Sam Barone: Battle For Empire

At the same time, he’d proven himself both a strong fighter and a cunning leader on the battlefield. Bekka had also eliminated the only other clan leader who’d dared to challenge his right to be Sarum. And with the large number of captured horses divided up among his men, Bekka would rule the great clan uncontested in the future.

All the same, the news of Trayack’s death brought a smile to Sargon’s face. “At least I won’t have to worry about Trayack any longer. And you say that Unegen is now a chief?”

“Yes, Bekka gave Unegen all of Trayack’s warriors.” Den’rack took another sip of water from his cup. “Chief Bekka praised Unegen before all the warriors in the camp, and declared that much of the Carchemishi victory belonged to him.”

“And you are now a leader of fifty,” Garal said. “What did Bekka say of your efforts?”

Den’rack could not conceal his satisfaction. “I, too, received some praise. With my share of the spoils, I shall have no trouble finding a few new wives.”

Everyone laughed.

“The Ur Nammu owe you and your people much,” Sargon said. “The distrust that many once felt is almost gone. Even I can see that.”

“It’s true,” Jennat said. “Den’rack, no Ur Nammu warrior will ever forget what your people did for us.”

“So what brought Chief Bekka back here?” Sargon changed the subject. No matter how sincere the debt, no one liked being reminded of an obligation.

“I’m sure he has more important things to do than count horses.” Sargon knew that the others wanted to hear the answer to that question, but were too polite to ask. He, as the outsider, could raise it easily enough.

Soon after Bekka’s arrival, the Sarum of the Alur Meriki and his clan chiefs had met with Subutai, Fashod, and Chinua. Even now, they continued their talk on the edge of the camp, where none could hear their words.

“I do not know. . for certain.” Den’rack hesitated, obviously concerned about saying too much. “After killing Trayack, Chief Bekka spoke long into the night with Chief Urgo, Unegen, and a few others. But he said nothing on the journey here. Some of us thought Chief Bekka returned to meet with you, Sargon of Akkad.”

Sargon laughed. “I doubt they need my counsel on anything.”

Hoof beats sounded throughout the camp, and the four men turned to watch a scout galloping into camp, his horse covered with sweat. The rider headed straight for Subutai’s tent, paused for a moment, then continued on to where the leaders were meeting.

“I wonder what news he brings,” Garal mused. “That horse is finished for the day.”

“He was patrolling to the south,” Jennat said. “Not much danger likely to come from there.”

In that direction lay the empty lands, and beyond them, the outlying forts and territory of Akkad. Everyone turned to Sargon.

“Perhaps word from Akkad has come,” Sargon offered. “More than enough time has passed for word to reach the city and for my father to send a reply.”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Jennat turned to Den’rack. “What do your people think about the Akkadians?”

Den’rack shrugged. “No warrior likes to be reminded of the man who defeated him. But Sargon’s father is a brave man. I could not believe my eyes when he rode into our midst after the battle at the stream. I thought certain some angry warrior would strike him down, but no one dared challenge him. Perhaps if Thutmose-sin had ruled more wisely, that battle would not have happened.”

“My father is a brave man.” Sargon uttered the words without enthusiasm.

“As are you, Sargon of Akkad.” Den’rack broke an uncomfortable silence. “Not many would have ridden into our camp the way you did. I thought certain you would die that night at Trayack’s hands.”

Before Sargon could reply, a young boy, one of Subutai’s messengers, raced toward them.

“Your father approaches, Sargon.” The boy had to pause to catch his breath. “He will arrive tomorrow, sometime after midday.”

Sargon thanked the lad, who nodded and darted off.

“What will you say to him?” Garal knew all about the rift between father and son. “He may want you to return to Akkad.”

“In that case he will be disappointed.”

“You intend to stay here with the Ur Nammu?” Den’rack couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

Sargon nodded. “I have a wife now, and duties as a warrior. Besides, my father has no need of my services.”

“Well, there is a time for all things.” Den’rack settled back on his heels. “I for one am glad that you will stay with the warriors. Otherwise life would be far too dull.”

Garal glanced at Jennat. “Oh, yes, wherever Sargon goes, trouble is sure to follow.”

That evening, after his friends had gone, Sargon closed the tent flap against the night’s breezes. He unlaced his sandals and stretched out on the thick blanket, yet another prize from Kamanis’s bower of plenty. Sargon watched as Tashanella dropped to her knees and pulled her dress up and over her head. Her long tresses caught for a moment, and she had to shake her head to loosen the dark strands.

Her body continued to delight him, the firm breasts that jutted out over the flat stomach. She smiled at his gaze, no longer as shy as she had been in the beginning.

“So, Husband, your father comes. What will you say to him?” She leaned over him, and placed her hands on his shoulders, letting her breasts brush against his lips.

His father. It was always his father. And when it wasn’t, his mother’s presence made itself felt. Tonight, however, Sargon refused to think about them.

His parents and their concerns no longer troubled him. Subutai could never abandon the debt he owed Sargon. The leader of the Ur Nammu had already acknowledged as much. He’d given Sargon his favorite daughter, and promised him a high place among the clan’s warriors.

“Perhaps you should ask what he will say to me.” Sargon brushed his lips against a firm nipple, until Tashanella gasped with pleasure. “Not that the King of Akkad has any power over me.”

His wife snuggled against him, and he felt the warmth from her body against his chest. “What will he say when he learns of our marriage? Will he be angry?”

Sargon shook his head. “No, that’s not his way. It takes a great deal before he loses his temper. Once he does, though. .”

“I hope he thinks I am pretty enough for his son, prettier than all the girls you left behind in Akkad.”

“Of that, you need not have any fear.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her throat. “None of the soft and lazy women in Akkad can even come close to your beauty.”

He shivered as her hand traveled down his chest and moved between his thighs. Sargon heard a giggle of delight when she found him hard and ready.

“Let us forget about my father.” Sargon heard the hoarseness in his voice, as the desire rushed through him. He cupped her breast, and wondered if his father had ever felt such passion for a woman. His mother, of course, was far too cold and calculating to make a good bedmate.

Then all thoughts of his parents disappeared as he pulled Tashanella down onto the blanket. Laughing, she spread her legs wide for him, and the pleasure of the gods soon enveloped them both.

The sun had just passed midday when Eskkar halted the column of riders on the crest of the hill overlooking the Ur Nammu camp. From habit, he let his gaze roam over the landscape, scanning every part of the countryside from horizon to horizon. Much had changed since his last visit.

To his right, where the Ur Nammu tents had originally stood, Eskkar saw the blackened sod and trampled down earth of the abandoned campsite. Whatever Subutai’s people had left behind, the invaders had burned or taken with them before they pursued the fleeing clan. Now only debris littered the charred ground.