set. Perhaps you have someone who can tend to him?”
Mesilim considered the request. “A boy must be tended last, after the warriors. We have a healer, though he has his own wounds. I’ll send him to you after our warriors are tended.”
Mesilim looked toward those men clearing the burial site. “We’ll bury our dead there as soon as possible. Do you wish to put your dead with them?”
“Yes, we would gladly bury our men with yours. Thank you for the honor. Would it be allowed for my men to help digging the burial mound?”
A mass grave would have to be dug out of the hilly earth, deep enough to keep wild animals out. It would take many men’s efforts to get it done.
“We have one digging tool with us that might make the work easier,” Eskkar added.
“I must consult my men about that,” Mesilim replied.
Any handling of the dead must be done with great care and the proper rituals, to make sure their spirits rested in peace for all time.
Mesilim began speaking to his son and two warriors. Each had something to say, but they all seemed to agree. He turned back to Esk kar. “Your men may help us and we are grateful. Your dead will honor our own.”
Esk kar bowed in thanks and walked to his men, leaning heavily on the stick and clenching his teeth against the pain. “Mesilim will send a healer to help with the… Tammuz.” You didn’t call anyone who’d killed an enemy in battle a boy. “Gather our dead and prepare them for burial. Then all who can dig will help Mesilim’s men prepare the grave. We bury our dead with theirs, and they honor our own by the offer.”
“What are they doing now?” Sisuthros asked. A dozen or so warriors had mounted horses and ridden off, half of them leading spare animals.
“They’ll gather the bodies from the other battleground. After everyone is buried, the corpses of the Alur Meriki will be left to rot on top of the grave and to feed the carrion, so all will know how many died here. Then, I think, we’ll all get out of this damned canyon.”
Leaving all this behind sounded better and better every moment.
Flies buzzed everywhere, and vultures and crows circled above, waiting their chance, attracted by the blood and death. Esk kar tried to ignore the coppery — blood smell that wanted to make him retch. He saw Mitrac swat at a fly. “Mitrac, have you recovered your arrows yet?”
The guilty look on the boy’s face answered the question. “Go find your shafts. We may need them again and while you’re doing that, count the number of your kills.” It would give the young man something to do.
“Sisuthros, leave one man to watch Zantar and the… Tammuz. The rest of you, get the shovel and start digging.”
Digging turned out to be too much for Esk kar, who found he couldn’t put any extra strain on his leg. But five of his men began digging alongside the Ur Nammu, and the small bronze shovel they’d brought with them proved a big help. In all, twenty men were soon digging as hard as they could, though Esk kar knew darkness would fall long before they finished.
Mesilim planned for that as well. Two men returned carrying firewood.
They started a fire, then rigged up some branches to serve as torches. Strips of fat torn from the dead horses would keep them burning.
Esk kar’s men dug as hard as the tribesmen, to prove themselves as strong and tough as their newfound friends. Despite their help, it took twenty — five men nearly four hours to dig a pit long and deep enough to hold almost fifty bodies. That included the Ur Nammu killed in the earlier fi ghting.
Those bodies were brought to the gravesite, tied two to a mount. Almost two thirds of Mesilim’s people had died today. They’d fought bravely and if their numbers had been more evenly matched, they might have defeated the Alur Meriki by themselves. Now only about twenty — five Ur Nammu warriors, many of them wounded, remained to carry on their leader’s sworn vengeance.
Darkness fell and men built up the fire and lit more torches. An hour later the moon rose and helped illuminate their work. Nevertheless the effort exhausted every man who finally staggered from the pit.
“By the gods, Captain.” Sisuthros appeared ready to fall down. So much dirt covered him that his eyes gleamed white in the torchlight. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked as hard.” He looked around at the other equally tired Orak men and grinned. “But we showed them that we could keep up.”
“Get yourself some water, then bring our dead here.”
One of the Ur Nammu began chanting a death song to consecrate the ground and prepare it to receive the bodies. Esk kar and his men stood and watched silently in the firelight until the brief ceremony ended.
Mesilim walked stiffly but on his own over to Esk kar. “You may put your men at this end of the pit to signify the direction from which you came. We’ll cover your dead with ours to protect them in the afterlife.”
“We thank you for honoring our dead,” Esk kar replied formally, then nodded to Sisuthros, who began moving the bodies into the ground. The Ur Nammu bodies followed, each corpse handled as gently as possible, legs straightened out and arms crossed over their chest. At last all the dead rested at the bottom of the pit.
Esk kar approached the end of the grave where his men lay, completely covered by the other bodies. In a loud voice he spoke the words that gave honor to the dead, calling out each man’s name and his deeds, so that the goddess Ishtar and great god Marduk would know to receive and honor true warriors.
When Esk kar stepped back, Mesilim strode to the other end and did the same, though his words lasted longer and included more details of the bravest. At last all the gods, demons, and shades were appeased. The men began refilling the hole, a process that took almost as long as the digging, because of the need to tamp down the earth as tightly as possible.
When they’d filled in the grave, the warriors walked their horses back and forth across the dirt to pack it even harder. By the time they fi nished, midnight approached, making it much too dangerous to try to leave the canyon. Esk kar’s men found a clear space as far away from the killing ground as possible. Everyone fell to the earth, wrapped in their horse blankets, and slept the sleep of the completely exhausted, all of them too tired to eat or worry about anyone slitting their throats in the middle of the night.
14
The morning sun woke Esk kar. He sat up with a start, then flinched in pain. Lifting his hand, he shaded his eyes and looked around the camp. His men were moving about, except
Zantar and Tammuz, who remained in their blankets. Mesilim’s healer had done his best for the boy’s arm, but his screams had echoed through the camp despite the wine poured into him. He’d fainted twice during the ordeal. Now the boy slept, but feverishly. Nothing more could be done. Tammuz would recover or die, assuming riding a horse didn’t fi nish him off.
Someone left a water skin at hand and Esk kar emptied it before he got to his feet, fighting the pain in his leg. He hobbled back and forth a few times, his teeth gritted, until the stiffness in his limbs lessened and he felt confident the leg wouldn’t give out. At least he didn’t need the crutch.
Esk kar checked the bandage on his arm. No fresh blood stained the crude dressing, though pain accompanied any sudden movement. In daylight he saw blood, dirt, and even worse covered his body. The rank smell turned his stomach.
“Morning, Captain.” Maldar walked over. “The barbarians brought in some more firewood. We’ll have fresh horsemeat soon.”
Bile rose in Esk kar’s throat at the thought of food and he had to swallow before he could speak. “I want to wash in the river. Bring me my horse.”
“Good idea, Captain. The rest of us have already cleaned up.”
The men had gone to the river and returned while he slept. Esk kar swore at his weakness.
Maldar returned leading the horse, then held it while Esk kar mounted cautiously. He rode slowly out of the valley, ignoring the throbbing in his thigh and the dizzy feeling in his head.
At the bank of the stream he dismounted, wincing as his leg took the sudden weight. He let himself fall into the slow — moving water, where he washed his body and his clothes at the same time. The effort exhausted him, so he lay back in the cold water until the last of the stink and dried blood faded away.
