but their Ur Nammu teachers expressed satisfaction with their progress. Those who can’t are taught how to throw a lance. That’s difficult enough to do from horseback, but some of our men are getting good at it.”
Barbarians such as the Ur Nammu learned to ride and shoot from a horse’s back almost from birth. Eskkar understood that villagers would never achieve a steppe warrior’s level of skill in a few months, if ever. He knew he could not do it himself. His training with the clan had been interrupted before he had a chance to master the bow from the back of a horse. Not that he would ever have been very proficient. Eskkar was too tall to be a good archer from horseback, and his large hands lacked the dexterity needed to draw and nock an arrow while riding at a dead run.
“If using a bow can’t be done, Hathor, don’t waste the men’s time. I’d rather have a good rider flinging a lance and swinging a sword than a poor archer fumbling with a bow.”
A lance — usually not any taller than a man — made for a deadly weapon when thrown from the back of a charging horse. With the speed of the animal to add strength to the rider’s arm, a flung lance could pass right through a man’s body or impale a horse. In the last few months, Eskkar had spent quite a bit of time practicing with that weapon. Since he knew he could never shoot a bow on the run, the lance gave him the best weapon to strike an enemy at a distance.
“We have many months before we have to make that decision,” Hathor replied. “And you’re right, not many will be able to master that kind of archery. Right now the main thing is to teach the men how to ride and fight from horseback. Learning to ride well is a difficult and painful task that takes months to master. We’ve had two men killed so far, and lost a few horses to broken legs. Both men had their necks broken after being thrown. Now as soon as we think a man won’t make a good rider, we stop his training. No need to waste men or horses. And I’ve had to send back a few men, those who couldn’t control themselves or the horse while swinging a sword.
More than a few. Eskkar had heard the reports of those who couldn’t master the needed skills. Still, the numbers were fewer than he’d expected. Not everyone had the strength in their legs and back that enabled them to keep their seat while guiding a galloping horse across rough ground with one hand, and swinging a sword with the other.
Just as important was each rider’s sense of balance. A man needed to know how and when to lean forward or to the side, how to move with the animal. Striking with a sword required plenty of balancing ability. Otherwise the rider would crash to the earth with the first blow. To use a bow from a fast-moving horse required even more balance, since you needed two hands to use the bow. And you still had to guide the horse with your legs, voice, and the halter, while snatching another arrow from the quiver and fitting it to the bowstring, another task that took plenty of practice. Hand and leg movements had to guide the horse with precision, while the rider kept his balance with the animal racing beneath him.
Hathor waited a moment, then continued. “To train so many horses at the same time requires plenty of work. Like their riders, some horses, even after they’re broken, aren’t meant for warfare. Almost all of the horses we select are about thirteen to fourteen hands high, which gives them the size and bulk needed to carry a man and his weapons. Still, some taller animals don’t have the endurance, and a few smaller ones do as well as their taller brethren, though we make sure those mounts are matched with a small rider.”
Every barbarian, including Eskkar, preferred to ride his largest and strongest horse into battle. “And the Ur Nammu have found enough horses of that size to bring to us?”
“Yes. Subutai has his men out riding all the way to the steppes, to gather more wild stock.
“At least those animals will know how to fight. Unlike the tame horses raised in the villagers’ corrals.”
A horse raised in the wild could be a fearful fighter. Life in the herd involved biting, kicking and banging into other horses. Stallions fought and often killed to protect their mares, and the mares fought to protect their colts. Those same instincts made for a good warhorse.
As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, Hathor explained the rest of his training procedures, stopping often to answer Eskkar’s questions. Twice, Hathor turned to one or another of his commanders for a more precise answer. By then Eskkar knew all their names and responsibilities.
“Now I think it’s time to inspect the horses, Captain. And while we’re doing that, my men will prepare for the demonstration. We’re going to have two forces charge each other, so you can see how they ride and how they fight.”
Eskkar climbed to his feet. His head had cleared, and he felt rested and refreshed. It would be good to feel a horse between his knees again. “Come on, Grond. Let’s see what these men can do.”
“They can ride, Captain,” Hathor assured him. “And I think they’ll fight well when the time comes.”
“Then my trip was well worth the effort. After your commanders have finished, I’d like to ride with your men and take some practice with a lance. I don’t always get enough time in Akkad.”
Hathor nodded. “Then I’ll join you, if I may. We can hurl a few dozen lances and see how many targets we can hit. And since I saw you practicing your swordsmanship with a lance in your left hand, I’ve been doing it myself.”
“I learned that from Gatus. He has his infantry using their spears in all manner of ways. You never know when it might come in handy to have a second weapon.”
“Let’s hope we never need it in a battle,” Hathor said. “But always better to prepare for trouble than be caught by surprise.”
33
Shulgi lay back in the comfortable bed, enjoying the feel of the soft cloth against his naked body. The chatter of birds floated through the window, as well as the fainter sounds of Sumer’s inhabitants bustling about their morning business. Dawn had risen some time ago, but no one would disturb the warrior king of Sumer in his bedchamber. All the city’s inhabitants envied their king his good fortune to have the voluptuous Queen Kushanna in his bed, no matter what they might think about her strict rule over their lives. Brother and sister had brought peace and a measure of prosperity to the city, and few even remembered their father, dead now for over a year. The rumors that Eridu had died at his son’s hand had faded from memory.
Three months had passed since Shulgi’s last return to Sumer. In all that time he’d seldom slept on anything softer than a blanket stretched over hard ground. In truth, he hadn’t spent more than a few months in the city since taking power. Instead, he’d ridden up and down the length of the desert, chasing the last of the Salibs, even those who fled deep into the west to escape. Their destruction had taken longer than he’d expected, but he felt more than satisfied with the result — an army of horsemen at his command. Before Shulgi reluctantly turned his horse’s head back toward Sumer, he’d conquered another six desert clans and covered more than half the distance to the fabled land of Egypt. With the elimination of the last of the Salibs, the mocking title of Boy King vanished as well.
Egypt would be his next conquest, after he’d crushed Akkad and forced its people into his new Sumerian Empire. Once he had the additional manpower from Akkad and the northern lands, he would have an army large enough to invade Egypt. But that effort would have to wait a few more years. When he finished conquering Akkad, Shulgi knew he would need at least another year or two to solidify his rule over the remnants of the Akkadian lands, as well as the other cities of Sumeria. After Shulgi eliminated their petty rulers and installed men loyal only to himself, he would reign supreme, the only king in the vast land between the rivers. First Akkad, then Egypt, then only the gods knew how far Shulgi could stretch his reach.
“What are your thoughts, my brother?” Shanna ran her fingertips down his arm and onto his stomach.
Shulgi’s thoughts of empire vanished at her touch, and his manhood stirred even before her hand closed around it. He’d taken her twice last night as soon as he returned to Sumer, and once again this morning. No matter how often he possessed her, it needed only a word, a look, the feel of her breast, to make him hunger for her body again. Shulgi wondered how she’d learned to arouse such passion in a man. Perhaps Kushanna, too, was a witch, like the queen of Akkad. He wondered if Eskkar felt the same lust for his wife. Not likely, he decided. Those who had seen both women voiced only disdain for Trella’s plain looks and simple attire.
“I was thinking how soft your lips are when they touch my body, Shanna.”
“Mmm, yes, such a beautiful body. So strong, and so fierce a rod. Since you’ve ridden to war, you’ve grown even more handsome. A true king.” She tightened her grip, and his erection sprang up, throbbing. Taking her time, she moved down the bed, settled herself comfortably, and let her breasts dangle against his thigh. She brushed her
