you take them with you.”
Sohrab winced at the thought. Handing over Almaric’s ears to the queen of Akkad would likely have been fatal. Sohrab lowered his eyes and kept silent. Anything he said would only enrage Kushanna further.
Kushanna wasn’t finished. “‘That mercy will be returned to you… when Eskkar reaches Sumer!’ The little slave bitch is trying to frighten me with her barbarian husband. I’ll have her brother’s eyes cut out and sent to her in a box!”
Kushanna stepped across the room to the table and snatched up another cup. This one she filled with wine. “And what of the king’s army? Has he encountered the Akkadians yet?”
Anything to change the subject, Sohrab decided. “Not yet, my queen. Eskkar and his army had marched out of Akkad three days before I met with Trella. By now King Shulgi may have already met and defeated the barbarian’s forces.”
Queen Kushanna shook her head. “I’ve received no reports of a battle yet. In another day or two we’ll know.” She lifted the cup and drank. The strong wine helped her regain her composure.
“Shall I go and remove the slave’s eyes?”
“No. Not yet. When Trella is captured and kneeling at my feet, I’ll do more than pull out his eyes. I’ll cut her brother’s balls off and make her eat them. That will repay her for the insult.”
Kushanna smiled, as if imagining the sight. “Go to the farm. Have the slave beaten. I want him whipped so hard that he can’t stand.”
“Yes, my queen.” Anything for an excuse to get out of the room. “Would you like me to bring him here in the morning and have him whipped in your courtyard?”
She considered that for a moment. “No. That can wait. Go.”
With a deep bow, Sohrab scurried from the chamber. Kushanna grimaced and stepped onto the balcony. An Akkadian trader hung by his hands from the punishment post. She stared at him while she thought. Trella seemed confident enough of victory, to send such an insulting message. Of course, that was to be expected until Shulgi destroyed Eskkar’s army. Then Trella would send a different message — a message begging for her own life.
Killing the brother now wouldn’t help, Kushanna decided. Alive, he might still be useful. Not that she expected Eskkar would ever show up at Sumer’s gates, but in war, as everyone said, anything could happen. No, she would wait to avenge the insult. That would make it even more pleasurable.
But for now… she called out to one of the soldiers standing guard below. “Guard. Guard! Have the prisoner whipped until he’s dead.”
“Yes, Queen Kushanna.” He trotted off to do her bidding.
Soon the sounds of the man’s agony would fill the courtyard. That would be some small satisfaction, at least until she had Trella in her power.
43
Day 1
Even as Razrek delivered his report to King Shulgi, Eskkar and his infantry splashed their way across the Sippar river. The invasion of Sumeria had begun. The Akkadians had marched south at a rapid pace, swinging wide of the post at Kanesh to avoid confrontation with the enemy. Eskkar’s men, despite struggling under the extra food and water they carried, had still managed to flank the Sumerian infantry with ease. A few hundred Sumerian horsemen had shadowed Eskkar’s forces, but they hadn’t come close, no doubt respecting the accuracy of the Akkadian bowmen, who now ringed the spearmen. If Shulgi had managed to get a few thousand of his men in position to block the Akkadian crossing, Eskkar would have had to fight his way through. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened.
The Akkadian force had halted as soon as they crossed the stream. Eskkar gathered his commanders — Gatus, Alexar, Mitrac, Drakis, Shappa, Grond and Chinua — around him. Chinua of the Ur Nammu commanded the fifteen Ur Nammu warriors, the youngest and wildest of the barbarians who had decided to ride and fight with Eskkar’s army. Fashod had taken the rest of the Ur Nammu with Hathor.
“As soon as the men have eaten and drunk their fill, call them to assembly. I want to talk to them. All of them. It’s time they knew what they faced.”
“Might as well. It’s too late for any of them to run back to Akkad,” Gatus said, a grin on his face.
As word spread that Eskkar wished to speak to them, the bowmen, spearmen, slingers, even the supply men and Ur Nammu warriors, crowded around their leader. Eskkar climbed to the top of a man-sized boulder, and waited until the soldiers had gathered around him, jammed together shoulder to shoulder and filling every space. At last they quieted down. More than four thousand men surrounded him, most of them still pushing and shoving, so they could get a step closer to better hear his words.
For once Eskkar had no qualms about talking. These were soldiers after all, not traders or merchants who might hide their smiles at his way of speaking or his still-strong accent. He knew many of these soldiers, and all of them knew and trusted him.
“Soldiers of Akkad, you’ve trained and marched for this day. Some of you have been cursing Gatus and myself for more than two years.”
Eskkar waited until the ripple of laughter rose and fell. “Now all that hard work will be put to the test. Our enemy outnumbers us, but they can’t fight as well as you, and I know they can’t march as fast as you can. The Sumerians have drawn men from all the cities of the south, and even the outcast clans of the western desert. They have no love for each other, and no common cause to fight for. They fight only because King Shulgi commands them.”
Such words came easily to him now. He knew what he wanted to say, and understood what they needed to hear.
“We fight because we are all brothers, all Akkadians. Like myself, most of you were not born in Akkad, but by taking up our cause, we have all become Akkadians. We fight for our families, our homes, our future. Now we will march to Larsa, the first of the six cities of Sumer. We will take Larsa, and punish its leaders for raiding our lands. And its spoils will be ours.”
A ragged cheer arose at the mention of spoils. Most of the soldiers owned little more than the clothes on their backs. They’d come to Akkad to better themselves, to leave the hardships of the farm and countryside behind, and most had joined the army to fill their bellies and earn a few copper coins each month. Few of them understood the life-or-death situation that Akkad and its leaders faced. A chance for the spoils of battle meant more to some of these soldiers than any cause. And if they had to kill a few Sumerians to get at them, then they would fight all the harder.
Eskkar waited until the cheering had faded away. “The Sumerian infantry will try to follow us, but they’ll be too slow to keep pace. Their cavalry will try to hold us back, but our bowmen will keep them at bay. All you have to do now is march, march and march again, until your legs are too weary to keep you standing, until you’re cursing Gatus and me as you’ve never done before. Until we reach Larsa, we cannot — will not — waste a moment. Meanwhile, obey your commanders, stay together, and we will defeat the Sumerians.”
Another cheer went up. In a single swift motion, Eskkar drew his sword and raised it over his head. A roar from over four thousand throats rose up at the gesture. He kept the blade pointed to the sky and filled his lungs with air. “March for Akkad! March for revenge! March for gold! Are you with me, Akkadians?”
An even louder clamor echoed out over the river, startling birds and even the Sumerian horsemen observing them from across the stream. The pandemonium went on and on, as every man raised his sword, spear, bow or fist in the air. “Akkad! Akkad! Akkad!”
The outcry continued, until the men’s voices grew hoarse.
Eskkar lowered his sword, then pointed it toward the south-west, the direction that would lead them to Larsa. “Then march! Show these Sumerian scum that you’re not a bunch of old women. Commanders, get this pitiful excuse for an army moving!”
More laughter swept through the men. They surged away from Eskkar, returning to their places, gathering up their supplies and weapons, jostling their way back into formation. Even before everyone was ready, Gatus gave the command to move out, and the invasion of Sumeria began in earnest.
