Conflict of Empires (2010) (39 page)

“How far can you cast such a stone?”

“With a good chance of a hit, King Eskkar, about seventy-five paces,” Shappa answered, looking more confident now that he’d proved his skill. “But with smaller stones, I’ve hit targets at double that distance.”

That matched the distances an Akkadian archer had to hit his targets – three out of four at seventy-five paces, and two out of five at one hundred and fifty. Mitrac and some of the other master bowmen could hit targets at over four hundred paces, something else Eskkar once wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

“Can you do better? Can the range of throws be extended?”

“No, my lord, not easily. The stones vary in weight and shape too much to make a perfect cast each time.”

“Do it again,” Eskkar said. “And this time do it slower, and explain what you’re doing at every step.”

He made the boy do it twice more, until Eskkar felt certain he understood the process. Then he turned to Nivar. “Let me see what you can do.”

“Underhand, Nivar,” Gatus called out, still sitting on his stool.

Nivar stepped forward and took Shappa’s place. Where the first slinger had shown a calm demeanor, Nivar could scarcely conceal his excitement. The stone slipped from his fingers when he tried to drop it into the pouch. To Eskkar’s surprise, not one of the onlookers laughed. Everyone kept silent, except Gatus, who scratched his beard noisily.

Nivar faced the target, his body turned slightly to the side in the same position as Shappa. This time the sling swung the opposite way, but the projectile flung itself forward almost as quickly. When the stone struck the target, it was still traveling at an upwards angle. A good shot, and just as much mud had blasted off the wall.

“Again,” Eskkar ordered, his eyes narrowed as they watched every movement, determined to miss nothing of the process.

Another throw, the underhand motion similar to the way Eskkar had skipped stones across a pond in his youth. This time the missile struck in the target’s head. No doubt a few more paces back, and it would have missed the target.

“A good throw, Nivar.” Eskkar wanted to encourage the boy. “How fast can you throw three stones?”

Nivar tried to duplicate Shappa quick reload, but the second stone missed the target, and the third failed to stay in the pouch.

“I’m sorry, Lord Eskkar,” the embarrassment in Nivar’s voice was plain to all. “I only learned Shappa’s way of reloading a few days ago.”

“Which method will cast the stone farther?” Eskkar asked. At the same time, he motioned to Shappa to give him the sling.

“There seems to be a difference of opinion about that,” Gatus said. “A lot depends on the individual slinger, of course, but it seems to me that the underhand method will throw the stone farther, but perhaps not with the same force.”

“Better a stone falls on the rear ranks than in the dirt,” Eskkar remarked, modifying the archer’s old adage. By now he’d fitted the sling to his finger, and dropped a stone in the pouch. He whirled the sling, turning it over again and again, until he thought he knew when to release it. Imitating the two slingers, he stepped forward as he let it fly. The stone sailed right over the barracks and landed somewhere out of sight.

But not out of hearing. A loud voice began cursing the fool who threw stones in the air.

Eskkar had to force himself not to smile. He didn’t mind looking foolish, not as long as he could master the skill. Again and again he threw, five, ten, up to twenty stones. At first he took two revolutions for each throw, but soon learned to launch the projectile with a single spin. A second revolution added little to the force of the stone. Eskkar’s results ranged all over the barracks wall, the dirt between, and the sky above. But by the twentieth stone, he’d slipped into what had to be the proper rhythm, stepping forward and throwing his arm directly at the target.

He grunted in satisfaction when he struck the target twice in succession. By then sweat covered his face and bare chest. The task seemed simple enough, but he realized you had to concentrate on what you were doing. No doubt, over time, the skill of each slinger and the individual steps would merge into a smooth motion that required little thought. Just like an archer. When you mastered your craft, you scarcely needed to aim the weapon.

But not on the first day, or the second. He looked around, and found Gatus had gone, leaving Eskkar and Grond alone with the recruits. Gatus
might have rounded up the boys, but it was the king who conceived their use, and it should be the king to whom they gave their loyalty.

“All right, I want to see every man throw. Line them up, Shappa. Nivar, get some boys and collect the stones.”

Grond helped out, making sure the now excited boys stayed at their place in the line. Eskkar told them to start with the more usual, overhand throw. There would be plenty of time for practicing with the underhand toss.

One by one, the boys demonstrated their skill. Soon stones were flying all over the barracks area, and Grond had to clear everyone out of possible danger. That included anyone to their rear, as some boys in their haste sent rocks whirling behind them, into the dirt at their feet, or straight up into the air, with everyone dodging the missile’s return to earth.

Eskkar took several more turns with Shappa’s sling, which he decided he preferred after trying a few of the others. Everyone wanted to demonstrate his skill, and as the boys grew accustomed to Eskkar’s presence, their nerves steadied, their voices rose, and the ability to strike the target improved.

Not that he cared much about an individual’s expertise. Eskkar wanted to see how effective a group of slingers could be. Working with five at a time, he had them rain stones on the abused barracks’ wall, which soon looked like it was in danger of crumbling back to the mud. He still had trouble imagining the force with which the stones landed. Any enemy struck in the head would be going down, even if he happened to be wearing a helmet. Hits on arms and legs would be painful and slow a fighter down, probably taking him out of the battle.

The sun moved across the sky, but Eskkar never noticed. Midday came and went, and he kept the boys at it.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Eskkar?”

He turned to see Trella standing behind him, Annok-sur at her side. Trella must have been there for some time. Her usual four bodyguards accompanied her, all of them watching the performance. Trella held a basket in her arms. The smell of fresh bread made him realize how hungry he felt, and that he’d promised Trella he would return to the house at midday to join her. A glance at the sky told him that it was closer to mid-afternoon than noon.

“Trella, I’m sorry …”

She laughed and touched his arm. “I haven’t seen you this excited in a long time. All of you, playing like children.”

He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Did you see them make throws? Some are good. Others …” he took her arm and guided her more to the side where they might be safer from an errant throw.

“Since you missed your meal, I brought you and Grond some bread.” She handed a loaf to each of them.

Eskkar tore a hunk of bread from the loaf and took a bite. “We forgot to eat. We’re were having too much fun.”

“That wall is going to collapse soon. The whole barracks may come down.”

“These stones … when they land … they could smash a man’s ribs, knock him off his feet. They’re hot to the touch after they strike the wall. I wonder why?”

“I don’t know, husband. Let me think about it. Does it matter?”

“No. What matters is that a good slinger can cast stones very quickly and with good distance and accuracy.” He finished another mouth of bread. “These boys are too small and weak to make good swordsmen or archers or spearmen, but they can still kill, if they’re used right.”

He glanced around, feeling guilty for having the bread when the others had none. A few boys were still slinging stones at the wall, but most of the others sat on the ground, taking a rest, watching the king and queen.

“Enough slinging.” Eskkar’s voice caught everyone’s attention. “Come here and sit down.”

The boys moved closer to where Eskkar, Trella, and Grond stood. Most of them had never seen Lady Trella, since she seldom left the house and its grounds. Of course they all knew the stories told about her, and curiosity had them staring at her with their mouths open. Some forgot their manners and stared, in the way of young boys, at the nipples pushing up against her dress.

Eskkar bunched them closer so that he could see their faces. Each looked tired, covered with sweat, and full of excitement, some still talking about what they had done. The moment Eskkar started speaking, they quieted down.

“Each of you came here today because you wanted to fight Akkad’s enemies.” Eskkar let his eyes meet each and every face. “To be an archer or spearman or swordsman requires both great strength and size. All of you would be turned away if you tried to join those ranks. I wasn’t sure that a
sling could be effective in a real battle. But today you’ve proven to me that men of smaller stature can fight and kill as well as any bowman or spear-carrier. I’ve seen that, in your hands, slings can be a deadly weapon, and soon Akkad will need all the weapons and men it can find. Those of you who want to fight our enemies will be given the chance. If you do not want to fight, then you should leave now.”

He waited a moment, giving them time to consider, but, of course, not a boy moved. All of them were caught up in the moment. Right now, they would do anything and everything he asked of them.

“If you stay, you’ll have a safe place to sleep and enough food to eat.” Both those were important. Half of them looked as if they hadn’t eaten in days. “You’ll even be paid, first as a recruit, then after you master your skills, as a soldier. In return, you’ll work hard and train every day. In time, the best of you will train the others. For now, Shappa and Nivar will take charge of your training, for as long as they show themselves worthy.”

Food, shelter, and an occasional copper coin would be more than most of them had ever had or expected. Every upturned face shone with happiness and pride.

“When the time comes to fight, you’ll be assigned to where you’ll do the most good. But I promise you that Akkad’s bowmen and fighters will be at your side, to make sure you do not stand alone. Are you with me?”

They all shouted at once, speaking so quickly Eskkar couldn’t be sure of what anyone said. It didn’t matter. They would join, they would train, they would fight. Many of them, he knew, would die, but that didn’t matter now, either. He turned to Trella.

She nodded, and he knew he’d done well, binding more recruits to his side.

“Shappa, take your men to Gatus. Tell him to find quarters for you, and that you’ll start training in the morning.” No doubt Gatus was expecting them. He would have understood the implications of the sling at once.

“Yes, Lord Eskkar.”

“And the first thing you’ll do is make some real targets and repair that wall, before it falls down.”

That made them laugh. Eskkar grinned, too. He placed his arm around Trella’s shoulders and led the way back to their house, their guards falling in behind and in front.

That night, a weary Eskkar lay back in bed, Trella curled up against
his side. Their lovemaking relaxed him, almost as if he’d fought and conquered a real enemy today. “My arm is sore.”

Trella started to shift her position, but he held her tight. “No, not that arm. My throwing arm. And my fingers are still swollen. I can’t believe how difficult it was to sling those stones, how much force it took.”

“Do you really think slingers can help the soldiers? They looked so small, so young.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll find good use for them. Everyone sees the sling and thinks of it as a child’s weapon, or something for shepherds to frighten off wolves. But those stones can kill. Akkad is full of boys and young men, all eager to join Akkad’s army and fight Akkad’s enemies. They’ll cost almost nothing to arm and supply, and they might prove very useful in certain kinds of fighting. Now all I have to do is make sure that when we face Akkad’s enemies, the slingers have a role to play, and possibly even a chance to survive.”

“You think most of them will be killed?”

“No, not most, but many. If they come against swordsmen or archers, they’ll be cut to pieces. But they’re young, small, and quick, and that can sometimes keep a man alive when brute strength isn’t enough. It all depends on how we use them in battle.”

“What kind of fighting?”

The question held more than idle curiosity. Everything interested Trella, and every time she bent her will to a task, she found a way to improve it.

“Well, first of all, I think they could be very useful in hilly country, places where a horse can’t go, places where sword or spear-fighters have trouble traversing. Slingers could harry an enemy from above. They could also act as scouts, or rearguards, to keep enemy horsemen at bay.”

“Wouldn’t horsemen just ride them down?”

“Everyone thinks so, but I’m not so sure.” He shifted in the bed to face her. “These boys are small and quick. I think they could get out of the way of a charging horse, dodge the rider’s sword. If they carried knives, knives with very sharp blades, they could hamstring the horse as it went by. I’ve seen that done before.”

“The knife would need to be longer than most. Wouldn’t a curved blade be more effective for such a task?”

All knives and short swords were straight. Some long swords were cast with a slight curve to them, but Eskkar distrusted them. It made the blade
heavier without increasing the length, and favored a slashing cut, rather than a thrust. Sometimes that would be more useful, especially on horseback, but he’d fought with a straight blade all his life and didn’t intend to change now.

“For men on foot,” he said, almost thinking out loud, “a curved blade would be better. It would cut deeper and across a greater length of flesh or muscle.” He pictured the scene in his mind. “If we armed the slingers with curved blades, and taught them how to strike at the horse’s rear legs, I’m sure they could bring horse and rider down.”