Dawn of Empire (52 page)

He’d think more about it later.

When Esk kar dropped the empty wineskin to the ground, the soldiers had gathered around the fi re. Those closest to the blaze sat, while the rest stood behind. Almost ninety men waited patiently, wanting to hear what he would say.

A few whispered to one another, but most remained silent. Everyone stared at him and Esk kar saw admiration in their eyes. It took a moment before he understood. Trella’s words came back to him.
The men first, Eskkar, build on their loyalty. Remember how much you need them.
He must say something to them.

He stood up. Instantly all conversation ceased, and every eye rested on him. Taking a deep breath, Esk kar raised his voice.

“Today we defeated the barbarians in battle. But this was no common clash in the hills. We had to kill all of them. Well, today you men killed seventy - three barbarians and we lost only twelve men. To win, you had to follow your orders exactly and fight bravely. You needed to work together to save each other’s lives. You did that well, and at the same time you proved that the enemy could be beaten with the bow. Now they’ll have no force behind us when they come to Orak, and we’ll beat them there just as we did here. Today, the glory was yours. Today I did nothing but run so slowly that all of my men passed me by.”

They laughed at that, a few calling out comments about Esk kar getting old.

He raised his arm and pointed toward the other fire fifty paces away, where the Ur Nammu sat silently, watching Esk kar speak to his men. “But never forget that we would not have been so lucky without their help.

Some of them died today, including their leader, to help us. For that we must honor them and join them as brothers.”

Esk kar glanced around the ring of men. He could see some eyes glistening with moisture. “Tonight we’ll take many new men into the Hawk Clan. Gatus, Hamati, Jalen … we all observed many men who fought bravely. But each of you stood at your companion’s side, and each of you can speak up about his courage. First, I call out the name of Phrandar, the fleetest runner and the first to reach the battle line, earning a gold coin for his speed. He held the end of the battle line. I ask you, is he Hawk Clan?”

A roar of approval answered his choice. Men shouted out other names.

Then someone began to chant the name “Esk kar! … Esk kar! … Esk kar!”

Others took up the cry, until the walls of the valley echoed from the din. It went on for so long he thought their lungs would burst. When they quieted down, the men sat there, looking at him.

Esk kar had never seen such honor given before. Though he’d done little, the soldiers gave him credit for their victory. The men believed in him. More than that, they trusted him to keep them alive. Trella had been right. He no longer needed to fight himself, to prove his valor, to keep their respect. They accepted his leadership, as they trusted him to lead them to future victories. He’d won their loyalty. Now he needed to build on it.

“Soldiers of Orak,” he began, “the Hawk Clan awaits the bravest of the brave. Give me their names!”

Another roar went up into the night. Again they shouted out names, until Gatus stood up and restored order. When they finished, eighteen more men would be entitled to wear the Hawk symbol. And they all swore they’d follow Esk kar into the demon’s pits if he led them.

Esk kar finally slipped away and walked over to Subutai and his men.

They silently mourned their leader, as they watched the soldiers celebrate.

“Subutai,” Esk kar began, “I’ve come to offer my thanks to you and your men. Without your help, we would not have achieved this victory. I also offer my sorrow for Mesilim. He was a great fighter, a brave man who led his people well.”

“You honor my father, and that is good. He died as he wanted—in battle.” Subutai kept his voice strong and clear for all to hear, the voice of a chief. “But you, too, are a great leader, and you’ve led us to a great victory.

Because of this I have declared the Shan Kar of my father satisfied. He gave us the Shan Kar and this victory, but now both are finished. We’ll return to the north from whence we came.”

The moment Subutai had declared the Shan Kar over, Esk kar knew the Ur Nammu would fight no more. Mesilim had made the arrangement to fight with Esk kar, not Subutai, and his son wasn’t bound by oath or duty to abide it. In his heart, Esk kar could not argue with the decision. Too few now to do much damage, the Ur Nammu would be lucky to stay alive.

“I’m glad your Shan Kar is ended. But the friendship between our people will not end. We owe you much, and we’ll remember our debt.”

Esk kar described his plan to begin the march back to Orak in the morning. They’d both bury their dead at first light. Subutai would return with Esk kar to gather the women and children left behind.

Hours passed before everyone finally settled down to sleep. Esk kar felt dog - tired, more from worrying than fi ghting. At last the sentries were posted and the watch established. He was about to wrap himself in his blanket when he heard his name. Turning, he saw Subutai walking through the crowd of soldiers toward him. He started to get up, but Subutai sat down close beside him, their faces close together.

“Esk kar, I would speak with you a moment.” Subutai kept his voice low, and he spoke in his native tongue though the nearest man was ten paces away. “I know what my father promised you, and I’d help you if I can. My men are weary, and need time to rest, and we must regain our lands before another takes them. But I don’t want to leave you as a friend in the morning and find ourselves enemies by night.”

Esk kar understood Subutai’s problem. “There’s no dishonor in your course. You must do what’s best for your people. When you cross the river to the north, the land there is yours. None from Orak have ever claimed it, and few have even seen it. It doesn’t grow wheat or vegetables, so it is of little use to us. As long as you do not war across the river, we won’t be enemies.”

“It will be long before we’re strong enough to ride across the river.”

“Even then, there will be no need. When all this fighting ends, we’ll need help to watch our borders and warn us of new attacks and new enemies. We could establish trade for what you need, set up a trading camp.

Your people would benefit.”

“Perhaps it can be as you say,” Subutai said, “trade instead of war. But first I must gather my people and return to the mountains. Still some of my warriors favor the idea of raiding the Alur Meriki, as you and my father discussed. We’ll see what the next few weeks will bring.” He reached out and grasped Esk kar’s shoulder. “We part as friends, as my father would have done.”

Esk kar returned the grip. “As friends we will part. But there may yet be some things I can do for you before you go. I’ll think about it and send word to Trella.”

When the Ur Nammu chief departed, Esk kar sank back down on the grass, thinking about Subutai’s words “the next few weeks.” The new Ur Nammu leader had just said Esk kar and the village would have to withstand the Alur Meriki’s attacks for at least that long, no matter what. Eskkar grimaced as he rolled up in his blanket.

Trella had seen how these people could help Orak now and in the future. More important, she’d looked at them with kindness, seeing past the warrior trappings, even as she’d overlooked the barbarian in the man to whom she’d been given.

Bar’rack crawled to the top of the ridge, ignoring the insects that welcomed his presence as they nibbled on his flesh. Peering through a clump of tall grass, he watched the approach to the valley. He couldn’t see much. The entrance lay more than three hundred paces away, but what he saw kept him hugging the ground.

Two riders sat their horses near the valley’s mouth. Both carried lances tipped with yellow streamers and bows slung across their backs. Their relaxed posture made Bar’rack grit his teeth in anger. His clan brothers had ridden into that valley only hours ago; he could still see the broad trail of hoof prints that stretched from just below him all the way to the passage-way that led into what must be a good - sized valley.

Another rider appeared along the crest of the valley wall. This one waved his bow toward the riders below him. They waved back, but didn’t move. After a long moment studying the land beneath him, the third rider turned away, vanishing from sight.

Bar’rack swore at the flies and fleas biting at him, then cursed his clan brothers for leaving him behind, though now he began to think the gods had saved his life. His horse had stepped into a hole, breaking its leg and throwing its rider to the earth. Too dazed even to cling behind another rider, they’d left him behind in their eagerness to close with the Ur Nammu. He’d slipped into unconsciousness and when he awoke, he found himself alone.

Angry at being left behind, Bar’rack started walking, an activity that normally consisted of moving from his tent to his horse. It had taken him the better part of two hours, following the twisting trail left by his clansmen, to reach this place. Fortunately the riders hadn’t spotted him when he approached.

Another hour passed as he watched, but nothing happened. The crest rider had reappeared twice in that time, his movements telling Bar’rack that the Ur Nammu patrolled the valley’s heights as well as its access.

His Alur Meriki brothers hadn’t returned the way they entered, so either they’d ridden out the far end of the valley, assuming that it had one, or they’d all been killed. How that might be possible he had no idea, but he’d heard the story of the warriors trapped and killed by the Ur Nammu a few weeks ago. In his worst dreams, Bar’rack couldn’t believe such a thing could happen to his clansmen.

A handful of riders appeared at the valley’s mouth, and for a moment Bar’rack thought his clansmen had returned. But these new riders showed no colors, didn’t even carry lances or bows. Dirt- eaters, he decided, from the way they handled their horses, except for their leader. A tall warrior with the look of a horseman, he spoke as an equal to the two Ur Nammu guarding the exit. The way they answered, showing respect and deference, surprised Bar’rack. He watched as the tall rider acknowledged their response. Then he wheeled his horse and rode back into the valley, his men following behind.

Bar’rack had seen enough. He put his face on the ground and tried to think. Dirt- eaters had banded together with the filth Ur Nammu. They’d either wiped out all the Alur Meriki warriors, or driven them to the south.

In either case, Bar’rack would be on his own. His duty to his clan was clear—he had to get back across the Tigris and warn the Alur Meriki clan leaders.

A moment of fear swept through him. If the Ur Nammu rode back this way, they might see his footprints overlaying the horse trail. They’d hunt him down, track him wherever he went, until they caught him. Bar’rack looked up at the sun. Only a few hours of daylight remained. He didn’t dare start moving until dark. He’d have to travel all night, put as much distance as possible between him and the Ur Nammu, who would surely send out patrols at dawn.

Getting away, finding and stealing a horse somewhere, then getting back to Thutmose - sin: that’s what he needed to do. Bar’rack rolled over on his back and covered his eyes with his arm. He still had his water skin and his bow. He’d rest until dusk, then start moving. With luck, he could travel far enough to escape the Ur Nammu patrols.

Beneath his arm, Bar’rack found his eyes watering. His younger brother had ridden into that valley. Now Bar’rack would have to tell their mother of his death. He let the tears come, something he couldn’t do in the presence of warriors. But when the tears dried, he swore vengeance to the gods, in the name of his brother, against both the Ur Nammu and the miserable dirt - eaters. The gods heard his oath, and he knew they would honor it. The dirt - eaters and Ur Nammu would pay for his brother’s death.

21

–-

At first light Esk kar dispatched a rider to Orak to deliver word of the victory. He also wanted Trella aware of Mesilim’s death and its effect on Subutai.

The men spent the morning burying the dead and caring for the wounded. The sun had climbed high before they began their journey back to Orak, but the long summer days promised them extra hours of daylight.

The injured who could cling to a horse had been given mounts, while parties of men took turns carrying the three wounded men unable to ride.

Thirty - two horses had been captured. Esk kar gave thirty of them to the Ur Nammu. The rest of the Alur Meriki mounts had been killed in the fi ghting.

Every man had their fill of horsemeat, while what was left of the farmhouse had provided fuel for the cooking fires.

They camped as soon as darkness fell, and the next morning Esk kar had them on the march almost as soon as the sun rose. By early afternoon they’d covered nearly three - quarters of the distance home and Esk kar expected to reach Orak just after dark. He didn’t push the pace and the men walked lighter now that they didn’t have to carry the awkward and heavy shields.

They carried no food, either. The last of it had gone with this morning’s breakfast. It wouldn’t hurt the men to miss one dinner.

The sun had started to set when a rider appeared over the hilltop and lashed an obviously tired beast toward the column of soldiers.

Subutai rode alongside Esk kar, though only ten of his warriors accompanied him. The others had stayed behind in the valley, guarding the horses and resting. Esk kar watched the rider as he approached, the horse covered with sweat and finished for the day. Halting the column, Esk kar dismounted and sat on the ground, motioning to the rider to join him. The rest of his men, eager to hear the latest news, crowded around them, all discipline lost in a moment.

“Captain, I come from Lady Trella. She says to tell you the barbarians have been sighted.” The man paused to catch his breath. “A large column rode up from the south two days ago. We saw more than a hundred riders.

Now they keep a watch on the village.”

“Did any of them attempt to cross the river?” The water ran a bit lower now, and a strong swimmer might make it across.