Battle For Empire (The Eskkar Saga)
Page 45
“That seems careless. They should have wondered which direction we came from.” Sargon studied the plain beneath him. The enemy forces appeared alert enough. Soldiers armed with bows and spears flanked the main downward slope all the way to the ditch. More archers, backed up by several hundred horse fighters, waited for any attempt to escape or counterattack. “My father or Hathor would have sent out four or five patrols.”
“Perhaps. But they may think it’s more likely we came from the south, from Akkad’s outposts. Two more patrols headed out in that direction.”
“When Bekka arrives,” Sargon said, studying the landscape, “he’ll take one look at the horse herd and attack. If he can scatter those horses during the night, the Carchemishi will be in trouble.”
“If he comes. Subutai has his doubts. That’s what he told Chinua.”
“He’ll come if he can.” Sargon put more confidence in his words than he felt. “But who knows when? How long can we hold out up here without water?”
“Before they climbed the slope, Subutai ordered every sack and skin filled with water. And the horses had plenty to drink. But despite all that, with so many people, it’s almost all gone. Soon we’ll be too weak to fight.”
Exactly the same trap Eskkar had used on the Alur Meriki. Sargon had never realized how important a weapon water could be. His cunning father had understood its role, and constructed a battle plan based on little else.
“If I were Subutai,” Sargon said, “I would attack tomorrow at dawn. He has to be ready anyway, if Bekka comes tonight. And if he doesn’t, why wait another day without water? And the longer we’re up here, the better prepared the Carchemishi will be.”
“Do you think Bekka can get here that fast? He won’t be able to double up on his horses as we did.”
“By now, one of Unegen’s riders will have reached him. Once he realizes the situation here, Bekka will press the pace. He’ll want to arrive while we can still fight. If the enemy destroys us, they’ll have the hill itself as a refuge. They could even corral the horses up here. Nothing the Alur Meriki could do would touch them then.”
“You think like a clan leader, Sargon.” Garal’s usually cheerful voice held only respect. Like all the other Ur Nammu, he believed anyone who has killed a man in battle must be treated as a warrior. “Someday you will make a good war chief.”
The last thing Sargon had ever wanted. “If we live that long.”
Later that day, Sargon watched as Subutai returned to the patch of ground where his wives and children had gathered. Though Tashanella’s father strode through the camp with his head held high, Sargon guessed that Subutai was growing discouraged. The leader of the clan had probably gotten little sleep for the last seven days, and Sargon wondered how much longer the Ur Nammu Sarum could last.
Subutai collected a single strip of dried meat from his wives, and then crossed over to where Sargon and Tashanella sat side by side.
“Sargon, we are readying the warriors for an attack at first light. We will try to drive off the invaders.”
“Can you not wait a little longer for the Alur Meriki to arrive?”
Subutai shook his head. “Most of the warriors have had nothing to drink since yesterday. If we wait any longer . . .” His voice trailed off. “And Fashod doesn’t think the Alur Meriki can get here before the day after tomorrow at the earliest. By then we’ll be dying of thirst. Better to go now, while we can still fight.”
A hopeless attempt, Sargon knew, but there was little else that Subutai could do.
“Fifty warriors will attack down the slope that you and Fashod used to scale the hill. They will try to convince the enemy that we are attempting to escape there. Then the rest of us will ride down and try to get through the ditch on the right hand side. If we send all our men against that one place, we may be able to break through. If our warriors can reach the enemy horses, we may be able to stampede and scatter them.”
“Where do you wish me to be?” Sargon really didn’t care.
“For your sake, and for your father’s, I wish you had not returned here. You could have ridden south, and reached the lands of Akkad.”
“I came back for your daughter, Subutai. I don’t intend to leave her.”
“So I see.” Subutai looked at Tashanella, and smiled. “That means she has chosen well. Probably better than I would have for her.”
He reached out and touched her cheek for a moment. Then he turned back to Sargon. “The old men, young boys, and some of the women will defend the camp when . . . after we attack. I thought you might want to remain here with them. They will need a leader if our attack fails.”
Sargon understood. Every clan leader and subcommander would ride to the attack. He thought about Subutai’s offer, but he’d already made up his mind. He and Tashanella had already discussed tomorrow’s attack.
“No. I will ride beside Chinua, Garal, and their kin. I cannot stay behind when they ride to war.”
“In that case, you will ride behind me. I will lead the attack down the slope, and Chinua will lead the second wave.” He stood and ran his fingers through Tashanella’s hair. “You will see to your mother and the others?”
“Yes, Father. I will be at their side.”
Sargon understood what that meant. Tashanella would make sure her younger brothers and sisters did not fall into the enemy’s hands.
“Then I have done all that I can for them,” Subutai said. “Now I must see to my men.”
Sargon glanced up at the sun as Subutai strode off into the camp. The afternoon was passing, and before long, the sun would touch the horizon.
Sargon placed his arm around Tashanella’s shoulder and pulled her close. They might not have much more time together.
32
Thirty miles to the north, Bekka glanced up at the sun. Dusk would soon be upon them. He raised his hand to halt the warriors, and eased his sweat-stained horse to a stop. They would camp here for the night. The war party, numbering just over eight hundred men, had ridden hard since leaving the caravan.
Even the strongest warriors had grown weary, but many of their horses were nearing the end of their limits. The animals needed frequent rests, and at each stop Bekka heard more than the usual grumblings from his men. Still, the Alur Meriki had traversed the countryside quicker than the swiftest raiding party, far faster that any raid Bekka had ever ridden on before.
He had his reasons for keeping up the pace. The less time Bekka’s warriors had to think about the coming battle, the better. Many of his men remained angry over his decision to fight the Carchemishi. They argued that this battle would provide little gain and great risk. Others hated the Ur Nammu, and wondered why their Sarum wanted to save them.
Given the lack of enthusiasm, almost everyone had protested the rapid pace of the expedition. After all, they pointed out, even if the invaders killed every last Ur Nammu, the Carchemishi would be weakened from whatever losses they sustained. In fact, they claimed, the invaders would be more likely to be taken by surprise, still celebrating their victory over the Ur Nammu.
Some, and Bekka wished he knew the numbers of this group, disapproved of the decision simply because they did not trust their new Sarum. In their minds, Bekka had done nothing to prove his worth as a leader. At least Chief Urgo, despite the fact that he had negotiated the peace with Eskkar, had years of experience. Bekka, these malcontents grumbled, had yielded ground at the stream against Eskkar’s men, and had accomplished nothing since.
Now, with threats of war surrounding the Alur Meriki, those unhappy with Bekka’s leadership muttered that they preferred to put their trust in Trayack, an older and proven war chief. A rumor already had passed through the ranks, promising that Trayack would absolve all of them from their oath to Eskkar.
Bekka had gritted his teeth when he learned of that claim. It sounded all too believable, something Trayack would say. Bekka might have left the obstreperous clan leader behind, but Trayack’s dark presence had managed to accompany Bekka’s forc
e and haunt his every decision.
Whatever their reasons to complain about the coming battle, those discontented did not understand that the world had changed. Eskkar’s son had returned to the Ur Nammu, after appealing for assistance from the Alur Meriki. If the brash boy died fighting against Akkad’s enemies, sooner or later, the blame would fall on the Alur Meriki for failing to help.
Once that happened, Eskkar would decide, probably sooner than later, to destroy the clan. He had nearly done it at the battle of the stream. If a loud talker like Trayack ruled the Alur Meriki, all it might take to bring Eskkar’s Akkadians down on their heads would be a single raid against some lonely farmstead and a few dead farmers. One dead cow might even be enough.
On the other hand, if Sargon and his allies survived, the King of Akkad would owe much to Bekka and the Clan. That debt would keep the Alur Meriki strong for many years.
“A good place to camp.” Suijan led his horse over to join Bekka. “My bones are aching. I haven’t ridden so hard for years.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Bekka said, grateful for the interruption to his gloomy thoughts. He slid down from his horse. His back felt stiff as well, and he leaned backward to stretch his muscles. “We’ve both gotten lazy and . . .”
A shout announced the arrival of a scout, urging a tired and well-lathered horse down the length of the column. Bekka realized it wasn’t one of his war party, but Unegen, the warrior Bekka had sent ahead to escort Sargon and his companions.
“Chief Bekka.” Unegen slid from his horse and strode over to where the two clan leaders stood.
Bekka frowned. “I thought you were going to stay with the forward scouts.”
“I was, but things are happening too fast. I thought you should know.”
The other clan leaders, Virani and Prandar, had seen Unegen ride in. Now they pushed their way through the gathering crowd, anxious to hear the latest news.
Unegen waited until all the chiefs stood together. “The Ur Nammu have gone to ground. They’ve taken refuge on a hilltop. The invaders, and there may be as many as two thousand, have surrounded the Ur Nammu. We couldn’t be sure of the exact number of the Carchemishi. They keep moving around. Nevertheless, Sargon and his companions broke through the lines last night. I think at least one or two reached the safety of the hilltop, to tell their sarum of our plan.”
“That’s good, then.” Bekka felt relief that the boy hadn’t died, not yet. “We’ll be there sometime tomorrow, probably just after midday.”
Unegen shook his head. “That will probably be too late for the Ur Nammu.” He explained the method that he and Fashod had agreed upon, to signal how long the besiegers could hold out. “They’re out of water by now, have been for a day or two. They’ll attack the Carchemishi at dawn tomorrow.”
Bekka grimaced at the bad news. “And how far away are they?”
“A little less than thirty miles,” Unegen said.
A murmur passed through the warriors at the distance. Bekka felt the eyes of the other clan leaders on him, and the gradual shifting of the warriors as they drew close enough to hear their leaders’ words. The little gathering had suddenly become a war council.
Bekka thought about the thirty miles, and knew it couldn’t be done. The distance was too far to cover before darkness, and the men and horses were already bone tired.
“Chief Bekka,” Unegen broke into his clan leader’s thoughts. “I was hoping you could give me some men to return as soon as possible. If we could make a show of force, we might be able to draw off some of the Carchemishi invaders. Even a hundred warriors could make a difference.”
“The invaders would turn on you fast enough,” Suijan said. “Are you willing to risk your life for these Ur Nammu?”
“No, Chief Suijan, not for them.” Unegen’s voice sounded firm. “But this Sargon seems like one whose life we should try and save. I’m willing to risk it, and perhaps a few others would join me.”
Bekka smiled at his young subcommander. Unwittingly, Unegen had given Bekka the opportunity he needed.
“No, Unegen.” Bekka shook the tiredness from his shoulders and raised his voice so that all the warriors, many of whom had clustered around their leaders, could hear his words. “You cannot return alone or with a handful of men. We will all ride together.”
He glanced up at the sun. “If you guide us, we can make another fifteen miles before it grows too dark. Then we’ll rest as long as we can, before we start to walk the horses. With luck, we’ll reach the battleground by dawn.”
Unegen’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “If we do, we’ll catch them from behind, while all their attention is on the Ur Nammu. And there’s the biggest horse herd I’ve ever seen, just waiting for us.” He described the enemy camp, and told the clan leaders about the horses, and where they were corralled.
Bekka nodded. “Yes, that would work.” He turned to the chiefs. “Pass the word to every man. We’re going to have a long ride, a long walk, and a hard fight when we arrive. Any warrior who cannot keep up, will be left behind, to catch up when he can.”
Even the weariest of the warriors understood the subtle challenge. No man could plead exhaustion and keep his honor, not when his clan chiefs and brother warriors went on ahead to war.
Everyone started talking at once, and Bekka heard many voices supporting Unegen and his plan. Others just called out approval, caught up in the excitement of the moment.
Bekka knew Unegen had done more than rally the warriors. Without Unegen’s riding in and volunteering to go to Sargon’s assistance, Bekka might not have been able to convince the others to go on.
But Unegen had ridden as hard as any man, and now he had unwittingly put all of them in a position where they would have to admit their weakness if they refused to press ahead. Bekka promised himself that Unegen would indeed be a chief some day, and soon. Unegen understood the way of the warrior, and now he’d begun to learn the mysteries of power and command.
And even more important, Unegen had probably just saved his Sarum’s life. Not today, but without a victory, sooner or later Trayack would sway the other chiefs and discontented warriors to his side. If Bekka survived the coming battle, Unegen would find himself a chief.
He put that thought aside. “You’ve done well, Unegen. Now, tell us what to expect when we arrive.”
“It’s time to go, Tashanella.” Sargon was grateful for the darkness that hid the tears in his eyes. He held her close, and felt her body shake from her own emotions, but she made no sound. They’d said their goodbyes much earlier and in private, holding each other through the night.
“Ride with courage.” She leaned back and lifted her face to his. “Fight hard, and stay alive. This will not be our end, my husband.”
He smiled at the tender words, the first time she had uttered them. Earlier in the evening, Sargon had stood before Subutai, and claimed Tashanella as his wife. With a wan smile, her father had placed his hands on Sargon’s shoulders and given his approval. Then Subutai had moved away and resumed his preparations for the coming battle.
Sargon hugged her one more time, then turned away. He didn’t trust himself to look back. He’d wanted to stay at her side, but knew that was not the way of the warrior. Tashanella would have been shocked if he failed in his duty.
She, too, had a lance, and she knew how to use it. Anyone who could hold a weapon would follow the warriors down the slope. Roxsanni and Petra had urged her to follow the men, saying they would stay behind to protect the children.
The women knew it was better to die fighting, rather than wait for the rape and other brutality that would be their fate at the hands of the invaders. Sargon hoped Tashanella would die quickly. His own coming death didn’t worry him. He’d expected to die ever since his father dragged him to these lands.
Now, in the predawn darkness, Sargon formed up with the other warriors. He mounted his horse and took his place at Garal’s side, not far from Jennat and Timmu and the rest of Chinua’s clan.
Fifty paces in front of Sargon, Subutai had massed his own warriors. The Sarum would lead his clan down the slope first, and attack the defenders waiting behind the ditch and stakes the Carchemishi had dug into the base of the hill.
Subutai’s fighters would throw themselves against the enemy fortifications and most would sacrifice their lives in what would likely be a futile assault. Chinua led the second force, and would attempt to break through whatever gap the Ur Nammu Sarum could open.
Fifty paces behind Sargon, the old men, young boys, and the women had assembled on foot. They, too, would die with a weapon in their hands.
The battle, however, would begin with Fashod. He had command of fifty men, and they would charge down the hill at the spot where Sargon and his companions had ascended. The rest of Fashod’s men were spread between Subutai and Chinua. All the horses not being ridden would be stampeded down the slope first. The ditch and stakes would kill most of them, but Subutai hoped they could dislodge some of the defenders.
Like everyone else preparing for the attack, Sargon knew the attempt was doomed. The Carchemishi were no fools and had prepared well. The ditch would stop the horses and the first wave of Ur Nammu.
The enemy archers would turn the base of the hill into a killing ground. Less than three hundred men would face more than a thousand. Subutai and most of his men would be killed in the first wave.
The Carchemishi would not be taken by surprise. They expected an attack, and pre-dawn would be the most likely time for the Ur Nammu to try something. The invaders always had at least half their men ready for any such endeavor, and the remaining soldiers took their rest with their weapons close at hand. The fighting would be brutal, but the ditch would slow the Ur Nammu, giving time for the enemy bowmen to rush to their positions and cut the warriors apart.