“I accept no challenge from unweaned loud talkers.” Eskkar remained relaxed on A-tuku.
“Then you refuse to face me? The leader of Akkad has grown old and soft, afraid to fight.”
“What else does Thutmose-sin wish to say?” Eskkar ignored the angry warrior and let disdain show in his voice. “Or does the Great Chief of the Alur Meriki have no control over his men? Does he not honor the truce of his own calling?”
“Enough talk, Bar’rack.” Thutmose-sin ordered. “Return to my side.” He waited until the warrior backed his horse into position. “If you will not take our horses or our gold, then it will be war to the death.”
“If you fight, my men will take the gold from your warriors’ bodies.” Eskkar let the force of his voice show for the first time. “And there will be many riderless horses to be collected.”
“Then it will be war,” Thutmose-sin repeated. “I will see you on the battlefield.”
The Sarum jerked the head of his horse around, and set his mount to a canter. Bekka also turned away, but Bar’rack paused to spit on the ground. “The next time we meet, Eskkar, you will die.” He whirled his mount around with such force that it reared up for a moment, before its front hooves crashed to the earth once more, then burst into a gallop.
Eskkar watched the warriors depart. “Now they’re committed. They have to fight.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Hathor glanced around. “I don’t like being exposed like this.” He guided his horse back toward the west.
Back across the stream, Eskkar and his commanders prepared their men. At any moment the barbarians could ride over the crest and launch an attack. The Akkadians stood close to their weapons and assigned positions.
The easy talk and occasional laughter died out. Everyone now understood they faced a fight to the death. But as the afternoon lengthened and no attack materialized, Eskkar turned to Alexar.
“Either they don’t have enough warriors yet, or they’re coming tonight.”
“They’ve had plenty of time to gather their men,” Alexar said. “And they’ve got to be running low on water. They’ll come tonight, or at first light.”
Eskkar swore. “Damn them, I thought they’d attack today. Now we’ll have to keep the men alert all night.”
“They’ve had a day to rest,” Alexar said, unperturbed at the prospect of an all night vigil for his soldiers. “Every other man will keep watch during half the night, while the others get what sleep they can. If barbarians come, we’ll be ready.”
“Shappa!” Eskkar’s voice soon brought the leader of the slingers trotting toward his commander.
“Yes, Captain?”
“The barbarians may attack tonight. Prepare a force of skirmishers to cross the stream after dark. I want to make sure we know when and where the enemy is coming.”
The slingers, mostly young men and boys, and all too small to make a good spearman or archer, had proven themselves in the war with Sumer. Since those days, they had learned to take on many roles, and one of the most important was that of scouting out enemy positions and intentions. Their small stature made them difficult to see in the dark, and they could creep through the night with hardly a sound.
Their slings made almost no noise, and they prided themselves on their skill with the long, curved knives they carried. Those sharp blades could hamstring a horse and send it crashing to the earth. Every one of Shappa’s men carried twenty perfectly round bullets made of bronze in their pouches, and the slingers could launch their missiles fast enough to keep pace with any archer.
“I’ll send out sixty men.” Expecting the order, Shappa had already made his preparations. “I’ll spread them out in a curve just over the stream. And I’ll have those with the sharpest eyes on the cliff. From up there, they may have enough moonlight to see men moving.”
Eskkar nodded. “Barbarians don’t like fighting at night and they hate leaving their horses behind. They won’t be skilled at moving through the darkness.”
“You don’t think they’ll try and cross the stream on horseback?” Alexar didn’t sound so certain.
“No, not at night. The horses would balk and whinny and make too much noise. The barbarians will come on foot if they come tonight.”
“Let’s hope your luck holds, and they come tonight.” Alexar sounded relieved. “If they find another source of water, they might just decide to starve us out.”
9
The silvery stream glistened in the faint moonlight, its gurgling passage a soothing murmur of endless repetitions as it flowed along the boundary of the Akkadian camp. To Shappa, however, the sound was only another distraction. His men were out there, on the enemy side of the stream, while he remained safe, surrounded by the Akkadian host.
Crouched down in the dark, Shappa swore at the responsibility of command. He wanted to be with his men, crawling around on the rocky ground, listening for the slight sounds of the enemy moving toward them. Instead, as commander of Akkad’s slingers, Shappa had to send others out to risk their lives, when he, with all his heart, wanted to be at their side.
If he had told Eskkar that he wanted to join his skirmishers across the stream, Eskkar would probably have let him go. Afterward, assuming Shappa survived, the King would have selected someone else to take command of the slingers.
Foolish courage, as Eskkar often reminded everyone, did not always win battles. A commander had a higher responsibility to his men, all his men. That responsibility demanded that Shappa stay behind, where he was most needed and could do the most good.
Tonight Shappa’s main duty was not to fight, but to get the reports of his scouts, assess the information, and relay his conclusions to Eskkar and the other commanders. Not to mention Shappa might have to dispatch more slingers if necessary.
Still, he was eager to fight. He wanted to prove to all of Akkad, once and for all, the value of his men. In their hands, the sling became a powerful weapon, especially at close range. But in the last five years, he’d trained them to move through the darkness without a sound, and to strike and withdraw unseen.
Now those skills would be put to the test. The duty of his skirmishers was to first gather information, then disrupt and harry the enemy’s forces until the more powerful fighting units of Akkad could be brought into play. In the blackness of night, Shappa’s slingers would be even more effective.
These Alur Meriki warriors might be fearsome fighters on a horse, but Shappa doubted they would do as well at night and on foot.
Shappa had learned all the skills of a night hunter at an early age. He’d grown up on a farm just a day’s journey from Akkad. As the youngest son in a family of six, he seldom got enough to eat, and soon became skilled at hunting for food among the night creatures, if he wanted to eat well. Rabbits, rodents, small game, birds, even a young deer, anything that moved after the sun went down soon fell victim to his expert sling.
Tonight Shappa envied his companions, most of them with less than sixteen seasons, who now risked their lives facing the hardy and ferocious barbarians. They might be afraid deep inside, but the bravado of youth easily overcame that, and he felt confident they could handle themselves.
A glance into the night sky showed the waxing moon still rising. Its dim light marked the dark hulk of the cliff to the north. Shappa had positioned men with the keenest night vision on the massive stone towers that rose up over the stream. He had to stay in contact with those above, making sure that news of any enemy movement they spotted reached the King’s ears.
Nevertheless, Shappa grimaced in frustration, as he touched the leather sling at his belt. It was going to be a long night.
In the Alur Meriki encampment, Thutmose-sin sat beside a small fire. Its low flames did nothing to warm the small circle of clan leaders gathered around it. Only a handful of glowing fires marked his warriors’ camp. Wood and anything else that would burn was scarce in these foothills, and the few clumps of horse dung dry enough to burn had already gone up in smoke. His guards had done well to collect even these few twigs to light their Sarum’s meeting.