Fashod, who had ridden over these lands years ago, agreed with Den’rack. “I don’t remember this watering hole, but the trail we’re taking shortens our journey by about twenty miles. When we first met up with Den’rack and his men, they had just finished the southeast to northwest leg on their patrol. With plenty of water, the horses should hold up better.”
No one replied. They would either arrive in time to help in the fight, or they would be forced to take their revenge alone.
After a cold supper, Sargon spread his blanket. But before he could roll himself up, the leader of the Alur Meriki, Unegen, crossed over from where his warriors had settled down.
“I heard your words last night at the Council Meeting, Sargon of Akkad.” Unegen squatted on the ground beside Sargon. “I fought against your father at the stream, and I was the one who first brought the news to Thutmose-sin of the one you call Hathor. Many in our clan, and even more in the others, doubted Bekka’s decision, despite the fact that he was outnumbered, to yield the stream to Hathor’s men. When you described the strength of the Akkadians, many who heard your words realized that Bekka had made the right choice.”
“Chief Bekka has much wisdom,” Sargon agreed, wondering where this was leading.
“He has taught me much,” Unegen said. “I have less than twenty-three seasons, but already I am a leader of twenty.”
Sargon’s hadn’t thought the man so young.
“And now,” Unegen went on, “those who had doubts about Bekka becoming Sarum, including myself, no longer feel that way. He will make a good Sarum.”
“I hope your people and mine can keep peace between us.”
Unegen snorted. “Once I would never have thought such a thing. But the old days are gone. Thutmose-sin believed that he could hold back the dirt eaters, destroy their farms and villages to keep them weak. He failed, and now your cities have grown too strong. A new way must be found. I wept when your father killed Thutmose-sin, but I see that as long as he ruled our clan, many more warriors would have faced death, and for nothing.”
“You are wise beyond your years, Unegen of the Alur Meriki. Perhaps some day, you will be the Sarum of your clan.”
Unegen laughed, a cheerful sound that contrasted with his sober demeanor. “I think that would be a bad day for my people. But I wish you well in your quest, Sargon, son of Eskkar.” He rose and returned to his warriors.
“The next Sarum of the Alur Meriki,” Fashod, sitting only a few paces away, had heard their words, “talking to the next ruler of Akkad.”
“I will never rule in Akkad.” Sargon uttered the words with conviction. “My father has sent me from his house, and I have no wish to return there.”
“As time passes, boys turn into men and learn wisdom, and even fathers relent their angry words. No man knows what the future will bring. A few days ago, we believed we were riding to our deaths.”
“We’ll know our fates soon enough.” As Sargon rolled himself up in his blanket, that thought remained in his head. Though to his surprise, the idea of his death did not trouble him as much as his concern for Tashanella.
Three days later, just after midday, Sargon and his companions neared the end of their journey. One of Unegen’s scouts came galloping back toward the main party, waving his arms. Sargon, riding just behind Unegen, with Fashod and Den’rack on either side, heard the scout’s report.
The Carchemishi were only a few miles ahead, and two Alur Meriki patrols, one of them the men Den’rack had left behind, were keeping them under observation. Yassur, a leader of ten in the Serpent Clan, had taken command of the observing scouts.
Unegen frowned at the all too brief report. He ordered the scout to return to his position, and the rest of the bone-weary riders continued on.
Every man, every horse, had been pushed to its limit. Two horses had gone lame, and had to be abandoned. But despite his fatigue, Sargon took comfort in one matter — he had guided and cared for his mounts, and ridden just as hard as any of the warriors.
The months of incessant riding and training under Garal had come to fruition. The highest praise came from the fact that no one noticed or commented on his riding skills. The Alur Meriki, he decided, had accepted him as Eskkar’s son, and thus no longer considered him a dirt eater.
Less than three miles passed before they reached the first Alur Meriki patrol, the one commanded by Yassur. Unegen’s scout had informed these outriders about the Ur Nammu and Sargon. Still, Yassur stared with open curiosity at the strangers, apparently fully accepted as equals, who rode in with Unegen.
Unegen swung down from his horse with a grunt of relief. “What can you tell us?”
For a moment Yassur appeared taken aback at the sight of Sargon, a dirt eater, and Fashod, an Ur Nammu warrior, moving up to stand beside Unegen and Den’rack.
Yassur recovered soon enough. “The main force of the enemy caught up with the Ur Nammu yesterday. The Ur Nammu have taken refuge on a hilltop less than three miles away, and are now surrounded by the invaders. That is why we’ve remained here, behind this hill. Their patrols don’t come this far east or ride into the hills.”
“Can we see them?” Unegen glanced up at the hill.
“Yes, you can see everything from here.” Yassur led the way on foot, scrambling back and forth as he guided them toward the summit. Just before the crest, he threw himself down and crawled the last few steps, until he could peer out at the plain beyond.
Sargon and the others followed his example. Looking west, he saw the Carchemishi forces, formed in a ring around the base of a lone plateau that pushed itself up from the earth. Only flat ground surrounded it. The hill rose up about two hundred paces above the valley floor, and appeared to have only one gentle slope, facing north, where a horse and rider could make the ascent.
From Sargon’s vantage point, he saw the hundreds, even thousands, of Carchemishi who encircled the plateau, most of them concentrated near the north face and its slope to the top. The hill, with its single entry, made for a good defensive position. There might be other trails to reach the summit on the far side, but Sargon couldn’t see any from here.
Still, if the hill provided a good place for defense, it also allowed the Ur Nammu to be surrounded and trapped. It would be impossible for Subutai’s warriors to break out, even if they wanted to, without a desperate fight.
But Sargon and his companions wanted to break in, not out, so that problem wasn’t as important for now. “How many invaders are there?”
Yassur lifted his shoulders, then dropped them. “At least seventeen hundred, maybe two thousand. More than half of them are mounted, which is why they caught up with the Ur Nammu so quickly. Those on foot only arrived this morning, along with a long pack train of horses and some carts. Women and children are there, too.”
Women invariably followed soldiers, traveling with them and helping carry weapons and supplies. To any army in the field, they were both a benefit and a curse. They helped their men, but they consumed food and slowed down the pace of any march. In the war against Sumer, Eskkar had ordered women out of the ranks several times.
When he heard the numbers of the enemy, Sargon exchanged glances with Fashod. The two Carchemishi bands must have joined, and they appeared even more numerous than expected.
“Why haven’t the Carchemishi attacked?”
“The Ur Nammu aren’t going anywhere, and there is only the one approach,” Yassur explained. “But the only water nearby is a tiny stream that flows from the base of the ridge, and so now the Ur Nammu have no water. The invaders can afford to wait a few more days, until the Ur Nammu are weakened by thirst. Then they will either surrender or be destroyed.”
Unegen turned to Fashod. “How many warriors do the Ur Nammu have?”