by Sam Barone
“If you’re afraid…”
Thutmose-sin held up his hand to stop Rethnar’s hot words. “No one here is afraid. But we must do what is best for our clan.” He turned to the other commander, by far the youngest of the group. “What course would you choose, Bar’rack?”
“My blood cries out for vengeance against Eskkar and his dirt-eaters. My brother lies dead and unburied in some nameless ground, ambushed by the renegade Eskkar and the cowardly Ur Nammu. Since that day, I’ve sworn to take Eskkar’s head from his shoulders. But, like Urgo, I do not think we should let ourselves be used by these Sumerians.”
Rethnar swore under his breath. “Our warriors cry out for revenge, and none of you want to fight. The young men think their leaders are weak, unwilling to fight. When they learn that we have let slip an opportunity to strike Akkad, they will burn with fury.” He set his gaze on Thutmose-sin. “What do you say, sarum?”
Thutmose-sin ignored the hint of insult in the use of his title. There was already too much bad blood between Rethnar and himself, fanned to a red-hot heat since the defeat at Akkad’s walls. Rethnar was right about one thing. Word of this offer of alliance would get out. Rethnar would be the first to tell every member of his clan.
“I, too, want to see the renegade Eskkar killed.” Thutmose-sin touched the scar on his forehead. “I fought him the night he burned the wagons, and would have killed him if my sword had not shattered. One more stroke.” He shook his head at the grim memory.
“In the years since that battle, we have added hundreds of warriors. But Akkad has grown by thousands, and we know they have learned from Eskkar the way of a warrior. They are no longer simple villagers who can be swept aside. They’ve trained themselves to fight with bow and sword and lance. Even if we get into the city, the fighting will be fierce. If we attempt this, we would need to send every warrior we have into the battle. Anything less will fail. Even if we win, our losses will be heavy, and might well doom the Alur Meriki.”
“That is wise,” Urgo said, speaking quickly before Rethnar said anything to make things worse. “If we lose too many warriors, we may never recover. Already we face a growing number of enemies.”
“But if these Sumerians can get us over the wall,” Rethnar said, “I don’t care how many men they have inside the city. If the dirt-eaters are at war, we can take advantage of those staying behind. Once inside, we can slaughter thousands, burn the city from within. If the traitor Eskkar is not there to lead them, they will be no match for my fighters.” He glanced at the other commanders. “I will lead the raid with all the men in my clan, if no one else has the courage to fight. I will take the help of the Sumerians. We can deal with them later.”
“Your three hundred warriors will not be enough,” Urgo said. “Better to not attempt any raid unless you have enough men to be certain of success.”
The Alur Meriki now counted almost a thousand warriors fit to ride and fight. But most were young and inexperienced. Thutmose-sin had more than four hundred under his standard. Two other clan chiefs, both absent on raids, controlled another two hundred. But all four clan leaders present knew these other leaders wanted no part of a return to Akkad’s walls. Whatever decision would be made, would be made by those present.
Both Urgo and Rethnar turned toward Bar’rack. His clan was the newest of the Alur Meriki, made up of survivors of three other clans that had taken heavy losses in the fight against Akkad. More than a hundred and fifty warriors rode under Bar’rack’s banner.
Bar’rack glanced at Thutmose-sin, and caught the slightest inclination of his head. Rethnar, caught up in his rage, didn’t notice. Bar’rack took but a moment to comprehend what Thutmose-sin wanted. “If the sarum approves, I will ride with Rethnar,” Bar’rack said. “Between our clans, we have enough warriors to punish Akkad. But if we cannot get over the walls by stealth, then I will not waste my warriors’ lives attacking the city.”
“I accept Bar’rack’s warriors.” Rethnar couldn’t hold in the smile of satisfaction. “We will destroy Akkad.”
“If we cannot get in,” Bar’rack repeated, “then we will raid the countryside and devastate the lands of Akkad. That will be more than enough to repay us for the risk, at least for now.”
Thutmose-sin looked at Urgo.
“It is almost enough,” Urgo said. He, too, had caught the Sarum’s signal. “I will contribute fifty warriors to fight under Bar’rack’s orders. That will give Rethnar at least five hundred men. He speaks the truth when he says our warriors need to fight. A raid such as this will give them a chance to avenge their honor.”
That many men would constitute a major raid, more than enough to destroy the crops and herds of the Akkadians. No matter what happened at the walls, the devastation to the countryside would be crippling to the city.
Thutmose-sin nodded in acceptance. “Then the Alur Meriki will raid the lands of Akkad next summer. But both of you will safeguard your warriors. I do not want lives thrown away.”
Rethnar climbed to his feet. If he heard the Sarum’s words, he didn’t bother to agree with them. “Then I will go and speak with this Razrek. There is much that needs to be discussed, but we have nearly a whole season to prepare.”
L ater that evening, as most of the vast camp prepared for sleep, Thutmose-sin and Bar’rack walked to the edge of the narrow stream. They reached a small boulder and sat down, facing each other. No others were within a hundred paces.
“You are satisfied with the Sumerian?”
Rethnar and Bar’rack had spent most of the night working out the details with Razrek.
“Yes. He’s brave enough for a dirt-eater, and he has planned out every step that will be needed. There will be more meetings in the coming months, but if things happen as the Sumerian believes, we should be able to get into Akkad.”
“And if not, then I will count on you to save as many warriors as you can. Do not let Rethnar throw away the lives of his men or yours. Remain calm in the heat of battle, and think not of the glory of fighting, but of winning.”
“You do not think this plan will succeed?”
Thutmose-sin took a deep breath. “I don’t know. If it were so certain, the Sumerians might try it themselves. I do know that Eskkar is no fool. The night my father put his family to death, Eskkar managed to escape the warriors, even though he was but a boy. He even killed a man before he fled. Then, instead of dying in the lands of the dirt-eaters, he survived and grew strong. Now he rules one of their largest cities. He will not be defeated easily, either by these Sumerians or by Rethnar.”
“Still, we may win a great victory.”
“Rethnar is right about one thing. Our young men grow restless. They need a challenge like this if they are to grow strong. We lost much honor when we were defeated outside of Akkad’s walls. This would regain much of that.”
“Then I will do my utmost to make sure Rethnar succeeds.”
“In that case, every member of the clan will praise your name, Bar’rack.” He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I should give you my thanks now. Because if Rethnar destroys Akkad, then when he returns with his victory he will be Clan Leader of the Alur Meriki. And I will be dead.”
35
With each passing month, Tammuz and En-hedu watched in satisfaction as business at the Kestrel improved. As trade among the Sumerian cities picked up, traffic on the river had grown. Boats arrived almost each day from the north, venturing down the Euphrates and Tigris rivers, as well as the numerous streams that flowed between them, to deliver cargoes to anxious buyers waiting on Sumer’s docks. After the boats unloaded, their crews sought refreshment from the many inns or simple taverns that sold ale or wine.
The Kestrel, now open for business almost a year and a half, attracted many of these crewmen, most eager to part with a portion of their pay for a chance to drink with their friends and new acquaintances, eat a good meal, and in many cases obtain relief from their more basic urges. Tammuz told En-hedu that they would soon need another girl t
o help Irkalla and Anu.
En-hedu’s massage business had grown even faster than the Kestrel. With Ninlil paying for a massage every other day, more women from the better classes soon enquired after En-hedu’s skills. Since the wealthy in Sumer now included many wives of the senior soldiers, women of all classes and ages sought En-hedu’s soothing hands. Within a few months, she earned as much from her massages as Tammuz did from the Kestrel.
Despite her success, En-hedu enjoyed her evenings helping Tammuz in the alehouse. The need to provide massages at night had vanished, and except on rare occasions, the last massage ended at sundown.
Tonight, customers filled every available table and bench in the inn. A trading boat from Akkad had made port today, as well as two from Larsa and another from Nippur. With such a large crowd, Tammuz and Enhedu kept a close watch on the ale, while Rimaud kept the more boisterous patrons under constant observation, alert for any signs of trouble. Despite their vigilance, an occasional fight still broke out, but Rimaud’s reputation for flinging any offenders out into the lane lessened the number of such conflicts. Why fight, when there was good ale to be drunk in the company of pleasant companions? Those with more serious issues resolved them outside in the lane.
After sundown, the cook and her staff departed, their work for the day finished. Anyone still hungry at this hour would have to make do with bread from the basket hanging on the wall behind the ale table.
When Jarud stepped through the open door, Tammuz waved a greeting and started filling a pitcher. Most of the ale he purchased each day at the market was of only fair taste. But now he could afford to include a few jars of better quality brew that he reserved for his best customers.
The recently promoted leader of twenty for Sumer’s watch settled into his bench just as Tammuz arrived with the ale and a reasonably clean cup. Four other members of the night watch were already crowded around the table, but they made room for their leader.
“Hello, innkeeper.” Jarud scooped up the fresh cup the moment Tammuz placed it on the table. “I’ve worked up a thirst tonight. Two fights already broken up, and a thief caught in the act and sent to the work gangs. And it’s still early in the evening.”
“Greetings, Jarud. Are you through for the night?”
“No, I just stopped in for a cup of ale and to get a bit of rest. One of my men is guarding two boatmen from Nippur outside. If their captains don’t want to pay for them in the morning, they’ll do twenty days’ labor in the work gang.”
Tammuz smiled. “They always pay, don’t they? Not many captains want to pull an oar themselves, especially upriver.”
Everyone laughed at that. Only in dire circumstances was a boat captain likely to pick up an oar. Some boatmen claimed they’d never seen one do any real work. That fact helped Sumer’s guards make themselves a few extra coins when desperate ship owners, no doubt with a schedule to keep, had to purchase their sailors’ freedom.
“A full house tonight.” Jarud glanced around the inn. “Anyone causing problems here?”
“Not a one. Your men have been helping keep the place quiet most of the night.”
“Well, then at least they’re doing something to earn their pay, besides sitting on their lazy asses. What they should be doing is walking the lanes, looking for troublemakers. But I’ll have to take them with me when I leave.”
“Not all of them.” Tammuz let the dismay sound in his voice. Except when he was short-handed, Jarud could usually be counted on to leave at least one of his men at the Kestrel.
Jarud shook his head. “New commander in charge tonight, so we can’t afford to look like we’re loafing on the watch. He’ll be here a few months, until he gets a command of his own.”
“I thought you just got a new commander.”
“That was thirty, forty days ago.” Jarud laughed and took another mouthful of ale. “You need to get out of your tavern more often. Still, Kourosh won’t be here long. He’s too good to be wasted guarding Sumer’s fat merchants and lazy shopkeepers. He brought a few of his men with him from the desert, and they worship him like a god. King Shulgi is already preparing a command for him.”
Sumer’s king had returned from the desert months ago, and immediately started recruiting and training an army, supposedly to wage further war against the desert tribes, though only a fool believed that. Desert fighting belonged to those on horseback, and King Shulgi already had a vast contingent of cavalry. Now he spent his time visiting the other Sumerian cities, helping them raise their own forces, supposedly for protection against future desert raids.
Tammuz showed no particular interest in Jarud’s new commander. Instead, Tammuz held out his hand. “One copper for the pitcher. I still have to make my living.”
Jarud pointed at one of his men. “Pay the innkeeper.”
A worn copper coin appeared, and was grudgingly handed over, despite the fact that the pitcher had been a large one and contained the best ale in the house, in honor of Jarud’s appearance.
“Good luck with your new commander,” Tammuz said, after giving the coin a brief inspection. Sumer’s night watch came into contact with plenty of fake coins, and had little compunction about trying to pass them off. “Come back when your watch is ended. I’ll save some good ale for you.”
“You always say that,” Jarud countered, “and it’s always the same piss.”
“I collect it just for you from the piss pot outside. At least it’s always fresh.”
Everyone laughed, and Tammuz went back to the table where Enhedu was busy helping Irkalla. He stood beside his wife, until Irkalla left the table to deliver another cup of ale. “I just heard Sumer’s going to have a new captain of the guard, a man named Kourosh.”
En-hedu nodded. “Those three in the corner table look like trouble.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them.” He knew that En-hedu would remember Kourosh’s name. Between the two of them, they often picked up bits of information. They already knew the names of most of Shulgi’s commanders and their assignments. But Jarud’s few words about the new man’s skill were much more interesting. A popular leader, especially one who knew his trade, would rise quickly in Sumer’s military hierarchy. Men who could lead were always in short supply, whether in Akkad or Sumer.
Such a man would be worth watching, and his name would be reported to Akkad by the next messenger. By then Tammuz would know quite a bit more about the man, his origins, his skills, and his strengths and weaknesses. En-hedu had already collected a wealth of information from the commanders wives, most of them eager to talk about what their husband or lover was doing.
During the first few months, Tammuz had wondered about the usefulness of what he and En-hedu were learning. Now he saw the value in the reports that went to Akkad every month or so. In the last year, Sumer’s soldiers had regained both their pride and their confidence. Once again they swaggered through the lanes, benefiting from the stern training instituted by King Shulgi and Vanar, his infantry commander. Border patrols to the east, and the desert fighting to the west, had toughened them up. To Tammuz and En-hedu, the sheer size of the forces being recruited could have only one ultimate objective — the city of Akkad.
Still, life in Sumer had grown quite pleasant for them. One year and half of another had passed since their arrival. The city’s population had increased greatly in that time, and by now the Kestrel and its owners were accepted as if they had lived there all their lives. Tammuz and En-hedu had gathered and dispatched many reports to Akkad during that time. Perhaps, Tammuz decided, it was time to start doing more than just gathering information.
M ore than thirty days later, Tammuz glided through Sumer’s darkened lanes, as silent as a shadow and attracting as much attention. Most of the city’s inhabitants had secured their doors and settled in for a good night’s sleep. Only those few returning from the ale houses remained up and about. And Sumer’s night watch, of course, prowling about and keeping an eye on things.
The new moon shed almost no light,
but Tammuz knew the way through all of the city by now. Since he first heard Kourosh’s name mentioned as the latest leader of the night watch, Tammuz had learned much about the increasingly popular commander. Bits of conversation heard in the Kestrel had helped, as members of Sumer’s guard offered plenty of praise for their new leader. A stern but fair taskmaster, Kourosh forced recruits and veterans alike to train each day with sword and spear, often from dawn to dusk. Despite the petty grumblings, Tammuz noticed a hint of pride in these men. Kourosh knew his trade and, more important, he knew how to train his men and earn their respect.
Twice in the last ten days Tammuz had slipped out of the Kestrel late at night and walked the lanes. As tonight’s work ended, he had watched Kourosh drink with some of his senior men at a tavern he favored, one closer to the barracks. The new commander of the guard had never visited the Kestrel, but over the last month Tammuz had seen Kourosh several times, training his men and escorting them to and from the docks, a route that often took him past the Kestrel.
Now Tammuz stood in the shadows at the end of another long day and half of the night. No more ale would be sold until the morning, and those who had no place to go would sleep in the tavern or find an empty spot in the lane. The taverns had already disgorged the last of their customers and started fastening their doors. The evening’s drinking had ended, and both innkeepers and their patrons needed to sleep, if they were to work hard the next day.
Kourosh and five soldiers came out of the tavern fifty paces away, talking loudly, one of the usual effects from too much ale. Two men departed down the lane, but Kourosh — recognizable by his stocky build — and the other two began walking toward Tammuz.
Staying in the shadows, Tammuz slipped away and moved ahead of the three, hurrying toward the king’s Compound, where Kourosh had his comfortable quarters. If the two soldiers accompanying their commander returned to the Compound with their leader, then Tammuz would have wasted another night. But if they turned toward the barracks, then Kourosh would complete the last few hundred steps of his journey alone.