Clash Of Empires

Chapter 25

The morning after the raid by Naxos and Hathor at Sumer, Eskkar rode out of Akkad just after dawn, with the feel of rain on his face. A glance at the thick clouds above warned him to expect more of the same during the day, which meant a slower pace for the horses. Rain had fallen on the city for the last three days, and Eskkar had remained within the city, hoping that the weather would clear.

When the rain persisted, Trella had ordered the priests in Ishtar’s temple to pray for fair weather. Nonetheless the useless priests or indifferent gods had refused to stop the storm showers. At last Eskkar could delay his departure no longer. Akkad and its King rode to war, and now more than ever, Eskkar had to share the discomforts of the trail with his men.

Drakis, riding at Eskkar’s side, ignored the light drizzle. His always cheerful voice floated over the already cursing men who followed behind their leaders. Before they’d gone a mile, mud had splattered every horseman. “Another beautiful day for a ride, you lazy sons of whores! A little rain will toughen you up.”

Eskkar smiled at his commander’s words. Forty of the toughest horsemen in Akkad provided security for the King of Akkad.

A ragged chorus of groans greeted Drakis, as he picked up the pace. Nothing bothered the man. The more conditions worsened, the more upbeat his words would become. The man had, after all, survived enough deadly wounds to bury a handful of soldiers. Some of his men called him The Invincible for just that reason.

Eskkar reached into his pouch and removed a hunk of bread. Better to eat it now, before it grew too soggy and fell apart. The rain, which had thankfully slowed to an occasional sprinkle, didn’t appear to affect the men. Eskkar, however, felt the stiffness in his old wounds. In the last few years, bad weather made his leg ache painfully, the same injury that had nearly killed him when he first limped into Akkad, supported by Bracca’s arm.

His left shoulder twinged, too, another painful remembrance of a sword tip that had reached the bone. In his youth, Eskkar had often smiled at the older warriors who struggled against stiff joints and complained about old wounds, especially during the rain or cold weather. Now, to his chagrin, he had joined them.

These gloomy signs of advancing age did little to cheer Eskkar’s disposition, but he shrugged them off, after muttering a curse or two beneath his breath. Soon enough he’d be fighting for his life, and a few aches and pains would mean little.

This morning Eskkar had said his goodbyes to Trella, neither of them dwelling on the chance that he might be defeated and dead in the next few days. As she had done often before, Trella merely urged him to hurry back, and said she would be waiting for him.

Both mother and father had said more painful goodbyes to Sargon. He had departed five days earlier to join Akkad’s allies — the Ur Nammu and Alur Meriki. The likelihood of Sargon’s survival wasn’t much better than his father’s. Eskkar had clasped his son tight, while Trella stood by with tears in her eyes, as her oldest son went off to war.

Nevertheless, Eskkar put all thoughts of wife and son out of his mind, and forced himself to concentrate on the current task — guiding his horse through the wet earth. Like Eskkar, each of his forty riders led a second horse, a precious gift from the last of Trella’s herds. The extra horses would allow Eskkar to make up some of the lost time, assuming, of course, that the gods didn’t pour more rain down upon his head. The Dellen Pass and the approaching Elamites awaited his arrival.

Despite its personal discomfort, the wet weather could be considered a gift from Ishtar, the Goddess who oversaw Akkad’s welfare. The rains came from the east, and would have likely slowed the Elamites as well, burdened with food and weapons, in their march toward the Land Between the Rivers. The Akkadians, traveling across a much shorter distance and less rugged terrain, would not be as affected.

The dark clouds stayed overhead during most of the day’s miserable ride and the evening’s wet camp. The next morning, however, the gods finally answered the priests’ prayers, and the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky. By noon the ground had dried enough for a quicker pace, and the Akkadians pushed their horses.

Two more days of hard riding and fast walking followed, but by alternating horses, Eskkar’s troop made good progress over the rough ground. They traveled almost a hundred and twenty difficult miles as they headed for the eastern mountains and the Dellen Pass.

Just before noon of the fourth day after setting out, Eskkar reached the top of a small hill, and saw the looming foothills and the mouth of the Dellen Pass in the distance. He smiled in satisfaction, and thanked the gods for the speedy trek. Only two animals had gone lame during the journey, forcing their cursing riders to fall behind and catch up when they could.

From his vantage point, Eskkar studied the approaches to the Dellen Pass. The mouth of the Pass splayed out from the foothills, spreading wide, the ground appearing as if the gods had poured the liquid earth from a pot, letting it scatter across the ground. The trail itself disappeared into the foothills, wending its way eastward. It finally emerged, more than a hundred miles later, on the far side of the mountains.

On this side, after exiting from the Pass, the traveler had a choice of three trails. One, the least used, led to the northwest. The second went due west, the favored approach for those traders heading for the Euphrates. The third, and most traveled, wended its way southwest. On that path lay Akkad, the gateway to the Tigris and the southern cities. And the intended destination of the invading Elamites.

Gazing toward the foothills, Eskkar watched what appeared to be an endless caravan creeping toward the Dellen Pass. The army of Akkad had arrived as well, strung out for miles to the south. Soldiers and their supplies made up the brunt of those on the march, but there were hundreds of pack animals and even more porters and livery men trudging along, mixed in with the fighting men.

The army had followed the main trail from Akkad. However Eskkar and his men had taken a shorter, though more difficult route to the same destination.

“We couldn’t have timed it any better, Captain.” Drakis guided his horse alongside. “Doesn’t look like much of an army, though.”

Eskkar smiled. “No, more like a village on the move. There may be more porters than soldiers.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t needed.” Without conscious thought, Drakis rubbed the scar on his cheek, just below his left eye. He’d taken an arrow in the face during the battle to recapture Akkad from the Egyptians, and nearly lost his eye.

“No sign of the Elamites,” Eskkar said, scanning the countryside. A few hundred enemy horsemen could tear to shreds the clumsy, strung-out column. “Better uncover the pennant, before our men think we’re an enemy patrol.” He eased his horse ahead, angling his approach to meet the head of the column.

Eskkar’s eight personal guards closed up behind him. Their duties had returned, guarding the King from any and all danger.

Meanwhile, Drakis ordered the Hawk Clan pennant uncovered, and the weary troop made its way toward the Akkadian army. By the time they reached it, Alexar, in command of the slow-moving Akkadian force, had galloped up from the rear of the column and waited to greet them.

“Good to see you, Captain. We were starting to think you weren’t coming.” Alexar moved away from the line of march and eased his horse to a stop. “The men were starting to worry. Is there any word from the north?”

River boats could carry information faster even than the speediest horse. “Yes, Sargon left to join the Ur Nammu and ride with them. They should be nearly through the mountains and into Elam soon. All is well with you?”

“Other than being at least a day, maybe two behind schedule, everything is as we expected. Lady Trella’s preparations were so thorough that the soldiers haven’t started complaining yet.”

Eskkar glanced down the column. “Where’s the cavalry?”

“Already in the pass,” Alexar said. “I sent Muta and most of the horsemen on ahead, with orders to hold off the Elamites until we arrive.”

Muta, Hathor’s second in command during the war with Sumer, had charge of Akkad’s remaining cavalry. Nevertheless, his eighteen hundred horsemen weren’t going to stop the Elamite army for long. Still, if Akkad’s luck held, only a few more days would be needed for Eskkar to get his men into position.

“Are we staying with the column?” His voice as cheerful as ever, Drakis clasped arms with Alexar.

“No, Drakis,” Eskkar said. “You take twenty of my guards up into the Pass and join Muta and his men. Tell them I’m on my way. But tonight I’ll stay with Alexar and the infantry.”

With a wave, Drakis turned aside, shouting to his men to follow. They rode off toward the Pass, facing another stretch of hard riding.

“I’ll take the lead, Captain,” Alexar said. “You probably should spend some time with the men. They’ve been wondering about you.”

Both men understood how important it was for Eskkar to be seen by his men, and even the porters. He would have preferred to ride on ahead with Drakis, but it would be the infantry that would bear the brunt of any fighting, and they needed to see their leader.

Eskkar touched his heels to his horse and rode toward the irregular column. As he approached, the soldiers struggling under their heavy burdens of weapons and supplies recognized their commander and gave a ragged cheer. The sound followed him as he paced his horse down the line of march, waving to the men. His presence gave them reassurance and confidence. They knew that where he led, others could follow.

As he rode, he studied the faces of the soldiers and laborers turned toward him. A company of spearmen marching together, strong and husky, carrying shields and spears. Archers, tall and lithe, with powerful arms, bearing bows and at least two fat quivers of arrows. Slingers, who appeared to be little more than boys, each laboring under the weight of two sacks of bronze bullets and struggling to keep up with their taller and stronger companions.

Aside from their primary weapon, each soldier carried a sword or in the case of the slingers, a long, curved knife. Sacks of bread and dried meat hung from wide belts that sagged under the weight. Armies, Eskkar knew, needed food and water as well as weapons if they were to fight effectively. Fortunately, thanks to Trella’s meticulous planning and effort, a vast amount of supplies traveled with the army, with more already on the way from Akkad.

Such planning and preparation had helped win the war against Sumer. Since then, Trella and her clerks had grown even more efficient. Eskkar and his soldiers would have all the supplies they needed for this campaign.

Eskkar smiled and waved at each company of men, making eye contact with as many as he could. He knew the names of more than a few leaders of ten and twenty, and he called out to those as he moved down the line. Despite their youth, these men would soon be fighting and dying under his orders, and he recognized the debt he owed them. They would be the ones who saved Akkad, though he doubted many of them understood the hard decisions that had brought them to this day.

He saw none of the subtle signs of fear, the wide eyes, the trembling hands, the licking of lips. They had come to fight, and if they had their private dreads, they concealed it well. No man wanted to show apprehension in front of his companions.

Most of them had been soldiers in Akkad’s army for more than a year, and many were veterans of the war with Sumer. For most, recruitment into the army had given them an honorable occupation, an escape from the drudgery and near-slavery of hard labor on the farms and in the villages.

From the smallest cluster of mud huts to the grandeur of Akkad, every gathering place of men struggled under the excess numbers of its restless young men. On the farm, fathers and older brothers pushed aside their younger siblings, leaving them few opportunities.

Women, too, were denied them. Older and more prosperous men had the pick of available women, often taking three or four as wives. That left a shortage of women, and those who remained available had little interest in joining with a younger son who had no prospects and nothing to offer in the way of a bridal price.

Without the army, many of these restless young men would have turned to banditry or petty theft, stealing and robbing from others until the city’s guards caught up with them. Then death, mutilation, or forced labor as slaves would have been their lot.

The military gave them status and purpose, even as it provided for them. They didn’t receive much in the way of payment, a few copper coins every ten days. Even so, Eskkar knew his men earned every coin, sweating under the hard training of their leaders and learning the trade of war.

And now, for the pittance these soldiers received, Akkad and its leaders expected them to fight for their country, and if necessary, to die for it. As always, Eskkar felt somewhat humbled by the trust they placed in him.

These men, along with the people of Akkad and its surrounding villages, had made him king. They fought because he and their commanders ordered them to fight, and because they knew, most without fully understanding, that the decision to take a people to war was the most important responsibility of any leader.

Foolish and unnecessary wars could destroy any city, even in victory. Akkad’s soldiers trusted Eskkar to lead them into battle. Whether against Sumer, Larsa, or even Isin, the enemy mattered little. Soon they would contend with an enemy most of them, until recently, had never heard of, the Elamites.

Raised among the Alur Meriki Clan, as a boy Eskkar had never considered the reasons men went to war. You fought because your clan leader ordered you to fight. Surrounded and supported by your kin, you followed your clan’s orders and did your utmost because that was every warrior’s duty.

Whether you lived or died meant nothing. Only honor mattered. To die failing in your duty meant a mark of shame on your family. To die in battle meant glory, or at least honor.

During the great siege of the Alur Meriki against Akkad, Eskkar had learned a hard lesson — that he needed to convince others to follow him freely into battle. Villagers required a reason to go to war. You had to do more than order them to fight. To win their trust, he’d learned to appeal to their own needs to survive and protect their families. Once they understood that, they became willing fighters.

Trella had always comprehended that the men of Akkad needed a reason to risk their lives and wage war. She helped provide that motivation, influencing the city’s women who then appealed to their menfolk to face up to their obligations. For this coming conflict, the women spread the true stories of what had happened to many cities in Elam, and about the enemy’s plan to reduce all the people to the level of slaves.

These subtle maneuverings always seemed a little un-warrior like to Eskkar, but he’d learned long ago to accept them. As the city’s ruler, he no longer disdained using fear, terror, lies, or even murder to protect Akkad and its people from harm, even though many deplored such devices. A leader needed to use every possible tool, however devious, however ruthless, to protect the majority of his followers.

Thanks to Trella, Eskkar never took either the peoples’ support or their loyalty for granted. As she worked each day with the men and women of the city, Eskkar did the same with his soldiers. He made sure that he spoke with every man, regardless of rank, as often as possible.

And so today Eskkar decided that as many soldiers as possible should know the name and see the face of the man who ordered each of them into battle. He owed that one duty to the men.

Unlike the war with Sumer, where army faced army across an open field, the coming battle with the Elamites would be different. The inhabitants of Akkad had a major role to play, though far from the city’s walls. The porters and bearers were, he knew, as brave or braver than the soldiers marching beside them. Many of the common people had volunteered despite their fear, eager to do something, anything, to defend their city and their families.

It took courage for untrained and unarmed men to follow an army into battle, knowing that death might easily overtake them. But Trella had appealed to every city dweller to defend Akkad. She entreated them to serve not by hiding behind its walls, but by accompanying the army into the field, and giving it the support, supplies, and weapons it would need to do battle.

To acknowledge their bravery, as Eskkar rode down the column, he gave the pack men, horse handlers, porters, laborers, and craftsmen as much respect as he gave to the soldiers. They, too, needed to know the face of the man who ruled them. The city of Akkad was going to war. Its inhabitants, like Eskkar, were risking their lives and those of their kin because Eskkar and Trella had told them this was the best way to save themselves, their families, and their future.

Before he reached the rear guard of the ragged column, Eskkar had ridden more than three miles. Near the end of the column, he found a surprise. A small contingent of Hawk Clan soldiers, Lady Trella’s own guards, were riding behind the soldiers. One of them led a horse that lifted its shaggy head and whinnied as it caught the scent of its master.

“A-tuku!” Eskkar face brightened at the sight of his favorite horse. He’d left the animal in Akkad, not wanting to wear it down on a long ride to the north and back. Trella, of course, had sent it on with her guards, to make sure her husband rode his best horse into battle.

And not just his horse. Trella had insisted that Eskkar donned his finest armor and helmet, and carried the strongest and lightest shield. Her fate remained entwined with his own. If Eskkar fell in battle, even in victory, Trella might find the city of Akkad slipping from their family’s grasp.

The lead elements of the army camped that night at the mouth of the Dellen Pass. A nearby stream delivered fresh water, and that luxury was far too precious to ignore. Their journey had not ended. In the morning, Eskkar intended to take his Hawk Clan guards and move as fast as possible deep into the Pass.

The place he’d chosen to defend remained thirty miles away, well up into the mountains, and he wanted to get there before sundown. As for the bulk of his forces, they would arrive as best they could.

Eskkar spent much of the evening walking through the ranks, accompanied by his guards. He wore his cloak, as much to impress his men as to ward off the cold. Many of the soldiers, and more than a few of the laborers, reached out their hands to touch his arm or even his cloak. Often unable to find the words to respond to such devotion, he nodded his head again and again in thanks for their efforts.

When he finally lay down to sleep, Eskkar felt the weariness in his legs. Pulling his warm cloak over him, he fell asleep in moments. His last thoughts were of the Elamites, even now moving toward him. He wondered what concerns, if any, lay in the mind of Lord Modran, the leader of the army Eskkar would soon face across the battlefield.