Quest for Honour (70 page)

Gatus laughed. “If that boy can march his army fifty miles in two days, I’ll give him my hat when I see him. By the time we reach Larsa, he’ll be at least three or four days behind us.”

If there were no delays in the march, and if the men could keep up the pace in spite of any Sumerian attacks, Eskkar expected to reach Larsa in less than two more days. But something always went wrong, he reminded himself. Battles were often little more than a collection of mistakes, with victory going to the side that made the least. Which was why he and Trella had worked so long preparing the men and equipment needed to fight this war.

“Let’s hope we can take the city before Shulgi arrives,” Eskkar said. “And that will depend on Trella’s people.”

“She knows what’s needed. As long as your luck holds out, barbarian, we’ll take the city.”

Eskkar grunted. The gods who controlled men’s fates could change a man’s fortune in a heartbeat. “Then you’d better offer some extra prayers, Gatus. I think we’re going to need more than luck for the next few days.”

Day 3

I
n the pre-dawn darkness, Eskkar rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Not that he’d gotten much rest during the night. He woke at every odd noise, and walked the camp, talking to the sentries and worrying about the skirmishers and Ur Nammu. If the slingers were killed or captured, it would be a small loss. Nothing they knew could change the battle plan. But if too many of the Ur Nammu were lost, then the rest of Chinua’s fighters might just decide they’d had enough of Eskkar’s war, pull out, and head back home.

None of the men he’d sent out last night had returned yet, but he really wasn’t expecting them before dawn. The sentries Gatus posted had kept a sharp lookout for anyone trying to creep up to the Akkadians. During the night, odd noises out in the land between the rival camps kept every sentry on edge. Just before midnight, a few arrows had come flying into the camp, and one sleeping soldier in the middle of the camp had taken an arrow in the leg. But the arrows stopped almost as soon as they had started, and never restarted.

Nevertheless, Eskkar greeted the dawn at the camp perimeter, watching anxiously for his men. As the sun rose he saw them, crouched over and moving quickly toward the camp. As they drew closer, the returning skirmishers broke into a run, waving their hands and they raced back as swift as a young horse to the camp’s safety. Eskkar saw that two of them had blood on their tunics.

Shappa, out of breath but grinning like he’d just taken his first woman, jogged over to where Eskkar stood.

“Captain, we killed three of them, and drove the rest off. Did any get through?”

Eskkar had taken a quick count and saw that all of Shappa’s men had returned. “No, only a few arrows launched from a distance. One man was wounded.”

The slinger glanced around. “And the warriors? Did they make it back? We glimpsed them moving toward the enemy camp.”

One of the sentries gave a shout, and Eskkar looked out to see a small herd of horses galloping toward the camp, urged on by the war cries of the Ur Nammu warriors.

“I’ll be damned,” Gatus said, yawning as he walked over to join them. “I thought you told them to stampede the horses, not steal them.”

Eskkar shook his head. “You can’t send warriors near horses. It’s a sign of weakness not to try and steal a few. I should have known they would try something like this.”

“Well, no thanks to you, but now we’ve got another ten spare horses to use as pack animals. I can put the wounded man on one. Another fool sprained his ankle, so he can ride, too, instead of tiring out his friends.”

Eskkar had seen the man during the march, fighting the pain and supported on either side by his comrades, while others struggled under the extra weight of the man’s gear.

Chinua rode up, his body drawn up to its full height, head held high and proud of his men’s accomplishments. “Hail, Lord Eskkar. We killed six men, and captured ten horses.”

Eskkar bowed in recognition of the Ur Nammu’s success. He saw that one of the returning warriors had a bloody arm. “The horses are yours, of course, Chinua, but if my men may have the use of them . . . we will be in your debt for the animals.”

Chinua turned to his men, speaking rapidly in their own tongue, explaining the arrangement.

“Get the men moving, Gatus.” Eskkar raised his voice. “At least we’ve taught the Sumerians not to try and sneak up on us during the night. Now it’s time to march.”

They broke camp quickly. The men were used to eating as they walked, and it took little time to gather weapons and begin moving.

“Your skirmishers did well,” Gatus said, when Eskkar guided his horse alongside the old soldier.

“And not a man lost,” Eskkar agreed. “Now we’ll see what they can do at Larsa.”

Gatus drove the men hard the rest of the morning. They complained and groaned at the pace, but their legs kept moving, drawing closer to Larsa with each step, and no one dropped out. The archers, slingers and the rest of the company dared not complain, since they all carried less weight than Gatus’s men. Instead they matched the spearmen’s pace, and covered the ground with long strides that ate up the miles.

The Akkadians soon had their usual escort of enemy horsemen at their flanks and rear. By now, seeing so many of the enemy close no longer worried the infantry. It didn’t matter how many Sumerian horsemen surrounded them, as long as the archers protected the spearmen, both were safe from Razrek’s cavalry.

The enemy hadn’t tried to stop them yet, but Eskkar expected that to happen soon enough. Once the Sumerian horsemen on Eskkar’s left drew a little too close. Eskkar called out to Mitrac, who noticed the same encroachment and with a few swift orders, prepared his men.

When the enemy drifted a little closer, Mitrac barked out an order. One hundred archers stopped, strung their bows, and launched five arrows each. Many of the shafts fell short, and the riders turned and ran as soon as they saw the first flight of arrows, but at least half a dozen horses and men went down, caught by surprise by the rain of arrows. It wasn’t much of an exchange for the five hundred arrows launched, but it would teach the Sumerians not to come too close.

In moments the archers jogged back to their place in their ranks, and the moving column hadn’t even slowed its pace.

But just before noon, the scouts riding a few hundred paces in advance halted as they crested a low hill. Eskkar put his heels to his horse and rode out to join them.

Hundreds of Sumerians waited about eight hundred paces ahead. They’d built up a low breastwork of dirt and a few trees, and now stood behind the makeshift barrier. All the ones in the front had bows, and more men, some on foot, others on horseback, took position behind them. Eskkar glanced at the Sumerian horsemen who’d been shadowing them, and saw they had formed lines and moved in closer. They would attack if
the Akkadians ranks stretched too thin. And if he decided to avoid this encounter, his men would waste valuable time.

It didn’t matter. Before Eskkar had finished studying the enemy formation, Gatus took charge.

“Spearmen!” Gatus’s voice rose up over the excited soldiers. “Take battle positions.” His subcommanders shifted the men quickly from the column into a wider front, the spearmen three deep. They shrugged off their sacks, pulled bronze helmets onto their heads, and readied their shields and spears.

“Slingers!” Gatus’s bellow could be heard by every Akkadian. “Form up behind the spearmen!”

The slingers, even more excited than the spearmen, took their position. This was their first test. They would have to provide support for the spearmen when they charged.

“Alexar, position the archers at the rear and flanks. Keep the horsemen at bay.” Eskkar gave the command but Alexar knew what had to be done and had already dispatched his subcommanders. Every bow was strung, and arrows nocked to the string.

Gatus wheeled his horse from in front of the spearmen. “Prepare to advance at a walk!” He waited while the command was echoed down the line by the subcommanders. “Advance!”

Every left foot took the first step, and the line of spearmen strode confidently toward the Sumerians. They carried their heavy wooden spears low in the right hand, to conserve strength, while holding their shields high to protect the face and upper body. The second, third and fourth ranks, when they were in range of the enemy arrows, would raise their shields up to cover their heads.

The whole shift from a marching column to battle formation took only moments, and to the Sumerians it must have looked as if the Akkadians had hardly slowed their march.

Eskkar took position with his horsemen, pacing along behind the slingers. When the Sumerians broke, his small group of Akkadian and Ur Nammu riders would charge into the enemy rear.

Gatus had dismounted and handed his mare over to one of the camp boys. He walked just ahead of the slingers, guarded by two spearmen on either side.

Mitrac, bow in hand, led the archers only a few paces behind the slingers. A few more steps, and the enemy position was within their range.
“Archers! Prepare to shoot!” He, too, waited a moment for the command to travel up and down the line. “Shoot! Keep shooting!”

Seven hundred archers stretched in a line three deep behind him. Without breaking stride, they raised their bows and launched the first volley at the entrenched Sumerians. Another was on its way before the first landed, and a third a moment later.

Almost two thousand arrows struck the Sumerians with devastating effect, and before their own bows could even reach the approaching spearmen. But the enemy’s first flight of arrows flew toward the advancing line. Most fell short, but a few struck the shields. One man went down, an arrow in his leg. More enemy arrows flew toward steadily advancing infantry, who now presented a shield wall to the front and overhead. The Sumerians could manage only a jagged volley that showed the nervousness of their archers, daunted by the sheer volume of shafts raining down on them. Eskkar saw their faces turning to the left and right, looking for the first man to turn and run, all of them hesitant now to stand in place against their Akkadian counterparts while the frightening line of spears moved steadily toward them.

By now the spearmen had covered half the distance. “Ready weapons!” Gatus had to bellow the command this time, as the noise and din of a battlefield began to grow.

As if it were a single movement, the spears were raised and held above the right shoulder. The second and third ranks moved even closer to the front, the raised shields now covering almost every part of the ranks.

“Charge!”

The spearmen broke into a run, but kept the line even and their shields held out before them. For the first time they voiced their war cries as they charged toward the enemy. “Akkad!” burst from twenty-eight hundred lungs as they charged.

Eskkar saw the first of the Sumerians turn and run. Fear spread quickly and more men abandoned their position. The Akkadians closed the gap in moments. Arrows continued to rain down on the fleeing Sumerians, and now stones from the slingers whizzed through the air, striking with a loud thud when they struck a shield, or with the softer sound of crushing flesh.

Almost none of the enemy stood their ground, and the few that did accomplished nothing by their bravery but their deaths. With shouts of “Akkad!” still ringing out over the ground, the spearmen smashed into the now abandoned barrier, scrambled over it and kept going at a run.

The Sumerians – caught by surprise at the rapid and deadly advance – turned to escape. But due to the speed of the attack, confusion reigned, as Sumerians bumped into each other as they tried to reach their horses. Stones from the slingers arched up into the sky before raining down on the confused mass, sending horses bucking and tossing riders from their backs. The archers followed, but they held their arrows until they climbed atop of what was left of the breastwork. That gave them a slight height advantage, and they stopped and began shooting.

The spearmen closed with those Sumerians still surging backwards. Most had thrown down their bows and now struggled to catch and mount their horses, escape their only thought. Eskkar never heard who gave the order, but the first rank of spearmen had reached within forty paces. They cast their long spears, drew their swords, and closed with the enemy.

The Ur Nammu – without waiting for the order – charged, sweeping around to the right, where a narrow piece of empty ground let them bypass the exultant spearmen. The rest of the Akkadian horses followed.

As Eskkar reached the crest, he pulled up and turned to see the rear. The Sumerians at their rear and flanks had hardly tried to approach. The remaining archers, staying close behind the charging ranks, had kept them at bay.

By the time he returned his gaze to what remained of the Sumerian position, the carnage had ended. Bodies littered the ground, horses and men, victims of arrows, stones, spears, swords. The Sumerians were still fleeing as fast as their horses could gallop, and more than a few were on foot and running for their lives, trying to reach the safety of their still-mounted brethren before the shouting Ur Nammu, shooting arrows as they rode, ran them down.