“Perhaps they intend to ride into the mountains,” Bar’rack said. “They might know trails through the foothills. Wherever they go, we’ll hunt them down.”
“There are no trails through the hills for so many men, no paths that go anywhere,” Urgo said, joining the discussion for the first time. “Besides, they know we would track them down and kill them within days.”
Every eye went to the oldest man in the circle. Urgo, another cousin of Thutmose-sin, carried nearly ten more seasons than his leader. Many considered him the wisest of all the warriors, and his advice helped govern the Clan.
Urgo also planned and mapped out the routes chosen by the Alur Meriki in their migrations, making sure they traveled efficiently and that the Clan always journeyed over routes with plenty of forage and water. His sharp wits could recall better than any of his fellow warriors every trail, path, stream, and river that the Clan had traversed in the last thirty years.
Last year, Urgo’s horse had slipped on some rocks, throwing its master. The fall broke one of Urgo’s legs. He also hurt his back. The injuries had almost killed him, and now pain accompanied Urgo’s every move, forcing him to stay close to his wagon. He could only ride a horse with difficulty, and for brief periods.
“What do you think, Chief Urgo?” Thutmose-sin used Urgo’s full title, to make sure the others listened to his words.
“The outcast Eskkar still rules in Akkad, and he is no fool. He would not waste horses or men so far to the north without some purpose. If he has decided to come forth from his walls and challenge us, the best place for such a challenge would be the stream. If he has enough men to hold it against us, even for a few days, many of our horses, herds, and women and children will die.”
All of them understood the need for water. The large number of horses and livestock, as well as the people of the Alur Meriki, depended on reaching the stream within the next few days.
“How can he challenge us with only a hundred or so fighters?” Bar’rack shook his head. “We’ve seen no sign of men or horses from the south. Our riders would have warned us if such a force approached.”
“He would not challenge us with so few,” Urgo agreed. “If he plans to do so, then he will bring many more men than a hundred.”
Thutmose-sin turned to Unegen, sitting in silence between Altanar and Urgo. “What direction did these riders come from?”
“They came from the west, riding along the base of the foothills. We were hunting, and did not expect to see an armed party approaching from that direction. The land there is almost empty of game, and there is not enough water and grass to sustain even a small herd of horses.”
“If Eskkar amassed a large force of horsemen far to the west,” Urgo said, “and he was cunning enough to know when and by what route our caravan travelled, he could move his soldiers toward us without being seen by our scouts.”
“Well, we’ll know soon enough,” Altanar said. “We should send more warriors to the stream.”
Urgo shook his head. “It may be too late for such a move. Our water stocks are already low, and the caravan will be out of water in two days, three at most. We expected to be at the stream by then. If we find the Akkadians there, and cannot drive them away from the water, we will lose many animals.”
He glanced around the circle, taking his time before speaking. “I think we should turn the caravan around. If we push hard, it is only four days back to the last watering place, perhaps less. And much of the traveling is downhill. If it turns out there is no danger, we will have lost but a few days.”
Only a man with Chief Urgo’s wisdom and experience could speak about turning back in the face of a few dirt eaters. Anyone else would have been branded a coward for uttering such despicable words.
Thutmose-sin considered Urgo’s suggestion. The caravan had turned back before in the face of some unexpected obstacle, but not for many years, and never because of a threat from mere dirt eaters.
“Many will die if we turn back,” Altanar said. “We have no water to spare.”
The Alur Meriki women’s duties included laying in stocks of water to supply each wagon with enough to reach the next watering hole. And they had done so. But no wagon wanted to burden itself with extra water weight when there was no need.
The women knew when the caravan expected to reach the stream. Most would have stored a little extra for their families, but not enough for the horses or herd animals. Hundreds, perhaps many more, would die of thirst. No one had considered the possibility that they might be prevented from reaching the water.
“We have time yet before we make such a decision,” Thutmose-sin spoke quickly before an argument started. “Besides, by now, Bekka may have dealt with the problem.”
He turned toward Unegen. “Return to your clan chief. Tell Chief Bekka to search out the route to the west, and see if there are any more dirt eaters approaching. When you have learned what you can, return here.” He gazed at each of the other clan leaders. “Is there anything else to say?”
No one answered. The silence, of course, only meant that no one wanted to challenge Thutmose-sin’s decision, not necessarily that they approved of it. He stood, ending the meeting. “Meanwhile, Altanar and Bar’rack will gather our forces and move toward the stream, just in case they are needed.”
The others rose with their Sarum, bowed, and departed. Only Urgo, climbing slowly to his feet, lingered behind.
Thutmose-sin met his gaze. “You are troubled by this, old friend?”
“Yes, Cousin. These dirt eaters, Akkadians as they now call themselves, have grown strong. Twice before we have fought against them, and both times we’ve taken heavy losses. During these years, their numbers have grown, and now they deem themselves rulers of this land.”
Urgo did not have to add ‘as we once did.’ The burden of those defeats weighed heavily on the leader of the Alur Meriki. Thutmose-sin had an even more personal reason to hate Eskkar and the dirt eaters of Akkad — the whorl-shaped scar on Thutmose-sin’s forehead had come from the pommel of Eskkar’s sword.
Thutmose-sin had been within a single sword stroke of killing the outcast leader of Akkad’s forces. Instead, Thutmose-sin’s sword had shattered on his foe’s blade, and Eskkar recovered enough to strike back, hard enough to render Thutmose-sin unconscious.
“They do not rule these lands yet,” Thutmose-sin replied.
“Still, there is no denying their power and fighting skills any longer.” Urgo shook his head in dismay at the idea. “The traitor Eskkar is no fool, to send a hundred armed and mounted fighters to their death. Even he cannot afford to waste so many men. I still say you should turn the caravan around while you deal with this threat.”
“And if the purpose of these strangers is to split our warriors away from the wagons, then what?” Thutmose-sin shook his head. “We might be risking more if we turn back.”
“Perhaps it is as you say.”
Urgo did not sound convinced. Thutmose-sin clasped his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “A handful of warriors should not make our people turn in fear, old friend.” He smiled at his cousin. “Tomorrow we will know more about what lies ahead. Then we will decide.”
Urgo’s stared into the eyes of his sarum. “Let us hope the decision is not already made for us.”
7
Hathor slid down from his horse, patted the animal’s neck, and stepped into the stream. The clear water, fresh from the mountains, chilled his feet, and he stood in it only long enough to quench his thirst, scooping handful after handful to his mouth. Around him, all the men and horses gulped the cold water, cleansing their dry mouths, tossing it over their faces and chests, and filling their bellies. Some in their exuberance splashed water on one another. The refreshing water tasted even sweeter after driving the barbarians out of their path.