“That’s Thutmose-sin, all right. And carrying a lance.”
Mitrac stepped to the King’s side, his great bow already strung, waiting for the order to shoot. “He’s almost in range.”
Eskkar shook his head. He felt curious at the rider’s steady pace toward the Akkadians as did the rest of his men. All had climbed to their feet, shifting positions and shading their eyes against the rising sun, wondering if this portended another attack.
Thutmose-sin reached the place where the chiefs and Eskkar had met yesterday, but he kept riding toward them.
“He’s in long range now, Captain,” Mitrac said. “I can have twenty archers ready to shoot. One of us will bring him down.”
“No.” This time Eskkar used his command voice, the tone that brooked no argument. “Tell your men to hold their arrows.”
A hundred and fifty paces from the stream, Thutmose-sin halted his horse. He hefted the lance over his shoulder, then threw it in a high arc toward the Akkadians. The slim missile dug into the earth about seventy or eighty paces short of the stream. Then the stallion reared up on its hind legs, thrusting its front hooves at the Akkadians before crashing down to the earth.
“I am Thutmose-sin, Sarum of the Alur Meriki.” The powerful voice, full of authority, rolled across the stream and echoed off the cliff. “I come to challenge Eskkar of Akkad to fight me to the death. If he is not afraid, let him come forth and face me with a sword in his hand.”
“By the gods,” Hathor muttered. “Is he mad?”
“No, not mad.” Eskkar understood what must have happened. “He’s ready to die. By now his warriors have abandoned him. He led them to defeat, and he cannot rule them any longer.”
“Then let’s kill him now,” Hathor said. “Mitrac’s archers can finish him off. One volley will do it.”
Eskkar considered it. He had nothing to gain by accepting Thutmose-sin’s challenge. And the warrior was offering nothing for victory or defeat. The time for that had passed. Only a warrior’s honor remained.
“You’re not thinking of riding out there.” Alexar, too, had wakened from a brief sleep and joined the other commanders. “If he’s desperate enough to throw his life away, let Mitrac’s archers finish him.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Movement on the hilltop caught Eskkar’s eye, and he saw warriors filling up the crest of the hill.
“Look!” Alexar pointed toward the hill. “They’re getting ready to attack again.”
But the distant warriors made no hostile moves. No bows or lances waved in the air, no shouts of bravado.
“They know he’s a dead man,’ Eskkar said, “but Thutmose-sin is carrying what’s left of their honor.”
By now warriors covered the hilltop, some on horseback, but most on foot. Not as many as yesterday, but probably every warrior who could walk or drag himself onto the back of a horse was up there, waiting to see how Thutmose-sin would be treated.
Eskkar made up his mind. He couldn’t let this challenge to his honor go unmet. Besides, if he ordered Thutmose-sin shot down like a wild dog, the barbarians would fight to the death, and many more Akkadians would die. Perhaps there might be another way.
“No one is to shoot at that man. No one, do you hear?” Eskkar made eye contact with each of commanders, to be sure everyone understood his words. “Hathor, send for my horse. I’m going to meet him.”
“Are you as mad as he?” Hathor demanded. “There’s no reason. .”
“Yes, there is, and maybe a good one. This is about more than honor. Do as I ask.”
Eskkar slung his sword over his shoulder. One of the soldiers had cleaned it after last night’s fighting, but Eskkar checked to make sure the blade drew easily. Another soldier ran up to him, leading A-tuku.
Eskkar checked the halter himself, making sure the rope was firmly in place, but without undue stress on the animal’s head. He patted the stallion on his neck, and let the horse nuzzle his face. His life might depend on his mount in a few moments. Satisfied, Eskkar swung himself onto the horse’s back and let it paw the ground as it adjusted to its master’s weight.
“Give me a lance,” Eskkar ordered. “And no matter what happens, do not kill Thutmose-sin. His warriors will fight to death if he dies in dishonor. Even if he kills me, his own warriors will finish him.”
Before Eskkar could get the horse in motion, the leader of his Hawk Clan bodyguards, Chandor, stepped forward and grabbed the halter. “My Lord, I cannot let you do this. Let me ride out and kill this man for you.”
Another of Eskkar’s personal guard, a grizzled veteran named Pekka, grasped the other side of the halter. “My Lord, Lady Trella ordered us to stop you from taking risks like this. She insisted. .”
Eskkar’s face hardened, and he stared at the man. The soldier blanched at the force of Eskkar’s determination.
“Please, My Lord, I meant no offense.” Pekka shrank back and released the halter.
Even here, hundreds of miles from Akkad and in the middle of a battle, his wife exerted her influence and his men showed their respect for her wishes. “Stand aside, both of you. This is not some foolish challenge. I need to do this, and only I know what must be done.”
He spoke the words with force, in a tone that few dared to resist or argue against. Before either of them could think about what to do, Eskkar touched his heels to his mount, and the powerful animal moved forward. Chandor’s hands slipped from the halter, as he lowered his head.
“Alexar! Mitrac! Hathor! Make sure everyone obeys my command.” Eskkar called the order over his shoulder. “No one is to leave the ranks.”
Without waiting for an acknowledgment, Eskkar paced his way down toward the stream, taking his time. This was dangerous and he wanted time to think. Thutmose-sin had nothing to lose. For him, victory or death were the same. Not that the warrior expected to survive. Even if he killed Eskkar, Thutmose-sin must know that the Akkadian bowmen would cut him down. All he wanted was one last chance for revenge, and to die with honor.
Again Eskkar halted the bay in the middle of the stream, letting A-tuku slurp a few noisy mouthfuls before pulling up on the halter. He allowed the horse to choose its path across the stream and a few paces beyond. Then Eskkar hefted the lance in his right hand, leaned back, and hurled it toward the Alur Meriki lance jutting into the air. Eskkar’s missile landed just beside that of Thutmose-sin, a good throw. The challenge had been made and now accepted.
Once again, Eskkar touched his heels to his horse, and let the animal pick its way through the rocks. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, the dead lying face down, many with arrows in their back. Others stared sightlessly into the sky, arrows protruding from their wounds, blood trails and pools marking the ground. Flies buzzed low over the bodies, and carrion birds swooped down from the sky.
Step by step, Eskkar moved forward. He reached the place where the lances had dug themselves into the earth and halted. Thutmose-sin now paced his horse forward, giving Eskkar time to study both man and animal.
Thutmose-sin was a dangerous fighter. Eskkar knew that from personal experience. But Eskkar had practiced much since that night battle at the fire wagons outside of Orak, and his skills had increased. Both men were much the same age, so that wouldn’t matter.
After last night’s fight, Thutmose-sin would be more weary than Eskkar, and while his wounds might be minor, they, too, would weaken him. No, the approaching rider might be a deadly opponent, but the big gray stallion warranted as much concern as its master.
No matter how much time Eskkar had spent training A-tuku, Thutmose-sin’s horse had seen many more fights. A huge brute, it stood at least a hand and half taller than A-tuku. It would respond to its master’s slightest touch.
Eskkar’s mount looked sleepy and slow compared to the gray. But A-tuku’s appearance was deceiving. The bay, too, would respond to Eskkar’s commands, and no other horse in Hathor’s cavalry, no matter what its size, had stood against it.