Twice each year, traders from Akkad and Bisitun met with bands of Ur Nammu. The warriors had plenty of gold, usually taken from the dead bodies of their enemies, for which they had little use, and they needed the tools and higher-quality bronze weapons that the villagers could produce more efficiently. The trade benefited both the horse clan and the Akkadians. But Eskkar knew how fragile such agreements could be. A slur on some warrior’s honor, an insulting glance, a drunken brawl, any incident could trigger an outbreak of raiding and looting along Akkad’s northern border. And right now Eskkar needed an ally, not another problem to distract him from the enemy in the south.
On the afternoon of the third day, the Akkadians saw three riders watching them from a distant hilltop. Eskkar gave the order to halt. The horses could use a brief rest, and the lack of movement, either to attack or flee, evidenced the newcomer’s peaceful intentions.
“Is that them?” Hathor, like most of the horsemen riding with Eskkar, had never encountered any of the steppe warriors before.
“Could be,” Eskkar said, “could be anyone.” He turned to their guide, a leader of ten from Bisitun named Meskalum. “How close are we to the meeting ground?”
Meskalum moved his horse forward to join the leaders. “Not far now, captain. We should be there by sundown.”
Eskkar made the calculation. About ten or twelve more miles, if the guide didn’t miss a landmark and get lost. Even after all these years, he still disliked following someone else’s lead. But he had no choice. No man could master every trail and landmark in such a vast land. “Then it’s not likely there would be any other bands of warriors nearby. Break out the standard.”
Grond pulled the yellow streamer, as long as a man was tall, from his sack. Meskalum fastened it to the tip of his bow. The wind lifted the cloth and sent it billowing.
“Everyone keep your eyes open,” Eskkar said. “It’s an old barbarian trick to keep your attention on one band while another slips up on you from behind. Meskalum, take the point.”
With the guide out front, Eskkar set the pace at an easy canter. He didn’t want to tire the horses, since one never knew if they would be needed to run or fight. And whether they reached the agreed upon place by sundown or not didn’t matter. Meetings like this, arranged so long in advance and through so many intermediaries over great distances, could never be exact as to time. Five, even ten days early or late would be considered normal.
The riders continued the journey and, after a time, the horsemen on the hillside matched their pace and direction. As the sun descended, the two groups of riders began to converge.
“Looks like they know where we’re headed,” Grond observed. He’d fought against men such as these twice before, and had a healthy respect for their fighting skills.
“Let’s hope they’re not getting ready to ambush us,” Hathor said. “All this empty land — no villages or farms — makes me nervous.”
Everyone remained alert, and Eskkar stopped twice more, to study the land and the obvious ambush sites. A little before sundown they topped a hill and saw a meandering stream, bordered with willow trees. Beneath their shade, a thick belt of grass grew down to the water’s edge. Two tents marked a campsite, and the blackened remains of a fire pit showed even from the top of the hill. A small herd of horses, penned in by a rope corral and guarded by a mounted rider, gave Eskkar a quick count of the warriors. He halted the troop once again while he examined the terrain ahead.
“Twenty, maybe,” Grond said, coming to the same conclusion. “Maybe twenty-five, counting the three behind us.”
By then the Akkadians had been spotted by the warriors in the camp. Within moments, a yellow standard fastened to a lance waved at them.
Eskkar grunted in relief. “That’s the Ur Nammu. My thanks to you, Meskalum.” Whether the guide knew the land as well as he claimed, or had just gotten lucky, he deserved a word of praise in front of his companions.
They cantered down the hill. The three warriors behind them swung wide around the Akkadians, and raced recklessly toward the camp, their horses flinging clods of dirt high into the air, shouts floating across the land as they urged on their mounts.
Eskkar smiled at the display of horsemanship. In his youth he might have attempted such a ride, but no longer. A rider needed to be astride his mount ten hours a day for years to master that kind of riding. As the Akkadians drew near, a warrior separated from the group and walked toward them. When they approached within fifty paces, Eskkar swung down from his horse.
“Wait here a moment,” he said, then moved toward the approaching warrior.
“Greetings, Subutai, chief of the Ur Nammu.”
“Welcome to our camp, Eskkar of Akkad.”
The two men clasped arms in the way of the warrior, then paced side by side back to the camp. Eskkar waved his men forward. Subutai had marked a place for them about two hundred paces from the tents. The Akkadians would have easy access to the river without getting too close to his own camp.
Eskkar and his men tended to their horses first, making sure the animals were watered in the stream, and the Akkadians used the one rope they had brought with them to make a rough corral of their own, winding the cord around two willow trees and a bush. Not much more was needed to keep the mounts penned in. With plenty of water and grass to eat, they weren’t likely to stray.
With the horses taken care of, Eskkar washed his hands and face in the stream, another gesture of politeness. To meet with a clan chief was a serious matter, and it would not do to appear covered with sweat and dirt. Eskkar drank his fill from the stream, but shook his head at Hathor’s offer of a drink from one of the two wineskins they’d brought with them.
“You’ll come with me, Hathor. By custom, each clan leader brings one subcommander with him, so that there may be no misunderstanding or forgetting of what is said.”
They strode across the grass to the Ur Nammu campsite, where Subutai and another warrior waited for them. Subutai led the way upstream to a small patch of grass a hundred paces from the river. The two leaders sat facing each other. Unlike villagers, who might talk half a day before getting down to business, barbarians preferred to take care of serious matters first.
Meanwhile, warriors from both sides watched the proceedings with interest. The two Ur Nammu warriors eyed Hathor with curiosity. Probably neither had ever seen someone from the land of Egypt.
Eskkar introduced the Egyptian as his subcommander, then faced Subutai’s commander.
“It’s good to see you again, Fashod,” Eskkar said, nodding at Subutai’s second in command. “Have your men been in camp here long?”
Fashod, caught by surprise, couldn’t prevent a smile from crossing his face. “Only three days, Lord Eskkar. And I am honored that you remember me at all.”
“I always try to remember brave men who have fought at my side,” Eskkar said. In truth, he had to strain his wits to recall the man’s name when he first saw him. Two years was a long time, despite Trella’s constant admonition to try and memorize every man’s face and name.
Eskkar explained that Hathor didn’t speak the language of the steppes. That proved to be no problem, as Subutai and Fashod both spoke the language of the dirt-eaters well enough.
“Your wits remain quick, Eskkar,” Subutai said, nodding in satisfaction. A compliment to one of his men reflected on him as well. “Your mighty city grows stronger each day, and even in the far north we hear of Akkad’s power.”
“You have grown in strength, Subutai.” The last time Eskkar had seen the warrior he’d been thin and undernourished. Now firm muscle covered his frame, the result of long hours on the back of a horse and plenty of meat in his diet. “And I hear your people have increased as well.”
“We are much stronger, Eskkar. Now there are almost two hundred warriors under my standard. In another ten years, we’ll be almost as strong as we were in the past.” He smiled at the prospect. “The Ur Nammu clan has grown as well. After the fighting ended, there were many women without husbands or fathers abandoned in these lands, and these have sought our protection. Now there are many children playing around the campfires.”
“Then I am glad for my friend,” Eskkar said. “Perhaps I can offer a way to help you increase your strength even faster.”
“I wondered what brought you so far north, even before the next trade gathering.”
That meeting would have meant waiting another three months — far too long in Eskkar’s mind.
