Conflict of Empires (2010) (60 page)

“The people already believe it,” Trella said. “You saved Akkad once from certain destruction. If we show strength, then they will remember that above all else. You will protect Akkad.”

“When I march our spearmen through the city’s lanes,” Gatus said, “the people will believe in our victory.”

“And as Annok-sur says,” Eskkar reminded them, “we’ll know more in a few days. There is no real danger to Akkad yet, and we’ve enough time to prepare.”

“Still, we’re going to need a new plan,” Gatus said.

Almost all of their tactics had relied on Kanesh withstanding any attacks, at least for a few days, until help could arrive or an orderly retreat set in motion. Now ninety good fighting men were dead or captured in Kanesh, and another thirty in Adarnar. Other outposts along the river had probably met the same fate. Akkad would be cut off from all information about the borderlands.

“Oh, yes,” Eskkar answered, wondering if his face revealed his own doubts. “We will most certainly need a new plan.”

A
t sunset, Eskkar and Trella dined alone in the workroom. Neither had much to say. She had set aside their usual evening meal, eaten outside in the courtyard and always with the company of one or two of Eskkar’s commanders and their wives, or a few important tradesmen. Tonight they needed to be alone with their thoughts.

Eskkar had given all the necessary orders, and his commanders had taken over. Within the city three hundred archers readied themselves for a possible attack. Messengers galloped off to the north, announcing the arrival of war and summoning all the soldiers from the training camps.

Over the last few months, in preparation for the call to arms, Akkad’s horsemen and spearmen had moved closer to the city, shifting in small groups from the northernmost camps to newer ones closer to Akkad. Only a few miles away, just across the Tigris, close to three hundred of Hathor’s best-trained cavalry stood ready to ride at a moment’s notice. And on the east bank of the river, less than three miles away, five hundred tough spearmen waited for Gatus’s orders. The complete force of Akkad’s army needed only a few more days to reach the city.

Other riders had ridden to the outlying farms and villages, warning them to seek protection within Akkad’s high walls. In the next few days, grain, herd animals and other supplies would flood into the city, in preparation for a siege of long duration. Storage rooms would be filled to capacity with everything needed to withstand a siege. Akkad’s leaders had prepared as best they could for exactly this event. In the coming days, weeks or months those preparations would be tested against swords and spears.

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.”

F
ive 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 Kanesh.” 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.”