Conflict of Empires (2010) (54 page)

W
ith 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 to 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.

At this time of night, the broad lane leading to the compound should be free of soldiers and passersby. Tammuz felt his heart racing, and tried to restrain his nervousness while he anxiously peered down the lane. Kourosh should have been only a hundred paces behind, but perhaps he had lingered to talk to his men. Either that or he had decided to sleep in the barracks tonight …

A single shadow loomed up out of the darkness. Tammuz gave one last glance to the lane behind him, saw that it was empty. Taking a deep breath, he shuffled forward, taking short steps and limping a little. Kourosh’s long strides closed the gap between them in moments, and the soldier walked straight down the center of the lane.

Tammuz, still hobbling along, moved to his left, as if to yield the center to the approaching soldier. At the same time, he slipped the knife from its sheath and pressed its length down the back of his leg.

“Get out of the way, old man,” Kourosh said, his tone pleasant enough despite his words.

“Yes, master.” Tammuz shuffled more to his left, then sprang to his right, crashing into the soldier. Before Kourosh could react, the knife had buried itself in his chest, just under the breastbone, Tammuz driving the blade upwards with all his strength into the heart, just as he’d been trained.

Kourosh gasped, more in surprise than pain. His hands seized Tammuz’s shoulders, and he tried to push his attacker aside, but by then the knife’s blade had already sucked the strength from his arms. In a moment Tammuz tore free of Kourosh’s grasp, jerked the knife from his body. Ignoring the spurt of blood that spattered over his arm, Tammuz struck again, this time through the ribs and into the lungs. The second blow wrenched a gasp of pain from Kourosh and sent him sprawling on his back to the ground.

Tammuz glanced up and down the lane, ready to flee if anyone had noticed. But he saw no one. Satisfied, he reached down. His hands shook, and it took three tries before he could cut the soldier’s purse free from his belt. Kourosh wore a short sword, and it would be one of quality, so Tammuz slid that from its sheath, shoved it under his left armpit, and began trotting down the lane, back the way the soldier had come.

At the first joining of two lanes, Tammuz turned to his left. A hundred paces further was one of the city’s wells. As he drew near, Tammuz emptied the contents of the dead man’s purse into his hand, then dumped the coins into his tunic. He scooped some dirt from the lane into the purse and tossed it into the well. With luck, it would sink to the bottom and never be seen again.

By now Tammuz had reached the poorer quarters, and he saw the homeless or drunks sleeping in the lanes. He set the sword down near two unconscious forms who reeked of ale. With luck, they’d awake in the morning, find the sword, and try to sell it in the market.

Moving with caution, Tammuz retraced his steps toward the Kestrel. He stopped twice, to make sure that no one was following him, and doubled back once just to be certain. Then he crossed one more lane and in another few hundred paces reached the inn.