousand men or more would follow him into battle, no matter what the odds. At the time, he thought she spoke without thinking, or more likely, without understanding how hard it would be to command so many men. But as he’d often found with Trella, she always chose her words with care, and meant what she said. Tomorrow her prophecy would come true. Eskkar intended to lead Akkad’s soldiers against a mighty host, and he knew how much risk they all faced.

  At last Grond, who had stayed at Eskkar’s side as he moved throughout the camp, put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “It’s past midnight, Captain. You’ve spoken to enough of our men. They’ll spread your words. Time to get some rest, or you’ll be too tired to stand in the morning, let alone fight.”

  They returned to the camp fire, one of the few that still burned this late into the night. Eskkar threw himself down on his blanket. The stars shone overhead, and he remembered another night watching the stars cross the heavens, and knowing a fight to the death waited in the morning. Balthazar, an old shepherd, had taught him about the mysteries of the starry heavens that night. Eskkar wondered if the old man had found the peaceful life that he sought, surrounded by his kin. Balthazar might even still be alive. When this battle was over, if Eskkar survived, he decided he would send word to the shepherd, perhaps invite him to come visit Akkad. He was, after all, a companion in arms, one of the few who had fought at Eskkar’s side in the old days.

  Tired as Eskkar felt, sleep would not come. He knew that many of his men would be lying there, staring at the same heavens and wondering if they would live to see the sun set once again. Or wondering if they could face the enemy with courage. Tonight they would think about death and dying, about pain and blackness. Tomorrow they would stare into the eyes of their enemies. Each man would fight, not for Akkad, not for Eskkar, but to hold the respect of the men who stood beside him, his friends and companions. These men had trained together for months or even longer, and now the bonds of brotherhood would hold them fast, side by side, in the face of the enemy.

  He knew one thing for certain. Tomorrow a lot of men were going to die. His soldiers would follow him because he would lead, and they would show no fear. But deep down, inside their bowels, they would be afraid nonetheless.

  Eskkar had experienced fear before, but never felt the battle dread, nor the fear that sometimes gripped men the night before a battle, banishing sleep. But he worried nevertheless. The fate of Akkad might be decided tomorrow, even Trella’s life and that of his son, determined by the deaths of thousands of men he would lead into battle.

  He looked again at the sky. The stars seemed so peaceful as they moved across the night, but the priests claimed that the tiny sparks of light could foretell a man’s future. Eskkar wished he knew more about them, enough to read the ending to tomorrow’s battle. That meant more than his own fate. As long as Akkad defeated the Sumerians, he would be satisfied.

  Finally, he decided there was no use lying there, that he might as well be up and about. Instead, he closed his eyes for one last moment of rest, and fell into a troubled sleep.

  G rond, stretched out beside his friend, saw his captain’s body relax, and heard the soft snoring. Thank the gods, he thought. His friend would need all his strength in the morning. Grond let his own eyes close, though he slept lightly through the darkness, waking often and making sure each time that all was well, and that Eskkar’s restless sleep continued without interruption.

  56

  Day 12

  It seemed to Eskkar that he had just closed his eyes when Grond awoke him. Eskkar jerked himself upright. Sounds of men moving about were all around him, not the loud morning sounds of men yawning and complaining themselves awake, but the softer sound of men rising and preparing for battle, and trying to do it with as little noise as possible. When he got to his feet, Eskkar realized that everyone else was already fully awake. A quick glance at the fading moon told him dawn approached.

  “Nothing to see yet, Captain.” Grond held a heavy sack in his hand. “Gatus is moving the men in shifts down to the river and back, telling them to drink all they can hold. Every water skin will be filled.”

  Grond dropped the sack, and Eskkar heard a clanking noise from within. “A gift from Trella,” Grond said, as he untied the cord that held the sack closed. He lifted a bronze breastplate. “She says you’re to wear this when you ride to battle. Yavtar’s been lugging this up and down the Tigris and Euphrates for days. Says he’s glad to finally be rid of it. I think he was afraid someone would steal it.”

  Eskkar started to protest but Grond cut him off. “Don’t argue, Captain. You’ll need this today. Every archer will be aiming at your heart, and we can’t afford to lose you. At least until the battle’s won. Trella told me not to give it to you until just before the battle, so that you wouldn’t have a chance to lose it.”

  “Naxos had one like that.” Eskkar had never worn a breastplate. They were difficult to make and cost a great deal of gold. “Will it even fit me?”

  “We’ll see. Hold this.” Grond handed Eskkar the breastplate, picked up the back protector and began lacing the two parts together across Eskkar’s shoulders. A few quick tugs, and it slid into place. The two pieces fit perfectly, and Eskkar suddenly remembered Trella a few months ago spending wha
t seemed like half a morning measuring him for a new tunic.

  Grond fastened the sides together just above Eskkar’s waist, and the breastplate settled onto his chest.

  Eskkar took a deep breath, half expecting to find some excuse to avoid wearing the armor. He felt the weight of the bronze, but it moved smoothly and didn’t seem to affect his breathing. Nor did it seem that heavy, with its weight distributed over his shoulders. At least for now.

  Gatus strode over. “About time you were up. Thought you were going to sleep right through the fight. Did he give you any trouble about the bronze?” Gatus wore armor himself, but made of thick leather.

  “No, Gatus. I think I caught him before he fully woke. He hardly protested.”

  “Well, then that’s taken care of. I had half a dozen men waiting to force him into it.”

  Gatus laughed at the thought, and Eskkar wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. With Gatus, you never knew for certain.

  “The last of the food has been handed out, and the men are swelling their bellies with water. Everyone’s pissing like mad, either from too much to drink or because they’re scared to death. Watch where you step, there’s shit everywhere. I swear there’s not a tight bowel in any of them. Even I dropped a good load, always a good sign.”

  With the reminder, the strong odors of urine and shit caught Eskkar’s attention. The urge to relieve himself became urgent, and he, too, decided to walk down to the river. It was going to be a long and hot day. He splashed into the cool water and washed his face and hands, then drank until he could hold no more, forcing himself to swallow long after his thirst was satisfied, until his belly protested it could hold no more.

  His commanders were moving everyone into position when he returned. Grond waited there, holding Eskkar’s horse. The first rays of the sun were starting to lighten the eastern sky, and soon the sun would lift itself above the land of Sumeria. If the Sumerians planned to attack at dawn, they would find the Akkadians ready and waiting.