Bracca leaned forward and studied the crude map. “They’ll want to ford back to the western bank at least fifteen miles south of Yarmo. That way they can ride in without worrying about anyone knowing where they’ve been.” He picked up a black stone and dropped it near the mark that represented Yarmo.
“If we moved quickly,” Eskkar tapped the black stone with his knife, “we might be able to catch up with them there, when they cross over to the west bank. With luck, we could steal back our horses.”
“So you want us to run almost forty miles in two days, just so we can try to make off with our own horses? For that much effort, I want a lot more than a pair of horses. Think about how much gold they’re carrying.”
“The two of us against thirty of them?” Eskkar shook his head. “These marauders are not simple farmers waving swords during the day and bragging to their women at night. They’re experienced fighters. Don’t forget they have at least five or six warriors with them. Barbarians won’t panic if we try and steal some mounts. Even if we do manage to get away with a few animals, they’ll come after us. That’s part of the warrior code, part of their honor.”
Bracca leaned back against the tree and took a deep breath. “You’re right, they won’t panic. But will they trust each other? You’re the barbarian. How much would you trust these bandits, dirt eaters as you call them? Especially now that you’re close to ending whatever arrangement you’ve made?”
Eskkar thought about that, and followed the idea to its conclusion. “No, the warriors wouldn’t trust the bandits. The barbarians will want to ride home with all the horses they’ve collected. With so many extra horses, they’ll be able to attract wives and rise up in their clans. So the warriors wouldn’t be too concerned about the gold. But those horses would also be worth plenty of coins in the village. The rest of the raiders would know that, too.”
“Well, there you have it, friend Eskkar. Mutual distrust, plenty of greed, and no longer any reasons to keep them working together. I think we can make something out of that.”
Eskkar matched Bracca’s smile with one of his own. “Yes, I think we could. Are you up to running almost forty miles?”
“Why not?” Bracca sighed, lifted his feet, and admired his newly acquired sandals. “It’s better than toiling for months on some filthy farm, trying to save enough copper coins to buy some old nags.”
“Well, then, friend Bracca, we might as well start moving. We’ll probably end up with some barbarian arrows in our bellies.”
“We’ve faced worse odds before.”
“No, we haven’t,” Eskkar said. “But maybe we can figure out a decent plan along the way, hopefully one that doesn’t get us killed.”
Bracca gave the crude map one last look. “Then let’s get started. But keep in mind all that gold they’ll be carrying. If we can figure out a way to make off with some of that, even better. ”
Eskkar rose, and returned his knife to its scabbard. “Just the horses, friend Bracca, just the horses.”
In moments, they were on their way, running in silence. They covered the ground with a steady, loping gait. Every half-mile or so they slowed to a fast walk, the same pace they used whenever they encountered one of the numerous low hills that hindered their way. Neither Eskkar nor Bracca wanted to chance an injury running up or down a slope. A twisted ankle would end their plan, and they both knew they would need all their strength for whatever awaited them at the end of their journey.
Two days later, they lay on their stomachs and studied the pale-blue Euphrates flowing peacefully beneath the low hills, still covered in green grass and yellow flowers, that bordered the river. A narrow jetty projected into the water, and three small boats, the kind used by fishermen, were beached along the river bank. Six mud-brown huts were scattered nearby, all within a hundred paces of the jetty.
“That’s the ford, all right.” Bracca lifted his head. “I can’t see anything on the other side.”
“Well, the bandits haven’t crossed here,” Eskkar said. “No sign of that many horses coming up out of the water.”
Eskkar and Bracca now had some further information on the bandits. Yesterday they’d found the place where the raiders had forded back over to the eastern bank. By reading the signs, Eskkar estimated that about thirty mounted men, plus another twenty or twenty-five horses were in the group. A young shepherd boy they encountered had confirmed those numbers. Unnoticed by the horsemen, he’d watched the riders ford the river. Eskkar had thanked the gods that a shepherd had witnessed the bandits’ movements. Unlike most dirt eating farmers, those who herded sheep knew how to count.
“If we’re right, they’ll cross to this side of the river here, either late today or first thing in the morning,” Bracca said.
“Tonight.” Eskkar felt certain of his words. “There won’t be many places worth looting on that side of the river, not so close to Yarmo. Probably all they hit in this last raid was a few isolated farms, maybe another small village like the one where we lost our horses.”
“Then the bandits will be anxious to get back on the west bank. They can rest for the night, and ride into Yarmo in the morning. By sundown they’ll have sold all their loot. After that, they’ll split up and go their separate ways.”
“So now it all depends on the warriors,” Eskkar said. “If they decide to ride on once they cross, our plan gets a lot easier.”
“If they leave the bandits behind,” Bracca agreed, “then we’ll steal a few horses and run for it. Nobody will bother to chase after us, not with the pleasures of Yarmo nearby and calling to them.”
The two companions had considered all the possibilities they could imagine during their long run up river, and over last night’s camp. The worst case for them, but probably the most likely, would be if everyone camped together for the night. Eskkar felt certain that the warriors would have no reason to fear treachery from the bandits. Even against fifteen or twenty men, the barbarians would feel confident they could kill any and all of the dirt eaters. While probably not true, the steppes warriors would likely kill half of them before they went down.
Bracca had lifted his eyebrows when he heard that, but hadn’t challenged it. Eskkar was, after all, the expert on barbarians.
“Time to get moving again.” Eskkar pushed himself to his feet. “They’ll probably make camp against those hills north of us. We’d better get there first and see what the land is like.”
About a mile away, a wide patch of green stood out against the brown rolling hills. After the bandits crossed the river, they would want to make camp and settle in for the night before sundown. Likely they would prefer to stay as far away from Yarmo as possible.
The two companions covered the distance at the same loping pace they had used for the last two days.
“This place looks like the perfect place to camp,” Bracca said, as soon as he caught his breath. “Water, grass, even firewood. No doubt every traveler within fifty miles knows about this campsite.”
Water, probably from an underground stream that branched out from the river, had seeped to the surface and formed a pool, surrounded on two sides by willows and date palms. The horses would just fit into a corner formed by two hills, only a few paces from the water. The men would make camp between the stream and the herd. Bracca was right. No travelers, no matter how eager to get to Yarmo, would be likely to pass up such a natural encampment.
“It makes for a perfect place to spend the night, and it will be even better for us.” Eskkar eyes scanned the surroundings. “No more than two or three sentries. One up there, on top of the hill. Maybe another one over there, to guard the approach from the south.”
“We should be able to creep up on them.” Bracca sounded confident enough.
“The warriors will post their own sentry, to guard the horses, and he’ll take his position on the lower of the two hills, to be close to the herd. I don’t think either of us will be able to climb up and catch him by surprise.”