“Just the one skin. My mother carried it for Subutai.”
Now he was stealing Subutai’s wine. Sargon laughed, the discordant sound attracting, for the first time, the attention of those nearby. Nevertheless, Sargon emptied the cup. She took it from his hand and set it aside. A damp rag appeared, and Tashanella scrubbed the blood from his face and arm. “There’s no water to clean your tunic, and nothing else to wear. You’ll have to keep it.”
Ignoring her ministrations, Sargon put his arms around her and pulled her close. For a moment he just held her tight against him, inhaling the scent of her hair. He didn’t know how long he held her, but slowly the fear and trembling passed from his body. Tashanella was real, and she was holding him. Somehow Sargon knew she understood. Thoughts of death and blood gradually eased from his mind.
“Tashanella, you’re the reason I came back. Otherwise, I might have just slipped away. I know. .”
“If you hadn’t come back, I would have come looking for you.” She raised her lips to his, and they shared a kiss that began with gentleness and ended with passion.
He pulled her down beside him, and buried his face in her throat. Sargon couldn’t control the occasional tremble that passed through his limbs. She stroked his hair, and murmured soothing words. Sargon had seen his mother touch his father the same way.
After awhile, his heart slowed, and his mind regained control of his body. Sargon remembered why he had returned, and what still needed to be done.
“You heard the Alur Meriki are coming?”
“Yes, I was at my father’s tent when Fashod brought the news. He said you convinced them to help us. That’s all I heard before I came looking for you.”
He told her the events at the Council Meeting, and of Chief Bekka’s need for a victory. “Though they may not come. Bekka may have changed his mind, or others could have forced him to abandon the idea of fighting the Carchemishi. Or he may just arrive too late to help us.”
“Then all that matters is that you have done your best. My father, all the Ur Nammu will owe you a great debt.”
“We still may not get out of this alive.”
“Then we will die together. I will have no other life without you, Sargon of Akkad. But I feel in my heart that you have yet much to accomplish. I do not think this will be our end.”
“Then we’ll face whatever comes. Together.”
A young boy called out Tashanella’s name, searching for her in the crowd.
She glanced around. “We’re over here.”
The boy trotted over, his teeth glistening in the faint light.
“Here it is.” The boy handed Tashanella Sargon’s sword and belt. “I sharpened it. Father said to bring him.”
Sargon recognized the boy as one of Tashanella’s younger brothers. He took the weapon from Tashanella and drew the blade half way from the scabbard. The bronze hilt and blade had been cleansed of blood, and the edge sharpened and polished. Sargon found the spot where the first guard had parried the blade. The deep nick remained, but some of it had been smoothed out.
“We will go to my father,” Tashanella said. “Then we’ll find a place for ourselves, to spend the night.”
Sargon stood and belted the sword around his waist. “Then let’s hurry. The sooner we finish with your father, the sooner we can be together.” Sargon held her for a moment, then took her hand, holding it tight. Alone in each other’s company, they followed the young boy back to where Subutai waited.
31
By midmorning, the demons of last night had faded, driven away as much by Tashanella’s love making as a good night’s rest. Her father hadn’t commented when Sargon and his daughter approached hand in hand. The time for such thoughts had passed.
Instead, Subutai called his clan leaders and whatever warriors stood nearby. In a loud voice, he praised Sargon both for his courage and his success with the Alur Meriki. And after last night’s fight on the slope, Subutai declared that Sargon had become a warrior and a clan brother to the Ur Nammu.
To Sargon’s surprise, he felt prouder of Subutai’s words than any praise his father or mother had ever bestowed on him. He might not have fought with bravery and skill, but he had fought, and he now realized how big a role luck played in staying alive. A sobering lesson, to be sure.
The warriors surrounding him all voiced their thanks, many of them coming close to touch his arm or shoulder, one brother warrior to another. By then Fashod and the others had told everyone the story of Sargon’s challenges, and every man there understood all the risks that the boy from Akkad had taken to help the Ur Nammu.
At last Sargon broke free. Tashanella was busy helping her mother, so he wandered away, until he found Garal testing a fresh bowstring. Somehow the man had managed to hang on to his bow during last night’s climb.
After Garal finished, they walked the entire length of the hilltop, studying the enemy below. In daylight, the flat portion of the hill seemed even more crowded than last night, with horses and people sharing much of the same ground. The Carchemishi had ringed about half the hill.
Only a few guarded those places too steep even for a man on foot, let alone a horse, to descend. The enemy had taken their position just out of bowshot range, about a hundred and fifty paces from the base of the hill.
Sargon stopped at the place where they had ascended last night. “No wonder the guards weren’t all that alert.” From above, the slope looked even more difficult to climb than it had seemed from below.
To their left, they could see the holding area for the Carchemishi horses. The rope corrals were almost empty now, as the enemy horsemen had mounted at first light, in case the defenders tried to ride down and attack.
Sargon and Garal continued their inspection, and soon enough they reached the incline where the Ur Nammu had ascended. About forty or fifty paces wide, it looked steep enough to slow down any attacker. At the base, and just out of arrow range, the besiegers had dug a ditch that formed a half circle. To Sargon’s eyes, it appeared both wide and deep enough to stop a horse.
“Chinua says they dug the ditch in half a day,” Garal commented.
Sargon had seen the efficient work of soldiers before. They knew how to work together to accomplish much in a short time.
“Have they paid any attention to the bluffs we came from?”
From up here, Sargon could see all the way to the foothills, including the low ridges where the Alur Meriki scouting party even now lay hidden, and from where Sargon and his companions had set out on last night’s venture.
“The Carchemishi sent out two patrols just after dawn,” Garal said. “Subutai had men watching from here, to see if they discovered any traces of the Alur Meriki horses. One group entered the bluffs, but didn’t reach the place where we had hidden. The other just patrolled along the edge of the bluffs. If they even found our tracks, they didn’t show it.”
“That seems careless. They should have wondered which direction we came from.” Sargon studied the plain beneath him. The enemy forces appeared alert enough. Soldiers armed with bows and spears flanked the main downward slope all the way to the ditch. More archers, backed up by several hundred horse fighters, waited for any attempt to escape or counterattack. “My father or Hathor would have sent out four or five patrols.”
“Perhaps. But they may think it’s more likely we came from the south, from Akkad’s outposts. Two more patrols headed out in that direction.”
“When Bekka arrives,” Sargon said, studying the landscape, “he’ll take one look at the horse herd and attack. If he can scatter those horses during the night, the Carchemishi will be in trouble.”
“If he comes. Subutai has his doubts. That’s what he told Chinua.”
“He’ll come if he can.” Sargon put more confidence in his words than he felt. “But who knows when? How long can we hold out up here without water?”