He sat down under a small tree barely large enough to provide a bit of shade. Hamati’s men dragged the two prisoners in front of Eskkar. Both of them were bleeding and covered with dust. They were forced to their knees, the hot sun directly in their faces. No doubt they were even more thirsty than Eskkar. They had ridden a wide circle to return to Dilgarth, where they found death waiting for them instead of food and water.
“What are your names?” Eskkar asked sharply.
The wounded man answered immediately. “I am called Utu, noble.”
His voice cracked as he spoke, and he swayed a little from side to side.
Loss of blood had drained the color from his face. “Water, noble, can I have…”
“Keep silent, you dog of a coward!” His leader spat the words at him, though his own voice croaked harshly as well. Before anyone could stop him, the bandit leader threw his shoulder against Utu’s body, knocking him into the dirt and wrenching another long moan of pain from the wounded man who lay twitching in the dust.
This time Hamati kicked the leader with force, using the heel of his sandal. Once. Twice. And a third time, until the man let out a moan through clenched teeth.
“Bring Utu into the house, Hamati, and give him some water. Go easy with him. Keep the other here, and keep him quiet! ” Eskkar stood, picked up the stool, and carried it back into the house.
Inside, the mud walls and roof provided some shelter from the heat of the day. Eskkar sat down again while Hamati and one of his men carried Utu inside, then held a ladle of water to his lips. Eskkar studied the man while he drank. His face had turned as white as unleavened bread, and his wound still bled, though not as rapidly as before. The man had lost much blood, and Eskkar guessed he didn’t have long to live. Utu finished the water and asked for more. Eskkar nodded, then waited while the wounded man emptied a second ladle.
“Utu, you’re in pain, and you’ll probably be dead within the hour. I want you to tell me about your leader and what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. If you do, you can have plenty of wine and water to comfort yourself. If not, you will be put to the torture. I can even hand you over to the women outside and let them toy with you. They won’t be in such a rush this time.”
A sob came from the man, and tears ran from his eyes. “Then I’m to die?” He whispered the words in a trembling voice.
“You are dying, Utu. The arrow struck deep and hard. Nothing can save you, not even the gods. Only how you die is left for you to choose.”
Eskkar spoke with the certainty of one who had seen many die before.
Then he waited, saying nothing. The dying man needed some time to grasp his plight.
It took Utu only moments to decide. “Wine, noble! For the pain.”
“Untie his hands and put something under his head,” Eskkar ordered.
He had done this many times before. Tell them the truth, that they were dying or would be put to death. It didn’t matter which. In that state of mind, most wounded men would appreciate every comfort. Hamati untied the man, then eased him down on the dirt floor, with his head elevated by a folded blanket. Hamati brought over the last of the soldier’s wine and held the wineskin to Utu’s lips, letting the man drink until he coughed and spat up some of the harsh liquid.
“Now tell me, Utu,” Eskkar asked, “what is the name of your leader, and how many others have been raiding the lands?”
“Shulat, noble. His name is Shulat.” Utu coughed again, but cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He rolled his eyes toward Hamati.
Eskkar nodded again, and Hamati dribbled more wine into the man’s mouth. “How many others, Utu?” Eskkar repeated.
Utu swallowed twice before he could speak, and even then he could barely raise his voice above a whisper. “There is another band of men up north, in Bisitun. Many men there… Shulat is the brother of their leader, Ninazu. He rules in Bisitun.” Utu’s voice gave out and he looked pitifully at Hamati, who gave him another mouthful of wine. “Ninazu… Ninazu wanted to know about the lands to the south, and Shulat wanted to raid the farms, so we came here a few weeks ago.” The man paused to take a labored breath, and his eyes closed for a long moment.
“Give him more wine,” Eskkar said, while he used the time to think.
Bisitun was a much larger village five or six days march farther north from Dilgarth. Bisitun sat on the northern edge of the lands that bordered Akkad, right at the point where the Tigris turned sharply north. It marked the outlying boundary of the lands Eskkar intended to bring under his rule.
He planned to leave Sisuthros in charge of Bisitun, after they finished ridding the surrounding countryside of bandits and marauders. With Akkad and Bisitun working together, more than half of the best farmlands on this side of the Tigris would be under Eskkar’s control. Eskkar’s plan, worked out with the elders in Akkad, depended on securing Bisitun.
“How many men does this Ninazu have with him in Bisitun?” The man whimpered, but said nothing. Eskkar placed his hand on Utu’s good shoulder and shook him gently, knowing even a small movement would send a wave of pain through the man and keep him conscious. “How many men, Utu?” He spoke sharply, to make sure his words penetrated Utu’s weakening mind. “Tell me! Or there’ll be no more wine!”
Utu rolled his eyes toward Eskkar, his face a mixture of fear and pain.
But the dying man wanted the wine, wanted anything that would ease the pain and the fright of dying. “Seventy or eighty… maybe ninety… I don’t know… maybe more.” His voice trailed off a little.
“Do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Utu’s eyes closed again, and he didn’t answer. Eskkar looked at Hamati and a few more drops of wine were carefully dripped into the man’s mouth. Another spasm of coughing took Utu and he choked on the wine. It took time before his breathing slowed and he could speak again.
Eskkar waited patiently. “Utu, do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Eskkar had to lean close to hear the man’s words.
“Ninazu plans… to stay in Bisitun. He says the village is his now.
From there… he rules over the land.”
Eskkar ground his teeth in anger. Another petty ruler had arisen. With eighty or ninety determined and well- armed men, it would have been easy to take control of Bisitun, already devastated by the Alur Meriki’s passage.
Once in power, Ninazu’s force would grow steadily each day, as more and more desperate men joined him, either out of a desire for loot or simply as a way to get something to eat. Again Eskkar silently cursed the barbarians and their passage. Whatever they touched, they left in chaos. He had expected to find problems in and around Bisitun, but not a village full of fighting men who surpassed him in numbers.
Eskkar had more questions, but Utu’s mind wandered now, his voice weak as he struggled to breathe. The vague answers came slower and slower. Blood seeped into the dirt underneath the man. Utu’s face looked even whiter than before and now a bluish tinge showed on his lips. Finally the only word Eskkar could get out of him was “wine.”
Hamati, still holding the wineskin, looked at Eskkar, who noted the nearly empty wineskin and shook his head. “No, we may need the wine for the other one. Give him water. He won’t know the difference.”
Eskkar stood up, picked up his stool, and walked back outside. The sun still shone bright in the late afternoon sky, and he had to shade his eyes when he left the house.
The square bustled with activity. Drakis, one of Hamati’s men, sat on the ground next to the prisoner, to make sure he stayed alive and to keep him quiet. Before Eskkar could speak, Drakis began. “I’ve posted a guard by the main entrance, Captain, and Mitrac keeps watch from the roof,” indicating the house Eskkar had just left. “The bodies are being loaded on a cart and will be dumped in the river. The rest of the men are helping the women butcher the dead horses or gather firewood. We’ll have plenty of meat for the next few days.”
As Eskkar watched, two soldiers lifted the last naked body and tossed it onto the cart. They’d already stripped the dead of whatever clothing and valuables they possessed. He moved farther away from the house and looked up to the roof.
“Mitrac!” he called out. “Do you see anything?”
The young archer stepped into view. “Nothing, Captain. The fields are empty. Not even any travelers on the road.”
It would be too late in the day for the few travelers brave enough to venture forth. “Good. Keep a sharp watch, Mitrac,” Eskkar said. He walked back to the shade of the tree, put down the stool and sat, his feet almost
