Clash Of Empires

Chapter 19

The next morning, Daro glanced up, and saw that the sun had climbed high in the blue sky. Mid day approached, as he, King Naxos, and Hathor emerged from the last of the hills and strode onto the grassy dunes that bordered the beach. The commanders left their men and horses back in the hills, hopefully out of sight and out of earshot of anyone on the sandy shore.

The expedition’s long journey through the foothills had ended, only six or seven days later than planned. For better or worse, the first part of Eskkar’s plan to save the City of Sumer from the Elamites had begun.

A few hundred paces away, the low waves rolled gently onto the white sandy shore, broken here and there by a scattering of black rocks spattered with bird droppings. Daro led the way toward two large boulders that marked the end of the hill country. Luka stood there, waiting for them. The slinger had just returned from his second scouting mission. Now the time had arrived for King Naxos and Hathor, as leaders of the expedition, to see and hear for themselves what lay before them.

The four men clambered to the top of the westernmost boulder. While not very high, it overlooked the tall grass, and they could see a mile or more of the shore in either direction. Both the shoreline and the gently rolling sea remained empty of life, except for the noisy gray and white sea birds that circled raucously overhead searching for food, swooping and gliding over the land.

The intoxicating sea smells washed over the four men, a blessing after the baking sun and horse stink that had accompanied their slow journey through the mountains.

Daro nodded to Luka. The two men, thrown together for the last two months, had become friends. The taciturn Orodes, in charge of breaking through the mountains, had kept to himself. Without a backward glance or a word of goodbye, let alone mention of good luck in their coming battle, Orodes and his men had departed just after midmorning. They would retrace their steps through the mountains and hopefully reach Akkad before the Elamites could lay siege to the city.

“What did you see?” King Naxos’s gruff voice cut short Luka’s greeting.

“The cove where the Elamites landed is a little less than three miles to the west, right where Yavtar said it would be.” Luka pointed with his arm. “The beach here was empty yesterday afternoon, so I waited until dark and then went along the coast. The Elamite camp was easy to see. I counted four or five campfires, so it must be big. I didn’t try to get too close. But I could see that supplies are piled up all over the beach.”

“Did you see any ships?” Daro, unlike Hathor, King Naxos, and their horsemen, had a very different mission.

“Not last night. I couldn’t be sure from the light of the fires. But this morning when I went back, I counted eight or nine boats beached on the sand, just above the water line. They look big, too, bigger than what we usually see on the Tigris. Each vessel had at least one tall mast. But no ships have passed this way today.”

Many of the boats that plied the Tigris and Euphrates boasted a small sail, but those that sailed over the Great Sea often relied on taller and stronger masts to harness the wind.

“So many boats!” Daro couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

“I thought that would interest you,” Luka said.

Boats that made the journey along the coast line of the Great Sea had to be bigger and more rugged than the river boats that plied the relatively tame waters of the Tigris, Euphrates, or the other countless streams that crossed the land. More than a few river sailors had drowned until they recognized the fact that waves on the Great Sea could swamp the smaller boats.

That necessitated constructing larger and sturdier boats, which carried heavier cargoes and manned by larger crews, probably ten or twelve men to each ship. Even so, the boats hugged the shore as much as possible.

When Daro had first heard the term, “hugging the shore,” Yavtar had explained that meant riding the sea anywhere from a half mile to two miles off the beach, to avoid the low lying rocks and powerful breakers. Not to mention the shallows near the shoreline where waves might roll a vessel over.

“If we can capture those boats,” Daro said, “we can help cut the Elamite supply line.”

“You know we won’t be able to come back for you if you get into trouble.” Hathor made it a simple statement, not a warning.

Daro grinned at that. “You’ll likely find more trouble than I will.”

“What about the Elamite forces at the camp?” Naxos, impatient as ever, ignored Daro and kept his gaze on Luka.

Daro knew the boats meant nothing to Naxos, nor did the King have much interest in Daro’s plan for them. Still, Daro felt some sympathy for Naxos. The man had a daunting task of his own to deal with, and it had nothing to do with ships. The King of Isin had to worry about the twelve thousand or more enemy soldiers who might already have captured Sumer. Or if the Akkadians had been betrayed or detected, the Elamites might be just out of sight beyond the cove, waiting for Naxos and his soldiers to appear.

With luck, however, the enemy would believe their spies’ latest reports, and think that King Naxos and his horsemen had departed toward the west, to attack the city of Lagash.

“From the campfires, King Naxos,” Luka repeated, “I think they have less than three hundred men at most. Probably more than half of them sailors.”

King Naxos, in charge of the cavalry, had brought twenty-six hundred riders with him, nearly every mounted fighter he and his city could muster. Hathor and Akkad had contributed fifteen hundred more, almost half of all the Akkadian horse fighters. Another eight hundred horsemen came from Sumer, dispatched to the northern lands in small groups long before the enemy arrived.

All together, close to five thousand cavalry lay hidden in the hills behind the Akkadian leaders. If Eskkar’s luck still held, the Elamites knew nothing about this unseen force at their rear.

It also meant that these Elamites guarding the beach must be overwhelmed before they could send warning to their companions of the Akkadian presence.

Daro knew that for Naxos to have any chance of success, he needed to catch the enemy by surprise. The Elamite army, now encamped around Sumer’s walls, far outnumbered Naxos’s fighters. The cavalry he led might be behind the invaders, but should the Elamites discover this danger lurking in their rear, they would whirl around fast enough, and then Naxos would be the one with the sea at his back.

If that happened, it wouldn’t take much misfortune for the combined horsemen of Akkad and Isin to be trapped against the seacoast and destroyed.

Naxos stared at the empty windswept beach. As the moments passed, Daro wondered whether the King of Isin wished he and his men had remained safe behind their city’s walls. Even now, he might be considering turning around and retracing his steps through the foothills. Hathor and the Akkadians would stay, of course, and probably the Sumerians.

Hathor finally broke the silence. “The soldiers guarding the ships matter little. If we can finish them off before they can send a warning, the Elamites won’t know we’re here.”

Naxos shook off whatever gloomy thoughts had troubled him. “You’re right. We need the food and water anyway. At least we’ll be finished with these damned hills. We’ll move out as soon as the men are ready.”

The King of Isin, away from the treacherous mountains at last, seemed more relaxed. The prospect of fighting against a superior force apparently didn’t bother him.

As Daro watched, Hathor and Naxos scratched out lines on the top of the boulder, and went over the assignments and the order of march one last time. When they finished, Luka dashed off back into the hills, to bring the vanguard of the cavalry down to the beach. It would take time for the entire force to work its way through the last part of the narrow trail and assemble here.

Hathor turned to Daro. “Are you and your men ready? You’ll be on your own.”

“Better that, than galloping across the country,” Daro laughed. “My men are archers and boatmen, not horse fighters. As long as we can capture at least two boats, we’ll take our chances on the sea.”

“Then we’d better get moving.” Naxos turned his face away from the sea. “Hathor, post lookouts, and let’s get the men formed up as soon as we can. The quicker I get away from these damned hills, the better.”

“Remember, we just need to make sure that none of the boats get into the water,” Daro said. “If even one of them escapes to the sea, it will put all of us in danger.”

“We’ll do our best,” Hathor said. “You’ll ride with us?”

“Oh, yes. I need to see the boats, and I might have to get two or three of them into the water as quickly as possible. If any do escape, I might have to pursue. Hopefully, by the time we’re ready, no more will be arriving so late in the day.”

By mid afternoon, the last of King Naxos’s force finally emerged from the hills and joined the march westward. The long column of horses plodded along, not on the sandy beach, but farther inland, along the grassy belt that sprouted at the base of the hills.

A refreshing sea breeze in the men’s faces marked a dramatic change from the hot and still air of the mountains. For the first time in many days, the soldiers felt at ease. Even the prospect of a fierce battle against a numerically superior force didn’t seem to give them any concern.

The horsemen rode in two thick columns, with riders four abreast in each column. Despite the eight man wide front, the double line of horsemen stretched back almost a mile and a half.

Naxos wanted a slow pace, which made sense to Daro, who rode beside Hathor at the head of the column closest to the water. The Elamite army had trodden this same path, and hopefully the men at the beach would think this new approaching force just another, late arriving, part of the army. After all, Daro reasoned, enemies would not approach at a walk.

Soon the enemy camp could be seen, and Daro took a quick count. Eleven boats, far more than he had expected, lay in a jagged line on the sandy beach, out of the surf and well above the high water mark.

He saw no signs of crews loading or unloading cargoes, so the work must be finished for the day. Some of the empty boats likely would push out to sea and set sail for Elam at first light tomorrow. No doubt the others waited for Sumer to fall, so they could stuff their holds with captured loot before returning home.

Now, however, the boat masters and their sailors rested from their long voyage. With any luck, Daro prayed, half of them would be swilling wine or ale stolen from the cargo. The more he thought about it, Daro decided that many of them would be drunk. Sailors had uncanny skills at tapping into and skimming portions of the kegs, skins, or jars that carried ale and wine intended solely for the army’s commanders.

The blue waves topped with white foam of the Great Sea beat and fell upon the shore, moving back and forth with a powerful regularity that drew the eye. The sounds of the surf rumbling onto the sand added to the pleasant ride. Cool air blew off the water, refreshing soldiers who had sweltered among the rocks during the long journey south. Even the horses showed more spirit, apparently enjoying the softer mix of sand and grass beneath their hooves.

By now Daro could see the entire cove. No one in the camp paid any attention to their approach. He reminded himself that thousands of Elamite soldiers had made the same journey along the coast, and this would appear to be just one more contingent of soldiers joining the campaign.

Daro kept his position alongside Hathor. The column closest to the water was comprised of Akkadians. Naxos led the second column. All the men had been ordered to ride slumped on their horses, and to look both weary and bored, as if they had just completed a long journey. The King had also warned them not to gape like fools at the sight of the water, the first time most of these men had ever seen the Great Sea.

“Might as well turn toward them,” Naxos called out. He led the column closest to the hills. “We’d be expected to stop and talk.”

By now they were within five hundred paces of the camp. Two pennants flew about fifty paces apart, one yellow with black trim, and the other crimson with some emblem stitched in its center. As Daro watched, two men swung up onto horses and trotted out to meet them.

Without turning his head, Hathor gave the first order. “Pass the word. No one is to reach for a weapon until I give the command. ”

The two Elamites cantering toward them suspected nothing. One wore a brightly colored cloth wrapped around his head, with a glistening gemstone set in the fastening band. A sword hung from his waist. The other, unarmed, looked more like a servant than a guard. Daro surmised they were used to seeing strange folk in their empire. They halted their horses twenty paces from the head of the column. Naxos raised his right arm, and the vanguard eased their horses to a stop.

The leader of the Elamites spoke, his words an odd combination of gutturals and higher pitched sounds. Daro, though fluent in the language of southern Elam, had trouble understanding the meaning. Naxos didn’t bother to reply to their incomprehensible language. Instead he kicked his horse into motion, drawing his sword as the same time.

For a moment, the man just stared at the horse and rider rushing toward him, flashing death in his hand. The Elamite didn’t know whether to draw his sword or turn to flee. Before he could do either, Naxos’s sword swung down, striking at the base of the man’s neck.

Hathor, too, had urged his horse forward. But he reached for his lance, swinging it up in a smooth motion that bespoke years of practice. The servant, his eyes wide with shock, whirled his horse around, but before he could get it to a gallop, Hathor’s powerful arm flung the bronze tipped weapon, and Daro saw it bury itself into the man’s back.

With a roar, the entire column surged forward. Daro saw horses flash by him on either side, as the better riders overtook him. Nevertheless, he followed Hathor who headed directly toward the gap between the water and the boats. The Akkadians had their orders — to seize those vessels and kill their crews.

Naxos, meanwhile, led his horsemen straight ahead. The first few hundred riders would swing past the Elamite camp, to prevent any chance of their fleeing toward Sumer and their allies. Only when that escape route was closed would he and his men turn and attack.

The riders had nearly reached the camp before the Elamites grasped the horror approaching them. Many were sailors, porters, and camp followers. Little more than a hundred fighting men found themselves facing thousands of fast charging horsemen.

Panic reigned, as the Elamites rushed about. Some reached for weapons, others tried to get to their horses. But by then, hundreds of Akkadian cavalry had galloped past, cutting off any way of escape. A few of the Elamites tried to fight their way through, while others rode into the surf, but they never had a chance. Akkadian bowmen soon brought down all those attempting to flee. Soon blood stained the sands, as the Elamites died, most without ever striking a blow against their attackers.

The crews of the ships reacted faster than the soldiers. They rushed back to their boats, frantic to get them into the water and away from the shore.

But they, too, had no time. Hathor’s men tore into the gap between the surf and the boats resting high on the beach, the Akkadian horses kicking up great gouts of sand. Lances and arrows flew through the air, striking down any man that moved.

This was not battle, just the easy slaughter of the ships’ crews, most of whom knew little about fighting. Some Elamites fled up the beach, gaining a few more moments of life before the horsemen rode them down. Others dashed into the surf, but the waves pushed them back, and the Akkadian bowmen finished them off.

The Akkadians had their orders. Kill everyone in their path. Daro wanted all those sailors dead, and Hathor had issued another order to his commanders — thrust a lance into every throat. None of their foes could be allowed to fake death, or hide beneath the bodies of others.

Daro reached the first of the boats, his horse splashing in the wet sand behind the craft. He continued on, until he’d ridden past every one of the vessels, sword in hand and peering into each one, to make sure no Elamite sailors could get a craft into the water. He ignored the clash of weapons and cries of the dying that continued further up the beach, where Naxos and his men finished hunting down the last of the invaders.

Daro finished his quick examination of the boats. By then, his one hundred and twenty Akkadian bowmen had arrived and surrounded the ships. Though all of them knew how to ride, they were not experienced horse fighters, and Hathor had ordered them to the rear.

Daro hadn’t minded. The arrangement meant that none of his carefully selected archers, all of whom had experience on river boats, had risked an injury in the fighting.

As the first of his men dismounted, Daro sent them onboard the vessels, to make sure no Elamites hid among the ballast. Meanwhile, he selected the three largest and sturdiest boats, and ordered them to be dragged closer to the water. Daro wanted them ready to be launched at a moment’s notice.

Each boat he selected stretched longer than any river boat in Yavtar’s fleet, with a wider beam and taller sides as well. All three looked sturdily built, strong enough to withstand the waves of the Great Sea. Unlike the clumsy Apikin, Daro recalled, as he nodded in satisfaction.

“Leave the rest of the boats where they are, but stave out the bottoms. Make sure none of them ever goes to sea again. Keep the hulls intact, but rip out every plank and board within. Collect every paddle, rope, and sail, too. We’ll need them.”

By now all of Daro’s bowmen had reached the water’s edge. He had more orders for them. Their supply of extra bows and shafts, laboriously transported all the way from Akkad, were to be divided up and loaded onboard the three captured craft.

That finished, his bowmen formed a line to carry water skins, food, and anything else needed to keep the three boats afloat and ready to fight. Fortunately, the stacks of fresh supplies that covered the beach, intended to support the Elamite army at Sumer, provided everything Daro needed for his small force, and in more than sufficient quantity.

Next he divided up his men, forty to each ship. That was a large contingent, but since the boats carried no cargo, there should be just enough room for that many to work the ship and fight. With so many extra men plying the oars, the boats would race through the sea, faster than any cargo vessel.

Hathor rode up just as the initial frenzy of loading supplies and weapons ended. “I see you found more boats than you expected.”

Daro grinned. “These three,” he pointed toward the boats now resting on the wet sand, “are bigger and better than anything I expected. My sailors will need to learn how to handle ships this size.”

“Well, don’t drown them all at once.” Hathor gestured toward the cavalry. “Naxos is already regrouping the men. We’re pushing on ahead. There’s still plenty of daylight left, and Naxos doesn’t want to risk anyone getting by us after dark.”

“Any word on the Elamites?”

Hathor nodded. “Yes, the last of the army passed through here six days ago. By now, the entire army is outside Sumer.”

Sumer lay less than a full day of hard riding from here.

“Leave us a few horses,” Daro said, “so we can get word to you if any more Elamites show up.”

“I’ll do better than that. Naxos wanted to take all the extra horses with us, but he agreed you can have five. I told him it would look odd if someone shows up and there were no horses about.”

Sixteen horses had been in a rope corral, which had somehow remained intact.

“Good. We can use them to drag the bodies away.”

“I never thought about the dead bodies.” Hathor shook his head. “There’s always something you don’t think of, isn’t there?”

“Well, I can’t leave them lying about. No boat master with eyes in his head would land his ship on a battlefield.”

“I’ll leave you the prisoners we found. We took two men alive, and the older one looks like some kind of merchant or trader. See what you can wring out of them. If it’s anything useful, send word.” Hathor whirled his horse around. “I’ve got to get back to Naxos. He wants me to stay close, so he can keep an eye on me.”

“Don’t forget these.” Daro handed him the two pennants that had flown over the camp. “My men picked them up. They’re a little dirty, but you might find a use for them.”

“Ah, good idea.” Hathor reached down and grasped the pennants. “And to think that Yavtar told me you couldn’t find your prick in the dark.”

Daro laughed. “Good hunting, Hathor.”

With a wave, the Egyptian touched his heels to his horse and rode off in a flurry of sand.

In moments, the last of the cavalry, now moving at a respectable canter, disappeared behind the sand dunes to the west. Four of Daro’s men arrived, pulling along two prisoners at the end of a rope, their hands bound before them. His bowmen looked annoyed, no doubt unwilling to be guarding insignificant prisoners.

Daro glanced at the two captured men. Both had blood splattered over their tunics, though neither appeared to have more than minor injuries. Neither bothered to keep up any pretense of courage. Fear gripped them both, and the older one couldn’t control the occasional shiver that made his arms tremble.

“Keep them apart,” Daro ordered. He had no time for them now. “Make sure they don’t talk or escape.”

He climbed into one of the beached boats, and gazed around the cove. Bodies littered the beach, and the roiled sand would tell anyone at a glance that a battle had been fought here. The dead needed to be concealed. The best place for them would be the Great Sea, but the bodies would soon wash up on shore, or float along the coast, as likely toward any approaching Elamite ship as not.

Daro sighed. Lifting his eyes from the shoreline, he stared across the grassy belt that butted up against the low hills, about five hundred paces away. Damn the gods, why couldn’t the camp have been closer to the hills.

“Get all the ropes you can find, and bring up the horses. We’re going to drag the dead inland, behind the grass and those hills.”

Months ago, at Eskkar’s war council in Akkad, Daro had first learned of the daring plan to save Sumer. Yavtar had also attended the meeting. The old sailor had provided estimates of the numbers of boats that would be needed to keep the Elamite supplies flowing until Sumer could be taken.

The discussion of the coastal shipping had given Yavtar an idea to strike a hard blow against the enemy. Seize a few boats, destroy the rest of them, and use the captured ships to patrol the sea and prevent further supplies from landing. If successful, the lack of supplies would help weaken the invading enemy.

The war council talked about such a venture for most of the day, before Eskkar agreed to it. Daro, the logical choice for such a daring plan, had joined Orodes’s expedition, commanding the small force of soldiers accompanying the Master Miner. Now Daro, by patrolling the seacoast, would try to help King Naxos and Hathor in their coming fight. Unlike the rest of the cavalry force, Daro had brought with him a troop of one hundred and twenty archers, almost all of them with some experience on Akkad’s fighting river boats.

“As long as they can keep up with us, they can come,” Naxos had declared at the war council. “If they can cause some mischief with the enemy supplies, so much the better.”

Daro recognized the doubt in King Naxos’s voice. The King of Isin had little expectation that Daro’s efforts would amount to much.

And so the river archers had walked their horses all the way from Akkad to the sea, following the cavalry, and stepping through endless piles of horse droppings the entire distance. Daro’s small troop of bowmen wouldn’t be of much use in the coming battle north of Akkad or even at Sumer, but here, on the beach, they just might fulfill a much larger role.

As Daro glanced around at the ruins of the enemy camp, he knew the first part of the plan had gone perfectly. His men had captured three large and sturdy ships, vessels capable of moving with ease through the powerful coastal flows of the Great Sea. Just as important, they also had all the weapons, food, and water they might need. The more difficult part had just begun — putting the ships into the water and preparing them for war.

By nightfall, Daro could barely stand. He’d raced his horse back and forth across the beach too many times to count. Fifty paces behind the dunes his men found a small ravine, and soon began dumping the bodies, with the help of the horses. Daro had to order a few men into the pit with the bodies, to arrange them as close together as possible, so that no space was wasted.

When the last Elamite body slid into the ravine, the men scooped and kicked sand over the dead. It wasn’t much of a grave, but they managed to at least cover the corpses. In the morning, Daro would have them do a better job, collecting more sand and tossing as many rocks as possible over the bodies. He didn’t want a flock of sea or carrion birds screaming and circling over the site, alerting any observer that something was amiss.

Daro finally trudged over to the two prisoners, starting with the common sailor first. Daro sat down on the sand facing the man, his face still streaked with dried blood.

“What’s your name?” Daro spoke in the common language, used by sailors and traders along the coast of the Great Sea.

“Pettraka, Lord.”

“Would you like some water?” The prisoner looked as dry as the sand beneath him.

“Yes, Lord. Please.”

Daro glanced at the guard and held out his hand. The bored soldier tossed over a water skin. Daro quenched his own thirst, but made no move to share any with the prisoner.

“Tell me about the boats. When is the next boat coming?”

“I. . I don’t know, Lord. I’m just an oarsman. All I do is row.”

“Show me your hands.”

The man lifted his bound hands. Daro saw the thick calluses that covered his palms and fingers, and the powerful muscles in his arms. A simple rower.

With a few questions, Daro learned all he needed. The man’s ship had arrived in the early afternoon, carrying food and grain for the horses. The sailor knew nothing else of value.

Daro stood, and handed the man the water skin. “From now on, you will row for Akkad, if you wish to live.” He let the man have a few swallows, enough to quench his thirst, then pulled the skin from his grasping hands. Daro didn’t want the prisoner to regain his strength just yet.

The beach still bustled with activity. The ships, their bottoms hacked out, remained useful as a source of fire wood. Their deck planks would also make excellent shields. The men had discovered two saws, and were busy cutting the wood.

Daro strolled over to where the second prisoner sat. One look at the man’s tunic, and Daro knew Hathor had indeed captured either a ship captain or one of the beach commanders. Again he eased himself to the sand, this time stretching out his legs. He glanced at the man’s parched lips and jiggled the water skin.

“Your name?” This time Daro spoken in the language of the Elam.

The man, of about forty seasons, licked his dry lips and glanced around the beach, as if searching for help. Matted sand still clung to his hair and beard, both speckled with gray. His once fine tunic revealed that he had soiled himself, either from fright or because the guards hadn’t allowed him to move since he’d been captured.

“If you won’t talk, then you’re of no use to me. I’ll have you beaten to death.”

“And if I do talk to you?”

The hoarse words, spoken in Akkadian, came out in a rasp, and with only the slightest trace of an accent. Daro smiled at his good fortune. “First, you’ll have some water to drink. Then, if your words are helpful, you may live. Otherwise. .”

The man didn’t take long to decide. “Water. Please.”

“Your name. I’ll not ask you again.”

“Kedor of Sushan. I am the owner and master of that ship, the one with red eye painted on the bow,” he inclined his head towards one of the three intact vessels. “You selected well. It is a fine craft.”

Daro handed him the skin, and let the older man quench his thirst. “Well, Kedor of Susa,” Daro used the Akkadian name for that distant city, “I thank you for your ship. My name is Daro, and I command these men.”

“Akkadians, yes, I’ve visited your fine city several times. A pity the King of Elamites intends to enslave it.”

“King Shirudukh may find that Akkad is not an apple waiting to drop into his hand. Those who wage war on King Eskkar usually end up dead.”

“You know the barbarian King?”

“Oh, yes. I have fought twice at his side.” Daro shifted his legs to a more comfortable position. “But now I need your help, and I am willing to let you live in exchange. After the Elamites are defeated, your kin in Elam can ransom you.”

Kedor shook his head. “I am from Sushan, not the land of Elam. Once it was a free city, but years ago King Shirudukh established one of his palaces there. He’s there now. He plans to visit Sumer as soon as it is taken, to see for himself the fertile countryside of the Land Between the Rivers. No doubt he will be even less merciful here than he was at Sushan.”

“We look forward to his visit,” Daro said. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, now I need the knowledge that is in your head. Tell me all about the supply boats, when they come, what they carry, how they are defended. You see, Kedor, I intend to capture as many of them as possible, and sink the rest. By the time I am finished with Elam’s supply craft, you may be the only ship master still alive on the Great Sea. Think how well you’ll do after the fighting ends, and when you’re ransomed and returned home.”