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Trella shook her head. “The only thing good about that war was that the actual fighting ended quickly. Eskkar gambled his life and the existence of Akkad in one battle, and only his skill as a leader saved them both.”

“The cities of Sumeria still defer to our leadership.” Escander’s tone implied that it would always be so. “We can take care of the Sumerians if need be.”

“Ah, the arrogance of youth, who thinks that what is, will always be. I hoped you would know better. Yes, they still respect our power. Just as they wait for Akkad to make the slightest mistake, so they can attempt to overthrow our rule once again.”

Trella had spent most of her life in that struggle, determined to ensure that the city of Akkad never made that mistake, never lost its power. Still, it remained a natural conflict of interests that would likely never end.

He nodded, accepting her rebuke. “I take nothing for granted, Grandmother. I lay down each night to sleep wondering if I will awake in the morning.”

“A wise thought to keep in your head.” Trella let her mind return to the past. “Where was I? Oh, yes. After the Sumerian War, we overcame other minor battles and skirmishes, raids and marauders, good crop years and bad. Despite all these difficulties, the city grew greater and stronger each day. Akkad spread to both sides of the Tigris, and Eskkar built this palace for us on the west bank.”

She paused for a moment, remembering those happy days. “But after many years of peace, we were caught by surprise when the new threat of war came from the east. Eskkar looked to his son to assist him. But Sargon, your father, had grown into a rebellious and lazy young man. A great disappointment to us both. He sorely tried your grandfather’s temper, which Eskkar could never quite control.”

“I’ve heard that King Eskkar could bellow and roar like a lion, though never at you, Grandmother.” Escander squeezed her hand again. “But my father, a disappointment? I’ve never heard anything about that.”

“Few remember those days,” Trella said, “and even fewer want to speak about them. So while Akkad basked in prosperity, a new war loomed. Meanwhile, your father, the heir to the kingdom, wasted his time drinking, gambling, and whoring with friends as shiftless as himself, despite our strictest commands. That’s when a stranger arrived from Sumeria, and brought with him the first stirrings of the Great War to come.”

“Ah, the mysterious stranger, whose name no one knows.”

Trella smiled. “In truth, at that time no one in Akkad knew his name or face, save Eskkar.”

“But now. . after so many years? Why is his name kept secret?”

“Because if he still lives, he might yet be of help to Akkad in the future. The bond between him and Eskkar proved stronger than time or distance. And even if he has passed beyond the veil, he will have whispered his secrets to his heirs, and his sons may yet honor the bond that exists between our families. So to this day, only Sargon and I know his name. Now I will share that secret with you. The man’s name was Bracca, and he was a companion of Eskkar’s during much of his youthful wanderings. They shared so many dangers that each owed the other his life.”

“I’ve never heard that name. And after this Bracca came, King Eskkar went north once again, to the barbarian lands, to seek allies.”

“No, that’s not the way it happened. You must learn patience. Always you want to jump ahead in the story, just as you did as a child. At that time, Eskkar’s focus remained on Akkad’s old enemy, the barbarian clan from the steppes, the Alur Meriki.” She shifted in her chair. “Even in the steppes you will find enemies.”

“Enemies? But I’ve offended no one outside the Palace, let alone in the north.”

“Eskkar had many enemies throughout the land, even among the clans of the steppes, and some of them may still be alive. Those who’ve died may have passed their hatred of your grandfather to their children. Blood feuds can span generations. Your name will bring danger from many sides, and you will have few friends to stand by you. That is why the test worries your father so much.”

“But if I survive. . if I return?”

“You will survive. I see Eskkar’s spirit in you, and that gives me hope. He always managed to outwit his foes.”

“He had you to help him, Grandmother. And the luck of the gods. I’ve heard those stories, how he often gambled his life in some desperate battle, trusting to chance to see him through. But my luck remains to be tested.”

“Don’t believe all those tales about your grandfather’s luck, Child. Eskkar succeeded because he always managed to anticipate and outwit his enemies. Every one of his foes underestimated both his courage and his wits. Now, try to keep silent for a few moments.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

“Where was I? Oh, yes, the stranger came to our house — we still lived in the Compound across the river then — to speak to Eskkar. The Great War had already begun, though Eskkar and I didn’t realize we were at war. By the time we found out what had happened, it was nearly too late. Our enemy had already plotted our downfall, and sent the first of his minions into our midst, to spy on Akkad and its allies.”

“But everyone said how strong and powerful Akkad was.”

“You said you wanted to hear the truth, all the secrets. Now pay attention, and listen to the truth about your father, Sargon. And learn about the cunning of the Great King of the Elamite Empire. What you hear might just save your life.”

She sighed. “I remember the night it all started, the night the stranger arrived to see your grandfather and brought with him the news, both good and bad, of what was to come.”

1

3130 BC, the Palace of King Shirudukh of Elam, in the City of Anshan. .

General Jedidia shifted his weight once again, the hard stone of the bench growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant surroundings, he much preferred the back of a horse and galloping over rough terrain, rather than the unyielding seat beneath him.

Tall and dark, Jedidia appeared as fierce as any of his hardened soldiers. Black hair half concealed a wide brow, and his hook nose jutted arrogantly from beneath deep set brown eyes. A thick beard covered his chin and reached well onto his muscular chest. A fighting man, Jedidia had earned the respect of the men he commanded. He had little interest in any other accolades.

The narrow waiting area, just outside the main garden of King Shirudukh’s Palace, offered its own collection of flowers and shrubs, but Jedidia no longer noticed either their beauty or pleasing fragrance.

Instead he sensed the hint of danger that always lurked within the walls of the Palace. Not all the men summoned before King Shirudukh survived the invitation. A man of violent and unpredictable moods, the King had little patience for any who displeased him, let alone dared disobey him. Those unfortunates often departed missing a finger or two, or even a hand.

Jedidia grimaced at the thought. In battle, he’d faced death often enough, and with less concern. But this intolerable waiting galled him. The unexpected summons could mean anything. Whatever the reason, Jedidia felt in his bones something important in the wind. Whether a death sentence or a promotion remained to be seen.

A small serving table, provided by King Shirudukh’s servants, offered fat dates, red grapes, and slices of golden melon, neatly arranged and surrounded by fresh flowers.

Nevertheless, the tempting morsels lay untouched. Neither General Jedidia, nor the other two occupants of the small courtyard, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, or Lord Modran, felt any desire to eat before meeting with their sovereign. Only a fool ate, or drank for that matter, before an audience with King Shirudukh. A slight belch or worse, a loud fart, might be interpreted by the King as a sign of disrespect.

Each of the three generals occupied a bench of his own. Across from Jedidia slouched the short and slightly rotund Grand Commander Chaiyanar, eyes closed, his head lolling back against the wall. Soft, Jedidia thought, soft but cunning. On the bench beside Chaiyanar’s, Lord Modran, handsome and vain, stretched out his lean frame, legs askew. No hint of softness in Modran, Jedidia knew. The man could fight or ride with anyone.