When Thutmose-sin reached the area set aside for the gathering of clan leaders, he gazed in satisfaction at the men waiting there. Bekka, Urgo, and Altanar had been joined by Suijan, Narindar, and Praxa. Bar’rack arrived last. Accompanying Bar’rack were the warriors who guarded the caravan, along with the old men and boys. He also brought a pack train loaded down with all the arrows, lances, and other weapons normally stored in the caravan’s wagons.
Thutmose-sin settled himself on the ground beneath the great standard of the Alur Meriki. Each of its feathers, ox-tails, and leather loops represented a particular clan, or commemorated a victory or conquest, some of which no one any longer remembered.
The clan leaders followed their Sarum’s example. Each was attended only by one of his most trusted or senior subcommander. Thutmose-sin studied their faces as they settled into their places.
All the leaders looked grim. Each had ascended to the hilltop and stared at the Akkadians in silence. Even the fools and loud talkers among the warriors realized that this would be no easy victory.
More than twelve years had passed since the mighty assault on Orak had decimated the Alur Meriki. Almost four years later, seeking revenge for that defeat, the Clan, at the urgings of the Sumerians, had launched a night attack on Akkad’s walls. The leaders of the Great Clan had split into two factions over the attack, and Thutmose-sin faced the most serious threat to his rule.
He’d objected to that attack, but a large force of his warriors chose to join with those willing to battle Akkad. Fortunately for Thutmose-sin, the attack had failed, and most of those opposing him died, trapped and cut down within the walls of the dirt eater’s city.
Yet the stupidity of the attack had also taken its toll, both in lost warriors and honor. The Great Clan had not yet regained the strength it boasted before the first attack on Orak. Now Thutmose-sin and the Alur Meriki faced a desperate battle, and for the first time, one not of their own choosing. Every clan leader sitting in the circle knew how much was at stake.
“For almost two days I have studied the Akkadians.” Thutmose-sin chose not to use the usual name of dirt eaters. Whatever low beginnings these men from Akkad might have had, they had turned into fighters, and the sooner his clan leaders and warriors accepted that fact, the better.
“They are well prepared to face us, and they have used the time to strengthen their position. They show no fear. They may not have food for more than a few days, but they have the water. A hungry man can still fight. A warrior weakened by thirst is not as strong. We must drive them away from the stream, and soon. Another two or three days, four at the most, and we will all be opening the veins and drinking the blood of our few surviving horses to stay alive.”
He let the words sink in, as he glanced around the circle. No one challenged his assertions.
“So we must make a choice, right here and right now, about how to fight and how to drive them away from the water. If we fail to do that, the Alur Meriki may be finished as a people. And let me not hear loud talk about wiping these invaders out to the last man. I would let the Akkadians ride away tomorrow unscathed, if we could somehow secure the water for the caravan.”
Thutmose-sin turned to Bar’rack. “How soon before the caravan reaches this place?”
“I made sure the wagon masters understood the need for speed. We marked the trail, and the caravan will travel as far as it can into the evening. It should be here by midmorning tomorrow.”
“Good.” Thutmose-sin did not feel comfortable about leaving the caravan undefended and so far behind, but it couldn’t be helped. “When they arrive, the path to the water must be free.”
He glanced around the circle of warriors. “We’ve already wasted two days gathering our strength. Now it is time to plan the defeat of these Akkadians.”
Murmurs of approval greeted Thutmose-sin’s words.
“To kill these dirt eaters, we must come up with a new way to fight. We cannot waste our warriors’ lives by charging across the stream. Chulum’s foolishness at least convinced our men of that. The first to die will slow our approach, and leave the survivors easy targets for their archers. Even if we are successful, too many of our men will die. Since that is so, I believe we should attack at night and on foot. There will be little moon, and we should be able to get close to the stream before we launch our attack.”
“On foot and at night!” Suijan shook his head. “No warrior with any honor would agree to such a battle plan! Better to die on a horse, under the sun and sky.”
The man’s outburst surprised Thutmose-sin. Suijan had proven himself to be strong fighter and wise beyond his years. “You have been here less than a day, Suijan.” Thutmose-sin kept his temper despite the man’s angry words. “Let us ask Bekka, who has not only been here the longest, but who has actually ridden against these invaders.”
Bekka shifted his body while he collected his words, surprised at being asked to offer his opinion ahead of his elders. “I think the dirt eaters are waiting for us to charge across the river. One hundred of them stopped our charge before we reached midstream. Struggling through the water, not one warrior got close enough to throw a lance. I thought Chulum and I had wasted our men’s lives. Now I agree with our Sarum that we have learned from their deaths. If we ride against them on horseback, we will be destroyed.”
“How can you be certain that an attack at night will succeed?” Praxa, the oldest of the clan leaders after Urgo, leaned forward, his eyes shifting from Bekka to Thutmose-sin.
“I cannot be certain,” the Sarum replied. “But at night, the long bowmen of the Akkadians will not be able to see us, nor will they have a large target to aim at. Eskkar has taught these men to aim for the horses. If we hug the ground as we approach, we may be able to cross the stream and close in on them.”
“How deep is the stream?” Altanar’s question showed support for his Sarum.
“Only above the knees, and a little deeper in the center.” Bekka answered without glancing at Thutmose-sin. “There it might reach mid thigh for a few steps.
“It will slow down our men.” Altanar kept his voice even. “But it would also slow down horses, who will be fearful of the depth of the water. At least we can tell the men what to expect.”
“And whatever slingers or bowmen the Akkadians have on the cliff will be of little use,” Bekka went on. “Once we close in, they will have no targets.”
Thutmose-sin waited for a moment, but no one offered anything else. “Urgo, you have not spoken. What would you recommend?”
Every eye turned toward the old warrior. He, too, took a moment before he replied.
“I agree that a mounted attack would fail, and with heavy losses. Eskkar will have planned well for just such an encounter. But an attack at night will be almost as bad. Do you think Eskkar will not be expecting this? Besides, our warriors are not used to fighting in the dark, while the dirt eaters have shown themselves to be good fighters after the sun goes down. Do not forget the lessons of Orak. At the great siege, we tried several attacks at night, and they all failed, but the dirt eaters raided our horses in the dark. And when Rethnar tried to slip into the city at night during their war with Sumer, his men were trapped and slaughtered like sheep in a killing pen.”
No one wanted to be reminded of Rethnar’s failure. At least he had the good fortune to get himself killed during the attack, which had saved Thutmose-sin the bother of doing it.
Or Bar’rack might have done it. He had ridden with Rethnar in that battle and fought in the Akkadian city. Afterwards, when the survivors collected themselves, Bar’rack had searched through the surviving and shattered warriors, naked blade in hand, calling out Rethnar’s name and demanding a challenge.
“What you say is true,” Thutmose-sin conceded. “But I see no other path to follow.”