Quest for Honour (35 page)

“Good horseflesh is scarce,” Eskkar agreed. “I will gather horses from every direction. But here, in your lands, are bred the finest mounts. And
you could breed more, if you had a reason to do so. Wherever and however you obtain them, I will trade tools, goods, whatever you need, with your people.”

Subutai rocked back and forth for a moment, always taking his time before replying. “We have a few surplus horses, but numbers such as you need . . .”

“This war will take time, perhaps years before it begins. I know that no one has as many mounts as I will need, but I must start gathering them now, as I must begin training the men to care for them, and to learn to ride and fight.”

Eskkar had his eyes on Subutai, but he caught a glimpse of Fashod, who let a flash of excitement cross his face.

“And if I can supply you with a good number of horses . . . you can provide tools, weapons, cooking pots, all the bronze we need?”

“Yes, as well as grain, cloth, food, wine, even cattle or sheep.” Eskkar kept his features impassive, but he thought he read something in Subutai’s body language. Trella had helped Eskkar understand the subtle signs given off by a man’s face and body. He guessed the Ur Nammu leader had extra horses, or at least knew where he could get them.

“Then we may be able to help you, Eskkar. That is, if you can break wild stock.”

Now it was Eskkar’s turn to rock back and forth while he considered his answer. The Ur Nammu had found a wild horse herd somewhere. Such animals would be beyond the villagers’ skill to train. Villagers could breed and raise horses, and teach them to accept a rider, but a wild animal, that was different. Only the most skilled riders could break a horse that had lived most of its life running free.

“I have only a few men who could handle such animals. Could you not break the new mounts, and exchange your trained horses with us?”

“Where are you intending to hold these horses? In Akkad?”

Subutai clearly wasn’t willing to talk about any exchanges, at least not yet.

“No, I will establish camps north of Bisitun,” said Eskkar, “most likely on the west bank of the river. Even a place such as this would be suitable. There are many small valleys in these lands with good grass where horses could be held. Perhaps your warriors could break the animals for us, until my men learn how to master the skill.”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking,” Subutai said. “I have warriors who
could break horses for you. In fact, I have too many young warriors, all eager for battle. With the Alur Meriki far to the east, there are few opportunities for them to prove themselves. I’m sure ten or fifteen would be glad for the chance to demonstrate their horse skills.”

“Then for that help, I would be grateful,” Eskkar said. “How big a horse herd did you find?”

Subutai smiled. “I see I must learn not to betray my thoughts so easily. At least a hundred horses. It was far to the north, at the base of the mountains. We took a few last year, and drove the rest into the foothills, then blocked their way out. They should still be there, or most of them. There may even be more. The grass was good, with plenty of water. We saw some fine stallions.”

If the Ur Nammu could deliver a few hundred horses and help break them, Eskkar could assemble a basic cavalry force in months, instead of years. With the additional animals he would obtain through trading, he might have more horses in the next six months than men to ride them.

“My men at Bisitun are almost ready to establish the first camp. As you bring in mounts, we will trade for them. If you agree.”

Subutai turned toward Fashod, who nodded his agreement. They had worked with Eskkar before, and accepted him as an equal. Now he was glad he’d come himself. The Ur Nammu would not have dealt with anyone else from Akkad or any other place for that matter.

Eskkar leaned back. There was still much to talk about, of course, but the basic arrangement had been made. In true warrior fashion, the details would be decided between Hathor and Fashod. That way, if there were disagreements, the leaders could correct the problems without anyone losing honor.

“You have something else to say?”

The question caught Eskkar by surprise, unaware that his own thoughts could be read on his face. The idea of so many horses arriving so soon had not been part of his plan. But now that the possibility existed, he might be able to improve on his original idea.

“I was thinking about bows for the riders. Your people can make them as well as mine. They would be a powerful weapon for my men.”

“You think you can train men to shoot arrows from the back of a horse?” Even Subutai couldn’t keep the skepticism out of his voice.

Eskkar grinned. “Not at first. But perhaps a few of your young men, with someone like Fashod to control them, could help train my young
men in the ways of fighting from horseback.”

Subutai laughed, the sound carrying across the grassland. “Dirt-eaters fighting on horseback! Enough talk for today,” he said, rising to his feet. He extended his hand and pulled Eskkar upright. “Tonight we will feast, then tomorrow we will talk again. I wish to hear all about your new enemy, these Sumerians.”

Eskkar felt the strength in Subutai’s grip. The warrior had indeed regained his full strength. “Then we’ll feast,” he said. “I brought two wineskins from Bisitun for you and your men. That should be enough to get most of them decently drunk.”

L
ater that night, after the feasting and singing and drinking, Eskkar checked the guards and the horses before readying himself for sleep. His head hurt from the third cup of wine – more than he’d drunk in some time. A footfall crunched in the dirt, and he looked up to see Subutai walking toward him.

The Ur Nammu leader squatted down beside him. “Eskkar, I think I may be able to offer you more help, if you can find a way.”

“I’ll take any help I can.” He wondered why Subutai was bringing this up now, and without Fashod or his men present.

“As I said, I have plenty of young warriors, and not enough fighting or riding to keep them occupied. With nothing to accomplish, they grow restive. They fight with each other, and make trouble over women and horses.”

And question their leaders, Eskkar knew. That’s why the warrior clans needed to keep their young men fighting. “Warriors need to ride,” Eskkar agreed, still not sure where this talk was heading.

“If you were interested in taking some of them into your army for a time, they would make fine fighters for you. They could learn much about the ways of war, and practice their skills on your enemy.”

A force of steppe warriors, even a small one, would be a blessing from the gods, Eskkar knew. They could act as scouts and messengers, and could harass the enemy as well. “If any of your warriors wished to join my men, they would be welcome.”

“Just for a year or two,” Subutai cautioned. “I don’t want them deciding to stay with your army when they’re needed here. But what they would learn would be very useful.”

It certainly would, Eskkar decided. They would learn more about Eskkar’s army and his forces, their strengths and weaknesses, than he would have cared to share with the Ur Nammu, but that couldn’t be avoided. Like Subutai, Eskkar understood that the day might come when they faced each other across a battlefield. But such a day would not come soon, he knew.

“I think we can make a fair arrangement, Subutai, that satisfies you and your needs.”

“Good. We’ll speak of this again in a few days. Better to let my men get used to the idea of delivering and breaking horses for you first.”

When the leader of the Ur Nammu had gone, Eskkar stretched out on his blanket. A force of warriors under his command. Something he’d dreamed about as a young boy. He found the idea strangely satisfying, and knew his father’s spirit would approve of his son leading horsemen into battle. The Ur Nammu might not be the Alur Meriki, but they shared a common ancestry, both clans riding down from the distant northern steppes many generations ago.

With their skills, Subutai’s warriors would make a powerful addition to his future army. There would be risks, of course, and plenty of problems, but he felt sure he could manage it, with a little luck. Hathor would help, and he would make a fine leader of Akkad’s horse fighters.

Eskkar wrapped his blanket around him and closed his eyes. Horses and fighting men from the Ur Nammu. Trella would be pleased.

L
ittle more than a month after King Shulgi took control of Sumer, En-hedu stood with her hands on her hips, looking about the crowded tavern full of happy patrons. Since their arrival in Sumer, both she and Tammuz had worked hard, but at last the Kestrel Tavern had settled into a satisfying routine. Irkalla and Anu handed out the food and ale, and serviced the customers, those able and willing to pay for their special services. The cook, helped by En-hedu and the girls, made the evening stew, while Rimaud carried ale and anything else of bulk to the Kestrel by day, and kept the crowd under control at night.

With Tammuz’s reputation in the neighborhood established by knocking the three thieves unconscious, and Rimaud’s massive arms and shoulders, not to mention the short sword he wore day and night, only the very foolish or very drunk dared to make trouble. Guardsman Jarud stopped by almost every night, often with two or three of his men who either had done something well during the day, or possibly just avoided their leader’s ire. He usually arrived well after sundown, to enjoy a late-night cup of ale. His presence helped convince the gangs who lurked in the marketplace and roamed the lanes at night that it made more sense to leave the Kestrel and its new owners alone, and concentrate on more vulnerable and less popular prey.

Serving decent food and strong ale, the Kestrel soon earned a good reputation, especially among those sailing or working on the riverboats and docks, located only a few hundred paces away. Patrons could drink themselves senseless, fall asleep on the floor, and still find their purses, not
to mention their throats, intact in the morning. Rimaud even accompanied an occasional sailor back to his boat at closing time or got them to the docks just after dawn.

Tammuz and En-hedu still labored from dawn to dusk each day. Everything and everyone had to be under someone’s watch, lest problems arose. Even good customers would cheerfully take advantage of any lapse of the owners’ guard, either by stealing ale or pilfering from another customer who might have drunk too much.

Still, people came to the Kestrel to eat, drink, meet and talk with their friends, or just to find a safe place to sleep at night. That kept the little tavern open for business from dawn until well after dark. En-hedu and Tammuz made sure that one or both of them were present to keep an eye on things at all times, though they soon realized that Rimaud could be trusted as well. His gratitude for their concern showed on his broad face. He made sure that neither the customers nor the staff could take advantage of the Kestrel’s owners.

Like any trade or craft, the owners also had to exercise constant care to maintain a profitable business. En-hedu kept track of all the expenses, and informed Tammuz that, in another month or two, the Kestrel would be turning a profit. That was important, not only because they had to earn their own bread, but because an unprofitable inn that remained in business would attract suspicion. And there were plenty of informers, who dropped in to hear the latest talk on the river, ready to take notice of anything out of the ordinary. En-hedu and her husband soon knew who they were. Their clumsy attempts to gather loose talk and draw information from the northern boatmen made many of the regular customers laugh.

En-hedu was working alone one afternoon when a man entered the Kestrel, his eyes squinting into the shadowy interior. Not much light entered from the door or the roof hole, and it was still too early in the day to start a fire. He glanced around, then went to a table and sat down. The tavern was almost empty, except for two drunks snoring their heads off in the corner. Tammuz and Rimaud were out buying ale, while the girls were trying to snatch some sleep in the tiny room that they shared with Rimaud and those clients who were willing to pay extra.

En-hedu reached the table, sizing up the potential customer. He looked like a man with a coin or two in his purse. “Welcome to the Kestrel. Ale costs one copper coin for two mugs, or one cup and a loaf of bread.” It was always best to get the prices clear in the customer’s mind right away.
Otherwise, they would claim they’d been distracted and hadn’t realized what things cost. Or they claimed to have forgotten, which she could almost believe from some of the more ignorant farm workers, especially after they’d drunk a few cups of ale. By now En-hedu had heard every trick and sad story a customer could come up with.

The man smiled, reached into his tunic, and pulled out a leather pouch that remained looped around his neck. “And to stay the night, how much is that?”

A customer with ready coins always received a smile and a softer tone. “For two copper coins, you can have as much ale as you like, with stew for supper and a place to sleep tonight.” That wasn’t as generous as it sounded. Almost no one could drink more than three or four cups of the powerful brew. One customer had downed six cups before passing out and cracking his head on a table. He didn’t wake up until nearly noon the next day.