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 fi rst 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 toward 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.
