Battle For Empire

29

Climbing onto his horse a little after dawn, Sargon experienced a feeling of relief. The uncertainty of the last few days, the worry about first finding and then convincing the Alur Meriki had ended. The time for talking had passed as well. Now only the ride back to the Ur Nammu remained, and whatever fate awaited him.

Once again Den’rack rode with them, this time as a guide. Twenty men, under the command of a young warrior named Unegen, a member of Bekka’s Wolf Clan, accompanied them to guarantee a safe passage. Not even Trayack or his followers would presume to attack so many of their own.

Every rider led a second horse. As they started off, Sargon glanced to the rear, but he saw no horse boys. That meant the warriors expected to ride into battle.

Den’rack led the way, though Unegen had already sent two scouts ahead.

No one had much to say during the long day’s ride. Sargon worried about Tashanella, while his companions no doubt worried about their kin. For all he knew, the Carchemishi had already caught up with the Ur Nammu. Everyone Sargon knew or cared about might already be dead.

The thought of Tashanella enduring an even worse fate than dying gnawed at his chest. A beautiful young girl, beaten into submission and suitably trained, would fetch a good price at any slave market. Sargon had seen many such girls many times, in Akkad’s own slave market.

That reminded him of his mother. Trella, too, had once been a slave, a fact that had embarrassed Sargon often enough as he grew up. Of course, no one had ever spoken of it to his face, but the unspoken words no doubt influenced his friends’ attitude toward his family. For the first time, he wondered if his mother had ever stood naked in a slave market.

As the sun touched the horizon, Den’rack finally gave the signal to halt. They had reached a small pond fed from beneath the ground. Sargon knew they could have covered a few more miles before darkness, but the presence of fresh water made for a good camp site.

They had not passed this place on the way in. Before Sargon could ask, Den’rack walked over and explained to Sargon and his companions that this route would take them over easier ground. Then he returned to his own warriors.

Fashod, who had ridden over these lands years ago, agreed with Den’rack. “I don’t remember this watering hole, but the trail we’re taking shortens our journey by about twenty miles. When we first met up with Den’rack and his men, they had just finished the southeast to northwest leg on their patrol. With plenty of water, the horses should hold up better.”

No one replied. They would either arrive in time to help in the fight, or they would be forced to take their revenge alone.

After a cold supper, Sargon spread his blanket. But before he could roll himself up, the leader of the Alur Meriki, Unegen, crossed over from where his warriors had settled down.

“I heard your words last night at the Council Meeting, Sargon of Akkad.” Unegen squatted on the ground beside Sargon. “I fought against your father at the stream, and I was the one who first brought the news to Thutmose-sin of the one you call Hathor. Many in our clan, and even more in the others, doubted Bekka’s decision, despite the fact that he was outnumbered, to yield the stream to Hathor’s men. When you described the strength of the Akkadians, many who heard your words realized that Bekka had made the right choice.”

“Chief Bekka has much wisdom,” Sargon agreed, wondering where this was leading.

“He has taught me much,” Unegen said. “I have less than twenty-three seasons, but already I am a leader of twenty.”

Sargon’s hadn’t thought the man so young.

“And now,” Unegen went on, “those who had doubts about Bekka becoming Sarum, including myself, no longer feel that way. He will make a good Sarum.”

“I hope your people and mine can keep peace between us.”

Unegen snorted. “Once I would never have thought such a thing. But the old days are gone. Thutmose-sin believed that he could hold back the dirt eaters, destroy their farms and villages to keep them weak. He failed, and now your cities have grown too strong. A new way must be found. I wept when your father killed Thutmose-sin, but I see that as long as he ruled our clan, many more warriors would have faced death, and for nothing.”

“You are wise beyond your years, Unegen of the Alur Meriki. Perhaps some day, you will be the Sarum of your clan.”

Unegen laughed, a cheerful sound that contrasted with his sober demeanor. “I think that would be a bad day for my people. But I wish you well in your quest, Sargon, son of Eskkar.” He rose and returned to his warriors.

“The next Sarum of the Alur Meriki,” Fashod, sitting only a few paces away, had heard their words, “talking to the next ruler of Akkad.”

“I will never rule in Akkad.” Sargon uttered the words with conviction. “My father has sent me from his house, and I have no wish to return there.”

“As time passes, boys turn into men and learn wisdom, and even fathers relent their angry words. No man knows what the future will bring. A few days ago, we believed we were riding to our deaths.”

“We’ll know our fates soon enough.” As Sargon rolled himself up in his blanket, that thought remained in his head. Though to his surprise, the idea of his death did not trouble him as much as his concern for Tashanella.

Three days later, just after midday, Sargon and his companions neared the end of their journey. One of Unegen’s scouts came galloping back toward the main party, waving his arms. Sargon, riding just behind Unegen, with Fashod and Den’rack on either side, heard the scout’s report.

The Carchemishi were only a few miles ahead, and two Alur Meriki patrols, one of them the men Den’rack had left behind, were keeping them under observation. Yassur, a leader of ten in the Serpent Clan, had taken command of the observing scouts.

Unegen frowned at the all too brief report. He ordered the scout to return to his position, and the rest of the bone-weary riders continued on.

Every man, every horse, had been pushed to its limit. Two horses had gone lame, and had to be abandoned. But despite his fatigue, Sargon took comfort in one matter — he had guided and cared for his mounts, and ridden just as hard as any of the warriors.

The months of incessant riding and training under Garal had come to fruition. The highest praise came from the fact that no one noticed or commented on his riding skills. The Alur Meriki, he decided, had accepted him as Eskkar’s son, and thus no longer considered him a dirt eater.

Less than three miles passed before they reached the first Alur Meriki patrol, the one commanded by Yassur. Unegen’s scout had informed these outriders about the Ur Nammu and Sargon. Still, Yassur stared with open curiosity at the strangers, apparently fully accepted as equals, who rode in with Unegen.

Unegen swung down from his horse with a grunt of relief. “What can you tell us?”

For a moment Yassur appeared taken aback at the sight of Sargon, a dirt eater, and Fashod, an Ur Nammu warrior, moving up to stand beside Unegen and Den’rack.

Yassur recovered soon enough. “The main force of the enemy caught up with the Ur Nammu yesterday. The Ur Nammu have taken refuge on a hilltop less than three miles away, and are now surrounded by the invaders. That is why we’ve remained here, behind this hill. Their patrols don’t come this far east or ride into the hills.”

“Can we see them?” Unegen glanced up at the hill.

“Yes, you can see everything from here.” Yassur led the way on foot, scrambling back and forth as he guided them toward the summit. Just before the crest, he threw himself down and crawled the last few steps, until he could peer out at the plain beyond.

Sargon and the others followed his example. Looking west, he saw the Carchemishi forces, formed in a ring around the base of a lone plateau that pushed itself up from the earth. Only flat ground surrounded it. The hill rose up about two hundred paces above the valley floor, and appeared to have only one gentle slope, facing north, where a horse and rider could make the ascent.

From Sargon’s vantage point, he saw the hundreds, even thousands, of Carchemishi who encircled the plateau, most of them concentrated near the north face and its slope to the top. The hill, with its single entry, made for a good defensive position. There might be other trails to reach the summit on the far side, but Sargon couldn’t see any from here.

Still, if the hill provided a good place for defense, it also allowed the Ur Nammu to be surrounded and trapped. It would be impossible for Subutai’s warriors to break out, even if they wanted to, without a desperate fight.

But Sargon and his companions wanted to break in, not out, so that problem wasn’t as important for now. “How many invaders are there?”

Yassur lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. “At least seventeen hundred, maybe two thousand. More than half of them are mounted, which is why they caught up with the Ur Nammu so quickly. Those on foot only arrived this morning, along with a long pack train of horses and some carts. Women and children are there, too.”

Women invariably followed soldiers, traveling with them and helping carry weapons and supplies. To any army in the field, they were both a benefit and a curse. They helped their men, but they consumed food and slowed down the pace of any march. In the war against Sumer, Eskkar had ordered women out of the ranks several times.

When he heard the numbers of the enemy, Sargon exchanged glances with Fashod. The two Carchemishi bands must have joined, and they appeared even more numerous than expected.

“Why haven’t the Carchemishi attacked?”

“The Ur Nammu aren’t going anywhere, and there is only the one approach,” Yassur explained. “But the only water nearby is a tiny stream that flows from the base of the ridge, and so now the Ur Nammu have no water. The invaders can afford to wait a few more days, until the Ur Nammu are weakened by thirst. Then they will either surrender or be destroyed.”

Unegen turned to Fashod. “How many warriors do the Ur Nammu have?”

“Subutai has less than three hundred warriors,” Fashod said, “not counting some boys and old men who might be able to fight. But there are over a thousand people up there. They will not last long without water.”

“We cannot attack until Bekka arrives.” Unegen informed Yassur about their Sarum’s decision to attack the invaders. “But he will not be here for another few days. Meanwhile, we must gather as much information as we can about the enemy.”

“Is there a way for us to rejoin our people?” Fashod spoke directly to Yassur.

“Not during the day. As far as we can see, all the approaches to the hilltop are surrounded. The ascent at the southern end seems to be the least guarded. It’s steep, but you might be able to climb up there after dark.”

“Then we will go tonight.” Fashod turned to Sargon. “But you do not need to come with us. You can still return to your own people.”

Sargon had no intention of leaving Tashanella. “No. We go in together.”

“So be it.” Fashod shifted his gaze back to Yassur. “We can spend the day studying the approaches.”

“We were thinking about capturing one or two Carchemishi,” Yassur told Unegen. “We might learn much that would help Chief Bekka when he arrives.”

Sargon watched as Unegen thought about that for a moment.

“No, we don’t want these invaders to look to the east,” Unegen said. “Better to have them thinking only about the Ur Nammu.”

“As long as they watch the hilltop, we should be able to slip through their lines,” Fashod said. “They will not be expecting anyone to try and break in. When they settle down for the night, we’ll see what trail looks best.” He took one last look at the distant plateau. “Now we should rest. We’ll need all our strength tonight.”

They slipped back below the crest and returned to the camp. Unegen and Yassur decided to send out more scouts, and prepare for Bekka’s arrival.

Fashod and the other Ur Nammu ignored the activity, and dropped to the ground to get some sleep. Sargon followed, though he doubted he could get much rest. Tashanella was close by, and he might not be able to reach her. Despite Fashod’s confidence, it would be difficult to get past so many guards.

In spite of his worries, exhaustion overcame his thoughts and he slipped into a deep but troubled slumber.

Across the space that separated Sargon and the Ur Nammu from the Alur Meriki, Yassur turned to Unegen and Den’rack. “Is he really the son of the outcast Eskkar? Are the Ur Nammu now our friends?”

Unegen lifted his hands and let them drop. He related what had passed at the council meeting to Yassur and his men, who gathered around, eager to hear the news.

“So, Chief Bekka decided that it helps our clan to help the Ur Nammu. And it will do no harm to have Akkad in our debt. Besides, Trayack wanted to kill them all. Perhaps that is why Bekka is helping them.”

Yassur shook his head and spat on the ground. “Always the clan chiefs quarrel amongst themselves. Each one wants to be Sarum, no matter how many dead warriors it takes. Look at Bekka. A few years ago, he was a leader of fifty. Now he is Sarum.”

“Well, when you are a clan leader,” Unegen said, “you may hold different thoughts. As for me, I trust Bekka more than I ever trusted Thutmose-sin.”

“And this boy, Sargon,” Den’rack spoke for the first time, “there is something about him. He’s as foolish as he is brave, but he knows the ways of a leader. I’m glad I did not kill him when I had the chance.”

“Yes, killing him would have saved us a long ride,” Unegen said, his voice as cheerful as if he were talking about a hunt. “Well, it’s too late for that now. It’s time to get ready for battle.”

Sargon was the last to awaken from his sleep. When he did, he saw Fashod and his companions had started up the hill, to take one final look at the Carchemishi. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sargon followed them up the slope and dropped to ground alongside Garal. Sargon’s eyes widened at the sight across the plain.

Campfires burned every hundred paces or so in a ring around the base of the hill. Tending them were hundreds of Carchemishi fighters, weapons at the ready, should the Ur Nammu try to come down the hill, either to attack or break through the lines.

Two hundred paces behind the ring of men, almost on a direct line between the Alur Meriki vantage point and the Ur Nammu plateau, a herd of horses had been collected into a makeshift corral. More armed men guarded the animals, with patrols extending out halfway to the ridge where Sargon lay on his stomach.

“We won’t be able to sneak up and steal their horses again,” Garal whispered. “Our night raid has made them wary.”

Sargon remembered how nervous he’d been that night, not that long ago, just standing there and holding the riders’ mounts. “How will we get by them?”

“Fashod thinks that on the south side, the hill is too steep for horses or armed men to come down, but a few might be able to climb up.”

Sargon wasn’t so sure. The location was a long way off. They would have to swing wide of the patrols to approach from the south.

“Maybe Unegen can create a diversion?”

“Good idea. Fashod suggested it, too,” Garal said, “but Unegen says no. He thinks this place is perfect for an attack against the enemy’s herd. He doesn’t want to do anything to make the invaders aware of his presence.”

“That’s a big herd, at least eight or nine hundred horses.” Sargon studied the herd. No wonder Unegen wanted to raid it. Sargon’s father had said many times that, to barbarians, stealing horses from your enemy was more impressive than killing them.

“The ground on the far side of the hill must not be favorable to hold a herd,” Garal mused. “Except for the men riding night patrol, Yassur says they’ve collected all of their horses at this one place.”

“There must be another hundred riders on patrol,” Sargon estimated. Still, the horse herd meant nothing to Sargon. He shifted his gaze back to the south, to examine the open space they would have to cross. His father had often spoken of the importance of studying the ground as best you could before any venture.

Fashod moved up beside them. “Come. It’s almost time to go, and we need to prepare.”

He led the way down the slope, and they collected their weapons. Fashod ran his sharpening stone over his sword a few times, then passed it to Sargon, who did the same. Unegen joined them, carrying a quiver of arrows. “Each of my men has given up a few arrows, so you can have a full quiver. You may need the extra shafts when you reach the top.”

Garal and Jennat had already strung their bows and slipped them over their shoulders. Now they, too, sharpened their swords. Sargon slung his lance across his back.

Den’rack appeared, carrying a water skin in one hand and a food sack in the other. “Eat and drink as much as you can now. Don’t take any food with you. There will be plenty of fresh meat up there.”

It took Sargon a moment to follow the thought. A few slaughtered horses could supply plenty of raw meat. Sargon didn’t enjoy the prospect, though his father’s men had been forced to eat a few horses at the battle of the stream.

Yassur joined them. “My men will guide you in. We’ll swing wide to the east before turning toward the hilltop. We should be able to ride within a mile without being seen or heard.”

A few more moments, and they were ready.

“Good luck to you.” Unegen clasped arms with Fashod, the gesture of friendship. “Tell your Sarum to hold out until Chief Bekka arrives. That should give you the chance to break loose. When you can wait no longer, give us the sign. We may be able to help.”

Sargon realized that Fashod and Unegen must have arranged a way to signal to the Alur Meriki.

Fashod nodded. “I understand. Tell all your men we are in your debt.”

Jennat and Garal also offered their thanks to Unegen and his men. Then Sargon faced the Alur Meriki leaders. “Good hunting to you, Den’rack, and to you, Unegen.”

“Until we meet again, Sargon of Akkad.” Den’rack’s voice sounded as confident as his words.

They mounted their horses and moved out, taking position behind Unegen. They let the animals pick their own pace through the darkness. Yassur, on foot, led the way, selecting the best path over the indistinct ground. The moon had risen, but it was young and shed little light. However, what hindered them now would help them soon enough.

As they moved slowly through the shadows, Sargon glanced up at the stars. His father often spoke about the stars and what they meant for men. Sargon had always considered his father’s ideas foolish, despite the fact that many of Akkad’s wise men said much the same.

Now, lifting his eyes to the night sky, Sargon wasn’t so sure. The stars could not be counted, and he knew that some wandered across the sky, moving little by little until a year passed, and they returned to the place from which they started.

“What are you looking at?” Garal rode right behind him.

“Nothing. Just the stars.” Sargon took one last at the sky. He wondered what his father thought about before he rode into battle. Strange that Sargon had never thought to ask him that simple question. Now it was too late.