by Sam Barone
Stepping out of Ramal-sul’s front doorway a few moments later, Luroc found Bantor and two guards waiting there. The Sumerian’s sword rested in its scabbard. The soldiers looked competent, and Bantor was known to be a powerful fighter.
“No need to worry, Luroc,” Bantor said. “Walk beside me, as two old friends would do.”
Together they walked the lanes of Akkad, crossing half the city before they reached Eskkar’s house. At Bantor’s approach, the guards opened the gate and the little group passed inside.
Annok-sur waited just outside the entrance to the house. “Please give Bantor your sword, Luroc. Only the Hawk Clan is permitted to carry weapons in Lady Trella’s presence.
For a moment, Bantor thought the man would try something stupid. But Luroc kept control of his emotions. He reached for his blade, and Bantor’s two men moved in closer, just in case Luroc decide to start hacking at everyone. Using his fingers, he drew the sword from its scabbard and handed it to Bantor.
Annok-sur led Luroc into the house and up the stairs, to where Trella waited for them at the big table in the workroom. Another guard stood beside her, in case the Sumerian decided to leap across the table. Bantor remained just behind their guest.
“Please sit down, Luroc,” Lady Trella began. “I imagine you could use some wine. Or ale if you prefer.”
Annok-sur moved around the table to stand beside Trella. Annok-sur reached down and filled a cup with watered wine, which she handed to Luroc.
The man took it with both hands, as he slid into the seat across the wide table. By now the shock of his capture had started to sink in, and he looked like a man who knew he would soon be dead.
“As Bantor may have told you,” Trella said, “we know of your plot to help the barbarians slip into the city. Since that will not succeed, you may want to consider another option. How much gold did King Shulgi promise you?”
Lady Trella’s pleasant voice contrasted sharply with the harder tones of Queen Kushanna. Nevertheless, both women expected to be obeyed when they spoke.
“Twenty gold coins to prepare the men.” He took another gulp from the wine cup. “Fifty more if the attack succeeded.”
“The king of Sumeria is generous, but I am willing to exceed that price. I will give you safe passage to one of the northern cities and seventy-five Akkadian gold coins if you are willing to help us. With that much gold, you should be able to find a place of safety far from this war.”
Luroc’s eyes widened at the sum, and he decided the wild stories of Akkad’s gold mine at Nuzi were true. With that much gold, he would never need to work again. “How can I help you?”
“By making sure the barbarians enter the city, of course. The city’s guard is even now collecting your men. They’ll be sentenced to the labor gangs for the rest of their lives. Bantor’s men will replace them and you will be on the wall at Tanner’s Lane tonight to bring the barbarians into the city.”
“You want the barbarians to cross over your walls?”
“Yes. Our men will be waiting for them, of course.”
“They’ll capture your city. Even if they don’t, they’ll kill so many of your soldiers you won’t be able to resist Shulgi’s army when it gets here.”
“Perhaps. But that will not concern you. You will have your gold and be on a boat going north. Unless you prefer the alternative.”
Luroc glanced behind him. Bantor still stood there, but now his right hand rested on the hilt of his sword. The guard standing just beside Lady Trella had not taken his eyes off Luroc for a moment.
Luroc wet his lips, then realized he still held the wine cup. Another mouthful seemed to ease his choice.
“How do I know you will keep your part of the bargain?”
“The word of Lady Trella has never been broken,” Annok-sur said. “If you do as we ask, you will not be harmed. You and the gold will be free to leave at sunup. Several boats will be departing to the north. Or you can even return to Sumeria, if you wish.”
Returning to Queen Kushanna’s presence without the destruction of Akkad to report didn’t appeal to Luroc.
Trella gave him a moment to work things through. Then she nodded. “I give you my word you will not be harmed.”
Luroc drained the wine cup, and pushed it toward the center of the table. Like any good gambler, he knew when he was beaten. “I don’t think I’ll be going back to Sumer. What do you want me to do?”
T he long day had finally given way to dusk, then darkness. Since Luroc decided to change his allegiance, if indeed the mercenary ever had any, Trella had remained with Bantor most of the day. She and Annok-sur questioned the spy at length, obtaining the names of all his men, and ascertaining that no other Sumerian agents remained in Akkad. Bantor had dispatched Wakannh, who had been present at last night’s meeting, to gather up all eight Sumerians, and they now languished in a single room at the barracks, guarded by a dozen men.
Trella insisted that Bantor go over every part of the plan. She knew the way her husband’s mind worked, and she’d watched him in enough planning sessions over the last five years to know how he would proceed. Every step, every part, had to be discussed, responsibility assigned, every commander and his second in command had to fully grasp and understand the role he would play.
The carpenters had to be summoned and given their instructions. The rest of the city had to remain guarded as well throughout the night, as the barbarians might have more than one plot. No soldiers would be sleeping tonight. Those not involved at Tanner’s Lane would be manning Akkad’s walls, alert for any attack.
At the barracks, behind its closed gates, the soldiers prepared torches and poles, readied shields and spears, while archers tested their bows and changed to new bowstrings. The handful of spearmen remaining in the city prepared themselves for this new way of fighting. Even food and water had to be readied, to make sure that no one lacked for anything.
All this needed to be accomplished before sundown. Tonight, Trella wanted everything in Akkad to appear as normal as the night before. Only when the city lay cloaked in darkness were the men and equipment quietly assembled, brought together in small groups, and taken to their stations.
The waiting began. Trella leaned against a wall a hundred paces from Tanner’s Lane. Annok-sur had wanted her to remain in the Compound, but Trella insisted on being there. Bantor protested as well, but gave way when he saw her determination.
“I must be there,” she said. “I know how Eskkar would think and act. Tonight you will think of me as you would of him.”
“But if it fails, you may be in danger.”
“If I am sending men to fight and die, then they need to see me there, standing beside them. Would Eskkar do any less?”
No amount of words changed her mind. Before midnight, she arrived at Tanner’s Lane, accompanied by her four Hawk Clan guards. She wore the short sword Eskkar had given her belted around her waist. He had taught her how to use it after Korthac’s defeat.
Near one of the watch fires, Bantor and Luroc waited together for her arrival. Even in the flickering light, she saw the worry on Bantor’s face.
“The men are ready, Lady Trella.” At least Bantor knew better than to argue with her in front of the Sumerian.
“Nothing was said about me being tied to a rope.” Luroc’s words, though spoken just above a whisper, sounded bitter.
Luroc had been forced to remove his tunic, and a slim but stout rope was fastened around his waist, then fed out through a hole cut in the back of the garment. Wakannh had the other end of the rope fastened around his body.
“That’s just in case you decide to slip over the wall and rejoin your companions,” Trella said. “Though they’d probably kill you anyway at the first alarm.” She had been the one who suggested the rope to Bantor. “Wakannh will stand next to you at all times, as if one of your trusted men. If you try to escape, or give us away, you’ll find yourself hanging over the fire pit in the morning.”
“I’ll keep my end of th
e bargain.”
“Then all will be well for both of us,” she answered.
The waiting began. The moon still climbed upward in the heavens, slower than it usually did, it seemed to those watching. But at last the moon reached its zenith.
“Clear the wall,” Bantor ordered in a low voice. One by one, the sentries on the wall ducked below the wall, then dropped to the ground below or moved rapidly but silently down the parapet’s steps. The barbarians, if indeed they were out there, would have been waiting for the guards to be taken out.
Luroc, with Wakannh at his side, moved to the top of the wall, now empty of sentries. Luroc leaned over and waved a bit of white cloth.
Neither man could see much, but then Luroc stiffened. Wakannh saw them, too, and his hand tightened on the rope.
The ground beyond the ditch seemed to be alive, like a field covered with locusts, as crouched men moved quickly and silently over the empty ground. In moments, a wave of men dropped down into the ditch. Bent low, they raced to the base of the wall. It took only moments to locate the two ropes Bantor’s men had thrown over the edge.
The ropes tightened as men started the climb. Ladders bumped softly against the wall as well. Then a figure swung up over the top, glanced around, and saw the two men standing there. The whites of the barbarian’s eyes shone in the moonlight. He swung over the wall, his hand on his sword.
“Wait!” Luroc whispered just loud enough to be heard. “I’m Luroc. The way is clear.”
Without waiting for a reply, Luroc turned away, and he and Wakannh moved to the steps and raced down the steps. They disappeared into the shadows at the entrance to the lane.
Bantor waited for them there. He could hear the small sounds of bodies scraping and slipping over the wall. Soon he saw the barbarians, their number swelling, readying weapons.
From the shadows a few steps away, Trella watched the parapet fill with the enemy. More and more kept coming, helped up and over by their companions. She heard the faint rasp of swords being drawn from scabbards, and noted the silhouette of one or two bows.
Behind her the soldiers shifted, their breathing coming faster as they tensed up for the coming struggle. But their small sounds were masked by those on the wall. In the faint moonlight, Trella saw that everyone had moved to their assigned places. At last she heard the sound of wood scraping against wood as the barricades moved into position, blocking off the parapet. If the barbarians detected them, they made no outcry.
“It’s time.” Bantor’s whisper sounded harsh.
Trella moved silently across the open space at the end of the lane. Behind her the soldiers formed up in silence. Looking up, she saw the wall now swarmed with men. Some began to drop down off the parapet, others found the steps and ran down, and still more heads and shoulders crawled over the wall into the city.
Wakannh’s voice boomed out over the lane. “Hoist the torches!”
The Alur Meriki froze in place as the first torch flared into being and was pushed out over the lane from the rooftop. Every eye watched as the long pole extended its flaming contents over the intruders, joined quickly by another and another, until five torches sputtered and blazed on each side of the open space and the barbarians could see the line of bowmen facing them, with another line of spearmen kneeling just in front of them, lances extended upwards. The Alur Meriki had time for that one glance.
“Loose!” Bantor’s voiced echoed off the walls. For a brief moment the barbarians didn’t move, not until the first wave of forty arrows crashed into their midst.
Warriors dropped like stones, screaming in pain as the arrows struck them. But the arrow storm unleashed the fury of men who suddenly realized they’d been lured into a trap. In the torchlight they could clearly see that every house and stall in the lane was boarded up, giving them no place to go but into the arrows ahead of them.
Bantor drew his sword. The leader of the bowmen continued to call the cadence and another flight of arrows, aimed low, struck at the invaders. Those barbarians still standing rushed forward, screaming their war cries as they charged at the forty men in front of them. Other Alur Meriki reinforcements continued to climb over the wall, eager to join the fighting and as yet unaware of what was happening.
Bantor’s third wave of shafts included shafts from other archers on the rooftops, as bowmen climbed into position and added their own arrows to the carnage below them. The barbarians had only to cover about thirty paces to come to grips with their opponents, but the shafts flew again, and this time the charge broke.
The warriors had brought few bows of their own, certain that swords would be the most useful weapon once inside the walls. Instead they found themselves attacked by bowmen under the blaze of torches that lit the scene all too clearly.
Some tried to tear down the boards that blocked entry to the houses but the archers on the opposite roof turned their arrows on them. Others tried to move along the parapet, but the heavy wooden barricades, positioned to extend out over the parapet’s edge, blocked that path, too. Behind those barricades stood villagers and soldiers with spears, who thrust at every head or hand that tried to climb over or swing around them. A few Alur Meriki managed to leap up and grasp two of the torches and dash them out, but it made no difference. Even two or three torches would have provided enough light for the archers.
Suddenly, the Alur Meriki began moving back, jamming the steps or pulling themselves up to the parapet, with no other thought in their minds but to get back over the wall. The archers’ shafts continued to find them. Bantor shouted another order and the bowmen moved slowly forward, shooting together under command, shooting again and again until they reached the base of the parapet. By then nothing moved, not even the wounded at their feet, who died from a quick spear thrust. Shouting continued from the walls, as archers kept shooting at the surviving barbarians as they fled back across the ditch.
Bantor bellowed out a command to secure the wall, and soldiers began clearing the dead off the steps and parapet. Trella knew the fight here had finished. She turned to find Annok-sur at her side, a short sword gleaming in the torchlight.
A cheer went up from the men, the volume increasing until everyone had joined in, shouts of victory mixed with laughter at the barbarians, who had carefully planned their assault yet still stumbled into a deadly trap. Trella found herself surrounded by gleeful soldiers and villagers, as she turned away from the carnage and headed back to the Compound.
“That should send them running back to their clan,” Annok-sur said. “It looks like we’ve killed more than half of them, I’m sure.”
“The cavalry from Bisitun will hunt down any stragglers in the morning,” Trella agreed. “I think those who escape will have little inclination to raid our lands.”
“You planned this as well as Eskkar.”
“Let’s hope he has as much good fortune in the south. Send word in the morning. It will be one less worry for Eskkar.”
“And what should I do with Luroc?”
“Pay him and let him go,” Trella said. “He’s not likely to trouble us again. Besides, once word of this gets out, the Sumerians will think he betrayed them.”
Annok-sur put her arm around Trella’s shoulders. “Let’s hope the Sumerians fare as badly against your husband as these barbarians.”
Trella’s satisfaction at the victory lessened at the thought of her husband’s danger. “Tell Yavtar’s men to get word to Eskkar as soon as possible. The last thing he needs is to be worrying about Akkad.”
46
Day 2
The soldiers plodded through the heat. Every strap rubbed the skin raw, and many men had taken off their sandals, to insure that they didn’t wear out and to save them for combat. The sun grew hotter as they moved south, especially to men unaccustomed to it. The Sumerians had that advantage. Most of them were born and raised in the dry lands, and could withstand the sun and wind better than the men from the north. The soldiers wiped the sweat from their eyes and kept walking, though at eve
ry stop to rest men drank as much water as they could hold. Fortunately they splashed across several of the numerous streams that eventually found their way into the great sea.
The Sumerians kept horsemen at their rear and flanks, but only small bands, to keep track of where the Akkadians marched. So far, the enemy hadn’t tried to launch any attacks. Just before midday, while the men were resting, one of the guards called out.
“Riders to the rear!”
Eskkar swung up on his mount to get a better look. In moments, the land behind him began to fill with horses. The large band of Sumerian cavalry that had followed them yesterday was coming closer, but not, as Eskkar realized, coming straight at them. They would pass the Akkadians on their left. These men were not Tanukhs, but they rode easy in their mounts, and Eskkar had to admire their training. These horsemen might be the pick of Sumeria’s horse fighters.
“They’re passing us.” Grond shaded his eyes with his hand. “Probably headed to Larsa.”
As the enemy came abreast of the Akkadians, Gatus gave the order that got the men back on their feet and into marching position. “Stop gawking at that scum! You’d think you never saw a horse before!”
Enemy horsemen or not, Gatus got the men moving. He wanted to make camp tonight where they planned, and he was determined that his spearmen would lead the way, even if they collapsed when they reached the destination.
“They’re going to Larsa, all right,” Eskkar said. “They’ll be waiting for us when we get there.”
Gatus came over to join them. “Think they’ll try anything?”
“Not this bunch,” Eskkar said. “I’ll bet that Razrek is leading them. He’ll be glad to take some comfort in Larsa for a few days.”
“Then the people of Larsa may be happy to see us when we arrive,” Gatus said, not entirely in jest. “Razrek with that many men accompanying him will be a demanding guest.”
Eskkar grunted in agreement. A large force of men and horses might not be too welcome in Larsa. They would eat and drink and chase the city’s women, and if all the tales told about Razrek were true, his men would pay not a copper coin to the city’s inhabitants.