by Sam Barone
The third camp stood ready when they arrived. Gatus, wearing a wide-brimmed reed hat to shade his bald head from the sun, sat astride a gentle mare. At least for this campaign the old soldier had decided to admit his age. Gatus had promised his men that he would march and fight on foot beside them, but they had protested until he agreed to use the mare to keep pace with his men. Now he waited at the head of twenty-eight hundred spearmen.
Eskkar halted the horsemen, and waved toward Gatus, who ordered his men to move out, marching them four abreast and taking the lead. Except for those riding patrols around the main force, the horsemen would follow in their path, leaving the way free of horse droppings for the foot soldiers.
The bowmen, slingers, and the remaining men waited at the fourth camp. Eskkar could see a few of them still taking target practice as his men approached. When they saw Eskkar approaching at the head of the army, Alexar and Mitrac summoned their men back into ranks, and they fell in behind Gatus and his spearmen.
The city of Akkad was going to war, with a mighty army larger than anything Eskkar had ever imagined. Counting everyone, the army numbered just over five thousand, an incredible number of fighting men. He knew they were good men. Many had trained for this day for over two years, and even the least experienced man among them had at least six months to learn his trade. Those with less experience remained in Akkad, to continue their training and defend the city’s walls under Bantor’s command.
Eskkar’s most loyal commander, Bantor had protested his assignment most of the night. Finally Gatus ended the argument. “We’re leaving our women and children in your care, because you’re the best man to protect them. So follow your orders and stop complaining just because you can’t go off and get killed with the rest of us.”
Eskkar had smiled at that. In reality, he had wanted to leave Gatus behind as well, but he knew all the spearmen would fight better under Gatus’s eye. Besides, he would never have obeyed such an order.
As they marched south, Eskkar studied the men. The soldiers’ training had been arduous, even brutal at times, but as Eskkar and every barbarian knew from childhood, you trained long and hard so that the actual fighting would be easy. Not easy, but at least something familiar to each man. He had to remind himself that more than half of these men had never raised a weapon in anger. For many of them, real battle would be something new and frightening, something beyond anything they’d ever dreamed of.
Fortunately, the Sumerian soldiers were much the same, at least as far as battle experience. But what the Sumerians lacked in experience, they made up in numbers. Trella’s spies had come up with all kinds of numbers, but they all agreed on one thing — at least fifteen thousand men were under arms, controlled by King Shulgi. Other estimates had placed the number of Akkadian enemies at as much as twenty-five thousand, a number so vast that Eskkar had trouble grasping it.
Six cities, plus the half-barbarian scum that lived and raided along the western desert now served under Shulgi’s banner. The Sumerian king might be little more than a boy, but somehow in two short years he had assembled and trained the largest army the world had ever seen, and now he intended to use it against Akkad.
Eskkar understood what risks lay ahead of him. If he faced Shulgi in battle and were defeated, it might mean the end of Akkad. Even if Eskkar and part of his army survived and managed to retreat behind Akkad’s walls, such a huge enemy force could take its time and starve the city until it surrendered. And these new besiegers would not repeat the mistakes of the Alur Meriki. The Sumerians would establish their resupply lines and take their time, until the city was ripe for the taking. Eskkar frowned at the thought. The idea of someone other than himself and Trella ruling Akkad’s people and lands was unbearable.
“Worried about something, Captain?”
Hathor’s words brought Eskkar back to the present. He straightened up, and pushed the dark thoughts from his mind. “Just thinking about what’s ahead of us.”
“Shulgi has raised a powerful force, but our men are better trained. And he’s young, and lacks experience. As long as — ”
“As long as we don’t fight him on his terms.” Eskkar laughed. “Well, let’s hope our plan for that works.”
“It will, Captain. It will.”
41
The army of Akkad marched south at an easy pace. They stayed close to the Tigris, both for access to fresh water, and to be resupplied by Yavtar’s boats. For the last two years, while Eskkar worked and trained with his commanders, Yavtar and Trella had planned ways to supply the army. In preparation, they established eight temporary docks and way stations between Akkad and the border outpost of Kanesh. As soon as the army commenced moving south a steady stream of boats loaded up their cargo and pushed away from Akkad’s jetties. Trella’s supply clerks, many of them women, had planned each march of the campaign and knew what particular supplies would be needed at every step.
Those cargoes would make sure Eskkar’s forces traveled light and fast. The army would stop briefly at each way station on their journey south, and Yavtar’s fleet of boats would bring grain for the horses and fresh bread for the soldiers. Eskkar knew that Trella would keep the cooking ovens in Akkad burning from dawn until well into the night, and that supplies and even a few extra men would be ready for him at every stage of his march.
Shulgi’s army also relied on the river for food and supplies, but if Trella’s spies knew their business, the Sumerians had less than fifty boats working the river. Yavtar, meanwhile, commanded over sixty supply vessels, plus ten ships fitted specifically for battle. Each warship carried at least sixteen to twenty archers in addition to the regular crew of sailors and rowers. These ships would provide protection for the supply ships.
The Sumerians had captured the trading post at Kanesh, established two years ago to facilitate trade between Akkad and the Sumerian cities. Located at the juncture of the Tigris and the Sippar, the post had little value, except as a place to store goods being shipped north or south, and to provide travelers and traders a safe place to meet and haggle over prices. Nevertheless, almost a hundred archers and swordsmen had been stationed there, and the villagers dwelling within had increased that number to well over three hundred.
Eskkar had hoped, when the inevitable war broke out, to either reinforce the outpost or get the soldiers guarding it out in time, but Kanesh had fallen in a single morning, cut off and taken by a heavy force of Tanukh horsemen before the first rumor of war arrived from the south. All the supplies awaiting shipment in Kanesh had been taken intact. The defenders, now all dead or enslaved, probably had no time even to destroy the goods.
Now all of Shulgi’s army had camped there, digging in and waiting for Eskkar to march south and meet them in battle. The idea of Sumerians enjoying Akkad’s supplies while they waited to crush his army rankled Eskkar more than he showed.
As the men marched, Eskkar rode up and down alongside the men, observing their faces, looking for signs of fear or doubt. After the first of these inspections, the soldiers stopped being nervous about his passage. They smiled or waved, showing no more concern for their fate than if they were on yet one more of Gatus’s strenuous training marches. Eskkar’s careful scrutiny of his men impressed all the leaders of ten, twenty, fifty and one hundred. The idea that the king of Akkad might find fault with some equipment, or even the careless handling of their weapons, made every man in the army conscious of their duty.
He did the same reviews — at least three or four per day — on the cavalry, archers, and especially the slingers. Their relative youthfulness made it hard for them to restrain their excitement. From their looks and gestures, they might have been rushing back to Akkad to fill the local taverns for a night of feasting.
Five days after departing Akkad, at mid-morning, Eskkar saw three riders returning at a gallop. The leader of the scouts raced down the column of soldiers until he reached Gatus and Eskkar, who recognized the man, Tarok, another veteran who had fought in the battle to recapture Akkad
from the Egyptian Korthac. Tarok pulled up and guided his horse alongside the Akkadian leaders.
“We saw the Sumerians.” Tarok couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “It’s a great force, spread out on the plain just north of Kanesh. Their cavalry drove us off.”
“How many?” Eskkar, surrounded by his commanders, waited to hear Tarok’s estimate.
“We saw at least two or three thousand horses,” Tarok said, his eyes wide with wonder at the number. “We didn’t have time to take a better count.”
Eskkar heard the murmur spread up and down the column at the news. “Well, then I’m glad you got away. No sense in fighting such a large force with just the three of you.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. “You’ve done well. Report to Hathor. Meanwhile, we’ll keep moving according to our plan.” Eskkar and his commanders had known of the size of the enemy’s cavalry. Tarok’s sighting merely confirmed it. “In a few hours we’ll reach the Tigris and obtain supplies from Yavtar’s boats.”
“They’ll be expecting us to do battle in the morning,” Gatus said. “They know we can’t just march down here and then turn back without a fight. Even more likely, the Sumerians will expect us to launch a surprise attack tonight.”
The easiest way for a smaller force to defeat a larger one was to attack at night, catching the enemy asleep and unprepared.
“We’ll give them a surprise all right,” Eskkar said, “but not the one they’re expecting. Push on to the river.”
The army continued its movement, turning slightly westward, to reach the Tigris before nightfall. About two miles north of Kanesh, they made camp along the river, and Gatus made certain that a strong force of pickets and skirmishers patrolled the land. By then Razrek’s scouts had drawn ever closer, ranging up and down the column, galloping every which way, and trying to entice their enemy into giving chase. The Akkadians kept a wary eye on their enemy, but otherwise ignored them. The soldiers might have grown nervous at the sight of the Sumerians, but they saw their commanders’ unconcern, and drew strength from that.
Before dusk fell, eight boats carrying supplies from Akkad slid ashore. Draelin, another of Yavtar’s leaders, splashed ashore even before the first boat ground its bottom against the riverbank. “Take me to Lord Eskkar,” he commanded.
Moments later, Draelin stood before Eskkar, Grond, Gatus, Hathor and the other commanders, all of them crowding around the messenger. “Lord, I bring word from Bantor. A large force of barbarians has been sighted to the east, riding hard. Bantor thinks they may not be Tanukhs, but Alur Meriki. They might be coming to strike at Akkad.”
Eskkar swore at the news, a grimace on his face. “How soon before they reach the city?”
“Another three or four days,” Draelin answered. “No more than that.”
“Any word on how many?”
Draelin shook his head. “Hundreds… a thousand… no one knows.”
“Well, if it’s Alur Meriki, they don’t have a thousand warriors,” Gatus said. “If they mustered every fighter that can sit on a horse, they might have half that number.”
Eskkar nodded. For almost five years he’d waited, knowing that some day, when the Alur Meriki had recovered their strength, they would return to Akkad to settle their blood debt. But Trella’s spies had not neglected the eastern lands where the Alur Meriki had gone, and he had a rough idea of the forces they could muster. “If they send a raiding party, even a large one, it won’t be more than two or three hundred men.”
“That’s not enough to take Akkad,” Gatus said. “Why would they risk provoking us, making us come after them, unless…”
“Unless they knew all our fighters had gone south to fight Sumeria.” Eskkar shook his head. “This is another of Shulgi’s plots. Demons take the boy king! He must have allied himself with the Alur Meriki, or at least warned them of his plans. So they decided this is the time to strike, to take their revenge.”
“Three or four hundred barbarians on horses aren’t going to scale Akkad’s new walls,” Gatus said. “Our men there can hold them off.”
Eskkar had left four hundred and fifty fighters in Akkad to defend the city, barely enough to guard the walls properly. Many of those left behind were considered to be too old or too young for a vigorous campaign in the south. The city’s inhabitants would have to join in the defense as well, and Bantor’s men had been training them too. Many had taken part in the defense of the city during the Alur Meriki siege, and would supplement the soldiers. And with so many people crowding into the city seeking safety, there should be more than enough to withstand any attacks, at least for the next few weeks.
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.