Quest For Honour Part 47

"Remember, we must make sure none escape." Hathor looked at each of his subcommanders in turn. "If any do get away, it must be to the west, into the desert. This village is only two days' ride from Lagash, and word of our presence must not reach them until we are well to the south."

Klexor, commanding a third of the cavalry, led his men out first. They would swing to the south, and make sure no one fled eastward, toward Lagash. Muta took another third, and led them to the west, deeper into the desert. When both his subcommanders were in position, Hathor would start the attack from the north, and the Akkadians would strike from three directions. With any luck, they would trap all the Tanukhs between them.

As soon as his commanders departed, Hathor returned to the crest of the hill to study the camp. Nothing had changed, and if the Tanukhs had patrols guarding the village, they had all returned for the night. From so far away, he couldn't detect any sentries, but the village would surely have a few in place.

When he saw that Klexor and Muta had nearly reached their positions, Hathor descended the hilltop and gave the order to advance. In moments, he and his men rode up and over the top of the low hill that had concealed them. They moved at a steady trot, the usual pace for desert hors.e.m.e.n trying to conserve their mounts, and one that kept their dust trail low to the earth.

They rode in no particular order, just a straggling column of riders. That took some doing, as both the men and horses tended to want to form the usual column that they had trained for over the last year or two. So the leaders of ten and twenty kept up a constant stream of orders, mixed with a good amount of curses at men who either couldn't or forgot to control their mounts.

Hathor hoped anyone noticing them would think for a few precious moments that they were a band of returning Tanukh hors.e.m.e.n. The twenty two Ur Nammu warriors under Fashod rode in the rear, where their different clothing and weapons might alert the villagers. The Ur Nammu all rode powerful mounts, the best in Hathor's force, and could run down almost any horse and rider.

The Akkadians covered nearly half the distance before they were detected, and managed another few hundred paces before those in the camp heard and understood the alarm. Hathor didn't bother giving an order. As soon as he saw men scrambling about, he touched his horse's flanks with his heels, and the big stallion jumped into a gallop. In moments, nearly three hundred men thundered in a wild charge at the Tanukh camp, a large cloud of dust erupting up into the air behind them.

The Ur Nammu warriors, at last free of the restriction that kept them in the rear, pounded past Hathor, angling their horses to the right. Their frightening war cries rose above the pounding of the horses' hooves. They would ride around or through the edge of the village, to prevent any from escaping to the west and south.

By now Hathor could see the confusion and panic in the camp. Women fled in all directions. Some men struggled to string bows, others readied their weapons, while most rushed to get to their horses. But the Tanukhs had no time to prepare a defense. As soon as they saw the great number of the approaching hors.e.m.e.n, most abandoned any hope of resistance, and tried to flee. By then it was much too late.

The Akkadians greatly outnumbered the Tanukhs. Hathor's men launched their first flight of arrow as soon as they were in range, about two hundred paces. Two more flights followed, before the Akkadian cavalry tore past the first tent.

Any resistance had vanished. Men fled, abandoning their wives and children, desperate to reach their horses and escape. But Muta and Klexor's forces arrived right after Hathor's, slamming into the village from either side, and sealing the village's fate.

Pulling hard on the halter, Hathor slowed his horse near the center of the village, his eyes searching for any resistance. The trap had been well sprung, and all he saw was death and slaughter. His men most of whom had felt the wrath of the Tanukhs or knew of those who had now offered no mercy to the desert-dwellers. They had raided and pillaged Akkadian lands for too many years, and now they would be repaid for that blood debt.

Every one of the Tanukhs died in the a.s.sault. Men, women, children, the young, the old, all were killed. The Akkadians had thoughts only of vengeance for the savage attacks on Kanesh and the border outposts. Even before the fighting ended, the women were shoved to the ground and raped, most more than once. Then they, too, were slain.

Hathor watched it all without showing any emotion. They all had to die, so that none remained who could give warning of the Akkadian presence. Better a thousand Tanukh deaths than the loss of a single one of his own force. The same brutal tactics used by the Tanukhs would be turned on them, only with even more ruthless efficiency. Terror indeed was a two-edged sword.

When the screams ended and the blood stopped flowing, the task of rounding up the Tanukh horses started. Other men emptied the tents of grain, food, or anything of value, and the herd animals were butchered to provide fresh meat for the Akkadians. They rinsed and refilled their water skins from the well. Then the destruction began. His men torn down every tent and piled them together, along with everything else that would burn. As the flames took hold throughout the camp, Hathor gave orders to dump all the dead bodies both men and animals into the well, a horrifying symbol for any desert-dweller. He intended to make sure the water source would be poisoned for many months, so that the Tanukhs could not return and re-establish the village. Akkad wanted no more raids originating from this part of the desert.

Survivors if any remained hiding in the sand must be left to die from thirst and hunger. The Akkadians would have no need to return this way. They would live or die along another route out of the desert.

Hathor had delivered Eskkar and Trella's first message of terror to the Tanukhs: those who ride to war against Akkad and its people will be destroyed.

Hathor established his night camp five hundred paces from the still smoldering village. His men, grinning and laughing at their easy victory today, ate well, and the horses had plenty of grain. Margan's fires burned and smoked with the stench of death long into the night, as Hathor knew they would. He'd waged this kind of war before, and that knowledge ensured that the devastation would be complete. Soon word of Margan's destruction would spread, and fear and apprehension would travel across the desert.

In Akkad, Lady Trella's comprehension of the use of terror had surprised Hathor. She understood in some ways even better than her husband how such a ma.s.sive raid would keep the Tanukhs in check for many years. Always eager for knowledge, Trella had spoken to Hathor many times about his days with Korthac and his brutal ways.

Terror she explained once to answer his question was merely another way to defend Akkad and keep its enemies off-balance. Both our friends and enemies must know that it will not be used first, she declared, but if provoked, then terror would be employed to punish Akkad's attackers. Tanukh raids into Akkadian lands must stop, once and for all.

In Hathor's eyes, Lady Trella was more than just a keen mind. As he soon discovered, she also understood the many ways to use power.

The first six months had been difficult for Hathor. First his wounds had taken longer to heal than expected. When he grew strong enough to hobble about, he encountered many Akkadians who had suffered from Korthac's short rule, and now only Hathor remained alive to remind them of those unhappy days. But gradually the rancor had faded. As Eskkar trusted Hathor with more and more responsibilities, the populace started to change their minds about the dour Egyptian.

About that time, Trella had summoned him to meet her. When Hathor arrived, he found her speaking with another woman, Cnari, who not long before had lost her husband of eight years. Now in her early twenties, Cnari stood tall and slim as a willow, with fine features, long brown hair, and the slightly darker skin that, like Lady Trella, marked her as being born in the lands of Sumeria.

Trella introduced them, then found a reason to leave the chamber. Cnari appeared nervous, and Hathor realized this was no chance encounter, that Trella must have prepared Cnari for his arrival. For his part, he spoke haltingly, afraid to say much, and certain that his appearance and grim visage would frighten any Akkadian woman. Later he learned that Trella had softened that initial impression by relating to Cnari the story of how Trella first met Eskkar, and the fear and doubts she had experienced that night.

Trella didn't return to her chamber for some time, and Hathor and Cnari spoke awkwardly about meaningless things. When Trella rejoined them, Cnari took her leave. But before she departed, she favored Hathor with a brief smile that enhanced her fine features. He stared at the doorway, aware for the first time of the scent Cnari used, still lingering in the air.

"What do you think of Cnari?" Trella's words brought Hathor out of his reverie. "She is a good woman, but she needs a strong man to protect her. And it's not fit that one of Eskkar's commanders does not have a woman of his own. I can think of no better man in Akkad for her than you."

Hathor had not had a woman of his own for almost two years, since he left his family in Egypt to fight with Korthac. He hadn't thought of them in months, and felt no particular sense of loss at their absence. Here in Akkad, the women turned their eyes from him, remembering the horror Korthac had brought to the city.

"Cnari is . . . too beautiful, Lady Trella, for a man like me. All the men of Akkad will want her."

"And that has frightened her. She has no family of her own, no children, no one to guide her, so she came to me for protection and help in finding a new husband."

Trella had arranged dozens of marriages in the last few years. Her skill at matching men and women had proved as good as everything else she undertook, and men as well as women often sought her guidance.

"You honor me, Lady Trella. But I am not sure . . . she needs a man with more skills than a mere soldier."

"Perhaps you should ask Eskkar about that," Trella said with a smile. "For now, Cnari is living downstairs. If you wish, call on her, speak to her, listen to her. If you find she is not to your choosing, I will try to find you another. There are many women in Akkad who would now look with favor on you."

Hathor doubted the truth of that statement. Trella said nothing more about the matter, and when Hathor departed, he decided to avoid Cnari. But at Eskkar's table that evening, chance seated Cnari beside him. They began to talk, and soon were ignoring the rest of the guests. The next evening, after he completed his duties, Hathor took a long swim in the river. Then he called on her, and they sat in Trella's garden at the back of the house, talking long into the night.

Just as much as the day Trella spared his life, that evening changed his fortune once again. When Hathor returned to his quarters, all he could think about was Cnari, her hair, her eyes, the hand she placed on his arm for a fleeting moment while they spoke. A few days later, they went to Lady Trella and asked to be wed in the temple of Ishtar.

That had been over a year ago, and now she had become part of his life. She had clung to him the morning the army marched to war, tears streaming down her cheeks, and he could scarcely free himself from her grasp.

No woman had ever cried over him before, and to his surprise, Hathor had had to bite back his own tears. Cnari was heavy with her first child, would probably give birth while he was fighting in Sumeria. But for the gift of Cnari's love that Trella had given him, to both of them, Hathor would fight a dozen battles for her and Lord Eskkar.

Tonight he put aside his thoughts of Cnari and the child that was to come. No matter what happened, he would have a son to carry on his line, or at least a daughter to hold his memory. Now was the time to make war, to destroy Akkad's enemies, and to ensure that no danger ever threatened either Trella or Cnari and her child again.

In the morning, Hathor mounted and led the men south. They left the smoking remains of Margan behind them, fit only for the flies and scavengers already boldly foraging for food among its dead.

53.

Two days later, Hathor and his men swept down on the next Tanukh village in their path. They had ridden hard, pushing the horses as much as they dared, and hoping to outrun any news of their approach. Tibra, the next Tanukh encampment, was much larger than Margan. Situated beside a fair-sized oasis bordered with willow and palm trees, over two hundred tents ringed the glistening, green-encircled waterhole. Tibra also boasted several fields irrigated by channels dug out of the sand. Slaves had done the digging, Hathor knew, from hearing Muta's tales. Such labor was beneath a Tanukh's dignity.

The camp lay in the center of a wide basin, with no way to draw near without being seen.

"This is the village where I was enslaved." Muta's harsh words sounded different from his usual tone. "My brother died here."

"Then today you will take your revenge for your brother." Hathor gave the order to advance. The Akkadians formed a wide line of riders, and cantered toward the Tanukh village, his men readying their weapons. "Just don't get yourself killed taking your revenge," Hathor shouted over the drumming hooves to Muta. "We need you alive."

Muta's parents had been killed, and he and his brother taken as slaves, brutalized and beaten almost every day. For five years he and the other slaves had carried supplies from one Tanukh village to another, mere beasts of burden treated worse than the weakest pack animal by the ever-grasping Tanukh traders. His brother had died under the overseer's lash, after falling sick from hunger and exhaustion. The desert had as little pity on the slaves as did their Tanukh masters. One day Muta was sold to a Sumerian trader who needed extra slaves to carry his goods.

A year later, Muta was left for dead after he collapsed from exhaustion under his burden. Certain of his property's demise, Muta's latest master hadn't even bothered to cut Muta's throat or give him the hammer stroke to the temple. But Muta recovered, and somehow made his way to Orak, arriving a few months before the great siege. Eskkar and Gatus, desperate for men to defend the village, cared nothing about Muta's past life as a slave. They needed strong and willing men to fight the barbarians, and so, for the first time in his life, Muta learned the trade of war. Trained as an archer, he fought on the wall against all the Alur Meriki attacks.

Two years later, after King Eskkar defeated King Eridu in the first Sumerian war, Gatus had sent Muta to meet with Hathor. That foresight now benefited Hathor. Muta had not only lived in those lands, but had labored on caravans moving from village to village. He had walked most of the desert trails and knew the location of watering holes.

Hathor's hors.e.m.e.n shifted to a gallop and widened their front. The orderly formations used for traveling and training vanished, replaced by the need to get as many hors.e.m.e.n into the Tanukh camp as fast as possible. No need for silence or stealth. No force of this size could be anything but the enemy of the Tanukhs.

Nevertheless, Hathor had hoped to overwhelm Tibra before any could escape. But before his men had closed to within five hundred paces, he saw hors.e.m.e.n streaming out of the village, lashing their mounts and scattering in all directions. This camp might not have had any advance warning, but they had reacted swiftly the moment they caught sight of Hathor's cavalry bearing down on them.

More Tanukhs reached the corrals, wrenching open the gates and catching the first horse they could. The Tanukh menfolk felt no compunction about sacrificing their women and children, as long as they could save themselves and their horses.

In a way Hathor was glad to see them run. Two or three hundred Tanukh warriors wouldn't have presented much difficulty, but there still would have been many Akkadian casualties with no guarantee that word of Hathor's cavalry would not be spread far and wide.

His eight hundred men swept through the camp, ignoring the few arrows fired at them by the defenders. The inhabitants of Tibra were hunted down and slain as mercilessly as those of Margan. Those who could reach a horse galloped away, safe for the moment from Hathor's tired horses. Those who couldn't escape on horseback, mostly women and children, fled into the desert, running for their lives, each desperately hoping someone else would be hunted down and killed.

In moments, the Akkadians had swept through the camp. Hathor heard Klexor shouting to his men to collect the remaining horses. The more mounts the Akkadians could capture, the weaker their enemy would be.

At the same time, the burning started. One running man with a torch could set a great deal of fires, and soon flames from every tent sent a wall of heat up into the sky. This time Hathor gave his men little time to enjoy their victims. Food and grain were loaded onto captured horses, the oasis water fouled with the bodies of the dead, and anything that would burn was heaped in piles and set afire.

Only one life was spared. Hathor found the old man standing before his burning tent, a sword in his hand that he barely had the strength to raise. Hathor rode up just as one of his men was about to kill the Tanukh.

"Wait! Let this one live." Hathor glanced around him. This trembling old man might be the only Tanukh still alive within the camp. "Find Muta. Tell him to come here."

Hathor swung down from his horse and stared at the old one. The man made no move to attack, just stood there, his mouth flecked with saliva, his chest rising and falling with his fear.

Muta, his sword and right arm splattered with blood, walked over, a wide grin on his face. "Is this one the only one left?"

"Tell him who we are and why we came."

Muta took two steps toward the Tanukh. With a sudden movement, he struck the sword from the old man's trembling hand. Both sword and man went to the ground.

Muta put his sword to the man's throat. "When your cowardly men return, tell them the soldiers of Akkad have destroyed your village as a warning. Tell them that if they ever raid the lands claimed by Akkad again, we will return, and kill every one of you, no matter where you hide. Remember what I say, and tell your leaders. Do you understand?"

The old man nodded, unable to speak.

Muta spat in his face. "Don't forget!"

Hathor grunted with approval. "Now let's get our men on the move. We've still a long way to go today."

Before the sun had moved much more than a hand's breath across the sky, Hathor and his men departed Tibra. Behind them, fires burned and smoke slid high into the cloudless sky before disappearing. Hathor felt as much satisfaction as any of his men. Two Tanukh camps had been destroyed, but now the Akkadians' presence in these lands was known. He had to continue to move and to strike, and strike again as quickly as possible, before the Tanukhs had time to combine their scattered forces against him.

At least the Akkadians had plenty of food and water as they rode south. By mid-morning of the next day, Hathor's scouts spotted a band of Tanukh hors.e.m.e.n following them. They stayed far out of bowshot, but hung on Hathor's trail most of the day.

When the Akkadians camped for the night, a stronger than usual guard had to be posted. Hathor expected that the Tanukhs would try to steal back their horses, or perhaps attack the sleeping soldiers. Throughout the night, two hundred soldiers guarded the camp, every man taking his turn, until the morning sun lifted above the horizon and showed an empty landscape.

After eating and drinking their fill, the Akkadians started moving again. Hathor pressed for all possible speed. The quicker they could move through this land, the less likely the Tanukhs would be able to muster enough hors.e.m.e.n to dispute their pa.s.sage. Hathor's cavalry rode south, continuing straight into the desert. By now frantic Tanukh messengers, leading extra mounts, would be racing around his force, desperate to warn the villages and camps that lay before these new invaders.

That night, the Tanukhs crept up as close as they dared, and launched arrows from out of the darkness. The shafts were intended not only to kill Akkadians, but to stampede the horses. All night long the attacks continued, sometimes only an arrow or two, other times a dozen at a time. It took all the Akkadians' skill to restrain the horses and prevent them from bursting through the rope corrals. None of the Akkadians got much sleep. Nevertheless, Hathor's men took it as a point of honor to deny the Tanukhs any chance to get at the horses, and each man hung on to two or three mounts most of the night.

When the sun rose, Hathor had lost two men killed, and nine wounded. But none of the horses had broken free or been stolen, and they found the bodies of seven dead Tanukhs scattered around the camp, killed by Fashod's men who hunted the Tanukhs in the darkness and took extra pleasure in the killing.

"Get the men moving, Klexor," Hathor shouted.

The men were just as eager to leave this place. The Tanukhs, their number increasing, resumed their shadowing of the Akkadians, but only once did they venture close. Muta wheeled suddenly with a hundred riders and charged toward the Tanukhs. They turned and fled, but not before Muta and Fashod's warriors drew close enough to launch three flights of arrows, shooting them at a dead run, just as they had been trained by the Ur Nammu. Four Tanukhs died, and as many horses, while the rest fled for their lives. After that, the desert dwellers kept their distance.

Hathor pressed on. Only one more village remained between him and his destination. When they camped for the night, they were able to find suitable ground between two low hills. It gave them a place to hold the horses, and surround them with guards. Once again, Hathor let the Fashod and his Ur Nammu warriors patrol the darkness. Whether due to the defendable location or Fashod's men, no arrows reached the Akkadians that night. Hathor and his commanders sat in the shadows and made their plans for the coming day, grateful for the chance to get some rest.

In the pre-dawn of the eighth day since leaving Eskkar, Hathor moved through the camp making one last check of his men. Everyone had to know their mission and be prepared to move as fast as possible. He led the way out at first light, still heading south. He pushed the pace. Today they had to cover a great distance, and the horses would get little rest until tomorrow.

Another Tanukh village lay to the south-west, about a day's ride, and Hathor wanted to give the enemy shadowing his movements the impression that it remained his destination. A little after dawn Hathor spotted a dozen Tanukh hors.e.m.e.n riding at full speed and leading spare mounts, intending to warn the village of his approach. No doubt the main force of Tanukhs a.s.sembling to attack him had headed in the same direction.

At mid-morning Muta, who'd been leading the men, slipped back to Hathor's side. "We're here."

They had just ridden to the crest of a hill, and its height gave Hathor a good view of the desert before him. He gave the order to halt and let his eyes scan the empty landscape before him, taking his time and searching the land from horizon and back. No landmarks, not even a trail showed on the shifting sands and rocks. As he finished, Klexor rode up to join them.

"This is the place?"

Muta nodded. "From here, we turn east. The trail is unmarked, and it's a long dry march for men on foot, at least two days, but it leads to Uruk. On horseback, we should be able to make it in a single day. Once we reach the river, we'll need some luck crossing over. But the river shouldn't be too high at this time of year."

Hathor knew they had to ride almost fifty miles, then cross a branch of the Euphrates. If they could manage that, they would reach Uruk just before the sun went down. With luck, no word would have reached the city of the presence of a large force of Akkadian cavalry driving toward them. If Hathor hoped to take the city by surprise, his men would have to cover nearly eighty miles from dawn to dusk. There was only one way to find out if the horses could maintain that pace.

Such an opportunity, to appear out of the desert without warning, would give him a real chance to strike Uruk hard. Even if he couldn't gain entry to the city, Hathor could ravage the countryside, destroy crops and herds, and break Uruk's ability to support the war for some time.

He glanced up at the sun, which appeared to have jumped higher in the sky in the last few moments. Hathor raised his voice and let his bellow cover the entire column. "Mount up! We turn east here! Today we show the Sumerians the danger of attacking Akkad. We ride for Uruk!"

The men gave a cheer. They had had enough of the desert and its heat, and each step eastward would bring them closer to the fertile lands of Sumeria.

Hathor tugged on the halter and turned the animal's head toward the east. He and his commanders had trained these men for years, and now the long months of training would be put to the test. Like a long sword pointed at an unsuspecting foe, the column cantered toward the lands of Sumeria. The horses responded well, moving easily, as strong and well conditioned as their riders. Even the pack animals and spare mounts had no trouble keeping pace. With luck, the Akkadians would attack from a direction the unsuspecting enemy least expected.

The long ride began. With such a great distance to cover, they rested only briefly. To ease the strain on their mounts, Hathor periodically swung down from his horse's back and ran beside the animal. His men followed, of course. No horse fighter would ever admit that the old man commanding them could perform any feat of horsemanship or physical effort that they couldn't match. And they knew that today of all days, the Akkadian cavalry had to outrace the sun.

"Run, d.a.m.n you lazy b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" Hathor shouted, again and again. "You can rest tomorrow, in Uruk!"

Scouts moved out ahead and to the flank. The Tanukhs would not be expecting a turn eastward. After two attacks on their own camps, they had no reason to think the Akkadians would suddenly turn their attention toward Uruk, nor would they likely be too concerned about such a move even if they knew. If the Akkadians moved out of their lands, so much the better. Let the Sumerian city with its thick walls deal with this new enemy. At least, that remained Hathor's earnest hope.

They rode and ran beside their mounts, every man giving his utmost, running and riding, the miles pa.s.sing swiftly beneath them. Before long, each step became easier, as they gradually left the sandy wastelands behind and moved onto firmer ground. They crossed a riverbed, nearly dry now at the height of the summer, pausing only long enough for horse and rider to drink the brackish liquid and refill the water skins.

They resumed the punishing ride, racing the sun now at their backs. Mile after mile pa.s.sed, and Hathor's feet burned and stung with every step. He ran until he could no longer draw a breath, then pulled himself onto his horse's back. Every time he glanced up, the sun moved lower across the sky, moving ever faster toward the horizon.

Suddenly, one of the scouts riding point halted, waving his arms and shouting that the Euphrates lay ahead. A few moments later, Hathor crested a low rise and saw the wide ribbon of brown water in the distance. By now every rider's dry throat burned with thirst, and the horses' necks and chest were covered with dried froth. Every water skin had gone dry long ago. Hathor had pushed every man and beast to the limit, but now that the horses caught the scent of water ahead, they renewed their own strength, pressing on until the Akkadians cantered right into the river before halting.

Men slipped from their mounts and fell into the water, shouting in delight and relief. Horse and rider drank together. The cool water refreshed them all, and man and beast drank and drank until every belly was stretched to its limit. The water soothed Hathor's feet, washing some of the pain away. After a brief rest, the men walked their reluctant horses across the river. The horses would be more likely to stumble and injure themselves carrying a man's weight through the water. The Euphrates was wide here, but moved slowly. Only near the center did they need to cling to their mounts and swim for a few dozen paces. When they emerged, they rested again on the east bank. According to Muta, Uruk lay about ten miles due south.

Hathor took one last look at the horizons. Nothing moved, not even a farmer tending his fields. The scouts had seen no one, which meant their presence might yet be unknown.

"Klexor, you take command of the main force. Muta and I will ride ahead with the picked men."

Hathor, accompanied by Muta and thirty men, prepared themselves. Hathor inspected every mount, to make sure it was fit to ride. Then he and his troop gathered the weapons and tools they needed, and cantered off. The rest of the Akkadians fanned out, to follow their commander at a somewhat slower pace, and to block the route of anyone who might see them.

All the horses were weary now, after a long day, and Hathor could feel his mount starting to tire. Nevertheless, Uruk drew closer with each stride. The sun sank nearer to the horizon, but now that worked in the Akkadians' favor.

On the main trail to the city, they encountered few travelers this late in the day, and those they did meet were all on foot. Farmers and traders shrank away at their approach, and none would be able to outrun them to Uruk. The city's gates would be closing at sundown. Hathor wanted to reach the city just before then.

Finally, the city's walls rose up. At this distance, Hathor had to rely on one of his men's eyesight. He couldn't tell if the gate were open or closed. If word of their approach had reached Uruk, the gate would be closed and the wall bristling with armed men. If it remained open, it would mean that Uruk had not yet learned of the presence of the Akkadian force within their heartland.

He knew a little about the history of Uruk. Supposedly the oldest city in the land between the rivers, farming and trade had flourished here long before anyone began working the land around Akkad. For a while, or so its inhabitants claimed, Uruk had stood above the other villages, but in the last few generations, Sumer and the other cities, with their emphasis on trade, had surpa.s.sed it. Uruk's walls reflected its status. Raised in the last few years, they were just high enough to keep out the occasional desert raiders.