by Sam Barone
Loud voices, laughter, and the occasional oath soon filled the inn. The sounds were so familiar to Tammuz that he didn’t even wake up until Enhedu nudged his arm.
“Time to eat,” she said.
Tammuz remained at their space, while En-hedu fetched two greasy bowls only half full of stew, each with a hunk of bread protruding over the top. She made a second trip to bring the ale, watered down to be little stronger than what came out of the well down the lane. The food took the edge off their hunger, but did little else.
The rest of the night went as would be expected in such a place. Men came and went, women arrived to sell themselves, a few lucky men drank enough to get drunk. Two fights started. As the darkness deepened outside, the customers’ voices rose, and soon everyone had to practically shout to be heard. Twice men approached En-hedu to see if she were available, but Tammuz put his hand on his knife, and the men shrugged and turned away.
As the evening grew later and later, the grinning patrons left as they arrived, by ones and twos, until finally the innkeeper secured the door and put out the fire. Snoring men who had had too much to drink soon created another type of din, but Tammuz and En-hedu were used to that, too.
In the morning, they gathered their sacks and went out into the lane. They bought fresh bread in the market, then began searching for a tavern to purchase. En-hedu expected this to be a simple enough process. Buying an inn shouldn’t be any more complicated than buying a house, just a slightly larger one. Anyone could call a one-room hut a tavern, and more than a few proprietors did just that. Larger establishments, like the one they stayed at last night, would cost more coins to acquire, but En-hedu thought that they should be able to purchase a good-sized place for twenty silver coins or so. Nevertheless, Yavtar had warned them of the difficulties they might encounter.
Before the sun reached its peak in the sky, they found one not far from the docks that looked promising. After studying it, they approached the owner.
“Can’t sell to you,” the prospective seller said. “Wish I could, but only King Eridu’s men can buy and sell a tavern in Sumer now. A new law, passed only a few months ago. Just another tax, really.”
“Then how do we buy one?” Tammuz asked.
“Fresh from the farm, I see.” The man laughed. “Well, first, you have to bribe a local merchant or trader to represent you. Then he and the seller set the price, which will be higher than you expect, so they can both make an extra profit off you. And in addition to the price, you’ll pay another silver coin to King Eridu’s men.”
“What trader would you recommend?” En-hedu asked.
“One’s as bad as the other. You’ll probably have to wait all day or even longer just to see one.” The innkeeper lowered his voice. “Then, a few days after the sale, you may find yourself turned out of your place by Eridu’s cronies at the palace. They don’t like people from the countryside buying establishments in Sumer. So once they’ve taken your coins, unless the king and his people approve of you, they just take your property and turn you out.”
The proprietor shook his head at the injustice. “If you find someone to help you, come back. I’d love to take a profit and return to Nippur. I was born there, and now I have a farm and wife waiting there for me.”
En-hedu and Tammuz thanked the helpful innkeeper and turned away. They found a shady spot against a wall where they could sit. The smell of urine wasn’t too bad, and the people passing by ignored them, as they would any beggars.
“We can’t take a chance on something like that happening,” Tammuz said. “If we’re turned out, we’ll never be able to buy another one without arousing suspicion.”
“That means we’ll have to go to Merchant Gemama. If he arranges it, we’ll be able to buy this place without dealing with King Eridu’s men.”
Yavtar had advised them to seek Gemama’s assistance if they needed it, but warned them of the danger as well.
“As soon as we mention Yavtar’s name, he’ll know we’re spies,” Tammuz said.
“Perhaps not. And even if he does, if he denounces us, we can do the same to him,” En-hedu said. “And what we’ve heard of King Eridu, even an accusation would be enough of an excuse to seize Gemama’s property, or at the very least demand a large bribe from the merchant.”
Since Eridu’s return to Sumer, his rule of the city had turned into a nightmare for its inhabitants. King One-hand, as he was now called behind his back, had already killed more than a dozen people for the slightest of reasons. He’d raised taxes twice, desperate to recover the ransom he’d paid, not to mention the gold wasted on the lost campaign. Men, weapons, horses, food – Eridu had expended huge amounts of gold in the last year and now had nothing to show for it. The people’s unhappiness showed in their sullen faces, especially the women. Many had lost a husband or son in the fighting.
“Then we might as well get it over with,” Tammuz said.
They walked the dusty lanes until they found Gemama’s house. The guard at the gate refused them entry, of course, until they produced a copper coin to show their good intentions. So early in the day, Gemama wasn’t home, so they waited, along with four other prospective clients, for their chance to speak to the merchant.
“We might be here for the rest of the afternoon, and he still might not see us,” Tammuz complained.
“Then we’ll return in the morning, or try and see him at the docks.”
The other petitioners ignored them, two country bumpkins who looked as poor as any grubbing farmer. Fortunately for Tammuz and Enhedu, Gemama must have had a good day’s trading, for he returned to his house well before the sun began to set.
As he walked through the gate, he glanced over those waiting to see him. When he caught sight of Tammuz and En-hedu, his eyes widened with curiosity. No doubt he seldom dealt with anyone as poor as they appeared to be.
Everyone still had to wait. Gemama had his own needs to satisfy before he bothered with seeing anyone who might wish to do business with him. Naturally, Tammuz and En-hedu had to sit patiently until the others had been taken, one by one, to conduct their affairs with the merchant.
When Tammuz and En-hedu were led inside the garden, they found Gemama sitting at a wide table not far from the entrance to his house. The merchant yawned, clearly looking forward to his supper. Two nakhla trees – as the date palms were called in Sumeria – provided a canopy to block the sun from their owner. A frowning clerk sat at the far end of the table, wet clay and wooden chisel in hand, ready to record anything of interest. A small wooden box rested before him, no doubt filled with a handful of coins received or dispensed at the merchant’s pleasure.
“What do you want?” Gemama began, not wishing to waste any time.
“Please, Noble,” En-hedu began, bowing low before raising her eyes. “We wish to purchase a tavern in Sumer. My Uncle Yavtar said we should speak with you if we needed any assistance in buying an inn. We are willing to pay you a small fee each month, if you can help arrange the purchase. My uncle said he has traded with you before. We come from the village of Ubaid. He has a farm there.”
En-hedu watched Gemama’s eyes at the mention of Yavtar’s name, but the merchant didn’t react. No one became a master trader who let his thoughts cross his face. Besides, while Yavtar’s name wasn’t a common one, neither was it unique enough to stand out.
“I don’t remember anyone from Ubaid,” Gemama said. He lifted his ornately carved wine cup, inhaled the aroma for a long moment, then drained it. “Bring me another,” he said to his clerk, pushing the cup toward him. He drummed his fingers on the table. “You wish to purchase a tavern, you say?”
“Yes, Noble. We’ve found one –”
By then the clerk was across the garden. “First refresh my memory of your Uncle Yavtar.”
En-hedu, whose mind excelled at matching faces and names, gave a good description of the Akkadian trader.
Gemama nodded. “Yes, I remember your uncle.”
“We have the silver to buy t
he tavern, and we can pay you something for your help, Noble,” she added. “My uncle said to tell you he would again be in your debt.”
The clerk returned, carefully carrying the wine cup in both hands, so as not to spill any. A clumsy servant who drank part of it himself, or claimed to have spilled it, would find the price of the drink taken from his meager earnings. A slave would simply be beaten. The clerk set it down on the table close to his master’s hand.
“Well, if you can pay, then I suppose I must honor an old friendship,” Gemama said, frowning in his reluctance. “You will pay me one silver coin now, in addition to what the seller asks for his tavern, and the fee that must be paid to King Eridu. Then you will pay me one silver coin each month for a year. You have enough for all that?”
“Yes, Noble,” En-hedu said, forcing a smile despite the steep prices. “We have just enough, Noble.” With the clerk there, it wouldn’t do to admit to have more coins. He might have friends of his own who would be interested in relieving two strangers of their wealth.
Gemama rose. “Return here in the morning. Ask for Melchior,” he nodded to his assistant. “My clerk will take care of everything.”
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. En-hedu and Tammuz both bowed several times before walking quickly from the garden.
Once in the lane outside, Tammuz led the way. “He suspects us already.”
“More than suspects. He knows,” En-hedu agreed. “Yavtar said Gemama knew war was coming. But he’s earned even more of Yavtar’s favor for this, and at very little risk. If the war goes badly for Sumer, Yavtar will protect him. If Sumer wins, then we can be denounced or killed at any time.”
Tammuz spat on the ground. “Sumer will never beat Akkad. Look at the people’s faces. They’ve been defeated once. They’ve had a bellyful of fighting.”
“For now,” En-hedu said. “But in six months, even a year, things may change.”
“Only the gods know for sure.” Tammuz put his arm around Enhedu’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Only one more night at that wretched inn. With luck, tomorrow evening we’ll sleep in a place of our own once again.”
“Then tomorrow night, I promise to pleasure you with my new skills.”
“Then whatever we pay for the tavern, it will be well worth the cost.”
16
King Eridu pounded his fist on the table so hard the heavy wood shook under the impact. “What do you mean, they cannot come? How dare they refuse my summons!” A fleck of spittle driven by the force of his words hung unnoticed at the corner of his mouth.
Five men sat at Eridu’s council table, and not one of them lifted his eyes to meet the enraged king of Sumer. Razrek, in charge of the king’s soldiers, sat at Eridu’s left. Shulgi, Eridu’s son and second in command under Razrek, sat at his father’s right. The three remaining men represented cities in Sumeria: Hammurat, from Larsa; Kuara from Isin; and Emenne, from Lagash. The representatives from Nippur and Uruk had failed to arrive. Each sent a messenger pleading urgent business that kept them at home.
The sound of birds chirping came from the garden below, their cheerful notes enhanced by the silence that followed King Eridu’s rage. At last Kuara, chief advisor to Naxos, the king of Isin, lifted his eyes. “They did not come, King Eridu, because they will not support a second attack on Akkad’s border. They know the time is not yet right to start another war. As does my own King Naxos of Isin. Everyone knows the barbarian Eskkar keeps his promises. One more raid on his lands, and the war will come south. It will be the cities and villages and farmlands of Sumeria that will face devastation and destruction.”
“So Isin is afraid to fight,” sneered Eridu.
Kuara reached out with his right hand to lift his wine cup. He took a small sip before setting it back on the table. He possessed only a thumb and forefinger on that hand. The subtle gesture sent a message to Eridu. Kuara had once fought as a soldier for King Naxos, until an enemy sword stroke cut off his fingers. As men told the story, Kuara still managed to kill his opponent, despite the severity of his wound.
“Isin will fight when the time is suitable, when what we expect to gain outweighs the risks.”
Eridu snorted. “Now your warrior king is a merchant, weighing profit and loss?”
Kuara shook his head in resignation. “The land Akkad holds is needed by Isin even more than Sumer. We will fight to take that land, take what is ours. Many men in Isin are eager to wage war against Eskkar, and King Naxos will supply more than his share of fighting men when the time is right. But now is not that time.”
“That is the same concern of King Naran, which he wished to convey to you.” Hammurat of Larsa spoke with a hint of passion in his voice. Tall and spare, he had advised the king of Larsa for many years. “Larsa needs time to strengthen its walls and build up its defenses. If the barbarian comes south, Larsa will be the first to feel his fury.”
“Your King Naran was eager enough to cross the Sippar and seize the farmlands,” Eridu said. “And to take the largest share of what we captured. Now you want to hold back? While the Akkadians increase their strength?”
“Larsa took the larger share because we took the greatest risk, and many of our men died in the fighting.” Hammurat shook his head. “We will send our soldiers across the border when a victory can be assured. Perhaps in a year or two –”
“King Naran and the others will send more men at once!” Eridu’s hand shook with anger. “The sooner we attack, the faster Akkad will be destroyed!”
“Neither Larsa, nor Isin will send more soldiers at this time,” Kuara said. “Nor will the other cities. This is the message King Naxos of Isin told me to bring to you. Eskkar’s forces are too strong to challenge again.”
Mentioning the name of Akkad’s ruler brought even more fury to Eridu’s already red face. Veins bulged on his forehead. “The other cities will obey me! They will provide me with men and gold, or I’ll have Razrek level their cities to the ground!”
Kuara turned his gaze toward the leader of Eridu’s soldiers. “What do you say, Razrek? Will you lead your men against our cities?”
“Razrek will do as I ask,” Eridu said, his fist clenching once again.
“Is the man who led the attacks on the border not allowed to speak for himself?” Kuara’s words remained soothing, intended to calm Eridu’s anger. “Is this a council of equals, or are we just summoned here to hear King Eridu’s pronouncements?”
Everyone’s eyes went to Razrek, who shifted uneasily in his chair. “I think it would be unwise to bring force against our allies,” Razrek said. “It’s one thing to call for war against a common enemy. But many of my soldiers are from these cities. They would likely desert rather than fight their own kin. The Akkadians are hated by all, but Larsa, Isin … all the Sumerian cities … the men would wonder why we went to war against our allies.”
The fingers on Eridu’s remaining hand trembled. “You are saying you cannot lead your own men? They … you will refuse my orders?”
“No, my king. My men and I will fight at your command. But I still think now is not the right time to resume the war on Akkad. Or to start a new fight against the other cities of Sumeria.”
“Nor do I,” Kuara said. “You’re consumed with rage and hatred for Eskkar. You want to attack him and punish him for what he did to you, and you want to do it now.”
“He will suffer. I swear Eskkar’s head will hang over Sumer’s gate. As will yours, Kuara, and all of you, if you do not obey my orders.”
Kuara leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “The people of Isin are not yet your slaves, King Eridu. And if any harm should come to me – to any of us – Sumer will find itself at war with the other cities. King Naxos knows the ways of war quite well.” Kuara glanced at Hammurat and Emenne, who nodded agreement. Clearly, Kuara spoke for all of them.
“You have less than half the number of men you had when you crossed the border,” Kuara went on, “and many of these are replacements, raw recruits
fresh from the farm. Even worse, any mention of attacks against Lord Eskkar convinces more and more of your experienced men to desert. They believe he cannot be beaten in battle, and they do not want to face his Akkadian archers again.”
“He can be beaten!” Eridu shouted, half-rising from his chair. “He’s an ignorant barbarian and he will be killed, his army destroyed!”
“How?”
The single word hung in the air. Eridu’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“I ask again.” Kuara kept all emotion from his voice. “How will you defeat him? By marching north? By walking into Akkadian arrows again? By attacking the man who defeated the Alur Meriki in three battles, and who killed the Egyptian and all his men who tried to capture Akkad? By challenging the man who just destroyed half your army and cut off your hand?”
At the mention of his lost hand, Eridu’s fury increased until the large vein on his forehead bulged and threatened to burst and cover the table in blood.
“We’ll raise more men,” Eridu said. “We can raise three, four times as many soldiers as Akkad.”
Kuara shook his head. “Ask Razrek. Ask your son, Shulgi. Will numbers guarantee success against the barbarian? You yourself had him outnumbered by four to one, yet your men were defeated, and he scarcely lost a man. King Naxos and I spoke to some of the survivors. They saw how few casualties the Akkadians took. Eskkar could have killed his prisoners or kept them as slaves, but he was cunning enough to let the defeated soldiers live, let them go free so that they would tell everyone in Sumeria what they faced. Eskkar spoke with all of them, and warned them of their fate if he ever captured them again. He knows how to bend even his enemies to his will. Our soldiers said his men treated him almost like a god. They were in awe of him.”