Quest for Honour

by Sam Barone

  The Alur Meriki raiders would terrorize the countryside, but they couldn’t do any real damage to Akkad itself. Gone were the days when its inhabitants trembled at the name of the dreaded barbarian horsemen.

  “Unless they’re betrayed from within.” Eskkar turned to Draelin. “You’re going back on the river at once. Double up the crew and get back there as fast as you can. Tell Bantor to be wary of treachery, some plot to open the gates or scale the wall somehow.”

  “I was hoping to stay with you, Lord Eskkar, and join the fight here.”

  “I think you’ll find all the fighting you want back in Akkad. Take my message to Bantor and Trella. Go now.”

  “Yes, Lord.” Draelin turned and ran off, back toward the river.

  “Damn the Alur Meriki!” Eskkar said. “I’d hoped we were done with them for a few more years.”

  “May they all rot in the demon’s pits,” Gatus said, not caring that Eskkar had once belonged to that clan. “You think Shulgi has men inside Akkad?”

  “We have men inside their cities.” Some of Trella’s deep-laid plans over the last two years were still to be put to the test, but Shulgi and Kushanna were just as crafty. “If the Sumerians have been talking to the Alur Meriki, they must have talked about some way to get inside.”

  “We can send some men back to the city,” Hathor said. “A few hundred horsemen ought to be enough to drive them off.”

  “No, that’s what Shulgi wants, for us to try and defend the city. If we send men back, we won’t have enough to fight the Sumerians. We need every man we have.” Eskkar took a deep breath. “Akkad will have to hold out by itself.”

  “Draelin should be back before the Alur Meriki arrive,” Gatus said. “It’s only going to take him a day or so to get upriver.”

  “Trella will be watching for any treachery. As soon as she heard of the Alur Meriki’s approach, she’ll know what to do.”

  “I could send some horsemen, in case Draelin doesn’t get through,” Hathor suggested.

  “No, we’re already surrounded by Razrek’s fighters. You’d never get a man through on horseback. Only the river is safe now.”

  “Then we continue on?”

  “We continue. Make sure the men get as much rest and sleep as possible. I want us to be well on our way before daybreak. This may be their last good night’s sleep for quite a while. You know what to do. Make sure everything is ready.”

  Eskkar strode away, to try and get some sleep if he could. He had forced himself to sound confident before his men, but worries about Trella and little Sargon’s safety would be with him for the next few days. No one wanted to return to Akkad more than he did, but he had to trust in Trella and her instincts. She would know what to do, and Bantor would heed her advice. Between the two of them, Akkad would be well defended. When Eskkar did finally fall asleep, he dreamt of the days when he stood on Orak’s walls, defending the village from the ravaging Alur Meriki.

  The rest of the Akkadians settled in for the night. Nearly a quarter of the men remained awake and alert, and even those who slept kept their weapons at hand. Torches burned all night, lit by oil delivered as part of the boats’ cargo just for that purpose.

  He slept uneasily, waking often. Once Eskkar roused himself enough to speak to some of the guards, all of whom urged him to return to sleep. When Grond finally woke him, Eskkar glanced up at the sky. The waning moon indicated dawn was still far off, but that made no difference. In moments he was wide awake, slinging his sword over his shoulder.

  “Is everything ready?” Eskkar knew that Grond would have awakened even earlier, and would have checked on Gatus and Hathor’s preparations.

  “Yes, Captain. Gatus will be ready to move out in a few moments.”

  Eskkar strode among his men, stepping in and out of the light cast by the flickering torches. Faces turned toward his, and for the first time he saw a hint of fear and nervousness on their faces. The night held its own terrors, and made even brave men afraid.

  He found Hathor, Klexor and Fashod together, making their final preparations. At the last moment, Fashod of the Ur Nammu had decided to join the expedition and take command of the forty warriors who had volunteered to fight Akkad’s enemies. Most of them were young and looking forward to their first battle. All three men faced him as he approached, and in the flickering torchlight he saw no signs of doubt or concern on anyone’s face.

  “We’re ready to begin, Captain.”

  “Your men are going to be surprised.”

  “That they will,” Klexor said. “Half of them will piss themselves with fright when they finally learn of the plan.”

  “And the other half will be too scared to piss,” Eskkar answered, the old adage never more true than now. “Good hunting to you all. I’ll see you on the twelfth day.”

  “On the twelfth day. We’ll be there, Captain.”

  For a moment Eskkar felt tempted to go over the plan once again, but he caught himself in time. Both Hathor and Klexor knew what to do. Their subcommanders would learn the news once the sun had risen and the horsemen were safely out on their way.”

  “Then get your men moving. Make sure my way is clear until dawn.”

  At the next campfire, he found Gatus and Alexar waiting for him to arrive, both of them ready to move out. “It’s time to go, Eskkar.”

  “Well, then, Gatus, lead them out.” Eskkar glanced behind him, and saw the first column of Hathor’s riders on the move.

  Everything had been discussed and planned and readied for this moment. Once the horsemen moved out, Eskkar, his commanders, everyone would be committed. If he had misjudged their enemy, or something unforeseen cropped up, they might all be dead by midday.

  Grond approached, leading two horses, and Eskkar took Boy’s halter. He’d named his favorite warhorse after the fine stallion he’d ridden many years ago. Boy stood even taller than his namesake, and Eskkar had worked with him until the two of them merged into a single fighter.

  “Well, Boy, today’s the day you earn all that grain you’ve been eating all these years.”

  He swung up onto Boy’s back. The stallion bucked once, just to show his spirit, and then settled in.

  The sun edged over the horizon, casting a rosy glow into the sky. The soldiers shoved the torches into the earth and gathered up their weapons. Gatus started the spearmen moving south. Screened by horsemen on either side, the men walked in a column four abreast, every man grunting under the heavy load of food and bulging water skins they carried, along with their weapons.

  Shouts echoed from the darkness all around them. The Sumerian sentries heard the activity, had probably crept up close enough to see what was going on. That didn’t matter, as long as they didn’t try to contest the passage, which wasn’t likely. Shulgi and Razrek had probably expected a night attack. When that had failed to materialize, the Sumerians would assume an attack at dawn. They would expect the Akkadians to move toward them, would be waiting for them when dawn broke. Indeed, Eskkar felt certain King Shulgi and his Sumerian allies had prepared well for any assault on his position.

  They were going to be surprised indeed when the sun rose.

  42

  By mid-morning a crowd of soldiers milled about near King Shulgi’s command post, blocking the path cleared and marked so that scouts and other messengers could bring messages to their leader. Swearing at the stupidity of villagers turned soldiers who couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of orders, Razrek rode his gray stallion to within fifty paces of his destination before he swung down from his horse.

  He pushed his way through a group of laughing soldiers, knocking one man aside and sending another stumbling to the ground. The offended soldier rose with a curse that died on his lips when he saw Razrek’s scowling face, even before the man recognized the Sumerian army’s second in command. King Shulgi, seated on a stool before a narrow table scarcely larger than the map that covered its surface, glanced up at Razrek’s approach.

  Shulgi’s handsome face looke
d grim, either from lack of sleep or the failure of Eskkar to attack. “Where is the barbarian?”

  Thousands of lips had mouthed the same question since well before the dawn. The Sumerians had remained awake all night, catching what rest they could while they stood at their posts, expecting an attack from the Akkadians. Before sunrise, word spread that Eskkar’s forces were on the move, and every Sumerian forgot their weariness, snatched up their weapons, and again prepared to meet his attack.

  But the dawn revealed nothing but an empty plain facing the alert and ready Sumerian force. The soldiers had breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that there might be no battle today, and fallen back into their careless habits.

  “He’s not coming, Shulgi.” Razrek’s voice sounded as harsh as the expression on his face. “Eskkar’s moving to the south with his infantry.”

  “And the cavalry?”

  “They’ve ridden off in another direction. As soon as it was light, the Akkadian cavalry galloped upstream about ten miles, then crossed over the Tigris before my men could catch them. I sent a thousand horsemen after them as soon I learned they were riding out. Our men stopped when they reached the river, and sent word back.”

  Shulgi’s fist slammed onto the table. “Your riders should have followed them, crossed the river after them, attacked them! Instead, you let them get away without even a skirmish.”

  “Perhaps. But why waste the men? The scouts say Eskkar is with his spearmen. If he’s fool enough to send his horse fighters back to Akkad to defend the city, or off on some raid, so much the better for us.”

  “If they were going back to Akkad, why cross the river?”

  Razrek shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to slow down our pursuit. Or they didn’t want to take a chance encountering the Alur Meriki. The Akkadians must have gotten word about them by now. Forget his cavalry. We should go after Eskkar. If he’s stupid enough to go south, we can catch up with him, block his path, and crush him. He’s only got a few dozen horsemen with him.”

  “I’m not moving my men until I know where Eskkar is. If we break camp and take up the pursuit, he could double back and attack us while we’re spread out, maybe destroy the vanguard. It took a whole day to get the men prepared to face him here. And all our supplies are here.” Shulgi unclenched the fist that rested on the map. “Where will he go? And why south? And why divide his men? He’s already outnumbered almost five to one.”

  Shulgi had over twenty-one thousand men with him, with more trickling in each day. His spies told him the Akkadians could scarcely muster five thousand.

  “What does it matter?” The thought of looting an entire city – especially one as rich as Akkad – brought a grin to Razrek’s face. “Now we can march on Akkad, capture his city while he’s away, and end the war with a single stroke.”

  “And what will Eskkar be doing all that time? It will take us at least a week to march to Akkad, and who knows how long to fight our way inside. Akkad’s walls are thick and high. The Akkadians have had plenty of time to prepare for our attack. It might take months to capture the city, and even longer to starve them out. In that much time, the barbarian would ravage all of Sumeria. He could force the other cities to submit, or even change sides. He might end up camped in front of Sumer.”

  Akkad’s new walls and mighty gates were the envy of every other city in the land. With a new and even deeper ditch carved beneath them it would take plenty of resources and preparation to surmount them. More important, it would take time, days, months, no one knew for certain.

  “The city may have already fallen to the Alur Meriki.” Razrek hadn’t lost his desire to go north. “If not, our men are still inside. They might still open the gates for us.”

  “If that’s true, then the city will wait,” Shulgi said. “We need to destroy Eskkar and his infantry, before he destroys us. I think he’s going to Larsa. He’s going to try and take the city and cut off our supplies.”

  Nearly every wagonload of food and grain needed by Shulgi’s army passed through Larsa. Boats and pack trains stretched all the way back to Sumer and the other cities, all with Larsa as their first destination. Ships and their cargoes stopped there, too. Shulgi’s men consumed enormous quantities of food, far more than could easily be obtained from the countryside, and the horses needed grain. It would take eight or ten days to send word south and direct the supply caravans to a new destination. With so many mouths to feed, food for the men was already in short supply. The nearby farms had been stripped clean days ago.

  “All the more reason to march on Akkad. There’s plenty of food up north.”

  “If Larsa falls, Isin and Uruk might be tempted to ally themselves with Eskkar and his men. Even worse, they could demand the return of their forces, weakening us when we need them most.”

  Razrek rested his hand on the table and leaned over. “Larsa’s walls are strong. They can hold out for weeks, maybe longer. It will take Eskkar five or six days to march his foot soldiers there. I can have five hundred horsemen there in three days. With that many extra men to strengthen the defenses, Larsa can laugh at Eskkar’s puny force.”

  “Send eight hundred,” Shulgi ordered. “And I want them moving today. I don’t care if they don’t eat or drink until they reach Larsa, or their horses drop dead from exhaustion after they arrive. And use the rest of your men to slow Eskkar down. Engage him in battle, harry his flanks, attack his rear, anything you can think of.”

  “And what will you be doing, my king, while I’m sacrificing my men by attacking Akkadian bowmen and infantry?”

  “By dawn tomorrow, as soon as we’re certain he isn’t doubling back, I’m coming after him. You just have to buy me time to catch up with him. Slow him down, while we give Larsa time to prepare. Hopefully, we’ll finish him off outside the gates of Larsa, catch him between our forces and the city’s walls.”

  “All right. I’ll send Mattaki and –”

  “No. You go yourself. Take the eight hundred. I want you inside Larsa if Eskkar ever reaches there. He’s liable to get there faster than you think. Leave Mattaki in charge of the remaining horsemen. Let him nip at Eskkar’s heels. And once you’re inside the gates, make sure the city’s elders don’t decide to change sides, or fail to mount a real defense. Cut off a few heads if you have to, but make sure you can hold out until I arrive.”

  Razrek considered his orders. At least he could take his ease in the city while waiting for Shulgi. And Larsa’s merchants were rumored to have plenty of gold.

  “As you command, Lord Shulgi. I’ll be on my way by midday. Even if Eskkar reaches the city, he’ll not get in.”

  Shulgi’s eyes returned to the map. “Make sure that he doesn’t.”

  Kushanna flung the cup clattering across the room, the water it contained splashing over the polished wood floor. Rage suffused her face, her lips narrowing in anger at Sohrab’s words.

  “Are you sure you conveyed my message exactly as I gave it to you? You left nothing out, added nothing?”

  Sohrab quailed before her wrath. “I delivered your words with care, my queen. I added nothing, I swear it.” He’d expected her to be angry, but not like this. Someone would pay for this tonight. Sohrab just hoped it wouldn’t be him.

  “Tell me again what she said. Every word, every gesture.”

  Sohrab took a moment to compose himself. A messenger who couldn’t deliver a precise message soon found himself out of work. Trained almost from birth, he could memorize and recount even a long conversation between several participants.

  “Lady Trella told me to give you this reply. She made me repeat it twice, to make sure I wouldn’t forget.” He closed his eyes for a moment, to return his thoughts to the meeting with Lady Trella. Sohrab would echo every intonation of Trella’s words.

  “She said . . . ‘Queen Kushanna of Sumer, I thank you for discovering my brother Almaric and removing him from the mines. That mercy will be returned to you. Please tell Almaric of my love, and that I expect to see him soon. But the ran
som you request of eight hundred pieces of silver for his delivery to Akkad is not possible in this time of war between our cities. I will, however, pay twenty silver coins for his quick and safe return. That is more than twice the price for a young and healthy male slave in Akkad’s market. If that price is not acceptable to you, please hold my brother safe until my husband Eskkar reaches Sumer. At that time, you can make whatever arrangements you can with him.’”

  “She dares to threaten me? When her husband reaches Sumer? I should have cut off the slave’s ears and had you take them with you.”

  Sohrab winced at the thought. Handing over Almaric’s ears to the queen of Akkad would likely have been fatal. Sohrab lowered his eyes and kept silent. Anything he said would only enrage Kushanna further.

  Kushanna wasn’t finished. “‘That mercy will be returned to you . . . when Eskkar reaches Sumer!’ The little slave bitch is trying to frighten me with her barbarian husband. I’ll have her brother’s eyes cut out and sent to her in a box!”

  Kushanna stepped across the room to the table and snatched up another cup. This one she filled with wine. “And what of the king’s army? Has he encountered the Akkadians yet?”

  Anything to change the subject, Sohrab decided. “Not yet, my queen. Eskkar and his army had marched out of Akkad three days before I met with Trella. By now King Shulgi may have already met and defeated the barbarian’s forces.”

  Queen Kushanna shook her head. “I’ve received no reports of a battle yet. In another day or two we’ll know.” She lifted the cup and drank. The strong wine helped her regain her composure.