by Sam Barone
Most of the camp remained asleep as Eskkar headed down toward the stream to wash the grime from his face. At the water’s edge, he found a few other early risers. Most had drunk too much wine last night, and now some paid the penalty.
He ignored the sound of retching that floated over the stream. Despite the chill, Eskkar ducked his head into the water for as long as he could stand it. Then he washed his hands, and scrubbed the remains of last night’s meal from his tunic.
When he finished, a long piss against a nearby bush completed the morning ritual, and he sighed in satisfaction. A final dip of his hands in the stream, and Eskkar felt ready to face the dawn. The sun had almost cleared the horizon. A new day had arrived, and his instinct told him that important decisions would be made.
When he arrived back at Subutai’s tent, Eskkar found the Ur Nammu leader standing beside Petra. Two young boys were adding kindling to the struggling morning fire, but already the copper pot hung from its tripod. Soon the smell of fresh stew would compete with the smoky odor of the twigs and dried animal dung used to start the fire.
Before Eskkar could reach Subutai’s side, two more figures emerged. Sargon and Tashanella. Neither one appeared to have enjoyed a good night’s rest, though he had not noticed them last night at the feast. Nor did either one show the pleasant after effects of a bout of morning lovemaking.
“A good day begins.” Eskkar gave the usual greeting to Subutai, then nodded toward his son. “Sargon.” Eskkar even gave Tashanella a smile as he pronounced her name.
“A good day,” Subutai replied, “after a bad night. My tongue feels like it’s made of horsehide.”
Sargon spoke. “Father, I would like to speak to you.”
Despite the effects of last night’s drinking, Subutai frowned at Sargon. Sons did not interrupt their fathers, let alone the Sarum, when they were speaking.
Eskkar gave Sargon the briefest of glances. “Later.” He caught a glimpse of Petra watching. By now she probably knew all about last night’s conversation between father and son.
“It’s important, Father.”
Another breech of custom.
“I’ve got to take a piss.” Subutai turned away and headed in the direction of the stream.
Eskkar turned to face his son, but before he could say anything, Petra interrupted.
“If you wish to speak to your son in private, Lord Eskkar, you may use the tent.”
The rest of the camp had stirred itself awake, and of course, the children and family of Subutai would soon be hanging around the cooking pot, hoping for a few mouthfuls of stew.
“My thanks to you, Petra, but there is no need. My son assured me last night that he had nothing to say to me.”
Petra opened her mouth, but closed it without speaking. Instead she dropped to her knees beside the cooking fire. “I’ll take care of that,” she said. “You children go find more firewood.”
Tashanella remained as well, standing only a half-step behind her husband.
Sargon took a step closer. “Father, you cannot go back on my promise to Bekka. I told him that you would help his clan with food and anything else he might need. He saved the Ur Nammu, saved all of us.”
“Bekka will be here soon.” Eskkar kept his voice calm and his words soft. “I will explain the situation to him, and make whatever arrangements I feel necessary. You will not lose honor. Bekka will understand such things. You are a warrior of the Ur Nammu now. As you said to me and your mother, the affairs of Akkad no longer concern you.”
Sargon blanched. His own words had returned to damn him. His lip trembled, as much with shame as with anger.
“Honored Father, your son acted wisely and fought bravely to save my people.” Tashanella surprised them all by speaking.
Eskkar frowned at the girl. By custom, she should not speak unless spoken to, and certainly not in matters that concerned men. Even Petra, kneeling behind them, flinched at the words.
Eskkar’s voice held no sign that he took offense. “My new Daughter, your husband fought bravely to save you, and for that I honor him as a man. But even a coward will fight to save his wife or his children. When Sargon is as ready to risk his life to save his family, his kin, and the people of Akkad, including all those who raised him and fought for him and died for him, then he will be accepted back into his own family. Not before.”
Tashanella’s face turned as pale as her husband’s. Eskkar saw Petra shake her head in disappointment.
“Please, Father.” Tashanella fought to keep the tears from her voice. “You must not reject your son.”
“I do not reject him. But I will not embrace a son who abandons not only his mother, but his duties to those who raised him.” Eskkar turned back to Sargon. “If you wish to speak for me with the Ur Nammu, you may do so. There is much that you can do to help them. But you will not make any commitment in Akkad’s name, not before you consult with me. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Father.”
Eskkar searched his son’s face, but did not see any trace of anger. “Then you may stay and attend the meeting. But you will keep silent, unless you are spoken to.”
The boy had finally swallowed his pride, humbled in front of his wife and her mother. Whatever Tashanella had said to him last night must have finally swayed his mind.
“Good. Then if you prove yourself, it may be that one day you can serve such a purpose with the Alur Meriki as well. I will talk to Bekka about that.”
“Yes, Father. I will do my best.”
“No man can ask another for more than that.” Eskkar turned to Petra, only a long stride away, stirring the contents of the stew pot. “That smells good, Petra. Might I have a cup?”
Petra looked up, as if caught by surprise, and as though she had not heard a single word of what had just passed between father and son. “Of course, My Lord.” She scooped a cup full of the hot liquid, rose, and handed it to him with a bow. “A good cup to start a good day.”
“My thanks to you, Petra of the Ur Nammu, for all you have done for me.” Eskkar doubted whether anyone else noticed the slight nod of approval she gave him. He hadn’t handled the situation as she wanted, but she would follow the path Eskkar had laid out for Sargon, and now Tashanella would help Sargon along the way.
Besides, Eskkar did not have the patience to wait years for his son to stand up to his obligations. At any rate, for Petra and Roxsanni, the end result should be the same.
Cradling the warm cup in both hands, Eskkar glanced around. Subutai had returned, but stood at the far side of the little clearing, waiting for the conversation to end. Beside him stood Fashod and Chinua, both arriving early for the Council Meeting. Behind them, Eskkar saw Hathor and Bekka and a few of the Alur Meriki approaching.
Eskkar lifted the cup toward Subutai in a gesture of thanks. Family matters had been taken care of. Now it was time for the Council of Leaders. And this time, Sargon would be present, as a dutiful son should attend to his father.
The new day had just begun, but already Eskkar had accomplished the most important of his goals. The long process of regaining his son had started. It would take time, and there would be setbacks. But it would happen. The good news about Sargon would bring relief and joy to Trella. And she would approve of how Eskkar had dealt with their son, of that he was sure.
Despite Eskkar’s hope to be on his way by midmorning, the meeting took much longer than expected. The sun had already passed well beyond its midpoint in the sky before Eskkar and Hathor said their final goodbyes. At last they climbed onto their horses, and led the Akkadian cavalry back toward home.
The horsemen riding behind their leaders had no complaint. They’d endured a hard ride out to these empty lands, but at least they had avoided any conflict, and now faced only a leisurely journey back to Akkad. Eskkar rode as complacently as any of his men. He had much more to smile about than just avoiding another battle.
The only man unhappy with the day’s events rode at the rear of the column, a rope arou
nd his neck. Kamanis. He would be taken back to Akkad. Once there, Annok-sur would wring every morsel of information out of him. Soon she would know all there was to know about the Carchemishi.
The Akkadians had covered more than ten miles before Hathor could restrain his curiosity no longer.
“Well, Captain,” Hathor began, “are you going to tell me why you’re looking so satisfied?”
Eskkar laughed. “Isn’t peace with the Alur Meriki, and good relations with the Ur Nammu enough to smile about?”
“And Sargon’s new bride? She seemed very interested in what the Council had to say.”
Tashanella had indeed managed to stay close to the chiefs and leaders while they spoke. With her mother and Petra, they remained just within earshot, ready to attend to their men, though of course they pretended that they could not hear a word.
“Sargon has chosen a good woman. I think she will prove a good match for him.” Eskkar related all that had occurred between Sargon, Petra, and Tashanella, to his trusted friend. “Now I think that between Tashanella and her mother, they will turn Sargon back to Akkad sooner rather than later.”
Eskkar shook his head in amazement of it all. “And my talk with Bekka went better than I could have hoped. I promised him even more help than Sargon did. Bekka understands my son’s role now, too. He even extended an invitation for Sargon to come and visit with the Alur Meriki.”
Hathor chuckled. “So Sargon’s wife and her mothers will plot behind Sargon’s back to make sure he remains in favor in Akkad, to make certain that the Ur Nammu are safe and secure. And the Alur Meriki will court Sargon as well, in order that they, too, can stay in favor with Akkad. No doubt as soon as Bekka returns home, he will be searching his tents for a suitably beautiful girl to present to Sargon as a second wife. Meanwhile you offered them even more than what your son had promised.”
“That sums it up,” Eskkar agreed.
“And what do we get out of all this, besides getting rid of these foolish Carchemishi invaders?”
Eskkar faced his friend. “Well, we haven’t lost a man. It will be many years before the Carchemishi or anyone else from that region dares to come near Akkad’s lands. More important, Trella and I will get our son back, and I think Akkad will get a leader, too. For an untried warrior, Sargon showed much courage, and made good decisions that benefited many. I could not have done as well when I was his age. It will take patience, but for the first time in years, I believe Sargon will make a good ruler of Akkad, when the time comes.”
“Not for many years, yet, I hope.”
His friend’s voice showed his feelings. Eskkar clasped the Egyptian on the shoulder. “Not for many years.” Then the smile faded from Eskkar’s face. “And now that we have our northern border secure, we can prepare for the Elamites.”
Hathor’s smile faded. “What can we do? We have no way to strike at them. And if they see us making preparations for war, they may attack even sooner.”
“Much as I might wish to attack them, you’re right, it would be unwise.” Eskkar sighed. “Trella says that first we must learn as much as we can about the Elamites. She and Annok-sur were already making plans when these Carchemishi came. They wanted Yavtar to establish a trading House in Sumer, to trade with Elam.”
“Then by now she may have discovered some way to gain knowledge of their armies and their plans,” Hathor said. “We need to know as much as we can about their tactics and training.”
“Trella will discover what we need to know, I’m sure of it. And make sure we are ready to meet Elamites when the time comes. What is that saying of your Egyptians? If you want peace, prepare for war. That is where we must now turn our attentions. Perhaps even Sargon will play a role in the coming conflict.”
Epilogue
The Elamite city of Sushan . . .
Seven months after a once-again triumphant Eskkar returned to Akkad, Daro, Commander of Akkad’s river archers, leaned against a portico column and watched the spectacle unfolding in Sushan’s marketplace. A handful of soldiers dragged the pathetic prisoner, his hands already bound, into the central space, and tied him to the punishment post.
One of the guards threaded a rope over a hook at the top of the post, and a few hard pulls lifted the victim upright, his hands stretched over his head and his feet barely making contact with the ground.
Daro brushed his long brown hair away from his eyes and waited, expecting the punishment to begin, but nothing happened. The man, covered with bruises and marks from the lash, hung there, slack jawed, and clearly in pain.
“What crime did he commit?” Daro directed his question to the harbor guard assigned to escort him through the city. Sushan had many rules restricting foreigners, and unless one wanted to end up in the Elamite Army or worse, an official protector as well as a guide was required.
“Sabatu? They said it was treason,” the guard, a man named Callis replied. “But others say King Shirudukh desired his wife. Sabatu used to be a High Commander in King Shirudukh’s army. For the last five or six days, they’ve dragged him into the market for pubic torture.”
“Why don’t they just kill him?” Daro glanced around, taking in the crowded market. Not many evinced interest in the proceedings.
“Oh, they will. But first the soldiers make him watch each day while they torture one of his family to death. After that, they give him another taste of the whip until he passes out. Then they drag him back to the barracks until the next day.”
For the last six months, Daro had labored night and day, becoming fluent in the language of Elam and learning all he could about the land, its customs, and most of all, its military forces. A High Commander, Daro knew, had authority over at least five hundred soldiers. That meant the man had served in Shirudukh’s army for many years.
Interested now, Daro studied the prisoner. He couldn’t guess the man’s age, but he appeared young. That likely meant someone who’d risen quickly through the ranks by reason of his ability, or the scion of some noble family.
A murmur passed through the crowd, and four more soldiers appeared, escorting a portly man who wore the scarlet scarf, symbol of Sushan’s rulers, over one shoulder. One of the soldiers carried a crying child carelessly flung over his shoulder.
“Who’s that?”
Callis shook his head. “Some lazy scribe from the Grand Commander’s Compound. Too many to remember their names. Butt-lickers, all of them. This one’s in charge of the prisoner’s punishment.”
The title “Grand Commander” referred to Grand Commander Chaiyanar, the ruler of the city of Sushan. Chaiyanar also commanded a large army under King Shirudukh, the ruler of the Elamite Empire.
Despite his interest, Daro didn’t press Callis for more information. The man seemed slow of wit, but one could never be sure. The Harbor Master, another lackey of the Grand Commander, might take the trouble to question Callis about what the foreign demon from Sumeria talked about.
The child’s high pitched scream brought Daro’s gaze back to the prisoner. The soldier had lifted the sobbing child, a boy about nine or ten seasons old, and now held him in front of his father’s battered face. The terrified child reached out to touch his father, but the guard held him just out of reach. The sight of his son drove the lethargy from the prisoner, and he thrashed helplessly against his tight bindings.
The crowd watching, now about seventy or eighty people, reacted, laughing at the man’s suffering. A few jeers and taunts rose from those fascinated by the spectacle.
Every public death, every execution, Daro knew, always attracted a crowd eager to see someone die. Most of those viewing, of course, had never killed anyone in their lives, or battled against a well-armed and dangerous foe.
Daro had seen more than his share of death. He’d fought several times against Akkad’s enemies, and knew just how precious life was. And how easily it could be taken.
The boy’s torture started. The soldier took his slim arm in both of his, and snapped it like a dry stick. The child’s
piteous wails turned into a shriek of pain that turned every head in the marketplace.
“First they break a few bones,” Callis said, “then they lash them to death.” He shook his head. “Not much use torturing them when they’re so young. Better just to kill them.”
The screams continued, the torturers encouraged by the crowd’s reaction. Daro decided it was time to move on. “Well, I’ve seen enough. Where is the famous Temple of Samas everyone talks about? They say it’s the finest temple in the world. I’d like to see that before I have to get back to my Master.”
Callis led the way through the crowd, ignoring both the torturers and their victims. The sounds soon faded as they passed out of the marketplace and followed the twisting lanes toward a hill topped with a large, white structure.
Daro listened attentively while Callis explained how Samas, the Ocean God, gave birth to the river that flowed to the sea from the City of Sushan. He didn’t seem to know much more than that, except that the priests demanded that everyone in Sushan must visit the temple every eight days, or face the wrath of Samas. The worshippers were expected to make an offering at each visit, of course.
“That’s why it’s so empty,” Callis said. “Unless someone needs a special favor, no one wants to pay the greedy priests.”
Following his guide around the structure, Daro marveled aloud at the height of the temple’s walls, and admired the ugly statues of the lesser gods standing in inserts carved in the outer walls. When the tour and lecture ended, Daro handed a copper coin to the hard-eyed priest, then knelt and offered his prayers to Samas for a safe voyage back across the Great Sea. When the prayer ended, he stood and brushed the dust from his bare knees.
“Now, friend Callis, I hear there are many fine wine houses in Sushan. Perhaps you can show me one or two of them, and we can sample their fares. But we must hurry, or my Master will be angry.”
For the first time since Callis had been assigned to show Daro the sights of Sushan, a smile appeared on his face. Lengthening their strides, they left the temple and its scant worshippers behind, and soon found a friendly wine seller. Daro, as the city’s guest, was allowed to buy several drinks for Callis, and after a time, a few of the other customers.