Still, Korthac knew someone in the countryside would have seen something, and a hint of his men’s passage would probably arrive in the morning. Besides, the longer the men had to wait, the more likely something else would go wrong, or that Takany and Ariamus would get in some argument and blood would fl ow. And right now, Korthac knew he needed Ariamus and his horsemen more than Takany, a brute fighter completely loyal to his master.
Hathor returned to the room and stood in the doorway. “Rihat and his companion are on their way back, lord.”
“Summon Simut. It’s time to prepare.”
Hathor stepped away, returning in a few moments with Simut, another one of Korthac’s “bodyguards” who’d proven himself in many fights over the years.
“Gather your three men, Simut,” Korthac began. “Do you know what to do?” Korthac had gone over this assignment several times with the man, so there was no need to go into the details again. “Make sure you give yourself enough time to find Gatus and kill him.”
Simut nodded. “I understand, lord. He shall die in the lane returning to his house.”
They’d studied Gatus’s routine for over a week. The captain of the guard would finish his duties at the barracks or the council house, then visit his favorite tavern for a single mug of ale before heading back to his house just as dusk fell.
“If something goes wrong, Simut,” Korthac said, “if the alarm is given, you’ll have to kill him as he leaves the alehouse. The man must die, no matter how many men you lose.”
“Yes, lord. I’ll not fail you.”
Of all the men in the city, only Gatus had the experience and presence to act as a rallying point for any resistance. With all of the other senior men out of Akkad, the rest of the soldiers and the city’s inhabitants would look to him for leadership. So the old soldier had to die first, to dishearten the soldiers and the people.
“Then you’ll be well rewarded when we have the city.” Korthac turned to Hathor. “You’ll keep the gate to Trella’s house open?”
Trella’s house, with its surrounding wall and force of soldiers stationed within, would be easy to defend, given sufficient warning. And Trella would provide another rallying point for resistance. Korthac preferred to capture her alive, if possible, but dead or alive, the house must be taken before it could become a stronghold to rally the city’s inhabitants.
Korthac had given that dangerous assignment to Hathor. The man could think while he fought, and he knew the importance of capturing the house.
“As soon as Takany’s inside the river gate, I’ll join you at the house, Hathor. Just hold the gate open until I arrive.”
“Yes, lord. The gate will stay open.”
“Then by tonight, we will rule in Akkad,” Korthac said. He looked from one to the other. Neither man showed any sign of doubt or fear. They’d fought at Korthac’s side before, and he’d always led them to victory. They understood the plan, and had no questions. They were ready.
“Prepare your men,” Korthac ordered. “It is time.”
En-hedu pretended not to notice Korthac’s men moving about, and kept hawking her wares at every passerby, often following shoppers for a dozen steps up and down the lane, a convenient excuse to move about and study any goings-on. The sun had begun to sink toward the western hills when she noted Hathor leaving Korthac’s house, accompanied by four men, two of them carrying rolled-up blankets under their arms. En-hedu thought that a little odd; she’d never seen Hathor go anywhere with more than one guard before. She called out to him, but either he didn’t hear or had no time for her usual banter.
By now business at the river dock would be winding down, and certainly no boats would be setting forth so close to sundown. En-hedu still puzzled over what it might mean when Simut, another of Korthac’s bodyguards, departed the house, accompanied by three more men. Again, two of them carried bulky bundles.
Unsure of what, if anything, these strange goings-on meant, she knew she must tell Tammuz. En-hedu began packing up her leather goods displayed upon the cart’s frayed blanket. The blanket also served to transport the items, and in a few moments it resembled the bundles Korthac’s men carried, only shorter. Using two mismatched leather strips, she fastened the ends of the blanket to seal it.
Her mind kept working, however. Weeks had gone by with nothing out of the ordinary. Now many of the Egyptians were moving about, and the change in their manner worried her.
By the time she finished packing up her goods, she heard voices speaking Egyptian, and looked up to see Korthac exit the house, accompanied by two of his men. Again, one of Korthac’s followers carried what seemed a heavy bundle, this one a bit longer than those carried by the other men.
En-hedu never looked up, even when Korthac passed within an arm’s length of her cart. She watched his feet through her tangled hair, and waited until he disappeared down the lane. The sight of the grim Egyptian worried her. She felt tempted to leave the cart, but an abandoned cart might call attention to herself. Best to move it as she did every night, shoving it down the lane, back to Ninbanda’s house, where it would be safe.
But before she could start the cart moving, a fourth group of Egyptians stepped into the lane.
Staring at their feet, she counted five of them. The number surprised her. That meant the three houses were now empty, whatever contents the dwellings contained left unguarded. In the six weeks she’d watched the houses, Korthac never had less than half of his men inside, guarding his property.
This last group, however, did not go toward the river. Instead they went up the lane, toward the center of Akkad. She watched their backs for a moment, then leaned her weight against the cart, which yielded reluctantly with a screech of wood against wood. En-hedu, alarmed now, used all her strength to keep the cart moving, unmindful of those who had to dart out of its path as it creaked and wobbled along. When she reached Ninbanda’s hut, she didn’t pause, just shoved the cart against the hut’s entrance as she called out to the woman to attend it. En-hedu hurried down another lane toward the alehouse.
Something was wrong. She found herself running, clutching the heavy blanket of wares to her chest and dodging between the work-weary villagers plodding back to their homes. Breathing hard, she turned into the narrow lane that led to Tammuz’s alehouse, ducked past two men who tried to greet her, pushed through the half-open door, and ran inside.
Kuri looked up at the noise, but she ignored his usual smile. “Where’s Tammuz? Is he here?” She dropped her bundle, worried that Tammuz might have been watching the house, might even have followed Hathor or Simut’s party.
But Tammuz stepped out from their private room. He’d heard the door bang and her excited voice.
“En-hedu, what’s…” One look at her face silenced him.
She pushed him back into the bedroom and closed the door. Keeping her voice low, she described what she’d seen.
“These bundles… how big were they?”
En-hedu held her hands an arm’s length apart. “The blankets that Korthac’s men carried were longer, and thicker, too.”
“Mmm, not long enough for bows.” Tammuz’s eyes widened. “Swords?
Could they have carried swords?”
“Yes, I suppose… I didn’t hear anything clanking.”
Swearing under his breath, Tammuz scooped up his belt and swung it around him. From habit, En-hedu helped him fasten it, fear rising in her when she saw him loosen the knife in its sheath.
“I’m going to Eskkar’s house to warn Trella,” he said. “You stay here with Kuri.”
He slipped through the door, then out of the alehouse, moving at a run.