proficient every day, thanks to those accursed steppe barbarians in the north.”
Shulgi knew the remnants of the Ur Nammu had been assisting the Akkadians. Kushanna had tried to reach out to them, offered them gold and trading opportunities, but the clan had rebuffed her overtures. The Ur Nammu would deal only with Akkad, despite her bribes and offers of friendship.
“My men are training each day as well, and we’ve fought a dozen battles with the Salibs.”
“All to the good, Shulgi. But don’t grow overconfident. You will need every man from every city in Sumeria. Crush the Akkadians with numbers. Eskkar and his men will not go down easily.”
“Agreed. But with an army that small, Eskkar knows he can only fight a defensive war. He expects us to invade his land and besiege his city. He hopes to wear us down until we abandon our attacks. I’ll do that if I have to, but I prefer to force him out from behind his walls. Make him fight on my terms.”
“You’ve a plan for that?”
“Yes, I’ve been working on it for months, with Razrek and Vanar and the others. We’ll bring Eskkar out of Akkad, then destroy him.”
Kushanna didn’t answer. Instead she picked up a date and split the skin, removing the pit. “Our father tried that.”
Shulgi took another mouthful of bread before answering. “Our father was a fool. He wanted to defeat Eskkar himself. The man means nothing to me. It’s his city I want. If Eskkar wants to keep it… well, then he’ll come to me, fight me on my terms.”
She waited a moment, until she realized he didn’t intend to offer any more information.
“Be aware that Trella continues to raise Akkad’s walls higher and higher.”
“She can raise them as high as the mountains for all I care.” He smiled at her and patted her hand. “And her spies? Have you found them all?”
“Most of them. And I’ve put many others to the torture.” A smile crossed her face at the memory. “Some have confessed spying for Trella. But I’m sure there are still a few within the city.”
Shulgi knew that Kushanna, even as a young girl, enjoyed watching men tortured. It was one of the few things that excited her.
“How do you know when they’re telling the truth?”
“It’s simple. If they use Trella’s name, I know they’re lying, saying anything to stop the pain. When I hear Annok-sur’s name on their lips, then I know we captured a spy.”
“Clever, my sister. I see I’m in good hands with you guarding my city.”
“There will always be more spies.”
“I know. Don’t worry about such things for now. Did you learn anything more about her brother?”
Kushanna accepted the change of subject. “Oh, yes, we found him working in the copper mine less than fifty miles from here. His name is Almaric, and he is Trella’s older brother. His wits were almost gone when Sohrab brought him here. But he’s recovering, and he may be of some use to us. At the very least we can exchange him for some gold. Or use him to distract Trella right before we strike. Much will depend on how much he recovers.”
“You’re sure you have the right slave?”
“Drusas remembers Trella, all right, and how he sold her to Nicar of Akkad. Apparently, Drusas felt himself bested in the exchange. She was still a virgin when Nicar took possession. Trella’s brother was sold to the Minga clan, who operated a silver mine about three days’ journey from Sumer. After a few years, he was sold again to a copper mine.”
Shulgi shrugged. “Let’s hope we can make use of him.”
“He will serve some purpose, of that I’m sure. Trella knows nothing of her brother’s fate. It might distract her at the right time.”
Shulgi considered that for a moment, then dismissed it from his thoughts. “And what of the Alur Meriki? Did you ever reach them?”
“Yes, it was difficult, but a meeting place was arranged. Who can we send to meet with them? It’s far too dangerous for you to go.”
“Well, Razrek claims he has dealt with them before. I’m sure he’s ready to visit the barbarians again.” He smiled. “By now he’s had enough of the desert. And what better way to prove your courage than to put your head in the lion’s mouth?”
“Then all that remains is to be patient, Shulgi. Assemble your forces, and train your men. When the time comes to strike, I’ll have all the supplies and food that will be needed.”
“I’m ready now, my sister. We could defeat Akkad today.”
“One more year. By then your army will have grown even stronger. At the end of next summer, as soon as our crops are in, you can strike.”
The harvest in Sumeria — if the gods acted as they normally did — would take place ten or twenty days before Akkad began to take its crops from the field. Sumeria’s warmer climate meant that her farmers would reap their harvest before the Akkadians. That would leave Eskkar’s men short of food at the start of the campaign. Still, a year seemed such a long time.
She guessed his thoughts. “It will come sooner than you think, my brother.”
“And what will my beautiful queen be doing in the coming year?”
“Helping you raise your mighty army. The other cities must prepare as well. They will each need to raise and arm thousands of men, and they will need to be trained as well. Our gold has already bought the support of their kings and ruling nobles. When you are ready, fighting men will march forth from Larsa and every other city, to follow your banner.”
“I will need to visit each of those cities, then, see to their training, meet with their rulers…”
“More than once, I’m sure, my brother. But when you ride into their strongholds at the head of your cavalry, strong and confident, all will accept your leadership.”
He nodded. Kushanna spoke the truth. Best to wait until victory was certain. “Then I will wait one more year. But starting tomorrow, we begin. I want every city in Sumeria to begin recruiting and training more men.”
“They will, my king. They will.”
34
Three months later…
Razrek licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, and tried to ignore the pain. One of his teeth felt loose. He probed it with his tongue and grimaced. His hands, bound tight behind his back, hurt even more than his swollen face. All this meant nothing compared to what was likely to come next. He lifted his eyes toward the tent where the leaders of the Alur Meriki had gone to talk, very likely deciding his fate.
At least Razrek hadn’t given in to his fear, not yet. He glanced at his two companions, brave enough men and willing to accompany him in a meeting with the barbarians. Both had already given themselves up for dead. They shook with fear as they knelt on either side of him, tied up as tightly as he was.
The carefully arranged meeting between Sumer and the Alur Meriki had gone horribly wrong from the beginning. Razrek had reached the agreed place early enough. After two days of waiting, a band of twenty warriors had galloped into his campsite just after sunrise. Razrek held up his empty hands and called out the name he’d been given — Urgo of the Alur Meriki.
Razrek might just have well shouted out his own name. The warriors burst upon the three of them. They were knocked to the ground and their weapons taken from them. Neither Razrek’s protests or curses made any difference. A vicious-looking warrior with a thick scar across his face led the group. The barbarians called him Rethnar. A clan leader, Razrek decided, identified by the small copper medallion hanging from his neck.
After a quick look, Rethnar shouted a few orders, and Razrek and his companions were lifted onto their horses and led off.
A long ride followed that lasted most of the day. Mid-afternoon had arrived when they crested a hill and Razrek saw the main camp of the Alur Meriki below him. Even Razrek’s eyes opened wide in wonder at the vast traveling village. He’d seen the camps of the Tanukhs and Salibs, but those desert tribesmen didn’t compare to the barbarians. At least a thousand horses, hundreds of wagons and tents, small herds of sheep, cattle and goats filled
