Eskkar laughed. “We’ll need to get you a breastplate for the next battle.”
As they rode back to the stream, another cheer erupted from his men. They might not understand all that had transpired, but they understood well enough that there would be no more fighting, and that they would be returning home to their wives and children.
Eskkar considered what he had accomplished — a decisive victory over the Alur Meriki, one more than enough to convince them to accept peace on his terms. The Akkadians had lost men, but in return Eskkar had gained the promise of a thousand warriors for the coming fight against the Elamites. And the additional horses Urgo promised would enable Hathor to add another two hundred or more fighters to his cavalry.
Men would say that Eskkar’s luck had aided him again, but he knew luck had little to do with this victory. The Alur Meriki had brought defeat upon themselves. They had kept their eyes to south, when Eskkar and his soldiers had come from the west. Nor had they taken precautions to secure the water before their arrival. And most of all, they had underestimated Akkad’s power, and failed to prepare for a real confrontation.
It was, Eskkar knew, a hard lesson. All warfare, to some extent, is based on deception. Akkad had seemed a distant threat, and Trella’s rumors, carefully fed to those greedy traders who dealt with the barbarians, had placed the city’s soldiers far from the northern frontier
The Alur Meriki would not make the same mistakes again, and Eskkar felt satisfaction that he had turned aside at least part of their hatred. Now it was time to make a true peace with them, to make sure this conflict never arose again.
The ongoing relationship with the Alur Meriki would be difficult, but Trella would find a way to help them and in so doing, gradually turn them to Akkad’s side. She would also find a way to make sure the peace held. All and all, Trella would be pleased about his arrangement with the Clan. Eskkar suspected that she would be less happy about his two fights and his riding unprotected into the Alur Meriki camp.
Eskkar sighed. He did not look forward to that part of their coming discussion.
12
Twelve days after the battle, and just before sunset, a weary but still jubilant Eskkar rode through the gates of Akkad at the head of a column of one hundred horsemen. Messengers had reached the city days earlier, to announce his latest battlefield success. Nevertheless, as word spread through Akkad at the sight of the approaching cavalry, the inhabitants clogged the lanes from the city’s main gate to the Compound, hoping to catch a glimpse of the King as he returned. The sight of his tall figure riding A-tuku elicited cheers from the throngs that nearly blocked the riders’ path.
Many of Akkad’s denizens had kin in the northern parts of the country, and they rejoiced in the knowledge that friends and family would be spared any further raids from the Alur Meriki. Others in the crowd had lived through the desperate siege of Orak, and even more through the attack on the city during the war with Sumer.
Relief showed on the faces of those who had survived that attack. For villagers who once shook in terror at the mere mention of the barbarians, this success meant so much more.
To celebrate the victory over the Alur Meriki, Eskkar had again donned the bronze breastplate and his luxurious cloak, with the image of a fierce hawk stitched across his shoulder, for his entrance into Akkad. He knew the armor and garment would impress his own people as much as it had the barbarians. The gleaming metal caught the last rays of the sun as A-tuku cantered through the twisting lanes of the still-growing city and its cheering inhabitants.
Abandoning his usual reserve, Eskkar waved his hand at the cheering throng eager to catch a glimpse of their king and deliverer.
A-tuku reflected the spirit of its rider, and its hooves kicked clods of dirt into the air as it snorted and pranced its way through the press. Some of the crowd’s exuberance came from the effect of too much ale or wine. Many had started drinking early, not waiting for the official three days of feasting to begin. Still, everyone wanted to celebrate the soldiers’ bravery and give thanks to the Goddess Ishtar for the city’s good fortune.
Eskkar felt as much satisfaction as his subjects. The strategy he and his commanders had developed had worked even better than anyone expected. Battles rarely went as planned, but this clash had succeeded beyond Eskkar’s most optimistic expectations. Not only had the threat from the Alur Meriki vanished, but Eskkar had gained a new ally for the coming war with the Elamites.
And within the Great Clan, the remnants of the once-disgraced Hawk Clan would increase his influence among his father’s people, as well as a handful of warriors sworn to serve him. In the future, these older warriors would help facilitate the exchange of goods and information between the two peoples.
To strengthen the new alliance, Eskkar knew Trella would soon have gifts and supplies moving toward the Alur Meriki. Not that he expected any sudden show of harmony between the two hereditary enemies. But the seeds of mutual respect had been planted. It would take years, perhaps many years, but at last the chance to build a bond between villagers and steppes warriors existed.
And he now had one thousand warriors at his command! Such a force, used properly as light cavalry and aimed at the right target, would be more devastating than two or three times that number of Akkadian trained horsemen.
Eskkar swung down from his horse in the courtyard of the Compound with a smile of satisfaction on his face. Almost every one of the household servants and guards had turned out, to greet his arrival with words of praise and congratulations. As always when he returned from a hard day’s ride, Eskkar strode through the courtyard to the well at the rear of the house, to cleanse the dust and dirt from his body.
With the Tigris so near, many of the wealthier residents had dug their own wells, and Eskkar and Trella’s dwelling was no exception. Their well was surrounded on two sides by the Compound’s walls, while the house formed the third barrier. A large bench offered seating, and two small trees provided shade for the tiny garden during the day. In Eskkar’s Compound, the water source provided a private area where the Lord and Mistress of the house could relax or bathe in relative seclusion.
Tossing his sword and belt to one of the servants, he stripped off his rank garments and kicked them aside. Another servant poured the first of many buckets of cold water over his naked body, while one of the women handed Eskkar a square of linen, which he used to scrub the grime and horse smell from his body.
It took ten buckets before Eskkar finally felt clean, and told the servant to stop. Picking up another piece of linen, Eskkar dried his face and chest. Trella joined him, carrying a clean tunic and a larger, more luxuriant drying cloth. The servants, smiling broadly, respected their wish for privacy, and left them alone.
“By the gods, you grow more beautiful each day.” The words slipped from Eskkar’s mouth without volition. He stroked her long, thick hair for a moment, before taking her face in his hands. Nearly thirty days had passed since his departure, and to his stirring manhood, it seemed even longer. He took her in his arms, and held her close.
“Welcome back, Husband. You’ve done well.” For a fleeting moment, she pressed herself against his naked body before stepping back and handing him the fresh garment.
Eskkar had shared his life with Trella long enough to know when something was amiss. His pleasant thoughts about a relaxing romp in their bed chamber before supper faded.
He slipped the tunic on, ignoring the soft feel of the fine garment. “What’s wrong?” He reached out and grasped her by the shoulders.
“There’s been an. . incident with Sargon.”