People of the Inner Sea (The Age of Bronze) (35 page)

The high priest declared the sacrifice acceptably pure and Mirniptáha nominally presided over the distribution of the various portions of the carcass.  His royal feet swimming in gore, he gestured at each part held up by the assistants and pointed out his chosen recipient.  His face remained as pale as death but for a red patch on each cheek.  Sweat trickled down in streams from beneath his heavy, red and white crown.

When the ceremony was over, Siptáha whispered to the aged monarch, "Let me address the army in your place, my great royal father, may life, prosperity, and health be yours."  The old man nodded weakly, taking the arm of a surprised Amun-musís as the taller man moved away.

"I speak on behalf of the Great House of the Black Land, our king and golden Harú, the falcon of the beautiful silver plumes, Mirniptáha Hutpí-hírma!" Siptáha called out.  "He stormed forth from his mother's womb to establish his fame with great victories, to trample all enemies beneath his feet.  He does not care whether it is ten chiefs who face him or ten thousand.  For last night he had a dream, a most promising sign from the gods."

Amun-musís frowned, whispering to the aged sovereign, "My royal father – life, prosperity, and health to you – why was I not told about this?"  But the weary monarch did not respond, wheezing for all he was worth after exertion of the ceremony of the sacrifice.

Siptáha continued his address.  "My royal father saw his divine patron, the great god Ptáha, in the form of a statue.  The image was of immense height, taller even than the colossi raised by his earthly but also divine father, the good god Ramusís, may he rest in Ra's heavenly horizon forever!  Ptáha extended his diorite arms and gave the Great House a magical sword, with these words, 'Take this, my beloved son, and cut down the chiefs of all the Nine Bows, your wicked enemies from every polluted land.  I have decreed a monumental victory for you!'  Those were the god's very words."

The native Mízriyans were awed by the announcement, nodding with satisfaction.  But the foreign troop commanders were not as pleased.  "Who is this Ptáha fellow?" a Káushan officer asked his neighbor.  Still wearing the leopard skin of his native land, this man stood among those furthest from the king.

"Ayá, yes, I heard of him once.  He is the local god, from here, " answered his neighbor, dressed in Mízriyan linen.  "He is the divine mummy."

"Can his dreams be trusted?" asked the first, unable to make anything of that reply.

But this question his companion could not answer.  He only shrugged.

A whisper of foreign discontent reached royal ears.  Hearing murmurs, Amun-musís spoke aloud.  "The immortal wife of the mummy god stood at my father's side, too, in his dream," the governor continued loudly.  "She also promised to fertilize Mízriya's black soil with foreign blood!"

The skin-clad officer again questioned his brother.  "And who is this being?"

The second replied, "She is the divine lioness, Saqmít."

Lions!  Now they were ferocious beasts more to the liking of the mercenaries, Sharudín, Kep’túriyan, and Káushan alike.  Raising their spears and shouting, "Saqmít!" ten thousand archers, spearmen, and bowmen marched north from Manufrí, led by the northern governor, Amun-musís, and a hundred chariots.

aaa

All through that day, and while the moon lit the fields the following night, Mízriya's army pressed toward the north.  The native spearmen marched alongside the more heavily armed mercenaries, at the front of the troops.  The native archers, and the foreign men with their longbows fell in behind, the chariots ranging in the center of the moving mass.  As dawn first lightened the sky, scouts hurried to Amun-musís to report that the enemy camp was still in place on the outskirts of sacred Un.

The governor smiled with grim pleasure.  "It is the third day of the third month of the third season," he pointed out to Bikurnár and the other officers, "a most auspicious day for a battle.  The gods are with us."  At the confident nods of the troop leaders, Amunmusís laid out his plan for the coming fight.  "Move the native archers forward, just behind the front rows of the foot-soldiers, and have them and the longbows begin shooting at my signal.  I will release a goose.  When we have weakened them, I will have a falcon sent up.  At that sign, the Sharudín and their allies are to rush the camp.  When they push through the enemy line, the chariots and native spearmen will come forward.  But remember, no man stops to take plunder until the battle is over, or he is food for vultures."

"When do we begin?" Bikurnár asked.

"Immediately," the governor answered.  "The sun god, Ra, is with us.  Let us fight while he is in the full strength of his youth.  If it is his divine will, victory shall be ours before noon!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MIRNIPTAHA

Among their cow-hide tents, Libúwans and their allies from across the sea were surprised to see a lone goose fly upward with loud honks, as they were beginning their morning meal.  Mirurí leaped to his feet as, a moment later, a great mass of men rose from their hiding places in the reeds of the marshy land.  Arrows began to rain down upon the half-clothed, unarmored men.  Mízriyan officers aimed their weapons at the nearest of their enemies, Káushans winging their darts over the heads of their companions, into the camp of the invaders.

Shouts of alarm rose from the marauders encamped in the Black Land, mingled with screams of pain.  Mirurí quickly ordered the wagons of his kinsmen loaded with all their possessions and ringed with Libúwan warriors.  Some managed to make their stand, as commanded, grasping their native spears tipped with points of antelope horn, and long, tapering swords.  But there they collapsed, one by one.  The attacking bowmen, safely out of thrusting range of the defending weapons, quickly decimated those desert nomads who survived their first assault, hurling volley after volley of well-aimed arrows to pierce the Libúwans' small, round shields.

The Libúwan women, who had accompanied their husbands out of the parched desert, crouched, wailing, upon their four-wheeled carts, shielding their children with their bodies, watching helplessly as their menfolk died.  Other desert men tried to chase down their frightened, fleeing cattle.  If they could harness the oxen to the carts, they told themselves, some of their number might escape the carnage while their brothers formed a human wall of prostrate, dying bodies.

Idómeneyu's Ak'áyans scattered among the tents at the first sign of trouble, abandoning those immobilized carts with their helpless, human cargo.  Quickly taking up whatever weapons they could find, they rushed forward in groups to strike at the ranks of spearmen.  Though a few Ak'áyan foot-soldiers were rapidly cut down by flying arrows, most of the Kep'túriyans managed to collect their own bows and arrows from their tents.  Despite the sudden ferocity of the assault, they visited a share of destruction back upon the Mízriyans' Sharudín line.  The Great House's native archers were deprived of cover as the mercenary spearmen fell in front of them, dropping their shields as they died, pierced by the arrows of men from across the Great Green Sea.  Mízriya's high-ranked officers shrank back and the Ak'áyans rushed forward to take advantage of the let-up in the deadly of arrows from their foes.

Where Idómeneyu's warriors reached the Mízriyan lines, Mirniptáha's native foot-soldiers gave up more ground.  The Ak'áyan pirates were well practiced and easily thrust their spears past the large, cumbersome Mízriyan shields.  When their lances became entangled in protective ox-hide, the Ak'áyans did not attempt to free the weapons, but drew their double-edged swords, easily overcoming men wielding only daggers.  Better able to maneuver in hand-to-hand fighting with their small, round shields, Idómeneyu's followers pressed into the Mízriyan line.  Above the clash of bronze and cries of the wounded, a falcon took wing.  The Ak'áyan advance was soon halted as Sharudín tribesmen and Mízriyan chariots next came into play.

Idómeneyu's men fell back upon their camp once more, impaled by the spears of Mízriya's eastern mercenaries and their allies from the among the far end of the very island which the exiled king had himself once ruled.  The Ak'áyans found themselves trampled under the hooves of the southern horses.  Odushéyu and Tushrátta led the rest of the men who had come in their ships, It'ákans, Lúkiyans, and the warriors Ainyáh had sent with them from Tróya and Kanaqán.  These men had been situated on the northern edge of the riverside encampment and were struck last.  Most of them wore no helmets on their heads to indicate their ethnicity or rank, some because they had not had time to don them, others because they had come away from their homes without them.  But Odushéyu's islanders had taken time at dawn for their traditional practice of stiffening their hair with mud.  Dressed only in their kilts, their round shields their only protection, they rushed the Mízriyan chariot line, their hair rising straight up from their heads.  The ululating war-cry sounded from their ranks, "Alalá!"

Unaccustomed to such a sight and sound, the Mízriyan horses panicked.  Neighing shrilly, they reared, upsetting their lightly-built carts, tossing well-dressed drivers and archers to the ground.  Several fell to their deaths or were soon kicked or trampled to death by the animals’ hooves.  But, beyond the immediate battle line, the Mízriyan forces stood firm, by sheer force of number.  Where their front ranks were thinned, others came forward to fill the gap.  Whenever an Ak'áyan or Assúwan bent to strip a fallen enemy, a Mízriyan or an ally took advantage of the unguarded moment and killed the slayer, in turn.  The Black Land's warriors, on the other hand, refused to turn their backs on their foes, even for a moment.  Nor did they retreat, even where their losses were heavy.  Despite the first successes of the Ak'áyans and their allies, the Mízriyan army steadfastly refused to be routed.  As the battle continued, Káushan longbow men prowled the perimeter of the field, taking a heavy toll on the men of the Inner Sea and the beleaguered Libúwans trying to escape.  With seemingly inexhaustible supplies of arrows, the dark-skinned warriors from the distant south drove their fleeing enemies back upon their campsite time and again.

The two armies battled doggedly, hand to hand, while the sun rose to its peak in the sky.  Men of the southern empire mixed with the invaders, spear to spear, shield to shield.  In the press, Ak'áyan victors were soon unable to strip their victims.  At that point, the advantage of southern discipline was lost.  Hardly a body, standing or prone, did not run with hot blood.  The field was littered with mangled corpses and the living slipped in mud of mixed dirt and gore.

On one side, a few Libúwans made a break for the west with their ox-carts.  The Káushans parted company with the rest of the Mízriyan army, to follow the retreating nomads.  What began as an orderly movement of a few desert nomads quickly turned into a rout.  Those desert warriors who had been nearest to the wagons no longer faced their enemies but turned their defenseless backs to run toward the riverbank, as if all hope were lost.  A breach opened in the northern line, as despairing Ak'áyans and Assúwans fled behind their allies.  Into the gap, the remaining Mízriyan chariots poured, splitting the invaders' camp in two, and Sharudín spearmen quickly surrounded the smaller half.  The remaining men of the Inner Sea could not retreat but fought on in desperation, stumbling awkwardly over the bodies of their dead and dying brethren.

Odushéyu pressed on past the front line, shattering chariots and forcing Mízriyans to yield before him.  But the larger number of Mirniptáha's troops closed in around the successful charge and gradually overcame Odushéyu's men.  Every Mízriyan head that fell was replaced by another from behind.  In ever closer quarters there was eventually no room to thrust a spear.  Still the fight continued, with swords and daggers.  Mízriyan and Ak'áyan hacked arms from shoulders, slashed undefended necks, chopped deep gashes in thighs.  With sharp blades they opened bellies, spilling intestines onto the swampy ground, mixing blood, entrails, and mud with their feet.  The troop leaders' voices grew coarse from shouting.  In the tumult, the orders of the commanders could no be heard clearly by midday.

Weariness sapped the soldiers' strength, and the growing heat parched their mouths.  Despite the proximity of the river, there was no relief for defender or invader, pursuer or pursued.  Odushéyu led a last, desperate charge into the ever-advancing Sharudín ranks.  But his depleted troops were unable to follow him, and the It'ákan was quickly surrounded by enemies.

Finding himself facing the mercenary commander, Bikurnár, the exhausted Ak'áyan dropped his weapon.  Odushéyu threw himself at the feet of the horned Sharudín, clasping the officer's white kilt with his blood-spattered hands.  "Do not kill me," the It'ákan gasped.  "My father will pay you any ransom you name," he promised, although he believed his parents to be long dead.

Though Odushéyu did not know it, Idómeneyu was doing the same, kneeling with the last of his men before Mízriya's blood-spattered chariots.  There was no more resistance, either, from the surviving Libúwan warriors still in the camp.  The last of Mirurí's kinsmen dropped their weapons and raised their empty hands over the wall of bodies about their carts.

As the Káushan longbow men chased the last surviving enemies into the reed swamps, the soldiers of the Great House plundered what was left of the encampment.  They dragged the Libúwan women, screaming and kicking, from under the wagons.  In clinging dresses that fell from beneath their breasts to their ankles, the newly widowed captives scratched their faces and reached for the still bodies of their husbands.  Naked children soon followed them, fighting and crying like their mothers.  The soldiers collected reeds from the river's edge to tie the prisoners' hands and bind each to the next by the neck.  Then the wailing line was forced to kneel beside the Aigúpto, tormented by thirst, within view of the water.  The captive warriors of the desert and their sea-going allies received much the same treatment.  Their wrists were pinioned behind them.  Bound to each other at the neck, the prisoners were driven with blows from fists and bows to the perimeter of the camp.

"Officers, assemble your companies," commanded Amun-musís in a hoarse shout, his head rising above all the others in his blood-spattered chariot.  "Mízriyans, guard the captives and load the booty on their backs.  Officers, count every item as it is received and write down the number of each thing.  I want to know how many were slain on each side, how many enemy soldiers have been taken captive, how much livestock we recovered from the camp, and how much plunder and what kind.  Write it all down.  See that every detail is correct.  By nightfall, we must be on our way back to Manufrí.

"Káushan officers, it is your duty to deal with the dead.  Collect them in heaps and divide them in two, before burning one pile of corpses for our side, another for our enemies.  Send one among your number to Un, for priests to deliver the incantations for the souls of our own people.  Bring as many pack donkeys from the city as you can find, as there is more than what the prisoners can carry.  Before you burn the dead, count the corpses and cut a token from the body of every slain enemy, so that I can verify the number.

"Sharudín officers, you must collect the rest of the plunder.  Round up the livestock, whether they have cattle, goats, horses, I do not care – I want all of it.  When you come upon dead animals, leave them for the men of Un to use or burn, as they please.  But bring all the animals that are living to Manufrí, with the count of their number.  Collect all the weapons from the living and from the slain, but leave the shields on the field.  I want armor only if it is bronze.  When all is done, burn the tents and the discarded items along with the dead foreigners."

Amun-musís took one last look at the quieting battlefield.  Then he turned his cart in a wide circle, sending his horses to the banks of the great river, where he could see some of his men still giving chase to a few Libúwans on the opposite side.  From time to time, one or another of his officers came to him, there beside the Aigúpto, with reports or questions.

"Should we sort the prisoners by sex or by nation?" a native officer asked, scratching at a shallow cut on his chin.

"Both," Amun-musís answered.  "And discover the name of every enemy land and the identity of the man who is the leader of each contingent.  Beat each soldier, as he answers, to see whether he will change his story.  Cut off the head of any man who tells lies, as a warning to the rest.  Then, separate the chiefs from their men."

"We have begun collecting the foreskins of the dead Libúwans," a man of Kaush came to report.   "But...ah, it seems that the northerners have none to take," he added with some surprise.  "What token should we cut from the islanders' bodies?"

Bikurnár, arriving at that moment with his own query, had a suggestion.  "Why not take the whole phallus?  I have heard of that being done in Ashúr."

But Amun-musís shook his head.  "No, my father would suspect that we took both the phallus and foreskin from the same man and so counted each corpse twice.  Cut off the hand."

"But will the Great House not suspect us of taking the hand and foreskin from the same man and still counting each one twice, that way, too?" the Káushan ventured.

The governor considered the problem a moment.  With an imperious wave, he commanded, "Take the hand from every man, the right hand only from each Libúwan."  With a bitter smile, he added, "Take both hands from each northerner.  If I am to be accused on double counting, either way, I might as well count them twice to begin with!"

All was done as Amun-musís ordered.  Under the watchful, suspicious eyes of their officers, the native soldiers assembled the prisoners into one large group, from all over the former battlefield.  The men were stripped of every garment but their kilts, and interrogated, with many blows from Mízriyan spear butts.  Divided into several groups, according to nation, each man was thrashed a second time until he revealed his status.  Tushrátta admitted to being commander of the Lúkiyans, Idómeneyu of the Ak'áyans.  The Kep'túriyan's oldest qasiléyu boldly claimed leader status as well, calling himself wánaks of the Zeyugelátes.  When others would not support his claim, the subordinate was quickly dispatched with a sword blow to the neck that nearly removed his head.