Berlit seemed the one with the quicker wits, so he started with her. “Describe Eridu for me. I want to know what he looks like.”
The slave girl described Eridu, and after a few sentences Eskkar held up his hand. “Enough.” The prisoner outside the tent was indeed Eridu, not some impostor sacrificing himself for his king.
“Now I want you tell me what Eridu’s plans were, why he sent men across the border, what he wanted to accomplish. I want to know everything you’ve seen and heard for the last few weeks. If you do, I’ll take you back to Akkad with me. My wife will care for you, find something useful for you to do. Otherwise…” He lifted his hand and pointed to the tent flap.
They started talking, and soon the whole story came out. They had only been with Eridu for nine or ten days, a gift from one of the king’s wealthy merchants. Eridu had taken possession of them just before he led his men out of Sumer, and decided they should accompany their new master on his campaign.
As Berlit spoke, her voice grew more confident, and the words that had first come haltingly now flowed like a steady stream. Even Girsu joined in the conversation, waving her hands around as she spoke, filling in details left out by her companion.
They were well into their story when Grond and Alexar entered the tent, followed a few moments later by Mitrac. Hathor arrived soon after that, his tunic still wet from its encounter with the stream. The commanders sat behind the girls, so as not to appear threatening, and after a few nervous glances over their shoulders, Berlit and Girsu soon forgot their presence.
Eridu’s slaves talked and talked. Eskkar even interrupted them once to have water brought in for them. The girls had been present during almost all of Eridu’s planning sessions. For the first time Eskkar heard the name of Razrek, the leader of the Sumerian horsemen, who had ravaged the borderlands, and somehow managed to escape Mitrac’s arrows. Even to both wretched girls, this Razrek appeared to be the mastermind of Eridu’s plan.
At last Berlit and Girsu ran out of things to say. “That’s all we know, Lord Eskkar. We were just waking up when the soldiers raised the alarm. King Eridu snatched his tunic and ran outside. That’s the last we saw of him, until you arrived.”
“You’ve done well,” Eskkar said. “You will return with us to Akkad. Something will be found for you there.” Better that than turning them over to his men. Two women tossed among eighty men would start half a dozen fights before the girls died. He turned to Grond. “Send someone to untie Eridu. Make sure he gets plenty of water and something to eat.”
He turned to the girls. “Stay in the tent. You know what will happen to you if you leave. Hathor, come with me. I want to show you something.”
Eskkar slipped through the flap, and all the commanders followed. Outside, he stepped around to the rear of the tent. “We found these in the camp, more than a hundred of them.” He picked up a long wicker shield and held it up. Each shield was covered with hide, and was pierced in the center to form a grip for the hand. When Eskkar raised it up, it covered his body from the chin nearly down to the knees.
“Mitrac’s been shooting arrows at these all afternoon. Our bows will penetrate them, but only at close range.” He tossed the shield aside and stooped to pick up a slim, bronze-tipped lance. “Eridu’s men had about three hundred of these. I think that’s why he didn’t fear our archers. He intended to have the shield-bearers form the first wave, with the rest of their men behind them carrying one or two lances. A quick charge to get close enough to throw the lances, then overwhelm us with their swords.”
Hathor inspected first the shield, then the lance, wrapped at the center to provide a good throwing grip, and nearly as tall as a man. “In Egypt, many of our soldiers carried shields like these, just thick enough to stop an arrow. And the lances, flung with all a running man’s strength, would be deadly at close range. If they could have closed with our archers…”
“Our archers would still kill half of them before they got into throwing range,” Mitrac said.
“Perhaps,” Eskkar said, “but if enough did get close enough, we might have lost more than half of our fighters.”
He picked up the lance, and thought about what it implied. A simple weapon compared to the bow, which took months to shape, and relied on bowstrings that snapped all too often, and arrows that had to be straight and true, nocked and feathered, and tipped with bronze. A thrown javelin such as this would pierce a man’s body with ease, the bronze blade emerging from the body’s back. If Eridu had a few more moments to prepare, if he only lost half his men to Akkadian arrows, the remaining Sumerians might have cut down Eskkar’s archers. A grim thought indeed.
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Alexar said, breaking the silence. “Everyone knows about the skill of our bowmen. Our enemies will try to find a way to counter Akkad’s archers.”
“In the great siege,” Grond said, “our archers fought from behind a wall. In all our battles outside the city, we’ve had to find a way to protect our bowmen. Even in today’s battle, we were fortunate to arrive at dawn, and with the sun behind us. If the Sumerians had time to gather their weapons and take up these shields, our losses might have been much greater.”
Grond understood the implication as well as Eskkar.
“We’ll speak more about this when we return to Akkad. Now, I think it’s time to talk to Eridu.” Eskkar led the way back toward the tent. The Sumerian sat on the ground near one of the campfires, guarded by two men. His hands had been untied. Eridu looked up as Eskkar and his commanders approached.
“King Eridu of Sumer,” Eskkar said. “Have you eaten your fill?”
Eridu, his mouth hanging open, stared at Eskkar and the grim-faced men surrounding him. “What… what do you want?”
“I want to know why you attacked our lands.” Eskkar didn’t bother to keep his voice down. The more his men heard, the better.
“The borderlands belong to no one,” Eridu said, trying to put some authority in his voice. “Sumer and the other cities have as much right to the crops here as Akkad.”
“Still, for two years you recognized the Sippar river as our southern border. You did nothing to lay claim to these lands, said nothing to anyone in Akkad. Instead, you sent soldiers pretending to be bandits to kill our farmers and devastate our lands. You marched across the border with your soldiers, to kill those you knew would be sent against you, and to seize all these lands, and perhaps even more.”
Eridu wet his lips. His eyes darted around, and saw that the Akkadians soldiers had moved closer, all of them eager to see and hear what would be done.
The only sound was the crackling of the nearby fire. “I will pay you a ransom for my safe return to Sumer,” Eridu said.
Eskkar smiled. “You came north to wage war upon Akkad and its people. You wanted to lead your soldiers to a great victory, and have everyone in Sumeria proclaim you a great warrior. But a real warrior should be able to fight his own battles.” He turned to Grond. “Give King Eridu a sword.”
The words had scarcely left Eskkar’s lips before Grond slipped his sword from its sheath and tossed it, hilt first, on the ground, where it landed close to Eridu’s hand. The two soldiers guarding the Sumerian moved back, as did Eskkar’s commanders, creating an open space for the two to fight.
“I won’t challenge you,” Eridu said. He moved his hand away from the sword’s hilt. “Your men will…”
“My men will give you a horse and set you free if you win,” Eskkar said. “Hathor, Alexar, you will see to that. Give your oath to let Eridu go free if he wins.” Eskkar took a step back and drew his sword. “You can ride back to Sumer and tell everyone how you killed Eskkar of Akkad in a fight. That should be enough glory for you.”
This time Eridu had to swallow before he could speak. “I won’t fight you. You’re a barbarian… you’re a skilled swordsman. I’ll meet whatever ransom you set, anything. I swear never again to send men across the border. Two hundred gold coins… three hundred. Petrah, my steward, will see to the payment. That should more than repay for the damage done to the crops and farmers.”
Eridu looked around the ring of men staring down at him and saw nothing but stony faces. He pushed Grond’s sword away with the back of his hand. “I won’t fight you. I’ll pay four hundred coins for my freedom.”
A staggering sum, enough to pay for all the damages and the cost of sending the soldiers south. Akkad could use all that gold, Eskkar knew. If he’d met Eridu in battle, Eskkar would have killed him without question or hesitation. But no one would pay for a dead man. The silence dragged on while Eskkar made up his mind.
“Your ransom will be eight hundred gold coins. From that sum, every one of my soldiers will receive one coin.”
