Quest for Honour (6 page)

He gave Eridu a brief bow and swept from the tent. Outside, Razrek found his second in command, Mattaki, frowning at Eridu’s guards while he waited for his commander.

“Anything new?” Mattaki handed Razrek the halter.

“No, but at least I’ve warned him. He’ll start moving north in the morning, which should be safe enough. He’ll still be at least a good day’s march from the Akkadians, maybe more, unless he learns how to drive his men faster. Eridu should have brought his son with him. The men would fight harder for the son than the father.”

“Isn’t Shulgi too young for this? That’s what Eridu said.”

“Shulgi has almost seventeen seasons,” Razrek said. “He helped recruit and train most of these men. And he knows how to swing a sword, which is more than Eridu can say.”

“So why didn’t he bring him?”

“And risk sharing the glory? If Eridu beats Eskkar, he can claim to be a great warrior king. With Sumer and control of the river under Eridu’s thumb, and the border area opened up, all the other cities will fall to their knees and accept his leadership. That’s why Eridu wants this victory so bad he can taste it.”

“While we do all the work and take all the risks,” Mattaki said, spitting on the ground.

“That’s what you’re getting paid for. Besides, we outnumber Eskkar’s forces almost four to one. Even if we lose half our force crushing him, we’ll still come out with plenty of gold.”

“And we can always recruit more men,” Mattaki said. He received a share of the gold Eridu paid for each new farm boy eager to become a soldier.

In a moment both men were back on their horses, and Razrek led the way as they galloped through the camp, heedless of Eridu’s soldiers, who were forced to leap out of their path.

Nevertheless, Razrek couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He’d spoken to anyone and everyone who’d ever been to Akkad or knew anything about Eskkar. This inactivity didn’t fit the barbarian’s history. Attack or retreat. It was the only tactic the northern warriors
knew, and the only ones Eskkar had ever used. If the barbarian didn’t start moving tomorrow, Razrek would launch an attack on Eskkar’s cavalry, force his hand somehow. Razrek knew how important it was to keep Eskkar off-guard and his men on edge, even if Eridu didn’t.

The king had conveniently forgotten that it was Razrek who had planned this whole campaign months ago. And so far everything had gone as he envisioned. The border raids helped train Razrek’s horsemen, even as they looted the countryside and Razrek grew rich in the process. Word of the attacks brought Eskkar rushing south, and the staged retreats drew him ever closer to the ambush site. Another day’s march south, and the Akkadians would be destroyed. King Eridu would rule all of Sumeria and its surrounding lands, and Razrek would earn all the gold he’d been promised.

Nevertheless, Razrek fretted. With so much at stake, he didn’t dare wait any longer. If the barbarian didn’t start moving, Razrek would attack Eskkar’s forces, and either drive him south for the quick finish, or follow his retreat north for the slow death. Either way, the Akkadian force would be destroyed, and with a little luck, their king would be among the first to die.

A
fter taking a full day and night of rest, the Akkadians collected their horses and weapons, and prepared to move out. Scouts galloped off in all directions, but stayed close to the main force of archers. Eskkar didn’t want to offer any tempting targets to the enemy horsemen. As long as the riders stayed within easy reach of the bowmen, they should be safe enough.

Before the Akkadians could begin the march, pushing and shoving broke out among the ranks. Instead of restoring order, Hathor and Alexar began arguing, their voices rising until they stood face to face, shouting at each other. Hathor struck Alexar in the chest with his fist, and the two men grappled. Soldiers shouted encouragement to their respective commanders, and a ring of cheering and shouting onlookers formed around them. Both commanders drew their swords. The clash of bronze against bronze once again echoed out over the grassland, as the two fighters weaved and shifted. Eskkar let the performance go on for a dozen strokes before he halted the brawl, stepping between the two and shoving them apart.

Raising his voice, he rained down abuse on both combatants, to the cheers and shouts of the men. The noise from the brief swordplay would have alerted any spies watching their camp, and Eskkar’s bellows would have carried almost as far. The Sumerian scouts would report a second day of continued dissension in the Akkadian ranks. Satisfied, Eskkar ordered his commanders to break camp, and get the soldiers moving.

Hathor and Klexor split the thirty horsemen between them and
moved out ahead, screening the archers. They headed north, back the way they came. Alexar and the bowmen followed, the leaders of ten moving up and down the column of soldiers as they marched, reminding them to look weary, as if they’d already been beaten in a fight. Eskkar ordered a steady pace, but he rested the men much more often than he had in the last eight days. At mid-morning they turned off their own tracks, and headed westward, taking a different path than the one they’d followed when chasing after the bandits.

With Grond at his side, Eskkar now led the way at the head of the archers. The countryside here wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. His horsemen had scouted the countryside yesterday, and some of the archers and riders had lived in these lands before moving to Akkad. As the first of his scouts reported back, Eskkar listened to each report, and he picked the next part of the march with care. The survival of his soldiers might depend on the path he chose through the hills and valleys that led to the west.

Not long after the Akkadians turned westward, enemy horsemen appeared brazenly on the hills behind them, as if tempting the retreating force to turn and give chase. Eskkar ignored them, determined to avoid wasting his men’s strength pursuing riders who simply rode away. His main worry this morning remained the possibility of an ambush. Sooner or later, the Sumerians would get in his path, and attempt to halt his force. Hopefully his change of direction westward would keep them off balance for the rest of today.

At midday, Eskkar gave the order to halt beside a small stream, and the men sank to the ground while they ate stale bread. Some removed their sandals and soaked their feet in the water, while a few splashed their faces and hands. Eskkar ordered that every water skin be filled. The countryside around them had been stripped bare of food and flocks by the enemy horsemen. Only a few loaves of stale bread remained to fill the Akkadian soldiers’ stomachs. By tomorrow, even that would be gone and real hunger would set in. Nevertheless, Eskkar no longer worried about food. That would soon be the least of his men’s needs.

After a longer than usual break, the Akkadians abandoned the pleasant little stream and resumed their journey. The men trudged through the low hills and sparse grassland. The ground grew a little greener with each step nearer to the Tigris, still a few days’ march away.

When dusk approached, Eskkar gave the order to halt. The campsite didn’t appear very favorable. No stream meandered nearby, just a half-mile-wide
expanse of thick grass surrounded by low hills. Nevertheless, the seemingly haphazard choice had been selected with care. It had to serve Eskkar’s purposes as well as his enemies’.

The men still had chores to do before they could rest. Eskkar made sure they collected plenty of wood and chips, and soon crackling fires sent smoke trails skyward, warming the men though they had little to put in their cooking pots. The scouts had seen no game during the day’s march. Eskkar’s marching orders kept the scouts close to the bowmen, and meant they had no opportunity to hunt.

As on the previous night, extra guards were posted, and a strong perimeter established. The last thing Eskkar wanted now was for his enemies to attack in force during the night. Grond brought over a small loaf of bread that he’d soaked in the last stream they crossed. Eskkar took half, and had to force the tasteless mush down.

For once, Eskkar didn’t bother making the rounds of the camp. His commanders knew what needed to be done. Instead he gathered his blanket and tried to get some rest, stretching out on the ground and turning his back to the setting sun. Though he lay there unmoving, his mind raced with thoughts about the coming action. As dusk gathered, Eskkar managed to doze off, though he slept fitfully, as he always did the night before a fight. When Grond woke him, night had fallen, and the stars shone bright overhead. The fires already burned low, barely kept alive by soldiers tossing a few sticks on them now and again.

Eskkar took the hand Grond extended to him. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Captain. The men have already started slipping away. They’re waiting for us.”

Grond seldom wasted words, which might explain why the two had become good friends. As Eskkar slung his sword over his shoulder, Hathor slipped up beside him.

“My men are ready, Captain.”

Eskkar looked around the campsite. Men still moved about, and blankets still circled the dying fires. Grond and Hathor had let him rest as long as possible. “You’re sure you have everything you need?”

“Yes,” Hathor said. “Good luck to you and your men.”

“And good hunting to you.”

With a final clasp of his hand on Hathor’s shoulder, Eskkar disappeared into the darkness, following Grond. Hathor, Klexor, and all thirty horsemen would remain in the camp, tending the dying fires, acting
as pickets, and trying to make themselves look as if they constituted all of the Akkadian forces. And praying to the gods that the Sumerians didn’t decide to attack tonight.

A hundred paces from the nearest fire, Eskkar found the rest of his men waiting silently for his arrival. The seven horse boys were there as well, scattered throughout the archers to make sure they kept silent. He’d considered leaving them behind, but knew what their fate would be in the morning. Though sitting on the ground, the archers had formed a double column, each man a long stride apart from his nearest companion, and ready for the long night march. The chill in the air made more than a few shiver.

Every bowman carried two quivers full of arrows, thirty shafts in each. Every fifth man carried a water skin, but that burden would be shared as they marched. In a few hours most of it would be gone. Other than their swords and knives, the archers carried nothing else, no food, no cooking pots, nothing. They’d already eaten the last of the food. Morning might herald a long day of hunger and thirst, with the grim possibility of a fight to the death.

Eskkar moved to the head of the column. Lifting his eyes, he studied the sky and located the North Star. He would keep that at his back. Before long, the moon would rise, but by then Eskkar and his force of archers intended to be well away from their campsite, which would remain in place to reassure those watching the Akkadians’ movements. With luck, he and his men would soon be far from the camp and any spying eyes.

It wouldn’t be a full moon tonight, but should shed enough light to help mark the trail. At least, Eskkar hoped it would.

“Tell the men to move out, Grond. Pass the word to each man.”

With that order, Eskkar had committed himself and his men to the risky plan. He waited until he felt certain the order had time to reach the rear of the column, and then started walking south, back along the trail they’d followed during the day.

Grond passed the order, then disappeared ahead into the darkness. He had the most dangerous assignment tonight. With two men, both experienced hunters, Grond would scout the way south and make sure Eskkar and the rest of the men didn’t blunder into any enemy sentries.

Now Eskkar had plenty to occupy his thoughts. His men would worry about the spirits and demons that prowled the land, searching for living bodies to carry back to their caves beneath the earth. No one liked to travel at night.

Eskkar, however, ignored any fears about the hunters of the underworld. Since childhood, he had heard many stories of people taken during the darkness, but he had never seen a demon himself. If they hadn’t bothered any of his enterprises until now, he doubted the evil spirits would choose tonight to try and carry off a few of his men. Instead, Eskkar worried more about someone tripping and breaking a leg, or stumbling over a bush and spraining an ankle. Any sound or movement could alert the enemy sentries, who might still be posted somewhere nearby, watching the Akkadian camp.

In the past Eskkar would have led the men himself, but he knew his eyes had lost some of their keenness in the dark. Better to let another with sharper sight lead the way than for Eskkar to stumble and fall, embarrassing himself in front of his men. Eskkar didn’t intend to allow his pride get in the way of his plan. Waradi, one of the youngest archers and raised in the hill country west of Akkad, had been assigned the lead.

Waradi moved out ahead, Eskkar right behind. The soldiers gathered strength from his presence, and from the knowledge that he took the same or greater risks as any of them. Eskkar ordered every warrior to follow three paces behind the man in front of him. That should be close enough to maintain contact with the man ahead, yet far enough apart so that if someone tripped, he wouldn’t take the man ahead or behind down with him.