“Subutai has less than three hundred warriors,” Fashod said, “not counting some boys and old men who might be able to fight. But there are over a thousand people up there. They will not last long without water.”
“We cannot attack until Bekka arrives.” Unegen informed Yassur about their Sarum’s decision to attack the invaders. “But he will not be here for another few days. Meanwhile, we must gather as much information as we can about the enemy.”
“Is there a way for us to rejoin our people?” Fashod spoke directly to Yassur.
“Not during the day. As far as we can see, all the approaches to the hilltop are surrounded. The ascent at the southern end seems to be the least guarded. It’s steep, but you might be able to climb up there after dark.”
“Then we will go tonight.” Fashod turned to Sargon. “But you do not need to come with us. You can still return to your own people.”
Sargon had no intention of leaving Tashanella. “No. We go in together.”
“So be it.” Fashod shifted his gaze back to Yassur. “We can spend the day studying the approaches.”
“We were thinking about capturing one or two Carchemishi,” Yassur told Unegen. “We might learn much that would help Chief Bekka when he arrives.”
Sargon watched as Unegen thought about that for a moment.
“No, we don’t want these invaders to look to the east,” Unegen said. “Better to have them thinking only about the Ur Nammu.”
“As long as they watch the hilltop, we should be able to slip through their lines,” Fashod said. “They will not be expecting anyone to try and break in. When they settle down for the night, we’ll see what trail looks best.” He took one last look at the distant plateau. “Now we should rest. We’ll need all our strength tonight.”
They slipped back below the crest and returned to the camp. Unegen and Yassur decided to send out more scouts, and prepare for Bekka’s arrival.
Fashod and the other Ur Nammu ignored the activity, and dropped to the ground to get some sleep. Sargon followed, though he doubted he could get much rest. Tashanella was close by, and he might not be able to reach her. Despite Fashod’s confidence, it would be difficult to get past so many guards.
In spite of his worries, exhaustion overcame his thoughts and he slipped into a deep but troubled slumber.
Across the space that separated Sargon and the Ur Nammu from the Alur Meriki, Yassur turned to Unegen and Den’rack. “Is he really the son of the outcast Eskkar? Are the Ur Nammu now our friends?”
Unegen lifted his hands and let them drop. He related what had passed at the council meeting to Yassur and his men, who gathered around, eager to hear the news.
“So, Chief Bekka decided that it helps our clan to help the Ur Nammu. And it will do no harm to have Akkad in our debt. Besides, Trayack wanted to kill them all. Perhaps that is why Bekka is helping them.”
Yassur shook his head and spat on the ground. “Always the clan chiefs quarrel amongst themselves. Each one wants to be Sarum, no matter how many dead warriors it takes. Look at Bekka. A few years ago, he was a leader of fifty. Now he is Sarum.”
“Well, when you are a clan leader,” Unegen said, “you may hold different thoughts. As for me, I trust Bekka more than I ever trusted Thutmose-sin.”
“And this boy, Sargon,” Den’rack spoke for the first time, “there is something about him. He’s as foolish as he is brave, but he knows the ways of a leader. I’m glad I did not kill him when I had the chance.”
“Yes, killing him would have saved us a long ride,” Unegen said, his voice as cheerful as if he were talking about a hunt. “Well, it’s too late for that now. It’s time to get ready for battle.”
Sargon was the last to awaken from his sleep. When he did, he saw Fashod and his companions had started up the hill, to take one final look at the Carchemishi. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Sargon followed them up the slope and dropped to ground alongside Garal. Sargon’s eyes widened at the sight across the plain.
Campfires burned every hundred paces or so in a ring around the base of the hill. Tending them were hundreds of Carchemishi fighters, weapons at the ready, should the Ur Nammu try to come down the hill, either to attack or break through the lines.
Two hundred paces behind the ring of men, almost on a direct line between the Alur Meriki vantage point and the Ur Nammu plateau, a herd of horses had been collected into a makeshift corral. More armed men guarded the animals, with patrols extending out halfway to the ridge where Sargon lay on his stomach.
“We won’t be able to sneak up and steal their horses again,” Garal whispered. “Our night raid has made them wary.”
Sargon remembered how nervous he’d been that night, not that long ago, just standing there and holding the riders’ mounts. “How will we get by them?”
“Fashod thinks that on the south side, the hill is too steep for horses or armed men to come down, but a few might be able to climb up.”
Sargon wasn’t so sure. The location was a long way off. They would have to swing wide of the patrols to approach from the south.
“Maybe Unegen can create a diversion?”
“Good idea. Fashod suggested it, too,” Garal said, “but Unegen says no. He thinks this place is perfect for an attack against the enemy’s herd. He doesn’t want to do anything to make the invaders aware of his presence.”
“That’s a big herd, at least eight or nine hundred horses.” Sargon studied the herd. No wonder Unegen wanted to raid it. Sargon’s father had said many times that, to barbarians, stealing horses from your enemy was more impressive than killing them.
“The ground on the far side of the hill must not be favorable to hold a herd,” Garal mused. “Except for the men riding night patrol, Yassur says they’ve collected all of their horses at this one place.”
“There must be another hundred riders on patrol,” Sargon estimated. Still, the horse herd meant nothing to Sargon. He shifted his gaze back to the south, to examine the open space they would have to cross. His father had often spoken of the importance of studying the ground as best you could before any venture.
Fashod moved up beside them. “Come. It’s almost time to go, and we need to prepare.”
He led the way down the slope, and they collected their weapons. Fashod ran his sharpening stone over his sword a few times, then passed it to Sargon, who did the same. Unegen joined them, carrying a quiver of arrows. “Each of my men has given up a few arrows, so you can have a full quiver. You may need the extra shafts when you reach the top.”
Garal and Jennat had already strung their bows and slipped them over their shoulders. Now they, too, sharpened their swords. Sargon slung his lance across his back.
Den’rack appeared, carrying a water skin in one hand and a food sack in the other. “Eat and drink as much as you can now. Don’t take any food with you. There will be plenty of fresh meat up there.”
It took Sargon a moment to follow the thought. A few slaughtered horses could supply plenty of raw meat. Sargon didn’t enjoy the prospect, though his father’s men had been forced to eat a few horses at the battle of the stream.
Yassur joined them. “My men will guide you in. We’ll swing wide to the east before turning toward the hilltop. We should be able to ride within a mile without being seen or heard.”
A few more moments, and they were ready.
“Good luck to you.” Unegen clasped arms with Fashod, the gesture of friendship. “Tell your Sarum to hold out until Chief Bekka arrives. That should give you the chance to break loose. When you can wait no longer, give us the sign. We may be able to help.”
Sargon realized that Fashod and Unegen must have arranged a way to signal to the Alur Meriki.
Fashod nodded. “I understand. Tell all your men we are in your debt.”
Jennat and Garal also offered their thanks to Unegen and his men. Then Sargon faced the Alur Meriki leaders. “Good hunting to you, Den’rack, and to you, Unegen.”