A wine skin lay close at hand, and he’d already finished at least two cups of the strong drink. One more and he’d sleep well tonight, though he’d pay for it in the morning. Right now, it didn’t seem to matter.
Alexar limped up, as weary as any man in the army. He had taken a spear in his leg. Despite that, Alexar had been the first to recognize the black mood that descended over Eskkar after Shulgi’s death. Alexar regrouped the men and organized the brief march north. He slumped to the ground beside Eskkar.
“I’ve got a rough count of our dead, Captain.”
“How bad?” Another grim aftermath of every battle — the dead friends and companions, the wounded who would die later. Eskkar knew there was no escape from Alexar’s tidings.
“About two hundred cavalry dead. Less than fifty archers, and almost half of those died on the boats. The slingers did better than anyone expected. Only forty dead.”
“The infantry?”
“Two hundred and forty dead. Many of the survivors took wounds.” Including Gatus, who had died with Eskkar’s arms around his shoulders. Eskkar had wept for the old soldier, who had flung his life into the battle to save his line from breaking. At least he died as he would have wanted, standing alongside his men and fighting to the end.
Grond had died as well, overwhelmed by a dozen men after he raised a mound of dead around himself. And probably still struggling to reach Eskkar’s side. Klexor had died, too, riddled by enemy spears when his horse went down almost as the fighting ended. Muta had taken his command when his leader fell. A dozen paces away from where Eskkar sat, Drakis lay wrapped in bandages. Four years ago the man had nearly died fighting in Akkad, and now he was gravely wounded again. He would be on the first boat returning to Akkad in the morning.
The list of dead could have been far worse, Eskkar knew. The gods had favored him once again. Either that, or Gatus’s training had kept most of the men alive, including himself. The slim Akkadian lance had kept Shulgi’s sword at bay just long enough.
Eskkar’s own victory over Shulgi counted for little. Every man watching had seen the younger man wear down his older opponent. In truth, Eskkar had won only by a trick, a desperate gamble that should have failed the first time he tried it, let alone the second. It bothered him that he hadn’t been able to kill Shulgi outright, but staying alive was what counted, not how you did it. Eskkar knew what Trella would say when he told her. “In time they will only remember that you faced the king of Sumer in battle and slew him.”
He would send her word of the victory tomorrow. She’d had her own victory over the Alur Meriki to celebrate. That didn’t matter, either. Only that the city would remain safe and free, and that Sargon would grow stronger every day. The threat from Sumer had been eliminated. Once Eskkar stamped out Kushanna and her nest of snakes, peace would return to the land, at least for a time.
In the morning, Hathor would take the brunt of the cavalry and ride south. Despite today’s victory, Eskkar intended to give Sumer no time to recover, raise more troops, or prepare a defense. Hathor had somehow come through the fighting almost unscathed. His dark Egyptian gods must still be protecting him. He would ravage the lands around Sumer, and seal it off from any river traffic. By the time Eskkar’s army arrived, the city might have already surrendered.
“Drink some more wine, Captain, and get some sleep,” Alexar said. “You need the rest.”
Eskkar glanced up. Alexar’s voice showed his concern. It always surprised Eskkar when others showed honest affection for him. And Alexar had his own wound to prove his courage. At least his commander knew how great the danger had been, and how lucky they were to survive it.
Without stopping, Eskkar emptied the wine cup, tossed it aside, then fell back against the hard ground. More than two years had passed since this war began, but it had finally ended. Once again Trella would be kept busy helping the city recover. Better than anyone, she knew how to heal the wounds in the countryside and in the city. But peace would soothe the pain, and in time, Akkad would grow strong again, with its walls raised ever higher until, like mighty arms, they spread their protection around Trella, their son, and their children yet to come.
Eskkar looked up at the stars blazing overhead. Now he knew what they foretold. Long life for himself and Trella. A son to carry on their line, other descendants who would live through them and through the ages. Most of all, Akkad would grow strong and prosperous again. The empire encompassing all the land between the two rivers would be ruled from Akkad, not Sumer. And that, Eskkar decided before he fell into an exhausted and troubled sleep, made all the fighting worthwhile.
61
In Sumer, the days rushed by, each filled with excitement. The war talk dominated every conversation. Rumors abounded about King Shulgi’s army, its mighty size and power, its rapid march to the north. Everyone spoke proudly of how the other Sumerian cities already acknowledged Sumer’s leadership. Others boasted about the coming destruction of Akkad and the creation of a mighty Sumerian Empire that stretched between the two rivers all the way to the far north.
When word of the fall of Kanesh arrived, the city’s inhabitants celebrated. The fertile fields of the north would soon supply Sumer’s every need, and slaves from the Akkadian lands would abound in the slave market.
Nevertheless, many suffered hardship. With the resumption of hostilities, trading ceased almost at once. Every boat that arrived at the docks was taken into King Shulgi’s service, as the soldiers commandeered every craft. Wine and ale, grain and bread, chickens and herd animals, all were rushed aboard boats and sent north. Since the only vessels moving on the river carried cargoes to support King Shulgi’s army, food supplies within Sumer grew scarce. Queen Kushanna’s men had already emptied the city’s storage places to feed the ravenous army. And still supply caravans departed each day, taking what little remained and collecting supplies along the way.
The shortages caused every merchant to raise prices, though few buyers had enough coins remaining to purchase anything but necessities. Even En-hedu’s massages slowed, as the tight-fisted upper classes, staggering under Kushanna’s ever-rising taxes, ordered their pampered women to cut back. Without a steady supply of ale, business at the Kestrel dropped off as well, and En-hedu and Tammuz suddenly found they had plenty of time on their hands.
Still, the mood in Sumer remained jubilant until the ninth day after the start of hostilities. Late in the afternoon, boatmen returning from Kanesh reported the disquieting news that Eskkar’s army had slipped by King Shulgi’s forces at Kanesh. The Akkadians were reputed to be marching toward Larsa or possibly even Sumer. Before the sun set, word had reached every hut in every lane. Many refused to believe it. For the first time, worried looks appeared on many faces. The city’s soldiers doubled their efforts to strengthen the walls.
A king’s messenger arrived the next day demanding more troops. Half the city’s remaining garrison departed, ordered north to protect the caravans moving supplies. For En-hedu and Tammuz, that resulted in one piece of good tidings — Jarud was promoted to Captain of the Guard. He celebrated with his friends and companions at the Kestrel the next evening.
Three days later, a boat carrying no cargo docked with word of the fall of Larsa. The grim news swept through Sumer. Over the next few days, more reports arrived, many of them conflicting, all of them adding shocking details about the destruction of Larsa. King Shulgi remained in pursuit of Eskkar’s forces, but now that meant little to the city’s inhabitants. Rumors insisted that the Akkadians were on the march to Sumer, intending to tear down the walls and kill everyone within.
The inhabitants started hoarding what little they had. Many shops and stalls in the lanes closed. Dozens left the city, before Queen Kushanna ordered the gates closed. No one was allowed to depart the city without her permission. The mood in Sumer turned sullen, as hard-eyed messengers from King Shulgi returned and departed, forbidden by Kushanna to speak to any. Desperate people, trapped in the city without any means of livelihood, formed gangs that roamed the lanes at night, searching for anything of value or even food to eat.
The gloom worsened when Sumer learned of the raid on Uruk, the city burned and its inhabitants driven into the countryside by Eskkar’s horsemen, who had magically appeared out of the desert, wreaked their havoc, and disappeared. Everyone agreed that the king of Akkad was a demon from the underworld. How else could his armies be in so many places, and move about unopposed?
Twenty days after the start of the war, horsemen arriving at midday brought word of a mighty battle outside Isin, and the destruction of the Akkadian army. Eskkar’s soldiers had been crushed and the survivors driven into the
