The name of the Hawk Clan had not been spoken aloud in many years, and in truth, probably most of the young warriors had never heard of it until after this morning’s battle. Nevertheless, many of the older men would have heard rumors and stories about the outcast boy who had grown into a leader of the dirt eaters.
For the first time, they saw Eskkar face to face, wearing his gleaming bronze breastplate, long sword jutting from his shoulder, and the cloak flowing easily down his back. Seeing him stand before them, not one doubted his role as a leader of fighters and a leader of men. And if there were any doubt as to his prowess, the deaths of Thutmose-sin and Bar’rack had ended those forever.
Eskkar shifted the horse and moved slowly down the line. “My clan leader was Jamal, and my father, Hogarthak, served him faithfully. The father of Thutmose-sin, Maskim-Xul, and his son, Seluku, killed Jamal by treachery. My father honored his oath to Jamal and fought to save his clan leader. My father Hogarthak slew Seluku before he died.”
Watching their faces, Eskkar knew that he’d caught the interest of more than a few warriors. Even those with hatred on their faces put that aside for the moment.
“For doing his duty, Maskim-Xul ordered my family slain. My mother, my brother, and my sister died that night. That night, I, too, killed my first man, the warrior who slew my younger brother.”
Once again Eskkar paced his horse closer to the warriors, moving further down the line. He wanted as many warriors as possible to see him close up. As he paced A-tuku along, his eyes sought the faces of the men in front of him. Most were stoic, a few twisted with hate, but now many more showed interest. This story, he knew, would have been told only in whispers.
“I took my father’s horse and fled the Clan, while Maskim-Xul sent warriors to hunt me down. But I escaped his reach, and I swore that someday those who murdered my father and my family would pay that debt with their blood.”
Turning A-tuku around, Eskkar trotted back past the center of the line. He wanted every warrior to see and hear his words.
“Today I have taken my vengeance. Thutmose-sin died at my hands in payment for the life of Hogarthak, my father. My blood oath is satisfied. The women and children of the Alur Meriki have nothing to fear from my soldiers. We will stand aside and let your wagons pass, to drink from the stream in peace. But first, I want to speak to those warriors who once belonged to the Hawk Clan. Those men may think that our Clan died that night with Jamal, but I have kept it alive.”
He swept his arm up and pointed to his two guards, sitting stoically on their horses just behind Hathor. “The Hawk Clan has been reborn in the land of Akkad. See the emblem on my chest, and on the clothing of my guards. Once again the Hawk Clan boasts the bravest of the brave. They are the fiercest warriors among my soldiers and lead the way in every battle. I am called the King of Akkad, but the name I hold most proud is Leader of the Hawk Clan.”
By now the warriors glanced about, looking at each other, wondering about Eskkar’s words. Even the faces once twisted with hatred had softened, curious in spite of themselves.
“I know that after Jamal’s death, his Hawk Clan warriors were scattered in disgrace among the other clans. Today, I ask those that wish to return to their true Clan to join me. Your women, your wagons, your horses and possessions, all will find a place of honor in my service. The people of Akkad have many enemies, and I need brave warriors both for battle and to teach the villagers how to ride and how to fight. For accepting that duty, you will be treated with honor for the rest of your days, and your sons will once again ride into battle under the Hawk Clan banner.”
By now murmurs arose from the ranks, as warriors turned to those beside them, some asking questions, others answering. Heads swiveled to and fro. Eskkar sat motionless, waiting, while the warriors absorbed the impact of his words. As Trella reminded him, there is a time to speak, and a time to let others speak.
His eyes searched the warriors’ faces, but no one moved. The Hawk Clan of Eskkar’s youth had been one of the smallest, and over the years many warriors would have fallen in battle or resigned themselves to their fate. Still, there must be one or two who felt the rancor about the treatment of the Hawk Clan. Just as he was about to give up hope, a voice called out.
“I will join Eskkar of the Hawk Clan!” An older warrior, a bloody bandage on his right arm attesting to his courage, stepped his horse from the rear ranks, pushing his way through the lines until he stood in the open space facing Eskkar.
“I am Mutaka, once a member of Jamal’s Hawk Clan, and a friend to Hogarthak, a wise warrior who died bravely defending our clan leader. Now I return to my true clan, if Eskkar will accept my sword in his service.”
Eskkar allowed himself a grunt of satisfaction. He guided his horse closer to that of Mutaka, stopping close enough so that their left knees almost touched. Eskkar stared into the face of Mutaka for a moment.
“I remember Mutaka of the Hawk Clan, who visited the wagon of my father many times. Though the Mutaka I remember had much more hair on his head.”
A faint ripple of laughter spread across the ranks.
“I remember the oldest son of Hogarthak,” Mutaka replied. “Then you were but a boastful boy who trusted too much to his fighting skills and not enough to his wits.” He lifted his arm to encompass all warriors on the hill. “We see that you have not changed much.”
This time the laughter flowed freely, and many riders shifted on their mounts at the exchange. Eskkar allowed himself a smile. One warrior, that was all he’d hoped for. One would be enough.
“Then I welcome Mutaka and the wisdom of his years to my service,” Eskkar said.
Another warrior weaved his way through the crowd, then another. Soon five veterans, all of them mature in years, had left the mass of Alur Meriki horsemen to cluster at Eskkar’s side. He welcomed each of them in turn, learning their names, and clasping arms in the sign of brotherhood.
Well satisfied, Eskkar returned to where Urgo waited. “I will accept these five warriors into the Hawk Clan. They will help form a bond between our peoples.”
The three clan leaders had listened to Eskkar’s exhortation in silence. There was, after all, little they could say or do.
Urgo, Bekka, and Suijan turned to face the crowded hillside. Each held up both their hands, palms outward, and swore the oath of friendship to Akkad. When the leaders finished, Urgo called on every warrior with honor to repeat the pledge. Every warrior raised his open hands and repeated the oath. When the voices faded away, Eskkar nodded in satisfaction.
“Urgo, Sarum of the Alur Meriki, from this moment there is peace between the people of Akkad and the Great Clan. Now I will return to my men. We will break camp, and move away from the stream.”
Turning toward Mutaka, Eskkar raised his voice. “Members of the Hawk Clan, I welcome your return.”
He lowered his voice, so that only the three chiefs could hear Eskkar’s next words. “I think we should all do everything we can to avoid any fighting between your warriors and mine.”
“You are indeed wise,” Urgo said. “And I see you know the ways of power.”
“As do you, Urgo. Will you make sure that Mutaka and the others leave in peace, with all their belongings. When they are ready to depart, send them to me.”
“I will see to it,” Urgo said. “It is not every day that a new clan is born. Or should I say, reborn.”
“Then today is indeed a good day,” Eskkar answered.
He nodded to Hathor, and the Akkadians turned their horses aside and headed back to the stream and their camp.
Hathor moved to Eskkar’s side. “Captain, you are either the luckiest person alive or a damn fool. I’m still waiting for an arrow in the back.”