The words sounded honest and respectful, and Sargon guessed they came straight from Chinua’s heart. But Sargon couldn’t. . wouldn’t sit beside his father and pretend that all was well while these barbarians heaped praises upon Eskkar and his latest deeds. Sargon couldn’t bear such a night of endless humiliation.
“I thank you. . Chinua.” Sargon hoped he pronounced the warrior’s name properly. “But I would prefer to spend the night with the soldiers. It will be my last chance to be with my own kind.”
If either Subutai or Chinua thought Sargon’s refusal odd or disrespectful, neither let their face betray their feelings. And while Eskkar could usually control his emotions, Sargon saw a flicker of anger twitch at his mouth.
“Then you will enjoy the celebration with your own warriors.” Subutai’s words showed no resentment. “There will be many more meals for us to share in the future.”
Subutai rose to his feet, and Chinua followed. “We will return to our camp. The meat should be well cooked by now, Eskkar, so come as soon as you can.”
The two clan chiefs strode off, leaving father and son together.
“You insulted Subutai by not joining him at the feast.”
Sargon heard the rebuke in his father’s voice. Sargon, his fists clenched, felt his lips tremble. “They are your friends, not mine. When you are gone, I will have to live with all of them, sharing a tent with four or five others, all of them stinking of horse sweat.”
“This is the path you have chosen. So be it.” Eskkar stood and stared down at his son. “Before we left Akkad, your mother told me not to weaken in my resolve. She said I would be tempted to change my mind and bring you back to the city, to give you one more chance. I was proud when you answered Subutai with the proper respect. But your mother was right. I see your heart is still blind with anger. You will have to rise above it, if you ever wish to return home.”
“I have no home. I have no father or mother. You are both dead to me. And even if I survive this fate, I will never return to Akkad. Tell that to your wife.”
Sargon rose and stalked away in the growing darkness, leaving his father standing there. Sargon would eat by himself tonight, though surrounded by the soldiers of Akkad. But in the morning, Eskkar and his men would be gone, and Sargon realized that, for the first time in his life, he would truly be alone.
The next day, just after midmorning, Sargon stood by himself in the remains of the Akkadian camp. The soldiers had gathered their weapons and collected their horses. With nothing more to do, they waited impatiently for the command to depart, all of them no doubt eager to return to Akkad.
Sargon paced back and forth, his hands limp at his sides. His father had spent most of the morning first making sure the men had readied themselves for the departure, then galloping to the Ur Nammu camp for one last talk with Subutai. Whether by chance or on purpose, Eskkar returned just as Draelin finished his final inspection. With the Akkadians standing by their horses, Eskkar had little time to spend with his son.
Their parting was as impersonal as it was brief — neither had anything else to say to the other. Sargon took some small consolation that at least his father would never torment him again.
“Mount your horse, Sargon, and ride with me to the camp.”
His father’s voice sounded hoarse, probably from drinking too much wine. The talking and singing had continued long into the night, and this morning more than a few soldiers had sore heads. Sargon had fallen asleep before his father returned.
Sargon’s horse awaited, and the soldier attending it gave him a friendly smile as he handed over the halter.
“I’ve already given Chinua a sack containing your sword and knife.” Eskkar brusque words sounded cold and distant. “And there are some things your mother wanted you to have.”
Sargon didn’t answer. He swung onto the horse and grudgingly guided his mount beside his father.
“Is there anything you want to say? Any message for your mother?”
“No.” Sargon hadn’t wanted to speak at all, but that single word escaped his lips. Let his parents suffer the tiniest pain for what they’d done to him.
Swearing under his breath, Eskkar touched his heels to his horse, and cantered over to the Ur Nammu camp. The Ur Nammu warriors had already returned to their usual routine. A small crowd of mostly women and children stood around in scattered groups, to watch the men from Akkad depart.
Sargon followed his father, though at a slower pace. He saw no need to rush. Eskkar reached the outskirts of the camp where Chinua stood, and then waited, his jaw clenched, until Sargon guided his horse to a stop facing them.
“Sargon, try to remember what I’ve taught you. Chinua will take good care of you.” For a moment, Eskkar hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more.
But his father had nothing else to add to his goodbye. Sargon watched as Eskkar wheeled his horse around and headed out. Draelin already had the Akkadians on the move, and his father put his horse to a fast canter to catch up. A few soldiers glanced back toward Sargon, but not his father.
“Sargon, come walk with me,” Chinua said. “My sons will tend to your horse.”
Sargon dismounted. Chinua took the horse’s halter and called out something in his own tongue. A young warrior, perhaps a few seasons older than Sargon, jogged over and accepted the horse.
Chinua led the way back toward the circle of stones where they had spoken last night. A handful of young boys had already reclaimed the place, but Chinua ordered them away with a wave of his arm. He settled himself on the same slab Eskkar had taken yesterday.
“Sit.”
The single word carried the man’s authority in a way no command of Sargon’s father ever had. Sargon eased himself down facing the warrior and studied his new master.
Chinua appeared far too young to be third in command over all these warriors. If he had indeed fought at the battle of Isin at sixteen, he could not even have reached twenty-five seasons.
“Your father has told only myself and Subutai that you do not understand the warrior’s code, that you lack the honor and respect a son should display toward his mother and father. That secret will remain between us.”
Chinua kept his eyes fixed on Sargon. “As far as my sons and the other warriors will know, you are here only to learn the ways of the warrior. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Many young men your age already ride with our fighters. Some have even fought against our enemies. The others work the horses, help around the camp, and make themselves useful. They are also given the chance to improve their own skills with sword, bow, and lance. Even more important, they must train their horses and learn to ride well. After a year or two of accompanying our men, or whenever Subutai thinks they are ready, these young men are accepted as warriors. Only then can they take a wife, and take part in the life of the Clan.”
No words seemed to be called for, so Sargon merely nodded.
“Despite your age, you are not ready to ride with the warriors. No young man is permitted to ride with the warriors unless he is trained and prepared to fight in support of his kin and his clan. So, Sargon, first you must prove you can handle a horse. Then you must learn to use your weapons, the ones you choose to fight with, sword, lance, or bow. If a warrior cannot master the bow from horseback, he will pick the lance or sword as his main weapon.”
“I can use both a sword and a bow,” Sargon said.
“Perhaps.” Chinua rubbed his chin for a moment. “You know your father never mastered the use of the bow. He told me that he left the Clan when he was too young, before he could master that skill. Though I believe he would have been too tall. I’ve seen Eskkar fight. A sword fits his hand very well.”