Nothing can save you, not even the gods. Only how you die is left for you to choose.”
Eskkar spoke with the certainty of one who had seen many die before.
Then he waited, saying nothing. The dying man needed some time to grasp his plight.
It took Utu only moments to decide. “Wine, noble! For the pain.”
“Untie his hands and put something under his head,” Eskkar ordered.
He had done this many times before. Tell them the truth, that they were dying or would be put to death. It didn’t matter which. In that state of mind, most wounded men would appreciate every comfort. Hamati untied the man, then eased him down on the dirt floor, with his head elevated by a folded blanket. Hamati brought over the last of the soldier’s wine and held the wineskin to Utu’s lips, letting the man drink until he coughed and spat up some of the harsh liquid.
“Now tell me, Utu,” Eskkar asked, “what is the name of your leader, and how many others have been raiding the lands?”
“Shulat, noble. His name is Shulat.” Utu coughed again, but cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He rolled his eyes toward Hamati.
Eskkar nodded again, and Hamati dribbled more wine into the man’s mouth. “How many others, Utu?” Eskkar repeated.
Utu swallowed twice before he could speak, and even then he could barely raise his voice above a whisper. “There is another band of men up north, in Bisitun. Many men there . . . Shulat is the brother of their leader, Ninazu. He rules in Bisitun.” Utu’s voice gave out and he looked pitifully at Hamati, who gave him another mouthful of wine. “Ninazu . . . Ninazu wanted to know about the lands to the south, and Shulat wanted to raid the farms, so we came here a few weeks ago.” The man paused to take a labored breath, and his eyes closed for a long moment.
“Give him more wine,” Eskkar said, while he used the time to think.
Bisitun was a much larger village five or six days march farther north from Dilgarth. Bisitun sat on the northern edge of the lands that bordered Akkad, right at the point where the Tigris turned sharply north. It marked the outlying boundary of the lands Eskkar intended to bring under his rule.
Empire Rising
41
He planned to leave Sisuthros in charge of Bisitun, after they finished ridding the surrounding countryside of bandits and marauders. With Akkad and Bisitun working together, more than half of the best farmlands on this side of the Tigris would be under Eskkar’s control. Eskkar’s plan, worked out with the elders in Akkad, depended on securing Bisitun.
“How many men does this Ninazu have with him in Bisitun?” The man whimpered, but said nothing. Eskkar placed his hand on Utu’s good shoulder and shook him gently, knowing even a small movement would send a wave of pain through the man and keep him conscious. “How many men, Utu?” He spoke sharply, to make sure his words penetrated Utu’s weakening mind. “Tell me! Or there’ll be no more wine!”
Utu rolled his eyes toward Eskkar, his face a mixture of fear and pain.
But the dying man wanted the wine, wanted anything that would ease the pain and the fright of dying. “Seventy or eighty . . . maybe ninety . . . I don’t know . . . maybe more.” His voice trailed off a little.
“Do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Utu’s eyes closed again, and he didn’t answer. Eskkar looked at Hamati and a few more drops of wine were carefully dripped into the man’s mouth. Another spasm of coughing took Utu and he choked on the wine. It took time before his breathing slowed and he could speak again.
Eskkar waited patiently. “Utu, do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Eskkar had to lean close to hear the man’s words.
“Ninazu plans . . . to stay in Bisitun. He says the village is his now.
From there . . . he rules over the land.”
Eskkar ground his teeth in anger. Another petty ruler had arisen. With eighty or ninety determined and well-armed men, it would
Eskkar spoke with the certainty of one who had seen many die before.
Then he waited, saying nothing. The dying man needed some time to grasp his plight.
It took Utu only moments to decide. “Wine, noble! For the pain.”
“Untie his hands and put something under his head,” Eskkar ordered.
He had done this many times before. Tell them the truth, that they were dying or would be put to death. It didn’t matter which. In that state of mind, most wounded men would appreciate every comfort. Hamati untied the man, then eased him down on the dirt floor, with his head elevated by a folded blanket. Hamati brought over the last of the soldier’s wine and held the wineskin to Utu’s lips, letting the man drink until he coughed and spat up some of the harsh liquid.
“Now tell me, Utu,” Eskkar asked, “what is the name of your leader, and how many others have been raiding the lands?”
“Shulat, noble. His name is Shulat.” Utu coughed again, but cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He rolled his eyes toward Hamati.
Eskkar nodded again, and Hamati dribbled more wine into the man’s mouth. “How many others, Utu?” Eskkar repeated.
Utu swallowed twice before he could speak, and even then he could barely raise his voice above a whisper. “There is another band of men up north, in Bisitun. Many men there . . . Shulat is the brother of their leader, Ninazu. He rules in Bisitun.” Utu’s voice gave out and he looked pitifully at Hamati, who gave him another mouthful of wine. “Ninazu . . . Ninazu wanted to know about the lands to the south, and Shulat wanted to raid the farms, so we came here a few weeks ago.” The man paused to take a labored breath, and his eyes closed for a long moment.
“Give him more wine,” Eskkar said, while he used the time to think.
Bisitun was a much larger village five or six days march farther north from Dilgarth. Bisitun sat on the northern edge of the lands that bordered Akkad, right at the point where the Tigris turned sharply north. It marked the outlying boundary of the lands Eskkar intended to bring under his rule.
Empire Rising
41
He planned to leave Sisuthros in charge of Bisitun, after they finished ridding the surrounding countryside of bandits and marauders. With Akkad and Bisitun working together, more than half of the best farmlands on this side of the Tigris would be under Eskkar’s control. Eskkar’s plan, worked out with the elders in Akkad, depended on securing Bisitun.
“How many men does this Ninazu have with him in Bisitun?” The man whimpered, but said nothing. Eskkar placed his hand on Utu’s good shoulder and shook him gently, knowing even a small movement would send a wave of pain through the man and keep him conscious. “How many men, Utu?” He spoke sharply, to make sure his words penetrated Utu’s weakening mind. “Tell me! Or there’ll be no more wine!”
Utu rolled his eyes toward Eskkar, his face a mixture of fear and pain.
But the dying man wanted the wine, wanted anything that would ease the pain and the fright of dying. “Seventy or eighty . . . maybe ninety . . . I don’t know . . . maybe more.” His voice trailed off a little.
“Do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Utu’s eyes closed again, and he didn’t answer. Eskkar looked at Hamati and a few more drops of wine were carefully dripped into the man’s mouth. Another spasm of coughing took Utu and he choked on the wine. It took time before his breathing slowed and he could speak again.
Eskkar waited patiently. “Utu, do they plan to stay there, or will they ride on?” Eskkar had to lean close to hear the man’s words.
“Ninazu plans . . . to stay in Bisitun. He says the village is his now.
From there . . . he rules over the land.”
Eskkar ground his teeth in anger. Another petty ruler had arisen. With eighty or ninety determined and well-armed men, it would
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