the city of Sumer. Nevertheless, no one in Akkad ever mentioned it, most probably didn’t even realize it. Almost everyone within the city’s walls had come from somewhere else. Those born in the old village of Orak and the nearby farms were few in number, compared to those who had sought Akkad’s safety. No, she, Eskkar, and now little Sargon were the first true Akkadians. Most of the city’s inhabitants felt the same way, Akkadians first. The old name of Orak had vanished within a few months. Now another trouble had arisen, to provide a new challenge to her plans for the future. The cities of Sumeria had grown in size almost as fast as Akkad, but the southern lands held much less fertile soil to feed their increasing numbers. They could only expand to the north. Eridu had tried and failed. His attempt would not be the last.
Trella had spoken to the prisoner several times, questioning him about life in Sumer and his city’s plans, but he said little, ignoring her as a mere woman who should stay out of the affairs of men. No, Eridu was a fool, and sooner or later someone would take his place, someone who might be vastly more cunning, someone who would be an even greater danger to Akkad.
For that reason, the Sumerians needed to be stopped now. Her husband would be happy winning another battle, driving his enemies before him in defeat. But Trella wanted more. She needed the southern cities to be defeated so decisively that it would take another generation before they dared to think once again about the lands to the north. That generation would give Akkad all the time it needed. By then all the northern villages would be brought under Akkad’s rule, and the lands to the east and west settled and cultivated. With most of the fertile lands under Akkad’s control, the Sumerians would have no choice but to accept Akkad’s borders.
The danger lay in the next few years. If the Sumerians again went to war, they would not make the same mistakes a second time. In defeat, they had learned much. Sooner or later, they would have stronger leaders who thought much as she did. They would come in greater numbers and be prepared to win out over any defenses Akkad could raise.
Hathor had indeed spoken the truth when he said they didn’t know where or when the battle would take place, or even what kind of battle might face them. If Akkad were indeed greatly outnumbered, then a single defeat could end her dreams for the city’s future. No, she must plan for a brief campaign that completely mastered the Sumerians, one that defeated them so decisively that they would never again threaten Trella’s city.
So the battle must be fought and won starting today, years before the actual fighting took place. Trella would have to make sure Eskkar and his commanders planned for this great battle, the single stroke that would crush their enemies. That meant that the soldiers needed to be properly supplied, possible battlegrounds mapped, distances measured, spies set in place, food and weapons stockpiled, and men recruited and trained. The people of Akkad must be prepared as well, but subtly, so that they did not realize before time what they were being asked to do, and how much their existence was at stake.
Last, Eskkar and his commanders needed to think of total victory. Korthac had thought that way. He’d planned the battle in advance, gathered his forces in secret, launched an attempt on Eskkar’s life, and captured the city in a single night. Trella had been helpless, and only Eskkar’s determination and courage had saved the day. And his luck. Even he had not believed he could win back the city from the Egyptians, but had only intended to save his wife and son.
Now she needed to guide Eskkar’s mind, as well as his commanders, along those same channels. Akkad might have only one chance at survival. If it slipped away, Trella might yet end up as a slave once again.
Her final thoughts before she slipped into sleep were that Akkad would need all the gold it could raise. Without gold to pay the soldiers and provide for their needs, the city would fall. Much of her future, and that of their city, now depended on Orodes and whatever precious metals lay in the ground to the north.
12
For Orodes, the next few days passed quickly, and he scarcely remembered all the events that took place following his talk with Trella. Once they left the Compound, Tooraj clasped his hand on Orodes’s shoulder and kept it there, as if to insure that Orodes didn’t bolt and run. The soldier might be missing an eye, but his hand felt as if it could crush Orodes’s shoulder to splinters without effort.
At the docks, he found five soldiers and a woman waiting for them. Every soldier carried a bow and a quiver of arrows, and wore a sword belted at the waist. Horses were available for everyone, and two others served as pack animals. So many horses meant a serious expedition, Orodes noted.
“My tools… I’ll need my tools at the site.”
“Already taken from your father’s house and loaded,” Tooraj said. “Can you ride?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve ridden — ”
“Good. Get him moving.”
Tooraj directed his last words to one of his soldiers, who handed Orodes a halter. Within moments, they moved onto the ferry. It took two trips to get all of them and their animals across the Tigris. As soon as the second vessel discharged its contents on the western bank, Tooraj told everyone to mount up, and the little caravan started moving north.
The one-eyed soldier apparently preferred not to waste time talking, and he said nothing else to Orodes for the rest of the day. Tooraj, a competent horsemen, rode at the head of the party, with the woman, Calla, at his side. Orodes decided that she was the one who knew where they were going. Either the rest of the party didn’t know their destination, or more likely, didn’t care. Except for their leader, all the soldiers appeared less at ease on horseback. Like Orodes, they probably rode infrequently, and needed to pay close attention to their mounts.
They made good progress. The horses, while no doubt not up to Tooraj’s idea of good horseflesh, were sound enough, and they plodded along without much urging.
They camped as soon as it grew dark. Tooraj ordered Orodes to gather firewood along with the rest of the soldiers. Calla prepared the fire pit while the men foraged for wood, animal dung, or anything else that would burn. Fortunately, this close to the river, they didn’t have to wander far from the campsite to find water.
They ate in silence. One of the soldiers produced a wine skin, which was passed around to everyone except Orodes. Even Calla took a long swig, before passing the skin across Orodes’s body to one of the soldiers. Orodes looked at it longingly, but didn’t bother asking for a portion. Tooraj obviously had his orders about giving wine to a man found drunk and passed out in Akkad’s lanes.
Still, the smell of the raw date wine made the skin on Orodes’s hands and arms crawl with longing.
“You’re the guide?” Orodes decided he might as well talk to Calla, since it didn’t seem likely he’d have much to say to the soldiers. Besides, any conversation would take his mind off the now empty wineskin. Her hair had a few streaks of gray in it, and he guessed her age at about thirty seasons, too old to consider as a bedmate, at least not this early in the journey.
“Yes. My husband and his kin found the place with the gold a few months ago.”
She told him about the mine, her family, and what evil had overtaken them all. Orodes asked her about the gold, its quality, how they’d extract it, but Calla knew little about such things. Mostly she had cooked the food, and stitched the leather skins into sacks to hold the gold the men gathered.
Frustrated by her lack of useful knowledge, Orodes put his feet toward the fire and went to sleep, ignoring the still-talking soldiers and Tooraj.
In the morning, Orodes felt better. A long drink from the Tigris refreshed him, and he splashed water over his face and neck. He hadn’t slept very well in Akkad since his return, and certainly not during the night before, when he lay down drunk in the lane. Orodes shook his head in embarrassment at the recollection.
Breakfast consisted of bread and dates, and everyone climbed back on the horses just as the sun cleared the horizon.
The rest of the day and night was uneventful. But by mid-morning of the third day, Calla began to point out landmarks. For someone who had known almost nothing about the gold, she certainly seemed to know her away around this part of the countryside. Orodes wondered if her family might have been bandits themselves.
For two days they’d kept the river in sight, but now Tooraj, following Calla’s lead, turned the party westward, and they soon moved into the low hills that overlooked the river.
Orodes frowned as they rode west. His father and his father before him had explored this part of the country many times. None of these hills had ever produced any significant amounts of gold or anything else useful. By
