Clash Of Empires

Chapter 22

Grand Commander Chaiyanar sat on a cushioned and comfortable chair atop a small grassy knoll that gave him a good view of Sumer’s walls and its main gate. The chair had accompanied him on the ship from Sushan. Not trusting such a valuable possession on a pack animal, one of his personal guards had carried it, grunting under the weight, all the way from the beach.

Short in stature and with more than a hint of an expanding belly, Chaiyanar had participated in or directed numerous sieges in the last ten years. Early on he’d learned the importance of a comfortable place to sit.

Overhead, a reasonably clean white awning, fastened to four tall stakes driven into the ground, provided the only patch of shade. The Sumerians had cut down every tree, and burned every bush within miles of the city’s walls. But Chaiyanar expected the usual petty inconveniences, and no longer let such things bother him.

A small table stood at his left hand, holding pitchers of water and wine, as well as a platter containing dates, honey, and bread, everything covered by a white cloth to keep off the bothersome flies. His chief servant hovered nearby, eager for the chance to do his master’s bidding. At Chaiyanar’s right, a naked girl knelt, waiting to perform more personal tasks.

Commander Chaiyanar had less than thirty-two seasons, but had already demonstrated both his skill and his loyalty to his Uncle Shirudukh, the King of the Elamites. In the last five years alone, Chaiyanar had besieged three cities, and captured every one.

The walls of Sumer impressed him not at all. His men had surrounded the city four days ago, to make sure no one escaped, and that no reinforcements could join the defenders. After his first inspection, Chaiyanar estimated that it would take about twenty days to breach the walls and storm the city, certainly no more than thirty. Since then, nothing had caused him to change his schedule.

The spies who revealed information about Sumer, its strengths and weaknesses, had gauged it well. No unexpected surprises, no hidden defenses, no increased numbers of defenders on its walls. If the city proved as wealthy as the spies declared, Chaiyanar would use its gold to gratify his every need for the rest of his life. Sumer, King Shirudukh had promised, would be his to rule.

Meanwhile, his men, nearly sixteen thousand strong, knew what to do, and they had their orders. Some dug trenches, to protect them as they worked their way closer to the city’s defenders. Others made shields and ladders, while some sharpened digging sticks to help weaken the walls.

A siege remained a complicated affair, and Chaiyanar had no intention of simply starving Sumer into submission. That might take months, and he didn’t intend to delay the conquest of the other Sumerian cities. He inspected his men’s progress twice daily, at midday and again just before sundown. In between, he took his ease or amused himself with his slave girls.

His men had captured only eight women since they reached Sumer’s outskirts, and, following his standing order, the soldiers brought all of them to him first, so he could choose however many he wanted for himself. This time he had selected two. One had long blond tresses, a rarity among his own people.

She had proved most satisfactory last night and again this morning. Now she waited at his feet, to bring him food or wine or anything else he needed. Later he would have her suck his rod while he watched his soldiers sweating under the fierce Sumerian sun.

A hundred paces away, his senior commanders had set up three tables, where they issued orders and resolved the usual problems with any siege. The commanders went about their business quietly, so as not to disturb their general. He’d made it clear to them years ago that he did not want to hear the endless details of every decision as the siege progressed.

Chaiyanar sipped wine and contemplated his future city. He would have to rename it in honor of his uncle. But aside from that courtesy, the city and lands of Sumer would belong to him and his descendants for all time, a generous gift from King Shirudukh. No doubt Chaiyanar would have to return to Sushan yearly, to prostrate himself before the king and renew his oaths of fealty, but that minor inconvenience could be borne.

He took another sip of the well-watered wine, then reached down and stroked the girl’s blond tresses, before tightening his grip on her hair and twisting her head so he could see her eyes, wide with the pain. Chaiyanar enjoyed hurting his concubines, watching their expressions change when he inflicted pain on their bodies.

The fact that they dared not resist or even protest made their suffering all the more pleasant. Yes, soon it would be time for her to pleasure him again.

One of his commanders walked over and bowed, keeping his head down until given permission to speak.

“What is it?” Chaiyanar didn’t bother to conceal his irritation. Interruptions always meant some kind of trouble.

The commander lifted his head, and shifted position to face his general. “My Lord, one of our sentries just returned. He reports a force of cavalry approaching from the south.” He raised his arm and pointed. “You can just see them from here.”

Chaiyanar frowned. He had all the men he needed, and wasn’t expecting any reinforcements. He’d led the last troop of cavalry up to Sumer’s walls himself, after joining them at the beach. Setting down his cup, he stood, lifted his head, and gazed toward the south. Yes, Chaiyanar saw the soldiers, a long column, moving slowly up the road. Two pennants flew behind the lead horsemen.

The approaching riders certainly were not hostile. No enemy force would travel at such a plodding pace. It was possible that King Shirudukh, at the last moment, had diverted some more forces away from Lord Modran or General Jedidia, and dispatched them toward Sumer. Nevertheless, it did seem odd that no messenger had brought word of such action.

“I think I recognize the red pennant, my Lord. It’s the emblem of Sushan.”

The line of men continued to grow, the men leading the column now less than a mile away. The end, however, remained out of sight. Then a shift of the wind turned the pennant broadside, and Chaiyanar indeed recognized the familiar emblem of the port city of Sushan. He frowned again, and wondered if his uncle had decided to burden him with another general.

“Send a rider out to see who they are,” Chaiyanar ordered. “Tell their commander to report to me at once.”

He slipped back into his chair, picked up his cup, and drained it in his annoyance. Still, the additional cavalry might prove useful. He could extend his patrols halfway to Akkad. With so many extra men, perhaps the siege could be shortened.

“It’s working.” Hathor kept his voice low, though there was no need.

“They’ve seen us.” Naxos, too, tried to conceal his excitement. “Look, a rider is coming our way.”

“Better a messenger than a call to battle.”

Naxos laughed. “It’s too late for that, I think.”

Hathor glanced around. They had nearly reached the outskirts of the Elamites’ camp. Any farther, and they would be too close for an effective charge. “Then perhaps you should give the order, King Naxos.”

“Good hunting to you, Hathor of Akkad.” Naxos twisted on his horse. “Strike those pennants, and sound the charge.”

A grinning soldier a few ranks back took a deep breath and raised a ram’s horn to his lips. A moment later, the deep boom of the horn floated over the land.

Naxos didn’t wait for the sound to end. “Attack! Attack!” He kicked his horse forward, drawing his sword at the same time.

The city of Sumer possessed four gates, all hastily reinforced in preparation for the Elamite siege. The largest, used by the majority of traders, farmers, and visitors, faced the east. Atop the wall beside the Eastern Gate, Jarud, Commander of Sumer’s Guard, stood beside King Gemama.

The height of the wall gave them an excellent view of the rolling farmlands that surrounded the city. Jarud had ordered the destruction of every dwelling within two miles. Both Jarud and Gemama could clearly see the billowing awning that covered General Chaiyanar’s head, and even the naked girl kneeling at his feet.

Now, however, they ignored the thousands of soldiers who ringed Sumer. Instead, they stared with dread at yet another column of horsemen approaching from the south.

A moment ago, King Gemama and Jarud had cursed their luck at the arrival of still more invaders. The besieging forces already surrounding Sumer were daunting enough. Then the lowing call of the ram’s horn changed everything. The pennants vanished, tossed aside as the men urged their horses to a gallop. Weapons suddenly glinted in the bright sunlight.

For a moment, Jarud stared in shock at the wave of horsemen bearing down on the Elamites. Then he heard the war cries of Akkad and Isin rising over the pounding of the horses’ hooves. Comprehension came. “By every demon burning below, I didn’t think they’d get here this soon!” He clapped Gemama on the shoulder, a blow strong enough to knock the breath from the King’s portly body.

Gemama scarcely noticed. “Thank the gods! Look at the Elamites!”

Just out of range of Sumer’s defenders, the enemy host had surrounded Sumer’s walls, except for the narrow stretch along the river. Since their arrival, the Elamite soldiers had stacked their weapons for the eventual attack. Then they joined the hundreds of laborers, those skilled in digging and building platforms, all working together to prepare for the assault.

Now those soldiers and workers on the southern side of the city rushed about in panic, searching for their weapons, as an irresistible river of fierce horsemen engulfed them.

Realization of what was happening swept along the walls. The defenders erupted in cheers, their mood shifting from despair and gloom in an instant.

“Damn me for a slow-witted fool,” Jarud said. “Stay here on the walls, and keep the men alert.” He turned and dashed down the parapet steps two a time.

“Where are you going?” King Gemama shouted the words at Jarud’s back.

“To get into the fight,” Jarud called over his shoulder, “before it’s too late.”

Hathor led nine hundred Akkadian cavalry, every man screaming his war cry, straight ahead for the first three hundred paces, as if he intended to attack the entire Elamite force. Then he guided his horse to the left, and turned toward the southern walls. Behind him rode the finest mounted bowmen in his command. They followed his path, and as they made the same sweeping turn, they shot arrow after arrow at the main force of the invaders, those positioned in front of the eastern wall.

Each man launched four or five high-arcing shafts, and that arrow storm struck confusion into the scrambling enemy. The shafts, not aimed at any particular invader, rained down on men and horses. Two small herds of Elamite horses, likely mounts for the enemy commanders, bolted, adding to the panic. Hathor didn’t intend to engage them, merely keep them away from Naxos and the rest of the Akkadians until the King finished his slaughter.

Hathor and his riders had divided the enemy encircling the walls in two. The largest part of the Elamite army lay to the east and north of the city, but those who had taken up their station on the southern side of Sumer now found themselves cut off and encircled.

King Naxos led the rest of the men, four thousand strong, straight into the enemy’s confused ranks. Trapped between the river, Hathor, and Naxos, more than three thousand Elamite soldiers, many still scrambling for their weapons, were ridden down in a fury of blood.

Outnumbered at the point of attack, caught unprepared, and swarmed from all sides, Chaiyanar’s men never had a chance to offer any real resistance. Most just ran. Some in their fright sought to escape to the safety of their companions on the eastern side of the city, but Hathor’s men turned their deadly bows away from the main force and directed their weapons at any fleeing toward them. Now the Akkadians aimed their arrows with care, loosing shaft after shaft into the panicked mass of besiegers.

Other Elamites tried to move up closer to Sumer’s walls, but the moment they came within range of the archers atop the parapets, flights of arrows from the defenders tore into them. Some Elamites fled toward the river, hoping to escape into the waters. But many couldn’t swim, and for them the river proved as deadly as the approaching horsemen. Those who could swim, tossed away swords and any other impediments in a desperate effort to plunge into the river and get out of range.

Hathor guided his men down a line that he guessed would be just outside the range of Sumer’s arrows. By now his wild charge had reached the river. His bowmen eased their horses to a stop, and started picking off those in the water. Soon enough, the river cleared, as the dead, arrows protruding from their bodies, floated away to the south on the blood stained waters.

Even before the slaughter ended, Hathor ordered the destruction of the enemy supplies to begin. Akkadians flung themselves from their horses and began stacking anything that would burn. The Elamites had several fires going at the time of the attack, and some of those still smoldered. Now fresh smoke rose into the air as shields, clothing, tools, anything that would burn was heaped into the flames. Stacks of arrows, waiting ready for the Elamite attack on the city, were the first to be tossed into the fire, after the cavalrymen had replenished their own quivers.

Hathor, with three Akkadians as his guard, picked his way through the dead and the debris. He shouted orders and pointed with his sword to any piles of goods that should go into the fire. But the Akkadians had not missed much.

The ram’s horn sounded again, this time with a different note. Everywhere men raced back to their horses. Hathor glanced to the east. The main force of Elamites had regrouped, and now advanced toward him, a thick double line of infantry carrying shields. They had recovered faster than Hathor expected. Behind them he saw archers forming up as well. Even farther back, the Elamite cavalry, at least three thousand of them, had raced to their horses and now prepared to confront the Akkadians.

“Time to go!” Hathor’s bellow carried over the battlefield. “Let’s get out of here, unless you want to give those bowmen a target.”

Laughing, the Akkadians cantered southward and toward the river, moving faster once they cleared the fields of the dead. In moments they were out of range of the approaching archers. The Elamite cavalry, however, had finally collected enough of its force to launch a counter attack.

But first they had to catch the Akkadians. Hathor, riding at the rear of his men, kept glancing back at the enemy horsemen. They were closing the gap, but Hathor’s men needed to cover only little more than a mile. By the time he reached the ford, Naxos had already ordered most of his men into the water. The King, always eager to demonstrate his courage, waited at the river until Hathor reached his side.

“They’re at your heels,” Naxos shouted, as he turned his horse into the stream.

Hathor didn’t bother to look behind him. With a touch of the halter, his stallion slid down the now slippery bank, roiled into loose muck by nearly five thousands horses, and splashed into the muddy water. More than a hundred paces ahead the first of the two islands that divided this part of the Tigris waited. Hathor caught up with Naxos, and the two men churned their way through the warm water, their horses kicking up walls of spray.

Twice Hathor thought he might have to cling to his horse’s mane and swim for it, but each time the big warhorse, holding its head high, found its footing. Then he and Naxos were scrambling up onto the first island. Hathor patted his horse’s neck, then turned toward the eastern shore.

The first Elamite horsemen to arrive at the fording place were already dead or dying, multiple shafts riddling their bodies along the river bank. The Akkadian bowmen had just enough range with their weapons to drive the enemy away from the shoreline.

“Well, that will teach them.” Naxos laughed at the sight.

An arrow splashed into the water at the King’s feet.

“They do have a few bows,” Hathor said. “Let’s keep moving.”

Naxos, bellowing commands that floated over the river, ordered the men to continue the crossing. Soon the entire force was strung out between the two islands and the western bank. When Hathor, breathing hard, finally reached the far side of the river, he swung down from his horse.

The enemy hadn’t attempted to pursue. They knew they would run into an arrow storm as they struggled through the water. They just sat there, watching the Akkadians.

“They won’t leave their rear unguarded again,” Naxos said with a grin.

“That they won’t,” Hathor matched the King’s grin with one of his own. “Which will be even better for us, since we’re not going south. Now it’s time to teach them a few other lessons.”