by Sam Barone
“Get the men moving, Gatus.” Eskkar raised his voice. “At least we’ve taught the Sumerians not to try and sneak up on us during the night. Now it’s time to march.”
They broke camp quickly. The men were used to eating as they walked, and it took little time to gather weapons and begin moving.
“Your skirmishers did well,” Gatus said, when Eskkar guided his horse alongside the old soldier.
“And not a man lost,” Eskkar agreed. “Now we’ll see what they can do at Larsa.”
Gatus drove the men hard the rest of the morning. They complained and groaned at the pace, but their legs kept moving, drawing closer to Larsa with each step, and no one dropped out. The archers, slingers and the rest of the company dared not complain, since they all carried less weight than Gatus’s men. Instead they matched the spearmen’s pace, and covered the ground with long strides that ate up the miles.
The Akkadians soon had their usual escort of enemy horsemen at their flanks and rear. By now, seeing so many of the enemy close no longer worried the infantry. It didn’t matter how many Sumerian horsemen surrounded them, as long as the archers protected the spearmen, both were safe from Razrek’s cavalry.
The enemy hadn’t tried to stop them yet, but Eskkar expected that to happen soon enough. Once the Sumerian horsemen on Eskkar’s left drew a little too close. Eskkar called out to Mitrac, who noticed the same encroachment and with a few swift orders, prepared his men.
When the enemy drifted a little closer, Mitrac barked out an order. One hundred archers stopped, strung their bows, and launched five arrows each. Many of the shafts fell short, and the riders turned and ran as soon as they saw the first flight of arrows, but at least half a dozen horses and men went down, caught by surprise by the rain of arrows. It wasn’t much of an exchange for the five hundred arrows launched, but it would teach the Sumerians not to come too close.
In moments the archers jogged back to their place in their ranks, and the moving column hadn’t even slowed its pace.
But just before noon, the scouts riding a few hundred paces in advance halted as they crested a low hill. Eskkar put his heels to his horse and rode out to join them.
Hundreds of Sumerians waited about eight hundred paces ahead. They’d built up a low breastwork of dirt and a few trees, and now stood behind the makeshift barrier. All the ones in the front had bows, and more men, some on foot, others on horseback, took position behind them. Eskkar glanced at the Sumerian horsemen who’d been shadowing them, and saw they had formed lines and moved in closer. They would attack if the Akkadians ranks stretched too thin. And if he decided to avoid this encounter, his men would waste valuable time.
It didn’t matter. Before Eskkar had finished studying the enemy formation, Gatus took charge.
“Spearmen!” Gatus’s voice rose up over the excited soldiers. “Take battle positions.” His subcommanders shifted the men quickly from the column into a wider front, the spearmen three deep. They shrugged off their sacks, pulled bronze helmets onto their heads, and readied their shields and spears.
“Slingers!” Gatus’s bellow could be heard by every Akkadian. “Form up behind the spearmen!”
The slingers, even more excited than the spearmen, took their position. This was their first test. They would have to provide support for the spearmen when they charged.
“Alexar, position the archers at the rear and flanks. Keep the horsemen at bay.” Eskkar gave the command but Alexar knew what had to be done and had already dispatched his subcommanders. Every bow was strung, and arrows nocked to the string.
Gatus wheeled his horse from in front of the spearmen. “Prepare to advance at a walk!” He waited while the command was echoed down the line by the subcommanders. “Advance!”
Every left foot took the first step, and the line of spearmen strode confidently toward the Sumerians. They carried their heavy wooden spears low in the right hand, to conserve strength, while holding their shields high to protect the face and upper body. The second, third and fourth ranks, when they were in range of the enemy arrows, would raise their shields up to cover their heads.
The whole shift from a marching column to battle formation took only moments, and to the Sumerians it must have looked as if the Akkadians had hardly slowed their march.
Eskkar took position with his horsemen, pacing along behind the slingers. When the Sumerians broke, his small group of Akkadian and Ur Nammu riders would charge into the enemy rear.
Gatus had dismounted and handed his mare over to one of the camp boys. He walked just ahead of the slingers, guarded by two spearmen on either side.
Mitrac, bow in hand, led the archers only a few paces behind the slingers. A few more steps, and the enemy position was within their range. “Archers! Prepare to shoot!” He, too, waited a moment for the command to travel up and down the line. “Shoot! Keep shooting!”
Seven hundred archers stretched in a line three deep behind him. Without breaking stride, they raised their bows and launched the first volley at the entrenched Sumerians. Another was on its way before the first landed, and a third a moment later.
Almost two thousand arrows struck the Sumerians with devastating effect, and before their own bows could even reach the approaching spearmen. But the enemy’s first flight of arrows flew toward the advancing line. Most fell short, but a few struck the shields. One man went down, an arrow in his leg. More enemy arrows flew toward steadily advancing infantry, who now presented a shield wall to the front and overhead. The Sumerians could manage only a jagged volley that showed the nervousness of their archers, daunted by the sheer volume of shafts raining down on them. Eskkar saw their faces turning to the left and right, looking for the first man to turn and run, all of them hesitant now to stand in place against their Akkadian counterparts while the frightening line of spears moved steadily toward them.
By now the spearmen had covered half the distance. “Ready weapons!” Gatus had to bellow the command this time, as the noise and din of a battlefield began to grow.
As if it were a single movement, the spears were raised and held above the right shoulder. The second and third ranks moved even closer to the front, the raised shields now covering almost every part of the ranks.
“Charge!”
The spearmen broke into a run, but kept the line even and their shields held out before them. For the first time they voiced their war cries as they charged toward the enemy. “Akkad!” burst from twenty-eight hundred lungs as they charged.
Eskkar saw the first of the Sumerians turn and run. Fear spread quickly and more men abandoned their position. The Akkadians closed the gap in moments. Arrows continued to rain down on the fleeing Sumerians, and now stones from the slingers whizzed through the air, striking with a loud thud when they struck a shield, or with the softer sound of crushing flesh.
Almost none of the enemy stood their ground, and the few that did accomplished nothing by their bravery but their deaths. With shouts of “Akkad!” still ringing out over the ground, the spearmen smashed into the now abandoned barrier, scrambled over it and kept going at a run.
The Sumerians – caught by surprise at the rapid and deadly advance – turned to escape. But due to the speed of the attack, confusion reigned, as Sumerians bumped into each other as they tried to reach their horses. Stones from the slingers arched up into the sky before raining down on the confused mass, sending horses bucking and tossing riders from their backs. The archers followed, but they held their arrows until they climbed atop of what was left of the breastwork. That gave them a slight height advantage, and they stopped and began shooting.
The spearmen closed with those Sumerians still surging backwards. Most had thrown down their bows and now struggled to catch and mount their horses, escape their only thought. Eskkar never heard who gave the order, but the first rank of spearmen had reached within forty paces. They cast their long spears, drew their swords, and closed with the enemy.
The Ur Nammu – without waiting for the order – charge
d, sweeping around to the right, where a narrow piece of empty ground let them bypass the exultant spearmen. The rest of the Akkadian horses followed.
As Eskkar reached the crest, he pulled up and turned to see the rear. The Sumerians at their rear and flanks had hardly tried to approach. The remaining archers, staying close behind the charging ranks, had kept them at bay.
By the time he returned his gaze to what remained of the Sumerian position, the carnage had ended. Bodies littered the ground, horses and men, victims of arrows, stones, spears, swords. The Sumerians were still fleeing as fast as their horses could gallop, and more than a few were on foot and running for their lives, trying to reach the safety of their still-mounted brethren before the shouting Ur Nammu, shooting arrows as they rode, ran them down.
Gatus finally halted the advance. He gave the men a few moments rest, which they used to loot the dead of anything valuable. The Ur Nammu, too, broke off the pursuit, and devoted their time to collecting another two dozen horses.
Drakis strode up to Eskkar. “Gatus took the count, Captain. Forty-six enemy dead, probably as many again wounded. One of our men was killed, struck in the eye by an arrow. Five more wounded.”
Eskkar grunted in satisfaction, the results more favorable than he had expected. Not many enemy dead, but only because the Sumerians had fled before the spearmen reached them. A good exchange. “Get the wounded on horses, and tell Gatus to get the men moving again.” He glanced up at the sun. “We’ve wasted enough time here.” Before Eskkar’s order could reach him, Gatus and his commanders started regrouping the men, getting them into formation, and resuming the march.
That evening, after the men had eaten, Eskkar gathered his commanders around him.
“Today the men proved themselves, as did their commanders. You all fought bravely. There was no confusion, no doubt, no fear. The men followed Gatus’s orders, and went forward without hesitation. Watching the Sumerians run like rabbits will give our men confidence. Meanwhile, the Sumerian cavalry will spread the word of their defeat. I doubt they’ll be willing to face us again.”
The smiles on their faces showed they agreed with his words.
“Now we’ll face the next test. Tomorrow we’ll reach Larsa. The Sumerians will be in the city and the cavalry will still be nipping at our flanks at every opportunity. We’re probably three or four days ahead of Shulgi’s army, but we won’t have any time to waste. We need to take Larsa quickly. If we let Shulgi get too close, he might decided to sacrifice his horsemen just to slow us down.”
“Razrek won’t go along with that,” Gatus said, “not from what we’ve heard.”
“Razrek will do whatever he’s told,” Eskkar said, “provided there’s enough gold in it for him. I don’t want to take the chance. Remember, Shulgi will do what he thinks is needed to win. For him, victory makes up for any losses, no matter how steep. If he doesn’t win, and soon, his soldiers may begin to wonder about their leader’s plan.”
“Then we’ll make sure they all have plenty to worry about.”
“That we will, Gatus. Now let’s get the men to stop boasting about what they did today and have them get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be another long day, with maybe a hard fight facing them. They may not have a chance to get much sleep again.”
48
Day 4
Just after mid-afternoon the Akkadian army rounded a bend in the Tigris and saw the city of Larsa, about two miles ahead. A ragged cheer arose at the sight, and Eskkar didn’t know if his men were just glad to stop marching or if they looked forward to coming to grips with their enemy.
Without any distractions from the Sumerians, either last night or today, Eskkar and his soldiers made good time and reached the outskirts of the city with plenty of daylight left. Gatus had pushed the men so hard that even the strongest complained. By now the army had been marching at top speed every day for nine days, and some of the men who’d traveled down from the north even longer. Their legs might be tired, but muscles rippled on every limb. Yet all the mutterings ceased as soon as the men caught a glimpse of their destination.
In four days the Akkadians – unprotected by cavalry – had marched almost one hundred miles, a distance that Eskkar would not have believed possible two years ago. His men had accomplished something never before done, and he felt proud of them.
“Is that the farm?” Gatus had ridden up to join Eskkar and Grond atop a little hillock that gave them a better view of the city’s outskirts.
“Yes, the one with three willow trees.” Eskkar had just identified it from Trella’s description. He’d visited Larsa twice before in his wanderings, but never paid any attention to the countless farms scattered over the landscape. This particular farm was about a mile from the city, and had the slight distinction of possessing two rickety jetties extending a few paces from the riverbank into the Tigris.
“Let’s hope that Yavtar can find the place,” Gatus said.
“He will.” Eskkar had complete confidence in the master sailor, who long ago had memorized every turn and twist in the mighty river. “Now let’s get there and make camp so the men can get some rest.”
Gatus shouted to his commanders, and pointed the way forward. The Akkadians soon covered the last mile of their journey. Eskkar and Grond swung down from their horses in front of the humble house. The farm’s owners had abandoned it as soon as they caught sight of the approaching soldiers, and Eskkar could still see the family running toward the city, carrying a few possessions and driving three cows before them as they fled. A good sign, he decided. That meant that word of their arrival hadn’t yet reached every part of the countryside, or that his Akkadians had moved faster than anyone expected.
The soldiers settled in around the farm and started building their night camp. As soon as that task got under way, Gatus released the men in shifts, so that they could splash and bathe in the river, soak their feet, and clean themselves and their clothes for the first time in days.
Eskkar decided not to waste any daylight. “Bring the prisoners.”
The Akkadian horsemen had rounded up fourteen men and women during the last half of the morning’s march, all farmers except for one trader and his three porters, caught before they could scurry their way into Larsa. Every one of them looked terrified, not knowing what fate awaited them. Escorted into Eskkar’s presence, he saw the trembling in their limbs and fear on their faces, no matter how well they tried to mask it. One or two seemed hardly able to stand, so great was their fright.
Instead of death or torture, Eskkar greeted them with a smile. “I am Eskkar, King of Akkad. I want you to forget what tales you’ve been told about me and my men. You are all free to go to Larsa. But I want you to carry a message for me to King Naran. You are to tell him to surrender his city to me by sundown. Tell him I offer the people of Larsa this one chance to save their homes and their lives. If King Naran does not surrender, I will destroy it and all those who resist.”
Silence greeted his words at first, then quick smiles as they realized they might not be killed or enslaved. Eskkar made them repeat the message twice, to make sure they wouldn’t forget it, and sent them on their way. They kept glancing behind them as they stumbled out of the camp, as if still expecting to be slaughtered.
“I never understood why men like that fear death so much,” Grond said. “We all die sooner or later. Any chance of Larsa surrendering?”
Eskkar shook his head. “No, not with Razrek and his men inside the walls. He knows he only has to hold out for a few days, until Shulgi catches up with us. Even if King Naran were willing to take a chance on our mercy, Razrek is the real power in Larsa by now. But I had to give them the chance. It’s something they and others will remember later.”
“Good. I’d rather see this place torn down anyway. It’s been a thorn in our side for years. When do we attack?”
“If Yavtar arrives by sundown, we attack tonight. If he doesn’t come, we’ll go tomorrow, with or without him.”
“Do you
want me to send some scouts up the river?”
“No, we don’t want to call any attention to it yet. The Sumerians might try to intercept the ships, and we need those cargoes.”
Eskkar stepped into the farmhold’s main house, then climbed up the rickety ladder to the roof. It gave him a good view of the camp, bustling with activity, and he could even see upriver a little way. When Eskkar turned his gaze to the south, he enjoyed a good view of Larsa’s walls rising up over the swells of land. He’d kept his worries to himself, at least as best he could, but the moment of truth had nearly arrived.
If they couldn’t captured Larsa, which meant take it before Shulgi’s vast army arrived, the Akkadians would be trapped between the two forces. In that case, Eskkar and his men would have to ford the Tigris and try to battle their way north, back to Akkad, his entire battle plan in ruins. If he failed here, his commanders, every man in the army would know the truth, and he would see it in their eyes.
He shook his head, and forced the gloomy thought from his mind. Eskkar had a powerful army at his disposal, and the enemy behind Larsa’s gates would be fearing disaster. The city’s inhabitants had been told that all the battles would take place in the north, that no Akkadians would ever step foot on Larsa’s countryside. Now they knew that Shulgi had failed to deliver on his promised protection. Few would be resting comfortably in Larsa tonight, despite Razrek’s reinforcements.
Below the farmhouse, Eskkar saw the orderly preparations of his men. They were ready for the coming battle, and as yet they had no doubts of success. Most of the soldiers believed in Eskkar’s good fortune, his ability to snatch victory from any desperate encounter no matter what the odds. That belief had served him well, but it needed only one setback to shatter the aura of invincibility and luck they all believed in.
No sense worrying about defeat now, Eskkar resolved. He considered descending the roof and helping organize the men, but decided not to. Gatus and the others knew what needed to be done. Instead, Eskkar stretched out, flung his arm over his face, and closed his eyes. He wasn’t as tired as most of his men, and the sun still shone brightly down on the land. Still he knew he needed to get as much rest as he could, because there would be no sleep for him tonight. Despite the noise and bustle surrounding the farmhouse, he fell asleep, hoping his luck would hold for one more day.