G atus organized the column into three groups. The spearmen formed the core of the marching formation, with the supply men, builders, even Eskkar’s two clerks, directly behind them. Bowmen and slingers surrounded them on all sides. The archers would keep any enemy horsemen at a distance. Eskkar had only twenty horsemen with him, in addition to the dozen or so Ur Nammu warriors. These, supported by groups of slingers who acted as skirmishers, would scout the land and act as messengers if needed.
The Sumerian cavalry — from what Eskkar had seen of them — didn’t possess many bows, and those who did carried the smaller kind meant for use on horseback. The Akkadian longbows had almost twice the reach. If the Sumerians charged his archers and tried to overrun them, the spearmen and slingers would be ready and waiting to deal with them. Those who survived the hail of arrows would find themselves impaled on a wall of spears.
Gatus led the formation, riding his mare and wearing his battered reed hat. Grond and the other commanders had insisted Eskkar march with the spearmen, out of range of any arrow launched high into the air. He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to talk to the men, and he moved up and down the ranks they traveled speaking to many, answering questions, or even listening to stories the soldiers told about other battles.
They kept a fast pace, but the Akkadians halted often, taking short breaks that never seemed to last long enough to rest. The sacks each man carried gradually grew lighter, as the bread, cheese, and dates were consumed. Better to carry the food in your belly than on your shoulder.
By mid-afternoon, the scouts galloped back to report. A large force of cavalry was coming up behind them, driving hard.
“How many?”
“Seven hundred, eight hundred, perhaps a thousand,” the scout replied, his eyes still wide with excitement.
“Not enough to attack us,” Gatus said. He had one leg swung over the mare’s neck. “Probably reinforcements for Larsa.”
Eskkar knew how hard it was to count moving horsemen, but the number seemed about right. “The rest will be at our heels soon enough. They’ll try to slow us down.”
“We’ll see about that,” Alexar said. “Our bowmen have been waiting for a chance to test their weapons.”
“Keep the men ready for anything, an attack, an ambush, anything.”
Eskkar didn’t fear the horsemen. No horse that ever lived would charge a bristling line of spears, no matter how hard its rider urged it forward. Archers could be ridden down, if the enemy were willing to take the losses, but men armed with shields and spears were a different matter. If the Sumerian horse attacked the archers, they’d find themselves crushed by the spearmen. And even the Sumerians didn’t have enough cavalry to dare a true frontal attack. As long as Eskkar stayed away from Shulgi’s infantry, his force of Akkadians would be safe. At least, that was what he told himself several times each day.
The Akkadian army kept moving. The tactics and marching orders used in months and years of training now proved their worth. The odd commands and alignments, which once had made the men shake their heads at their leaders’ apparent stupidity, now provided a safe zone for all his men. Almost none of the soldiers were aware that today’s formation had been planned months and years ago. Only Eskkar’s most trusted commanders knew the whole story.
Darkness had fallen before Gatus gave the order to halt near a small stream that provided fresh water. Weary men dropped their sacks and shields, but there was no time yet for rest. The commanders marked out a square camp, with the slingers, archers, horses and supplies in the center, the spearmen surrounding them.
After objections from Eskkar, Gatus had come up with the idea of the night camp. “The men need a place to sleep while on the march,” he declared. “If we provide a secure place each night, they’ll sleep better and march farther the next day. Or would you rather be attacked while you sleep and wake up with your throat slit?”
Eskkar had thrown up his hands and given in. The idea of spearmen infantry belonged to Gatus. If having the men fortify a camp each night appeased the old soldier, Eskkar would go along. That night, Gatus and Eskkar walked the camp, inspecting the preparations. Only when Gatus declared himself satisfied with their preparations to repel any attack during the night did the men receive the command to rest.
Fires were soon burning, but most of the soldiers ate a simple dry meal of bread and dates and whatever else they had to hand. Within moments, those not on guard duty were snoring away, loud enough to be heard back in Akkad. At least it seemed that way to Eskkar.
He and his commanders sat huddled in the center of the camp, hunched over a cloth map spread out in the dirt. Trella’s agents had started mapping this entire area years ago. Now Eskkar could see the location of every stream, well and landmark between Kanesh and Larsa, with the route they were to take stitched out in red threads.
“It took longer than we expected to reach this place, and we had no opposition. Tomorrow’s march will be even longer, and if Razrek’s horsemen attack…”
“The men will be carrying less weight tomorrow,” Gatus said. “And we’ll start moving at first light. We’ll make up the time.”
Eskkar decided there was no sense in arguing about it. Tomorrow’s march would tell the tale.
Gatus leaned over and studied the map. “How far did we come today?”
“About twenty-two miles,” Eskkar said, checking the map, though by now he had little need of it. He’d memorized it months ago. “Tomorrow we need to do twenty-four, almost twenty-five miles if we want to reach fresh water.”
Even as Trella’s spies had mapped the land, they had also measured the distances. For two years a dozen men had mapped and paced off much of the land of Sumeria. Hopefully, no one in the southern lands had noticed any of this activity.
Eskkar thought it quite remarkable to know in advance the exact distance one had to walk or ride to reach a destination, and even more remarkable to know approximately how long such a journey would take.
“These spearmen are tough,” Gatus said. “They’ll make the march. They’ve done it often enough in training.”
Once again, Eskkar kept silent. The men were carrying more weight now than they usually did in training. No one else answered Gatus’s comment, but every commander knew that training had ended, and that this was real war. And the spearmen had the most equipment to carry. An archer could travel fairly well carrying a bow, two quivers full of arrows, and a short sword. The slingers carried even less. But a spear and shield were both heavy and cumbersome to carry, and spearmen wore helmets of bronze as well, which were usually tied to a man’s waist as they walked. With all those items of warfare attached to his body, a spearman needed to press hard to keep up with the archers.
“I’m going to get some sleep.” Gatus stood and stretched, ignoring the silence regarding tomorrow’s march. “I suggest you do the same.” He strode off to throw his body down on the ground beside his sub-commanders.
“Well, we’ll know where we are tomorrow night,” Eskkar said. “Let’s hope Gatus is right. Meanwhile, make sure everyone gets some rest. We’re going to need all the sleep we can get.”
44
Uvela sat cross-legged on the ground, with only a thin blanket to soften the hard earth beneath her. To make herself more comfortable and catch a bit of shade from the midday sun, she leaned back against Akkad’s outer river wall. Before her lay a sun-bleached linen cloth, upon which rested an assortment of leather straps, necklaces, carved figures of Ishtar, as well as the other various spirits that brought luck or long life or fertility or strength to a man’s rod. Every so often an idle laborer or visitor from the surrounding farms would wander by, let his eyes glance over her wares, and move on.
Few of Uvela’s wares would attract a second look. By custom, such a prime location close to the docks and the river gate should have been occupied by a reputable seller of more valuable goods. But though she managed to sell one or two items every few days, no one asked Uvela to give up her station. Not even the more aggressive merchants, eager for additional selling space bothered to complain about her presence.
Uvela’s station included the younger woman who sat beside her, tending the small cooking fire burning in a
