clear space directly under the stairs. Eskkar went to one knee from the jump, but he rose up swinging the big sword as the fi rst of Korthac’s men rushed toward him. Grond shouted a war cry and led the way down the steps, the others following.
With a weapon in each hand and the battle frenzy upon him, Eskkar attacked Korthac’s suddenly disheartened followers.
The long sword struck one man across the face, and Eskkar parried a counterstroke from another attacker with the short sword in his left hand, then struck again with his right, wielding the heavy blade with renewed energy. The unexpected counterattack unnerved the Egyptians, despite their greater numbers; two of them bolted for the open door, and the rest hesitated. Grond’s war cry boomed again within the room, and Eskkar heard the snap-hiss as the last of Mitrac’s arrows struck his target.
Within a dozen heartbeats, four men had died, and the rest of Korthac’s men fled into the courtyard, driven back by half their number. More men gathered there, getting ready to join the assault. Nevertheless, many heard Eskkar’s words and more than a few of Korthac’s men began repeating that Korthac was dead.
One of the Akkadians took advantage of the enemy’s confusion to slam the front door shut and drop the bar across it.
“The servants’ entrance… secure the door.” Grond gave the order, though his voice sounded weak.
Eskkar faced Grond and saw blood covering his bodyguard’s neck and chest; the man was swaying on his feet.
“Mitrac,” Eskkar said, “the other door… better see if it’s closed and barred.”
The master archer raced down the corridor to bar the second entrance, while the other two archers moved from body to body, wrenching arrows out of the dead to replenish their quivers. Eskkar put his arm around Grond’s waist and guided him toward the stairs. “Rest here a moment,” Eskkar ordered.
Taking a deep breath, Eskkar forced himself to control his shaking arms. He had only three men who could still fight. If the Egyptians forced the outer door, Eskkar could retreat to the upper rooms.
He took stock of the situation. He’d reached Trella, and both she and the baby were safe. And captured Korthac. They could hold the house for the moment. Now everything depended on Bantor and his men. If they failed, if they couldn’t come to Eskkar’s rescue in time, Eskkar planned to use Korthac to bargain his way out. If that didn’t work, if the Egyptians broke in, Eskkar would kill Trella and the child with his own hand, before falling on his sword. No matter what happened, he couldn’t let either of them fall into these foreigners’ hands alive.
He shook the gloomy thought away. He wasn’t dead yet. They’d just have to hold out until help arrived. “Shove that table against the door,”
Eskkar ordered, reaching down to pick up a spear. It was time to get ready for the next fight.
26
Hathor woke with a start, the unexpected but always familiar sound still echoing in his ears. Instinctively he grasped the sword that lay on the bed next to him. The noise that had awakened him resolved itself into a mixture of men shouting and the occasional clash of bronze on bronze, the din rising and falling, but steadily growing louder and more urgent. Already on his feet, he moved to the window, leaning outside to hear what was happening.
The last of his sleep disappeared as he peered through the darkness toward the adjoining dwelling. The noise came from Korthac’s courtyard, separated from the one Hathor and Takany occupied by only a single high wall that extended to either side of the main structure. A man screamed in pain, the cry of agony rising up over the shouts and curses. Men were dying just beyond the wall, and that meant someone had attacked Korthac and his guards. No alarm had sounded, but fighting had erupted… His mind finally made sense of the shouts. “Eskkar has returned!”
Hathor felt a chill pass over him. Eskkar! He was supposed to be dead.
“Osiris take us all,” he swore, pausing only to pull on his tunic before dash-ing out of the bedroom.
“Eskkar has returned… let none escape!” The shouts from Korthac’s courtyard could now be heard even inside the dwelling.
“Takany!” Hathor shouted, stepping into the common room. Korthac’s second in command slept in the next bedroom. “Takany, get up!” Hathor shouted into the darkness, moving inside the man’s chamber.
Takany lay in his bed, still snoring and besotted from last night’s drinking and wenching. He’d spent the first part of the evening at Zenobia’s, terrorizing her and her women, and forcing all of them to pleasure him.
Hathor had to remain awake until his superior returned, and Takany had brought one of Zenobia’s women with him, leading the shivering girl naked through the streets. Now she sat up, no doubt frightened and confused by Hathor’s interruption and the noise outside.
“What… what’s happening?…” Fear sounded in her voice.
Ignoring the wide-eyed girl, Hathor grabbed Takany’s arm, shaking the man out of his sleep. “Get up! There’s fighting next door.” Without waiting, Hathor moved toward the doorway. The half-dozen soldiers sleeping in the house had already gotten to their feet, fumbling for weapons in the dark and asking each other what to do.
“Sound the alarm,” Hathor ordered, pushing his way through the gathering crowd. “Get your swords and follow me to Korthac’s.”
The front entrance of this residence opened directly into the lane that provided access to Korthac’s compound. Hathor ran down the passage, stumbling once in the darkness and wishing he’d had time to put on his sandals. Behind him, a trumpet at last began to sound its warning, the shrill blast repeating the notes that would summon every soldier.
The guards supposed to be standing sentry at Korthac’s gate were lying in the dust, arrows protruding from their bodies. Clenching his sword, Hathor pushed his way through the gate.
Someone had lit a torch, and in its flickering light Hathor saw half a dozen bodies strewn about the courtyard, arrows jutting out at odd angles.
“Hathor,” a soldier called out. “Amun’s dead… men forced their way through the gate… they got inside the house and drove us out. They’ve archers…”
Amun had been in charge of the soldiers stationed in the courtyard.
“Enough,” Hathor said. “Get your men together and make sure they’ve all their weapons. Guard the doors. Don’t let anyone leave.”
“What’s going on?” Takany’s booming voice cut through the confusion. He hadn’t bothered to put on a tunic, and now he stood naked and barefoot, a sword in his hand.
The soldier had to repeat the story while Hathor twitched with impatience.
“You say this Eskkar is inside, alone with Korthac?”
Yes, that’s what he just said, Hathor wanted to shout. But he knew better than to challenge Takany’s authority, even if the man’s thought process was as slow as an ox. Precious moments passed while Takany sorted things out.
“You fools,” Takany said, his rage displacing any remaining trace of last night’s wine. “You let a handful of men drive you from the house!”
He grabbed a man backing away from the house and struck him with the flat of his sword. “Get in there and fight,” he ordered. “Hathor, gather the men. We’ll break down the door to the upper room and free Korthac.”
Before anyone could start moving, a man burst in through the gate, and every man’s eyes turned toward him. “Takany… Hathor,” he shouted, stumbling as he reached their side, and trying to catch his breath. “Men are attacking the main gate. They’ve captured one of the towers and barricaded themselves in. They’re shouting that Eskkar has returned to kill us all.”
“Order the men from the gate to fall back and meet us at the barracks,”
Hathor said, facing Takany. “We should head there as well. We need to collect all our forces in one place. Then we can…”
“Leave Korthac! Abandon the gate?” Takany shouted, as if disbeliev-ing his ears. “If they get the gate open, we’ll have a horde of men pouring into the city.”
“Eskkar’s soldiers are already in the city,” Hathor countered,” and our men are scattered all about. We need to get the men together and…”
