Conflict of Empires

49

Day 5

Eskkar woke to find the morning sun in his eyes. Something felt odd, until he realized he hadn’t slept on hard ground for the first time in almost ten days. He remembered dragging the remains of Naran’s bed close to the window, so that dawn’s first light would wake him. By then Eskkar felt as tired as if he’d fought a dozen fights.

Midnight had come and gone before he managed to snatch some sleep, throwing himself down on the king’s fancy blankets, exhausted by the long day’s march and the night attack on Larsa. Now the sun shone brightly, well above the horizon, and Eskkar realized he’d slept right through sunrise. Throughout the city, his men were up and about, while he slept in comfort on a thick spread of rich cloth that until last night had no doubt pampered the soft flesh of King Naran, his wives and concubines.

For a moment, Eskkar lay there thinking about last night’s events, ignoring the sounds of activity in the courtyard below. His mouth felt dry, and his head ached as if he’d been drinking all night, instead of capturing his first city. He was, he decided, getting too old for this kind of warfare.

Grond entered the room, carrying an ornate carved tray in both hands. “Everything’s under control, Captain.”

Leave it to Grond to make sure his commander knew the situation first.

“There’s fresh water, bread, hot chicken, and some dates. And a cup of Naran’s finest ale.” Grond set the tray down on a low table beside the bed. “We; d better drink as much of that as we can. Probably won’t see anything as good as this again.”

Eskkar pushed himself up. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and every breeze brought more of the acrid smell inside. Most of the fires from the attack would have burned themselves out by now, but the charred embers would linger for some time.

Despite the small amount of sleep, he felt rested. He grasped the cup of ale, drank half of it, then filled it again with water. This time he emptied the cup. “Demons, that’s good ale. You’re sure everything’s under control?”

“Oh, yes. The city’s still burning here and there, but our men and supplies are all inside the walls. The Sumerian horsemen have moved in closer, to watch us, but they’re not going to attack a walled city.”

“Useless fools. Shulgi should have known better.”

“I’m sure he knows by now.” Grond sat down on the bed, which sagged under their combined weight. “No sign of Razrek. That wolf must have gotten away before they closed the river gate.”

“How many men did we lose?”

“The commanders are still counting, but not many. Less than fifty, I’d guess. Another forty or fifty wounded. Half the men are still busy chasing women or looting.”

“The wounded will thank the gods for Yavtar and his boats.”

“A quick river trip back to Akkad, if they can get through. By the time they recover, the war will be over.”

“Or we’ll all be dead.” Nevertheless, Eskkar had a smile on his face. “And Naran’s gold?”

“Piled up in the next room, under guard. We found the third hiding place after you went to bed. Very small, but stuffed with fine jewels and precious stones. The homes of the leading merchants are still being searched, torn down, actually. It’s faster than trying to torture the information out of them.”

Last night, under the threat of torture, Naran had revealed two hiding places where he kept his hoard of gold and other valuables. But despite his protestations, the king of Larsa had given them up too easily, and Eskkar had suspected there would be a third. He stood, tossing the remains of the bread on the floor. “Are the commanders here?”

“Waiting in the courtyard.”

“Then it’s time to begin.”

Before leaving the upper chambers, Eskkar stopped to see Naran and his three wives, four daughters, two young sons, and three concubines. All of them spent the night huddled together in the adjacent chamber. Eskkar hadn’t heard any sounds of weeping or wailing. The guards must have threatened to cut the tongue out of anyone who disturbed the king of Akkad’s rest.

Now the royal prisoners stared up in fear when they saw Eskkar standing in the doorway. The chamber was just large enough to hold all of them. Two Hawk Clan soldiers, both looking tired but still alert, guarded the former king of Larsa and his women. Both guards held bread in their hands. Eskkar nodded a greeting and let them return to their own breakfasts.

Naran’s house had a private well, of course, and Eskkar drank his fill of fresh water, then stripped and rinsed out his tunic, while he washed his face and hands. By the time he had finished, his commanders had gathered at a small table, awaiting the day’s orders.

One empty seat awaited him. Before he took his place, he looked at each of his men. Tired but grinning faces greeted him. Probably none of them had snatched more than a few moments of sleep since the night before.

“My thanks to all of you. Your bravery has let us take Larsa, and now its food and supplies will sustain us — not Shulgi.” He turned to Gatus, yawning at the opposite end of the table. “How long before Shulgi arrives?”

“At least a day and a half, probably two and half. Whenever he gets here, I doubt if his army will be in any condition to fight that day. So we’ve probably got three days before we have to worry.”

“Good. That gives us more than enough time. The first thing we need to do is move all the supplies across the river.”

“A few boats got away last night,” Yavtar said. “But we captured nine that had been pulled from the river and taken inside the walls. I’ll put them all to good use. When our own boats return today or tomorrow, we should be able to ferry everyone across the river in a single day. Meanwhile, I’ll send three or four ships north with the wounded and the spoils.”

“Move the supplies first,” Eskkar said, then regretted his words. He hated giving useless orders about trivial details. His leaders knew what needed to be done. Eskkar decided his head must still be stuffed with sleep. “Anything we can use goes across,” he corrected himself. “Everything else is to be burned or tossed in the river.”

“What about the people?” Alexar looked as weary as Gatus. “Are we going to let them go? Many of them slipped out through the gates before we could close them off. Others went over the walls.”

“Turn all the women and children out of the city first. That may get our men to stop chasing them. Any men too old or infirm for work can leave, too. Make sure they take nothing of value with them, including their clothes. Have our men collect all the loot and turn it over to Yavtar.”

“What about the men?”

“The able-bodied men and boys will help us move the supplies. Then use them to help burn down the rest of the city. What won’t burn is to be torn down. After that, we’ll let the prisoners go free. That will be more mouths to feed when Shulgi arrives. Since he’s got thousands of soldiers from Larsa in his army, he won’t be able to just ignore them. He’ll have to share some of his supplies with them. But when Shulgi gets here, I don’t want him finding anything he can use, or seeing one stone standing atop another. Larsa will teach the Sumerians a lesson they will remember for a long time.”

Terror, as Trella reminded him, can be a useful weapon. Eskkar intended to use it to the fullest on Larsa.

He studied his commanders’ faces. None of them showed the slightest sympathy for Larsa or its inhabitants. Too many raids over too many years — most launched from and supported by Larsa — had long ago hardened the Akkadians against the city and its rapacious rulers. Larsa’s raiders had terrorized Akkadian lands. Now they would be repaid in full.

“Meanwhile, we’ve accomplished two of our goals. Our army marched unscathed to Larsa, and we captured the city. Now we’ve plenty of time to destroy it. By sunset tomorrow our men can rest in safety, across the river. Then we’ll resume the march.”

Heads nodded approval. His commanders knew what to do, and how best to accomplish their tasks.

“I wonder how Hathor is doing?” Gatus voiced the question, though he knew that no one knew anything about the Akkadian cavalry.

Eskkar had almost forgotten about the Egyptian and his mission.

“Let’s hope he’s as lucky as we’ve been.”

S urrounded by a dozen Hawk Clan guards, Eskkar spent the rest of the morning walking the city, making sure the detachments of soldiers knew and understood what he wanted done. His men started gathering the women and children and herding them toward the west gate. That at least put a stop to the raping. The Akkadians had been in no mood for mercy. The city had resisted them, and its women were fair game. Eskkar couldn’t have stopped the men even if he’d wanted to. And as a commander, he knew better than to give foolish orders that couldn’t be enforced.

By mid-morning, the last of the sobbing women and crying children were streaming across the countryside. Everyone had passed through the river gate. Soldiers searched them for jewels, even making them open their mouths and examining their hair. Their clothing — ripped from their bodies by force — if necessary, had to be checked as well, as there had been enough time for jewels or coins to be sewn into the garments.

Only then, and as naked as the day they were born, were the women, children and elderly allowed to pass through the gate. Many still feared for their lives, though Eskkar’s commanders had told them again and again they would not be harmed once they left. Many wailed at their fate. Most of them had been raped, some many times. Now they had to leave their husbands and family behind. Almost all of them headed south, as Eskkar’s soldiers had ordered them, but a few ran to the north or east.

Meanwhile, Alexar took charge of the city’s destruction. About nine hundred of the city’s inhabitants remained. None of them resisted, as the Akkadians greatly outnumbered them. Those who had tried to fight for their women or possessions had died during the night. The survivors had no strength or will to continue a hopeless battle. Their wives and children were either safe in the countryside as promised, or dead. Now they only worried about their own existence.

Dividing the men into two groups, Alexar set five hundred of them to tearing down the houses, starting with those of the wealthy merchants and tradesmen. Everything that could burn, clothing, furniture, leather, even baskets, was collected and tossed onto the embers of last night’s fires. Every clay pot was smashed. Fresh smoke broiled up into the sky. Anything of military value, weapons or food, went to the docks. Everything else went into the flames.

The houses, made of the usual mud brick, wouldn’t burn, but men wielding hammers, chisels and any other tool that could be used to dislodge the bricks, knocked them down. Thick logs were also used to smash down walls. The soldiers worked their prisoners hard. Eskkar’s men learned that the people of Larsa had celebrated with a feast when Kanesh fell, and every Akkadian soon knew the story.

The remaining four hundred prisoners began emptying the city of anything edible. All food, grain, wine, ale, livestock, captured horses, anything that could be eaten or useful to the Akkadians were carried down to the river and ferried across, boat load by boat load. Soon a mound of supplies began to arise on the western bank of the Tigris.

When Gatus and Yavtar complained that they had more food than the Akkadians could possibly eat, Alexar ordered the prisoners to start dumping the remaining food stocks into the river. Shulgi, when he arrived, would have to do something to prevent the starvation of the city’s inhabitants, but Eskkar had no sympathy either for them or Shulgi. The destruction went on all day, and by dusk only the city’s gates remained intact, and Naran’s house was the only one still standing. Rubble from the houses around it stretched all the way to the courtyard walls, and thick clouds of dust hung in the air, drawn toward the flames or blown about by the evening breeze off the river.

When Eskkar returned to Naran’s house, Drakis and two men waited for him in the courtyard. Eskkar headed toward the well. A thick coat of dust and dirt had accumulated on his tunic, and it stank with the odors of burning wood and animal flesh. Taking his time, he washed his body. Grond had found a clean garment somewhere suitable for Eskkar’s stature, so he kicked the old one aside, and slipped the clean one over his frame.

Inside the house, the common-room table was covered with platters of food and pitchers of wine and ale, more than enough for Eskkar and his commanders. The food tempted him, but Eskkar wanted to get one last task over with.

With Grond at his side, he climbed the stairs, followed by Drakis and his companions, and entered the room where Naran and his women still awaited their fate. Now the once spotless chamber stank of urine and worse. No one bothered to empty the chamber pots. Any wealth the room might have contained had disappeared as well. Curtains, bedding, garments and sandals had been tossed through the window and burned, along with all the other goods from the house. Naran’s hoard of gold and precious stones had departed at midday, by now well on its way to Trella’s vaults. Naran, his swollen hands still bound, lifted his eyes when Eskkar entered.

He stopped two paces away and stared down at Larsa’s king for a moment. “I wanted you to know your city is in ruins, Naran. It will be many, many years before anyone tries to build on this site again. Larsa will suffer the same fate that you plotted for Akkad.”

“What are you going to do with me?” The former ruler of Larsa looked haggard, his hair hanging limp on his shoulders. He’d soiled himself, probably more than once. His hands shook, and his lips quivered from fear. The fate of his city meant nothing to him now, only his own life.

“Do with you? Nothing. But your wives and children are going to Akkad. They’ll be slaves there for the rest of their lives, unless anyone bothers to ransom them. At least they’ll be alive.”

A gasp came from the women as they heard their fate, but no one cried out. They had emptied themselves of tears during the night.

“What about me?” Naran had to pause to get the words out. “You’ve taken all my gold. There’s nothing left here to pay a ransom, but my sons might be able to raise enough.”

Eskkar ignored the words. Naran had two grown sons, no doubt leading Larsa’s contingent under Shulgi. Instead, Eskkar glanced behind him to where Drakis, who had stopped just outside the chamber, waited. “Come in, Drakis, and bring our friends. I want them to meet Naran, king of Larsa.” He turned to Naran. “Do you know these two men?”

Naran squinted at the two poorly dressed men who shuffled slowly into the room. “No, I’ve never seen them.”

“This is Dragan and his brother Ibi-sin. Come closer. Naran can’t hurt you now.”

The two stepped forward, one limping, his hand on the other’s arm for support.

“These men are the ones who risked their lives to lower ropes to my men. Without their help, I might not have gotten inside Larsa so easily. I told them to help themselves to whatever they wanted from your gold, but they said they wanted only one thing. Best you tell him, Dragan.”

Still leaning on his brother’s arm, Dragan moved closer. “Your men killed my family, King Naran. One of your sons led the raid. Ten days ago, I watched him leave the city. He rode proudly to fight with King Shulgi’s army, but I will pray to the gods that King Eskkar kills him in battle. Your men raped and killed my sisters, murdered our parents, blinded Ibi-sin in one eye, and wounded me in the leg so badly that to this day I cannot walk without pain. They did all this to us for no reason. We were farmers, without any weapons. We had done no harm to anyone. When King Eskkar asked me what I wanted, I told him I wanted you, so that I could take my revenge for my family.”

Naran’s eyes had widened in horror at Dragan’s words.

“And I told Dragan he could have you, Naran,” Eskkar added. “Since I first came to Akkad years ago, I’ve heard many such tales, how you sent your riders north across the Sippar time after time, to kill and loot those who placed themselves under my protection. You should have surrendered your city yesterday when I gave you the chance. I would have kept my word, would have let you go. But this is better. Your death will be a warning to the other kings of Sumeria. They will hear of Larsa’s fall and your death at the hands of those you murdered. They will learn to stay south of the river.”

“No, please… King Eskkar, please spare my life. I have relatives in Sumer… they can pay…”

“Too late for that, Naran.” Eskkar called to the guards outside. “Take the women to the docks. Give them to Yavtar. A boat will be leaving as soon as it’s dark.”

The room erupted in screaming and wailing. Naran fell to the floor, his hands outstretched, his eyes wide with fright. The waiting guards had already prepared ropes, and they quickly bound the crying women, and led them away. When they were gone, Naran looked around at the empty room, his eyes wide, as if searching for his followers, his possessions, anything that might save him. He lifted his head, tears streaming down his face, and held up his bound hands piteously. “Mercy, King Eskkar! I plead for my life. I can raise more gold. I will pay whatever ransom you wish.”

Eskkar didn’t bother to reply. He turned to the brothers. “He’s yours, Dragan, Ibi-sin. But you must not take too long. Yavtar’s boat will be leaving soon, and you must be at the docks so you can return to Akkad.”

Dragan shrugged off his brother’s arm. “It will not take long.” He drew his knife from his belt. “Come, Ibi-sin. You may strike first.” Holding onto his brother’s arm, they stepped forward together.

As Eskkar left the chamber, the first scream erupted behind him. He touched Drakis’s arm. “Stay with them. When they’re finished, make sure Naran is dead, and bring me his head. Then give Dragan and his brother two sacks of gold, and get them to the boat.”

Outside, the sun was touching the western horizon. A hundred prisoners sat on the ground in the fading light, awaiting the command to destroy Naran’s house. Exhaustion and despair covered every face, and they barely raised their eyes at the sight of the Akkadian king. An equal number of soldiers guarded them.

“There are three men still inside. As soon as they come out, destroy the Compound. Leave nothing standing, and burn everything. He saw the two large pots of oil that the prisoners had prepared.

Eskkar gazed about him in satisfaction. Naran and his fine house would soon be turned into rubble, like the rest of Larsa. Now it was time to go. He strode through the Compound’s gate. After a short walk through the debris that filled the lane, he reached the main gate. Fifty of Alexar’s men waited there, guarding about a hundred slaves.

“Tear down the gates. Feed them to the fire.”

With his guards, Eskkar walked one last time through the ruined city, trying to ignore the stench of death and dust that lingered everywhere. The docks were a frenzied scene of chaos and confusion. Slaves were busy tearing them apart, piling the wood up for yet one more gigantic bonfire. The last pots of oil in Larsa would feed those flames.

Eskkar watched the final preparations. Most of his men had already crossed the river, and by now were busy setting up camp. With a loud snapping sound, the river gates came crashing down, and men with axes broke the logs apart, hewing through the ropes and staves that held the logs together. Soon those logs were added to the growing piles of what remained of the dock, and flames again leaped and twisted high into the sky.

One of Drakis’s men arrived, escorting Dragan and Ibi-sin. Their hands were clean — no doubt washed in Naran’s well — but blood still clung to their clothing. They would travel north on the same boat that held Naran’s women. With all the gold Eskkar had given them, they’d never have to work again.

“When you reach Akkad,” Eskkar said, “tell Trella everything that happened. She will make sure you are taken care of.”

He wasn’t sure that Dragan even heard him. But the brothers climbed into the boat, each clutching a sack to their body. They’d help row the craft upriver, and that would take their minds off the horror they had left behind.

From within the city, fresh flames climbed into the darkening sky, and Eskkar knew the two other gates had been set afire. Two hundred slaves who had helped destroy the last of Larsa were marched up, and the final embarkation began. Eskkar planned to bring them across the river. Boats were waiting for them, and soon prisoners and their guards were ferrying across the darkening water. The rest of the prisoners were abandoned, left to fend for themselves as best they could among the wreckage of the city.

With Grond, Eskkar boarded the last boat. They put off from the dock, but a rope held them a few paces from the riverbank. He watched his men tear up the remaining dock, then saturate everything with the oil. They scrambled through the water, and the last man tossed a torch onto the dock. It erupted in flame, a wave of fire sweeping back to the inferno that had marked the remains of the gate.

The man swam to the ship and waiting hands pulled him aboard. The captain gave the order, the rope was slipped from its fastening and hauled aboard. The boat swung with the current for a moment, then the men worked the oars, and the vessel began its journey across the Tigris.

Eskkar remained in the stern, facing the gathering dusk and watching Larsa burn. This was war, war the way barbarians waged it. Devastation, destruction and terror. Larsa would likely never be rebuilt, and when men sailed the river or led caravans past the ruins, they would tell the tale of the city’s destruction, as a penalty for bringing war to Akkad’s lands. He hoped the lesson would linger for a hundred years, but Eskkar knew how quickly men can forget.

Nevertheless, when Shulgi arrived, he would find nothing useful, not even a roof to cover his head. Meanwhile, thousands of people roamed the land begging for something to eat. All the crops in the nearby fields had been burned. No food, weapons, supplies of any kind remained in the ruins. The dead — hundreds of bodies — had been dumped in the city’s wells. They would poison the water for months, maybe longer. The city’s gold and valuables would travel to Akkad. Trella would sell them, to help pay for the war.

Larsa had ceased to exist. No one would organize raids to the north from this place again. Eskkar nodded in satisfaction and turned to the west. Tomorrow would be the sixth day, and then there would be only six more days remaining to defeat Shulgi’s army. Until today, he hadn’t spared much thought for Hathor. He wondered how his horse commander was faring. Everything would now depend on him.