Quest for Honour (62 page)

He did the same reviews – at least three or four per day – on the cavalry, archers, and especially the slingers. Their relative youthfulness made it hard for them to restrain their excitement. From their looks and gestures, they might have been rushing back to Akkad to fill the local taverns for a night of feasting.

Five days after departing Akkad, at mid-morning, Eskkar saw three riders returning at a gallop. The leader of the scouts raced down the column of soldiers until he reached Gatus and Eskkar, who recognized the man, Tarok, another veteran who had fought in the battle to recapture Akkad from the Egyptian Korthac. Tarok pulled up and guided his horse alongside the Akkadian leaders.

“We saw the Sumerians.” Tarok couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “It’s a great force, spread out on the plain just north of Kanesh. Their cavalry drove us off.”

“How many?” Eskkar, surrounded by his commanders, waited to hear Tarok’s estimate.

“We saw at least two or three thousand horses,” Tarok said, his eyes wide with wonder at the number. “We didn’t have time to take a better count.”

Eskkar heard the murmur spread up and down the column at the news. “Well, then I’m glad you got away. No sense in fighting such a large force with just the three of you.”

Everyone laughed, and the tension was broken. “You’ve done well. Report to Hathor. Meanwhile, we’ll keep moving according to our plan.” Eskkar and his commanders had known of the size of the enemy’s cavalry. Tarok’s sighting merely confirmed it. “In a few hours we’ll reach the Tigris and obtain supplies from Yavtar’s boats.”

“They’ll be expecting us to do battle in the morning,” Gatus said. “They know we can’t just march down here and then turn back without a fight. Even more likely, the Sumerians will expect us to launch a surprise attack tonight.”

The easiest way for a smaller force to defeat a larger one was to attack at night, catching the enemy asleep and unprepared.

“We’ll give them a surprise all right,” Eskkar said, “but not the one they’re expecting. Push on to the river.”

The army continued its movement, turning slightly westward, to reach the Tigris before nightfall. About two miles north of Kanesh, they made camp along the river, and Gatus made certain that a strong force of pickets and skirmishers patrolled the land. By then Razrek’s scouts had drawn ever closer, ranging up and down the column, galloping every which way, and trying to entice their enemy into giving chase. The Akkadians kept a wary eye on their enemy, but otherwise ignored them. The soldiers might have grown nervous at the sight of the Sumerians, but they saw their commanders’ unconcern, and drew strength from that.

Before dusk fell, eight boats carrying supplies from Akkad slid ashore. Draelin, another of Yavtar’s leaders, splashed ashore even before the first boat ground its bottom against the riverbank. “Take me to Lord Eskkar,” he commanded.

Moments later, Draelin stood before Eskkar, Grond, Gatus, Hathor
and the other commanders, all of them crowding around the messenger. “Lord, I bring word from Bantor. A large force of barbarians has been sighted to the east, riding hard. Bantor thinks they may not be Tanukhs, but Alur Meriki. They might be coming to strike at Akkad.”

Eskkar swore at the news, a grimace on his face. “How soon before they reach the city?”

“Another three or four days,” Draelin answered. “No more than that.”

“Any word on how many?”

Draelin shook his head. “Hundreds . . . a thousand . . . no one knows.”

“Well, if it’s Alur Meriki, they don’t have a thousand warriors,” Gatus said. “If they mustered every fighter that can sit on a horse, they might have half that number.”

Eskkar nodded. For almost five years he’d waited, knowing that some day, when the Alur Meriki had recovered their strength, they would return to Akkad to settle their blood debt. But Trella’s spies had not neglected the eastern lands where the Alur Meriki had gone, and he had a rough idea of the forces they could muster. “If they send a raiding party, even a large one, it won’t be more than two or three hundred men.”

“That’s not enough to take Akkad,” Gatus said. “Why would they risk provoking us, making us come after them, unless . . .”

“Unless they knew all our fighters had gone south to fight Sumeria.” Eskkar shook his head. “This is another of Shulgi’s plots. Demons take the boy king! He must have allied himself with the Alur Meriki, or at least warned them of his plans. So they decided this is the time to strike, to take their revenge.”

“Three or four hundred barbarians on horses aren’t going to scale Akkad’s new walls,” Gatus said. “Our men there can hold them off.”

Eskkar had left four hundred and fifty fighters in Akkad to defend the city, barely enough to guard the walls properly. Many of those left behind were considered to be too old or too young for a vigorous campaign in the south. The city’s inhabitants would have to join in the defense as well, and Bantor’s men had been training them too. Many had taken part in the defense of the city during the Alur Meriki siege, and would supplement the soldiers. And with so many people crowding into the city seeking safety, there should be more than enough to withstand any attacks, at least for the next few weeks.

The Alur Meriki raiders would terrorize the countryside, but they
couldn’t do any real damage to Akkad itself. Gone were the days when its inhabitants trembled at the name of the dreaded barbarian horsemen.

“Unless they’re betrayed from within.” Eskkar turned to Draelin. “You’re going back on the river at once. Double up the crew and get back there as fast as you can. Tell Bantor to be wary of treachery, some plot to open the gates or scale the wall somehow.”

“I was hoping to stay with you, Lord Eskkar, and join the fight here.”

“I think you’ll find all the fighting you want back in Akkad. Take my message to Bantor and Trella. Go now.”

“Yes, Lord.” Draelin turned and ran off, back toward the river.

“Damn the Alur Meriki!” Eskkar said. “I’d hoped we were done with them for a few more years.”

“May they all rot in the demon’s pits,” Gatus said, not caring that Eskkar had once belonged to that clan. “You think Shulgi has men inside Akkad?”

“We have men inside their cities.” Some of Trella’s deep-laid plans over the last two years were still to be put to the test, but Shulgi and Kushanna were just as crafty. “If the Sumerians have been talking to the Alur Meriki, they must have talked about some way to get inside.”

“We can send some men back to the city,” Hathor said. “A few hundred horsemen ought to be enough to drive them off.”

“No, that’s what Shulgi wants, for us to try and defend the city. If we send men back, we won’t have enough to fight the Sumerians. We need every man we have.” Eskkar took a deep breath. “Akkad will have to hold out by itself.”

“Draelin should be back before the Alur Meriki arrive,” Gatus said. “It’s only going to take him a day or so to get upriver.”

“Trella will be watching for any treachery. As soon as she heard of the Alur Meriki’s approach, she’ll know what to do.”

“I could send some horsemen, in case Draelin doesn’t get through,” Hathor suggested.

“No, we’re already surrounded by Razrek’s fighters. You’d never get a man through on horseback. Only the river is safe now.”

“Then we continue on?”

“We continue. Make sure the men get as much rest and sleep as possible. I want us to be well on our way before daybreak. This may be their last good night’s sleep for quite a while. You know what to do. Make sure everything is ready.”

Eskkar strode away, to try and get some sleep if he could. He had forced himself to sound confident before his men, but worries about Trella and little Sargon’s safety would be with him for the next few days. No one wanted to return to Akkad more than he did, but he had to trust in Trella and her instincts. She would know what to do, and Bantor would heed her advice. Between the two of them, Akkad would be well defended. When Eskkar did finally fall asleep, he dreamt of the days when he stood on Orak’s walls, defending the village from the ravaging Alur Meriki.

The rest of the Akkadians settled in for the night. Nearly a quarter of the men remained awake and alert, and even those who slept kept their weapons at hand. Torches burned all night, lit by oil delivered as part of the boats’ cargo just for that purpose.

He slept uneasily, waking often. Once Eskkar roused himself enough to speak to some of the guards, all of whom urged him to return to sleep. When Grond finally woke him, Eskkar glanced up at the sky. The waning moon indicated dawn was still far off, but that made no difference. In moments he was wide awake, slinging his sword over his shoulder.

“Is everything ready?” Eskkar knew that Grond would have awakened even earlier, and would have checked on Gatus and Hathor’s preparations.

“Yes, Captain. Gatus will be ready to move out in a few moments.”

Eskkar strode among his men, stepping in and out of the light cast by the flickering torches. Faces turned toward his, and for the first time he saw a hint of fear and nervousness on their faces. The night held its own terrors, and made even brave men afraid.

He found Hathor, Klexor and Fashod together, making their final preparations. At the last moment, Fashod of the Ur Nammu had decided to join the expedition and take command of the forty warriors who had volunteered to fight Akkad’s enemies. Most of them were young and looking forward to their first battle. All three men faced him as he approached, and in the flickering torchlight he saw no signs of doubt or concern on anyone’s face.

“We’re ready to begin, Captain.”

“Your men are going to be surprised.”

“That they will,” Klexor said. “Half of them will piss themselves with fright when they finally learn of the plan.”

“And the other half will be too scared to piss,” Eskkar answered, the old adage never more true than now. “Good hunting to you all. I’ll see you on the twelfth day.”

“On the twelfth day. We’ll be there, Captain.”

For a moment Eskkar felt tempted to go over the plan once again, but he caught himself in time. Both Hathor and Klexor knew what to do. Their subcommanders would learn the news once the sun had risen and the horsemen were safely out on their way.”

“Then get your men moving. Make sure my way is clear until dawn.”

At the next campfire, he found Gatus and Alexar waiting for him to arrive, both of them ready to move out. “It’s time to go, Eskkar.”

“Well, then, Gatus, lead them out.” Eskkar glanced behind him, and saw the first column of Hathor’s riders on the move.

Everything had been discussed and planned and readied for this moment. Once the horsemen moved out, Eskkar, his commanders, everyone would be committed. If he had misjudged their enemy, or something unforeseen cropped up, they might all be dead by midday.

Grond approached, leading two horses, and Eskkar took Boy’s halter. He’d named his favorite warhorse after the fine stallion he’d ridden many years ago. Boy stood even taller than his namesake, and Eskkar had worked with him until the two of them merged into a single fighter.

“Well, Boy, today’s the day you earn all that grain you’ve been eating all these years.”

He swung up onto Boy’s back. The stallion bucked once, just to show his spirit, and then settled in.

The sun edged over the horizon, casting a rosy glow into the sky. The soldiers shoved the torches into the earth and gathered up their weapons. Gatus started the spearmen moving south. Screened by horsemen on either side, the men walked in a column four abreast, every man grunting under the heavy load of food and bulging water skins they carried, along with their weapons.

Shouts echoed from the darkness all around them. The Sumerian sentries heard the activity, had probably crept up close enough to see what was going on. That didn’t matter, as long as they didn’t try to contest the passage, which wasn’t likely. Shulgi and Razrek had probably expected a night attack. When that had failed to materialize, the Sumerians would assume an attack at dawn. They would expect the Akkadians to move toward them, would be waiting for them when dawn broke. Indeed, Eskkar felt certain King Shulgi and his Sumerian allies had prepared well for any assault on his position.

They were going to be surprised indeed when the sun rose.

B
y mid-morning a crowd of soldiers milled about near King Shulgi’s command post, blocking the path cleared and marked so that scouts and other messengers could bring messages to their leader. Swearing at the stupidity of villagers turned soldiers who couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of orders, Razrek rode his gray stallion to within fifty paces of his destination before he swung down from his horse.

He pushed his way through a group of laughing soldiers, knocking one man aside and sending another stumbling to the ground. The offended soldier rose with a curse that died on his lips when he saw Razrek’s scowling face, even before the man recognized the Sumerian army’s second in command. King Shulgi, seated on a stool before a narrow table scarcely larger than the map that covered its surface, glanced up at Razrek’s approach.

Shulgi’s handsome face looked grim, either from lack of sleep or the failure of Eskkar to attack. “Where is the barbarian?”