“Probably haven’t been raped yet,” Bracca said. “There wouldn’t be any fight left in them if the men had already taken a few turns.
“They’re in for a long night,” Eskkar said. “They have a lot of men to satisfy.”
“Forget the women. Look at all those pack animals!” Bracca couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “Can you imagine how much gold they’re carrying?”
“The bandits don’t seem to have many sacks on their mounts,” Eskkar said. “All the loot must be on the pack horses, to be distributed by the leader. I’d guess most of those pack animals will go to the warriors as well. They’ll likely start dividing the goods right after they set up camp and eat.”
“No, I think not,” Bracca said. “Why start trouble tonight? No matter how you divide the spoils, some thick-headed oaf will complain he’s receiving less than he deserves. If their leader has his wits about him, he divvies up the plunder in the morning. Then he and his picked men can just ride away, and leave the others behind him, still arguing about the size of their shares.”
Eskkar decided Bracca was probably right. “Well, the loot means nothing to us. We’ll have to wait it out, and see what they do tonight. We can’t try anything until the middle of the night.”
It didn’t take long before he and Bracca found out about the contents of some of the sacks. Not all the pack animals carried loot. Two horses carried wine skins, and these were soon being passed around. Camp fires were lit, and before long smoke trails wafted on the warm evening air. The bandits had not bothered to hunt any game, so each man ate whatever he had stashed in his pouch.
“I’ll wager that none of them has drunk any spirits for days. That will make the wine even more powerful,” Bracca remarked. “Look, even the barbarians are drinking.”
Eskkar wondered about that. “These warriors, they must be outcasts, cursed by their clan. Otherwise they would never take wine in the company of dirt eaters.”
“From what I’ve seen, the bandit leader isn’t drinking much. He’s had a few swallows, but he and his guards must be planning to stay sober.”
The man commanding the raiders, a broad-shouldered man with a dark beard, had two brawny guards who stayed constantly at their leader’s side. Under the leader’s direction, all the captured spoils were gathered in the center of the camp, beside his blanket. Another two men took guard positions over the loot. Obviously the bandit chief didn’t intend to let his men near the fruits of their raiding until tomorrow.
Nor, apparently, did he intend to share the women. The four now huddled against the captured goods, looking miserable even from the hilltop.
Eskkar wondered about that. “Is he keeping all the women for himself? A good leader would take one and give the rest to his men.”
“No, he probably intends to sell them as slaves in Yarmo. He knows they’ll fetch a better price if they’re not battered and bruised.”
“Better for us if he takes the four of them himself,” Eskkar muttered. “He’ll sleep all the sounder.”
With so much gold in sight, Bracca had no interest in the women. “He’ll have at least one of his men awake and guarding the spoils throughout the night. That might change everything.”
“One guard, probably a warrior, up here on the hill, directly over the horse herd.” Eskkar, too, ignored the women as he let his mind continue to work out the situation. “Another to guard the sacks of gold, and one to watch the trail to the south. So at least three guards, with a change around midnight. If there are any more, I don’t think we’ll get away with it.”
“Your plan to slip in among the horses and stampede them might not work then,” Bracca said.
Eskkar nodded, though in the deepening darkness his friend didn’t notice. “Don’t give up yet. But there may be another way, Bracca. Let me think about it.”
Below the two observers, the bandits continued their celebration long into the night. The wine skins were soon drained and tossed aside. Even so, many of the bandits remained squatting close to the camp fires, boasting of their deeds and what they would do with their share of the gold. Words and phrases floated up even to top of the hill. More than a few of the brigands staggered about, already feeling the effects of too much wine.
Finally the weary crowd began to settle down for the night. The last of the wine skins lay empty, and the revelries finally ended. Soon afterward, the loud talking gradually ceased. One by one, the bandits spread their blankets and collapsed to the ground. Now the sounds of snoring competed with the voices of those few yet awake and gossiping among themselves.
“Look!” Bracca’s whisper showed his excitement. One of the warriors had started the ascent up the slope. “The sentry is coming. Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to climb up here for a look around.”
“He won’t.” Eskkar’s voice held more confidence than he felt. If the man did, they’d be discovered. Even if they killed him, Bracca and he wouldn’t get off the hill alive.
However the steppes warrior, not the one who earlier had scouted the watering hole, took up his position on the lower hill, leaning against the same rock that the advance scout had selected. This man carried a bow and quiver of arrows in his left hand, and he set these down on the ground beside him. After one careful look around, he unsheathed his sword, and thrust that into the earth, ready to his hand. The warrior’s position placed him almost directly above the horse herd. Beneath him, and close to the horses, his warrior companions prepared their own sleeping ground, at least twenty-five or thirty paces away from the nearest dirt eaters.
Another bandit stumbled his way to the opposite end of the camp, to watch the southern trail. Soon only the third guard, this one safeguarding the captured loot, remained awake in the center of the camp.
The barbarian sentry, however, had given Eskkar an idea. Once again he moved his mouth close to Bracca’s ear, and whispered. It took some time, but at last Bracca nodded, and the two men began their long vigil.
Eskkar stretched out on the grass, on his stomach, and closed his eyes. A man resting on his stomach is much less likely to fall asleep and start snoring, or at least not as loudly. Bracca would take the first watch, his hand ready to shake Eskkar into silence if he made the slightest noise.
The two men took turns dozing. They would need all their strength when the moment came, and every bit of rest would help. Eskkar intended to launch their attack during what would be the middle of the first watch, when the bandits would be in their deepest slumber, tired from a long day’s ride and with many still numbed by the wine they’d consumed.
Eskkar managed to get more rest than he expected. Bracca woke him well before midnight. When Eskkar felt himself fully awake, he shed his sword, pouch, belt, sandals, and the halter rope from around his waist, keeping nothing but his knife. He slipped the sharp blade from its scabbard. With a final nod to Bracca, Eskkar started crawling down the hillside on his hands and knees, making sure that he never let any part of his body rise above the grass. He carried his knife clamped firmly between his teeth.
To reach the sentry, Eskkar first had to negotiate his passage through about thirty paces of downhill slope. When he reached the bottom, another twenty paces would have to be crossed before he could rush the sentry. Fortunately, the second part of the crawl would be through a cluster of small boulders that should give him some protection from discovery.
Edging his way down the slope, Eskkar moved only one part of his body at a time. First a hand, then a knee, followed by a pause to make sure the sentry hadn’t moved. He never let his weight settle on anything that might betray his presence.