Quest for Honour

by Sam Barone

  “Get to the horses! Ride for Akkad!”

  The rest of his men dropped their bows and dashed for the remaining horses. Enkidu followed them, moving backward, and still shooting arrows as fast as he could. A handful of the attackers flung open the main gate, while dozens more continued to scale the fence and drop from the parapets into the fort, screaming their war cries and waving swords.

  Another group of soldiers galloped out, but the din of exultant war cries and approaching hooves told Enkidu that the Tanukhs had already reached the rear of the fort. Women screamed in fear, pushing their way toward the water. Enkidu reached the rear gate, still shooting shafts as fast as he could nock them to the bowstring. Already he’d emptied one quiver. He snatched up another from the ground.

  The Tanukhs, shouting in triumph, rushed toward him. “Mount up!” Enkidu shouted. He continued launching arrows, dropping a man with every shot, the powerful long bow of Akkad deadly at such close range. Bodies, arrows protruding, lay scattered over the inside of the fort, mixing in death with those villagers too slow to get to the boats.

  Enkidu glanced over his shoulder. Sargat swung up onto his horse, and held the halter of the last horse for Enkidu. An arrow already nocked on his string, Enkidu drew back his arm, loosed the shaft, and turned to run. Instead a burning pain shot through his chest, and he saw the point of an arrow protruding from his side. He took two steps, stumbled and fell to the ground. Each breath felt like fire, too hot to take into his body, and the strength drained from his legs. He lifted his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to mount a horse. He met Sargat’s eyes.

  “Go! Get to Akkad.” He managed to get the words out.

  Sargat shook his head in frustration, dropped the halter, and put his heels to his horse, drawing his sword as he galloped out of the fort. Enkidu heard the clash of bronze as Sargat and the last of the Akkadians charged into the Tanukhs attempting to force their way toward the rear gate. Enkidu tried to get to his feet, his hand fumbling for his sword. Something knocked him over, and he fell against the side of the gate. Somehow he managed to drag the suddenly heavy sword from its scabbard.

  A Tanukh, his teeth bared, appeared before him. The man raised his sword with a grin and swung down. Enkidu saw the blow descending and managed to raise his weapon. But the Tanukh’s powerful stroke brushed aside his feeble resistance, and he felt the blade bite deep into his neck. A rush of pain exploded through his body, blinding him for a moment before the blackness fell over him. The pain vanished, and he had time for only one thought before death took him. At least he’d died a warrior’s death, with a weapon in his hand and facing his enemies. There would be no evil voices calling him a coward to haunt his way through the underworld.

  39

  Eskkar stood at the entrance to the Map Room, watching Trella and Ismenne make yet more of the never-ending adjustments to the pictorial that depicted all the major landmarks and marking stones between Akkad and Sumer. In the two years since Trella had unveiled it, the map had changed again and again, rebuilt and redrawn countless times to include ever more detail, and to take into consideration the steady stream of new information that, month by month, flowed to the map maker’s hand.

  Trella’s walkers had paced off the distances between nearly every village and city from north of Bisitun to as far south as Sumer. Discreet landmarks, recognizable only to those who knew what to look for, marked the most direct paths a man might travel. Marking stones indicated the length of the journey between various points. Both horsemen and walkers had trod many of the same routes, recorded their travels, and confirmed their findings. Piece by piece, Ismenne’s deft fingers added each new bit of information to the map.

  After so many years of effort, the layout held a prodigious quantity of information. Since neither Eskkar nor his commanders knew for certain what might end up being useful, they tended to add everything they could. Eskkar’s doubts about the Map Room’s benefits had vanished long ago. It had already demonstrated its worth, and as long as it remained a secret known only to a few, it would prove even more useful in the coming war.

  With so many details to represent, Trella and Ismenne had created new symbols to explain the map. Eskkar and his commanders had memorized these new symbols out of necessity, but Ismenne still received an occasional question over how to comprehend some of the less familiar markings.

  Today Ismenne took the lead in the latest adjustments, and Trella, standing at her side, deferred to her decisions. While his wife could complete almost any task she undertook, Eskkar knew Ismenne understood the map better than anyone in Akkad, and could interpret its patterns of lines and images without effort. When one of the commanders had a question, Ismenne could convert the scale on the map at a glance, and she seldom made even minor mistakes.

  Eskkar remembered that, not many years ago, he had needed Trella to explain to him the meaning of the word scale. Now he could grasp the distances, landmarks, rivers, and paths with ease. It helped that he had ridden to and from many of these places on his training visits, and had verified much of the information with his own eyes. With his experience and that of his commanders, routes could be planned, difficulties accounted for, and the necessary supplies and equipment calculated. No one man – no leader of any group of fighting men – could keep so much information in his head. The map, however, held it all.

  The map maker, as everyone called Ismenne, worked as hard as any soldier sweating in the training camps. Not that many in the city knew either of her existence or her skills. The Map Room’s master crafts-woman seldom left the Compound. When she did, Hawk Clan soldiers provided an unobtrusive protective guard. Not only did Ismenne know more about the Map Room than anyone, but she had heard every plan, every strategy, every resource that would be used in the eventual conflict with Sumer.

  Every fifth day, Eskkar and any of his commanders whose duties kept them in Akkad met in the Map Room to review the latest information from Trella and Annok-sur’s agents in the south, and to work on the various plans they would set into motion when the war began. This morning’s meeting had included some new information from the city of Isin. King Naxos of Isin had strengthened his walls yet again, and increased the number of men under arms in the nearby camp. This report required a slight reworking of the map at Isin. Eskkar and the commanders had discussed the new possibilities until midday, when his leaders took a break from the morning’s work to return to their homes for the midday meal.

  Eskkar had stayed behind, waiting for Trella to finish her discussion with Ismenne. He and Trella would dine together in the workroom. The midday meal often provided the day’s only opportunity for them to relax in each other’s company. He could have taken his place at the table and started without her, but it pleased him to watch his wife work.

  She had come to him as a slave more than four years ago. From that humble beginning, Trella had worked day and night, often at his side, until the city’s inhabitants had raised their voices and demanded that Eskkar take power in Akkad. Now Trella helped rule the city which she helped create. Thanks to her guidance, the people prospered. No one starved to death, while others had too much food on their tables. The King’s Judge made sure that the laws of Akkad applied to all, rich and poor.

  Eskkar and his wife set the example for the more wealthy of the city dwellers. No one wanted to flaunt their riches while the king lived in more humble surroundings, with no public display of his power. As a result, the prosperous merchants and craftsmen held the respect of those beneath them. Everyone knew the king and queen of Akkad ruled for all their subjects, not just those who possessed wealth.

  Since the barbarian invasion, Eskkar and his soldiers had worked hard to keep at bay all of Akkad’s enemies. Nevertheless, many gave as much credit to Trella’s plans and guidance. Between husband and wife, Akkad’s inhabitants slept peacefully at night. The approaching war would change all that. From all the stories and tales trickling into Akkad, Eskkar expected the outbreak of hostilities soon. The coming con
flict made these peaceful moments even more precious.

  At last Trella straightened up, and Eskkar knew that the latest difficulty had been resolved. She looked at him, surprised to find him standing in the doorway. Trella was, he decided, even more beautiful than that night when he saw her for the first time. Then she’d been a young girl, but one already past the usual age for marriage. Now she was a woman grown.

  Eskkar had taken her to his bed that night, and even that first time he knew she possessed something special, that she was unlike any woman he had ever known. For her part, Trella had worked her magic on him. Facing threats from within and without, they learned to help each other. Soon their lives were bound together, first as master and slave, then as partners working to save the city, next as husband and wife, and finally king and queen of Akkad. They had saved each other’s lives, they had fought together, and now they ruled together. Trella was, as the barbarians said, a gifted woman.

  Eskkar knew that some men grew tired of their women, or needed second and third wives. While he had taken other women from time to time, he remained under Trella’s spell, if that were what it was, as much today as when they’d first joined.

  Even now, he felt the stirrings of desire pass through him, as he watched the firm muscles move beneath her simple dress. Shaking himself from his thoughts, Eskkar entered the Map Room, strode down the length of the table, and placed his arm around Trella’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for you and Ismenne to take some food and rest.” He leaned down and kissed the top of Trella’s head.

  “Yes, Lord Eskkar,” Ismenne said. “As soon as I finish making these changes.”

  “Eat first.” He couldn’t help smiling at the girl. “Or you’ll be too tired to get through the day.”

  Not that he believed it, of course. The young girl had plenty of energy and strength. Still, some fresh air and a bite to eat wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps some day Trella would bear him a daughter who might grow up as beautiful and wise as Ismenne. Despite her youth, Corio’s daughter and her efforts might yet help win the war with Sumer.

  They left the Map Room. Ismenne closed the door behind them, then disappeared down the stairs to tell the servants to bring food to Eskkar and Trella. Before they could sit down, shouting erupted from the courtyard below. Hoof beats drummed on the earth, a horse neighed, and Eskkar’s own mount, always close at hand, answered it. A guard called out the challenge.

  “Another problem,” Eskkar muttered, “and always as we sit down to eat.”

  Eskkar moved to the stairs and started to descend. But before he descended halfway to the common room, two men burst through the main entrance and headed for the stairs. The first man looked up and saw the king standing there. Eskkar recognized the leader of twenty who guarded Akkad’s main gate.

  “Lord Eskkar! The outpost at Adarnar has been attacked!”

  Guards, servants, even some tradesmen, followed the others into the room. Bantor and Grond, who’d been taking their meal outside, pushed the onlookers aside and followed the messengers, their eyes as wide with excitement as the youngest recruit.

  Eskkar turned his attention to the second man, an older soldier swaying on his feet, a bloodstained bandage on his left arm, and a large bruise on his cheek. Flecks of dried blood still stained his neck and tunic.

  “Come upstairs,” Eskkar ordered. “Everyone else wait outside in the courtyard.” He found Trella standing behind him. Her expression told him she understood. The long dreaded war with Sumer might have begun.

  Grond had to help the wounded man up the steps. Eskkar dragged over a stool and the soldier slipped onto it with a long gasp of relief. Trella handed him a cup of wine, then had to help hold it while he sipped. Despite her efforts, his trembling hand spilled half the liquid onto his chest, staining the ragged garment as red as the blots of color on the dirty bandage.

  “Send for a healer,” Trella ordered. “This bandage needs to be changed.” Her fingertips traced the nearly black bruise on his face. “His cheekbone may be broken as well.”

  “What’s your name?” Eskkar snapped the words out. The man appeared ready to slip into shock, and needed the sharp words to keep his focus.

  “Sargat, my lord.” He coughed, then again lifted the cup to his lips. “Second in command to Enkidu at Adarnar.”

  “What happened?”

  Alexar and Gatus, both breathing hard, joined them in the workroom. Drakis entered a moment later and completed the senior commanders in Akkad.

  Sargat kept his eyes on the king. “Yesterday . . . no, three days ago, a little before sunset, a band of Tanukhs rode across the Sippar and attacked the outpost. Adarnar was overrun in moments. We tried . . . there were too many of them, hundreds and hundreds. We couldn’t stop them.”

  A barbarian raid, Eskkar decided, but perhaps only an isolated attack.

  “How many were there? How long did Adarnar hold out? How did you get away?”

  Everyone had a question. At this rate, the man’s story would take the rest of the day.

  “Let Sargat tell us what happened,” Eskkar cut in before anyone else could speak. “Take your time. Start at the beginning, and tell us everything that you remember.”

  The events at Adarnar came out in halting words. Trella refilled the wine cup, this time mixing the strong wine with plenty of water. No one said a word while Sargat spoke, every man in the room knew how the Tanukhs fought, all of them could visualize exactly what had taken place at the fort. The soldiers would have fought to the death, rather than let themselves be captured and tortured. Then would come the villagers’ turn, tortured and killed for their captors’ amusement, the women raped before being murdered, after watching their children butchered before their eyes. When only the dead remained, the Tanukhs would have burned the fort to the ground.

  While Sargat spoke, the healer entered the room, put down his heavy box of implements, and without a word began attending to the wound. The soldier scarcely noticed when the healer used his obsidian knife to cut open the wrapping, cleaned the deep cut, and applied a fresh bandage around the man’s arm. At last Sargat ended his tale and slumped back in the chair, his eyes closed.

  “Did anyone else get away?” The soldier needed rest, needed more attentions from the healer, but Eskkar had only two more questions.

  The eyes opened. “Yes, lord, one other. I was the last one out the gate. I caught up with the last handful of men to ride out. We had to fight our way through the Tanukhs. Only myself and one other soldier managed to get though all the confusion . . . there were so many of them, and all trying to get into the fort. He was wounded as well, and I left him behind at the first place of safety. I took his horse and rode for Akkad, as Enkidu wanted.”

  “How sure are you that these raiders were Tanukhs?”

  “They were Tanukhs. I saw them and heard them speak. Enkidu recognized them as well.”

  Not Sumerians pretending to be tribesmen then.

  “My thanks to you, Sargat.” Eskkar reached out and touched the man’s shoulder. “You’ve done well. Now get some rest.” He nodded to the healer. “Take him downstairs and do whatever else you can for him. Tell the servants to put him in the guest chamber.”

  Eskkar strode across the room and into the Map Room. Bantor, Grond, Alexar and Gatus tramped after him, the floor flexing from their weight. Trella, Ismenne and Annok-sur came in together, and closed the door.

  Standing over the map, Eskkar studied the land around the symbol that represented Adarnar. “Two or three hundred Tanukhs . . . that’s a lot of men to slip across the border and travel so far east without being noticed, all to attack an insignificant outpost. They could have found plenty of farms to raid closer to home, on both sides of the Sippar.”

  “They could be halfway to Akkad by now,” Gatus mused. “Or they could be on their way back to the desert.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” Bantor said. “They would have had to cross over Larsa’s territory. They must have been seen. We should have gotten
word of their passage.”

  Eskkar turned to Trella and Annok-sur.

  “Nothing, my lord.” Annok-sur’s voice showed her concern. It was her task to gather information, in order to prevent such a thing. “I spoke with a trader yesterday who came from Larsa. He heard nothing out of the ordinary, only the steady preparations for war. Even to the people of Larsa, a band of Tanukhs would be noticed and talked about.”

  “Unless they crossed over further south.” Eskkar traced the Sippar river with his finger. “It’s longer, but Sumer could also have given them passage through part of their lands. The Tanukhs could then ride north and strike anywhere they wanted.”

  More muffled shouting came from the common room below, until one voice rose up over everything else.

  “Lord Eskkar! I must speak with Lord Eskkar at once!”

  They heard the heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs. Eskkar had just opened the Map Room door when a soldier pushed his way into the workroom. Eskkar recognized Daro, one of Yavtar’s commanders.

  “Daro? What’s wrong?” The man looked almost as weary as Sargat. Bloody bandages covered both his hands. “What happened to your hands?”

  Daro lifted his hands as if seeing them for the first time. “From working the oar. We’ve been rowing upriver for almost two days.” He shook his head. “The enemy has taken Kanesh. They’ve stopped all the traffic on the river. No boats are coming north.”

  Eskkar glanced at Gatus, then nodded to Trella. One attack might be just a raid, but two – that meant hostilities had broken out. The same force that attacked Adarnar couldn’t have reached Kanesh so quickly. Nor would Kanesh have fallen so easily, with its force of more than ninety defenders. Eskkar guided Daro back to the workroom table and gestured him to the same stool just vacated by Sargat.