by Sam Barone
Eskkar ate without tasting, pushing the warm chicken into his mouth, washing it down with well-watered ale. He left untouched the plate of still warm vegetables that he usually enjoyed, especially when dipped in oil.
At last Eskkar pushed his plate away and lifted his eyes to find Trella’s gaze on him.
“The barbarians are coming once again,” Trella said. “It’s almost as it was the night before the Alur Meriki attacked. We’ve done all we can to prepare. Now we have to fight to learn our fate.”
“The Sumerians aren’t barbarians.”
“Yes, they are, husband. Of a different sort, but just as eager to destroy what we’ve built. It seems as if mankind is divided into two kinds of people: barbarians who want to take from others, and those of us who want to make something better for ourselves, our friends and our children. All the progress we’ve made in the last few years, it’s all the work of a few good men working together. In a way, the Sumerians are even worse barbarians than the Alur Meriki. At least the steppe people know no other way. But Sumeria’s rulers should know better. They should work for their own people. Instead they crave triumphs over their own kind and others. They create disaster everywhere. They must be stopped.”
Eskkar accepted the gentle rebuke. Trella understood his concerns, his worries, his fear of failure. But she also wanted him to stand strong, and do what had to be done.
“Not stopped, Trella. They must be crushed, beaten down so hard that they never attempt this kind of war again. To give passage to the Tanukhs, the enemy of their own kind… everyman’s enemy, so that they can pillage our lands… you’re right, they’re worse than the Alur Meriki ever could be.”
“You are the man to do it, Eskkar. There is no other in Akkad who can do what needs to be done.”
“It will be a hard fight,” he reminded her, though she as well as anyone understood the ways of war. “Many will die.”
“If you do not win, everyone in Akkad may die. Remember that, Eskkar. Do what you must to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Sargon and I will await your return.”
Without realizing it, Trella had uttered much the same words that every mother in the Alur Meriki and other barbarian clans spoke when they bid their husbands and sons a final message before departing for war — return victorious over your enemies, or die bravely. Only by victory could the women and children left behind be truly safe.
Eskkar reached out and touched her hand. “Then I’ll return with a victory, wife.”
40
Five days later the Tanukhs continued raiding the southern countryside, but they had not moved as far north as Eskkar expected. Instead they remained close to Kanesh and the Sippar. Hundreds of farmers and villagers had fled the desert horsemen’s advance, running in fear to Akkad, some continuing on to even more distant villages. Most of the land between the city and Kanesh lay empty. There would be no harvest this season, and crops not burned by Tanukhs would wither in the fields. Only mounted scouts from both sides now ranged the empty land, each probing the other’s strength and gathering what information they could.
As Eskkar predicted, the same day the Tanukhs attacked Kanesh, the Sumerians summoned their men, gathered their forces, and moved northward. Shulgi’s vast army of soldiers traveled slowly, carrying a mountain of food with them, and making sure their supply lines remained intact. To everyone’s surprise, they halted when they reached Kanesh, and soon word reached the Akkadians that Shulgi had begun strengthening the village’s defenses.
With the war now openly proclaimed, Trella’s spies and informers had gleaned the basic thrust of Shulgi’s plan. He intended to march to Akkad north along the Tigris, but he also planned to establish half a dozen fortified outposts along the way. If that required twenty or thirty days, or even longer, it didn’t matter. Shulgi intended to ensure that supplies from the south could continue to reach his massive force. If attacked by Akkad’s army, the Sumerians could simply fall back to the nearest outpost and regroup before resuming their northward trek.
Trella had even learned the planned location of the last outpost, a mere four miles from Akkad. From there, Shulgi’s men would encircle the city. Crowded with people, the city would have to surrender in a few months when the food ran out.
Eskkar spent half the morning with his commanders discussing the latest reports, though they added little to what he already knew. When he had heard all the evil tidings he could stomach, he dismissed his men. Now only he and Trella remained in the Map Room, except for Ismenne. Eskkar wanted her there, in case anything in the map’s terrain affected his plan.
He closed the door. “I’ve decided on a way to defeat Shulgi’s forces. Before I tell Gatus and the others, I wanted to share it with you both. I need to know if it can work.”
Ismenne’s eyes darted back and forth, but Trella merely looked curious. She knew Eskkar had spent most of the night alone in the Map Room. “Whatever way we can help, husband.”
He put his hand on the map beside the city of Akkad. Step by step, he went through what he wanted to do, what he would need at each step of the way, and how he expected the Sumerians to react. When Eskkar finished, he stood at the foot of the table and his hand rested on the city of Sumer.
Ismenne’s eyes were wide with astonishment. Trella merely nodded. “A dangerous plan, Eskkar, but what else would I expect from you? Come, Ismenne, let us see what we can do to help Eskkar. We must think of everything that may go wrong as well, and at every stage.”
They returned to the head of the table, and started there. One by one Eskkar worked through Trella’s suggestions and objections until they again reached the end of the table. At last Eskkar felt satisfied with what he would propose to his commanders.
“It’s the only way to win,” he said.
“Better to risk much to win everything,” Trella said. “The danger is great, but no worse than staying here. It’s the only way to end this war.”
“And the map,” he added. “The plan could not be done without it.”
“Speed will be your only ally.”
“Then it’s time to tell Gatus and the others. My thanks to you, Ismenne.”
With the decision came a certain peace of mind. The last few days had taxed even his strength. Tonight, Eskkar knew he would sleep well for the first time since word of the fall of Kanesh reached Akkad.
He left the Map Room and descended to the courtyard. The sun had passed mid-afternoon. Eskkar hadn’t realized how much time he’d spent talking to Trella. He found Grond waiting for him, feet up on the table, dozing in the shade of the house. His bodyguard had learned to sleep when and where he could.
“Wake up, Grond. Dispatch runners to the commanders. Tell them I want them all here tonight for a meeting in the Map Room. Then get your sword. I need to feel the weight of a blade in my hand.”
“Yes, Captain.” Grond’s feet hit the ground, and a broad smile covered his face. “It’s about time we got down to business.”
Eskkar spent the remainder of the afternoon practicing his swordplay against Grond, first with wooden swords, then beating two training poles into splinters with his bronze blade. When they had finished, Eskkar felt satisfied and glad to have accomplished something, if only a good sword-practice session. He washed up at the well and returned to the workroom, just as the commanders began to arrive.
All of the senior men were there: Gatus, Yavtar, Bantor, Hathor, Mitrac, Klexor, Drakis, Alexar and even Shappa, the commander of the slingers. Hathor had arrived two days ago, with the last of the cavalry. The remaining spearmen and archers had reached Akkad only that morning. Yavtar’s boats and fighting crews waited at Rebba’s farm, trying to stay out of sight of Shulgi’s spies.
Trella, Annok-sur and Ismenne completed the group. Ismenne closed the door when the last man filed through. They took their positions behind the map. They knew what faced them. The decisions they would make this day would seal the fate of Akkad, for good or evil.
“They’re digging in at Kane
sh.” Gatus started the session, rapping one of the wooden pointer’s on the table for emphasis. “The last of Shulgi’s infantry arrived, along with a huge supply caravan. A few more days’ work fortifying Kanesh, and we’ll never retake it. It will be a secure base for all of Shulgi’s forces.”
“The Sumerians still have to come to Akkad,” Alexar said. “We’ll meet them halfway and attack. We know the ground, and can pick a favorable site for our spearmen.”
“If we’re defeated, we’ll have no other course of action but to hold out in Akkad,” Bantor argued. “We might as well just wait for them here. We’re still getting all the supplies we need from the north.”
“Enough.” The single word brought everyone’s attention to Eskkar. “We have been over all this before. No need to repeat it again.” He stationed himself midway down the table, with Larsa within easy reach.
“Our situation is grave,” Eskkar began without preamble. “Shulgi has moved with caution, and has left us with few options. We can either stay within the walls, or march down to Kanesh and fight. If we fight him there, we’ll be outnumbered four or five to one. With the outpost under his control, he can take a defensive position and wait for us to attack. By the time we get to Kanesh, Shulgi will have fortified it against any assault, even assuming we can cut through his army to reach it.”
Eskkar took a sip from his water cup, and let his eyes touch each of his commanders. He could see it on their faces. No matter how willing to fight, their grim demeanors already hinted at eventual defeat.
He went on, softening his voice as if speaking about the weather. “If we stay here, in the next few days — ten or fifteen at most — Shulgi will begin moving north, taking his time and protecting his rear. In a month or so he’ll trap us inside Akkad, cut the river supply lines, strengthen his position surrounding us, and starve us into submission. Two or three months after that, our food will run out, while he’ll feed his men with Akkad’s grain, taken from our croplands.”
No one said anything. As Eskkar said, they had been over this before.
“So I propose to carry the fight to him. Tomorrow we’ll begin the march south. We’ll leave behind just enough force for Bantor to hold the city.”
“That’s what Shulgi expects us to do,” Gatus countered. “He’ll be waiting…”
“I’m going with you,” Bantor said. “I’m not staying behind.”
“You have to stay.” Eskkar made his words final. “You’ve been preparing the city’s defenses for two years. You know better than anyone how to hold this place. Every man within Akkad knows and trusts you. It’s likely that you’ll end up facing the full force of Sumer’s attack. No one in this room can defend the city better.”
“After you’ve been defeated at Kanesh!” Bantor couldn’t conceal his anger.
“I don’t intend to be defeated at Kanesh,” Eskkar said. “In fact, I don’t intend to fight at all, at least not yet, and certainly not at Kanesh.”
They stared at him, some smiling for the first time, others surprised at the hint of a new strategy.
Gatus laughed, his coarse guffaw breaking the tension. “So you’ve come up with some new hare-brained idea to get us all killed. I’ve been expecting some strange barbarian tactic to pop out of your mouth.”
“It’s dangerous enough, Gatus,” Eskkar said, “but you’re the one who made it possible. So if anything goes wrong, it will be as much your fault as mine. Now, do you want to complain or would you rather hear what I’ve got to say?”
He went through the plan for the second time that day, explaining every task he expected to complete, and the role each of them would play. Eskkar plotted each day’s position on the map, laid out his forces and their objectives. He spoke slowly, covering every essential point. Men, horses, boats, supplies, weapons, Eskkar explained how he intended to use each of them. Slowly, his commanders began to nod their heads in agreement.
Nevertheless, every one of them had a half dozen objections and as many suggestions. Eskkar answered them all, one by one, and in as much detail as he could. Then Gatus started answering the questions, followed by Hathor. By then, Eskkar could lean against the Map Room wall and watch. He turned to Trella and saw the slight movement of her eyes that meant approval. Eskkar’s commanders had accepted his plan, and soon they would make it their own.
Gatus had the last question, and he directed it not at Eskkar, but Trella. “And you think this can work? Ismenne agrees with this? Annoksur?”
“We see no other way to win, Gatus,” Trella answered. “Every other course of action merely delays our defeat. Eskkar’s plan is not something Shulgi will expect. It is dangerous, to be sure, but no more dangerous than remaining inside Akkad and waiting for the end. And we’ll be on the offensive.”
Gatus snorted. “Offensive, is that what you’re calling it? Well, I always said your husband would get us all killed one of these days. I just never expected anything like this. Still, I do like it better than hiding behind Akkad’s walls and waiting. Doing that once was enough.” He glanced around the table. “When do we march?”
“Tomorrow.” Eskkar glanced up at the narrow windows, and saw only grayness. Dusk had fallen. “You’ve got the rest of the night to prepare your men, all of you.”
T he next morning, just before dawn, Eskkar rode out of the Compound, Grond at his side. Twenty picked warriors from the Hawk Clan waited in the lane outside, his personal guard. Ten rode in advance, and ten followed close behind Eskkar’s horse. The horsemen kept their eyes moving and their hands on their swords. War had come to Akkad, and treachery could strike at any moment and from any direction. The city always held a good number of strangers, and even Annok-sur’s army of women couldn’t watch all of them all the time. A single arrow shot from a rooftop could bring down even Eskkar.
But the lanes of Akkad remained almost empty of life, and the few sleepy tradesmen who happened to be up and about shrank in fear against the nearest wall or ducked back into the first doorway they could reach as the grim riders trotted by. Eskkar’s guards never slowed, and they soon reached the city’s main gate, which creaked open just in time to let the king and his guards ride through without breaking the pace.
They followed the well-packed dirt of the road until it forked, then took the southern route toward the first assembly point, about six miles away. In the last few days, Eskkar’s commanders had assembled the army in four such camps, each a few miles apart. With such a large number of soldiers under arms, Eskkar didn’t want the men wandering loose in Akkad, with its numerous temptations for women, wine and gambling. Not to mention any possible spies from Sumer, or even traders who might talk too much about what they’d seen or heard. And so the men had said their farewells days ago, and now waited for the order to march.
Eskkar had said his goodbye to Trella last night, when they held each other tight. They had never endured a parting such as this. Often enough, Eskkar had ridden off to do battle, but this time he went to wage war on the land of Sumeria, and for this conflict there would be many battles to be fought. Both of them knew that this might be the last time they could cling to each other. Even Eskkar’s final words had acknowledged the risk. “Watch over Sargon, our son. Train him well.”
A poor choice of words, Eskkar decided in the light of dawn, almost as if he expected to fall in battle. He felt no such premonitions, no hint from the gods that this time his luck might desert him, but only a fool tempted fate with such words. The one sensation he experienced was relief. More than two years of preparation had created a well-trained and superbly equipped army. Now would come the true test of all that time and training. The sooner he closed with Shulgi’s invaders, the quicker the war would end.
At the first camp Hathor waited with three hundred horsemen mounted and ready to ride. In addition to their weapons, each man carried a water skin and a sack bulging with food. Twenty pack animals brought up the rear, each burdened with a cooking pot and as much bread and grain as it could carry. No fires burned
, and only a few women and boys stood watching in silence, many with tears streaming down their faces, as their menfolk rode off to war. Eskkar and his guards fell in beside the Egyptian, who gave the command that started the entire force moving in a double column.
“Any problems?” The two leaders rode close together, feet almost touching as they cantered along at an easy pace.
“None, Captain. Not even a horse going lame. The men are eager to ride.”
“Let’s hope they feel that when they see Razrek’s cavalry.”
Hathor laughed. “One battle at a time, isn’t that what you keep saying?”
This time it was Eskkar who laughed. “My father used to say, don’t count the number of your enemies, just kill the man in front of you.”
“Your father must have been a great and wise warrior.”
“He was.”
Something in Eskkar’s words told Hathor not to pursue the subject. Not many knew about Eskkar’s early years and his wanderings before coming to Akkad. He preferred to keep that part of his life a well-guarded secret.
They reached the second camp without speaking further. Klexor pulled himself onto his horse as they approached, and swung in beside Eskkar and Hathor, who slowed their pace but didn’t halt the men. “Good morning, Captain. My men are ready to ride.”
“Well done, Klexor.” Eskkar reached out and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder.
As the original column rode past, Klexor’s five hundred and thirty riders fell into place behind them. By the time they gathered in the scouts on patrol and the Ur Nammu riders, there would be close to eight hundred and fifty horsemen.