Naxos broke the silence first. “A lot of men.”
“Yes, but we don’t have to fight all of them.” Hathor pointed to the well beaten track that led to the city. “We can come down the road until we’re almost at the city. Then we sweep to the left, and attack the enemy on the south side of the city. Either we drive them into the river or up against the walls.”
“This is better than we’d hoped,” Naxos agreed. “Where is the fording place?”
In the war against Sumer, Hathor had studied all the approaches to the city and the surrounding countryside. That personal knowledge of the terrain had been one more reason why Eskkar gave Hathor the responsibility of command. During the long ride through the mountains, he and Naxos had discussed the many possibilities of what could await them when they reached the cove, on the ride to Sumer, and even what they might find when they arrived at the city.
Of course they had hoped to take the enemy by surprise, but every eventuality had to be considered. The worst situation, that they failed to take the Elamites by surprise, would have resulted in their facing a slightly more numerous contingent of enemy cavalry. While the Elamites had a larger force of horse fighters, a sizable number of these would likely be scouting the north, to prevent any reinforcements or attacks from Isin and Akkad.
So even a direct attack by the enemy might not prove disastrous. And Naxos and Hathor could always slip across the Tigris in relative safety.
But the surprise appeared complete. Now the long planning sessions allowed the two commanders to make rapid decisions.
“The fording place is over there, about a mile south of the walls.” Hathor pointed toward the river on their left. “You can just make out the two sandbars that divide the water. We can safely ford there.”
“Once we cross over, we should be able to hold the west bank, at least for a time.”
“There’s a good chance we can ride right up to them.” Hathor couldn’t keep a hint of excitement from his voice. “With the captured pennants from the cove, even when they see us, they may take us for more reinforcements.
Naxos took another long look at the enemy position. For perhaps fifty heartbeats, he said nothing, just stared at the enemy encampments. “I’ve fought many fights, Hathor, but I’ve never led so many men into battle, against so many.” He took a deep breath. “What do you suggest?”
Hathor understood the man’s pride, and his reluctance to take advice from another. But Naxos wanted to win, and obviously he knew now was not the time to spurn the wisdom of others.
“King Naxos, I think we should just continue up the trail, until we’re ready to attack. Then hit the enemy south of the city.” Drawing his knife, Hathor scratched lines in the dirt. Soon Naxos added his own ideas, and the two men worked out the battle plan. It didn’t take long, and when they finished, both men were smiling.
They slipped away from the edge of the trees, and returned to the horses. Hathor swung onto his horse. “Now we just have to tell the commanders. They can tell the men as we ride. I want every man to know what’s going to happen.”
“That won’t take long.” Naxos mounted his horse, but ordered the scouts to stay behind and keep watch, until the Akkadian cavalry arrived. “Our men have trained for this kind of battle, and they’re ready for a fight. They only need to know where to ride and who to kill.”
Chapter 22
Grand Commander Chaiyanar sat on a cushioned and comfortable chair atop a small grassy knoll that gave him a good view of Sumer’s walls and its main gate. The chair had accompanied him on the ship from Sushan. Not trusting such a valuable possession on a pack animal, one of his personal guards had carried it, grunting under the weight, all the way from the beach.
Short in stature and with more than a hint of an expanding belly, Chaiyanar had participated in or directed numerous sieges in the last ten years. Early on he’d learned the importance of a comfortable place to sit.
Overhead, a reasonably clean white awning, fastened to four tall stakes driven into the ground, provided the only patch of shade. The Sumerians had cut down every tree, and burned every bush within miles of the city’s walls. But Chaiyanar expected the usual petty inconveniences, and no longer let such things bother him.
A small table stood at his left hand, holding pitchers of water and wine, as well as a platter containing dates, honey, and bread, everything covered by a white cloth to keep off the bothersome flies. His chief servant hovered nearby, eager for the chance to do his master’s bidding. At Chaiyanar’s right, a naked girl knelt, waiting to perform more personal tasks.
Commander Chaiyanar had less than thirty-two seasons, but had already demonstrated both his skill and his loyalty to his Uncle Shirudukh, the King of the Elamites. In the last five years alone, Chaiyanar had besieged three cities, and captured every one.
The walls of Sumer impressed him not at all. His men had surrounded the city four days ago, to make sure no one escaped, and that no reinforcements could join the defenders. After his first inspection, Chaiyanar estimated that it would take about twenty days to breach the walls and storm the city, certainly no more than thirty. Since then, nothing had caused him to change his schedule.
The spies who revealed information about Sumer, its strengths and weaknesses, had gauged it well. No unexpected surprises, no hidden defenses, no increased numbers of defenders on its walls. If the city proved as wealthy as the spies declared, Chaiyanar would use its gold to gratify his every need for the rest of his life. Sumer, King Shirudukh had promised, would be his to rule.
Meanwhile, his men, nearly sixteen thousand strong, knew what to do, and they had their orders. Some dug trenches, to protect them as they worked their way closer to the city’s defenders. Others made shields and ladders, while some sharpened digging sticks to help weaken the walls.
A siege remained a complicated affair, and Chaiyanar had no intention of simply starving Sumer into submission. That might take months, and he didn’t intend to delay the conquest of the other Sumerian cities. He inspected his men’s progress twice daily, at midday and again just before sundown. In between, he took his ease or amused himself with his slave girls.
His men had captured only eight women since they reached Sumer’s outskirts, and, following his standing order, the soldiers brought all of them to him first, so he could choose however many he wanted for himself. This time he had selected two. One had long blond tresses, a rarity among his own people.
She had proved most satisfactory last night and again this morning. Now she waited at his feet, to bring him food or wine or anything else he needed. Later he would have her suck his rod while he watched his soldiers sweating under the fierce Sumerian sun.
A hundred paces away, his senior commanders had set up three tables, where they issued orders and resolved the usual problems with any siege. The commanders went about their business quietly, so as not to disturb their general. He’d made it clear to them years ago that he did not want to hear the endless details of every decision as the siege progressed.
Chaiyanar sipped wine and contemplated his future city. He would have to rename it in honor of his uncle. But aside from that courtesy, the city and lands of Sumer would belong to him and his descendants for all time, a generous gift from King Shirudukh. No doubt Chaiyanar would have to return to Sushan yearly, to prostrate himself before the king and renew his oaths of fealty, but that minor inconvenience could be borne.
He took another sip of the well-watered wine, then reached down and stroked the girl’s blond tresses, before tightening his grip on her hair and twisting her head so he could see her eyes, wide with the pain. Chaiyanar enjoyed hurting his concubines, watching their expressions change when he inflicted pain on their bodies.