“Good, very good. Make sure you don’t forget a single word. In three days, you will leave Sumer and never return. Move out quietly, and without fanfare. If anyone asks, tell them you are ill, that you have the Bad Blood.”
The terrible punishment sent by the gods that formed pustules on a man’s penis, growing larger and more painful. In time, the disease ravaged body and mind, and reduced its victim to a gibbering idiot.
“In any case, you will leave on the third day, not a day longer, not a day shorter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes, I understand.” Steratakis’s breathing had finally slowed. “And what is your name?”
“Give my name only to your master. I’m called Tarrata. Now don’t get out of your bed until I’m well away.”
With a quick movement, Tarrata backed away from the bed, unbarred the door, and opening it no more than needed, slipped out into the night.
Steratakis lay there until he could get his thoughts under control. He had never been so frightened in his life. Sweat had soaked the blanket beneath him. Instinctively, he touched his neck where the tip of the knife had rested. How in the name of the gods had the man gotten into the house? He’d secured the front door after his servant left, and the blocked and barred rear door hadn’t opened in a year.
The only other way into the chamber was the ladder to the roof. But that had been sealed, too, with knotted ropes and cross branches bound together. Anyone trying to enter that way would make plenty of noise.
Sitting up, he stared at the ceiling. The ropes had been cut, though the slender branches remained. A small man, Steratakis decided, one who could move like a cat and make just as little noise. This Tarrata must have cut through the ropes, then dropped through the beams, all without making a sound loud enough to awaken anyone.
Steratakis shuddered. Never had he imaged that he would be contacted this way, in the dead of night by brute force and at the point of a blade. He’d expected someone to come up to him in the market, perhaps buy a sweet cake or two, deliver the message, and be off.
He shivered. Suddenly he realized that if he had forgotten the name Steratakis, the knife would have cut his throat and he’d be dead. He’d come that close. Yes, time to return to Akkad. He didn’t think he could survive the delivery of a second message.
Chapter 7
Eskkar stared across the table at Trella and Annok-sur, as they delivered the grim tidings. For a moment anger showed on his face. Until now, despite all their preparations for the Elamite invasion, there had always remained a glimmer of hope that it might not happen. After all, any unforeseen event could change Elam’s plans. King Shirudukh might have died, disease or plague might have broken out among his soldiers or cities, or even a crop failure might have upset the Elamite schedule. But the news could not be denied. The enemy was coming.
“You’re sure of the information?” Eskkar kept his voice calm. “And the numbers?”
“Yes, it came from Bracca himself,” Annok-sur said. “Five nights ago, Bracca — he gave the name Tarrata to Steratakis — woke him in the middle of the night. Steratakis was ordered not to leave Sumer before the third day, which is why he just arrived this morning. Likely Bracca wanted to get out of Sumer before anyone noticed a merchant suddenly shutting down his stall and rushing back to Akkad.”
The numbers confirmed Bracca’s first estimate, as well as the routes into the Land Between the Rivers.
“At least we now know who will lead each army,” Eskkar said. “I would have thought that General Jedidia would lead the force to Sumer or Akkad. Everything we’ve learned from Sabatu and the others claimed he was Shirudukh’s ablest general.”
In the last year, Annok-sur had paid deserters from Elam’s armies for information about their leaders, but none had provided as much intelligence as Sabatu.
“Perhaps that is the very reason he was given the fewest soldiers,” Trella said. “King Shirudukh likely does not want his strongest general commanding such a large force, especially one so far from home. With that many soldiers, Jedidia might decide to rule Akkad in his own name, or even return to Elam at the head of an invading army of his own. Better to keep him down, dependent on Shirudukh’s decisions.”
“It seems there are plots everywhere,” Eskkar said. “Still this may help us. Sabatu says that Modran is stubborn and proud. He may not believe that we would dare to challenge him, or that he can be stopped.”
“We have less than three months,” Trella said. “Now we must set all our plans into motion.”
“Yes. I’ll summon all the commanders.” Eskkar leaned back in his chair. The days of indecision and doubt had passed. Knowing the worst always calmed him down. “It’s time to tell them what they’ll be up against.”
“I’ll send word to Sargon,” Trella said. “He should be here as well. Draelin is available, if you approve.” Trella paused for a moment, no doubt thinking of the dangers her son would soon face.
“Yes, but Draelin must return as soon as possible. He will be needed here to help Alcinor.” He sighed. “Sumer and Isin must also be told,” Eskkar said.
“I will have messengers on their way tomorrow at first light,” Trella said. “We promised to tell them the moment we learned something new.”
“What shall I do with Steratakis? There won’t be any more messages, and he knows too much.” Annok-sur’s question caught Eskkar by surprise. He had already forgotten the messenger.
“Send him to Nuzi,” Trella said. “Tooraj can keep him under guard for the next few months. After that, it won’t matter. But warn Steratakis to keep silent. Not a word of this must get out yet, or there will be panic in the City. I don’t even want the name Tarrata mentioned.”
Tooraj commanded all the troops guarding the mine and its surroundings. His soldiers protected each shipment of gold and silver that flowed downstream to Akkad.
“And I must tell Sabatu that Chaiyanar will be coming to Sumer,” Eskkar said. “I promised him that I would give him the chance to fight against his torturer.”
“Orodes must also be told,” Trella said. “He must have time to prepare what he needs.”
Orodes, for managing the mine at Nuzi, received one part out of every hundred that the mine produced. With that tiny fraction, he had become the richest man in Akkad.
“Are you sure he will do as you ask?” Eskkar knew Orodes had grown used to a life of ease.
“Yes, I’m sure Annok-sur and I can convince him,” Trella said. “He does owe us a great deal.”
Eskkar nodded. With Annok-sur present, Orodes would understand the message. “Trella, will you be able to obtain everything that my soldiers will need?”
In many ways, Trella had the most difficult assignment of all. It would fall to her and her clerks to obtain and distribute the vast mountains of supplies and weapons Eskkar required. Food, water, swords, arrows, bows, spears, all those were obvious enough. But she also needed to ensure that the soldiers received clothing, sandals, helmets, leather armor, slings, and bronze bullets for them. In short, all the little things that, lacking, could halt an army or bring it to ruin.
“Yes, my clerks are ready,” Trella said. “When the time is right, I will call on the all the nobles and traders throughout the land for their assistance. They will deliver what we need.”
Eskkar grunted. Yes, they would deliver whatever she asked of them, or they would find themselves waiting for that drop of poison in their cup, or a knife between their ribs. Nor would any dare to risk doing less than his utmost. If Akkad survived, Trella would remember who had not made every effort to support the war.
“Then I will leave Akkad in your hands.” Eskkar felt grateful that at least the long period of inaction had ended. “I will begin my inspection of the training camps tomorrow, to ensure that they are ready.”
“Take care, Husband. Your soldiers will need you more than ever before.”