Quest for Honour (51 page)

“Can our men handle the bow while they ride?” Eskkar had worried about this since he first envisioned using cavalry much the same way as the barbarians did – to charge their enemy, loosing shafts as they rode, before wheeling off and forming up for another attack. If fifty men launched five or six arrows during each charge, that meant close to three hundred arrows raining down on the enemy force, with very little opportunity for them to shoot back. Barbarians considered this their most important tactic, especially when used against dirt-eaters or, in the case of Sumeria, massed infantry.

“We’ve less than twenty men learning to use that weapon, and their progress is slow,” Hathor admitted. “But they’re improving, and I think it can be done, at least for some of the younger and better riders. We’ll have to see, but their Ur Nammu teachers expressed satisfaction with their progress. Those who can’t are taught how to throw a lance. That’s difficult enough to do from horseback, but some of our men are getting good at it.”

Barbarians such as the Ur Nammu learned to ride and shoot from a horse’s back almost from birth. Eskkar understood that villagers would never achieve a steppe warrior’s level of skill in a few months, if ever. He knew he could not do it himself. His training with the clan had been interrupted before he had a chance to master the bow from the back of a horse. Not that he would ever have been very proficient. Eskkar was too tall to be a good archer from horseback, and his large hands lacked the dexterity needed to draw and nock an arrow while riding at a dead run.

“If using a bow can’t be done, Hathor, don’t waste the men’s time. I’d rather have a good rider flinging a lance and swinging a sword than a poor archer fumbling with a bow.”

A lance – usually not any taller than a man – made for a deadly weapon when thrown from the back of a charging horse. With the speed of the animal to add strength to the rider’s arm, a flung lance could pass right through a man’s body or impale a horse. In the last few months, Eskkar had spent quite a bit of time practicing with that weapon. Since he knew he could never shoot a bow on the run, the lance gave him the best weapon to strike an enemy at a distance.

“We have many months before we have to make that decision,” Hathor replied. “And you’re right, not many will be able to master that kind of archery. Right now the main thing is to teach the men how to ride and fight from horseback. Learning to ride well is a difficult and painful task that takes months to master. We’ve had two men killed so far, and lost
a few horses to broken legs. Both men had their necks broken after being thrown. Now as soon as we think a man won’t make a good rider, we stop his training. No need to waste men or horses. And I’ve had to send back a few men, those who couldn’t control themselves or the horse while swinging a sword.

More than a few. Eskkar had heard the reports of those who couldn’t master the needed skills. Still, the numbers were fewer than he’d expected. Not everyone had the strength in their legs and back that enabled them to keep their seat while guiding a galloping horse across rough ground with one hand, and swinging a sword with the other.

Just as important was each rider’s sense of balance. A man needed to know how and when to lean forward or to the side, how to move with the animal. Striking with a sword required plenty of balancing ability. Otherwise the rider would crash to the earth with the first blow. To use a bow from a fast-moving horse required even more balance, since you needed two hands to use the bow. And you still had to guide the horse with your legs, voice, and the halter, while snatching another arrow from the quiver and fitting it to the bowstring, another task that took plenty of practice. Hand and leg movements had to guide the horse with precision, while the rider kept his balance with the animal racing beneath him.

Hathor waited a moment, then continued. “To train so many horses at the same time requires plenty of work. Like their riders, some horses, even after they’re broken, aren’t meant for warfare. Almost all of the horses we select are about thirteen to fourteen hands high, which gives them the size and bulk needed to carry a man and his weapons. Still, some taller animals don’t have the endurance, and a few smaller ones do as well as their taller brethren, though we make sure those mounts are matched with a small rider.”

Every barbarian, including Eskkar, preferred to ride his largest and strongest horse into battle. “And the Ur Nammu have found enough horses of that size to bring to us?”

“Yes. Subutai has his men out riding all the way to the steppes, to gather more wild stock.

“At least those animals will know how to fight. Unlike the tame horses raised in the villagers’ corrals.”

A horse raised in the wild could be a fearful fighter. Life in the herd involved biting, kicking and banging into other horses. Stallions fought and often killed to protect their mares, and the mares fought to protect their colts. Those same instincts made for a good warhorse.

As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, Hathor explained the rest of his training procedures, stopping often to answer Eskkar’s questions. Twice, Hathor turned to one or another of his commanders for a more precise answer. By then Eskkar knew all their names and responsibilities.

“Now I think it’s time to inspect the horses, Captain. And while we’re doing that, my men will prepare for the demonstration. We’re going to have two forces charge each other, so you can see how they ride and how they fight.”

Eskkar climbed to his feet. His head had cleared, and he felt rested and refreshed. It would be good to feel a horse between his knees again. “Come on, Grond. Let’s see what these men can do.”

“They can ride, Captain,” Hathor assured him. “And I think they’ll fight well when the time comes.”

“Then my trip was well worth the effort. After your commanders have finished, I’d like to ride with your men and take some practice with a lance. I don’t always get enough time in Akkad.”

Hathor nodded. “Then I’ll join you, if I may. We can hurl a few dozen lances and see how many targets we can hit. And since I saw you practicing your swordsmanship with a lance in your left hand, I’ve been doing it myself.”

“I learned that from Gatus. He has his infantry using their spears in all manner of ways. You never know when it might come in handy to have a second weapon.”

“Let’s hope we never need it in a battle,” Hathor said. “But always better to prepare for trouble than be caught by surprise.”

S
hulgi lay back in the comfortable bed, enjoying the feel of the soft cloth against his naked body. The chatter of birds floated through the window, as well as the fainter sounds of Sumer’s inhabitants bustling about their morning business. Dawn had risen some time ago, but no one would disturb the warrior king of Sumer in his bedchamber. All the city’s inhabitants envied their king his good fortune to have the voluptuous Queen Kushanna in his bed, no matter what they might think about her strict rule over their lives. Brother and sister had brought peace and a measure of prosperity to the city, and few even remembered their father, dead now for over a year. The rumors that Eridu had died at his son’s hand had faded from memory.

Three months had passed since Shulgi’s last return to Sumer. In all that time he’d seldom slept on anything softer than a blanket stretched over hard ground. In truth, he hadn’t spent more than a few months in the city since taking power. Instead, he’d ridden up and down the length of the desert, chasing the last of the Salibs, even those who fled deep into the west to escape. Their destruction had taken longer than he’d expected, but he felt more than satisfied with the result – an army of horsemen at his command. Before Shulgi reluctantly turned his horse’s head back toward Sumer, he’d conquered another six desert clans and covered more than half the distance to the fabled land of Egypt. With the elimination of the last of the Salibs, the mocking title of Boy King vanished as well.

Egypt would be his next conquest, after he’d crushed Akkad and forced its people into his new Sumerian Empire. Once he had the
additional manpower from Akkad and the northern lands, he would have an army large enough to invade Egypt. But that effort would have to wait a few more years. When he finished conquering Akkad, Shulgi knew he would need at least another year or two to solidify his rule over the remnants of the Akkadian lands, as well as the other cities of Sumeria. After Shulgi eliminated their petty rulers and installed men loyal only to himself, he would reign supreme, the only king in the vast land between the rivers. First Akkad, then Egypt, then only the gods knew how far Shulgi could stretch his reach.

“What are your thoughts, my brother?” Shanna ran her fingertips down his arm and onto his stomach.

Shulgi’s thoughts of empire vanished at her touch, and his manhood stirred even before her hand closed around it. He’d taken her twice last night as soon as he returned to Sumer, and once again this morning. No matter how often he possessed her, it needed only a word, a look, the feel of her breast, to make him hunger for her body again. Shulgi wondered how she’d learned to arouse such passion in a man. Perhaps Kushanna, too, was a witch, like the queen of Akkad. He wondered if Eskkar felt the same lust for his wife. Not likely, he decided. Those who had seen both women voiced only disdain for Trella’s plain looks and simple attire.

“I was thinking how soft your lips are when they touch my body, Shanna.”

“Mmm, yes, such a beautiful body. So strong, and so fierce a rod. Since you’ve ridden to war, you’ve grown even more handsome. A true king.” She tightened her grip, and his erection sprang up, throbbing. Taking her time, she moved down the bed, settled herself comfortably, and let her breasts dangle against his thigh. She brushed her lips lightly against his staff, teasing him until he squirmed under her touch, the urge to penetrate her body growing ever more demanding.

“Take me in your mouth,” he commanded, unable to restrain himself. He used the same voice he would give orders to any soldier.

“Oh, yes, my lord. Whatever you command.” Still taking her time, she closed her mouth over the tip of his member, and used her tongue to force a moan of pleasure from his lips. Slowly she took the full length of his manhood into her mouth, her hair now scattered across his loins, until her lips touched his hard stomach.

“You are a witch.” No other woman had ever managed to take the full length of his aroused staff into her mouth.

She lifted her head and took a breath. “If I’m a witch, why do I do your bidding?” Before he could reply, she began stroking his staff, this time using her cheek against the tip.

Waves of pleasure rushed through him. He’d taken plenty of women while away from Sumer, but none of them compared to her. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Shulgi reached down and pulled her toward him.

With an easy movement, she knelt over him and guided his staff inside her body. Kushanna sighed in pleasure as she sank down on him. She clasped her hands behind her neck and leaned back. Without moving her hips, she used the powerful muscles deep inside her womb to squeeze his rod.

“Do you like that, my brother?”

“Oh, yes, Shanna,” he panted. “There is no one like you.”

“Then let me take you to the pleasure of the gods.” She began to move up and down, grinding her hips, thrusting herself harder and harder against him, keeping him deep inside her.

He felt the warmth of her body as he gazed upon her breasts, swaying above him. Faster and faster she rode his manhood, twisting and pushing against him, until with a cry he burst inside her. Even that did not satisfy her. She kept moving, squeezing him, until he protested and pushed her aside.

“Enough. Any more and I won’t be able to ride for days.”

She brushed the tangle of hair from her face and stretched out beside him, cradling his head against her breasts. “Tonight you will be strong again for me, I promise you.”

His arms encircled her as he lay there, scarcely able to move. Shulgi breathed in the warm musk of her body. His eyes closed, and he let himself relax. Within moments, the feel of her face against his shoulder lulled him back to sleep.

When he woke he found Shanna dressed and standing beside the bed. She wore a soft gown of pure white, and her slaves had combed her hair artfully to frame her features. A tray of fruit, bread, and ale rested on the table. She leaned over and kissed the sleep from his face.

“It’s time you woke up, my brother. Sumer’s noble merchants and traders will assemble here at midday, to hear of your latest conquests. And you don’t want your body to grow weak from too much time in bed.”

Shulgi smiled at that. The long days spent on the back of a horse had
tightened every muscle, including, it seemed, his manhood. He’d never spent his seed so often, and with so much force before. For a moment Shulgi considered telling her to remove her dress. He shook the temptation from his mind and pushed himself into a sitting position.

She handed him the ale cup, and he drained its contents. Some day, he knew, Shanna might hand him a cup of poison with as much grace and concern. But not today. And not while there remained so many lands to conquer.