In addition to the soldiers, the column included a dozen camp boys to act as servants to those who could afford to feed them. Five liverymen looked after the fifteen pack animals and the twenty horses, and three younger sons from Akkad’s leading merchants represented their father’s trading interests. They would help reestablish local trade wherever possible. Akkad’s ruling council had also assigned two scribes to help Eskkar.
They would record anything of interest and keep track of any goods or loot Eskkar and his men might acquire.
He hadn’t wanted to take the scribes, but the elders had insisted. How else, they had asked, could everything be accounted for? Eskkar had looked across the table at Trella, saw her nod her head, and gave in. Now he wondered if he had enough soldiers. It seemed such a small force to establish control of all the villages and farms north of Akkad.
“Did you hear anything more about Dilgarth?” Grond said, changing the subject.
“Another trader arrived just before sunset yesterday,” Eskkar said. “He claimed he saw other wayfarers being robbed near the village. There may be several bands of thieves attacking and robbing travelers on the road between here and Dilgarth.”
The small village of Dilgarth lay more than forty miles north of Akkad. Eskkar planned to pass through the place on their way to Bisitun, a much larger village that was his main destination. He intended to sweep the land clear of bandits and marauders between Akkad and Bisitun, to protect the hundreds of farmers and herders who produced the food that Akkad and its busy traders depended upon.
“Well, we should be able to finish off a handful of robbers easily enough,” Grond said.
“Yes, after fighting the barbarians, a few bandits shouldn’t present any problems,” Eskkar said. “And once we’ve taken control of the land around Bisitun, the countryside should start settling down.”
“I hope they brew some decent ale in Bisitun,” Grond said. “I’m thirsty already.”
“They do,” Eskkar said with a laugh. “Just don’t try and drink it all.”
The soldiers made good time that first day, the men glad to stretch their legs, out of the city and into the fresh air that already bore a hint of the autumn’s coming coolness. By the time they made their first camp, Eskkar relaxed enough to smile and joke with his men, enjoying the freedom of the trail and putting all thoughts of Akkad and its intrigues behind him.
In his heart, he felt glad to be away, free to be himself without worrying about what some merchant or tradesman would think about him.
For the last few months, he’d struggled with his changing role. No longer merely a soldier defending the village, Eskkar now had to rule nearly three thousand people, all of them demanding immediate attention to their particular problem. Nothing in his years of wandering had prepared him for such responsibility. Even with Trella’s help, the weight of constant decision-making strained his patience. Unlike the preparation for the siege, when he could just make military decisions, now every conflict-ing claim seemed to require endless hours of discussion, which invariably turned into arguing and complaining that left neither side satisfied.
Eskkar had believed he could deal with his new position, but in the last few weeks, doubt had crept in, and he found himself growing more and more irritable and short-tempered. And that, he realized, made dealing with everyone even more difficult. So he felt glad to put down that mantle, even temporarily, and deal with something familiar-like ridding the land of thieves and murderers.
Out here in the countryside, among his men, he could be a soldier once again. That satisfaction, combined with the fresh air, the rough-cooked food, and the tiredness from walking and riding all day, let him enjoy a good night’s sleep for the first time in weeks.
The next morning Eskkar rose before dawn, happy that his body remembered the old ways. He demanded the soldiers be on their way an hour after sunup, and threatened to leave anyone and anything behind that wasn’t ready. The men had scarcely enough time to eat a hasty meal, care for the animals, and pack their goods before the march resumed. Almost immediately, complaints of sore feet and tired muscles rang out as they continued their way north, still following the east bank of the great river Tigris.
Today Eskkar ranged ahead of the main group, accompanied by Grond and six of his horsemen. They rode more toward the east, away from the river and into the countryside. Eskkar wanted to see for himself the devastation the barbarians had caused. Everywhere the scattered homes and fields lay barren, the crops burned. The grass had just started to return, having first been burnt by the villagers to deny food and fod-der to the approaching enemy, and then the fresh growth overgrazed by the barbarian herds. This winter’s harvest would be small. Still, the farmers considered themselves fortunate. At least they’d have a chance to get enough of the precious and carefully preserved seeds planted in time for next season.
As they rode farther to the northeast the farms grew smaller and more isolated, and they encountered fewer people. Many fled at the sight of them. Others stood their ground, hands clenched nervously on crude weapons or farm tools. When they learned who Eskkar was, and that he meant them no harm, they relaxed their vigilance. From these farmers he learned that the small village of Dilgarth, now only a few dozen miles ahead, had in fact been captured by bandits more than a week ago. The tales of Dilgarth’s plight grew worse and worse as Eskkar’s band encountered more people wandering in the ravaged fields. His face turned grim once again.
Dispatching a rider to return to the main column and order them to speed up their pace, Eskkar and his men rode as hard as they could push the horses, alternating between a fast walk and a canter, toward the village of Dilgarth. The sun had moved well past noon when they rounded a bend in the river and saw the village less than a mile away. While they rested their horses, a party of armed men rode leisurely out of the village, heading north.
“Looks like they knew we were coming,” Grond commented. “Should we give chase?”
Eskkar stretched upright on his horse, counting the distant riders, his lips moving silently. Twelve men had ridden out, more than twice his own number and on fresh horses. “No, we’ll wait here until the rest of the men get here.” He could say that easily now, without having to worry some might think him afraid to fight. No one doubted his courage. And it would make a better impression on Dilgarth’s inhabitants if he entered with the whole troop.
It took another three hours before the rest of the soldiers arrived, breathing hard and complaining of the quickened pace. Eskkar gave them no rest. He entered the village at the head of his men an hour before sunset.
Dilgarth was a small place, with fewer than forty mud-and-reed houses, none with a second story. Eskkar had visited it several times in the last few years, tracking runaway slaves or thieves. Before the barbarians came, more than a hundred and fifty people lived here. All of those had fled their homes, most going to Akkad, then known as Orak, though many passed across the river or continued south. Some of those original inhabitants might have already returned, but most would have abandoned their homes for good.
Eskkar understood Dilgarth’s importance. The last sizable resting place before Akkad, the fields surrounding Dilgarth supported many crops, with soil almost as fertile as that surrounding Akkad. Perhaps as important, Dilgarth’s inhabitants had learned special skills in working with their principal harvest, flax, a plant grown not for food, but for its thin, durable fibers that could be woven into linen and other materials.
Before the invasion the local farmers and villagers had selected the finest fibers and woven them into quality linen cloth. The merchants in Akkad wanted to know when the supply of linen would be restored. The barbarian incursion had created a shortage of skilled craftsmen who could fashion linen into fine tunics, dresses, or skirts. Dilgarth had thrived for years before the barbarians swept through the land. There was no reason it shouldn’t be prosperous again.
As Eskkar and his soldiers rode in, less than a dozen men stood scattered about, watching the visitors in silence as they filed into the village.
None greeted them. Those few that met Eskkar’s eyes looked sullen or suspicious. Everyone’s clothing looked ragged and filthy, covering bodies thin from lack of food. Many had bruises on their faces or bodies. He didn’t see any women or children.
Eskkar rode down the narrow lane until he reached the tiny marketplace, located at the rear of the village. He saw no carts with goods for sale, no cooking fires accompanied by the smell of roasting meat, not even any dogs running loose to yap incessantly and nip at the heels of his men’s horses. Once the dwellers of Dilgarth had lived happy and content with their lives. Now its few inhabitants had little more than rags to cover their gaunt bodies. Those who possessed anything more had lost it, either in the initial barbarian onslaught or to the departed bandits.
