In that moment, Sabatu made his decision. He would fight against those who had destroyed his life, killed his family, and sentenced him to death. Perhaps with Akkad’s help, he could strike some small blow against his enemies. Perhaps someday, maybe he, too, would find and embrace a new family.
Most of all, Grand Commander Chaiyanar, ruler of the city of Sushan, and loyal servant of the King of Elam, needed to be reminded that Sabatu still lived, still fought, and would one day take his revenge. That would be the price Sabatu would require from King Eskkar — the chance to destroy the man who murdered his family.
Chapter 2
3128 BC, eleven months later . .
The midday sun shone down on the grove of trees, awash in a blaze of spring colors. Eskkar, who had not left Akkad’s mud brick walls in the last ten days, couldn’t help but contrast the farm’s cheerful surroundings with the dull and dirty lanes that separated the crowded structures of the city. Nestled against fields of golden wheat and barley, the white sycamores supported a tall and leafy awning. On the other side of the grove, a stretch of pale green and purple alfalfa waved in the afternoon breeze. Further on, Eskkar glimpsed the soft blue flowers of the hardy flax plant.
The farm sounded a melody of life. Brightly feathered chickens clucked as they hunted through the grass. Birds sang overhead, bees hummed as they hovered over yellow and red tulips, and a light wind from the nearby Tigris River rustled the leaves overhead and wafted the soothing scent of living and growing things. The occasional lowing of cattle from the nearby pasture added to the peaceful sounds and smells so familiar to anyone raised on a farm.
Eskkar, however, had not grown up tilling the soil or herding livestock, but rather, so his barbarian ancestors claimed, on the back of a horse. Years later, and with Trella’s help, he had learned the value of planting and harvesting the earth’s gifts, and how these pleasant fields created the wealth that flowed throughout the Land Between the Rivers. But today Eskkar scarcely noticed these signs of serenity as he paced back and forth, striding from one end of the small grove to the other.
From habit, his eyes took in the terrain around him. To the south, well separated from the main farm house, stood crooked fences and pens that enclosed small herds of sheep and pigs. To the north and east, the crops stretched out over the fertile ground for more than a quarter mile, until they merged with those of the neighboring holding. On the west side, a wider than usual irrigation ditch connected this farmstead to the Tigris, which flowed peacefully along about three hundred paces away. The summer breeze waved the grain back and forth, in a soft, undulating motion.
In a few months, the gleaning and harrowing would begin, and this fall every tiller of the soil expected a bountiful crop yield. As usual, Akkad’s farmers kept their eyes and their thoughts on the coming harvest. Most had forgotten the other activity of men that often followed the end of the annual gathering — preparations for war.
Eskkar and Trella had not forgotten. Her agents in Akkad had already promised a generous price for each basket of grain gleaned from the soil, and much of this would be stored in the granaries that Trella had ordered constructed in the past year. Food, Eskkar knew, was as much a weapon of war as the sword. When the Elamite invasion came, the City would be well prepared to feed the influx of people clamoring to take shelter behind its walls.
In the last two and a half years, the King and Queen of Akkad had taken many other small steps to prepare the City for war, most of them in secret. Now the day had arrived to reveal not only what precautions they had put in place, but to set in motion the plans that they hoped would save their City.
Today, that need had brought them to Yavtar’s extensive farm holding a few miles south of Akkad. Important guests were arriving, and their decisions would determine not only Akkad’s future, but the destiny of all the people and all the cities in the Land Between the Rivers.
Eskkar, his hands clasped behind his back, halted at the edge of the sycamores, and stared at the offshoot of the Tigris. One aspect of this homestead made it different from all the others that dotted the countryside south of Akkad — the weathered quay, long enough to dock three good sized boats, that ran alongside the canal.
Many farms possessed a few warped planks or a rocky stone jetty projecting out into the rivers and streams, big enough for one or two of the small and often precarious boats that carried men, crops, and the occasional animal to nearby markets. But this solidly built docking place could handle river craft capable of plying the Tigris from its headwaters to the Great Southern Sea.
The connection to the river had taken months of backbreaking labor to dig out and line with stones to prevent its collapse. That effort had cost the farm’s owner a goodly sum of gold, but that had presented no problem to Yavtar. Over the last ten years, the Boat Master had become one of the richest men in Akkad. His river trading ventures paid handsomely, and his fleet of ships traveled up and down both the Tigris and Euphrates, as well as many of their smaller tributaries that crossed the land from west to east.
Yavtar also fulfilled another role — advisor to the King and Queen of Akkad. His connections to traders throughout the land provided a steady stream of valuable information. In addition, Yavtar’s wide-ranging boats moved supplies needed for Akkad’s army. And when Trella had sought a quiet place away from the city, Yavtar had volunteered both his services and his farm as a place for today’s meeting.
Even that offer fretted on Eskkar’s nerves. He hated relying on others for anything. Now he had to plot and plan in secret, away from his city, lest anyone guess what he and Trella might be doing.
Nevertheless, he had no choice. Akkad, its people still unaware of the looming danger from the east, could not be saved by their rulers’ efforts alone. The efficient military force he had developed, even the city’s thick and high walls, would not be enough. Eskkar required the help of others, and despite his misgivings and reluctance, the time had come to ask for it.
Today’s meeting, carefully arranged and kept secret from all but a handful of the most trustworthy, would soon begin. Not that Eskkar concerned himself with the beginning. He worried more about how the gathering would end.
“Come and sit with me, Eskkar.” Trella’s voice, soft yet persuasive, sounded appropriate in the grove. She had, after all, grown up surrounded by farms.
Eskkar, far too tense to just sit around and wait, ignored his wife’s suggestion. “This seems a strange place to prepare for a war.”
He rapped his fist on the surface of the large table, sheltered from the warm sun by the trees’ canopy, and big enough to accommodate ten or twelve people. Servants had removed the usual benches that flanked the table, and replaced them with seven mismatched chairs, more appropriate to the expected guests. Trella sat there, alone, going over the maps needed for the meeting one last time.
“This war would come to us whether we prepared or not, Husband. Best not to dwell on what brought us here.”
Trella wore a simple brown dress, and her only jewelry was the silver head band that held her hair away from her eyes. Neither she nor Eskkar had wanted to attract any undue attention today by dressing in more formal clothes. As far as the people of Akkad knew, the King and Queen had gone out riding.
Eskkar returned his gaze to the dock. Only one craft lay tied up there — the ship from Sumer that had arrived not long ago. For a moment, he frowned at the gaudy vessel, decorated with a wide stripe of deep red along its hull, and with the yellow sun of Sumer carved and painted on its prow. To his eyes, a boat should be plain and sturdy, whether built for war or trade. Eskkar disliked men who called attention to themselves.