Raising his voice, he rained down abuse on both combatants, to the cheers and shouts of the men. The noise from the brief swordplay would have alerted any spies watching their camp, and Eskkar’s bellows would have carried almost as far. The Sumerian scouts would report a second day of continued dissension in the Akkadian ranks. Satisfied, Eskkar ordered his commanders to break camp, and get the soldiers moving.
Hathor and Klexor split the thirty horsemen between them and moved out ahead, screening the archers. They headed north, back the way they came. Alexar and the bowmen followed, the leaders of ten moving up and down the column of soldiers as they marched, reminding them to look weary, as if they’d already been beaten in a fight. Eskkar ordered a steady pace, but he rested the men much more often than he had in the last eight days. At mid-morning they turned off their own tracks, and headed westward, taking a different path than the one they’d followed when chasing after the bandits.
With Grond at his side, Eskkar now led the way at the head of the archers. The countryside here wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. His horsemen had scouted the countryside yesterday, and some of the archers and riders had lived in these lands before moving to Akkad. As the first of his scouts reported back, Eskkar listened to each report, and he picked the next part of the march with care. The survival of his soldiers might depend on the path he chose through the hills and valleys that led to the west.
Not long after the Akkadians turned westward, enemy horsemen appeared brazenly on the hills behind them, as if tempting the retreating force to turn and give chase. Eskkar ignored them, determined to avoid wasting his men’s strength pursuing riders who simply rode away. His main worry this morning remained the possibility of an ambush. Sooner or later, the Sumerians would get in his path, and attempt to halt his force. Hopefully his change of direction westward would keep them off balance for the rest of today.
At midday, Eskkar gave the order to halt beside a small stream, and the men sank to the ground while they ate stale bread. Some removed their sandals and soaked their feet in the water, while a few splashed their faces and hands. Eskkar ordered that every water skin be filled. The countryside around them had been stripped bare of food and flocks by the enemy horsemen. Only a few loaves of stale bread remained to fill the Akkadian soldiers’ stomachs. By tomorrow, even that would be gone and real hunger would set in. Nevertheless, Eskkar no longer worried about food. That would soon be the least of his men’s needs.
After a longer than usual break, the Akkadians abandoned the pleasant little stream and resumed their journey. The men trudged through the low hills and sparse grassland. The ground grew a little greener with each step nearer to the Tigris, still a few days’ march away.
When dusk approached, Eskkar gave the order to halt. The campsite didn’t appear very favorable. No stream meandered nearby, just a half-mile-wide expanse of thick grass surrounded by low hills. Nevertheless, the seemingly haphazard choice had been selected with care. It had to serve Eskkar’s purposes as well as his enemies’.
The men still had chores to do before they could rest. Eskkar made sure they collected plenty of wood and chips, and soon crackling fires sent smoke trails skyward, warming the men though they had little to put in their cooking pots. The scouts had seen no game during the day’s march. Eskkar’s marching orders kept the scouts close to the bowmen, and meant they had no opportunity to hunt.
As on the previous night, extra guards were posted, and a strong perimeter established. The last thing Eskkar wanted now was for his enemies to attack in force during the night. Grond brought over a small loaf of bread that he’d soaked in the last stream they crossed. Eskkar took half, and had to force the tasteless mush down.
For once, Eskkar didn’t bother making the rounds of the camp. His commanders knew what needed to be done. Instead he gathered his blanket and tried to get some rest, stretching out on the ground and turning his back to the setting sun. Though he lay there unmoving, his mind raced with thoughts about the coming action. As dusk gathered, Eskkar managed to doze off, though he slept fitfully, as he always did the night before a fight. When Grond woke him, night had fallen, and the stars shone bright overhead. The fires already burned low, barely kept alive by soldiers tossing a few sticks on them now and again.
Eskkar took the hand Grond extended to him. “Is everything ready?”
“Yes, Captain. The men have already started slipping away. They’re waiting for us.”
Grond seldom wasted words, which might explain why the two had become good friends. As Eskkar slung his sword over his shoulder, Hathor slipped up beside him.
“My men are ready, Captain.”
Eskkar looked around the campsite. Men still moved about, and blankets still circled the dying fires. Grond and Hathor had let him rest as long as possible. “You’re sure you have everything you need?”
“Yes,” Hathor said. “Good luck to you and your men.”
“And good hunting to you.”
With a final clasp of his hand on Hathor’s shoulder, Eskkar disappeared into the darkness, following Grond. Hathor, Klexor, and all thirty horsemen would remain in the camp, tending the dying fires, acting as pickets, and trying to make themselves look as if they constituted all of the Akkadian forces. And praying to the gods that the Sumerians didn’t decide to attack tonight.
A hundred paces from the nearest fire, Eskkar found the rest of his men waiting silently for his arrival. The seven horse boys were there as well, scattered throughout the archers to make sure they kept silent. He’d considered leaving them behind, but knew what their fate would be in the morning. Though sitting on the ground, the archers had formed a double column, each man a long stride apart from his nearest companion, and ready for the long night march. The chill in the air made more than a few shiver.
Every bowman carried two quivers full of arrows, thirty shafts in each. Every fifth man carried a water skin, but that burden would be shared as they marched. In a few hours most of it would be gone. Other than their swords and knives, the archers carried nothing else, no food, no cooking pots, nothing. They’d already eaten the last of the food. Morning might herald a long day of hunger and thirst, with the grim possibility of a fight to the death.
Eskkar moved to the head of the column. Lifting his eyes, he studied the sky and located the North Star. He would keep that at his back. Before long, the moon would rise, but by then Eskkar and his force of archers intended to be well away from their campsite, which would remain in place to reassure those watching the Akkadians’ movements. With luck, he and his men would soon be far from the camp and any spying eyes.
It wouldn’t be a full moon tonight, but should shed enough light to help mark the trail. At least, Eskkar hoped it would.
“Tell the men to move out, Grond. Pass the word to each man.”
With that order, Eskkar had committed himself and his men to the risky plan. He waited until he felt certain the order had time to reach the rear of the column, and then started walking south, back along the trail they’d followed during the day.
Grond passed the order, then disappeared ahead into the darkness. He had the most dangerous assignment tonight. With two men, both experienced hunters, Grond would scout the way south and make sure Eskkar and the rest of the men didn’t blunder into any enemy sentries.