Nicar’s dinner unexpectedly turned into a family affair. His two sons, Lesu and Caldor, had returned that afternoon from a two — week trading trip.
Nicar’s eldest, Lesu, had overseen the small caravan. Leading a pack train of animals loaded with trade goods, he’d escorted seven new slaves his father would resell, no doubt for a fat profit. Trella knew Lesu to be bright and courteous. Only nineteen, he planned to take a wife in a few weeks and would soon be fully capable of carrying on his father’s trading business.
Caldor, a year or so younger than Lesu, sat directly across from Trella.
He fidgeted in his chair for most of the meal, reminding Trella that Nicar’s youngest boy lacked the patience and self — control of his elders. Not that she needed any such reminder. At least tonight he avoided staring at her breasts. She remembered the rough touch of his hands on her body and resisted the urge to shiver.
Nicar must have warned both boys not to provoke Esk kar or to speak disrespectfully to her. Dining in the very room where Esk kar killed two people, Nicar must have wanted to make very sure there wouldn’t be any more accidents. Nobody made the mistake of calling Esk kar a barbarian.
The meal ended at last, Trella and Esk kar left Nicar’s house and passed through the courtyard. As soon as they reached the street, Trella took Eskkar’s hand and held it tight, thankful the evening’s activity had ended. She took several deep breaths, trying to cleanse the memories of that house from her lungs. Nevertheless, she resolved never to return there if she could avoid it.
They walked briskly and Trella had no problem keeping up with Eskkar’s longer stride. She felt Esk kar squeeze her hand in anticipation of the warm bed that awaited them.
“You were very quiet tonight. I thought you’d have more to say to Nicar.”
“It’s not my place to give advice to Nicar, master. Nor should women speak about such things to their men in front of others. At the tables of the nobles, women keep silent when the affairs of men are discussed.” She paused for a moment. “And I didn’t like returning to that house, even to eat. Nothing good happened to me there. I’d prefer never to go back there again.”
They followed the lane as it twisted around a sharp corner. A torch burned at the entrance to the barracks.
“Was it so bad there, Trella? I mean… tell me about it.”
“Please, master, not tonight. It’s just that I’m grateful to be away from that place.”
“Then we won’t speak of it.” He placed his arm around her shoulder as they passed through the rickety fence that marked the entrance to the soldiers’ area. “Perhaps we can speak of other things in our bed.”
She leaned briefly against him in a silent promise. The cool night air had finally driven away the smells and memories of Nicar’s household.
She felt a wave of anticipation rush through her loins, her body already eager for the coming lovemaking.
Once inside their room, Esk kar hung up his sword, then took her into his arms. Her arms went around him, and she held him tightly. They stood that way for a few moments, and she began to relax, enjoying the sensation of being safe once again. The warmth built up between them, and she felt him harden against her.
Esk kar pushed himself away and removed his tunic. “Get under the blanket, Trella.”
She heard the hoarseness in his voice, the first sign of his passion.
“Don’t you want me to build a fire?”
“No. You’re fire enough for me. I’ll keep you warm, I promise.”
He kept his promise, and their body heat soon spread under the blanket.
When their lovemaking ended, she relaxed in his arms while he stroked her hair. The excitement of lovemaking, still so new to her, kept her passion high, and she enjoyed the feel of his body against hers.
“Master, I saw…”
“Esk kar… call me that when we’re alone, and especially in bed.”
She snuggled against him. “Esk kar, I saw tonight that you did not drink much wine, or even eat much. Didn’t the wine and the food please you?”
“I’ve never tasted better wine in all my wanderings. But now I have to train with the men, and too much spirits make a man weak. If I have to make love to you each night, girl, I’ll need all my strength.”
“Nicar worried you drank too much, that you couldn’t be depended on. I heard him say that the day he gave me to you.”
He sighed. “Nicar was right. In the last few months, I spent too much time in the alehouse. If I’d had more coins, I’d have drunk even more.” He laughed, then his voice took a serious tone. “The night Ariamus ran off, I passed out in the tavern and the men carried me to my bed. I could have been killed in my sleep. That must never happen again.”
“You are wise to keep your head clear, master… Esk kar. You will need all your wits, especially when you work with Corio.”
“I’m glad the Families will accept Corio into their ranks. He’s a good man, I think.”
During dinner Nicar had agreed to elevating Corio to the rank of Noble, mentioning that the nobles had considered his name before.
“Young Caldor didn’t think much of your suggestion that Corio join the noble families.”
“Caldor’s just a boy, Trella, fresh off his first caravan, if you can call it that. Scarcely more than sixty miles to the east and back. Two days’ ride for a man with a good horse.” He kissed the top of her head. “How much gold do you think they took from Drigo’s house?”
Nicar refused to reveal how much had been found, though he did say one — quarter of it had been given to Drigo’s wife. She and her daughter, along with their most trusted servants and guards, had boarded a boat and been sent downriver to return to her father’s village.
“At Nicar’s house, I worked with his clerks, and they said that Nicar had more than twelve hundred gold coins,” Trella mused. She remembered her first day in Orak. Nicar had questioned her for almost an hour, tested her, to ensure she could count and write the symbols before he assigned her to work with his senior clerk. She needed only a single day to learn the differences between the symbols used in Orak from those in her native village. Nicar’s clerk soon found her more useful than the other two slaves who served as Nicar’s record keepers. She’d quickly learned the full extent of Nicar’s holdings.
“The clerks gossiped that Drigo was nearly as rich as Nicar. I’d guess at least a thousand gold coins were found, more than enough to start paying for the defense of Orak.”
“No wonder Drigo walked the streets as if he owned them. So much gold and he sought even more. And he wanted to be the First Family in Orak.”
“My father said greed can do such things to a man. Drigo would have torn Orak apart. Do you regret killing him?”
“If he were a beggar in the street, I’d have killed him for insulting you.
No one will ever do that again, I promise.”
His words pleased her, and she turned to him. They shared a long kiss, enjoying the taste of each other. That kiss led to other caresses, and Trella sighed contentedly as she felt Esk kar becoming aroused once again.
“Trella, tomorrow will be a special day for you. After I finish the morning training, we’ll stand before Nicar and the other Families.”
Startled, she raised herself on an elbow to face him. “What? Why do we need to see them?”
“Tomorrow I’ll give you your freedom. I spoke with Nicar when we were alone and asked him how the thing could be done. Nicar will enter it as a contract, with another of the nobles as a witness.”
His words caught Trella by surprise. She pushed herself upright in the bed.
“Why are you doing this, Esk kar? This isn’t the time for such a thing.
Later, perhaps, or when the barbarians are gone. Now, as your slave, I have your status, and I can speak for you. As a free woman, I’ll be just another camp follower, a soldier’s woman.”
“I thought you’d be pleased.” Esk kar sounded stunned. “Besides, I don’t want brats like Caldor looking down at you. As a free woman, you can choose to be my servant, and you can still speak for me.”
“Is that why you’re doing this? So you won’t be embarrassed by a slave who thinks and talks too much?”
“By the gods, no! I do this because I want you with me.” He grasped her roughly by her arms. “And I want you to choose me freely. All my life I’ve never cared for a woman as I do for you. If you say the word, we will leave Orak tomorrow and let the village fend for itself. Orak means nothing to me. Only you mean anything.”
Trella stayed silent for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was firm.
“No, we must stay here, and you must defeat the barbarians. Only then can we have power and be secure. And…” She hesitated now, unsure of what to say. “You say that you want me… that… do you wish to take me for your wife?”
When he didn’t answer immediately, Trella poked him sharply in the ribs. “Well, what are you thinking about? Can’t you make up your mind?”
He laughed and rubbed the spot where she had hit him before lying back on the bed. “Well, I hadn’t thought about taking a wife. I was thinking about that new slave that Lesu had brought back. She looked pretty enough, and well rounded as well. She might do…”
Trella pushed him away and tried to leave the bed, but Esk kar caught her and pulled her back. She struggled hard to break free, but he pinned her with his weight and held her by her wrists as he rolled on top of her.
“You’re very strong for a girl, Trella. I suppose we could be married at Ishtar’s temple after Nicar seals your freedom. Though I’m sure you’ll make a terrible wife, and I will have to beat you regularly.”
He bent down to kiss her but she turned her head away, still struggling.
When she wouldn’t meet his lips, he kissed her neck and her hair, then forced her legs apart, letting her feel his desire against her. Finally she turned her lips to his.
“Trella, I’m not sure what people mean by love, but I’m sure I love you, and want you to be my wife. I swear it before all the gods in the sky and under the earth.”
His body had aroused her. She stopped struggling and moved her legs farther apart, and he slid easily inside her. Her body remained moist from their earlier lovemaking. Trella gave a long sigh of pleasure and her legs slowly wrapped around him.
“I suppose I could marry you. You need someone to look after you.”
Her arms went around him, and she suddenly tightened all of the muscles in her body, gripping him as hard as possible. After a moment, she slowly relaxed, letting Esk kar move against her once again. “And our children will need their father’s name.”
“Children? I hadn’t thought about children.” His hand slid down to her hip.
“Yes, master,” she answered, reverting to her role as his slave. “If we make love like this every night, the gods are sure to send a child soon. Or hadn’t you thought of that?”
The thought of getting her with child excited him. He thrust himself against her even harder, moving faster and faster until she cried out at the pleasure he gave her.
Esk kar made no answer, just forced himself against her with all his strength. Trella felt her body begin to spin out of control and she heard herself moaning. He held back, waiting for her, until her moans of pleasure increased, until she tightened herself around his manhood and cried out his name. She felt his seed flow as he cried out, and a wave of pleasure rippled through her, through both of them, that went on and on until they were exhausted.
He stayed inside of her, not moving, for a long time, until she could barely breathe and she had to ask him to move off her. They held each other for a long time, until her pleasure subsided and she could think again.
Trella felt him drifting off to sleep, so she raised her voice to keep him awake. “You need me to manage your household, to make sure everything is done properly. And there will be many tasks to make sure the village is safe. Drigo’s house is ready for us. We can move in there tomorrow.”
She stayed silent for a few moments. “But you will not free me or marry me yet, though your offer pleases me greatly. I can better help you in the coming months as your slave than as a wife. I will wait. When the barbarians are driven off, then you can set me free if you still wish to.”
“I never heard of any slave refusing their freedom. Suppose I change my mind?”
She touched his lips with her finger. “Then I still have my coin, master.
Or have you forgotten your words already?”
“Keep your golden coin, Trella, or return it to me on our wedding night. And I would never take back my words. No warrior would ever do such a thing.” He kissed her tiredly. “Now can I get some sleep?”
“I’m not the one keeping you awake. Instead of working to defend the village, you spend much of your day and night taking your pleasure. Who else did you tell about setting me free?”
“Only Nicar, and he will tell no one. I made sure of that.”
“Good. Then tell Nicar tomorrow that you’ve decided to wait for a while. Now sleep.”
He turned on his side and fell asleep in seconds. Trella stared up at the darkness, relaxed but wakeful, her body pleasantly reminding her of their passion, her mind turning over Esk kar’s startling offer.
For a soldier recently too poor to afford a decent tunic, he’d been ready to give away a valuable gift. Not that she needed the offer of her freedom to know he cared for her. She could see that in his eyes, and she’d known it from their first morning together when he gave her the gold coin.
Somehow that gift changed her, made her look at him differently, and now she saw in him many admirable qualities that counterbalanced his rough edges and soldier’s habits. His unexpected offer had surprised her.
She had already decided that at some point she’d ask for her freedom, certain that he would give it.
For a moment her thoughts returned to Drigo and his son. Esk kar had killed the son not only to provoke the father but because the boy had insulted her. When the boy demanded his wine, Esk kar’s eyes went cold, and for a brief instant she saw the pitiless warrior that still dwelt within him.
Blood flowed quickly among the barbarians, where an insult could lead to drawn swords and death in moments.
Young Drigo and his father should have left quietly. If they had, they’d still be alive, and the nobles in Orak split in two factions, fighting with each other and creating havoc. Now Drigo’s gold would pay for the village’s defenses, and the nobles stood united behind Nicar.
No man would insult her again, she thought. Tonight, even Caldor had been polite, keeping his eyes off her, no doubt well lectured by his father.
Nicar showed caution as well, seeing Esk kar as a new man, one who now dealt easily with the likes of Corio and Rufus. Nicar would have his own concerns about the future should the barbarians be defeated. But first the village must survive. Like Nicar, she would bend all her efforts to make that happen.
Taking her freedom now would be a mistake. Better to work in the background, both for Esk kar and for herself. A slave’s mistakes could be easily ignored or brushed aside, and they both might need that excuse at any time. Trella had been a slave for over three months, more than enough time to learn the bitter realities.
Unlike someone who sold himself into bondage for a season or two and consequently was treated more like a servant, a bound slave became the property of her master for the rest of her life, with no rights and no expectations. The slave traders had beaten her twice the first week until she learned to obey. A shudder passed through her at what they might have done if they hadn’t wanted the extra price for her virginity. Even so, they’d stripped her naked for their amusement or for any prospective buyers, who examined her much the way they would look at any breeding animal.
Even Nicar had looked at her with lust in his eyes, running his hands over his property. He’d seen only a young girl to be used to give him pleasure. No, the life of a slave was too bitter for her to bear. Trella had lived too well in her father’s house and learned too much to accept such a fate. With the barbarians coming toward them, her status, or even Nicar’s, meant little. Esk kar had told her how even the meanest — treated slave in the village had a better life than any captive in the barbarians’ tents.
Trella shook off the dark thoughts. Much work remained ahead, and the future was uncertain, with no clear path before her. She’d wait for her freedom.
The words of her father came to her: “A good leader thinks six months ahead for his people; a great leader thinks six years ahead.” She pondered the words for a long time. Her master did not seem accustomed to planning more than a few days ahead. He’d need her to guide him and chart out the coming years. Still, he continued to surprise her, coming up with ideas and plans in response to her questions. But only in response to her prodding.
She could see he had the wits but had never learned to use them.
All that would have to change. Yes, she must begin now if she and Eskkar were to survive. Orak would stand or fall by what she and Esk kar did in the next few months, not by what happened when the barbarians arrived on the plain before the village. Her fate and Esk kar’s depended on Orak’s survival. Such thoughts surprised her now, so different from a few days ago. Now she not only wanted Esk kar to survive, but to take his place as a powerful noble in the years ahead.
Her father had planned for her to join some noble family through marriage, and he’d trained her hard for such a role. She’d learned the mysteries of trade and barter, gold and silver, of the farm, and even of the bronze-maker. And each night her father had spoken to her of the events of the day, explaining the choices the rulers faced and the decisions they made.
In her time with Nicar, she saw nothing that she did not understand.
Her father’s dream ended with his own death. Now the barbarian threat loomed over her, providing both great danger and a rare opportunity. If the village survived, Trella would be the wife of the soldier who saved Orak. Esk kar’s family, her children that would come, must survive and grow powerful. Esk kar was a strong man. There would be many babies from his seed.
She felt the first wave of sleep approaching and her thoughts began to slow. Their House must be rich and powerful to protect her and their children. The thought of her children gave her pause and she breathed a prayer to Ishtar. Goddess, give me a son, but not yet. Please, goddess, not yet. Repeating the prayer, she fell asleep, nestled within Esk kar’s clasp.
Next morning, Corio sent word postponing their scheduled meeting to midafternoon and asking that Esk kar come to the master builder’s home. Esk kar didn’t mind. He felt good, having spent the morning training, then watching Gatus put the men through their paces. His second in command loved nothing better than sweating men into soldiers.
None of the men had run off during the night, though of course they had many months and opportunities to do so. In high spirits, they seemed to take pride in the fact that Esk kar would stand and fight beside them.
The news that, starting today, Esk kar and Nicar would begin taking in new men to swell the ranks, added to the soldiers’ good dispositions. Most of the new recruits would be farmers, or villagers driven from their homes, or even just men searching for a new life. Nevertheless, there would be some fighting men among them as well.
Two guards accompanied Esk kar, Trella, and Sisuthros as they walked to Corio’s house. The show of force might not be necessary, but a few of Drigo’s followers still remained within the palisade. And many of Orak’s villagers felt displeasure at Esk kar’s rules forbidding them to leave.
The builder’s home stood on the northeast side of Orak, about as far as one could get from the barracks and the river’s edge and yet be within the palisade. The house had two stories and stood behind a high wall that protected it from the busy street. A stout wooden door led into a small courtyard adorned with well — tended beds of tulips, roses, geraniums, and other greenery that gave a pleasant scent to the air. Parts of the garden were paved with flat stones from the river, set in a mix of hardened mud and straw that would resist all but the strongest rains.
Bringing Sisuthros along had been Trella’s idea. When she’d asked Eskkar which of his subcommanders had the quickest wits, he’d named Sisuthros.
“Choose a man of quick wits to work with Corio while he builds the wall. You’ll have many other things to occupy your time.”
The young subcommander hadn’t looked pleased with the assignment.
Sisuthros wanted to fight, not help build a wall.
Telling the guards to wait in the garden, Esk kar, Trella, and Sisuthros entered Corio’s workroom. Inside, a large plank table awaited them, its surface covered by a thin cotton cloth. Corio, his two sons, and assistants surrounded the table. This time Trella stood at Esk kar’s left, an equal par-ticipant in the proceedings.
Corio seemed in a fine mood, no doubt because of his earlier meeting with Nicar and his elevation to noble family status. Corio extended greetings to all, then introduced his sons and apprentices. Esk kar noticed Corio pointed to each of them with great care, even the youngest, giving honor to all of them. Their chests swelled with pride as he announced their names.
That’s how one builds loyalty, Esk kar realized, by showing respect for one’s people in front of others. Perhaps he could learn from men like Corio and Nicar. Esk kar resolved to remember this practice in dealing with his men.
“Captain of the Guard,” Corio began in a formal manner, “I told you I would answer your question about building a wall to defend Orak. My sons and I have worked long into the night and this morning to answer that question.” He nodded to his assistants and they removed the cloth from the table.
Trella gasped while Sisuthros slapped his sword hilt in amazement.
Esk kar just stared. The map of yesterday had come to life as a model of Orak, only larger, and now it revealed the village and its surroundings. Little blocks of wood represented rows of buildings; the palisade was made of twigs; the river of pale green pebbles. The whole structure stretched about four feet long by three feet wide. Thin, flat strips of wood painted green indicated the farmlands. Corio pointed with his measuring stick, explaining what each miniature item represented.
“This is Orak today,” Corio went on. “Now we’ll change it.” Like magi-cians, his sons began moving things around, removing some features, adding others. In moments, they’d transformed the model. The tiny blocks that represented houses and farms outside the palisade disappeared, a green cloth covering them. A taller wall represented by thin strips of wood set on edge replaced the original palisade, now surrounded on all sides by a narrow cloth ribbon, dyed the brown of the earth to represent the ditch Corio had proposed. The docks vanished, the gates changed to bigger and thicker sticks.
“A wall can be built, Esk kar.” Corio touched the model’s wall with his pointer for emphasis. “The wall will be fourteen feet high around three sides of the village and sixteen feet high on either side of the main gate.
We’ll flood the marshlands and, using water from Trella’s wells, keep the ditch in front of the wall wet and muddy at our need. The distance from the bottom of the ditch to the top of the wall will measure at least twenty — five feet.”
A rare compliment from any master, to give credit to a slave, especially the slave of another. “All this can be built in five months time?”
“It will be a close thing, Captain, but, yes, I believe so, providing everyone works on it as you promised. We must start at once, tomorrow, gathering the things we’ll need, such as wood from across the river and from the forests up north. Only willow and poplar trees grow around Orak, and they’re too soft and too small for our needs. We’ll need hundreds of logs of all sizes, including large ones for the main gate my son will build for you. Most of these will have to come down the river by boat. Messengers and traders must be dispatched at once to buy them. Then stones must be taken up from the riverbed. Fortunately those are close at hand and in good quantity. Next we must set up a site to make the sun — dried bricks in huge numbers. They take weeks to harden properly, so we must start soon with them. We’ll need every shovel and digging tool we can find as well as sand from the hills to the south, wagonloads of sand. And slaves, of course, to do the digging and the other heavy work.”
“Then we start tomorrow,” Esk kar said, staring at the miniature Orak, studying where the wall ended and the marshland began. It looked remarkably like what he’d envisioned from the hillside only a few days ago.
“You must show this to Nicar and the Families. He will be pleased, I’m sure.”
Esk kar turned to Sisuthros and gripped his subcommander’s arm.
“Sisuthros, you see what must be done. A strong hand will be needed to make sure the lumber arrives, the stones moved, the bricks made. Both slaves and villagers must be pressed into work as soon as Corio is ready and kept at it until they drop from exhaustion. Everyone must do his share, even the women and children. There must be no villagers hiding in their huts while others labor. I’ll give you ten soldiers to start. It will be a difficult task, but I’m sure you can accomplish it.”
Sisuthros nodded, fascinated by the model and now eager to undertake the assignment he’d questioned only this morning. “I’ll do it, Captain. It will be worth it to see the faces of the barbarians when they see Corio’s wall blocking their path.”
“Come, there is more. Follow me.” Corio went outdoors, then along the side of the courtyard. Two apprentices waited there.
“These boys built a model of the wall, so that you can get an idea of the scale you’ll be using.”
Using common river mud, the boys had built a wall, about three feet high and four feet in length. At the front side, dirt had been scooped out to represent the ditch. On the back of the wall a platform made of wood rose almost as high as the wall itself.
Corio squatted down and pointed to a doll. The figure held a tiny wooden sword on high and had been positioned in the ditch before the wall. “That’s how high a man will be, standing before the wall. They’ll need long ladders to reach the top.”
He shifted his position to the other side of the wall. “Inside, the wall will be braced every twenty feet by a support wall, which will also carry the weight of the fighting platform. That platform, which we call a parapet, will be built of rough planks and will be four feet lower than the wall and ten feet across. That should be wide enough to allow men to pull a bow or swing a sword or even for some to move along the wall as others fi ght.”
Esk kar joined Corio, squatting down beside him. “How high will the parapet be inside the village?” Esk kar wondered how he was going to get men up and down so that they could fight. Another detail he hadn’t thought about before.
One of the apprentices giggled, apparently at Esk kar’s ignorance, and received a sharp smack across his arm from the measuring ruler Corio still carried. “Keep your mouth still, boy.”
Corio looked annoyed, clearly embarrassed by this flaw in his presentation. All of Corio’s staff must have been warned not to laugh or say anything should any of the ignorant soldiers, particularly their barbarian captain, fail to understand what they saw or be unable to do a simple sum in their heads.
But Sisuthros had the same question. “Yes, Master Corio, how high will it be? We’ll need to move men up and down very rapidly, and they’ll be carrying heavy loads. And we’ll need clear space at the base so men can move quickly from one point to another.”
“The parapet will be ten feet high. We will put wooden ramps or steps inside so your men may mount the wall. We can use lifting poles to haul heavy stones to the top so that you can hurl them down at the attackers.”
“Not wooden ramps, Corio,” Esk kar commented. “At least, not anything that will burn easily. We’ll be getting fire arrows shot over the wall. I want nothing nearby that can burn or even make smoke.”
Fire was always a major hazard in the village, even in the best of times.
The walls of the huts might be made of river mud, but their roofs could be any combination of cloth, wood, or straw, and most burned easily. Cooking fires set roofs ablaze often enough. During the siege, if the villagers detected smoke, many would panic. The defenders would have to be prepared for fi re and smoke, Esk kar decided. Yet one more detail to think about.
“A good point,” Corio conceded. “We’ll build everything using as little wood as possible.”
“Master Corio, if I may,” Trella began, “perhaps we can coat anything inside the walls that might burn with a layer of mud. And we can have women and old men standing by with water buckets to fi ght any fi res that break out. But besides fire arrows, won’t there be many arrows shot over the wall into the village itself?”
“Trella’s right,” Sisuthros agreed. “Arrows will be landing everywhere.
We may need to shelter some of the ground just inside the wall. It may be safest right under the wall.”
Corio nodded thoughtfully. “There will be many such things to consider in the next few weeks.” He stood up and turned to Esk kar. Esk kar rose with him.
“I’ll work with Sisuthros starting tomorrow.” Corio’s eyes looked directly into Esk kar’s. “We’ll give you your wall, Captain. Now you must make sure you have the men to defend it.”