“Before they climbed the slope, Subutai ordered every sack and skin filled with water. And the horses had plenty to drink. But despite all that, with so many people, it’s almost all gone. Soon we’ll be too weak to fight.”
Exactly the same trap Eskkar had used on the Alur Meriki. Sargon had never realized how important a weapon water could be. His cunning father had understood its role, and constructed a battle plan based on little else.
“If I were Subutai,” Sargon said, “I would attack tomorrow at dawn. He has to be ready anyway, if Bekka comes tonight. And if he doesn’t, why wait another day without water? And the longer we’re up here, the better prepared the Carchemishi will be.”
“Do you think Bekka can get here that fast? He won’t be able to double up on his horses as we did.”
“By now, one of Unegen’s riders will have reached him. Once he realizes the situation here, Bekka will press the pace. He’ll want to arrive while we can still fight. If the enemy destroys us, they’ll have the hill itself as a refuge. They could even corral the horses up here. Nothing the Alur Meriki could do would touch them then.”
“You think like a clan leader, Sargon.” Garal’s usually cheerful voice held only respect. Like all the other Ur Nammu, he believed anyone who has killed a man in battle must be treated as a warrior. “Someday you will make a good war chief.”
The last thing Sargon had ever wanted. “If we live that long.”
Later that day, Sargon watched as Subutai returned to the patch of ground where his wives and children had gathered. Though Tashanella’s father strode through the camp with his head held high, Sargon guessed that Subutai was growing discouraged. The leader of the clan had probably gotten little sleep for the last seven days, and Sargon wondered how much longer the Ur Nammu Sarum could last.
Subutai collected a single strip of dried meat from his wives, and then crossed over to where Sargon and Tashanella sat side by side.
“Sargon, we are readying the warriors for an attack at first light. We will try to drive off the invaders.”
“Can you not wait a little longer for the Alur Meriki to arrive?”
Subutai shook his head. “Most of the warriors have had nothing to drink since yesterday. If we wait any longer. .” His voice trailed off. “And Fashod doesn’t think the Alur Meriki can get here before the day after tomorrow at the earliest. By then we’ll be dying of thirst. Better to go now, while we can still fight.”
A hopeless attempt, Sargon knew, but there was little else that Subutai could do.
“Fifty warriors will attack down the slope that you and Fashod used to scale the hill. They will try to convince the enemy that we are attempting to escape there. Then the rest of us will ride down and try to get through the ditch on the right hand side. If we send all our men against that one place, we may be able to break through. If our warriors can reach the enemy horses, we may be able to stampede and scatter them.”
“Where do you wish me to be?” Sargon really didn’t care.
“For your sake, and for your father’s, I wish you had not returned here. You could have ridden south, and reached the lands of Akkad.”
“I came back for your daughter, Subutai. I don’t intend to leave her.”
“So I see.” Subutai looked at Tashanella, and smiled. “That means she has chosen well. Probably better than I would have for her.”
He reached out and touched her cheek for a moment. Then he turned back to Sargon. “The old men, young boys, and some of the women will defend the camp when. . after we attack. I thought you might want to remain here with them. They will need a leader if our attack fails.”
Sargon understood. Every clan leader and subcommander would ride to the attack. He thought about Subutai’s offer, but he’d already made up his mind. He and Tashanella had already discussed tomorrow’s attack.
“No. I will ride beside Chinua, Garal, and their kin. I cannot stay behind when they ride to war.”
“In that case, you will ride behind me. I will lead the attack down the slope, and Chinua will lead the second wave.” He stood and ran his fingers through Tashanella’s hair. “You will see to your mother and the others?”
“Yes, Father. I will be at their side.”
Sargon understood what that meant. Tashanella would make sure her younger brothers and sisters did not fall into the enemy’s hands.
“Then I have done all that I can for them,” Subutai said. “Now I must see to my men.”
Sargon glanced up at the sun as Subutai strode off into the camp. The afternoon was passing, and before long, the sun would touch the horizon.
Sargon placed his arm around Tashanella’s shoulder and pulled her close. They might not have much more time together.
32
Thirty miles to the north, Bekka glanced up at the sun. Dusk would soon be upon them. He raised his hand to halt the warriors, and eased his sweat-stained horse to a stop. They would camp here for the night. The war party, numbering just over eight hundred men, had ridden hard since leaving the caravan.
Even the strongest warriors had grown weary, but many of their horses were nearing the end of their limits. The animals needed frequent rests, and at each stop Bekka heard more than the usual grumblings from his men. Still, the Alur Meriki had traversed the countryside quicker than the swiftest raiding party, far faster that any raid Bekka had ever ridden on before.
He had his reasons for keeping up the pace. The less time Bekka’s warriors had to think about the coming battle, the better. Many of his men remained angry over his decision to fight the Carchemishi. They argued that this battle would provide little gain and great risk. Others hated the Ur Nammu, and wondered why their Sarum wanted to save them.
Given the lack of enthusiasm, almost everyone had protested the rapid pace of the expedition. After all, they pointed out, even if the invaders killed every last Ur Nammu, the Carchemishi would be weakened from whatever losses they sustained. In fact, they claimed, the invaders would be more likely to be taken by surprise, still celebrating their victory over the Ur Nammu.
Some, and Bekka wished he knew the numbers of this group, disapproved of the decision simply because they did not trust their new Sarum. In their minds, Bekka had done nothing to prove his worth as a leader. At least Chief Urgo, despite the fact that he had negotiated the peace with Eskkar, had years of experience. Bekka, these malcontents grumbled, had yielded ground at the stream against Eskkar’s men, and had accomplished nothing since.
Now, with threats of war surrounding the Alur Meriki, those unhappy with Bekka’s leadership muttered that they preferred to put their trust in Trayack, an older and proven war chief. A rumor already had passed through the ranks, promising that Trayack would absolve all of them from their oath to Eskkar.
Bekka had gritted his teeth when he learned of that claim. It sounded all too believable, something Trayack would say. Bekka might have left the obstreperous clan leader behind, but Trayack’s dark presence had managed to accompany Bekka’s force and haunt his every decision.
Whatever their reasons to complain about the coming battle, those discontented did not understand that the world had changed. Eskkar’s son had returned to the Ur Nammu, after appealing for assistance from the Alur Meriki. If the brash boy died fighting against Akkad’s enemies, sooner or later, the blame would fall on the Alur Meriki for failing to help.
Once that happened, Eskkar would decide, probably sooner than later, to destroy the clan. He had nearly done it at the battle of the stream. If a loud talker like Trayack ruled the Alur Meriki, all it might take to bring Eskkar’s Akkadians down on their heads would be a single raid against some lonely farmstead and a few dead farmers. One dead cow might even be enough.
On the other hand, if Sargon and his allies survived, the King of Akkad would owe much to Bekka and the Clan. That debt would keep the Alur Meriki strong for many years.