Once the moon rose, they had enough light to make out the flat terrain. Bantor drove the men hard all night. They’d alternated between jogging and walking, and the threat of Ariamus and his horsemen not only drove them onward, it kept them looking over their shoulders. Except for an occasional farmhouse, they saw little. Twice they stopped at a farmer’s well for water. The first time they went unnoticed, but at the second, the dogs awoke everyone with their barking, and Bantor had to order the family back into their house, warning them to say nothing to anyone.
By the time he gave the order to halt, only a few hours remained before dawn. Exhausted, sore-footed, and hungry, the men had covered twenty miles and reached the trail that led north to Bisitun. Everyone fell asleep in moments, falling to the earth without regard to comfort. When the sun woke them, no one felt rested. They’d slept only long enough to sustain them.
The road posed even greater danger. Travelers and traders would be coming along, some on horseback, and it wouldn’t be long before word of their passage got back to Akkad. Even more worrisome, Ariamus might send any number of riders up the road, to prevent their escape to the north. Bantor determined not to lose a moment.
As soon as he started walking, the pain in his shoulder returned. Sleeping on the hard ground hadn’t helped; the brief rest had stiffened it, and each step made him wince in pain. The soreness seemed worse than the day before. Klexor examined him and declared that nothing seemed broken, and for that small comfort, Bantor gave thanks.
By midmorning, they’d walked and jogged another ten miles, and every tired step took them farther from Akkad. They began to encounter travelers, most heading in the opposite direction, toward Akkad, and all of them on foot.
“Shouldn’t we warn them there might be danger in Akkad?” Klexor asked, the first time they passed some travelers heading toward the city.
“If we do, they’ll spread the word, and soon half the countryside will know we’re heading north. They’ll have to take their chances at Akkad.
Otherwise any scouts Ariamus has in the area will know we’ve passed this way.”
“They may mention us anyway, when they arrive.”
“Or they may forget all about us in the excitement.” Bantor had anticipated this during the night’s walk. More important, he’d learned from Eskkar the need to appear confident before the men, even when uncertainty gripped your insides. “Besides, it will take them hours to reach Akkad, maybe even until sunset. We’ll cover a lot of ground before then.”
Bantor turned to face Klexor. “Tell the men to say nothing to anyone we pass. Not a word.”
Klexor grunted, and began to pass the word down the line.
Not that anyone wanted to speak to them anyway, Bantor decided. He and his heavily armed men looked gaunt, dirty, and dangerous, and the few wayfarers they encountered shrank aside, staring openmouthed and with fear in their eyes, as the soldiers strode past in silence.
They rested every hour, all of them trying to ignore the pangs of hunger that rumbled in their bellies. Just before noon, Bantor gave the order to halt. The men sank to the ground, too tired to complain about their hunger.
“Klexor, we’re about thirty miles north of Akkad.” Bantor wiped the sweat from his face, as his men grouped themselves around their leaders.
“It’s time to cut over to the river. I know a farm that has some boats. We’ll wait until the road is clear, then we’ll move west. ”
“We’re nearly halfway to Dilgarth. We could be there by early morning, if we push hard.”
“I’d like to, Klexor, but we don’t know what might be waiting for us in Dilgarth. And even if we made it there, we’d never be able to get back to Akkad.” Bantor shook his head. “No, I think the river is safer for us. We can find something to eat at the farm, too. If things are really bad, we may be safer on the other side of the Tigris anyway.”
Klexor shrugged, but didn’t have anything better to offer. “Then let’s get off the road now, while it’s clear.”
One by one, they slipped off the dusty trail, leaving as little trace of their presence as possible. They stumbled along as best they could on the uneven terrain, until they’d passed well out of sight of anyone traveling on the road. They covered the last stretch to the river at a slow walk, the only pace they could manage.
When they cleared a low hill and saw the farmhouse ahead, nestling a stone’s throw from the river, Bantor felt close to exhaustion. The pain from his shoulder, combined with the unfamiliar effort of walking, had tired him more than he would have expected. His men looked no better, and he decided he’d made the right choice; traveling on the road, they would never have reached Dilgarth before riders caught up with them.
Spreading his men out to avoid leaving tracks, they stepped down into the nearest irrigation ditch, and splashed along its winding course down to the river.
The farm, a large one with several separate buildings surrounded by fields of wheat and barley, belonged to a man named Hargar. Children playing under a tree noticed them approaching, and ran to warn the adults.
The family barricaded themselves inside the main building. Bantor knew the appearance of so many armed men would frighten any farmer.
When they reached the sheep pen, Bantor climbed out of the ditch.
“Wait here,” he told the men. “Klexor, come with me.” The two men walked side by side to the house.
“Ho, Hargar! No need to hide in your cellar. It’s Bantor, commander at Akkad, and we need your help.”
Nothing happened, so Bantor and Klexor sat in the dirt under a fruit tree in front of the main house, a few paces from the door. Bantor leaned gratefully against the tree and hoped nobody in the house decided to launch an arrow at him. After a long moment, they heard shuffling at the door, and a young man stuck his head out and stared at them, eyes wide and mouth open.
“Who are you?” Bantor called out.
“I’m Hargar’s son, Hannis. My father has gone to Dilgarth to sell a goat. Is it really you, Bantor?” His voice sounded fearful, but he stepped outside and slowly approached the men sitting on the ground. “By the gods, it is you. What are you doing here? Why did you approach through the ditches?”
“It’s a long story, Hannis. But something’s gone wrong at Akkad. Have you heard any news from there?”
“No, no one’s gone to market in over a week,” Hannis said, still looking nervous at the sight of the rest of Bantor’s men.
“Well, we need your help. If we wanted to slit your throats, you’d all be dead by now. I need food and drink for my men.” Bantor reached into his pouch and took out the last of his silver coins. “Knowing your father, I suppose I’ll have to pay for it.” He tossed the coins to Hannis. “Give these to Hargar when he returns.”
An hour later, Bantor and all his men, full of food and a few mouthfuls of ale, had fallen asleep behind a storehouse nestled next to the river.
Klexor stood watch, as much to make sure no one left the farm as to guard against anyone approaching.
A little before sundown, Bantor and his men ate again, filling themselves on bread, cheese, and several tasteless sausages Hargar had been planning to sell in the market at Akkad.
“We’re taking your boats, Hannis,” Bantor said. “Don’t bother complaining. You’ll be paid when things settle down in Akkad.”
“And if they don’t settle down, then I’ll be out two boats,” Hannis answered. “Can’t you pay me now?”
Bantor smiled. “You’ve learned your father’s ways. I would if I could, but you’ve already got the last of my silver. Besides, you’ll probably get the boats back anyway.”
“Where are you going?”
“We’re going upriver to Dilgarth. It’s better than walking, and there’s no place nearby where we’ll find enough horses.”
“What’s going on in Dilgarth? Has Eskkar returned from the north?”
Bantor took the last piece of bread from the platter and stood. “Stay away from both Akkad and Dilgarth for at least a week. And Hannis, make sure no one in your family says anything about us being here or taking the boats. Or I’ll come back and take that silver out of your hides. You’ll wish the Alur Meriki had returned if I find you’ve told anyone we were here or where we’re going. Do you understand?”
Bantor walked away without waiting for a reply. At the river, two boats bobbed in the water, tied to posts sunk into the bank. One was little more than a skiff, and used as much for working in the irrigation ditches as on the river. The other craft was larger, and sturdy enough to ferry crops and animals to the markets in Akkad.
Four of Bantor’s men knew about boats, and he told them to take charge. They emptied the vessel of ballast, and positioned the men with care. Seventeen men could barely squeeze aboard, and both boats rode dangerously low in the water. Even Bantor could see it wouldn’t take much to capsize them. The sun had just gone down when they pushed off, heading north. Without a breeze, they didn’t bother to raise the tiny sail on the larger craft.
Powering the overloaded boats upstream took plenty of muscle, and the men handed off the small paddles to one another whenever they tired.
They paddled until well away from the farm. Only when the darkness of night covered everything did Bantor order them to turn toward the shore, satisfied no one could see them. If anyone came to the farm and put a knife to Hannis’s throat, the farmer could honestly say that Bantor had gone north, up the river.
They rested, watching the stars appear, before turning the boats around and heading back toward Akkad, with four men working the oars.
The paddling went easier downstream, and they made better time.
Bantor wanted to go faster, but the boatmen refused to speed up, afraid of a spill in the darkness, in an overweighted boat paddled by clumsy oarsmen.
Most of the men sat immobile, afraid to move. No one wanted to go for a swim in the river at night, with a good chance of drowning in the bargain.
Bantor watched the shoreline, and soon the dark outlines of Hargar’s farmhouse slid past. He saw no one, and anyone watching the river would have to be standing at the edge of the riverbank to notice the vessels’ silent passing.
The moon rose, climbed, and began to fall, as they made their way down the Tigris. Bantor guessed they still had another hour or so before dawn when the boatman called out that they were approaching Akkad.
Bantor couldn’t see anything, except the river glinting in the moonlight.
No lights showed anywhere along the river. He knew all the farmers would be fast asleep, thriftily saving their oil and candles. Torches would be burning in Akkad, but Bantor knew they would have to be farther downriver to see those.
The boat edged closer to the eastern shore, though he couldn’t make out anything, and had no idea what landmarks the boatmen recognized.
Though he’d lived near Akkad all his life, the river remained a mystery to him. Bantor flinched when the bottom grated on the sand, then thumped against a small wooden jetty protruding a few feet into the river. In the faint moonlight he could see another boat tied up there as well.
The boatmen swung onto the jetty and secured the boats fast. The men disembarked one at a time, taking care not to swamp the listing riverboats. Bantor climbed ashore last, breathing thanks to the gods that he, his men, and their weapons stood on solid earth again.
The soldiers moved inland, stringing their bows as they went. Noble Rebba’s farm, a combination of houses and corrals, lay a few hundred paces from the river. They stopped a good distance from the nearest house, crouching down behind an irrigation ditch. The farm, one of several that Noble Rebba owned, was a rich one, and he had both dogs and men to protect his herds and crops from petty thieves and robbers. It would be too dangerous to approach at night. Bantor decided to wait there until dawn.
He told the men to take what rest they could, but to keep their bows strung and at the ready for any confrontation.
When the sun’s first rays crossed the horizon, Bantor advanced toward the farmhouse. He had grown up on a farm, much smaller than this one, of course, but he remembered the ways of dogs and animals. So he headed first to the path that led to Akkad, then followed that toward the main house. A dog barked, joined at once by another, and Bantor saw two men step into the sunlight in front of the main house. They looked at him in surprise as he approached, and in a moment a third man appeared, carrying swords that he handed to the others.
Bantor knew he looked like a bandit in his ripped and tattered garment that showed the mud of the river. The dogs surrounded him, growl-ing and sniffing, but one of the men called them off, and Bantor walked right up to the door.
“Where is Noble Rebba, master of the house? I am Bantor, commander of the guard of Akkad.”
Rebba appeared at the door. An old man, already past his sixtieth season, he had long white hair that flowed past his shoulders. His wits remained sharp despite his years, however, and Rebba looked keenly at Bantor, then stepped closer, as if to make sure his tired eyes had seen correctly. “So, it is you. You look very well for a dead man.” He smiled at Bantor’s reaction. “Come in.”
Inside the main house, two frightened women and three small girls with big eyes huddled together. They stared at Bantor for a few moments before resuming their preparations for the morning meal. Bantor frowned at them, and Rebba interpreted the glance.
“Adana, take Miriani and the girls outside.”
With the women gone, Bantor examined the main room, hand on the hilt of his sword, then moved to the other rooms, looking inside to make sure they were empty. Satisfied, he went back to the doorway and checked that all of Rebba’s people had moved out of earshot before turning back to the old noble.
“Well, Rebba, can you tell me what is going on? On my way to Akkad yesterday, my men were attacked by a group of bandits. They were led by Ariamus. You remember that coward, I’m sure.”
“Bandits? Well, I wouldn’t call them bandits, exactly,” Rebba said with a grim laugh. “And Ariamus? He’s one of the new rulers of Akkad.”
Not too long ago, such words would have infuriated Bantor. But too many men had died in the siege, and death had brushed by him too many times to worry him now. “Is he? So who else rules in Akkad?”
Something in Bantor’s tone gave Rebba pause, until he remembered that this man had been away trailing the barbarians for more than a month.
“Who else but Korthac.”
Rebba noted the puzzled look. “Ah, yes, that’s right. Korthac arrived after you left for the south. He claims he’s a merchant, a trader, but he has the look of a soldier about him. He arrived about six weeks ago, just after Eskkar headed north. Korthac comes from the distant west, possibly even from the land of Egypt. He’s taken control of Akkad. It seems that Trella’s spies failed to uncover the plot.”
“And when did all this happen?” Right now Bantor had no interest in anyone’s spies.
“Two nights ago. Just after sunset, Ariamus rode up to the river gate from the south. Korthac had men waiting inside, near the gate, with weapons hidden in bundles. They killed the gatekeepers and captured the gate without anyone raising the alarm. Ariamus and more than a hundred men ran in uncontested. Joining with Korthac’s Egyptians, they attacked the barracks and caught many of the soldiers asleep. At the same time, they overpowered Trella’s guards and seized her house. By now, Korthac has at least a hundred and fifty bandits and thieves in his service, with more swearing allegiance to him every day. He’s paying well for men willing to follow orders, and killing anyone who disobeys his commands.”
“Only a hundred and fifty!” Bantor exclaimed. “There are more than three thousand people in Akkad. Surely they won’t submit to this Korthac and a few bandits.”
“Most of the soldiers are dead or captured, Bantor. A few may be in hiding. Anyone who speaks out or even raises his eyes is killed. Korthac holds Trella prisoner in her own house. Korthac’s house, now, I suppose.
I don’t know what happened to Gatus. My grandson brought word of all this last night, along with a midmorning summons for me. All the big farm holders are ordered to come into Akkad today, to meet with our new master, Korthac.”
“Will you still go?”
“Of course I must go. I was getting ready to leave when you arrived.
I want to get there early, to see Nicar first and find out what he thinks.
He’ll know more of what is happening.” Rebba looked closely at his visitor, who stood there looking blindsided at all these happenings. “Are you alone?”
The question brought Bantor back to the present. “No, I’m not alone.
I have sixteen men with me, and they’re all looking for vengeance. So go to the city, Rebba, and talk to Nicar, but don’t tell anyone we’re here. Not even Nicar. Not if you want to keep your family alive.” He fingered his sword. “Ariamus will die, and any that stand with him. I’ve sent word to Eskkar. He will be here in a few days. With his seventy men, we’ll brush aside this Korthac like a fly.”
“They say Eskkar’s dead, and his men butchered. Even if he’s alive, he’ll be outside the walls, the same walls that just held off thousands of barbarians.”
Bantor laughed, throwing his head back, but the sound had a trace of danger in it. “Eskkar’s not easy to kill. Besides, do you think the wall will stop him?” He smiled grimly at the old noble’s reaction. “Tell me, who would you rather have as your enemy? Eskkar, or this Korthac? Do you really think these bandits will stand up to Eskkar’s soldiers?”
“Didn’t these bandits kill most of your men?” Rebba countered.
“We were ambushed by sixty or seventy men, caught by surprise on tired horses. Even so, we killed more of them than we lost. We drove them away, Rebba. They ran from us, remember that.”
“That’s not how Ariamus described the battle.” Rebba sighed. “Anyway, many in Akkad have no love for Eskkar and Trella.” The noble paused, considering his words. “But many more will follow him, that’s true enough.
If he’s still alive.” He sat down on a stool. “Let me think a moment.”
Bantor bided his time, gripping his sword hilt and staring at the master farmer, as the moments passed.
“You have forced the choice on me, Bantor. I was going to Akkad to find out which way the wind blew. Now I must throw in my lot with you and Eskkar. Even if you didn’t hold my family hostage, Korthac would never trust me again, once he finds out you and your men came to me.
He’ll be looking for any excuse to confiscate land and property, to execute a few landowners as an example. So I can’t tell him you’re here.” He shook his head at his predicament, then stood. “I have to go. The sooner I know what’s going on, the better we’ll know what to do.”
Bantor didn’t like having to trust the old noble, but this Korthac had summoned Rebba, so he must go, before someone came out looking for him. No important landowner could ignore such a summons, and Korthac would certainly notice if Noble Rebba didn’t appear as ordered.
“Gather your family fi rst, Rebba, and talk to them. I’ll keep all of the women and children here in the house. I’ll kill them myself, Rebba, if you betray me.”
“Save your threats, Bantor. I know what must be done. Still, the women and children will be safer indoors for the next few days anyway. I’m sure Ariamus’s men will be wandering the countryside, looking for loot and women.”
“Then I’ll make sure they’re safe, Rebba,” Bantor said.
“And I’ll explain everything to my sons.” Rebba started toward the door, then stopped to stand directly before Bantor. “I’ll assure them you’re here to protect them. Remember that, before you do anything foolish. I think you would be wise to wait for Eskkar, if indeed he is coming.” Without pausing for a reply or approval, he walked past Bantor and stepped outside, calling to his sons and grandsons.
Bantor followed him and waved his arms toward the river. His men appeared, alert, with their bows strung, and moved toward the house.
As Bantor stood there, Rebba explained the situation to his family. His sons and grandsons, their women and the frightened servants, all glanced apprehensively first at Bantor, then at the dirty, hard-looking armed men striding past them, hands on their weapons. Every man’s eyes remained watchful and wary. Rebba, fi nishing with his sons, called the older women to his side and spoke to them as well. When he fi nished, the women gathered up the children and moved back toward the house.
Rebba, accompanied by two of his sons, began his journey toward Akkad. The city lay just beyond the curve of the river, little more than two miles away, but it would take them most of an hour to reach it, at the old man’s slow pace.
As he watched them depart, Bantor felt the helplessness that comes when another controls your fate. Then a young girl, barely old enough to walk on her own and oblivious of his frown, slipped away from her mother and ran up to him. The mother, carrying another child on her hip, looked at Bantor nervously as he scooped the giggling girl up and carried her into the house.
Inside, another girl, a few years older, asked him if he and his men had eaten this morning.
“No, girl. We’ve not eaten since last night.” Bantor lowered the little girl to the floor and let himself relax. He glanced down the trail through the doorway and took one last look at Rebba, walking south. Bantor had done all he could do, and would just have to wait. The last of his men filed into the house. The siege of Akkad had begun.
Bantor tried to rest as the long day dragged by. One of the women examined his shoulder, and declared nothing broken, though the pain felt as sharp as ever. He spent most of the afternoon pacing back and forth between the main house and the sentries he’d posted around the farm’s outskirts, watching the path to Akkad. He’d expected Rebba to return by midafternoon, but as the sun began to set, the noble hadn’t returned, and Bantor wondered if the old man had betrayed him. He met with Klexor; they spoke about what they’d do if attacked, and how they’d fight their way to the boats and cross the river.
His men, taking their cue from their commander, waited, weapons at hand. Worry spread to the rest of the household. Everyone grew more frightened with each passing hour.
As dusk descended, the dogs gave the first sign of someone approaching. They began barking before the sentry caught sight of the returning men. Bantor recognized the yapping of dogs welcoming their master’s return, not the deep growls that would warn of strangers prowling about in the night.
Nevertheless, Bantor ordered Klexor to take some men and scout the fields, to make sure no one followed Rebba. Bantor had been ambushed once. He’d not be caught a second time.
Rebba, slow of step and tired from a long day, reached his house, to the joy of his family. Bantor stood by and watched in silence as Rebba greeted his kin and accepted a cup of wine to refresh himself. At last Rebba told everyone to go inside the house. He and Bantor walked a few steps to the big willow tree that grew alongside the house. They sat on benches, facing each other in the gathering darkness across a table, its top scarred and rough from years of chopping vegetables and small game. Two dogs, their master’s favorites, arranged themselves at his feet.
“The news is bad, Bantor,” Rebba began, reaching down to stroke one of the dogs. He kept his voice low, though no one stood close enough to hear their words. The dogs would alert them if anyone tried to approach them in the darkness. “Korthac controls the city. His men have killed or captured most of the soldiers.”
Bantor expected that news. If this demon Korthac didn’t control the city, Bantor wouldn’t be here hiding in the dark. “How many men does he have, Rebba?”
“Not many, I think, though Ariamus claims to have hundreds of men under his command. Both Korthac and Ariamus are offering silver to any man who follows their orders, and already some have joined him, either for the silver or to take part in future lootings. That, also, Ariamus has promised to them.”
Bantor ground his teeth at Ariamus’s name, but then repeated his question. “How many men?”
“I’d say a hundred and twenty at most. Apparently you did kill many of them, and others died fighting the soldiers at the barracks. I think he had less than a hundred and fifty when he attacked. Of course, others have joined up with him.”
Bantor relaxed for the first time all day. A hundred bandits, even a few more, would not stop the trained soldiers who had beaten the Alur Meriki.
“Once Eskkar gets here with his men, if we can get into Akkad, we have more than enough to fight them. As soon as we begin, the villagers will join us.”
Rebba shook his head. “Don’t be so sure. The rumor is true. Eskkar is dead. He was killed a few days ago in Bisitun by Korthac’s men. Without Eskkar’s name to rally the villagers, few will join you.”
Eskkar dead! And Trella, what would happen to her? “What about Lady Trella? Is she dead, too? And Annok-sur?”
“No, Korthac captured Trella, along with your wife. His men stormed the house and killed the guards, except for a handful that escaped or surrendered. Now he resides there, with Trella and Annok-sur under guard and confined to the bed chamber.”
“And Annok-sur, is she…”
“I didn’t see her, but I’m sure she’s safe. Korthac has no reason to kill either her or Trella. That could be the one thing that might inflame the villagers to resist him. So he’ll keep Trella alive, for now at least.”
Bantor felt relief wash over him. He and Annok-sur had suffered many hard years together, and it angered him to think that her life depended on another man’s whim. If anything happened to her, he’d kill this Korthac himself. “What about Gatus? Is he dead, too?”
Rebba laughed in the darkness. “The old soldier slipped past his assassins, though one of his men was killed at his side. Korthac’s men claimed they wounded him, and that he must be dead by now. But they haven’t found his body yet.”
Bantor slumped back on the bench. This sounded bad. Eskkar’s house and Trella captured, the barracks stormed, Gatus wounded or dead, and Eskkar murdered. With Eskkar gone, the soldiers would not rally around any of the nobles. He remembered his wife’s words. The one thing Annok-sur had feared more than anything-an attack on Trella and Eskkar. Without their protection, Bantor and his wife would have no future in Akkad.
They would have to flee the city. Somehow he would have to snatch his wife away from Korthac, then slip away with his men. It would.. A new thought crossed his mind.
“Rebba, how did Eskkar die?”
The old farmer had to think about that. “I’m not sure. Korthac didn’t say much about it. I believe Ariamus said he was killed by a sword. Yes, that’s what he said.”
“And the men who brought word of this? How many men did Ariamus send to kill Eskkar?”
“Just a handful, I think. He didn’t say. Only that they had killed Eskkar a few days ago and just returned from Bisitun.”
Bantor’s smile returned. Eskkar had been declared dead at least three times before. “Well, Rebba, let’s talk about that. Korthac and Ariamus sent some men up to Bisitun. They slipped past Grond and Sisuthros, and all of Eskkar’s Hawk Clan guards, murdered him, then escaped back here with the news, without being killed or captured by Eskkar’s seventy men.
Did they bring back his head, as proof of their story?”
“Hmm, I see what you mean,” Rebba said softly. “Yes, that does sound too easy, doesn’t it. How good were the men with Eskkar?”
“Many of them rode against the barbarians. It would take more than a half-dozen bandits to escape those men, Rebba. Even if Eskkar were murdered, I don’t think any would get away from Sisuthros and his men to tell the tale.”
Rebba put both hands on the table, as if searching for support from the strong wood. “If Eskkar is not dead, then he will be here in a week or so, with his men. With your soldiers, he could quickly raise another hundred men who would follow him.”
“More than that, I think.”
“Don’t be so quick to count your victory, Bantor. You would be outside the walls, and in a week, Ariamus and Korthac can enlist plenty of men from among the rogues and villains in the city and countryside. Korthac has plenty of gold to pay them. And despite what you say, it will not be easy to get past the gate. It’s guarded even better than before. And remember, Korthac has Lady Trella. If I know Eskkar, he won’t do anything that will get her killed.”
“My rider will reach Eskkar in two more days,” Bantor said, as if thinking out loud, “even if he has to kill the horses. With a forced march, Eskkar and the men can be here five days later, faster if he comes ahead by horseback.”
Rebba nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. So it seems you will be my guest for at least that long. What are you planning to do?”
The question caught Bantor by surprise. So far, he hadn’t thought about anything other than waiting for Eskkar. “I’m not sure, Rebba. I’d like to find Gatus, if he is still alive. But I dare not go into the city.”
“Yes, you would be recognized.” Rebba sighed. “I can’t search Akkad in your place. Besides, Korthac’s men are hunting for Gatus, and I am sure they’ll find him sooner or later.”
“What else did you learn?” Bantor asked.
“I learned my future place in Korthac’s plans. I will be allowed to pay an additional tax of gold that will probably ruin me, and I am to continue working on the harvest. In return, my family will be permitted to keep my holdings, though I am sure Korthac will take most of my crops and livestock. I also had to swear on my knees to Korthac that I would obey his authority. For that, he will leave me alone, at least for a while.”
Hearing about Rebba’s plight prompted another thought. “What about Nicar, Rebba? And Corio? What have they agreed to?”
“Much the same, Bantor, and with as much choice as I did. Nicar did not like it, and Ariamus struck him across the mouth when he protested.
Ariamus quartered some of his bandits in Nicar’s house, to keep an eye on him.”
“We need to know more, Rebba, and you’re the only one who can get it in safety. You must learn all you can about this Korthac and his men.”
Bantor leaned across the table toward the old noble. “We’ll wait here for Eskkar to arrive. He’ll know what to do.”
Rebba sat back, digesting Bantor’s suggestion for a few moments.
“Bantor, your presence here puts me and my family in great danger. For the next two or three days, you’ll be safe enough, but after that, the risk will grow each day as Korthac takes greater control. If Eskkar does not arrive in seven or eight days, or if we hear that he is truly dead, then you must take your men and depart.”
Bantor heard the force in the old farmer’s words. Rebba spoke the truth. They couldn’t stay here forever. “If Eskkar doesn’t come, or we haven’t heard from him by then, we will leave.” In that case, Bantor decided, he’d find some way to rescue his wife, with as many men as would follow him. “Meanwhile, perhaps you can find out about Gatus.”
“I am to return to Akkad the day after tomorrow. Things should be settling down by then, and I’ll have two wagonloads of fruits and vegetables for my grandson to sell in the market. Do you have any idea of where Gatus might be hiding?”
Bantor closed his eyes and let himself think about the old soldier.
Where would the man go to hide? Ariamus knew the city well enough, so all the usual places would be well searched. A new place seemed more likely, one Ariamus wouldn’t know. Then Bantor recalled some words that Annok-sur had spoken once. Something about a friend of Gatus setting up a small alehouse with that thief of a boy, Tammuz. He remembered the look Annok-sur had given him when he asked about it. She’d looked away, and told him it meant nothing, her tone of voice telling him not to probe further. He knew his wife kept many secrets.
Perhaps it did mean nothing, but he knew all about Annok-sur’s network of spies. At least it might be a place to start looking. He made an effort to push thoughts of Annok-sur and her plight from his mind.
“An old friend of Gatus was injured during the siege,” Bantor said, picking his words with care. “He couldn’t fight any more, so after the battle, Gatus set him up in a small alehouse, along with a crippled boy who once rode with Eskkar. Maybe that is where Gatus has gone.”
“There are many houses that sell ale, Bantor. I’ll ask around, but not until the day after tomorrow. And only if Gatus isn’t discovered before then, or found dead.”
“I thank you for your efforts, Rebba. Gatus is a friend.” He hesitated, then added, “You know that Eskkar will reward you for this, when he returns.”
“I need no gold from Eskkar, Bantor.” The old noble stood up, stretching to ease the stiffness in his bones. “But I did not like the way Ariamus struck Nicar, nor did I like groveling on my knees before Korthac. I will see what I can do.”
Bantor realized his mistake. “I didn’t mean to offend you, noble. But no matter what happens, you have already earned my thanks, and that of my men.”
“Just keep them quiet and out of sight for the next seven days, Bantor.
I would like to live long enough to earn your thanks.”