More weeks passed, with Esk kar too busy to notice Trella’s quiet maneuverings or to care about them if he did. Instead he worried about Jalen. Almost three weeks overdue, Esk kar feared not only had he lost a capable commander, but that he lacked any information about the barbarians’ progress or location.
An even gloomier thought troubled him-if they’d captured and tortured Jalen, the Alur Meriki would know all about Esk kar’s plans.
He didn’t want them sending a raiding party early, before they fi nished the wall.
Whatever Jalen’s fate, Esk kar needed to send out another patrol, one he’d lead himself. The barbarians must be located, and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it. Men continued to arrive with stories of barbarian hordes only a few paces behind them, but almost all their sightings had no value.
As each day passed, Esk kar worked harder to appear confident.
More than two months had elapsed since Esk kar became captain of the guard. Each day he met with Corio and Sisuthros to talk about the wall’s progress. Their work proceeded smoothly, and Esk kar had no doubt the wall would be completed in time. Nevertheless he needed Jalen’s information. He decided to wait three more days for Jalen. Then he’d lead the second scouting party himself.
This morning’s training had gone poorly. Esk kar’s worries distracted him, and a sword swung by an eager recruit had struck Esk kar’s head and knocked him to the ground. If the blade had been bronze instead of wood, he’d be dead.
A few hours after the sun reached its zenith, one of Bantor’s messengers found Esk kar at Corio’s side, inspecting the day’s progress. “Captain, Bantor asks you to come to the gate. There are travelers there who wish to speak with you.”
“Tell Bantor I’m on my way.” Esk kar smiled at the grinning youth, who dashed off at a run to return with this new message. Esk kar bade goodbye to Corio, then followed the path to the main gate, where he found Bantor and two guards speaking to three strangers.
As Esk kar approached he understood why the travelers stood out from those who wandered into Orak. These strangers must come from a land far to the north, where men had darker beards and hair that contrasted with their lighter skin. All were unusually tall and well muscled. Even their clothing looked odd, a mix of leather and somber colors rather than the raw linen or flax shades preferred by those in the surrounding countryside.
Each stranger carried a heavy bow and a fat quiver full of arrows, but no sword or axe, only a long dagger at each hip. A small ass, tethered a few steps away, rested wearily under its load of packs, blankets, and cooking utensils, no doubt holding all the travelers’ worldly possessions.
“Greetings, Bantor.” Esk kar nodded to the accompanying guards as well. He tried to remember as many of his men’s names as he could. When he couldn’t recall a name, he still gave each man some kind of greeting.
It pleased him to see a simple gesture of recognition made them stand a little straighter.
“Greetings, Captain,” Bantor replied. “These travelers asked to speak to the leader of the village, and I thought it would be better for you to meet them here.”
Bantor had learned much in the last few months. In the beginning he would probably have directed them to Esk kar’s house and forgotten about them. Now he kept them under guard until his captain could determine what to do with them.
Esk kar turned to the newcomers, easily selecting the oldest and guessing by his age and resemblance that he was the father of the other two.
“Greetings. I’m Esk kar, captain of the guard.”
Esk kar was one of the tallest men in Orak, but he found himself looking straight into the eyes of all three strangers, an unusual sensation for him. “What business brings you here?” He knew they weren’t merchants or farmers. Even the boys, the youngest probably no more than fifteen seasons, looked hard and capable.
The elder man bowed slightly to show he considered himself an equal.
“My name is Totomes, and these are my sons, Narquil and Mitrac. We’ve come south to fight against the Alur Meriki. We may consider fighting with your village if, indeed, you plan to fight.” The man’s voice had a strong accent and his words came slowly, as if he had to translate each thought into words.
Esk kar’s eyes narrowed. Not one villager in twenty knew the name of the advancing steppes people. Most villagers thought all barbarians the same, and the fact that a particular clan actually might have a leader with his own name never seemed to occur to them. The Alur Meriki took their name from one of their early leaders, though Esk kar knew the original Alur Meriki had been dead for at least a hundred years.
That these strangers would know such a name seemed unlikely, unless they had some encounters with them. “Why do you wish to fight them?”
Instead of replying, Totomes leaned closer to Esk kar’s face, staring hard into his eyes before drawing back. “You’re from the steppes yourself, Captain, are you not? From what clan do you come?”
Esk kar felt his mouth harden at the unexpected question, one that few dared ask, and he felt tempted to order them out of the village. Instead he remembered Trella’s warnings about losing his temper. “I’ve been gone from the steppes people for nearly twenty years, Totomes, and here in Orak it’s rude for strangers to ask too many questions. Now, what’s your business here?”
“Our business is to kill as many Alur Meriki as we can. That’s why I ask you-from what clan do you come?”
“If you wish to fight, go back through the gate and head north. I promise you’ll find all the Alur Meriki you desire.” He turned to the men standing behind the strangers, keeping his voice calm but firm. “Escort these visitors outside the village and see them on their way.”
The youngest put a hand to his bow though it remained strung across his chest. “If you touch that bow again, boy, you’ll leave here without it.”
As Esk kar spoke, the guards behind the strangers drew their swords with a rasp and moved apart, while Bantor stepped to the side and put a hand on his sword.
Totomes spoke sharply to his son in a language strange to Esk kar’s ears, and the youth immediately took his hand from the bow shaft. “My son Mitrac still has much to learn about the ways of strangers. But I warn you that should anyone try to take one of our bows, they will die.”
Esk kar kept his voice calm. “I think you should be on your way before my guards put their swords in your backs or I regret my generosity. You’ll do no killing in Orak.”
“Are you the ruler of Orak,” Totomes said, his temper flaring, “that you can threaten those who want to enter your village even though they wish to fight against the barbarians?” Esk kar stared for a moment at Totomes. These men were hard of head, no doubt of that, but they looked ready to fight barbarians, or anyone else for that matter. They’d journeyed through a countryside filled with warriors, bandits, and thieves, and had somehow managed to survive.
The fact that they were foreign to these lands made that journey more remarkable. Travelers from distant lands took more risks in their journeys, always the first choice of robbers, since the victims would have no kin to demand revenge. One more reason why most men seldom traveled more than a few miles from where they were born.
Esk kar glanced at the bow the man was carrying. It was hard to judge its size, stretched diagonally across the man’s back, but it looked to be a foot longer than the ones Esk kar’s men trained with, which might make it a formidable weapon. Esk kar glanced at the weapons of the two boys. Their bows were every bit as long as their father’s.
Someone behind him coughed. Esk kar realize a crowd had formed, everyone frozen in place, ignoring the hot sun and staring at the men, caught up in the sudden tension and expecting to see blood spilled at any moment. He decided that such men as these could be useful, but harsh words had been spoken and now needed to be undone. He wondered what Trella would do. Probably offer them a cup of water. Or wine. Well, why not? He turned to Bantor.
“See that care is given to their animal.” He turned back to Totomes.
“Follow me.”
Without waiting for a reply Esk kar turned on his heel and began retracing his steps, walking purposefully and moving at a good pace. His guard struggled to keep up with him, and Esk kar resisted the urge to turn around to see whether Totomes and his sons were following. Traveling down the main street of Orak, he turned left on a smaller lane and almost immediately entered a small tavern, one that catered to travelers.
He paused for a moment, letting his eyes accustom themselves to the dim light, and he felt his bodyguard bump into him. Not many customers patronized the alehouse at that hour, and the innkeeper’s largest table stood empty. Esk kar headed there, calling out to the serving girl as he went. “Ale for myself and my companions.”
He sat down facing the door and saw the strangers standing just inside the doorway, squinting into the darkness. Esk kar motioned to his bodyguard. “Sit down and keep your hand off your sword.”
The guard grinned with admiration. “Captain, I thought they was going to stick us both in the back.”
Esk kar smiled grimly. “We could use men like these. Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.” He kept his voice low as Totomes approached the table and stood hesitantly before it, looking around the shadowy room.
“Are you going to stand there or sit down and drink some ale? Or aren’t you thirsty after your travels?”
Totomes looked as confused as he’d been angry, and before he could reply or even sit, the serving girl approached carrying five wooden beakers and a large bucket of ale. As the men stood there, she expertly poured the dark brown brew into the cups.
“I hope, girl, that this is decent ale,” Esk kar remarked as she finished. “I wouldn’t want my friends to be offended.”
She giggled, then looked at him with a provocative smile. “Our finest ale, Captain, in our best cups. Anything you want, anything, just ask.” She smiled at him, then gave a quick bow and walked off.
Totomes slipped his bow over his head and placed it lengthwise across the table between himself and Esk kar. His sons followed his example and sat down on either side of their father. The table was scarcely longer than the bows.
Esk kar raised his cup. “Welcome to Orak, Totomes.” He searched his memory for a moment, then added, “Narquil, Mitrac,” glad that he had repeated the boys’ names in his mind when he heard them, another trick he’d learned from Trella. “My name is Esk kar, and this is my lazy bodyguard for the day, Hykros.”
Totomes picked up his cup and matched Esk kar’s gesture. “To Orak.”
The five men all drank deeply, though Esk kar put his cup down first, still half — full. “I’m glad that we left the gate, Captain. I don’t like weapons at my back.”
“If we’re going to talk, Totomes, we might as well do it in the shade and with a drink in our hands. But if you think you’re any better off here than at the gate, you’re mistaken. I can have you driven from Orak at any time.
You’ve no place to go inside the village where you couldn’t be found.”
Totomes considered that for a while, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” He drank more ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “We came here looking for a chance to kill barbarians. In the countryside, men say Orak is planning to resist them, though I don’t see how that’s possible. But we decided to come and see for ourselves.”
“Oh, it’s true enough.” Esk kar leaned back against the rough wall.
“Though we may all die in the trying. As you saw when you passed through the gate, we’re building a wall around the village. When it’s completed, we intend to fight the barbarians from it and kill them with arrows.”
“You’ll need many bowmen for that, Captain,” Totomes remarked.
“And skillful ones. Barbarians aren’t easy to kill, even with arrows. We should know. My sons and I have killed many in the last two years.”
Esk kar considered those words. If these three had been fighting the steppes people for the last few years and managed to survive, they must indeed be capable. He picked his words carefully. “I don’t wish to offend, Totomes, but how have you been able to survive so long? Unless there are more of you somewhere.”
An expression of sadness passed over Totomes’s face. “Our people live far to the north, high on the steppe, near the great northern sea, where the clime is much colder than here. An earthquake forced my clan to move south, and we’d started to build a new home when our camp was attacked by an Alur Meriki raiding party. They killed almost all of us. My brother, my wife, and several children, all dead.” He looked down into his ale cup.
“My sons and I, and some others, were away, exploring in the mountains, looking for ores and timber. When we returned, we saw the barbarians riding away. Not all of our clan were dead when we arrived. Many had been tortured and mutilated, then left to die. My sons watched their mother’s slow death.”
Totomes glanced at his sons. “Those of us who remained swore a blood oath to take revenge, and fourteen of us began to trail the barbarians. Some of us died fighting them, and others have turned back. But my sons and I have not yet killed enough to satisfy our oath.”
Esk kar nodded in sympathy, though it was an old story to him, one repeated a hundred times. “Well, Totomes, if you wish to kill barbarians, you’ve come to the right place, providing that you can take orders. I need as many expert archers as I can fi nd, and more than that, I need men who can teach others. Even now, we’re training men to use the bow.”
Esk kar glanced down at the bows resting on the table. In the dim light they appeared different from any he’d ever seen. “May I examine your bow? I don’t think I’ve seen one quite like it.”
That brought smiles to their faces. “Nor are you likely to, Captain.”
Totomes handed him one of the bows. “They’re a new design that my grandfather created, made from the heartwood of a special tree that grows only in certain parts of the steppe. The wood closest to the heart of the tree is thicker and stronger than the outer wood, so it acts as if two pieces were glued together.”
Esk kar examined the bow carefully, aware from his experiences with Rufus the bowyer that he had just learned a great secret. The bow had considerable heft but was not so weighty as he had expected. Lifting the bow toward the light, he saw that it was indeed made from a single piece of wood.
Esk kar knew a bow made from only one piece of wood could not take much stress and certainly could not fire a heavy arrow any great distance.
The wood on the outer side of the bow had to bend so much farther than the wood on the inner side and so tended to break. To solve that problem, the bowyers fashioned their war bows from several pieces of wood bent at differing angles, joined into a center socket and held together with glue.
On Totomes’s bow the wood on the inside looked as if it had been dyed, but closer inspection revealed only the wood grain’s normal color-ing. The bow’s center had been wrapped with thin cords and leather strips to add strength as well as to provide a better grip. Putting the bow down, he looked at Totomes. The man took an arrow from his quiver and handed it to Esk kar.
Esk kar noted that it was almost three inches longer than the arrows his own men used and so slightly heavier, but otherwise seemed no different.
“How far can such a bow fling an arrow like this?”
“We can hit whatever we aim at up to two hundred paces with the full weight of the arrow. The bow can shoot such a shaft well over five hundred paces. We’ve hit targets at even longer distances.” A hint of pride sounded in his voice.
That sounded like boasting to Esk kar, but he let it pass. Hitting anything at two hundred paces was fine shooting. Handing the arrow back to its owner, he picked up his ale cup. “So what are your plans, Totomes? If you wish to stay and fight, then you’ll fight under my command and follow my orders. Otherwise, you may stay a few days in Orak to rest and buy what you need before you move on. I cannot have fighting men loose in the village. All men carrying arms in Orak are under my command.”
“I’m the leader of my clan. I cannot take orders from… others.”
“Well enough,” Esk kar answered, sipping at the last of his ale. “Then in three days, you must leave. If you’re still here, I’ll take your bows and whatever else of value you have and have you driven from the village.”
He stood up. Hykros did the same. “You can sleep here in safety, and they’ll not charge you too much now they’ve seen you drinking with me. Good day, Totomes.” Esk kar nodded to the two boys and started to walk out.
Totomes rose also, “Captain, please stay. There’s still much I would discuss with you.”
Esk kar turned and stared at the man until Totomes let his eyes drop.
“You say you’re the leader of a clan, Totomes, but your clan is dead or far from here, and now you have only these boys following you. You say you wish to fight, but here in Orak we fight the barbarians my way or not at all.”
Esk kar let that sink in, but continued before Totomes could reply. “If you wish to stay, then you pledge yourself to me until the barbarians are defeated and gone, or until we are all dead. You’ll obey me in all things, as does every other man who fights in my command, and you’ll draw the same pay. If you can use those bows as well as you claim, you’ll help train my archers, and that will keep you from carrying rocks or digging ditches, though you’ll do that, too, if need be. I’ve said all that needs to be said.
Choose now.”
Totomes stood there, pride struggling with his desire for vengeance.
Narquil, who looked to be the older of the boys, spoke to Totomes in his own language. They exchanged words, and even the younger boy had his say. Totomes turned back to him.
“I accept your offer, Captain. Will you please sit down,” he asked.
“There’s much we would like to know.”
Esk kar bowed formally, sealing the bargain, and returned to his seat.
The serving girl, who had stood there listening to every word, rushed back with more ale, and poured another round. “Then I’m glad to have you join our forces, Totomes, and there is much…”
The door flew open with a crash that startled patrons and customers alike. Everyone’s hand reached for knife or sword, the bright sun illuminating the same messenger who’d summoned Esk kar earlier. “Captain!..
Bantor says come to the gate at once!” He gasped a moment to catch his breath. “Riders are coming. He thinks it may be Jalen!”
Esk kar bolted upright, bumping his head on the low ceiling, and started toward the door before he remembered his new recruits. “Hykros, take Totomes and his sons to Gatus. Tell him we have new instructors for the archers, then bring them to my house.”
Esk kar ducked under the doorway and began to run, the messenger leading the way back to the gate As Esk kar reached the gate, Bantor descended the last steps of the wooden ladder that provided access to the top of the wall, a big smile on his face that grew even larger when he saw his captain.
“Is it Jalen?” Esk kar couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.
“I think so. It looks like his horse, at least.”
Walking with Bantor to the gate, he looked down the road and saw a small group of horsemen riding slowly toward them. He counted four men, only two less than had departed, and when they drew closer, he noted that the youthful servant had survived, though two fighting men obviously had not. Esk kar stood at the side of the old wooden gate as a group of villagers rushed through. A hand took his, and he looked down to see Trella had joined him.
“How did you hear so quickly?” he asked, putting his arm around her, enjoying her touch. He looked behind him to make sure her guard was present, since his own had been left with the visitors. A few of Drigo’s men remained, though most had left weeks ago. While the danger from Drigo’s followers had lessened, the number of villagers who had no kind thoughts for Orak’s war leader and his hard discipline had increased.
“Bantor wasn’t sure where you’d gone, so he sent a messenger back to the house. The boy told us about the three archers that you turned your back on and invited to go drinking after they threatened to kill you.”
Esk kar laughed. “It wasn’t like that, Trella. They’re interesting folk, though.”
“No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” she answered, tightening her grip on his hand.
“But I’d like to meet them.”
“You will, tonight. We’ve just enough room in the small house for three more, I think.”
Conversation ceased as Jalen trotted through the gate in a swirl of dust to the cheers and shouts of the crowd. He swung down from his horse, stiff from his long ride. Esk kar found himself hugging his lieutenant, pounding him on the back, while the villagers called out Jalen’s name.
“Gods below, Jalen, I’d given you up for dead days ago! Now you ride in as easy as can be. Come back to my house. We can talk there.”
“By the gods, it’s good to be back.” Jalen glanced up at the wall, his mouth agape at the sight. “And much has changed since I left.” He stepped back to his horse and untied a leather pouch from his blanket, then followed Esk kar and Trella as they headed home. Halfway there they found Nicar waiting for them in the street. He invited them all to his house, saying the other nobles would be coming there as well.
Moments later Nicar’s guests filled his meeting room to capacity, with every seat and stool occupied. A dozen others stood wherever they could find space. All waited for Jalen.
He’d stopped to wash up, though Esk kar knew it would take more than a few moments at the well to remove the smell of horseflesh from body and clothes. The room already felt warm from the presence of so many bodies.
Once again Esk kar sat at the foot of the table with Trella near his side. Gatus, Sisuthros, and Bantor stood behind their captain. When Jalen entered, damp from his washing, he wore one of Nicar’s old tunics, a garment too large for his frame. Jalen sat down in the last open seat, next to his captain, and drank from the wine cup already poured in front of him.
“Noble Nicar, I thank you for your wine and the loan of your tunic.
Mine is not worth saving, I’m afraid.”
“Whatever you want, you have only to ask,” Nicar answered. “But come, we’re eager for news. Did you find the barbarians?”
The smile disappeared from Jalen’s face. “Yes, I found them, and there’s much to tell.” He reached for the leather pouch he’d entrusted to his captain. Jalen removed the cloth map and spread it out on the table. Torn at the edges and dirty from much handling, it had obviously served its purpose well. Esk kar saw many new threads sewn onto it.
All heads craned toward the cloth as if its secrets would be clearly visible. Looks of concern replaced the smiles as they wondered what news they would hear. Jalen put down his wine and began his tale.
“Before we’d gone five days, we began to hear word about the Alur Meriki. As we went farther north, we met people moving west, and we learned of raiding parties that ranged far to the northeast. To avoid those, we traveled closer to the river, and there was little activity for another week until we began to encounter many folk moving south trying to stay ahead of the main party. Many of these people knew of Orak and were heading here. Have any arrived?”
“Yes, more and more are on the roads, all coming here,” Esk kar replied.
“Some stay, if they’re willing to fight or work. Others camp outside and move on in a few days.”
Jalen nodded. “More will come. We continued to ride north for another week and began to see small scouting parties, five or ten barbarians. We ran south each time they saw us. Once they chased us for a full day before we lost them. Thank the gods for our strong horses. Each time, we circled back north again and moved farther away from the river.”
Esk kar leaned forward, his eyes hard. “You saw no big raiding parties, only scouts?” They should have encountered at least one large band of warriors.
“Yes, only scouts. We couldn’t continue north, so we moved east. We talked to many travelers and even some bandits. The farther east we went, the clearer things became.”
Jalen drank again from his cup. Every eye rested upon him. “The barbarians have a plan. The main body of the tribe, with at least seven or eight hundred warriors, is coming slowly toward us, more or less following the river. Two large raiding bands are ranging far to the south and east of the main body, killing everyone in their path or forcing them to head west.” He put his finger on the map, and everyone stood or left his seat to get a closer look, the nobles jostling each other, dignity forgotten.
Jalen pointed at some red threads. “Here is where the main camp is, or was about two weeks ago. They travel slowly and stay close to the river.
The raiding parties range eastward, sweeping everyone toward the river.”
Again Jalen pointed to the map, indicating two curved seams of black threads that hooked far to the southeast. “They ride great distances, but always to the east and south, though sometimes they send captives and loot back to the main camp. They do that every week or so, and perhaps they exchange men as well, so all can share in the looting.”
Esk kar stared at the map, as did the others, but already he could understand the strategy. He sat there, lost in thought, until Nicar’s words interrupted him.
“Well, Esk kar, what do you make of it? It seems they may pass us by if they are raiding so far to the east. When the river bends, the main party may continue eastward. That’s the path they traveled the last time they passed through these parts.”
Esk kar glanced at Jalen and saw that his subcommander understood all too clearly what the barbarians had in mind. Esk kar leaned over the map, tracing on it with his finger.
“The main body follows the river Tigris, and right now that group is traveling almost due east. When the river bends, they’ll continue to follow it and will be moving southeast. When the river straightens, they’ll be heading almost due south, and we’ll be right in their path. By then these raiding parties will be ranging far to the southeast of Orak, and they’ll start to move toward us as well, first driving west, then north. They’ll approach Orak from the south, following the river and driving anyone seeking to escape from Orak back toward us.” He looked up at the men and saw them all listening intently to him, mouths open, as they tried to grasp his meaning.
“This time the barbarians are not just passing nearby, and we’re not just another village near their path. This time they make straight for Orak.
We’re their main destination. They herd everyone toward us, knowing that the crowds of escaping farmers and villagers will overwhelm us with their numbers even as they concentrate all their goods and livestock here. They expect to pluck a rich prize before they move on.”
Esk kar’s words silenced everyone for a moment before Nicar spoke.
“How sure can you be of this, Esk kar? They could still turn east and not head directly here.”
Nicar’s question rang of desperation. They heard the words, but not what they meant. “Tell them, Jalen. Tell them what you think.”
“I think it’s as Esk kar says,” Jalen said. “They’re coming here. Otherwise the main band would have turned east weeks ago. That’s why they’re moving so slowly. They want people to get word of their approach and to come here, thinking themselves safe, until they have nowhere to go. The village will be overwhelmed with people from the countryside. The barbarians know there’s no easy ford of the Tigris for forty miles on either side of Orak.”
That put another thought into Esk kar’s head. Pulling the map toward him for a moment, Esk kar glanced at it and grunted, then shoved it back toward the center of the table. “Yes, and eventually they’ll send a band of warriors across the river to make sure nobody crosses over, even from the ford here. That will keep us penned up. They won’t care whether Orak resists or not. We’ll have nowhere to run.”
For a long moment no one uttered a sound, each man deep in his own dark thoughts of the future.
Caldor, the younger son of Nicar, broke the silence. “You speak of ignorant barbarians having a strategy just because they wander along the river! They may just as soon head back the way they came as come here.”
Nicar whirled toward his son, his voice hot with anger. “You are not to speak at this table unless asked to. If you’re unable to obey, leave.” The words chilled the room. Everyone remembered the brash words of another youth killed in this very room. Caldor flushed red at the rebuke and sat back in his chair, looking away from the group. Everyone turned to Esk kar, expecting an outburst of some kind.
Esk kar heard Trella’s stool scrape softly on the floor behind him, a reminder she was close by. He didn’t answer Caldor directly, responding as if Nicar himself had asked it.
“If any here think the Alur Meriki leaders, who’ve led their clan through hundreds of battles and thousands of camps, are not capable of planning their route with care and forethought, you are mistaken. If you think that it takes no wits to rule three or four thousand people, organize hunting and food gathering, repair your own wagons, smelt your own ores, forge your own bronze, make your own tools, and raise your own livestock, all while moving hundreds of miles, then you’re even more mistaken. If we make mistakes of that kind, we’re as good as dead or captured.”
No one said anything in answer, and they avoided looking at Caldor.
“Jalen,” Esk kar said, breaking the silence. “Did you get any idea of how big the tribe is? How many men, wagons, horses?”
Jalen clutched the empty cup, no doubt wishing for more wine but too nervous to ask for any. “The great clan has grown. There must have been a joining in the last few years. They say the tribe numbers more than five thousand, not counting slaves.”
Esk kar thought that over as gasps of amazement went around the table. Five thousand was an incredible number of people, more than twice the number of people in Orak. But Esk kar knew it wasn’t the number of clansmen that counted, only the number of warriors they could hurl against the wall. Everyone started talking at once, but Esk kar rapped his cup on the table.
“Five thousand is a great number of people, but only about one in five will be a warrior. The rest are old men, women, and children. At most, there will be fifteen hundred warriors, probably less, maybe only around twelve hundred. It’s a great number of warriors, but we’ll have over three hundred defenders. It will be more difficult, but still possible.”
“When we agreed to defend Orak,” Nestor said, his voice tense with anxiety as he leaned across the table, “we spoke of possibly six or seven hundred barbarians. Now we speak of twice that number, and you say it’s still possible? Are we mad to think we can stop that many barbarians?”
“The wall can stop them.” Corio’s words made everyone turn toward him. “It will be high enough and strong enough. I’ve seen Esk kar’s men in their training, firing arrows into targets at a hundred paces, seven and eight shafts each minute. I’ve watched, and I believe what I’ve seen.”
“You’re committed to building the wall,” Rebba countered. “You’re being swayed by your own work. No matter how strong the wall, there won’t be enough men to defend it.”
“It’s true I believe in the wall,” Corio admitted. “But if we can get additional men, then it can be done, I’m sure of it.”
“And where are you to get these additional men?” Nestor shouted, putting his fist hard on the table. He turned to Esk kar. “Your plans to recruit and train are already stretched thin. There are fewer men willing to fight each day. Isn’t that so, Captain?”
Another silence fell over the table as all eyes turned back toward Eskkar. He saw the fear in their faces, and found he had no words. If the barbarians hurled everyone at the wall in one rush, he didn’t know for certain they could be stopped. Everyone waited for his answer.
The sound of Trella’s stool being scraped along the plank floor made every eye turn toward her, including Esk kar’s. “Pardon me, Nobles, for speaking out, but are not the barbarians sending you all the men you desire?” She kept her head bowed as she spoke, properly submissive, her words just reaching their ears.
“By the gods, Trella, you’re right. The more fool I for not seeing it,”
Esk kar’s confidence returned, and he looked first at Trella, then at Jalen, who nodded his head in agreement. “We’ll have more men than we know what to do with. And many of them will be fighting men at that, driven here from all the smaller villages to the south and the east, looking for a chance to strike back. We’ll easily add another hundred or more men, and many will know how to swing a sword.”
He grasped Trella’s arm in excitement. “We can do it! We don’t have to match the barbarians in numbers. One man behind the wall will be worth four or fi ve below it. We’ll have to plan on more people inside the village, but it can still be done.”
“Then you think Orak can be held? Enough men will be found?” The excitement in Nicar’s voice betrayed his emotions.
Esk kar turned back toward the table, the smile that Trella’s words had brought still on his face. “Yes, Nobles, I’m sure we can. With another hundred fi ghting men, we should…” He stopped and turned back toward his slave. “Is there anything else we should be wary of, Trella?”
She lifted her eyes for a moment. “I should not speak at your gathering.”
“Speak up, Trella,” Corio snapped, “and forget those customs. If you have anything to say, just say it and let us decide if it’s worthy.”
Nevertheless Trella kept her voice humble. “Nobles, it seems to me that you will soon be facing the problem of what to do with so many people. If hundreds more farmers and villagers flock to Orak from the south and east, they’ll overwhelm the village, even as you work to defend it. Already there are many strangers in the streets. I fear they interrupt the work or cause other problems. Perhaps you should consider closing the gates to all except those who will fight and their families, and send the rest across the river.”
That sounded wise to Esk kar, and he was about to agree before he managed to get hold of his tongue. Let others speak first, Trella kept telling him. Listen to what they say before you speak, and you’ll know better what to say yourself.
Corio’s voice rose once again. “Yes, by the gods, I’ve already been slowed down by interruptions and people wandering in and out of the work areas, asking stupid questions. Each day it grows worse. It’s hard to keep men working when newcomers stand there gawking.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table. “We’re risking all that we have,” Nicar said, “to save Orak. These strangers owe nothing to us or to the village. Let us take those who we want and send the others away.”
“Fight, work, or move on,” Esk kar said quietly. “That’s what we’ve been saying, and it’s the choice we’ll offer those who can help us. We can establish a camp for the newcomers at the old village site to the south. They can stay there until they decide to move on. That will keep them out of Orak.”
The first people to settle in Orak had dug a well about two miles to the south and lived there for many years before moving the village to its current site.
“More guards will be needed at the gates and at the old site,” Jalen suggested. “And you’ll need more patrols in the countryside.”
Esk kar smiled at that. “We already have over a hundred and eighty men under arms, and well — trained men, too. Another sixty are in training and will be ready in a few weeks. Now that we’ve enough men available, we can increase the number under training.”
“Are you certain you’ll have enough men?” Nicar voiced everyone’s concern.
“Yes, Nicar, I’m sure of it now. I want to have three hundred and fifty men ready to defend Orak, with another five hundred villagers behind them to help fight and carry loads. With that many men, I can hold Orak as long as the wall stands and the food holds out. But I think we’ll need another fifty fighters to send across the river.”
Nestor looked puzzled. “Why send men across the river when they’re needed here?”
“To guard your livestock, Noble. All the spare cattle, sheep, and horses must be moved out of the village and the countryside. We won’t have food or space to keep them here anyway, and the stink and filth would be un-bearable. Besides, the barbarians will learn that we have no livestock here.
It will make them less eager to fight. Remember, gold is not so important to them. Horses first, then animals, then women, that’s how they think. So we send all our beasts away, across the river and to the west, with fifty men to guard them.”
Esk kar reached out and pulled the map toward him, putting his finger on the spot indicating the main barbarian camp. “Jalen, when do you think the barbarians will arrive? Do we have enough time?”
“Based on what I saw and heard, I think they will arrive here in two months or so at the earliest. Raiding parties could be here sooner, of course, but I don’t think that’s their plan. They’re moving slowly, taking their time, enjoying their conquests. They see no need to rush.”
“What if they learn we’re building a wall to stop them?” Nicar asked.
“Won’t that make them change their plans?”
Jalen shrugged. “It’s likely they’ve already heard about our wall. We found plenty of peasants up north who knew we were planning to resist.”
Esk kar pushed the map back to the center of the table. “They won’t change their plans,” he answered firmly. “They won’t believe a wall can stop them. Still, we must take no chances in case a big raiding party arrives early.” He looked at Corio. “How long before the first section is completed?”
Corio must have expected that question. “In a few days, we can seal the main entrance to Orak. The new gate will be ready in a week or so, but until then we can use wagons and men to close it.” He turned toward his eldest son, seated beside him. “Alcinor, you will make the gate functional, even if it’s not fully reinforced, as soon as possible.”
When his son nodded agreement, Corio turned back to Esk kar and the others. “We’ve already speeded up our pace on the wall’s construction.
Materials are arriving in sufficient quantity, and we’ve enough laborers, though we can always use more.” He glanced around the table as he made his commitment. “I will give you your wall at least a month early.”
“What about the ditch?” Nestor inquired. “No one speaks about starting on the ditch.”
“The ditch is the last thing we will do,” Corio said. “Esk kar and I have discussed this. With three or four hundred men, we can dig the ditch completely around Orak in a week or ten days. We’ll do that at the very last moment, so that even if the barbarians learn of the wall, they will not think it very formidable.”
Nicar looked around the table. “Is there anything else we should consider?” Everyone glanced around, but nobody had anything to add. Then Nicar saw Trella’s eyes come up to meet his. “Trella, do you wish to say something?”
She bowed humbly again. “Noble Nicar, I know you’ve discussed flooding the land alongside the village, but no work has started on that. Perhaps now we should prepare to do so in case the barbarians come early. I don’t know how long it will take or how much water will be needed.”
Apparently no one else did either, because no one spoke up. Nicar turned to Rebba, who sat there stroking his beard in thought. Rebba owned two large farms north of the village, and he’d been the original force behind draining the swamps many years ago. In matters of agriculture, he decided what crops would be grown for Orak, how much, and by whom.
His family built the largest irrigation ditches and knew more about moving water than anyone. Rebba took his time thinking, and Esk kar felt his patience about to snap before the man spoke.
“My family will work with Corio’s men to build some wooden break-waters. If we place them properly, we can divert thirty or forty feet of river into the surrounding farms. That should flood the land in less than a day and be more than enough to stop the barbarians from trying to drain the water. After a few days, the water will sink deep into the earth, and the land will return to a muddy swamp that will take months to dry out. We’ll build additional ditches to allow the water to flow where we wish it.”
“I’m sorry that your lands must be covered with water, Rebba,” Nicar answered, “but you know it must be done.”
“Don’t be sorry, old friend.” Rebba smiled resignedly. “The crops would’ve been ruined by the barbarians anyway. Instead the waters will refresh the land and afterward it will be even more fertile than before.”
Nicar’s eyes went around the table and stopped again at Trella. “Anything else, Trella?” His tone was calmer now, and his look encouraged her to speak.
“Noble Nicar, there’s one thing more that you might consider.” She paused, then went on. “When the livestock is sent across the river, you may want to include men from the village, perhaps from your own families. If anything should happen to the animals, Orak would be without food and herds for the coming season. The soldiers may be loyal, but there will be great temptation. Perhaps an equal number of villagers, under your direction, should accompany them, and rewards promised for everyone’s safe return.”
Nicar sat quietly for a moment. “Yes, that’s worth considering. There will be a rich value of livestock and grain, and if it’s not returned safely, Orak will face starvation. We will speak further about it.” He glanced around the table, but no one seemed to have any more words. “Then we’re finished with our meeting. Again, let’s give thanks to the gods for Jalen’s safe return.”
And for his information, Esk kar added to himself. He left the house, his commanders following, and he invited them to dine with him.
Bantor, Jalen, and Sisuthros headed off on their separate ways, but Gatus walked with Esk kar and Trella, though they went in the opposite direction to Gatus’s house. When they were alone in the street, Gatus jerked his head toward Esk kar’s bodyguard to move him out of earshot. Then he grabbed Esk kar by the arm.
“Captain,” he began, moving close to Esk kar, then turning to include Trella. “I’m not sure whether you saw the look on young Caldor’s face when Trella spoke out. I could just catch a glimpse of him seated behind his father. The puppy was hot with anger when his father put him down.”
Gatus scratched his beard. “Well, if looks could kill, young Trella here would already be in the ground.” He looked worried. “You’d better watch him, Esk kar. I wouldn’t put it past him to do some hurt to you or Trella.”
“Gatus, thank you for your concern,” Trella answered kindly. “And for your warning. We’ll be watchful.”
“Good. And if needs be, I can have one of my rogues put a blade in his back. I’ll even do it myself. Just let me know.” He nodded to Esk kar. “Till dinner, then,” and went on his way, striding down the street.
Esk kar looked thoughtfully at Trella, then put his arm around her.
They started walking back to their house, his guard moving in a few steps behind. “Mistress Trella,” he said, echoing the title of honor given to the senior woman of a household. “I see we have much to talk about this evening. Much, it seems, goes on that I know little about.”
“When you have much to say at night, then I know I will be sore the next morning. Though you’ve been too busy and too tired for me lately.”
“Then I’ll have to make time for you. Perhaps you should make sure tonight’s dinner is short and our guests depart early. Afterward, we’ll have plenty of time to… talk.”
“Yes, master.” But she took his hand and held it until they entered the courtyard of the former House of Drigo.