The Egyptian nodded respectfully, then kicked his horse and galloped off, riding hard to catch up with his men. Mitrac knew that the Akkadian horsemen had as dangerous an assignment as his own. They needed to ride south at top speed, to link up with Eskkar’s archers at the Sumerian camp. Hathor’s warriors would be the final blow on the Sumerians, the stroke that Eskkar hoped would finish them as a fighting force. With luck, they might even get ahead of the Sumerians. Otherwise, they would follow their trail and try to hunt them down. Hathor would be facing plenty of danger of his own today. If anything went wrong, they’d be caught on tired horses in open ground.
The archers completed digging the last of the holes. Then, on their hands and knees, they spread grass over and around them, trying to erase all signs of their work. When Mitrac felt satisfied that any oncoming riders wouldn’t see the deadly holes until they were right on top of them, he gathered his men atop the hill. They formed a rough half-circle that encompassed the hilltop. Swords were withdrawn from their sheaths and stuck into the earth.
Mitrac gazed at each of his archers. They looked nervous, excited, a few of the untested even looked scared. But all them appeared ready to gamble their skill against those of the Sumerians. Thirteen men would try to stop between seventy or eighty horsemen. On open ground, Mitrac knew it couldn’t be done, not against a determined enemy, and these Sumerian horse fighters clearly knew their trade.
But the little hilltop might provide the archers with enough of an edge, and all of his bowmen could loose four aimed shafts in the time it took a man to count to ten. When the horsemen arrived, they would have to decide their course of action. Either attack at once and in full force, or turn aside and take the longer route south.
The waiting began. Mitrac realized he should have kept the men busy, even if it meant digging more holes than needed. The longer they waited, the more time they had to worry, and the more tense they got. He tried to talk to them, but quickly realized he was only making them more nervous. With a shake of his head, Mitrac suddenly understood why Eskkar always remained so grim and silent right before a battle. Better to say nothing, he decided, and just try to look confident.
This time they all heard the horsemen coming, and the ground shook even harder than from Hathor’s passage. Mitrac no longer cared, and without realizing it, he let out a sigh of relief. Two advance riders came into view. They halted at the same place where Hathor stopped as soon as they saw Mitrac’s archers, getting to their feet and readying their weapons. In moments the main force joined the scouts, and the troop halted at the top of the valley, just out of range. A heated discussion soon began, as evidenced by the gestures of the riders.
Mitrac smiled at their hesitation. They didn’t know how many men might be hiding just behind the hill. For all they could tell, all of Eskkar’s archers could be here, just waiting for the chance to slaughter their enemies.
That risk was too great to take. The two scouts turned their horses and began climbing up the valley wall, scrambling their way to the valley rim. Halfway up, the horses stopped, refusing to go any further, and the men dismounted and made their way up the last hundred paces on foot. From there they trotted along the valley rim until they could see behind the hill.
“They’re afraid of our bows,” Mitrac said, as much to reassure his men as himself.
The two scouts continued along the crest, until they could see well up into the valley beyond. They were within range now, and Mitrac considered loosing a few arrows at them, but decided not to waste shafts at such a long distance.
The two men turned suddenly and retraced their steps at a run. Soon they were slipping and sliding down the slope to where their horses waited.
Mitrac possessed very good eyes, and he used them to watch the two men report. They spoke to a rider on a large brown horse with a splash of white across its chest, and another man riding a gray speckled mount. Those would be the leaders. Without thinking, Mitrac took a quick count of his enemy. At least seventy riders, more than enough to wreak havoc in Eskkar’s rear.
“Men, when I give the word, target those two riders.” He described both horses, though he felt certain all his men had identified them by now. “Two shafts from every man, that’s all. But hold until I give the word.”
Now there was nothing to do but wait. Mitrac felt the excitement rising in his chest. He told himself that it wasn’t fear, but that wasn’t entirely true. He and his men had nowhere to go. If they left their vantage point, they’d be run down. His archers now had no choice but to stand together and defend this position. The battle was set, and the next few moments might determine his fate, as well as the fate of all the Akkadians.
“Y ou’re sure there’s no more behind them?”
“Yes, Razrek,” the scout replied, breathing hard from his exertions. “We could see all the way up the valley. And we saw fresh tracks, so the Akkadian cavalry must have just passed through.”
“We’re going to lose a lot of men riding through that gap,” Mattaki said. “Let’s go back and ride around this valley. Eskkar weakened his forces to leave these behind. Even Eridu should be able to hold them off. Why should we lose any of our men trying to get past a handful of archers?”
“They picked their spot well,” Razrek said, ignoring Mattaki’s advice. He studied the ground, searching for any advantage. “By the time we ride around them, the battle will be over.”
“There may not even be a battle,” Mattaki argued. “If the Akkadians haven’t reached Eridu’s soldiers, then we’ll have wasted men and horses for nothing.”
“And if they have reached Eridu’s camp, Eskkar’s archers and his cavalry will smash those fools.”
“Against those odds?” Mattaki shook his head. “And if they do, it’s all the more reason to save our men and horses.”
Razrek shook his head. “No, we can’t take the chance. Even if Eskkar attacks and pushes Eridu’s men back, our men can turn the tide of battle. We’re going through.”
“Damn you, Razrek! What about the archers? Do we ride them down?”
“No, half of us would never make it up the hill. A few dead horses and the approach would be blocked. They’d pick us off like flies. We’ll take our chances and ride through. We might still be able to smash Eskkar’s force.”
Even if he lost a quarter of his men, Razrek decided, he would still have enough to turn the battle at the camp. Mattaki thought like a raider, out for easy kills and quick conquests. Razrek perceived the real danger in the situation. If Eskkar broke through, there was nothing to stop him from moving all the way south into Sumeria, to Sumer itself if he wanted. In that case, Razrek and his horsemen might need some luck to get back to Sumer.
Razrek struggled to control his horse. All the animals had picked up the scent of fear and danger from his men, and wanted to mill about. The sooner they got past this handful of bowmen, the better. “Get our bowmen ready!” Razrek shouted. His horsemen had about ten bows, the shorter ones that could be fired from horseback. “Try and take a few shots as we ride through.” It took only a few moments to ready the men.
“We’re going straight through!” he shouted. “Now ride, damn you, ride!”
“T hey’re coming!”
Mitrac smiled at the needless warning, shouted by an excited young archer in his first battle.
“Ready your shafts, men!” Mitrac had to raise his voice to be heard over the hoof beats of the approaching horsemen, but he kept his voice calm. “Aim for the horses and remember to lead your targets!”
Almost the same words Eskkar had repeated again and again at the siege of Akkad. Bring the horse down, and the rider is helpless, either stunned or injured, and suddenly on foot and unsure of himself. An easy kill.