From the standard waving in the breeze just outside the entrance, Hathor guessed that the same structure had previously been used by the Elamites as their headquarters. Soon Akkadian patrols were riding out in every direction. Other parties went out to round up the horses left behind by the fleeing men.
By the time Naxos returned, Hathor had the horses grazing, the captured food and grain distributed, and the men cleaning their weapons and seeing to their mounts. Three prisoners, their hands bound behind their backs, knelt in the dirt outside the farm house.
Hathor shook his head as Naxos dismounted, but Hathor couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “How was the hunting?”
Naxos laughed. “I only killed three. One of them actually attacked me.”
“Only three? I thought you would have at least ten to your credit.”
Naxos glanced around sheepishly. A long table, brought outside from the house, had two Elamite maps spread over its surface. Subcommanders stood beside it, setting up the night camp and issuing any needed instructions. “Good thing I’ve got you to look after things,” Naxos said.
“Just try not to get yourself killed chasing after helpless fools.”
“No need to worry about that.” Naxos clapped his hand on Hathor’s shoulder. “These men are poor fighters. If the rest of the Elamites are as bad, we’ll have no trouble beating them.”
After the fight outside Sumer’s walls, and the reports of his men, Hathor had much the same opinion. But men caught by surprise were one thing. The Elamites might prove tough enough in a real battle.
Both men took the time to wash up, and wolf down some captured food. Afterward, Hathor made the rounds of the camp. Tonight, however, Naxos joined him. Hathor did most of the talking with the men, but he noticed right away the difference Naxos’s presence made, especially to his own soldiers.
“The men were glad to see you,” Hathor remarked, as they returned to the command post at the farmhouse.
“It’s not something easy for me,” Naxos said. “Talking to the men, encouraging them, asking about their needs. I see how it affects them, but. . I’m always afraid I’m going to say something stupid.”
“It is difficult,” Hathor agreed. “For me also. But it’s something I learned from Eskkar.”
“Him again. The great Eskkar.”
The two men stepped through the doorway. For a moment, they had the place to themselves. Hathor unbuckled his sword and leaned it against the wall.
“Do you remember Gatus? The man who helped train so many of Akkad’s men?”
Naxos nodded. “I met him once, long ago, when he was just a member of the guard. But everyone knows how he trained the archers to fight on Akkad’s walls.”
“He told me a story about Eskkar, how in the beginning, Eskkar seldom spoke more than a handful of words in a month. Eskkar, too, had trouble speaking to the villagers and soldiers. Even the thought of speaking to a group of villagers terrified him. Eskkar had to force himself, and hated every moment.”
“Really? Eskkar always seems to know what to say. He spoke easily enough when the two of us met outside Isin’s walls.”
“Ah, I missed that meeting. I didn’t arrive at Isin until the next day, right before the battle.”
“I know now why he sent word for me to come out from my city,” Naxos said. “Eskkar could have shouted his threats from outside the city’s walls, or sent messengers to carry his words. Later I realized he didn’t want to embarrass me before everyone in Isin. Part of me wanted to kill him just for that. But his words rang true. After the destruction of Larsa, I couldn’t take the chance he would do the same to Isin.”
“Gatus told me that most people, in the beginning, thought Eskkar too ignorant to speak, much less lead the city. And when Eskkar and Trella started working together, everyone thought she was a witch who summoned a fiend from the pits below to take over his mind and put words on his lips.”
Naxos laughed. “I never heard that. But I can believe it.”
“It’s more than a little true. Trella helped him, of course. She encouraged him to talk with at least a few of the men every day. In time, Eskkar got better at it. Perhaps like sword fighting, the more you practice, the more skillful you get.”
“I take your point, Hathor.” Naxos unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it on the flimsy table. “If you don’t mind, I’ll join you again for tomorrow’s morning rounds.” He took a deep breath, and stretched out his arms. “Perhaps by the time we get done with this campaign, I’ll be as good a talker as Eskkar.”
Chapter 25
The morning after the raid by Naxos and Hathor at Sumer, Eskkar rode out of Akkad just after dawn, with the feel of rain on his face. A glance at the thick clouds above warned him to expect more of the same during the day, which meant a slower pace for the horses. Rain had fallen on the city for the last three days, and Eskkar had remained within the city, hoping that the weather would clear.
When the rain persisted, Trella had ordered the priests in Ishtar’s temple to pray for fair weather. Nonetheless the useless priests or indifferent gods had refused to stop the storm showers. At last Eskkar could delay his departure no longer. Akkad and its King rode to war, and now more than ever, Eskkar had to share the discomforts of the trail with his men.
Drakis, riding at Eskkar’s side, ignored the light drizzle. His always cheerful voice floated over the already cursing men who followed behind their leaders. Before they’d gone a mile, mud had splattered every horseman. “Another beautiful day for a ride, you lazy sons of whores! A little rain will toughen you up.”
Eskkar smiled at his commander’s words. Forty of the toughest horsemen in Akkad provided security for the King of Akkad.
A ragged chorus of groans greeted Drakis, as he picked up the pace. Nothing bothered the man. The more conditions worsened, the more upbeat his words would become. The man had, after all, survived enough deadly wounds to bury a handful of soldiers. Some of his men called him The Invincible for just that reason.
Eskkar reached into his pouch and removed a hunk of bread. Better to eat it now, before it grew too soggy and fell apart. The rain, which had thankfully slowed to an occasional sprinkle, didn’t appear to affect the men. Eskkar, however, felt the stiffness in his old wounds. In the last few years, bad weather made his leg ache painfully, the same injury that had nearly killed him when he first limped into Akkad, supported by Bracca’s arm.
His left shoulder twinged, too, another painful remembrance of a sword tip that had reached the bone. In his youth, Eskkar had often smiled at the older warriors who struggled against stiff joints and complained about old wounds, especially during the rain or cold weather. Now, to his chagrin, he had joined them.
These gloomy signs of advancing age did little to cheer Eskkar’s disposition, but he shrugged them off, after muttering a curse or two beneath his breath. Soon enough he’d be fighting for his life, and a few aches and pains would mean little.
This morning Eskkar had said his goodbyes to Trella, neither of them dwelling on the chance that he might be defeated and dead in the next few days. As she had done often before, Trella merely urged him to hurry back, and said she would be waiting for him.
Both mother and father had said more painful goodbyes to Sargon. He had departed five days earlier to join Akkad’s allies — the Ur Nammu and Alur Meriki. The likelihood of Sargon’s survival wasn’t much better than his father’s. Eskkar had clasped his son tight, while Trella stood by with tears in her eyes, as her oldest son went off to war.
Nevertheless, Eskkar put all thoughts of wife and son out of his mind, and forced himself to concentrate on the current task — guiding his horse through the wet earth. Like Eskkar, each of his forty riders led a second horse, a precious gift from the last of Trella’s herds. The extra horses would allow Eskkar to make up some of the lost time, assuming, of course, that the gods didn’t pour more rain down upon his head. The Dellen Pass and the approaching Elamites awaited his arrival.