As the chase progressed, the Akkadians continued to move eastward. Farther northeast lay Akkad. No doubt the Elamites assumed the Akkadians rode toward the safety of Akkad’s walls. But such was not Hathor’s plan.
Both sides had grown weary, galloping more than thirty miles each day, always at the alert for a counterattack or ambush. Those worries added to the stress on both armies. Regardless, Naxos and Hathor had one big advantage that, hopefully, the Elamites knew nothing about.
Twice, well after darkness had fallen, the Akkadians had met up with Yavtar’s fighting boats. Upon leaving Sumer after the surprise attack, Hathor’s messengers had raced across the land and made contact with one of Yavtar’s boat captains. Once alerted to the location of the cavalry, Yavtar’s crews began the first of their own and very dangerous missions.
The day following the capture of the Horse Depot, eight boats had found the Akkadians after dark, delivering grain, food, and extra arrows to the cavalry. Two nights later, another group of seven boats had delivered much the same cargo before pushing off and vanishing into the mist that hovered over the black water.
Now, after three and a half days of hard riding, the Akkadians and Elamites studied each other across the stream.
“They’ll cross soon enough.” Naxos shaded his eyes with his hand as he stared at the Elamites. “They’re feeling more confident every day, watching us run from them.”
“We won’t be running much longer.” Hathor had developed this part of the plan himself. “It’s nearly time to set the trap.”
Naxos snorted. “Let’s hope they take the bait. We’ll be fighting for our lives if this plan you and Eskkar cooked up goes wrong.”
Hathor couldn’t hide his grin. After the successful trip through the foothills, followed by the attack on Sumer, Naxos had grudgingly conceded that Eskkar knew something about both warfare and tactics. Nevertheless, Naxos always found something to grumble about.
“Nothing in battle is certain, Naxos. But Eskkar’s idea has worked for him before, and there’s no reason to think it won’t work again. Unless you have a better plan to defeat seven thousand Elamites without losing half of our men?”
“No, not yet.” Naxos’s cheerful tone took the sting out of the words. “For now, we play our part, running from these Elamite dogs as if we’re afraid to face them. I still don’t like it.”
Nevertheless, Naxos gave the order, and the Akkadian cavalry, close to five thousand riders, moved out, once again heading east.
Hathor glanced at the midday sun, high in the cloudless sky. The hottest part of the afternoon still awaited the sweating men and horses. For the first time in three days, Hathor ordered the men to ride at a slightly slower pace. The Elamite cavalry, after they finished crossing the stream, would be less than half a day’s ride behind their Akkadian foes.
The Elamites had gradually closed the gap between the two forces, thanks to their fresher horses. Hathor’s mounts had been carrying the weight of their riders for more than a month. The Elamite cavalry leader, Simaski — reputed to be yet one more of King Shirudukh’s cousins — would be expecting to catch up with the Akkadians well before sundown tomorrow.
For this part of the plan, Hathor had taken charge, as Naxos agreed that the Akkadians had trained more often for this type of attack. The speed of the march, the direction they traveled, even the rest periods had to be calculated precisely. Hathor wanted to reach a certain campground just before dusk, and he wanted the Elamites, too, to make camp at another particular location.
By now the enemy had enough renegade guides in their service to provide all the information Simaski needed about the countryside between Sumer and Akkad. Hathor counted on those guides to suggest the best place for the Elamites to make their own camp tonight. The choice should be an easy one, with the presence of a small stream that promised plenty of water for the thirsty and tired enemy horsemen and their mounts.
The sun had already touched the horizon when Hathor’s force reached the camping place he had chosen nearly a year ago, along the banks of another, wider branch of the Tigris. The water presented a more difficult crossing, and one that the Akkadians would not want to risk in the growing darkness.
The weary men dismounted, then tended to their animals, making sure they drank plenty of water. The last of the grain was distributed, and the horses enjoyed the unusual bounty to go along with the thick grass that grew beside the riverbank. The men, too, ate well, finishing up the last of the supplies delivered only last night by Yavtar’s boatmen.
With the enemy so close behind, Hathor posted a strong guard around his camp, just in case the Elamite scouts, who were keeping the Akkadians in sight, were tempted to raid the Akkadian encampment. Tonight of all nights, that must not happen.
Spread out along the riverbank, Hathor’s men unrolled their blankets and dropped to the earth, to get as much sleep as possible.
For Hathor and Naxos, however, there would be little rest tonight. Just after dark, Hathor sent out a scouting party of his own, under the command of a veteran soldier named Asina, with special orders.
Twenty men had left the camp, pacing their horses in the dim light of the half moon. Asina and his men were to ride one mile back toward the Elamite scouts, dismount, leave their horses behind, and proceed on foot. If the enemy outriders remained true to their habit, they would have camped for the night about three miles away.
But before they bedded down, they would dispatch one or two riders to return to the main force and report on the Akkadian position. At least that was what the Elamites had done for the last three nights.
Hathor wanted all those scouts killed, down to the last man. Asina, one of Hathor’s best men, had orders to ensure no one escaped, and that no message of warning was sent back to the main Elamite camp.
Simaski’s camp, if the Elamite commander had stopped where Hathor expected, would be about ten miles behind their scouts. Hathor’s plan called for a long night of traveling on foot. Each man would lead his horse and carry nothing but his weapons and a small skin of water, most of that intended for the horse.
Hathor and Naxos gathered their commanders and explained the plan. None of the leaders expressed surprise. They had trained often enough for a night march, and expected that one would happen sooner or later. The horsemen, after a few groans at the thought of the long walk in the dark followed by a sharp fight, prepared themselves and their mounts, then went to sleep.
Well before midnight, Hathor gave the order that set the cavalry in motion. The weary soldiers woke, rubbed the sleep from their eyes, and collected their weapons and horses. The night march began.
The Akkadians traversed the mostly level terrain, sprinkled liberally with tall grass, at a good pace. The landscape allowed the cavalry to spread out over a wide front. Hathor’s Akkadian horsemen led the way, since they had trained for many months riding and walking after dark.
For all the men, the walk was a hard one. Each man had to remain alert and careful of his footing. No one wanted to risk a horse stumbling into some hole in the ground.
Three miles to the west, Hathor met up with Asina and his scouts.
“There were eight men, Lord Hathor. We killed them all. Only one of our men was slain.”
“You’re sure none got away?”
Even in the darkness, Hathor saw Asina’s flashing teeth.
“I counted the horses before we rushed them. Only eight horses. None of them escaped as well.”
Hathor grunted in relief. “Good. Send those horses to the rear. I don’t want any of them trotting back to the Elamite camp ahead of us and alerting the enemy. Then rejoin your men, get your horses, and scout on ahead. We’ve still a long way to go.”