touching Shulat’s body.
“Well, Shulat, are you getting thirsty yet?” The man had a fresh bruise on his face, no doubt a reminder from Drakis to keep silent. “It’s time for us to talk about your brother.”
“I’ll tell you nothing, Eskkar. I’m not afraid to die.”
“As I told Utu, your death is certain. Only how you die is to be decided.”
Hamati came out of the house, carrying the wineskin in his hand, and stood next to Eskkar. “The other one is dead, Captain.”
“You see, Shulat, your man, Utu, is dead,” Eskkar said. “At least he died full of wine, to ease his pain. Are you going to tell me about your brother?”
“I’ll be avenged when my brother takes your head.” Shulat spat the words at him as a curse. “He likes to kill soft farmers and tradesmen.”
Eskkar smiled at the man’s words but detected the first hint of fear behind the bravado. “I’m a barbarian myself, Shulat. And my soft villagers took your men easily enough. So don’t be so sure of your revenge.” Eskkar turned to his second in command. “Hamati, this man needs to change his ways. Stake him out here in the square. We’ll let the women have some time with him.”
Looking up, Eskkar saw Nisaba standing in the shadows, watching him. Her women had already stripped Utu’s corpse. Now the loaded cart stood there, awaiting only Shulat’s body. Nearby, the rest of the women, eager for the taste of meat, moved about a little faster and worked swiftly to build cooking fires for the butchered horses. Eskkar walked over to Nisaba’s side. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, noble.” Her hands fingered a small, leaf-shaped knife she’d taken from one of the dead. Blood streaked the dull copper blade.
Eskkar saw the gesture. “No knives, Nisaba. And just his hands and feet, for now. Do you understand?” Working only on the man’s hands and feet helped avoid an untimely demise.
“Yes, noble, I understand.” She looked toward the group of women, then back at Shulat. “Shulat killed Nitari’s husband in front of her and her children, then took her. And there was…”
“Enough, Nisaba,” Eskkar cut her off. No doubt the man had taken every woman in the village. “Just you and two women, to start with. He is not to die, only to feel pain. Can you do that?”
“Yes, noble.” Her hand gripped tighter on the knife she held.
“I mean it, Nisaba. If one of your women gets carried away… I don’t want him to die yet. You can have your revenge after he talks. Make sure they truly understand, Nisaba.”
He walked over to Hamati, who supervised his men as they finished staking the prisoner. They’d cut his garment off, then spread-eagled him in the dirt, with his arms and legs spread wide apart. A hammer and some wood stakes had come from the blacksmith’s stall, and the men pounded four stakes deep into the ground to anchor the ropes that secured him.
Eskkar stood over him. “Make sure the ropes are tight, Hamati. I don’t want him moving around.” If the man could move, even a little, an acci-dental death might occur. That reminded Eskkar of something else.
“And break his thumbs first.” Eskkar had once seen a man staked out like Shulat grab a woman’s hand and snap her wrist. There was no sense taking any chances. With the man’s thumbs broken, he couldn’t grab anything. “Keep a close watch on the women. I don’t want him to die.”
“Yes, Captain,” Hamati answered patiently. He waited until his men had Shulat securely fastened, then knelt on Shulat’s right wrist, letting his knee pin the prisoner’s hand to the ground. Shulat clenched his fist tightly, but another soldier added his own weight, and together they forced apart Shulat’s hand, ignoring his curses and struggles. It took some effort, but Hamati finally grasped the man’s thumb. A quick twist, accompanied by a popping sound, and the deed was done. The pain forced a low moan from the man, even as it weakened his resistance. The other thumb went much easier.
Eskkar looked down at Shulat. Eskkar knew his own presence would give the man a reason to resist, so he went back into the house and again climbed the ladder to the roof. Up there, a slight breeze blew and the air seemed free of the scent of blood and urine that lingered below. Mitrac turned as Eskkar arrived. “Nothing to see, Captain. Are more bandits in the hills?”
“I don’t think so, but there’s a large force at Bisitun and I don’t know what they’re up to. I want to get back to our men as soon as possible.” He gazed out over the hills, taking his time, letting his eyes slowly traverse every point of the horizon, then moving them back and forth over the intervening landscape. Eskkar knew well how to search the land for enemies.
Everything looked peaceful. He decided there was nothing more he could do. His twenty horsemen would arrive later tonight, and tomorrow they’d link up with Sisuthros and the rest of the soldiers.
“Stay and watch until it’s too dark, Mitrac. Hopefully our men will return soon after.”
Mitrac nodded, and Eskkar went down the ladder. One of Dilgarth’s women had cleaned the room and the signs of Utu’s passing had vanished.
Reentering the square, Eskkar heard Shulat’s first cry of pain. Two women worked on his feet, each sitting on one of Shulat’s legs. The women held stones in each hand, and they had started crushing his toes by smashing the rocks together. Nisaba knelt on Shulat’s right wrist, doing the same to the fingers of his hand. Eskkar noticed that her hands seemed as strong as those of the two younger women.
With all the small bones in his toes and fingers crushed or broken, the pain from each subsequent blow would increase, and soon the man’s extremities would be shooting waves of pain throughout his body. Eskkar lingered only long enough to make sure the women didn’t get carried away, and that Hamati kept his eyes on them.
Eskkar left the square and walked back to the main gate. One soldier stood guard there, sitting on one of the carts, bow across his lap, and looking out through the gate toward the horizon. All of his fighters looked tired enough. They’d had little sleep last night as they prepared for the ambush. Then they’d worked in the fields during the day and finished with a hard fight in the afternoon. It wouldn’t take much distraction for them to relax or fall asleep at their posts.
Nonetheless, the guard seemed alert. Eskkar spoke to him, reminding the man to remain vigilant. Eskkar knew the more time he spent with each man, the more he showed his trust in each of them, the more likely each soldier would do his duty properly.
Even before Eskkar returned to the square, he heard Shulat’s screams.
Five other village women stood a few paces away, just watching, or perhaps waiting their turn. The women had finished with Shulat’s toes and fingers, and had moved up to his knees and wrists. They had fallen into a rhythm.
First one would smash at him with the stones, then pause to let the waves of pain shoot through his body. Then the second woman would strike, then the third, then back to the first. Soon they would begin on his genitals, and by then, Eskkar expected Shulat to begin talking.
Eskkar stood at the man’s head and watched for a moment. He’d seen many men tortured. Five years ago, in the days of his own banditry, he might have been the one staked out and put to the torture. Eskkar nodded to Hamati and walked a few steps away, out of earshot of Shulat.
Hamati joined him. “He’s a tough one, Captain. But I think he’ll talk.”
“Just don’t let the women get carried away. He’ll be hoping they’ll kill him.”
“Nisaba understands what you want. Shulat raped both of them, and killed one’s husband. Nisaba is keeping the women under control. I’ll keep a close eye on them.”
“We both will,” Eskkar said. He walked back to the prisoner, folded his arms, and stood there. He took no pleasure from the man’s suffering. It needed to be done. The man had information Eskkar needed, and Shulat would have to give it up. The hard part would be separating the truth from the lies when he did begin to speak.
The man resisted as long as anyone could, before he began to scream for mercy. By then his hands, feet, and knees were broken, swollen, and oozing blood. Nisaba worked alone now, kneeling between his spread legs, cupping his testicles in her hand. Twice she had clenched her fist, each time extracting a long scream of agony from her victim as he thrashed helplessly against his bonds. Now she looked toward Hamati and Eskkar, and waited.
Eskkar picked up the stool and sat down near Shulat’s head. “Are you ready to tell me about your brother?” Before the man could answer, Eskkar went on. “Would you like some wine, Shulat?”
Hamati already knelt on the other side, the wineskin in his hands, and he shook the vessel under the prisoner’s nose for a moment. Shulat’s eyes stayed wide with pain and hatred, but they followed the wineskin as
