Conflict of Empires es-3

by Sam Barone

  En-hedu showed no sign of recognition at the man’s name. Lady Trella had said they would be contacted by a man named Malok. The name was half the password.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be quick to tell people I’m from Akkad. Travelers from that evil city are still not very welcome in Sumer.”

  Despite Shulgi’s announcement of peace with his northern neighbor, people’s feelings took a long time to change. And offering that bit of advice meant nothing. Sumer’s spies kept watch on the docks, and would take note of anyone from Akkad, even a lowly riverboat crewman.

  “I grew up here in Sumeria,” Malok said. “I only attend my master, who travels up and down the river, wherever the trading takes him.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll return to the Kestrel many times,” En-hedu said.

  She scooped up the two coins and went to the ale table. Pouring a generous amount into the wooden cup, she carried it back to the table. “Supper won’t be ready until just before dark. The cook hasn’t even started.”

  “The ale will do until then.” Malok took a mouthful of ale, and sighed with pleasure. “And you are…?”

  “My name is En-hedu. My husband Tammuz and I own this place.”

  “I knew an En-hedu in my village where I grew up. A place called Ubaid. You remind me of her.”

  En-hedu laughed. “I am her, Malok. I remember now. There was a boy named Malok, son of Grimald.”

  “No, Grimald was my uncle. Tibor was my father.”

  They laughed at the seemingly chance encounter. En-hedu felt satisfied. Their little string of falsehoods agreed. Malok was the first messenger from Annok-sur, the man who would deliver and carry messages back to Akkad.

  Like any old friends reunited, they spoke of Ubaid, and En-hedu realized that Malok was indeed familiar with the village. He’d probably gone there just as she and Tammuz had done, spending just enough time to blend in. Malok had chosen a good time to visit the Kestrel. That timing might not be by chance, she decided. A quick glance toward the snoring drunks reassured her. They would sleep the remainder of the afternoon.

  “So, what’s happening now in Sumer? I hear you have a new king.”

  “Yes, King Shulgi, son of Eridu, now rules here. King Shulgi is young, but wise for his seasons. Unlike his father, our new king wants only peace. Some evil people think he murdered his father, that he wanted to seize control and to take his half-sister to his bed.” She laughed as she delivered the local gossip. “People always have to have something wicked to talk about. But I heard him speak in the marketplace months ago when he took his father’s place, and I say King Shulgi’s wits are keen, as are those of his new wife, Kushanna.”

  As if they were merely having a casual conversation, En-hedu told Malok everything she and Tammuz had learned. By the time she stopped talking, the ale in Malok’s cup was gone.

  “Well, at least there will be peace between Sumer and Akkad now.”

  “Yes, there is much talk of peace.” En-hedu put the slightest emphasis on the word talk. One of the sleeping drunks might be awake and listening. “But the recruiters are still talking to every farmboy and goatherd that enters the city, though most of the training camps around Sumer have emptied. One customer claimed they have been moved to the west, near the edge of the great desert.”

  “That seems strange,” Malok said. “Why so far from Sumer?”

  “The desert tribesmen are raiding the border again. Farms and small villages have been burned. Sumer has to protect its borders.” En-hedu shrugged. “Whatever the reason, it’s bad for business to have so many men so far away.”

  “As long as Sumer wants peace, who cares how many soldiers your king recruits, or where he sends them.”

  “Perhaps. Meanwhile King Shulgi is most active in consolidating his rule. The other cities have not yet agreed to accept his leadership. But I think they will in time. King Shulgi is governing wisely, though the taxes remain high, because the greedy barbarian king in Akkad demanded so much in ransom for Shulgi’s father.”

  Malok took another sip of ale. “I know little of such things. When warriors struggle against each other, a poor boatman like myself must just grovel in the dirt on his stomach and hope neither side steps on him.”

  En-hedu laughed at that. “Well, despite all that Akkad can do to stop us, Sumer is too powerful and too strong to not take the lead of the southern cities. People who travel up and down the rivers say that Sumer is now the largest city in the world.”

  “That’s what they say in Akkad, but with Akkad’s name instead of Sumer’s,” Malok said with a smile. “Still, peace is good for trade, which means my master and his grasping boat captains will be pleased.”

  “And good for the Kestrel. If all the men are at war, then there is no one to drink and entertain my girls. And our patron, Merchant Gemama would still demand his profit every month, no matter how many customers we had.”

  She wanted Yavtar to know that Gemama had decided to help them.

  “Then I’ll have another cup of ale, to drink to peace between our cities.”

  En-hedu fetched it. As she set it down, she passed the final piece of information. “Our new queen, Kushanna, is very wise and very powerful. She attends all the councils, and the king seeks her advice on everything.”

  “I’ll remember that, En-hedu of Ubaid. Is she as beautiful as they say?”

  “Oh yes, and a few seasons older than her new husband.” En-hedu described Kushanna in detail, knowing that Lady Trella would want to know such things.

  Two men stepped into the room, and one shouted for ale.

  “No need to shout,” En-hedu said, raising her own voice as loud as the newcomers. “I can see and hear you well enough.” She rose and smiled at Malok. “Enjoy your stay at the Kestrel.”

  En-hedu said nothing to Malok for the rest of the evening, and didn’t even tell Tammuz until they were in bed and she could whisper the words into his ear. “Make sure you see him before he leaves in the morning, so you can recognize him next time.”

  “You think he’ll be back? Maybe they’ll send someone else.”

  “He’s working on a riverboat. Now that trade has resumed, boats will be moving up and down the Tigris. He’ll probably be here every fifteen or twenty days. No one will be suspicious of a sailor spending an evening or two in a tavern.”

  “I wish we could tell Trella ourselves.”

  “The messenger will be both loyal and discreet. She will have seen to that. Now go to sleep husband.”

  He held her tight for a moment, then let himself relax. Soon he fell asleep, and En-hedu could worry without disturbing him. Tammuz was right, the most dangerous part of this enterprise was delivering the reports to the messenger. If anyone suspected him or them, a long and painful session in Shulgi’s torture room would drag the truth out of even the strongest man. Or woman. En-hedu wondered what she would do if the hot irons were pressed against the most tender parts of her body. She shivered. Best not to be taken alive, she knew.

  En-hedu cleared her mind of problems. Instead, she let herself enjoy the warmth and touch of Tammuz’s body against hers, so different from that of her previous master.

  Her first owner had been brutal and cruel, turning her into a helpless animal pleading to avoid his fists. He had broken her nose at least once, and shared her with his friends or anyone willing to pay for more ale. En-hedu cried every night, and begged the gods for a quick death to release her. Word of her mistreatment had reached Lady Trella’s ears, and she and her guards arrived at the tannery owned by En-hedu’s master, to stop the beatings that had offended and embarrassed everyone living nearby.

  With Lady Trella threatening to drive En-hedu’s owner from the city, he grudgingly accepted a decent price for his slave. Lady Trella took the frightened and still crying girl by the hand, and led her to a new life.

  It took weeks for the pain and bruises to fade, and for her wits to return. As she regained her health and strength, En-hedu impressed Lady Trella. In tim
e, she gave En-hedu to Tammuz, as young and inexperienced as herself. Like two wounded chicks in a nest, they found strength and comfort in each other.

  Together they blossomed into something stronger than either of them could have ever hoped for. The crippled boy and the plain and ungainly girl fell in love with each other, even as they spied for Lady Trella. And they also managed to strike a blow against the usurper Korthac, killing several of his soldiers during the fighting. With Tammuz’s quick reactions, he had saved Gatus’s life as well.

  Now she and Tammuz were two of Trella’s most important spies, working in the heart of Sumer. If they were successful, En-hedu and Tammuz would be greatly rewarded, and they could live a life of ease in Akkad. To achieve that goal, however, would involve much danger. Lady Trella had warned them of what would happen if they were discovered or betrayed. Death would be a mercy if they were unmasked.

  That, En-hedu decided, was not going to happen. Not if she had anything to say about it. If not for herself, then at least nothing must happen to Tammuz.

  22

  Forty days later, Shulgi and two hundred horsemen arrived at Razrek’s camp, located just before the river that marked the edge of the desert. Every man rode a sturdy horse, wore a leather helmet, and carried a good bronze sword. The men in the camp ceased their tasks and watched the king and his Sumerians’ arrival, looking for lame or weary horses, tired riders or signs of poor horsemanship skills.

  No hint of any such weakness could be seen. The competent riders sat comfortably on their horses, appearing relaxed after a five-day ride across Sumeria’s southern lands under the fierce desert heat.

  Shulgi, riding at the head of his cavalry, ignored everyone’s gaze. Since taking over from Razrek, he’d put these men through vigorous training, working them and their horses from dawn to dusk. Shulgi started by placing Vanar in charge. Between the two of them, they soon identified the troublemakers and slackers. Two executions for disobedience, one for desertion, and the transfer of another ten or so men to Razrek’s western desert force left Shulgi with a solid core of horse fighters. By that time, they were loyal only to the king of Sumer.

  As it turned out, Shulgi didn’t even have to increase their pay. Instead, he just made sure their promised wages actually reached them. As expected, Razrek had skimmed a portion each month. Since Shulgi had no urge to possess gold himself, he could give the men their due. To the horsemen, it made the long days easier to bear, and the extra coins in their purses increased their respect and loyalty for their new king and his commanders.

  Since Razrek’s departure, the defeated horse fighters now under Vanar’s command soon recovered the swagger lost in the battle with the Akkadians. Now, only a few months after Eridu’s debacle, men came to Sumer each day, eager to join the horse fighters. Already Shulgi had another hundred or so men training outside the city’s walls.

  “Welcome, my king,” Razrek called out as Shulgi halted his horse, a powerful stallion almost sixteen hands high, before Razrek’s tent. “The men look fit.”

  “Yes, my men are well enough.” Shulgi placed just the slightest emphasis on the mention of his men. “But they need a real enemy to fight.”

  “They’ll find one here, and soon enough.”

  “Then you’ve done well also. Has the leader of the Tanukhs arrived?”

  Shulgi handed off his horse and followed Razrek into the tent. No one stood out in the sun if it could be avoided.

  “Kapturu rode in last night, with fifty riders.” Razrek filled two water cups and handed one to Shulgi. “The rest of his men — he claims he has over three hundred more — are in a camp a few miles away. But I doubt he has much more than half that number. Several of the tribes have refused to join the fight. Still, with the men you brought today, we’ll have more than enough. And once we loot a few villages, more will join us.”

  “Good. Kapturu has taken enough of our gold in the last few months. Now it’s time both he and you earn some of it.”

  “Since I sent word to you in Sumer, I’ve added another fifty riders to the hundred I brought here, my king. The recruiting goes well, considering what we’ve got to work with. Not all are well trained, but they can ride, and that should be enough for now. If we only had more horses…”

  “We’ll get them from the Salibs.” He counted the men available. With those under Razrek’s orders, Shulgi commanded over four hundred riders. If this Tanukh Kapturu had half of what he claimed, they could number close to six hundred horsemen. More than enough to sweep through the desert villages. “When can we ride south?”

  The nearest Salib encampment lay almost eighty miles south, a twoday ride through the heat. “If Kapturu agrees, we can depart tomorrow. My men are ready.”

  Shulgi had no doubt that they were. He had known Razrek for almost three years, and the man knew how to recruit men, and lead them in battle. Razrek’s weaknesses were his lust for gold, and his preference for relaxing in Sumer’s alehouses. As long as Shulgi could keep Razrek away from the city’s temptations, the Sumerian would help build Shulgi’s army.

  A soldier entered the tent. “The leader of the Tanukhs is coming, commander.”

  “They must have seen you riding in,” Razrek said.

  Shulgi nodded to the guard. “Tell Vanar to join us, and to bring the gift.”

  A few moments later, they heard the sound of horses. Shulgi stepped outside the tent just as Kapturu halted his horse, a white stallion even bigger than Shulgi’s. A touch on the heels and a flick of the halter against its neck, and the animal reared up, its hooves flashing in the air before they plunged back to the earth with a spray of sand.

  Satisfied with his impressive entrance, Kapturu swung down from his mount with a swagger. The Tanukh leader, tall and with a thick black beard, patted his horse on the neck, then glanced around, his eyes resting on Shulgi only in passing.

  “Where is… ah, Razrek. The greetings of the desert to you, my friend.”

  “Welcome, Chief Kapturu, mightiest leader of the brave Tanukh clans.” Razrek favored Kapturu with a near-fawning bow before straightening up and smiling. “Enter our tent. We’ve wine and water inside.”

  Before Razrek could say anything more, Kapturu strode past Shulgi, almost brushing him aside, as the Tanukh entered the tent. Four of Kapturu’s men, either bodyguards or advisors, Shulgi couldn’t decide, followed their leader inside. They, too, ignored Shulgi, who was left standing alone outside the tent.

  Vanar walked up, pushing his way through the Tanukh horsemen. “You sent for me, Lord Shulgi?” He carried the gift under his arm.

  “Yes.” Shulgi took the bundle from his second in command. “Order your men to approach as close to the tent as possible. If there’s any trouble with these Tanukhs, I want you to be ready. Then join me inside as quickly as you can.”

  Without waiting for Vanar to reply, Shulgi ducked into the tent. The last of Kapturu’s men had just taken a seat, closing the ring that contained Razrek and the Tanukh leader, seated face to face with a small open space between them.

  “This is King Shulgi of Sumer,” Razrek announced, already aware of the awkward situation that had developed.

  Everyone turned toward Shulgi, who smiled and stepped into the circle. “One of your men will have to wait outside, Chief Kapturu.” Shulgi gestured toward the man seated at Razrek’s right. “I don’t think there’s room for all of us.”

  “This boy is your king?” Kapturu’s voice boomed throughout the tent, and his words carried easily to those waiting beyond. “I thought he was one of your playthings.”

  All the Tanukhs laughed, including Kapturu. Razrek tightened his lips, concerned that things had gone badly and could go worse.

  “I’ve a gift for you, Chief Kapturu.” Shulgi’s words slowly ended the laughter. He untied the cord fastening the bundle, unwrapped the cloth, and held up a gleaming bronze blade. Unlike the straight swords the Sumerians carried, this one had a curve that started a hand’s length from the tip, where the blade w
idened as well. “Would you like to see how well it strikes? I can kill that one now, if he doesn’t get up from my place.”

  The laughter and smiles vanished. Shulgi stood in the center of the tent, his head barely brushing the roof, with a sword in his hand. Everyone else was seated. Even if they reached for their swords, they would be at a disadvantage.

  “You dare to insult my men?” Kapturu’s voice hardened.

  The tent flap jostled again, and Vanar ducked inside. He took one look at Shulgi standing there, sword in hand, and instinctively dropped his left hand to clasp his scabbard.

  “Ah, Vanar, are your men outside? How many did you summon?”

  “Yes, my king. Two sections… sixty men.”

  “Good.” Shulgi turned to face Kapturu, sword now held high in both hands. “You might as well tell all your guards to leave.” Shulgi decided that these Tanukhs were mere bodyguards, meant to impress the Sumerians. “They won’t be needed while we speak.”

  “My men stay with me. And I don’t take orders from a Sumerian boy who calls himself a king.”

  Shulgi shrugged in resignation. “Very well.”

  He whirled around, striking as fast as any desert snake, the blade swinging sideways, narrowly missing Razrek’s head before slicing deep into the neck of the Tanukh seated beside him. The blow came so fast that no one had time to react. Blood splattered everywhere, the spray covering Razrek. Without stopping after the killing stroke, Shulgi spun the blade around, its bloody tip now a hand’s length from Kapturu’s throat.

  “Would you like a further demonstration, Chief Kapturu?”

  “Stop!” Kapturu directed the word, not at Shulgi, but to the rest of his men, who had started to draw their weapons. Seated on the ground, Kapturu knew he’d be dead before anyone could strike a blow in his defense.

  Shulgi’s eyes flickered to Vanar. His commander remained in the tent’s opening, blocking the entrance, and no one outside could have seen what happened. “Perhaps we should begin our meeting.” Shulgi took a half-step backwards, then thrust the bloody blade deep into the sand. “As you can see, this sword will take a man’s head from his shoulders with ease.”