“We must follow wherever they lead,” she told Bantor. “They will rule this city someday, and Eskkar will remember who stood at his side. A chance like this might never come again.”
Bantor heeded her advice, and as his responsibilities and prospects grew, he’d somehow returned to the ways of his youth, softening his words and touch toward Annok-sur, and for that she gave thanks every night to Ishtar. Only the great mother goddess herself could have sent Trella to them. The two women had grown closer than sisters in many ways, working and planning together to secure Eskkar’s rule over the city.
Pushing the past out of her mind, Annok-sur returned her thoughts to Korthac. She had many tasks to start in motion. The women of Akkad would begin watching the Egyptian’s every move and reporting back through the network of spies and informers Trella and Annok-sur had established. Soon, she was sure, they would know all about this Korthac.
The future of both women depended on so many things beyond their control. Only moments ago Annok-sur had glimpsed the long scar, stretching from Trella’s left armpit to her hip. An assassin had come within a finger’s width of killing her, and anyone in Akkad with a few coins in his purse could hire a villain to do murder. Annok-sur worried every time Trella walked the streets, even though two alert bodyguards accompanied her. And now Eskkar had gone off riding around the countryside, risking his life for the chance to play warrior like any common barbarian. An arrow in the back or a knife in his ribs, and everything Trella had worked so hard for would come crashing down around them.
Well, Annok-sur could do nothing about Eskkar. The man took as little heed of his own life as he did of Trella’s. Nevertheless, Trella needed Eskkar, needed him to protect not only her and the child-to-come, but Annok-sur and her husband Bantor as well. Both women realized how dangerous their position in Akkad really was. One slip, one mistake, and they could all vanish. During the siege, everyone had clamored for Eskkar and Trella to save them. Now, if Eskkar got himself killed, Trella’s authority would disappear. Everyone would remember her days as a slave, and Trella’s control of the nobles and soldiers would vanish like the morning mist on the river.
In a year, even six months, Annok-sur knew things would change. Eskkar and Trella would soon have an heir, and by then the people would be used to their rule. Wealth would flow into Akkad and be shared by all of its inhabitants. The people would be happy and content; gratitude and praise would flow to Akkad’s rulers.
Annok-sur sighed and stood. She picked up Trella’s comb from the side table and arranged her own hair, then left the bedroom closing the door silently behind her. She still had an hour before night set in to spread the word about Korthac. By tomorrow, half the women in Akkad would be watching his movements. But her thoughts flowed in the same circles as her mistress, with the same worries. Time would save them all, if there were enough of it. Until then, no one could be allowed to harm her mistress. No one.
5
The sun beat down from directly overhead when Eskkar and his men topped a low rise and saw the village of Bisitun in the distance, about an hour’s march away. Like Akkad, it nestled against the eastern bank of the river Tigris. At Akkad, though, the great river curled halfway around the city. Here at Bisitun the river ran straight. A mile more to the northeast, and the Tigris would begin to curve sharply northward, continuing its long journey to the mountains of its birth.
Also like Akkad, Bisitun offered easy fordage of the great river. The Tigris here stretched wider from bank to bank, and the water flowed slower and somewhat shallower than at Akkad. A narrow, sandy island split the flowing water in two, and allowed travelers to rest at the river’s midpoint.
During the late summer season, when the depth ran even lower, a strong man could walk and swim across to the other side, though the distance reached almost a quarter of a mile. Usually small boats made of reeds carried men, supplies, and even horses on their journey. With the coming of the fall season, the river ran deeper and stronger, and its strength would continue to increase until midsummer.
Eskkar signaled a halt, and the Akkadian soldiers took their rest, glad to have reached the end of their journey. It had taken them five days to march here from Dilgarth, long days with hard traveling broken frequently by training and special drills. Those had puzzled the men, but Eskkar, ignoring their questions, pushed them ever harder. With a conflict almost certain, he wanted the iron discipline that had saved Akkad, and Eskkar demanded every order be instantly obeyed, without question or argument.
The soldiers got no respite from the drills even after dark, their rest and dinner often interrupted by subcommanders barking out orders to prepare a line of battle or form up for an attack. At least once each night, the men found themselves jolted awake, their leaders shouting that the enemy was attacking, and bellowing at them to find their weapons and places.
By the middle of the second day, a shouted command would quickly transform them into a crude square, with the pack animals and supplies in the center, ringed by ready bowmen. Well drilled by now, they would not be surprised by any attacking force. Moreover, they had the soldier’s confidence in themselves and their comrades, knowing that every man knew his place and his duties.
Even the liverymen, scribes, and merchants received extra tasks, and these noncombatants drilled as rigorously as the soldiers, taking charge of the men’s baggage or making sure spare arrows and extra water stood ready. That night, a few of the men had grown weary enough to complain, but they did that only once. Hamati had knocked one down so hard that the man lay unconscious for almost an hour.
By the time they reached Bisitun, Eskkar’s men had achieved the mood he intended. Tired, near exhaustion, footsore-they’d transferred their anger to the men in Bisitun, the bandits who had wearied their legs and interrupted their sleep.
The Akkadians took in their surroundings with grim interest, knowing that, from today on, there would be no more drills. If the men felt worried about what would happen now that they’d reached Bisitun, they were too tired to show it. The scene before them seemed peaceful enough. The usual farms lay scattered across the landscape, crisscrossed by the ever-present irrigation canals, with the occasional brown mud houses. A single dirt pathway, well trodden, continued its way up to the village. Everything appeared peaceful, and it looked much the same as on Eskkar’s last visit here, nearly two years ago.
“Well, Captain,” Sisuthros said, as he rode up to the head of the column, where Eskkar and Grond had stopped their horses, “do we camp here or should we press on?”
“Let’s stay here for an hour, at least,” Eskkar answered. “We’re in no rush now.”
“They won’t come out to challenge us,” Grond said. “That would be too easy. Even bandits aren’t that stupid.”
“No, I suppose not,” Eskkar said. “But the men need a rest anyway, and from now on, we have to convince Ninazu of our plan.”
Eskkar caught the glance that passed between Sisuthros and Grond, but neither man said anything. The time for arguing had passed, and the next few days would resolve everyone’s doubts.
So the men rested and stared at the village for over an hour before they resumed their march. They moved slowly, the soldiers walking close together, ringed at a good distance by the twenty mounted riders. During the last four days, Eskkar had drilled the men for an attack by a large, mounted band of riders. The soldiers had learned to form up rapidly, string their bows and prepare their weapons, and make ready for an attack from any or all sides.