Yes, it is hard for a man such as the viz’ir to be refused. Irrational vengeance for a wounded pride is the most lethal combination of any emotion, as it lends itself toward compromised decisions. I hoped he would override his general in a vain attempt to heal or justify his wounded pride and inability to resolve the issue peacefully. In his mind, he would need to explain to the emperor his actions and contrive a story that did not call into question his judgment or abilities. Yes, power was situated on a knife’s edge of control, with one slip being the last—no second chances and no mercy.
A call to arms was issued, and the men scrambled toward their positions. The scouts arrived to inform us the messengers were dispatched and, as expected, were subsequently captured and replaced with our own messengers. The ring was given to the scout to be sent back to the Assyrian army command with the message of treason by the officer in question. It was hoped the situation would incite the commanders to start an inquisition and possibly a purge of the army’s officers.
It was time for Si-tatious and me to take up our positions. It was time to pay back a lesson in humility to those in power. It was time to set free my friends and all the people who had put their faith in me. I would not let them down. I would prevail.
I took my position at the front of the militia. I stood and looked at the men, some of them just boys, knowing many would not see another day. I felt their fear and anxiety, but I also saw their resolve and their stern looks of defiance. My stomach relaxed. I knew we would win with men like them. The soldiers in the Assyrian army were not of this caliber. They were mainly slaves drafted from various conquered nations with no choice but to comply. It was a determined heart that won wars—not the number of men.
“Men, stand up straight. Be resolved in your heart to win this battle or die fighting. Your loved ones are depending on you. The gods are on our side. Do not be afraid, for we will prevail!” I shouted out.
I moved to the front for all to see, set my spear into the earth and unbuckled my shield. I pulled my helmet down tighter onto my head and braced myself for the initial onslaught of men to come.
Horns continuously blared into the pockmarked sky of blue and white, issuing commands to the Assyrian soldiers. The militiamen held their ground and kept their peace. Shortly, the authority for the militiamen to move forward was granted, and we started to march toward the enemy one step at a time; no one broke rank. The shouts of the captains accompanied the horns and the stamping of feet.
Shortly, the Assyrian army came into view with staggering professionalism. They vastly outnumbered our militia. Did we make a mistake on the numbers? No, it seemed to be that way when confronted with so many men from the ground’s point of view. The horns were blowing out a command directing the flanks to move up. The air was thick with anticipation and fear. No man wants to die an early death. Only the insane greeted death with a perverse joy. Those men were ordinary metal workers, leather-smiths, laborers, and such. They had no desire to die that day, and we hoped most would not.
“Sir, it looks like we will have a fight on our hands,” a lieutenant quipped.
“Yes, it does. Let’s give those Assyrians something to remember us by,” I replied.
“We will give them more than memories. We’ll give them death for all eternity, commander.”
“Sounds good to me. Pull the men in tighter. Tell them to lower their shields and make sure their helmets are strapped on tight.”
“Yes, sir.”
I motioned for all of them to stop and waited for the Assyrians to make the first move. We did not have long to wait as a shadow spilled over the battlefield and a whistling sound greeted us. I bent down to shield myself as the arrows smashed down on us with a cry of death.
“Men, get under your shields and stay there until the volley is over,” I shouted out over my shoulder.
Cries of pain and shock were flung out to the sky as men were mowed down by four-foot shafts of oak with bronze-tipped heads. The arrows went through armor, splitting bone and soft tissue with assured whacks of triumph. Sometimes an arrow cleaved its way through one man and on into a second. It was not a pretty picture.
We stood up and began to march forward as arrows continually rained down through their uncompromising passages of death. The men closed ranks as the arrows hit their marks, but they continued forward with resolute focus.
A horn blew telling the flanks to begin their charge, and shouts soon rose up from either side as they raced toward the main Assyrian body. We picked up our pace and advanced with a trot, intent on meeting our enemy. The Assyrians splayed out their front in such a manner as a fan would, countering the expected flanking moves, thus weakening their center to our advantage.
“Si-taitious, move those men in closer. Keep the formation tight. Lieutenant, where are the archers? Why have they not fired yet?”
“Sir, they are positioning as we speak.”
“What? Are the archers only positioning now? Send back orders for them to begin their volley immediately.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Another horn was blown to instruct the men at the back of the Assyrian army to begin their fight. Shortly, the Assyrian front line began to falter and reel from the encirclement. The main body started to pull back onto itself to tighten its position and fight with a renewed vigor.
The militia and I reached the main body just before it splayed out to confront our flanking maneuvers. We crashed into them with such a din of metal on metal and men shouting that it soon began to confuse the senses.
A man with dark hair and meaty hands swung at me. I thrust my spear through his animal-hide shield with a twist and pulled it back to shove it again into his shocked face.
“What a waste. Perhaps that man was someone’s father or husband. No matter now. The job needs to be done. I need to become death to these people, or I will die myself,” I thought.
I kicked his shield while pulling my spear out of his gaping mouth and spun around to deflect a thrust from another soldier. Turning, I shoved my spear into the next man before feinting to the left and pushing to the right. Blood spat out of his mouth as he died there, on that unknown battlefield in a strange land.
I began to slow my perception of time down to increase the speed at which I could take on the enemy. Anticipation is the answer to any offensive move made by a foe. A subtle shift in body movement, eye position, or head stance gave away an enemy’s intention, and with those subtleties, I could immediately parry any action, subsequently killing the opponent.
Over the decades, I had honed my abilities to perfection. I knew the strategies to be employed and the countermoves to implement with deadly efficiency. The bodies began to pile up around me as I slew man after man.
The battle shifted from one of an aggressive attack by the Assyrians to a defensive one as all our men threw themselves into the fight with a ferocity that, until then, was unknown to them. The battle had to end that day, and a message saying we would not submit—ever—had to be delivered to the Assyrian army command.
“Si-taitious, watch your flank,” I yelled out while motioning for him to move.
“You want to tell me how to fight now, Talmido? Watch as I teach you how a free man fights,” he replied, laughing out loud.
Si-tatious swung and cleaved off the arm of a young man as he tried to defend himself. Then Si-taitious turned and decapitated another man not even out of his teens. A grin of vicious glee crept onto his face as he butchered those poor recruits.
Slowly the Assyrian soldiers were being hacked to pieces, and the realization of their plight began to dawn on them. Soon men began to lay down their arms—first by lone men and then by groups. I rushed past them toward the tents in the background, wanting to get to them before word of the impending defeat reached the viz’ir.
I ran with all my might—skirting the fighting and confusion with ease, jumping over dead and dying men, flinging myself over carts and crates—pushing with all the strength in my legs to reach the
Assyrian command tent in the center of their camp. Shortly, it came into view, so I slowed to a trot. I came upon it with a swift cut to a sentry’s throat and burst into the tent, looking for the viz’ir.
Standing to the right, he looked at me with complete surprise. He began to move, but I jumped over a table situated in front of me and grabbed him by the neck, putting my knife to his throat. The general was backing up, ordering the guards to kill me; however, the viz’ir, to his credit, countermanded the order and told them to stand down, fearing for his life, of course.
“Sound the horn for the army to stand down. Do it now or die,” I commanded.
The viz’ir nodded and gestured to the general, who immediately dispatched the order.
“Do as he says, General. The day is lost.”
“Yes, my lord. Sound the horns,” the general ordered.
Within minutes, the horn was blown, and the battle began to wind down. It was a great day for liberty, a day of rejoicing for freedom-loving people, and a pivotal day for future generations.
Chapter 30
The Spoils of Liberty
Surrender was never easy for an army. The surrender of the Assyrian army group was no exception. Pockets of men kept up the fight for a time until the inevitable outcome and the crushing weight of the encirclement became clear to them. Once all the opposing soldiers had been disarmed, they were marched a short way from the main battle area and made to sit down in the heat of the day. Guards watched over them as the cost of the battle was calculated.
In the end, the battle left 3,296 Assyrian soldiers dead and 1,140 Assyrian wounded compared to Talmido’s 2,824 killed and 1,783 wounded. Yes, it was a good battle, and the militiamen proved their mettle. They did not break under overwhelming odds or their lack of experience.
The men began the work of stripping the dead and burying them. The weapons and armor were cataloged and piled up for transport to the caravan. All the animals were collected and corralled for further processing. Each Assyrian prisoner was registered, given a wooden shovel, and told to bury their comrades. The work details took two days of uninterrupted labor to get everything ready to move out.
Meanwhile, Talmido and Si-tatious had the viz’ir and the general under tent arrest while being interrogated. The viz’ir was in denial of his predicament and could not come to understand that he had no negotiating position or power to effect any change in his circumstances. No amount of gold, land, or favors could change Talmido’s mind on the viz’ir’s ultimate position. Shortly after that, the viz’ir was marched out onto a public podium for execution. To his credit, he stood tall and defiant while looking out over the crowd with a sneer of condescension and pure hate. He was kicked to kneel and his head placed on a chopping block. The executioner brought his ax up high to effect a clean cut, and then swiftly cut off the viz’ir’s head, quickly throwing it into the pit of Assyrian bodies.
The general, however, decided early on to accept the defeat and move forward with the new circumstances to cooperate with his captors by providing all the Assyrian army’s strategic, logistical, and numerical information. The amount of information was quite significant and held considerable value.
All the Assyrian officers were incarcerated and separated from the Assyrian rank and file so as not to incite an organized rebellion. The soldiers were all interrogated and kept under arrest in a separate stockade. Once Talmido and Si-tatious had all the information and prisoners they felt they could reasonably attain, the order was sent out for the army group to move toward the caravan, positioned southeast of them. By that time, the convoy should have moved seventy-five leagues, if all had gone smoothly.
With whips snapping in the air and whistles cast out into the sky, the army group moved out, leaving behind a valley of graves, turned-up soil, and the odd belt or satchel lying about as evidence that something of significance had happened. After a season or two, nothing would be noticed as out of the ordinary, and neither the land nor the animals would remember the battle and the struggle of two opposing wills.
Talmido contemplated those and many more thoughts of substance, wondering at the futility of it all and the subsequent why. He shook his head with wonder and looked around himself at the tide of shuffling men and animals. Dust billowing up from the footsteps of thousands of men flew up into the air, blocking out the sun yet giving little relief to the biting flies. He wiped his brow and took a sip of water as his horse walked on.
This had been a great victory for his people, for justice, and for freedom, but for how long? He did not know and could not fathom what future events would befall him—not with such sweet victory hanging about his neck like a garland of flowers wafting their fragrance of mixed beauty into his mind’s consciousness. That day gave as much as one day could, and he was going to savor the delicate promise of future happiness. He did not want anything to interfere with that state of mind, so he laughed out loud, smiled broadly, and thanked the gods for the victory and the blessing of being alive, to live another day.
“What is so humorous, Talmido?” Si-tatious asked.
“The unbelievable temerity of it all,” he replied. “We have beaten overwhelming odds, Si-tatious. We have prevailed despite such adversity. Right now, we are alive and heading back to our loved ones and to another day of all that life can bring. What an unbelievable circumstance of fate. The gods must be smiling upon us. This must be their will, Si-tatious. Otherwise, what else would it be?”
“Yes, it must be due to the gods’ will, Talmido, and our perseverance, courage, and determination.”
“Of course, of course. Nothing would have transpired if we did not take matters into our own hands and take those decisive actions so many weeks ago.”
“Yes, the temerity of it all, Talmido,” Si-tatious said while slapping him on the shoulder and laughing along with him.
The men turned around in query, wondering at those two stalwart soldiers of adventure’s quest and liberty’s determined persistence. They too began to laugh; at first, they laughed in fitful starts, but eventually, the laughter moved up and down the ranks, releasing the built-up tension as the men marched south toward the open arms of their loved ones and the mourning of their lost friends.
Chapter 31
The Race
As Talmido rode on, he reminded himself of poems handed down to him by his father. The poems always had something to say about life, people and their motivations. There was one handed down for an untold number of generations, and he thought of that poem then.
Driving through the madness of hope
We take the road of heart’s leaning
Desiring for ourselves not the night’s black
But the day’s light of sunshine’s slope
The days and years toil to our wishes
Providing the results of works done
Laughing as we plan and scheme
Offering only the holy spaces
You who toil
Plow the fields
Are you satisfied
With pleasure’s soil?
Is this life but moment’s desire?
Taking hold of night’s hope
Waiting for light of day
While we plow away our mire?
Family’s love and intimacy
Intertwined with future’s loss
A legacy of life’s fruits
Nothing but our youth’s energy
You who toil
Build the fence
Hem in the time
With fear’s recoil
Turn to the hand that feeds
Hold fast the belly of full
Keep the tides of gladness
As time’s rush runs life’s seeds
Is it here that you are too late?
Looking at your life’s line
Knowing the cause of your life
Keeping hold of your mind’s spate
The two groups kept up a steady pace, moving southeast in their desire to meet at the foothills of the Zagros Mountains e
ast of the Tigris River before it veered steadily southwest toward the Euphrates River. It was decided if the army group were successful, they would winter at that site, resupply, set up diplomatic communication with the Elamites, and scout out the land above the Sea of Akkad for a suitable location to build a city. The emissaries arrived at the site before either group assembled and proceeded to send out scouting parties to find out if the caravan was on its way and if the army group had been successful or not.
Four days out, the scouts came upon the caravan slowly making its way across the barren land. The convoy was happy to know the emissaries were already at the predetermined rendezvous and had started preparing for its arrival. Twelve days out, the scouts came upon Talmido’s army and joyfully exclaimed their relief at seeing them. The scouts announced to all the successful movement of the caravan and the preparations being made at the rendezvous site.
Later, they delivered to Talmido the surprising answer from the Elamite king. Talmido took the parchment and unrolled it. As he scanned the cuneiform inscriptions, he became more and more agitated. The king of Elam was refusing to offer sanctuary or an alliance. It was a slap in the face to Talmido, so with measured calm, he rolled it back up and handed it to Si-tatious for reference.
This changed the dynamics of the voyage. Not only did the fleeing soldiers, slaves and new recruits have to be wary of the Assyrian and Babylonian armies, but now they needed to avoid offending the Elamites as well. That was going to be very, very tricky.
Talmido ordered the men to pick up the pace and move faster toward the caravan, understanding their precarious situation. Within six days, they arrived at the rendezvous to the joyous cries of their women and children, with song and dance welcoming them, but they also came to the mournful dirges of death songs and the weeping of families bereft of their husbands, sons, and fathers.
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