“My master doesn’t speak your language,” Muta said, moving beside Hathor. “We come from the desert to the west of Margan.”
A cry went up from one of the guards on the tower. “Commander! I see horsemen! Hundreds of them approaching!”
“Close the gate,” the commander shouted, then turned to Hathor. “Get your men inside!”
The man’s slow wits hadn’t connected Hathor’s party with those approaching at a canter. Hathor’s sword flashed from its sheath and he drove the point into the man’s stomach. The gatekeeper’s eyes showed surprise and understanding in the brief moment before life fled his body.
Shouts echoed across the towers and along the walls. Hathor’s men were already casting off their ropes and seizing their weapons. Bows and quivers were scooped up from the packs. Men raced into the towers, to climb the steps and kill the guards. The slaves about to close the gate fled down the nearest lane.
Two Akkadians had a different role. Each carried a hammer and a thick stake, and each was already hammering the stakes into the ground. A few mighty swings, and the sharpened stakes penetrated deep into the earth, preventing the gates from closing.
An arrow struck the wall just behind Hathor. He ducked into the doorway of the nearest tower. Soldiers from inside the city were rushing to the walls, but they had to fight their way through those inhabitants trying to get as far away from the gate as possible.
Hathor’s men took their station inside the towers, shooting arrows at anyone attempting to drive them out. Arrows from the defenders rained down on the gate from the walls, but the gates remained open. Until the stakes were removed, a task that would take several men some time, the gates could not be closed.
Leaving his men at the base of the tower, Hathor rushed up the steps. Bodies were strewn about the top of the tower, including a few of his own men.
“Keep down!” a voice shouted.
Defenders from along the wall on either side were targeting the Akkadians. Nevertheless, Hathor risked a quick glimpse over the wall. Klexor and his men were only a few hundred paces away, screaming their war cries and kicking their exhausted horses at a dead run. Nothing could stop them now.
Hathor dashed back down the steps. By the time he reached the bottom, over seven hundred heavily armed men were riding through, all shouting war cries at the tops of their lungs. They split into three groups, one heading for the barracks, one for the marketplace, and one for the main stables.
Uruk had close to four thousand people living within its walls, but many of its fighting men had joined Shulgi’s army. The city probably only had three or four hundred armed men capable of mounting a resistance, and these were scattered throughout the city, their day’s work ended. Leaderless, they tried to resist, to gather themselves into units, but soon hundreds of people were streaming toward the south and east gates, escape the only thought in the minds. A few of the defending soldiers had the same thought, and the city’s defense collapsed before it could even get organized.
Flames sprang up, as Akkadians found torches and oil, and set fires, as much to panic the inhabitants as to light the city against the gathering darkness. Women wailed and men shouted, all of them rushing about trying to save themselves. Hathor had never seen anything like this before, the entire population of a large city thrust into a complete panic within moments. Most had no idea who had attacked them. He heard the word “Tanukhs” again and again, despite the Akkadians using their city’s name as their war cry. It seemed like everyone within the walls was screaming in terror.
By the time Hathor reached the south gate, the sun had started its descent below the horizon. As far as he could see, and in every direction, people streamed away from the already burning city, carrying their children or whatever possessions they had managed to snatch up. They would run and run until they collapsed in exhaustion.
Klexor rode up. “We captured the stables and many horses before they could escape. I’ve told our men not to pursue those running away. Otherwise, any who resist are to be killed.
“Keep the fires burning.” Hathor had to shout to be heard over the din. “Burn everything. And make sure the horses we don’t need are slaughtered, too.”
There must not be any pursuit after the Akkadians had left. His men knew what needed to be done. One by one, as they found no foe to face them, they put down their bloody weapons and began heaping the fires. Doors, corrals, clothing, anything that would catch fire was put to the torch.
The sun slipped below the horizon, but the light from the fires that had sprung up everywhere made the city as bright as day. Uruk would burn through the night. This city, like the camps in the desert, would pay the price for helping recruit and arm the Tanukhs, so they could wage war on Akkad.
Day 9
I n the morning, the stench of burning wood and flesh — both human and animal — hung in the air. Hathor’s commanders counted at least two hundred bodies, mostly men who had died either fighting or trying to escape. The rest had abandoned their homes and fled. The countryside would be full of people running or trying to hide.
Hathor give his tired men no rest during the night. Guarding the captured horses, loading supplies and water skins, and even collecting loot, all had to wait until his men gathered everything that would burn and set it afire. Twice he rode through the wreckage of Uruk, pointing out huts or corrals still standing that his men had overlooked.
His soldiers cursed and swore at him as they labored, covered with sweat, dust and soot from the fires. Nevertheless, every man took satisfaction in the destruction. Uruk had provided men and supplies to both Sumer and the Tanukhs, and now terror had come upon them.
Just before mid-morning, Hathor swung himself onto his horse, and led his men out of the north gate. The Akkadian cavalry now resembled a vast caravan, with over a hundred captured horses loaded down with loot, the spoils of an entire city. Behind them, they left an empty shell, inhabited only by the dead, and possibly a handful who might have saved themselves by concealing themselves in their hiding holes. Hathor had even ordered the captured women, some still crying after being raped, driven out of the city. Some would return, but they would find little to sustain them.
The supply animals forced the Akkadians to travel slowly. The horses had a night’s rest, but they were still weary from the great distance they had traveled yesterday. Still, Hathor knew he had to balance his men’s need for rest with the need to keep moving. By now word of his raid would be spreading throughout the land, and every city and village would be scrambling to assemble a force large enough to hunt him down. This deep into enemy territory, anything could happen. Given enough time, the Sumerians could raise enough men to trap him.
Hathor led his men back up the Euphrates, to the place where he had crossed only yesterday. They pitched camp there and set up picket lines. Not only was the crossing a good place to camp, with plenty of fresh water, but they could see a good way in every direction, which meant no enemy could surprise them. Everyone not on guard duty slumped to the ground to fall asleep within moments. Hathor wanted to do the same, but he forced himself to remain awake, letting Klexor and Muta get some rest first. That would ensure that at least one of the senior commanders stayed awake and alert.
When they woke Hathor, the sun was falling toward the horizon.
“Commander, boats are approaching. It must be Yavtar.”
Hathor accepted the soldier’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. By the time he reached the river, six boats were heading for the shore, three of which were Yavtar’s fighting ships. Hathor recognized Maralla, the commander of this little fleet. He stood in the prow of the lead boat, then jumped into the river and splashed his way to where Hathor stood.
“Welcome, Maralla.” Hathor clasped the man’s shoulder.
“Welcome, Hathor. We saw the smoke, and knew Uruk was burning.”
“We were fortunate. They had no idea any Akkadians were within two hundred miles of Uruk.”
“Did you lose many men?
“About twenty dead, and thirty-six wounded. Can you take all of them?”
“Yes, and whatever loot you want us to carry, as soon as we unload the grain, food and arrows.”
“You may need more boats. My men brought plenty of valuables with them. And the horses need the grain. We didn’t have time to take much food from Uruk. We’ll stay here and rest for a day or two, before moving east.”
“As soon as we’ve exchanged cargoes, I want to be out of here.” Maralla glanced up and down the river, as if
