Conflict of Empires (2010) (34 page)

“When will this great battle be fought, my bloodthirsty queen?”

She smiled at the compliment. “In twenty-two months. The crops will be in, the soldiers trained, the weapons delivered, and our people ready. And that will be the best time for the Alur Meriki to strike. If we wait longer than that, the Akkadians will have gathered enough men to march on Sumer.”

“Is that enough time?” The breadth of her plan stunned him, but the
thought of commanding twenty thousand men in a battle … he would be remembered for a thousand years. With that many men, he would rule all of Mesopotamia, and possibly even the lands beyond. It would truly be an empire worthy of Sumer, and of himself.

“It will have to be,” Shanna said. “Meanwhile, you must do as Eskkar has done. Train with your soldiers, fight as many battles with the western raiders as you can, make your men have confidence in you and trust your judgment. If the soldiers in your army stand behind you, none of the other cities in Sumeria will dare to disobey your rule. And when the Akkadian soldiers learn of your skills, they will begin to doubt their own leader. They will remember that Eskkar is a barbarian, and that he grows old. When you meet him in battle, he will have at least thirty-five seasons, perhaps more. Too old to fight himself, too old to command his army.”

War, as everyone knew, was best left to the very young. Razrek had over thirty seasons, and he had grown soft of late.

“Twenty thousand men,” Shulgi mused. “With so many, I can rule the world.”

“With so many,
we
can rule the world. The empire of Sumeria will rule the land in every direction.”

“How long have you been planning all this?”

“Since our fool of a father decided he wanted to wage war against Akkad. I sat at his side at every meeting, every war council, every dinner with Razrek, while he planned his pathetic venture. I could have told him he would fail, but, of course, he would not have listened to me. So I used the time to make my own plans, to decide what you and I would do if Eridu were out of the way. I gave thanks to the gods when Eskkar defeated him. If Eridu had won … I still shudder at the thought.”

“With so many soldiers, we will not fail.”

“If you heed my words, my Lord Shulgi, we will not fail. Together we can build an empire, and I can help you rule it. In time, gold, slaves, the most beautiful women, everything in that empire will be yours.”

“Including you, my dear sister.”

“Including me, my dear brother.” She took a deep breath and leaned provocatively toward him. “Am I not worthy to be your queen?”

“More than worthy. Tomorrow I will tell the people that you are to be my bride, their queen.”

“Then, my lord and master, let me thank you again tonight for the honor you will bestow on me.”

T
en days after Eskkar’s march with the spearmen, he and Grond splashed their horses across the Tigris. Accompanied by Hathor and twenty horsemen, they departed the northern village of Bisitun and rode to the north-west. The trip had taken months to arrange. Sisuthros, who ruled Bisitun in Akkad’s name, had sent word through his traders that Lord Eskkar wished to meet with the leader of the Ur Nammu. But the clan of steppe warriors had migrated to the west, and it took endless days of often aimless and always dangerous riding to make contact with them. At last a message arrived at Akkad that a time and place to meet had been arranged.

As soon as he received word, Eskkar had dispatched Hathor and a group of horsemen to Bisitun. Only after Hathor’s horsemen had departed Akkad did they learn their true destination. Meanwhile, Eskkar and Grond took passage on one of Yavtar’s ships, and reached Bisitun five days later, where they rejoined Hathor and his men.

After a single night in relative comfort in Bisitun, Eskkar resumed the journey to the north-west. All were mounted on good animals, and each day they covered plenty of ground. After three days of hard riding, they passed into the rugged and mostly empty land of rolling hills and rocky crags. Wild goats watched their progress from the heights, and hawks soared overhead, but they encountered few men. The dry soil made for poor farming, and the ever present danger from bandits or barbarians made the occasional inhabitants wary of strangers.

For Eskkar, the journey provided a chance to forget the troubles and
problems of Akkad, and enjoy the pleasure of traveling long distances by horse once again. The clear air, now with a hint of coolness, cleansed the smells of the crowded city from his body. And the trip provided time for Eskkar to grow close to his men, something he did at every opportunity.

“The more men know you,” Trella said to him many times, “the more loyal to your cause they will be.” So he took advantage of these days of riding with the soldiers. They spoke about weapons, horses, women, all the things fighting men had discussed and argued about since the dawn of time.

They remained alert for danger at all times. The land they traversed belonged to no one, though the Ur Nammu rode through these places often. Akkad had established a truce of sorts with the Ur Nammu, and both sides had managed to avoid conflict for over two years. They had fought together twice against the Alur Meriki, and after the final victory, Eskkar had established a small trading settlement north of Bisitun, to facilitate trade with the Ur Nammu.

Twice each year, traders from Akkad and Bisitun met with bands of Ur Nammu. The warriors had plenty of gold, usually taken from the dead bodies of their enemies, for which they had little use, and they needed the tools and higher-quality bronze weapons that the villagers could produce more efficiently. The trade benefited both the horse clan and the Akkadians. But Eskkar knew how fragile such agreements could be. A slur on some warrior’s honor, an insulting glance, a drunken brawl, any incident could trigger an outbreak of raiding and looting along Akkad’s northern border. And right now Eskkar needed an ally, not another problem to distract him from the enemy in the south.

On the afternoon of the third day, the Akkadians saw three riders watching them from a distant hilltop. Eskkar gave the order to halt. The horses could use a brief rest, and the lack of movement, either to attack or flee, evidenced the newcomer’s peaceful intentions.

“Is that them?” Hathor, like most of the horsemen riding with Eskkar, had never encountered any of the steppe warriors before.

“Could be,” Eskkar said, “could be anyone.” He turned to their guide, a leader of ten from Bisitun named Meskalum. “How close are we to the meeting ground?”

Meskalum moved his horse forward to join the leaders. “Not far now, captain. We should be there by sundown.”

Eskkar made the calculation. About ten or twelve more miles, if the
guide didn’t miss a landmark and get lost. Even after all these years, he still disliked following someone else’s lead. But he had no choice. No man could master every trail and landmark in such a vast land. “Then it’s not likely there would be any other bands of warriors nearby. Break out the standard.”

Grond pulled the yellow streamer, as long as a man was tall, from his sack. Meskalum fastened it to the tip of his bow. The wind lifted the cloth and sent it billowing.

“Everyone keep your eyes open,” Eskkar said. “It’s an old barbarian trick to keep your attention on one band while another slips up on you from behind. Meskalum, take the point.”

With the guide out front, Eskkar set the pace at an easy canter. He didn’t want to tire the horses, since one never knew if they would be needed to run or fight. And whether they reached the agreed upon place by sundown or not didn’t matter. Meetings like this, arranged so long in advance and through so many intermediaries over great distances, could never be exact as to time. Five, even ten days early or late would be considered normal.

The riders continued the journey and, after a time, the horsemen on the hillside matched their pace and direction. As the sun descended, the two groups of riders began to converge.

“Looks like they know where we’re headed,” Grond observed. He’d fought against men such as these twice before, and had a healthy respect for their fighting skills.

“Let’s hope they’re not getting ready to ambush us,” Hathor said. “All this empty land – no villages or farms – makes me nervous.”

Everyone remained alert, and Eskkar stopped twice more, to study the land and the obvious ambush sites. A little before sundown they topped a hill and saw a meandering stream, bordered with willow trees. Beneath their shade, a thick belt of grass grew down to the water’s edge. Two tents marked a campsite, and the blackened remains of a fire pit showed even from the top of the hill. A small herd of horses, penned in by a rope corral and guarded by a mounted rider, gave Eskkar a quick count of the warriors. He halted the troop once again while he examined the terrain ahead.

“Twenty, maybe,” Grond said, coming to the same conclusion. “Maybe twenty-five, counting the three behind us.”

By then the Akkadians had been spotted by the warriors in the camp.
Within moments, a yellow standard fastened to a lance waved at them.

Eskkar grunted in relief. “That’s the Ur Nammu. My thanks to you, Meskalum.” Whether the guide knew the land as well as he claimed, or had just gotten lucky, he deserved a word of praise in front of his companions.

They cantered down the hill. The three warriors behind them swung wide around the Akkadians, and raced recklessly toward the camp, their horses flinging clods of dirt high into the air, shouts floating across the land as they urged on their mounts.

Eskkar smiled at the display of horsemanship. In his youth he might have attempted such a ride, but no longer. A rider needed to be astride his mount ten hours a day for years to master that kind of riding. As the Akkadians drew near, a warrior separated from the group and walked toward them. When they approached within fifty paces, Eskkar swung down from his horse.

“Wait here a moment,” he said, then moved toward the approaching warrior.

“Greetings, Subutai, chief of the Ur Nammu.”

“Welcome to our camp, Eskkar of Akkad.”

The two men clasped arms in the way of the warrior, then paced side by side back to the camp. Eskkar waved his men forward. Subutai had marked a place for them about two hundred paces from the tents. The Akkadians would have easy access to the river without getting too close to his own camp.

Eskkar and his men tended to their horses first, making sure the animals were watered in the stream, and the Akkadians used the one rope they had brought with them to make a rough corral of their own, winding the cord around two willow trees and a bush. Not much more was needed to keep the mounts penned in. With plenty of water and grass to eat, they weren’t likely to stray.

With the horses taken care of, Eskkar washed his hands and face in the stream, another gesture of politeness. To meet with a clan chief was a serious matter, and it would not do to appear covered with sweat and dirt. Eskkar drank his fill from the stream, but shook his head at Hathor’s offer of a drink from one of the two wineskins they’d brought with them.

“You’ll come with me, Hathor. By custom, each clan leader brings one subcommander with him, so that there may be no misunderstanding or forgetting of what is said.”

They strode across the grass to the Ur Nammu campsite, where Subutai and another warrior waited for them. Subutai led the way upstream to a small patch of grass a hundred paces from the river. The two leaders sat facing each other. Unlike villagers, who might talk half a day before getting down to business, barbarians preferred to take care of serious matters first.

Meanwhile, warriors from both sides watched the proceedings with interest. The two Ur Nammu warriors eyed Hathor with curiosity. Probably neither had ever seen someone from the land of Egypt.

Eskkar introduced the Egyptian as his subcommander, then faced Subutai’s commander.

“It’s good to see you again, Fashod,” Eskkar said, nodding at Subutai’s second in command. “Have your men been in camp here long?”

Fashod, caught by surprise, couldn’t prevent a smile from crossing his face. “Only three days, Lord Eskkar. And I am honored that you remember me at all.”

“I always try to remember brave men who have fought at my side,” Eskkar said. In truth, he had to strain his wits to recall the man’s name when he first saw him. Two years was a long time, despite Trella’s constant admonition to try and memorize every man’s face and name.

Eskkar explained that Hathor didn’t speak the language of the steppes. That proved to be no problem, as Subutai and Fashod both spoke the language of the dirt-eaters well enough.

“Your wits remain quick, Eskkar,” Subutai said, nodding in satisfaction. A compliment to one of his men reflected on him as well. “Your mighty city grows stronger each day, and even in the far north we hear of Akkad’s power.”

“You have grown in strength, Subutai.” The last time Eskkar had seen the warrior he’d been thin and undernourished. Now firm muscle covered his frame, the result of long hours on the back of a horse and plenty of meat in his diet. “And I hear your people have increased as well.”

“We are much stronger, Eskkar. Now there are almost two hundred warriors under my standard. In another ten years, we’ll be almost as strong as we were in the past.” He smiled at the prospect. “The Ur Nammu clan has grown as well. After the fighting ended, there were many women without husbands or fathers abandoned in these lands, and these have sought our protection. Now there are many children playing around the campfires.”