Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga)

by Sam Barone

  “You’re lucky they didn’t take your head right there,” Jennat said.

  “The clan leaders of the Alur Meriki understand power.” Sargon shrugged. “It’s the only thing they respect. My father knew it, too. It was important to act like a leader.”

  Fashod nodded. “I wonder what Eskkar will say when he hears of this.”

  “That’s the least of our worries now,” Sargon answered. “Let’s just hope they give us some fresh horses and let us go.”

  “Do you think they will help us?” Garal couldn’t keep the worry from his voice.

  “I don’t know. Nothing showed on their faces. Now that we’re here, it seems doubtful.”

  “I will be glad to get back to my family,” Jennat said, “no matter what happens. I wonder what they’re doing.”

  A stirring among the men guarding them made Sargon glance up. A warrior had approached the guards, and now spoke with two of them. The ground the Ur Nammu occupied had no campfire, so Sargon couldn’t make out who the stranger was.

  “Sargon. Come join me.” Bekka’s voice came from the darkness.

  Sargon climbed to his feet and walked toward the shadowy figure. “Chief Bekka.”

  “Walk with me,” Bekka said. “I want to talk to you.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Bekka turned and strode off in the darkness. Sargon moved quickly in order to not lose sight of the Sarum. They passed through the outer edges of the camp and through some trees before Bekka finally halted near the stream. A string of small boulders and rocks lined the channel, and Bekka took a seat on one of them, his back to the flowing water.

  “Sit here, beside me,” he ordered.

  Sargon obeyed, unsure of why the Sarum had brought him to this place. With the stream at their backs, the light from the many campfires cast a faint glow over the empty ground that led to the stream. The silver colored moon glowed overhead, and the shadowy trees gave off a pleasant scent. A private place to talk.

  “How many seasons do you have, Sargon?”

  He decided to tell Bekka the truth. “In two moons, I will have fifteen seasons.”

  “If you expect to live long enough to reach that happy day, you would do well to cease challenging everyone you meet.”

  “I wanted to show you and your clan that I am to be taken seriously, despite my years.”

  “You survived three challenges,” Bekka said. “Do not tempt the gods by issuing a fourth.”

  “Then you are going to let us return to the south?”

  “Yes. I’ll give you fresh horses and you can depart in the morning. I’ll also provide an escort to make sure you reach the border alive. Trayack is still angry, and he is not the only one. Many hate your father for the fight at the stream, and for making them swear the oath.”

  Sargon thought about that for a moment. The Sarum’s words meant that he did not have full control of his chiefs or his fighters, if one or more of them could dare to disobey his orders.

  “So you will not ride to help the Ur Nammu.”

  “No, that is why I will ride south to fight these Carchemishi. I need a victory for my warriors, or I will not lead the Clan for long. We have lost too many battles in the last few years. The Alur Meriki need to defeat a worthy enemy to regain their honor and enjoy once again the taste of victory.”

  Sargon’s heart jumped at the news. The Alur Meriki would help. Which meant hope still lived for Tashanella and her family.

  “Then we are in your debt, Chief Bekka.”

  “Remind your father of that when you see him. I will hold you both to your word. Now, I have a question for you.”

  Sargon glimpsed a flash of teeth in the moonlight.

  “When you told Trayack that Hathor and his fighters could not be resisted once they had reached the stream, was that merely more of your bold words?”

  Sargon wondered about the odd question, but he didn’t hesitate. “No. Hathor has fought in even more battles than my father, from Egypt to the Land Between the Rivers. He does not speak much of those days, but Hathor was a leader of a thousand for many years. His horsemen, the ones chosen for the ride to the stream, were the strongest and bravest in Akkad’s cavalry. They’ve trained together for many years, and have mastered the use of the horseman’s bow.”

  Bekka laughed aloud. “Then I made the right decision, not to fight him at the stream.”

  Suddenly Sargon understood. “You led the men who first opposed him?”

  “Yes. We had only a few men, and Hathor’s horsemen looked too strong. Your words at the Council tonight removed some of the doubt that lingers over me.”

  “You made the right decision.”

  Bekka ignored that. “Now, tell me why you ride with the Ur Nammu, and why no Akkadian warriors accompany you. No king would leave his first born son alone to complete his training, with strangers and so far from home.”

  Caught by surprise at the unexpected question, Sargon couldn’t find the words for a moment. Once again, he decided to speak the truth. “My father . . . my parents, were . . . disappointed with me. They felt I had failed them. In his anger, my father sent me to the Ur Nammu. I was not to return until I regained my honor.”

  “Or died.” Bekka sighed. “I suspected something like that. Well, the wildness of young warriors must be tamed one way or another, if they are to grow to manhood and be of use to their Clan.”

  He laughed again. “Let us hope that we both live long enough to learn whether or not we have proved our worth. If I return without a victory, I might as well fall on my sword. Better that than watch Trayack become Sarum.”

  With a few words, Bekka had shown he understood Sargon’s position. “Trayack would lead your people to disaster.”

  Bekka ignored that, too. He stood. “Time to go back. There is much to do. But remind your father that I will hold him to your words. We will need the protection and livestock you promised to feed our people, before this is over.”

  29

  Climbing onto his horse a little after dawn, Sargon experienced a feeling of relief. The uncertainty of the last few days, the worry about first finding and then convincing the Alur Meriki had ended. The time for talking had passed as well. Now only the ride back to the Ur Nammu remained, and whatever fate awaited him.

  Once again Den’rack rode with them, this time as a guide. Twenty men, under the command of a young warrior named Unegen, a member of Bekka’s Wolf Clan, accompanied them to guarantee a safe passage. Not even Trayack or his followers would presume to attack so many of their own.

  Every rider led a second horse. As they started off, Sargon glanced to the rear, but he saw no horse boys. That meant the warriors expected to ride into battle.

  Den’rack led the way, though Unegen had already sent two scouts ahead.

  No one had much to say during the long day’s ride. Sargon worried about Tashanella, while his companions no doubt worried about their kin. For all he knew, the Carchemishi had already caught up with the Ur Nammu. Everyone Sargon knew or cared about might already be dead.

  The thought of Tashanella enduring an even worse fate than dying gnawed at his chest. A beautiful young girl, beaten into submission and suitably trained, would fetch a good price at any slave market. Sargon had seen many such girls many times, in Akkad’s own slave market.

  That reminded him of his mother. Trella, too, had once been a slave, a fact that had embarrassed Sargon often enough as he grew up. Of course, no one had ever spoken of it to his face, but the unspoken words no doubt influenced his friends’ attitude toward his family. For the first time, he wondered if his mother had ever stood naked in a slave market.

  As the sun touched the horizon, Den’rack finally gave the signal to halt. They had reached a small pond fed from beneath the ground. Sargon knew they could have covered a few more miles before darkness, but the presence of fresh water made for a good camp site.

  They had not passed this place on the way in. Before Sargon could ask, Den’rack walked over and explained to Sargon a
nd his companions that this route would take them over easier ground. Then he returned to his own warriors.

  Fashod, who had ridden over these lands years ago, agreed with Den’rack. “I don’t remember this watering hole, but the trail we’re taking shortens our journey by about twenty miles. When we first met up with Den’rack and his men, they had just finished the southeast to northwest leg on their patrol. With plenty of water, the horses should hold up better.”

  No one replied. They would either arrive in time to help in the fight, or they would be forced to take their revenge alone.

  After a cold supper, Sargon spread his blanket. But before he could roll himself up, the leader of the Alur Meriki, Unegen, crossed over from where his warriors had settled down.

  “I heard your words last night at the Council Meeting, Sargon of Akkad.” Unegen squatted on the ground beside Sargon. “I fought against your father at the stream, and I was the one who first brought the news to Thutmose-sin of the one you call Hathor. Many in our clan, and even more in the others, doubted Bekka’s decision, despite the fact that he was outnumbered, to yield the stream to Hathor’s men. When you described the strength of the Akkadians, many who heard your words realized that Bekka had made the right choice.”

  “Chief Bekka has much wisdom,” Sargon agreed, wondering where this was leading.

  “He has taught me much,” Unegen said. “I have less than twenty-three seasons, but already I am a leader of twenty.”

  Sargon’s hadn’t thought the man so young.

  “And now,” Unegen went on, “those who had doubts about Bekka becoming Sarum, including myself, no longer feel that way. He will make a good Sarum.”

  “I hope your people and mine can keep peace between us.”

  Unegen snorted. “Once I would never have thought such a thing. But the old days are gone. Thutmose-sin believed that he could hold back the dirt eaters, destroy their farms and villages to keep them weak. He failed, and now your cities have grown too strong. A new way must be found. I wept when your father killed Thutmose-sin, but I see that as long as he ruled our clan, many more warriors would have faced death, and for nothing.”

  “You are wise beyond your years, Unegen of the Alur Meriki. Perhaps some day, you will be the Sarum of your clan.”

  Unegen laughed, a cheerful sound that contrasted with his sober demeanor. “I think that would be a bad day for my people. But I wish you well in your quest, Sargon, son of Eskkar.” He rose and returned to his warriors.

  “The next Sarum of the Alur Meriki,” Fashod, sitting only a few paces away, had heard their words, “talking to the next ruler of Akkad.”

  “I will never rule in Akkad.” Sargon uttered the words with conviction. “My father has sent me from his house, and I have no wish to return there.”

  “As time passes, boys turn into men and learn wisdom, and even fathers relent their angry words. No man knows what the future will bring. A few days ago, we believed we were riding to our deaths.”

  “We’ll know our fates soon enough.” As Sargon rolled himself up in his blanket, that thought remained in his head. Though to his surprise, the idea of his death did not trouble him as much as his concern for Tashanella.

  Three days later, just after midday, Sargon and his companions neared the end of their journey. One of Unegen’s scouts came galloping back toward the main party, waving his arms. Sargon, riding just behind Unegen, with Fashod and Den’rack on either side, heard the scout’s report.

  The Carchemishi were only a few miles ahead, and two Alur Meriki patrols, one of them the men Den’rack had left behind, were keeping them under observation. Yassur, a leader of ten in the Serpent Clan, had taken command of the observing scouts.

  Unegen frowned at the all too brief report. He ordered the scout to return to his position, and the rest of the bone-weary riders continued on.

  Every man, every horse, had been pushed to its limit. Two horses had gone lame, and had to be abandoned. But despite his fatigue, Sargon took comfort in one matter – he had guided and cared for his mounts, and ridden just as hard as any of the warriors.

  The months of incessant riding and training under Garal had come to fruition. The highest praise came from the fact that no one noticed or commented on his riding skills. The Alur Meriki, he decided, had accepted him as Eskkar’s son, and thus no longer considered him a dirt eater.

  Less than three miles passed before they reached the first Alur Meriki patrol, the one commanded by Yassur. Unegen’s scout had informed these outriders about the Ur Nammu and Sargon. Still, Yassur stared with open curiosity at the strangers, apparently fully accepted as equals, who rode in with Unegen.

  Unegen swung down from his horse with a grunt of relief. “What can you tell us?”

  For a moment Yassur appeared taken aback at the sight of Sargon, a dirt eater, and Fashod, an Ur Nammu warrior, moving up to stand beside Unegen and Den’rack.

  Yassur recovered soon enough. “The main force of the enemy caught up with the Ur Nammu yesterday. The Ur Nammu have taken refuge on a hilltop less than three miles away, and are now surrounded by the invaders. That is why we’ve remained here, behind this hill. Their patrols don’t come this far east or ride into the hills.”

  “Can we see them?” Unegen glanced up at the hill.

  “Yes, you can see everything from here.” Yassur led the way on foot, scrambling back and forth as he guided them toward the summit. Just before the crest, he threw himself down and crawled the last few steps, until he could peer out at the plain beyond.

  Sargon and the others followed his example. Looking west, he saw the Carchemishi forces, formed in a ring around the base of a lone plateau that pushed itself up from the earth. Only flat ground surrounded it. The hill rose up about two hundred paces above the valley floor, and appeared to have only one gentle slope, facing north, where a horse and rider could make the ascent.

  From Sargon’s vantage point, he saw the hundreds, even thousands, of Carchemishi who encircled the plateau, most of them concentrated near the north face and its slope to the top. The hill, with its single entry, made for a good defensive position. There might be other trails to reach the summit on the far side, but Sargon couldn’t see any from here.

  Still, if the hill provided a good place for defense, it also allowed the Ur Nammu to be surrounded and trapped. It would be impossible for Subutai’s warriors to break out, even if they wanted to, without a desperate fight.

  But Sargon and his companions wanted to break in, not out, so that problem wasn’t as important for now. “How many invaders are there?”

  Yassur lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. “At least seventeen hundred, maybe two thousand. More than half of them are mounted, which is why they caught up with the Ur Nammu so quickly. Those on foot only arrived this morning, along with a long pack train of horses and some carts. Women and children are there, too.”

  Women invariably followed soldiers, traveling with them and helping carry weapons and supplies. To any army in the field, they were both a benefit and a curse. They helped their men, but they consumed food and slowed down the pace of any march. In the war against Sumer, Eskkar had ordered women out of the ranks several times.

  When he heard the numbers of the enemy, Sargon exchanged glances with Fashod. The two Carchemishi bands must have joined, and they appeared even more numerous than expected.

  “Why haven’t the Carchemishi attacked?”

  “The Ur Nammu aren’t going anywhere, and there is only the one approach,” Yassur explained. “But the only water nearby is a tiny stream that flows from the base of the ridge, and so now the Ur Nammu have no water. The invaders can afford to wait a few more days, until the Ur Nammu are weakened by thirst. Then they will either surrender or be destroyed.”

  Unegen turned to Fashod. “How many warriors do the Ur Nammu have?”

  “Subutai has less than three hundred warriors,” Fashod said, “not counting some boys and old men who might be able to fight. But there are o
ver a thousand people up there. They will not last long without water.”

  “We cannot attack until Bekka arrives.” Unegen informed Yassur about their Sarum’s decision to attack the invaders. “But he will not be here for another few days. Meanwhile, we must gather as much information as we can about the enemy.”

  “Is there a way for us to rejoin our people?” Fashod spoke directly to Yassur.

  “Not during the day. As far as we can see, all the approaches to the hilltop are surrounded. The ascent at the southern end seems to be the least guarded. It’s steep, but you might be able to climb up there after dark.”

  “Then we will go tonight.” Fashod turned to Sargon. “But you do not need to come with us. You can still return to your own people.”

  Sargon had no intention of leaving Tashanella. “No. We go in together.”

  “So be it.” Fashod shifted his gaze back to Yassur. “We can spend the day studying the approaches.”

  “We were thinking about capturing one or two Carchemishi,” Yassur told Unegen. “We might learn much that would help Chief Bekka when he arrives.”

  Sargon watched as Unegen thought about that for a moment.

  “No, we don’t want these invaders to look to the east,” Unegen said. “Better to have them thinking only about the Ur Nammu.”

  “As long as they watch the hilltop, we should be able to slip through their lines,” Fashod said. “They will not be expecting anyone to try and break in. When they settle down for the night, we’ll see what trail looks best.” He took one last look at the distant plateau. “Now we should rest. We’ll need all our strength tonight.”

  They slipped back below the crest and returned to the camp. Unegen and Yassur decided to send out more scouts, and prepare for Bekka’s arrival.

  Fashod and the other Ur Nammu ignored the activity, and dropped to the ground to get some sleep. Sargon followed, though he doubted he could get much rest. Tashanella was close by, and he might not be able to reach her. Despite Fashod’s confidence, it would be difficult to get past so many guards.