by Sam Barone
“Then came the war with Sumer,” Escander said. “That’s when my grandfather proved once and for all his greatness as a leader. His tactics in that war are still talked about among the soldiers.”
Trella shook her head. “The only thing good about that war was that the actual fighting ended quickly. Eskkar gambled his life and the existence of Akkad in one battle, and only his skill as a leader saved them both.”
“The cities of Sumeria still defer to our leadership.” Escander’s tone implied that it would always be so. “We can take care of the Sumerians if need be.”
“Ah, the arrogance of youth, who thinks that what is, will always be. I hoped you would know better. Yes, they still respect our power. Just as they wait for Akkad to make the slightest mistake, so they can attempt to overthrow our rule once again.”
Trella had spent most of her life in that struggle, determined to ensure that the city of Akkad never made that mistake, never lost its power. Still, it remained a natural conflict of interests that would likely never end.
He nodded, accepting her rebuke. “I take nothing for granted, Grandmother. I lay down each night to sleep wondering if I will awake in the morning.”
“A wise thought to keep in your head.” Trella let her mind return to the past. “Where was I? Oh, yes. After the Sumerian War, we overcame other minor battles and skirmishes, raids and marauders, good crop years and bad. Despite all these difficulties, the city grew greater and stronger each day. Akkad spread to both sides of the Tigris, and Eskkar built this palace for us on the west bank.”
She paused for a moment, remembering those happy days. “But after many years of peace, we were caught by surprise when the new threat of war came from the east. Eskkar looked to his son to assist him. But Sargon, your father, had grown into a rebellious and lazy young man. A great disappointment to us both. He sorely tried your grandfather’s temper, which Eskkar could never quite control.”
“I’ve heard that King Eskkar could bellow and roar like a lion, though never at you, Grandmother.” Escander squeezed her hand again. “But my father, a disappointment? I’ve never heard anything about that.”
“Few remember those days,” Trella said, “and even fewer want to speak about them. So while Akkad basked in prosperity, a new war loomed. Meanwhile, your father, the heir to the kingdom, wasted his time drinking, gambling, and whoring with friends as shiftless as himself, despite our strictest commands. That’s when a stranger arrived from Sumeria, and brought with him the first stirrings of the Great War to come.”
“Ah, the mysterious stranger, whose name no one knows.”
Trella smiled. “In truth, at that time no one in Akkad knew his name or face, save Eskkar.”
“But now . . . after so many years? Why is his name kept secret?”
“Because if he still lives, he might yet be of help to Akkad in the future. The bond between him and Eskkar proved stronger than time or distance. And even if he has passed beyond the veil, he will have whispered his secrets to his heirs, and his sons may yet honor the bond that exists between our families. So to this day, only Sargon and I know his name. Now I will share that secret with you. The man’s name was Bracca, and he was a companion of Eskkar’s during much of his youthful wanderings. They shared so many dangers that each owed the other his life.”
“I’ve never heard that name. And after this Bracca came, King Eskkar went north once again, to the barbarian lands, to seek allies.”
“No, that’s not the way it happened. You must learn patience. Always you want to jump ahead in the story, just as you did as a child. At that time, Eskkar’s focus remained on Akkad’s old enemy, the barbarian clan from the steppes, the Alur Meriki.” She shifted in her chair. “Even in the steppes you will find enemies.”
“Enemies? But I’ve offended no one outside the Palace, let alone in the north.”
“Eskkar had many enemies throughout the land, even among the clans of the steppes, and some of them may still be alive. Those who’ve died may have passed their hatred of your grandfather to their children. Blood feuds can span generations. Your name will bring danger from many sides, and you will have few friends to stand by you. That is why the test worries your father so much.”
“But if I survive . . . if I return?”
“You will survive. I see Eskkar’s spirit in you, and that gives me hope. He always managed to outwit his foes.”
“He had you to help him, Grandmother. And the luck of the gods. I’ve heard those stories, how he often gambled his life in some desperate battle, trusting to chance to see him through. But my luck remains to be tested.”
“Don’t believe all those tales about your grandfather’s luck, Child. Eskkar succeeded because he always managed to anticipate and outwit his enemies. Every one of his foes underestimated both his courage and his wits. Now, try to keep silent for a few moments.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Where was I? Oh, yes, the stranger came to our house – we still lived in the Compound across the river then – to speak to Eskkar. The Great War had already begun, though Eskkar and I didn’t realize we were at war. By the time we found out what had happened, it was nearly too late. Our enemy had already plotted our downfall, and sent the first of his minions into our midst, to spy on Akkad and its allies.”
“But everyone said how strong and powerful Akkad was.”
“You said you wanted to hear the truth, all the secrets. Now pay attention, and listen to the truth about your father, Sargon. And learn about the cunning of the Great King of the Elamite Empire. What you hear might just save your life.”
She sighed. “I remember the night it all started, the night the stranger arrived to see your grandfather and brought with him the news, both good and bad, of what was to come.”
1
3130 BC, the Palace of King Shirudukh of Elam, in the City of Anshan . . .
General Jedidia shifted his weight once again, the hard stone of the bench growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant surroundings, he much preferred the back of a horse and galloping over rough terrain, rather than the unyielding seat beneath him.
Tall and dark, Jedidia appeared as fierce as any of his hardened soldiers. Black hair half concealed a wide brow, and his hook nose jutted arrogantly from beneath deep set brown eyes. A thick beard covered his chin and reached well onto his muscular chest. A fighting man, Jedidia had earned the respect of the men he commanded. He had little interest in any other accolades.
The narrow waiting area, just outside the main garden of King Shirudukh’s Palace, offered its own collection of flowers and shrubs, but Jedidia no longer noticed either their beauty or pleasing fragrance.
Instead he sensed the hint of danger that always lurked within the walls of the Palace. Not all the men summoned before King Shirudukh survived the invitation. A man of violent and unpredictable moods, the King had little patience for any who displeased him, let alone dared disobey him. Those unfortunates often departed missing a finger or two, or even a hand.
Jedidia grimaced at the thought. In battle, he’d faced death often enough, and with less concern. But this intolerable waiting galled him. The unexpected summons could mean anything. Whatever the reason, Jedidia felt in his bones something important in the wind. Whether a death sentence or a promotion remained to be seen.
A small serving table, provided by King Shirudukh’s servants, offered fat dates, red grapes, and slices of golden melon, neatly arranged and surrounded by fresh flowers.
Nevertheless, the tempting morsels lay untouched. Neither General Jedidia, nor the other two occupants of the small courtyard, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, or Lord Modran, felt any desire to eat before meeting with their sovereign. Only a fool ate, or drank for that matter, before an audience with King Shirudukh. A slight belch or worse, a loud fart, might be interpreted by the King as a sign of disrespect.
Each of the three generals occupied a bench of his own. Across from Jedidia slouched the short and slightly rotu
nd Grand Commander Chaiyanar, eyes closed, his head lolling back against the wall. Soft, Jedidia thought, soft but cunning. On the bench beside Chaiyanar’s, Lord Modran, handsome and vain, stretched out his lean frame, legs askew. No hint of softness in Modran, Jedidia knew. The man could fight or ride with anyone.
As usual, Jedidia felt uneasy in their presence. His blunt words and common upbringing contrasted against their more polished tones, and he lacked their skills in dealing with the King. Both men looked down on Jedidia, dismissing him as a simple soldier who had risen from the ranks.
And they were right. When Jedidia was ten years old, his father had sold him to the King’s soldiers. After a brutal upbringing among the soldiers, Jedidia had fought his way to the rank of general in less than fifteen years.
For the next ten years, Jedidia had killed the King’s enemies, as the Empire of the Elamites continued its remorseless expansion. Now, approaching his thirty-sixth season, Jedidia preferred nothing more than a hard fight and the opportunity to bring the terror and horrors of war down upon his enemy’s head.
After exchanging a few forced pleasantries on their arrival, none of the generals had spoken for some time. Each of them resented and distrusted the other two, a natural enough situation when vying for the King’s favor, and the subsequent increase in power that flowed to his current favorite. Who, Jedidia mused, would occupy the most favored place after today?
Summoned by their King to appear at midmorning, they entered the Palace only to learn from Shirudukh’s chamberlain that the King found himself delayed by important matters of state, and would the three generals excuse the slight delay. Jedidia’s teeth had clenched at the chamberlain’s hint of a smile. They might be generals in command of thousands, but here in the Palace, they awaited their summons like any supplicant.
From where he sat, Jedidia could hear the important matters himself. At least three women’s voices on the other side of the wall, all of them chattering, laughing, or moaning with pleasure, no doubt faked for their master’s gratification. Meanwhile, the King’s most senior commanders continued to wait, as the ruler of the Elamite Empire indulged his desires, his pleasure likely enhanced by his awareness of the anxiety of those waiting to see him.
None of the generals complained, of course. If anyone expressed the slightest sign of impatience or anger, the other two would be certain to repeat it to the King. Even a hint of disloyalty could be fatal. The less said, the better.
General Jedidia glanced again at his rivals. He despised the soft Chaiyanar and scorned the arrogant Modran. Both men held similar feelings about Jedidia. The three had hated each other for years, as they clawed their way to the top of Elam’s armies.
Only fear of the King’s power kept them from each other’s throats. As a smiling Shirudukh often reminded them, they were the three legs of the stool that supported his power. Jedidia had always bristled at that humiliating image, though he forced a smile to his face.
Shirudukh understood the ways of power. He kept his generals and their armies at a distance, maintaining only a small but loyal force in the capital city of Anshan for his personal protection. All the traders and merchants operated under his rule and those of his advisors.
The knowledge needed to govern a large empire rested only in Shirudukh’s hands. Any senior commander who showed the slightest interest in such matters soon disappeared.
The sun climbed higher and higher, and Jedidia saw that midday had come and gone, yet Shirudukh kept them waiting. The heat grew more oppressive, and Jedidia felt the sweat under his arms.
Even so, the pitchers of water that rested on the table remained untouched. No one dared be away taking a piss should the summons come. Nor, once the meeting began, would any of them ask for permission to leave. The King tolerated no slights either to his authority or his presence. Even his generals were expected to hold their water until Shirudukh dismissed them.
At last the gate to the inner garden creaked open, and a servant appeared, bowing low before the chafing generals. “The King is ready to see you, My Lords.”
With a breath of relief, Jedidia rose, stretching his shoulders. Chaiyanar, closest to the gate and moving faster than the others, fell into place behind the servant. Modran managed to step in front of Jedidia, forcing him to bring up the rear.
Their guide hurried them out of the courtyard, nodding to the four soldiers guarding the entrance, and into the Palace’s main garden. The ever-vigilant guards took a few moments to insure that the visitors remained unarmed, despite the fact that the three men had already surrendered their weapons when they arrived at the Palace.
Inside, small trees along the inner walls provided shade, and their pink blossoms added to the scented air. Pots filled with white and yellow jasmine bloomed, interspersed with shrubs speckled with glistening crimson berries. A wide buff-colored linen cloth, stretched over four supporting poles, provided shade for the King, who rested on a raised divan covered with pillows.
A young boy, no more than eleven or twelve, wielded a large fan to provide a breeze for the Empire’s ruler. But even the blossoming flowers could not compete with the strong, almost rank perfume from the King’s three slave girls, all of them naked, who lounged at Shirudukh’s feet.
One of the girls, still flushed from her recent exertions, rested her breast again Shirudukh’s leg, as she ran her fingers along his inner thigh. After a quick glance at the visitors, the slaves returned their adoring eyes to the King, each one eager to be the next to satisfy his slightest desire.
The peaceful setting contrasted with the presence of the King’s guards, tough and brutal soldiers who obeyed only King Shirudukh. They stood with their backs to the walls, their eyes fastened on the visitors. Jedidia counted eight of them, and knew another twenty waited just beyond the garden, ready to respond to any threat against the King.
“Ah, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, Lord Modran, General Jedidia, it is good to see my victorious generals again.” Tall and broad, King Shirudukh possessed a booming voice that filled the garden. Long brown hair, carefully arranged, reached to his shoulders. A long nose protruded over a wide mouth and thick lips.
Aside from a linen wrap tossed carelessly over his genitals, Shirudukh’s chest and legs were bare. Chaiyanar, who had taken position directly in front of the divan, bowed first, a deep gesture that nearly brought him to his knees. “My King, the honor for my victory belongs to you.”
Lord Modran bowed just as low, and perforce Jedidia followed his example. It would not do to show the slightest disrespect.
“Our enemies fled at the mention of your name, my King,” Lord Modran’s deep voice added emphasis to his simpering utterance.
“Our soldiers knew they would be victorious in your service, my King,” Jedidia said, hating the fawning words even as he uttered them. “They were eager to humble your enemies.”
Shirudukh waved away their flattery. “You have all fought well, and now the Empire of Elam stretches from one end of our land to the other.”
With that, Jedidia agreed. Since the fall of the last three Kassite outposts in the east, all of King Shirudukh’s enemies had been vanquished or destroyed. From the Indus to the western mountains, every city and village bowed to the King of the Elamites, and paid tribute.
“But your losses were heavy.” Shirudukh voice turned grave. “And the cost to my treasury was high. Nor will we find much gold or anything of value in the lands of the Kassites.” He frowned at his generals, as if the near total destruction of the enemy’s cities and villages were a failure on their part.
“The wealth will return, in time,” Lord Modran said.
“Perhaps. But even so, we must find a new source of gold and slaves, as well as a way to expand the Elam Empire.”
Jedidia’s eyes widened in surprise. Expand the Empire? Were there new lands to conquer?
King Shirudukh noticed Jedidia’s expression. “Yes, General Jedidia, it is never too early to begin planning for our next conquest. But this tim
e we will wage war not against a handful of cities, but against a rich and fertile countryside. The Land Between the Rivers, across the Zagros Mountains, awaits us.”
Grand Commander Chaiyanar recovered first. “My King, I have heard of this land, but it is hundreds of miles away, across the mountains.” Chaiyanar couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice. “How will we fight such a war, so far from our cities?”
Jedidia had his own misgivings. He knew something, of course, about The Land Between the Rivers. Traders ventured there often enough, but the long and dangerous journey made only the most valuable goods worth the risk. He, too, wondered how it would be possible to fight battles so far from home, and on the other side of the rugged Zagros Mountains.
“It can be done,” King Shirudukh said. “The land there is fertile. Its fields and herds will produce more than enough to feed our soldiers while they march and fight. And the cities quarrel constantly with each other. We will take advantage of that distrust, and their cities will fall before us.”
“How many men will you send against them, my King?” Jedidia’s soldiers were exhausted, their ranks thinned by the long fight against the Kassite forts and villages. He needed time to regroup and rearm. Chaiyanar and Modran had lost even more soldiers than Jedidia.
“Ah, a good question. The answer is simple. We will send all of our armies across the mountains at the same time, leaving only enough men to maintain our garrisons.”
Chaiyanar, quicker with his sums than the others, spoke first. “If we take all our soldiers, my King, that would be more than thirty thousand men.”
Shirudukh leaned back against the divan, and one of the slave girls rose hastily and rearranged the thick pillows. “We will send more men than that. This campaign must be swift and absolute. I intend to conquer the entire region within two to three months. And to accomplish that, we will have to prepare an army of almost fifty thousand men. The cities in The Land Between the Rivers will either submit when they see the size of our forces outside their gates, or they will be crushed, quickly and savagely, at whatever the cost. Even if all their cities join together to resist us, they cannot field more than fifteen or twenty thousand men.”