Men on horseback would only have a clear path directly down the main road, which would send them straight at the encampment, or along the river’s edge, where they would encounter archers and mounted men. Ninazu would see all this, as could his men, and they would begin to worry.
For days Ninazu had assured his men that they could easily fight off Eskkar’s small force from behind the palisade. Instead, the bandits could see a hard fight ahead of them if they tried to escape. Moreover, the worst worry of all would be knowing that, in two or three days, another strong force would reinforce the attackers.
Grond returned to join him. “All the men are in position, Captain.
Sisuthros and Hamati are getting some sleep, but the rest of the men are resting at their posts.”
“Watch the walls, Grond. If they all decide to run for it, the guards on the palisade will slowly be replaced by villagers. They’ll be nervous and frightened. That might give us warning.”
“Do you think they’ll run?”
Eskkar thought about that. “His brother was brave enough. I don’t think Ninazu will give up Bisitun without a fight. Besides, he sees us splitting our force, and that will make him wonder what we will do when night falls. If he thinks that we’ve weakened our force here, he may fall into our trap.” Once again, Eskkar went though the thought process. “I still think he will come tonight, with a large force, right at our camp.”
He faced his bodyguard, who still stood there, doubt still written on his face. “I know, Grond, I have my own doubts. But if he does nothing, and another hundred men appear, he’ll be trapped. His men will run if he does nothing.” Eskkar shrugged. “Well, that’s what I would do. But I am not him, so we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Are you sure that we can withstand them, if he sends everyone against us?”
“These are bandits, Grond, not Alur Meriki warriors. They have no clan or family to fight for, no code of bravery to sustain them. They are held together only by their lust for gold. If thirty of us cannot break them…” He shook his head and headed back to the rear of the camp.
The daylight hours dragged by, one by one, with Eskkar pacing back and forth. The camp had to appear no different from the day before, so all the regular activities continued. Men stood to their watches, cooking fires sent smoke into the sky, and anyone not standing guard relaxed on the embankment, watching the village.
The detachments on either side of Bisitun reported in, but they saw no sign of anyone trying to cross the river or escape along its banks.
Sisuthros, after he had taken his rest, declared that to be a good sign-if they weren’t trying to run, then they would be ready to fight.
As the afternoon began to lengthen, Eskkar, Sisuthros, Hamati, and Grond met once again, and began to prepare for the night’s work. They went over everything for almost two hours, thinking of what could go wrong, what evil chance could upset their plans, what they would do if the plan failed, and even what they would do if they were beaten.
The soldiers started the evening fires and prepared their meal before Eskkar and his subcommanders finished. At least the men continued eating well, thanks to his largess with the local farmers. With dinner finished, Eskkar and his commanders met with the other senior men. The thirty men in the camp would be at the greatest risk, and Eskkar wanted them to know exactly what he expected of them. Each of the subcommanders went over it yet again, this time with their men.
Eskkar watched, looking for signs of confusion, but saw nothing but confidence. No one showed any fear, or doubted their ability to beat off an attack. The men believed in him, believed in his luck if nothing else. At last, it was time to go. “Take care, Sisuthros. And good hunting to all of us.”
Grond had made all the preparations, and he and Eskkar slipped out of the camp. They took their time moving across the dark landscape, swinging wide to their rear, lest some chance fl ash of moonlight revealed them to any sharp-eyed guards on the village palisade. Eskkar didn’t want to trip and sprain an ankle in the darkness. Finally, they joined up with the men who guarded the southern edge of the river.
The small camp had only a single fire burning in front of it, lighting the darkness between it and the village. The men sat well back from the firelight, waiting for Eskkar to arrive. They’d spent the afternoon practicing their archery, the same as they had done every day before and during the siege of Akkad, and talking over what situations they would likely encounter and how they would respond. Every one of these bowmen could loose a properly aimed arrow every three seconds, and some even faster.
Now they waited, confident in the skills and in their leaders.
Grond had briefed them earlier in the day, but as soon as Eskkar joined them, they checked their preparations again. These men were eager, anxious to go on the offensive, and ready to take their chances. Five of them were already Hawk Clan members and another seven, mostly experienced fighters, looked to prove themselves worthy of such an honor.
Mitrac waited there, leaning on his bow, next to the two men he had considered his best archers, both men who had fought beside Hamati at Dilgarth. Even Eskkar felt satisfied that everyone knew what to do.
Midnight passed without event. Eskkar could do nothing to make the time pass faster, not even pace around. If Ninazu’s attack came, it would likely be when the moon began to set, about two hours before dawn. Too excited and nervous to rest or sleep, Eskkar and his men just waited. Most of them lay on their backs and watched the silver orb slowly cross the night sky. At last the moon began to fade. The time had arrived.
Eskkar sat on the ground, drumming his fingers against his leg, a bad habit he had picked up during the siege of Akkad. He didn’t like anyone knowing he felt nervous, and he stopped the motion the moment he became conscious of it. Except for the faint crackling of the fire, Eskkar could hear nothing. Another hour crept by, and still he heard no sign of any activity. He wanted to start moving, but he didn’t dare take the chance.
Any unusual sound might stop Ninazu’s attack. If Ninazu even did plan to attack tonight, it should have come by now.
His doubts growing every moment, Eskkar had just decided that he had guessed wrong when a shout went up from the Akkadians’ main encampment. A moment later someone hurled a torch into the sky, Sisuthros’s signal an attack had begun. Shouts drifted across the black ground.
Without any commands, Eskkar and his men started to advance, trying to make as little noise as possible. They swung wide around their small fire.
In single file, they moved rapidly toward the southern corner of the village, each man following the man ahead of him. Mitrac led the way. He’d studied the ground during the day, and now Eskkar and the others followed him. Behind Mitrac strode his two picked archers, trailed by Eskkar, Grond, and the rest of the men.
Time moved quickly, and they soon drew close to the village, where it came closest to the river. When Mitrac stopped, less than a hundred paces separated them from the palisade. They crouched among the rubble, and hoped no one watched this side of the village too closely. Mitrac and his chosen archers disappeared into the darkness.
Sound continued to drift in from the front of the village, though Eskkar couldn’t tell what any of it meant. For all he knew, his men in the camp had been overrun and slaughtered, or they had already driven back Ninazu’s men. Whatever the result, Eskkar was committed, and they hadn’t much time. He hoped any sentries watching this side of the village would be lax, their attention focused on events happening in front of the main gate.
Precious moments dragged by with no movement or activity from Mitrac. Eskkar couldn’t control his patience. He hated to restrain himself from action when all his instincts urged him to the attack. He started to move forward, when one of Mitrac’s men slipped back to his side. “Come!” he whispered, “Mitrac killed the sentry.”