Dawn of Empire

by H A CULLEY

  The next volley was better aimed and struck the Babylonian archers waiting for the enemy to come within range. Mutu-Namaha came riding back to ask his father for orders. He realised that they couldn’t just stand there and take this form of punishment for very long. His father nodded and ordered both the chariots and the camel archers to charge. He knew that he was taking a risk, but the Assyrian chariots were toiling up the hill and he was banking on his men being able to damage the foot archers and return before the enemy chariots could reach them.

  First the chariots and then the camels passed in front of the advancing Assyrians. Their arrows tore into the enemy whilst they, in response, had the usual difficulty in hitting fast moving targets. As the Babylonians completed their pass and turned to head back up the hill, the enemy chariots on both flanks chased them. However, they soon came within range of the slingers on the hillsides and the Babylonian archers. They both targeted the horses and many were wounded or killed. The wounded caused more damage than the dead as they bolted, trying to evade the pain, or reared up and upset the chariots.

  Whilst they were in disarray the Babylonian chariots and camels charged into them and completed their disruption. Those that could do so withdrew and many fled the field. However, Balshazzar managed to rally a few of them and kept them in reserve. The advancing infantry now had to negotiate the damaged chariots on the flanks, causing their line to bow. Hammurabi’s archers sent two more volleys at the advancing enemy, then withdrew to the rear as the Assyrian spearmen reached them. The Babylonian spearmen stepped forward to meet the enemy’s convex line and started to push it back.

  At that moment Mutu-Namaha signalled the detachment on top of one of the hills by flashing his dagger in the sunlight. They in turn signalled the waiting camel archers and the horsemen behind the hill with their copper mirror and they rode around to the rear of the enemy.

  Their appearance dismayed Mut-Askur, who was standing in his chariot at the rear of his spearmen and, seeing that he was about to be trapped, he turned his chariot and fled ignominiously from the field of battle. The flight of their king and the attack by the camel archers on their rear panicked the Assyrians and some of them started to run. Panic is infectious and soon their retreat turned into a full scale rout.

  The horsemen and the camel archers chased them back into Assyria and only stopped when Assur came in sight. As was the way of these things, more Assyrians died as they fled than had fallen on the field of battle. Later on, Mutu-Namaha calculated that between eight and nine thousand Assyrians had died compared to just under two thousand Babylonians. Another five thousand Assyrians had been captured.

  However, the victory was the last thing on Mutu-Namaha’s mind. During the later stages of the battle Balshazzar, who was incandescent with fury as he saw his opportunity to revenge himself on his enemies fading away, led a charge by the handful of chariots that he had managed to rally. With complete disregard for his own safety, he decided to try and kill Hammurabi in a last ditch attempt to turn the tide. It was doomed to failure but, just before Balshazzar’s chariot was overwhelmed and he was killed, he had sent one final arrow towards Hammurabi. It had struck the king in the leg and had nicked an artery. The priest-surgeons were doing their best to stem the loss of blood but he was getting weaker. Eventually one of them came out of the king of king’s pavilion where they were treating him and took the increasingly agitated Mutu-Namaha to one side.

  ‘Lord king, the King of Kings continues to lose blood and we can’t stop it. The only thing I can suggest is that we remove the leg and then we can cauterise the stump.’

  Mutu-Namaha looked at Narem-Suen, who had come over to join him. They conferred briefly and then Mutu-Namaha nodded to the priest. A little while later another priest came out of the pavilion and approached Mutu-Namaha.

  ‘He wants to talk to you, lord king.’

  He knelt beside his father and gently took his hand.

  ‘Mutu-Namaha, I know that I haven’t got long so listen to me.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, father. They are going to remove your leg and stop the bleeding.’

  Hammurabi shook his head. ‘I am too old; it’ll kill me. I don’t mind, though. It’s time for me to go and it means that I’ll be with your mother soon.’

  Mutu-Namaha wept. ‘But what will we do without you? You are the rock on which the empire is built.’

  ‘You will send a messenger to Samsu-Iluna and tell your brother that he is now the King of Kings. Tell him that it’s my wish that he makes Uktannu King of Sumeria. With the support of you, Narem-Suen and Uktannu, he will be fine.’ He paused and for a moment he lost consciousness, then he made an effort and opened his eyes again.

  ‘One final thing.’ Mutu-Namaha had to put his ear to his father’s mouth to hear the failing voice. ‘With the death of Nikanuur, tell him to make Haban the supreme army commander until Rimush is experienced enough to take over.’ He paused, his breathing laboured. Then he whispered, ‘Marduk protect you … my sons,’ before losing consciousness again.

  The priests took him away to remove his wounded leg but it was too much for him and he died before the bronze saw was halfway through the bone.

  ~#~

  Samsu-Iluna stood proudly in his chariot as he entered Babylon with Darya and their six year old son, Abi-Eshuh, by his side. The boy gazed about him, his eyes as wide as saucers. The crowd yelled their enthusiastic support for his father and threw flowers in front of his chariot. Samsu-Iluna had wept long and hard when the news of Hammurabi’s death reached him and, for a time, he felt lost and alone without him. Although he had been the ruler of a large kingdom for a decade, his father had always been there to guide and advise him. Now he was on his own and, moreover, he was the King of Kings of all of Mesopotamia from the Gulf in the south to the borders of Syria and Assyria in the north.

  As soon as the news of Hammurabi’s death had spread, the unrest had started. Two of the cities in Sumeria had revolted – Shurruppak and Uruk – and recapturing them had been messy. Now Elam was being a nuisance again, making border raids into Eshnunna, which was keeping Mutu-Namaha busy. All this had made Samsu-Iluna realise that his father had held the empire he had created together by the force of his personality and his reputation. He sighed. Filling his shoes was going to test him to the limit, but he was determined to keep hold of everything that he had inherited and pass it onto his son.

  He looked down fondly at Abi-Eshuh and ruffled the boy’s hair.

  ‘One day, my son, they will be acclaiming you as King of Kings.’

  ‘No, father. For you will always be king,’ the boy said optimistically and clung to his father’s hand, wishing it could be true.

  ‘I hope to live a long time, Abi-Eshuh, but no-one lives for ever. Not even Hammurabi.’

  Historical Novels by H A Culley

  The Normans Series

  The Bastard’s Crown

  England in Anarchy

  Caging the Lyon

  Seeking Jerusalem

  Babylon Series

  Babylon – The Concubine’s Son

  Babylon – Dawn of Empire

  Individual Novels

  Magna Carta

  Robert the Bruce Trilogy

  The Path to the Throne

  The Winter King

  After Bannockburn (To be published in January 2015)

  About the Author

  H A Culley served in the Army for twenty four years during which time he had a variety of unusual jobs. These included commanding an Arab unit in the desert for three years and a tour as the military attaché in Beirut in the late seventies.

  After leaving the Army he became the business manager of a large independent school for twenty years before moving into marketing and fundraising. He has also been involved in two major historical projects and worked for an educational charity until recently. He is now retired but is still involved in the voluntary sector.

  He has given talks on historical subjects for several years and the research in
volved provided his inspiration for writing historical fiction.

  He has three adult children and lives near Holy Island in Northumberland with his wife and two Bernese Mountain Dogs.