by Sam Barone
Rukor looked both confused and disappointed. No doubt he expected to get at least a few days’ rest before climbing back on a horse. And the message didn’t seem particularly urgent or important.
Eskkar turned to Grond. “Give Rukor two silver coins as a reward.”
A week’s pay would make the man feel a little better. While Grond hunted in his belt for the coins, Eskkar went on. “Rukor, Drakis says you can be trusted, so I ask you to leave at once. Get a fresh horse and take whatever you need. And tell no one what message you carry. Do you understand?”
Grond put the coins in Rukor’s hand before the man could answer.
“Come with me, Rukor.” He put his arm around the uncomprehending man’s shoulder and started him moving. “I’ll make sure you get a good horse and plenty of food.”
When the two of them were gone Eskkar turned back to Drakis. “Now I need you to do something important, Drakis. Listen carefully. You’re going to deliver the rest of the message Gatus sent to me. The message is that Gatus and a hundred and twenty men will be here in four or five days. Do you understand?”
Drakis’s mouth fell open. There had been no other message. “But Captain, Gatus did not . . .”
“Listen to me, Drakis,” Eskkar went on patiently, keeping his voice low. “This is very important. Gatus told you that he and a hundred and twenty men will be here in four or five days. That’s what he told you to tell me.” Eskkar waited a moment, to let that sink in. “Now, Drakis, tell me what message you carry from Gatus?”
Drakis looked from Eskkar to Sisuthros, who grinned broadly at the man’s confusion. “Tell Eskkar what Gatus told you, Drakis,” Sisuthros encouraged. “Go on, deliver the message from Gatus.”
Now both Eskkar and Sisuthros waited, smiles on their faces. Drakis turned back to Eskkar. “Uh, Captain . . . Gatus said . . . that he and a hundred and twenty men would be here in four or five days.”
“Very good, Drakis,” Eskkar said. “Now remember well what Gatus told you. You must believe the words and say them as if it were true. When you’re with the men, someone will ask you what message you carried. You will tell them what Gatus said, just as you told me. I want our men to believe that more soldiers are coming. You must believe it yourself, so that they will believe you. Can you do that, Drakis? If you can’t, then you’ll need to get on a horse with Rukor. The men have to believe reinforcements are coming.”
“I can do it, Captain,” Drakis answered determinedly. “I’m not sure what these words mean, but I can do it.”
“Understanding is not required, Drakis,” Eskkar said, but softened the words with a smile. “Just follow your orders. Believe the message yourself, and you’ll have no trouble convincing any of the men. Now, let’s go over it again.”
Eskkar made Drakis repeat the message half a dozen times, until the words fell smoothly off his tongue. Finally Eskkar dismissed Drakis, letting him rejoin the men so he could get something to eat. The other men would ask for news of Akkad, and sooner or later, Drakis would “confirm” Gatus’s message. Rukor had already departed, on his way back to Akkad, carrying a useless message that would raise Trella’s eyebrows and make Gatus think his captain had lost his wits.
“Well, Captain,” Sisuthros said, “it’s as you said. The men will believe Drakis. And I expect the local farmers will be here soon. They know we’ve arrived, and that we’ll need food.”
“You deal with them personally when they arrive, Sisuthros. They’re important to the plan. Remember to pay them fairly for whatever they bring, but no more. If we start paying too much . . .” Eskkar glanced around the camp. “Now it’s time for Grond and me to take our little ride around the village, while you do your part.”
Moments later, after Eskkar had mounted his horse, a ragged cheer went up from the men. Sisuthros had just told the soldiers that Gatus and more men were on the way, to bolster their numbers. And should anyone ask Drakis, he would confirm that he had indeed delivered that message.
In Bisitun, men would start wondering about the cheering. Eskkar nodded in satisfaction.
With ten soldiers riding behind him, Eskkar started his survey of the village. First they rode slowly to the west, stopping often to examine the land, always keeping at least a quarter mile from the village. When they reached the river, they paused for nearly a half hour as Eskkar studied the land, the river, and the southwestern approach to the village before they began to retrace their steps. They quickened their pace as they passed behind their own encampment, then slowed down again and leisurely inspected the northeastern outskirts of Bisitun until they reached the river once again. As before, Eskkar took his time, studying the landscape, before they rode slowly back to the encampment.
They had been gone nearly two hours and during that time, the walls of Bisitun had been filled with men, not only soldiers but villagers as well, all of them nervous and curious as to what the men from Akkad were planning. Shading his eyes, Grond picked out the man with the silver arm bracelets who followed them along the palisade from one side of the village to the other.
“Well, we got their attention, Captain,” Grond said, as they dismounted and handed the horses off. “And Sisuthros makes good progress in building the ditch. It looks finished.”
“Let’s take a turn around the camp, just to see how it looks.”
They walked slowly around the encampment but found no fault with either the ditch or the rampart. While a good rider on a strong horse might leap the six-foot-wide ditch, the animal would be jumping directly into the mound of dirt and would probably bury itself to the shoulder into the soft earth. The ditch and the earthen embankment would slow down men on foot even more. They would have to jump into the ditch, then endeavor to climb up the rampart’s side, into the teeth of the defenders’ bows and swords. Satisfied that his position couldn’t be taken, Eskkar strode back inside the camp, thinking that, if Gatus were here, he would be pleased as well.
Eskkar repeated the inspection from behind the rampart, taking his time as he paced around the camp. The soldiers looked cheerful now, with the possibility of a fight delayed. They would have a few days’ rest before Gatus and his men arrived. With another hundred men, they knew they could easily storm the village.
Eskkar spoke to many of them, always asking if they understood their orders and knew what their posts were in an emergency, always trying to remember as many of their names as he could. He wanted them to know that he depended on them. And that this wasn’t the time for them to relax or forget their vigilance.
He had just finished checking the ranks when Sisuthros approached.
“Captain, here come the first of the farmers.”
Coming slowly down the road Eskkar saw three small farm carts, each pushed or pulled by two farmers. Either these farmers had no draft animals, or they feared the soldiers would confiscate them, a likely enough occurrence with Ninazu’s men. “Well, at least we’ll have fresh food for tonight.”
“Do you want to meet with them?”
“No. Let them get used to dealing with you, both now and in the future. Say that I am too busy to deal with farmers. Don’t forget to tell them we’ll need a great deal more food in a few days.”
“Do you think there will spies in this group, Captain?”
“No, not this group,” Eskkar said, taking a moment to consider. “Perhaps not even the next one. But when the third group arrives . . . then I think we’ll have some spies or farmers relying on Ninazu’s pay.”
Eskkar walked away from the rear gate and watched from a distance as the nervous farmers approached the camp. Sisuthros halted them outside the rear embankment, then spent half an hour haggling with them.
At first the local inhabitants looked fearful, afraid of their goods being confiscated, or themselves taken as slaves or laborers. But with Ninazu’s men taking what they wanted without paying, these farmers needed the copper coins, and their need had driven them to take the chance. So far none of these strangers from Akkad had looted anyone
or raided the local farmhouses, so perhaps, after all, they would deal honestly.
That night Eskkar enjoyed good wine with his dinner, along with nuts and fresh bread. The farmers had departed, scarcely able to conceal their joy. They’d received a decent sum for their goods and they promised to spread the word, and that more food would arrive tomorrow morning.
Once again, Eskkar muttered thanks to the gods for Trella’s advice.
She had given him a good supply of their precious silver to win over the goodwill of the local farmers. In the old days he would have simply taken what he needed from them, no doubt in much the same way that Ninazu had. Now Eskkar understood how that would alienate them and work against him in the long run. For the next few days, he needed their help, even if unwittingly given.
Sisuthros’s men kept a sharp lookout during the night, the soldiers on alert for any attack from the village. But as Eskkar expected, nothing happened. The morning sun found the land empty around them, though the sun hadn’t climbed much above the horizon before a ragged column of carts, wagons, and individuals carrying whatever they could manage appeared on the road from the south. The day’s trading would begin early.
Eskkar resisted the urge to join Sisuthros. His commander knew what needed to be done.
After breakfast, Eskkar took Grond, Mitrac, Hamati, and half a dozen other senior men to a corner of the camp and they planned their next move. The meeting didn’t last long. As soon as it broke up, Hamati put twenty men back to work, ten on each side of the encampment. They began digging out two new ditches. These would extend from either side of the camp, along the lines Eskkar had marked out yesterday.
The men had been told that Eskkar wanted to extend the ditch—to accommodate all the reinforcements Gatus would bring, and to enclose the extra food and horses. He’d told them little more, except that they could take their time and that they would be relieved every two hours.
With a secure main encampment already established, Eskkar felt certain the new ditches would raise plenty of questions inside Bisitun.
Sisuthros spent the morning with the farmers as they arrived. In the beginning, as he had done yesterday, he kept them out of the camp. But soon the numbers of eager farmers multiplied, all arguing and pleading with him and the clerks, and Sisuthros grew careless. Some farmers carried their goods inside the camp, seeking private purchasers. Others, their trading completed, just wandered in, to satisfy their curiosity regarding Eskkar and the Akkadians.
Only the wine and ale remained outside the camp, away from the soldiers, except for the lucky scribes who got to taste the goods in order to determine the quality and the price. Eskkar had given clear instructions on that issue. Sisuthros had assigned his most trustworthy men to guard the wineskins. If the men got at the strong spirits, half of them would be drunk within the hour and useless the rest of the day.
The sun had climbed high into the morning sky before Sisuthros got rid of the last of the farmers and rejoined his captain. “By the gods, Captain, I hate dealing with merchants and farmers! Every one of them wanted to argue about the price, each claiming his loaf of bread or chicken was worth double what we offered.”
“I told you it would be harder than you thought. Still, you’d better get used to it. Are they coming back?”
“Yes, there will be more this afternoon. But it went well, I think.”
“Good. Now, tell me what you learned about Ninazu.”
“Grond was right, Eskkar. He’s the one with the silver bracelets. They are afraid of him, that’s plain enough. He’s killed anyone who’s opposed him. They’d be happy if we drive him away.”
Eskkar nodded grimly at that. “Yes, that would please everyone. Now, tell me what else you learned.”
Part of buying and selling was talking. The farmers felt curious about the soldiers and the new city of Akkad, and seemed willing to offer up information about Ninazu. In his turn, Sisuthros had described to them how wonderful life had become in Akkad, now that the barbarians had been vanquished, never to return again, and prosperity restored under Eskkar’s enlightened and just rule. Sisuthros related the tale of the defeat of the barbarians three times, each version with more detail than the time before.
Some of the farmers looked skeptical, but the individual soldiers, once they’d begun dealing with them, helped convince the farmers.
As for Ninazu, none of them knew for sure, but after much prodding from Sisuthros and the scribes, it seemed as though Ninazu had at least a hundred and twenty fighting men. As the story went, the bandit leader had waited until the village had started to reestablish itself after the passing of the barbarians. When the villagers had trickled back to their homes and farms, Ninazu had sent a few of his men into Bisitun to spy on the inhabitants.
Then, only a month ago, he and at least fifty men had suddenly ridden into the village. He’d killed the two village elders who had returned to their homes, then executed a few more brave souls who resisted or spoke out against him. At first Ninazu’s men had taken what they wanted, but in the last two weeks, he’d begun restraining his followers, trying to win over the villagers and gain their support. Despite his harsh treatment of the villagers, Ninazu now had plenty of men, many of them recruited from the local countryside, while others had ridden in from the west, eager to join up and seduced by tales of easy plunder.
Eskkar knew well that old story, one he had experienced himself not so long ago, though the less anyone learned about his past the better. He didn’t feel sorry for what he had done. Instead he felt embarrassed by the fact he and his raiders, half drunk and still hung over from too much ale, had been taken by surprise. A band of barbarian warriors had secretly watched him capture a village and plunder it for two days, before they swooped down on him and his band, overwhelming them in moments.
His luck had saved him again. He’d escaped, clinging to his horse and fleeing for his life, most of his men killed or captured, the rest scattered to the winds. He put that uncomfortable memory out of his mind.
“Good work, Sisuthros. Just make sure you don’t make it too easy for them. Let them pick up scraps of information from the men.”
“We’ve been very careful, Captain. The scribes are talking freely, though they still record every sale, and the price we pay.”
Eskkar frowned at that. He couldn’t get away from the ever-present scribes, who spent their lives counting and recording, not only men and animals, but bags of grain, loaves of bread, the numbers of swords and bows. Already one pack animal groaned under its load of small clay tablets.
“You’ll have to deal with the scribes. Remember, Trella and Nicar will check every item as well. So take care, or they’ll take any losses out of our pay.”
That remark brought a grin to both men. Eskkar had no more coins in his purse today than when he’d first wandered into Akkad. And the only pay Sisuthros would see remained inside Bisitun, still waiting to be earned. The village would first have to be taken, then nursed back to prosperity before Sisuthros saw any gold for himself. But he would rule here, in Eskkar’s name, and both men understood that, in time, the gold would come.
Sisuthros stayed with Eskkar until midafternoon, when the next ragged column of farmers appeared on the road. This group, about twenty-five men and ten women, was larger than the one this morning. Most of the same farmers had returned, their carts once again loaded with bread, fruit, vegetables, a scrawny chicken or two, and even a few skins of strong wine.
Some of the women carried very little, and Eskkar guessed that what they had for sale was not necessarily what they carried in their baskets. Well, a little business of that kind wouldn’t hurt his men, except in their purses.
Sisuthros repeated the process from the morning. At first he held the farmers outside the camp, until the press of business and time made discipline relax and he let them deliver their goods inside. There they mingled with the soldiers, everyone still curious about each other. This time Eskkar thought one or two of the strangers had looked t
oward him with more than idle curiosity.
The afternoon trading lasted almost two hours, before Sisuthros finally got the last one out of the camp and on his way. A few of the women wanted to remain, and Sisuthros had to line up the men to make sure they were all truly gone. Afterward, he had to deal with the scribes for a few moments before he joined Grond and Eskkar.
“By the gods, if I had to do that every day, I’d fall on my sword!”
Sisuthros exclaimed. “I’m beginning to hate all traders and merchants. And the whores! Thank the gods they won’t be back tomorrow.” The farmers had been told not to come back until the day after tomorrow. The men from Akkad now had more than enough supplies to last a few days.
“You won’t do very well running Bisitun with that attitude,” Eskkar commented. “Did any of them seem unusual?”
“Yes, Captain. There were two or three that looked a little different. One had soft hands and looked as if he hadn’t farmed in some time. He kept looking around and asking the scribes plenty of questions.”
“I noticed that one, wandering through the camp and talking to the men.” Eskkar knew it would take the spy or spies several hours to get back into Bisitun, now that Eskkar’s men blocked the main road. Informers would have to go upriver a bit, then hug the riverbank until they reached the village. Or if they had a boat readied, they could float down to Bisitun.
Either way, by this evening Ninazu would have his report. He would know his opponent’s camp was strong and secure, the men confident and relaxed, and that a large group of reinforcements would be joining up soon.
Now Eskkar wondered what Ninazu would do with the information.
Ninazu’s choices would be limited. He could try and wait it out inside the village, trusting to his palisade to stop the Akkadians. The problem with that plan was that if Eskkar really had almost two hundred men and the skill to use them effectively, Ninazu wasn’t likely to stop them. And once his followers learned of the coming reinforcements, the fight would go out of many of them. They hadn’t joined up with Ninazu to cross swords in a close, desperate battle for Bisitun. No, they sought after easy loot, not a death fight.