In Eskkar’s rise to power, many of the old ways had fallen aside and many new customs created. After one of his earliest battles, Eskkar established a new kind of clan, a clan not of blood or place, but one of fighting brotherhood. Since then, every Hawk Clan member had sworn an oath of loyalty first to Eskkar and then to each other.
In the subsequent fighting against the barbarians, the Hawk Clan grew in number, though many died in the final assault. Only those who had proven themselves in battle could be nominated for entrance to the Hawk Clan. If accepted, their past, their homeland, their old clan did not matter.
Now men from the corners of the earth, many once homeless and friend-less, had a clan of their own, a new family, where all stood equal in honor.
The Hawk symbol grew into a mark of valor and prestige, and any soldier worthy of his sword hungered to wear the Hawk emblem. Though they numbered less than thirty, these elite soldiers formed the backbone of Eskkar’s subcommanders and bodyguards, the core of fighting men who supported Eskkar’s power.
Each Hawk Clan member wore the emblem proudly on his left shoulder, so that all could see the mark of bravery and distinction. Any of Eskkar’s soldiers would jump at the chance to demonstrate his courage and worth, and how better to do it than to fight at Eskkar’s side. Five of the ten soldiers who stayed with Eskkar belonged to the Hawk Clan. The others hoped to earn that honor in any upcoming battle.
Without any way to know if the village remained under the bandits’ scrutiny, Eskkar ordered the men back from the fields early. He didn’t want the bandits riding in while his few soldiers were scattered in the fields, or heading back to the village, to be killed or captured by ones and twos. Besides, his men would need some time to rest, to prepare their weapons, and take their stations. Eskkar hoped that the bandits, if they were watching, wouldn’t think the early return of any significance.
Hamati, the only other senior man in the group, walked to his captain’s side. Hamati had stopped only long enough to take a deep drink of water at the well and to wash the mud and muck from his hands and face.
“Marduk’s curses on these farmers, Captain, and their filthy way of life. I haven’t worked so hard in years.”
Legend told that Marduk, ruler of the heavens and father of the gods, had created the first farmer from river mud to till the soil. Farmers asked his blessing for their crops, even while they swore at him for making farming such a difficult labor.
“You’re soft from too much easy living, Hamati,” Eskkar said with a laugh. “Not even a full day in the fields and you’re complaining. Be grateful you don’t have to do it each day. Did the women give you any trouble?”
“No, but they kept looking over their shoulders toward the hills. Half of them wanted to run back to the village and the other half wanted to hide in the fields or along the river.”
A few nervous women wouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicions. After what Dilgarth had been through, it would be natural enough for them to keep their eyes out for bandits and robbers. “Make sure your men are fed and ready, Hamati. If I were the bandits, I’d be here an hour or two before sunset. That will give them enough time before dark to gather what they need and be gone.”
Or they might not come at all. Eskkar worried they could already be far away, or be planning to come back in a few days or a week’s time. He had tried to put himself in their place and hoped they would do what he would have done. If he were wrong, if they had moved on.. three days out of Akkad, and he’d look like a fool in front of his men, outsmarted by a few lazy bandits. He resolutely put the thought away. The afternoon sun promised several more hours of daylight. If they didn’t come today, his horsemen would be back tonight, and he could ride out and search for them tomorrow.
If Hamati had any doubts of his own, he didn’t voice them. Instead, he moved off to see to the other soldiers.
Eskkar turned to find Nisaba standing before him. She, like Hamati, was covered with dirt from the fields. The women had rebuilt an irrigation ditch a few hundred paces from the village. Even in the best of times, ditches needed constant repair as they channeled the life-giving water to the growing crops. “What do you need, elder?”
“Nothing, noble. I have already offered prayers for your success in battle. Kill all of them, noble. Avenge my sons.”
Eskkar smiled at her. “Take the bravest women and keep them at work just beyond the village entrance, elder. The bandits might think it strange if they see no one outside the village. At the first sign of trouble, return to this house and bar the door.”
As soon as the meaningless words left his lips, he wanted to recall them. If he and his men failed, a wooden stick across a door wouldn’t stop any bandit.
She bowed and left him. He strode quickly through the tiny square, making sure the men stood ready and that everyone understood the plan.
That earned him a disapproving look from Hamati, who had just performed the same rite. Nevertheless Eskkar wanted to take no chances, and his concern showed each man how important their orders were.
In his successes against the Alur Meriki, Eskkar had learned no detail was too small to leave to chance, just as no order was too simple, but that some fool would forget it in the excitement of battle. Only when he felt sure everyone was ready and in place did he go to his own station near the main entrance. He’d assigned the best archers to Hamati. While Eskkar could shoot a fair shaft, he’d never managed to match the rapid-fire pace of his best trained men. Better to help hold the entryway, where his sword might prove useful.
Once a crude gate had stood there, more to keep tame animals in and wild creatures out at night, but the bandits wanted nothing to impede a quick entrance or exit from the village. So they knocked it down and used it as firewood.
After a few moments standing about, Eskkar realized he didn’t have the patience to just wait there, where he couldn’t see much of anything.
Swearing under his breath, he returned to the elder’s house, entered, and climbed the wooden ladder to the roof.
Mitrac, the youngest of Eskkar’s archers, glanced up at his captain’s arrival. The youth reclined on his elbow, studying the approaches to the village, a blanket under him and his bow and two quivers of arrows close at hand. A long dagger, almost as long as the short swords the soldiers carried, rested on the blanket. His powerful bow stretched a foot taller than any that the soldiers carried, and Mitrac’s arrows were not only three inches longer, but slightly thicker-all marked with a red streak near the feathered end.
The boy’s face looked even younger than his seasons, and Eskkar had to remind himself that no one who killed an enemy in battle could be considered a boy, let alone someone who had killed as many as Mitrac.
“Is something wrong, Captain?” Mitrac said, surprised at Eskkar’s unexpected visit. “I thought you would be at the gate.”
Eskkar sat down at the roof ’s edge. “No, Mitrac, I just want to see what’s happening, and I could see nothing from the gate.” Looking out over the fl imsy palisade, Eskkar saw a half-dozen women working on one of the closest irrigation channels. Part of the embankment had collapsed, either of its own accord, or because some bandits had ridden their horses through the soft sides.
Three women stood in the ditch, in brown water reaching their knees, as they scooped the mud from the channel back onto the embankment.
Only one had a shovel. The others used clay shards or even their hands to pick up the mud and pack it into place. As Eskkar watched, Nisaba came into view and stood at the edge of the ditch. She would be trying to reassure the women and keep them at their task. The village had to appear as normal as possible to the returning bandits.