Without some hope for the future, these villagers might abandon their homes and take to the roads, perhaps even head toward Akkad. His city needed tradesmen and craftsmen, plus a steady supply of flax, not more refugees.
He took all this in as his horse reached the village well. He remained astride until his men, horses, and pack animals filled most of the square.
The village’s center had barely enough room for all of them, but they stood patiently, waiting for his order that would give them leave to put down their burdens. Unbidden, Trella’s words came into his mind. “As you won over the hearts of your soldiers, you must win over those whom you seek to rule.”
Eskkar turned toward Sisuthros, his second in command, standing in front of the men, awaiting his orders. “Sisuthros, rest the men here, until you fi nd places for them to sleep. Keep part of the square clear.” His eyes turned to Grond. “Gather all the villagers and bring them to me. I want to hear what’s happened to them since they returned to Dilgarth. Don’t alarm them, just bring them.”
His order to rest the soldiers, rather than dismiss them for the night, meant they could put down their burdens and sit on the ground, but little else. Eskkar didn’t want them wandering around, poking into people’s houses, frightening the villagers even further until he knew exactly what new calamity had taken place in Dilgarth.
He swung down from the horse, handing the halter to one of the camp boys, as Sisuthros began shouting orders. Some of the soldiers left the ranks, taking the horses to the crude corral to water and feed them.
Sisuthros gave further instructions, and the majority of the soldiers, along with their animals and supplies, wedged themselves around the sides of the square, leaving the center empty.
Eskkar paced over to the rough stone well in the center of the marketplace and stood there, waiting. His mind tried to sort out what had gone on here. Except on the battlefield, where he trusted his instincts, he no longer made decisions in haste. He had learned to use whatever time he had to think things through. That included understanding what he wanted to accomplish, and what words he would use to obtain his goal. So he stood there, imagining what had befallen the village, using the time to prepare and anticipate what he would do after he heard their story.
By the time Grond and a few soldiers fi nished searching the huts and rounding up all the inhabitants, Eskkar had his thoughts in hand. Grond escorted the last few stragglers into the market just as Eskkar ended his count. Thirty-six people stood before him. Fourteen were men or older boys fit for manual labor. Many of the women shook with fear as they gazed at the crowd of soldiers surrounding them. Others had the look of hopelessness on their downcast faces. Eskkar noted the signs of repeated rape and beatings easily enough. He didn’t see any tears. Days or weeks of weeping had dried their eyes. The women had reached the point where even death might look inviting.
“Who speaks for the village?” he asked, keeping his voice calm. Silence greeted his words, and he repeated the question.
“Those who speak for the village are all dead, noble.” The words belonged to an old woman, gray-haired and stooped from laboring in the fields, almost invisible in the center of the crowd. A little girl of three or four seasons clung fearfully to her hand.
“Are there any village elders, then?”
“All dead as well, noble.” Her voice sounded weary, without any emotion, but her gaze met his without fear.
Eskkar scanned the crowd but every face stayed downcast, no one willing to say anything. He felt his patience wearing thin but kept his temper as he walked toward them. They shrank out of his way until he stood in front of the old woman. “And what is your name, elder?” Eskkar kept his voice low and his words polite.
“I am called Nisaba, noble one. As for these others, they are all afraid to speak to you, lest they be killed by the bandits when they return. They said they would come back as soon as you are gone.”
“But you’re not afraid, Nisaba?”
“They have already killed my two sons. My life is finished, and I am too old for their sport. The most they can do is kill me.”
“No one is going to kill you, Nisaba, I promise you that. You are under my protection now.”
He took her free hand and led her back to the well, the child following along, eyes wide and still holding fast to the old woman’s hand. “Sit down, elder.” He unslung his sword from his back, then joined her on the ground, sitting on the dirt in front of her and placing the scabbard flat across his knees. “Do you know who I am?”
She took her time answering him, as she gathered what was left of her ragged dress about her. “You are the Noble Eskkar, and, for now, the ruler of Orak.”
He couldn’t resist a smile at her use of the words “for now.” In the last few months he had often thought the same thing. “It is no longer called Orak, Nisaba. Now it is the City of Akkad.”
“Orak… Akkad… it makes no difference, noble one. It was called Orak when I was a child, and I see no need to change the names of things.”
Eskkar tugged at the thin beard on his chin. Trella had suggested the change of names, from Orak to Akkad, to help the people identify themselves with Eskkar and a new beginning. Eskkar had warned her that the switch might not be as smooth out in the countryside as within Akkad’s walls.
“Well, elder, we’ll talk more of that later. For now, you are the elder of the village of Dilgarth and you will speak for the village.” He lifted his eyes over her head to watch the reaction of the villagers. “Is there any other that thinks he should be the village elder?”
No one challenged his decision. “Nisaba, Dilgarth is under the protection of the City of Akkad, and all here will obey the laws of Akkad from now on.” Eskkar raised his voice, and addressed Dilgarth’s inhabitants.
“Akkad’s soldiers will soon clear the land of bandits, and you and your families will be safe in your shops and on your farms. The trade of flax and other goods will resume with Akkad, and, as before, you will be fairly paid for your goods. If you have complaints, bring them to your village elder,” he nodded toward Nisaba, “and she will present them to the soldiers stationed here or bring them to Akkad. If necessary, I will make the final decision. The customs of Akkad will apply to all equally, and Nisaba and the soldiers will see that they are enforced fairly.”
Eskkar felt glad to have that formality over with, though he doubted many understood what it really meant. Not that it mattered. Over the next few months, everyone in Dilgarth will soon appreciate the stability and security Akkad could provide. He returned his gaze to the new village elder.
“Now, tell me about the bandits that rode off when we arrived.”
The story came out slowly, as Eskkar’s commanders gathered close around their leader, anxious to hear the tale. The rest of the soldiers strained to hear Nisaba’s soft words, and for a long time the only other sound came from the occasional movement of one of the horses crowded together across the square.
Two months ago, the villagers began returning to Dilgarth after the barbarian migration had moved on, slipping back to their houses by ones and twos as they started to rebuild their homes and look to their crops and animals. They had rejoiced when they heard that the invaders had been defeated and driven off from Akkad, and even more farmers and craftsmen had returned.
But a little less than two weeks ago, while Eskkar and his men remained locked behind their walls, still afraid to venture forth until the barbarians moved out of striking distance from the city, a band of about twenty bandits had ridden into Dilgarth in the middle of the night, forcing the small fence and killing any who opposed them. By dawn, they had taken what women they wanted and looted the village.
Nisaba thought they might move on after a few days of pleasure, but these raiders seemed content to have the villagers gather and prepare food for them while they enjoyed their wives and daughters. The bandits remained in the village, a few now and then riding out on small raiding parties, looking to rob any farmers trying to work their lands or searching for any weak or isolated travelers on the road to Akkad.
The intruders had been cunning enough to kill any who attempted to escape to Akkad, and so only rumors had reached the city of their activity, though enough travelers had been robbed and attacked on the roads. The bandits had commandeered all the local food while the villagers went hungry. This morning, a little after dawn, a rider brought word of Eskkar’s approach. They had taken their time before riding off, insolently waiting until the soldiers from Akkad had been spotted less than a mile from the village.
When Nisaba finished, the crowd remained silent. Eskkar knew that everyone, soldiers and villagers alike, waited to see what he would do. Not two full days’ march from Akkad, and already he had a problem. Dilgarth was
