Eskkar knew well that old story, one he had experienced himself not so long ago, though the less anyone learned about his past the better. He didn’t feel sorry for what he had done. Instead he felt embarrassed by the fact he and his raiders, half drunk and still hung over from too much ale, had been taken by surprise. A band of barbarian warriors had secretly watched him capture a village and plunder it for two days, before they swooped down on him and his band, overwhelming them in moments.
His luck had saved him again. He’d escaped, clinging to his horse and fleeing for his life, most of his men killed or captured, the rest scattered to the winds. He put that uncomfortable memory out of his mind.
“Good work, Sisuthros. Just make sure you don’t make it too easy for them. Let them pick up scraps of information from the men.”
“We’ve been very careful, Captain. The scribes are talking freely, though they still record every sale, and the price we pay.”
Eskkar frowned at that. He couldn’t get away from the ever-present scribes, who spent their lives counting and recording, not only men and animals, but bags of grain, loaves of bread, the numbers of swords and bows. Already one pack animal groaned under its load of small clay tablets.
“You’ll have to deal with the scribes. Remember, Trella and Nicar will check every item as well. So take care, or they’ll take any losses out of our pay.”
That remark brought a grin to both men. Eskkar had no more coins in his purse today than when he’d first wandered into Akkad. And the only pay Sisuthros would see remained inside Bisitun, still waiting to be earned. The village would first have to be taken, then nursed back to prosperity before Sisuthros saw any gold for himself. But he would rule here, in Eskkar’s name, and both men understood that, in time, the gold would come.
Sisuthros stayed with Eskkar until midafternoon, when the next ragged column of farmers appeared on the road. This group, about twenty-five men and ten women, was larger than the one this morning. Most of the same farmers had returned, their carts once again loaded with bread, fruit, vegetables, a scrawny chicken or two, and even a few skins of strong wine.
Some of the women carried very little, and Eskkar guessed that what they had for sale was not necessarily what they carried in their baskets. Well, a little business of that kind wouldn’t hurt his men, except in their purses.
Sisuthros repeated the process from the morning. At first he held the farmers outside the camp, until the press of business and time made discipline relax and he let them deliver their goods inside. There they mingled with the soldiers, everyone still curious about each other. This time Eskkar thought one or two of the strangers had looked toward him with more than idle curiosity.
The afternoon trading lasted almost two hours, before Sisuthros finally got the last one out of the camp and on his way. A few of the women wanted to remain, and Sisuthros had to line up the men to make sure they were all truly gone. Afterward, he had to deal with the scribes for a few moments before he joined Grond and Eskkar.
“By the gods, if I had to do that every day, I’d fall on my sword!”
Sisuthros exclaimed. “I’m beginning to hate all traders and merchants.
And the whores! Thank the gods they won’t be back tomorrow.” The farmers had been told not to come back until the day after tomorrow. The men from Akkad now had more than enough supplies to last a few days.
“You won’t do very well running Bisitun with that attitude,” Eskkar commented. “Did any of them seem unusual?”
“Yes, Captain. There were two or three that looked a little different.
One had soft hands and looked as if he hadn’t farmed in some time. He kept looking around and asking the scribes plenty of questions.”
“I noticed that one, wandering through the camp and talking to the men.” Eskkar knew it would take the spy or spies several hours to get back into Bisitun, now that Eskkar’s men blocked the main road. Informers would have to go upriver a bit, then hug the riverbank until they reached the village. Or if they had a boat readied, they could float down to Bisitun.
Either way, by this evening Ninazu would have his report. He would know his opponent’s camp was strong and secure, the men confident and relaxed, and that a large group of reinforcements would be joining up soon.
Now Eskkar wondered what Ninazu would do with the information.
Ninazu’s choices would be limited. He could try and wait it out inside the village, trusting to his palisade to stop the Akkadians. The problem with that plan was that if Eskkar really had almost two hundred men and the skill to use them effectively, Ninazu wasn’t likely to stop them. And once his followers learned of the coming reinforcements, the fi ght would go out of many of them. They hadn’t joined up with Ninazu to cross swords in a close, desperate battle for Bisitun. No, they sought after easy loot, not a death fight.
Another choice for Ninazu would be to slip across the river. That way would always be open to him. But Ninazu wouldn’t want to leave a big, wealthy village behind, one that would immediately be fortified against him. He would then be in the position of trying to keep a motley group of bandits together in lands already plundered, while having no secure base of operations. The Akkadians would start hunting him within days, while his men would start lusting after Ninazu’s personal booty. That choice wouldn’t look too attractive to Ninazu either.
As Eskkar saw it, that left Ninazu with only one other course of action-attack the Akkadians before the reinforcements arrived, overwhelm them, and take their weapons. Faced with such a defeat, the supposed reinforcements might turn back. At the least, Ninazu would be no worse off than he was now. A victory might even give his men the courage and resolve to resist another group of besiegers.
The rider had come from Akkad only yesterday, and it would be dark before news of the “reinforcements” reached Bisitun. It wasn’t likely Ninazu could get his men ready on such short notice to attempt anything tonight. Eskkar intended to keep the pressure on Ninazu, to continue forcing him to react as Eskkar wanted. Tonight, the next step of the plan would begin, the one that would draw the noose around Ninazu even tighter.
6
As the afternoon waned, Eskkar met with his commanders and the fifteen men chosen for the initial raid. They’d had to wait until all the farmers moved well away from the camp. The carefully selected soldiers received their instructions, and Eskkar used the few hours before darkness to make sure Sisuthros and the men knew exactly what to do. Only after Eskkar felt satisfied did they gather around the campfire for the evening meal.
Nevertheless, Eskkar kept reviewing the details of the attack during dinner, speaking to each man, making sure each knew his assignment. Finally even Eskkar could find nothing wrong. He went off by himself, to try and get some sleep, leaving word to wake him when the men were ready.
Sleep came slowly. Eskkar had never sent men out on a raid before, had never delegated such a command to another. Always he had led sorties like this himself. To send others out into danger while he remained safe in camp seemed unmanly. But he knew that he couldn’t risk his own life on such a small raid, just as he knew Sisuthros could easily direct the men.
At midnight, Grond woke Eskkar from a restless sleep. Sisuthros and his men stood ready, each standing by his horse. Eskkar gripped Sisuthros by the shoulder, then stood aside as his subcommander led the first two of his men out of the camp. The rest of the soldiers left, two at a time, after a slow count to one hundred, so that the horses wouldn’t get nervous in the darkness and begin whinnying, or making sounds that might alert any keen ears in Bisitun. Eskkar knew horses could do strange things at night, spooking at some shadow, the moon, or even a breeze.