“So we grovel before this Egyptian.”
“We grovel, Annok-sur.” Out of habit, Trella reached for the coin that she’d worn around her neck since Eskkar first gave it to her. Her freedom coin, he’d called it. Now it was gone, given to another, as vanished as her freedom. “We grovel, and we wait.”
17
Ariamus had hidden his sixty-three horsemen in a tiny fold of ground, a little more than one hundred paces from the trail Bantor’s men were following back to Akkad. Ariamus had galloped his horse that far himself, and knew his horsemen could cover that distance in moments, long before his victims could dismount and string their bows. Horse to horse, his charging men on fresh mounts would have the advantage.
The low crest of the rise concealed fifty of Ariamus’s men abreast, and the remainder formed a smaller group behind the main line. He had twenty hard-bitten fi ghters scattered among them. Most of these he’d recruited himself, though Korthac had added half a dozen of his Egyptians, probably with instructions to keep an eye on their commander.
Chewing his lip, Ariamus waited for the single scout who tracked the approaching column. They’d sighted Bantor’s men hours ago, and they’d be here soon. Everything would work against the Akkadians-their horses would be tired from a long day’s ride, they would be traveling uphill, and they expected to reach Akkad’s gates and safety in a few more hours. Ariamus knew the Akkadians had shadowed the retreating Alur Meriki for over a month. That mission completed, Bantor and his soldiers were returning in high spirits to their women, plenty of ale, and a chance to sleep in their own beds. The last thing on their minds would be an ambush so close to home.
He grinned at the thought. Instead of safety, the returning soldiers would die right here, and it would be Ariamus’s men who would ride through the open gates of Akkad. Korthac had planned everything with care, Ariamus admitted, though he hated to give the man so much credit.
Ariamus and his men had done well in last night’s battle, capturing the river gate with a minimum of fighting. Just as important, he’d seized the boats docked there with no loss of cargo, and no vessels escaping up or down the Tigris. With both the river and the local roads under Korthac’s control, at least a few days would pass before the countryside learned what had taken place in Akkad. The only thing that could have gone better was if Takany had managed to get himself killed. Ariamus had craftily made sure the thickheaded Egyptian led the fight at the barracks, where the heaviest fighting would occur, but the man had survived without even a scratch.
“You did well, Ariamus,” Korthac had said afterward, grunting his approval at his newest subcommander’s efficiency. “Now take your men and destroy the Akkadians returning from the south. Then you will have your reward.”
Relishing the praise, Ariamus had bowed politely, gathered his men, and departed, as eager as Korthac to finish off the returning soldiers. He and his men camped for the night a few miles ride from the city, and Ariamus sent out scouts to look for the approaching Akkadians. A successful ambush of Bantor and his troops would ensure Korthac’s confi dence, and earn Ariamus an even bigger share of the loot waiting back in Akkad.
The moment to earn that reward had arrived. The men from Akkad marched unsuspectingly toward their fate. In a few moments, Ariamus would destroy Bantor’s soldiers, leaving no organized force to rally support against Korthac. The handful of men Eskkar had with him up at Bisitun would be no problem to defeat. Ariamus knew he could raise, recruit, and train an equal number in the week or ten days it would take for Eskkar to reach Akkad. And with any bit of luck, the barbarian would already be dead, struck down by Korthac’s assassins.
As soon as Ariamus returned to Akkad with the news of Bantor’s destruction, Korthac’s rule would be secure. The Egyptian would proclaim himself sovereign of the city, and Ariamus would stand at his side. With enough men to guard the walls, no power could force them out.
Assuming Ariamus could keep his men under control, he reminded himself. He’d readied his men for the ambush more than an hour ago.
Even after yesterday’s success in Akkad, many of the men looked nervous, and he saw fear on the faces of more than one. The sooner he got them into battle, the better. He wished he’d had a few more weeks to train them… but Korthac wouldn’t wait. News of Bantor’s approach had forced Korthac to move a little earlier than he planned. The city had to be taken the day before Bantor arrived. So far, everything had gone exactly as the wily Egyptian had planned.
Ariamus heard his men talking again, their voices quickly rising and threatening the whole plan. They kept testing his patience. Shifting their feet, they whispered to their neighbors and boasted about what they would do in the coming battle. His hand twitched at his sword, and he resisted the temptation to kill one as a lesson. Half-trained and lacking discipline they might be, but he’d worked with worse, and right now he needed all of them.
“Demons take you all,” he said. “Keep silent!”
Gritting his teeth at the fools who couldn’t keep still, he walked back and forth along the line, hand on his sword, urging them to stay ready, shut their mouths, and look to their mounts. Not that Ariamus cared how much his men twitched and worried, but he didn’t want the horses picking up their riders’ fears and getting spooked.
Two days ago he’d had to kill a slow-witted fool who disobeyed him once too often, and hopefully that memory remained fresh in their minds.
Just so long as they followed orders. Ariamus didn’t care how much they feared the enemy, as long as they feared him more.
Nevertheless, most of these bandits had little experience in attacking battle-hardened men. Fresh from Akkad’s capture, they now fancied themselves fearsome fighters. Almost all had seen some fighting, or raided enough farms and small caravans to convince themselves of their bravery, but Ariamus knew they could never stand against the Alur Meriki. Even facing the soldiers from Akkad, most of this rabble would be dead in moments. Still, Ariamus had more than enough men to do the job, and if he could surprise Bantor, the combination would guarantee victory.
The men’s talking grew louder, and Ariamus turned to see his scout trotting toward them. At least the man, one of Korthac’s subcommanders, had remembered his orders to raise no dust trail and to make sure he wasn’t seen. Ariamus turned back toward his still-mumbling men, and again put his hand on his sword. They fell silent under his glare. The sooner the attack got under way, the better.
“Well, Nebibi, are they coming?” Speaking in the language of the Egyptian, Ariamus didn’t even wait for the man to dismount.
“Yes, Ariamus. They’re but moments behind me. Their horses look weary, and they suspect nothing. All ride with bows slung.”
“You’re sure? No scouts out to the front or flanks?”
“None,” Nebibi replied. “Only a rear guard of three men. They’re trailing a good distance behind the column, but that’s all.”
Ariamus grunted in relief. If he and his men had been spotted..
Korthac had warned him not to challenge the Akkadians’ bows. If Ariamus couldn’t smash them before they could bring their bows into play, he would have to return to Akkad and get more men.
“Good work, Nebibi. Return to your men and make sure they know what to do. Try to keep the fools quiet.” Nebibi had charge of one-third of the men. Rihat, Ariamus’s other subcommander, commanded another third.
“Rihat.” Ariamus called out to his other commander, now speaking in their native tongue. “Get the men ready. They’re almost here.”