secures the border.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Rebba didn’t wait for an answer. “It won’t be easy to invade Sumeria. You’ll need supplies and food, and you’ll have to march your men a long distance. And when you do arrive at Larsa, you’ll find yourself facing a walled city full of defenders.”
Larsa, the northernmost of the six cities in the Sumerian alliance, had always been the most troublesome. It would be the first one to face any attack by Akkad.
“Yes, Rebba, that’s exactly what I expect,” Eskkar said. “So that is what we’re going to prepare for. When we tear down Larsa’s walls and put what’s left standing to the torch, the other Sumerian cities will understand the price of crossing our border and attacking our people.”
“And have you considered how you will destroy Larsa’s walls and capture it?”
“Not yet,” Eskkar said with a smile. “My commanders and I meet tomorrow to begin planning for such things. While we train archers, horsemen, and foot soldiers, Corio and his kin will be busy figuring out ways for us to storm a city’s walls. By the time such an attack is needed, we should have both the manpower and the skills needed to capture a city the size of Larsa within a few days. If we can do that, we can end the war.”
“And if the rest of Sumeria fights on,” Nestor said. “Then what will you do?”
“We’ll march to the next city and destroy that one, too. Crush every city that resists, and spare each one that abandons war. Put yourself in their place, Nestor. Would you rather fight or make peace?”
“You assume much, Eskkar,” Nestor answered. “How can you be so certain?”
“It’s not just me,” Eskkar answered. “My commanders think as I do.” He glanced around the table. The soldiers were nodding agreement. “Don’t forget, nobles, many of our preparations will soon be known to the Sumerians. That may help them choose peace instead of war. If they know what we might do to them, they may just decide to leave us alone. But as long as we have something they want, as long as our fertile farmlands tempt them, or they desire to control our trade, they will search for every opportunity to take what they want. If that means destroying Akkad, those who seek power or wealth will demand it. We must be prepared for war, whether it comes as an invasion or more raids across our border.”
No one spoke, and it seemed as if the sighing of the trees gave voice to everyone’s thoughts.
“We fought to save our city from the barbarians,” Nicar said, breaking the silence. “We fought to take back Akkad from Korthac. Would we now give it away to the Sumerians? How much would it take to satisfy their demands? Half our land? All of it?”
“So you think war is the answer,” Rebba said. “Attacking other cities and destroying them?”
“Only if they bring war to us,” Eskkar said. “We have to prepare Akkad to meet whatever threat may come, either next year, or the year after that, or the one after that.”
“No one wants war,” Trella said.
“Then you think we can avoid a conflict?” Rebba directed the question to Trella. He knew she decided Akkad’s future as much — if not more so — as her husband. And that she wanted peace.
“No, I think it will come,” Trella said, “but we may be able to delay it, and we can hope to make any conflict a short one. And it will be better for Akkad if the war is fought in Sumeria, and not in our lands. Then it will be their farms and villages that are ravaged.”
“Whatever course of action we decide, we must speak as one voice,” Eskkar said. “If the people think we are not united, then their resolve will weaken and Sumeria’s desire for revenge will grow stronger. My commanders and I have seen the face of the enemy. We believe Akkad needs to prepare for war. But if the nobles and leading merchants show disagreement, it will give strength to our enemy even as it weakens ourselves.”
“I agree,” Corio said. “We must prepare for war.”
“As do I,” Nicar said. “But with one condition. We must make every effort to maintain peace with Sumeria. I do not want our words or preparations to force them into war.”
“Nor do I,” Eskkar said. “And remember, they have little that we would want. If Akkad is to grow, we will grow to the north and to the west. Sumeria has nothing to fear from us. In time, they should have the wits to understand that.”
“Then prepare for war,” Nicar said. “The sooner we can achieve a lasting peace, the better.”
“Prepare for war,” Rebba said.
Nestor and Decca looked at each other, resignation on their faces. “Prepare for war.”
All eyes went to Yavtar. As one of the most prosperous traders in the city, his opinion carried weight. The half dozen boats he owned plied the river, carrying cargo north and south.
And he had risked his life in the battle to save Akkad from Korthac.
“I spoke with one of the leading merchants in Sumer. Like us, he understands that trade is cheaper than war. It is their leader, Eridu, seeking the glory of a conquest, who brought on this conflict. If we treat them fairly in matters of trade, we may avoid any future raids.”
“To accomplish that,” Trella added, “we want to set up a trading village just inside the border. That will make it simpler to trade with Sumeria, to exchange food for their goods. A convenient trading outpost will make it easier for them to choose peace rather than war.”
“Then we’re all agreed. Good.” Eskkar let his body relax. “Perhaps we can start by trying to convince Eridu of our peaceful intentions.”
“It might be better if I spoke with him,” Nicar said. “He’s not likely to want to hear anything from the man who cut off his hand.”
“No doubt,” Eskkar said. He wanted nothing further to do with Eridu anyway. “Just make sure he knows what he’ll lose if he tries anything like that again.”
9
The next day, with mid-morning approaching, two members of the city’s guard finally found the man they sought. Orodes lay sleeping on his side, stretched out against the wall of a tavern, ignored by the people passing to and fro in the lane. Bodies in the lanes, drunk, sleeping, or dead, were not an uncommon sight. The guards, one a seasoned veteran named Wakannh, and the other much younger, almost walked past the inert body, before the senior man slowed his pace and stopped a few steps away.
“Wait. I think that’s the one she wants, and about time, too.” Wakannh crossed to the man and peered down. “I recognize him.” He prodded the unresponsive body with his toe. “Drunk and passed out. Get him on his feet.”
“I’m not carrying a drunk all the way to the compound by myself,” the younger guard protested.
“Carry him, drag him by his balls, I don’t give a shit what you do.” As a leader of ten, the older guard didn’t intend to waste any of his own muscles on a drunk. That’s what recruits were for. “Just get him moving.”
Muttering under his breath, the second guard rolled the still snoring Orodes onto his back. “Demons’ piss, the pig threw up on himself. Are you sure this is the one?”
Wakannh leaned over to look closer at the man’s dirt and vomit-crusted face. “Ugghh, he stinks. Someone’s pissed on him, too. But that’s Orodes.” He grabbed Orodes’s arm and together they yanked him to his feet, waking him up in the process. The groggy man tried to protest, but the two soldiers gripped Orodes by his arms and half- walking and half-dragging, led the helpless man away, to the amusement of those onlookers who stopped to watch.
Two lanes over, the leader of ten stopped beside one of the public wells. “Might as well clean him up here. No sense bringing anything that filthy into Lady Trella’s courtyard.”
The second man shoved Orodes head first into the trough that collected the water, and held him there until he coughed and choked, flailing his arms but unable to lift his head. When the guard jerked Orodes’s head up by his hair, he just hung there, helpless, too weak even to raise his arms. “What about his tunic? Stinks of piss and vomit. Probably full of lice, too.”
“Get rid of it,” Wakannh agreed. “It’s worse than nothing.”
The guard grasped the tunic with both hands and ripped it apart. Then he jerked the torn remnants from Orodes’s body and kicked them aside. “Wash yourself up, you pig.”
A few bystanders collected and laughed at the naked man’s plight.
