Esk kar awoke with a start, alone in bed, with the morning sun making bright patterns of light on the blanket and the floor. Sitting up, he realized the soft bed had let him sleep at least an hour past sunrise. He’d told Trella to waken him an hour before dawn.
Two hours wasted.
The house seemed strangely quiet as he hurriedly dressed. The outer workroom was empty and the door that led downstairs closed. When he opened it, subdued voices and the smell of crisping meat floated up from the kitchen. He went down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, he found Gatus emerging from the kitchen, dressed for battle, a piece of chicken in his hand.
“Good morning, Captain. I was about to wake you.” Before Esk kar could reply, he continued. “We decided to let you sleep a little longer. All the men are posted at the wall and there are only a few barbarians watching us from the hilltops.” He wrinkled his nose. “You might want to wash up before you eat. You still smell like a horse.”
“Where’s Trella?” Why hadn’t she awakened him? The barbarians might have attacked at dawn.
“Where she’s supposed to be, out with the women.” Gatus took another bite from his chicken leg. “This is good. I think it was supposed to be your breakfast.”
Esk kar swore at the grinning soldier, then strode past him into the kitchen. Bantor’s wife stood there, tending the kitchen fi re, ready with his breakfast. Halfway to the table, he decided Gatus was right.
“Hold the food, Annok — sur.” He went outside to the well, stripping off his tunic and using it to scrub himself down. A servant came and drew bucket after bucket of water for him until Esk kar felt as clean as he could be without a swim in the river. Wrapping his wet tunic around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and dressed again, this time for battle.
He took his time, binding his undergarment tightly around his loins, then donning a clean linen tunic. He strapped on the sandals that Trella had purchased for him that first day, making sure the wide leather straps were tightly knotted around his calves.
The servant entered the bedroom with a knock, holding a thick leather vest. He laced a leather protector onto Esk kar’s lower right arm, then a smaller one onto his upper arm. Esk kar belted the great sword around his waist and thrust his knife, almost as long as the men’s short fighting sword, into his belt. Last the servant offered the bronze casque, the helmet that would protect his head, but Esk kar shook his head. “Leave it. It’s too hot.”
He nodded his thanks to the servant and returned to the kitchen. He wolfed down the remains of the chicken, ripping it apart with his fingers and washing it down with water and handfuls of bread.
“Salt, Annok — sur.” She handed him a bowl containing the rough crys-tals.
Men fighting or working in the heat did better with extra salt, though no one knew why. Esk kar swallowed a bitter mouthful of the gritty stuff, then washed it down with the last of the water.
“Good fortune to you today, Captain,” Annok — sur offered when he finished, wiping her hands clean on a rag and following him to the door.
She would have duties of her own today. “Good fortune to you and Bantor.”
Esk kar turned and stopped so suddenly that she bumped into him.
“And thank you both for what you’ve done for Trella. Bantor is a lucky man to have such a good wife, but don’t tell him I said that.”
She laughed and touched his shoulder. “There are many things I don’t tell Bantor, Captain.”
Esk kar wondered about what things Trella didn’t choose to tell him as he stepped outside into the bright sunlight. His men had converted the courtyard into a command post. Gatus sat at the main table, along with Jalen and a handful of soldiers. A dozen messenger boys were packed into a corner of the yard, all wearing distinctive red bindings around their arms so the soldiers would recognize them and let them through.
Clerks mixed with subcommanders who would coordinate the defenses.
Nicar and the other members of the Families sat at a second table, each with his own duties and his respective attendants. The spacious courtyard barely accommodated those responsible for Orak’s defense.
Esk kar walked over to the main table, reminding himself to take his rest wherever and whenever possible today.
“All the men are in position, Captain.” Gatus spoke formally. “Bantor and Sisuthros are at the gate, along with Corio and his eldest. Jalen has inspected the rear gate. Maldar will command the men on the riverside, and I’ll command the north wall. Hamati and Alexar direct the east and west walls. All the men have been fed and the water buckets are full. Each man has been given his instructions for the hundredth time, though I’m sure they’ll forget them as soon as the first barbarian starts for the wall.”
In a few words Gatus had given Esk kar all the information he needed and at the same time had communicated that all was as it should be.
“So, I should have stayed in bed longer. Maybe you would’ve called me after the fighting was over.”
“They’re not going to attack for hours, even days,” Gatus offered reasonably. “First they’ll try to frighten us with their presence.” He looked squarely at his leader. “Now it’s time to inspect the men and give them some words.”
Meaning I’d better get to work. “Then let’s begin.” With Jalen and Maldar in tow, they walked out to the street where more messengers leaned against the wall. They cheered at the sight of Esk kar and he smiled at them. Yet another surprise waited for him. Four of the Hawk Clan, including two of its newest members, stood waiting.
“This is your personal bodyguard from now on,” Gatus explained.
“These four rogues are the least valuable of the Hawk Clan, so they’ve been assigned as your guard. If they stay sober, they may be of some use.”
Each stood taller than average, two of them with less than twenty seasons, but all with hard muscles stretched tight across their chests. They looked as if they could chew stones for breakfast, though they all smiled at Gatus’s backhanded words of praise. Each wore as much leather armor as he could carry, and every one bore the Hawk Clan emblem on his chest.
Esk kar started to protest, but Gatus cut him off.
“Save your breath. They have their orders, which are to keep you alive.
So don’t bother trying to order them away, and don’t try to take any foolish risks. They won’t allow it.” He started walking, not waiting for an argument.
Esk kar shook his head and strode after him. Esk kar saw few people in the normally crowded lanes, most of whom called out nervous greetings. At the main gate, the last of the dwellings behind the structure had been torn down, leaving a clear space roughly fifty paces in length. That opening narrowed as it followed the wall in each direction, but there were always at least twenty paces from the wall to the nearest building, so men and equipment could move easily from point to point.
He stared up at the gate. Four great timbers braced it, two to each side, resting in holes dug deep into the earth and reinforced with rock. Across the top, small wooden troughs ran the length of the opening, already filled with water. A catwalk extended underneath the troughs, so men could tip the contents over the top of the gate to put out fires.
This top platform could also hold a dozen archers who’d be able to shoot through slits carved into the gate. Another platform, wider and stouter, hung just below it, with more slits for the defenders. The structure’s outer surface, hardened by fire, would be slow to reignite, but Esk kar knew there was nothing wooden that couldn’t be made to burn. A gang of women waited nearby, ready to replenish the troughs with buckets of water as needed throughout the day.
On each side rose a square tower, ugly in its unfinished rock and mud bricks, but rising above both wall and gate, allowing the archers to fire down at anyone directly below.
Corio’s oldest son, Alcinor, saw Esk kar’s party approach and waved.
That triggered a massive shout as the villagers and soldiers recognized him. Esk kar decided his venture across the river must have worried Orak’s inhabitants. His return, added to the reports of another victory, gave the crowd something to rejoice about.
It felt strange to be cheered simply because he was seen. He still didn’t know what to do about it.
“Captain, it’s good to see you back in Orak,” Alcinor said with a smile and a bow, “and congratulations. We hear you killed all the barbarians with great ease.”
Esk kar grimaced at the soldiers who couldn’t keep from bragging of their victory. Now everyone would expect an easy defeat of the barbarians. “Greetings, Alcinor.” He kept his voice cold and hard. “And don’t speak of easy conquests. There will be none from the Alur Meriki.”
Alcinor’s smiled vanished at Esk kar’s tone and the young man’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m sorry… I meant no disrespect… I..”
“Enough, Alcinor. I know what you meant. Is everything here as you planned?” Curse the gods, he hadn’t meant to frighten the man out of his wits.
Alcinor tried to recover from his embarrassment. “Umm… yes, of course. We’ve prepared everything as Sisuthros ordered. We have.. ”
“You’ve done well, then,” Esk kar interrupted, trying to undo the effect of his harsh words. “Your gate will be one of the main points of attack, so you must help the soldiers keep the gate secure. If you need anything…”
Sisuthros called to them from atop the left tower. “Captain, there’s movement on the hillside.”
Esk kar and his guards filed quickly into the tower, treading carefully on the dark, narrow steps that followed the walls as they ascended to the top. Bantor came over from the other tower to join them. The soldiers stationed there stepped back so their leaders could see better.
The sight made Esk kar grunt in annoyance. The barbarians surveyed the village and its defenses from the same hilltop where, months before, he’d fi rst considered defending Orak. From there they could see much of the village and the surrounding lands, now flooded, except for the main approach.
“There were only ten or twelve horsemen there until a few moments ago,” Sisuthros informed him. “Now I see standards there.”
Esk kar counted as quickly as he could, using his fingers to keep track, his lips moving slightly. “At least forty now, and with three clan chiefs.”
The extra — long lances that bore the Alur Meriki symbols also carried each clan leader’s emblem. The distance was too great to distinguish details, but the standards stood out clear enough. “Another raiding party has joined with the two war parties from the south,” he commented, then cursed himself for stating the obvious.
“From the main camp,” Gatus asked, “or just another raiding party?”
“Probably the main camp,” Esk kar guessed. “But the Great Chief ’s standard isn’t here, not yet. You’ll recognize that when you see it.”
The third chief and his men probably formed an advance party from the main force, sent ahead to meet with the others and begin planning the attack. It might mean the War Chief had arrived. Or it might mean something else.
“Curse my eyes,” Esk kar swore, “I can’t make out any detail. Can you see anything on the banners, Sisuthros?” He was younger and presumably had better eyes.
“No, nothing,” Sisuthros said. “They’ll move closer soon enough.”
“Where’s Mitrac?” Esk kar asked. “That boy has better eyes than anyone in Orak. Send for him.”
Gatus dispatched a messenger to find the archer. It took some time before Mitrac arrived, carrying his bow and breathing hard.
“Ah, Mitrac.” Esk kar grasped the boy by the shoulders and led him to the tower’s edge. “See those three banners out there? Those are the standards of a war chief. I want you to remember those three banners, because one of them is probably the fighting chief who’ll be responsible for the attack. That’s the one I want you keep looking for. If you get a shot at him, take it, but only if you think you’ve got a good chance to hit him.”
The boy nodded, his hand over his eyes as he stared at the hillside.
Esk kar tried to think about what the enemy might be thinking. Put yourself in the other man’s place. What would I see?… what would I do?
Ignoring the chatter of the men, he set himself to the task. After a moment he turned to his men.
“From where they are, they can’t see the open areas directly behind the wall. They may think the northeast section is the farthest from the center of the village, and that it will be the most difficult for our men to reach in an attack. If I were them, I’d strike at the gate, where we expect them, but push the real thrust at that corner.”
Esk kar looked at his men and waited, but no one offered any argument against it.
He shrugged. “We’ll plan for it. Sisuthros, Bantor, stay here with Mitrac and keep watch. They’ll come closer soon enough and Mitrac should be able to figure out who’s in charge. Gatus, let’s check on the rest of the wall.”
Esk kar descended from the tower and began walking quickly toward the northeast corner. Halfway there, a large group of villagers began to block his way, asking frightened questions that had no answer.
“Gatus, keep this area clear of villagers,” Esk kar ordered loudly. “Send those who don’t have duties here packing.”
He stopped about fifty paces short of the northeast corner and climbed the steps to the parapet. A cheer went up, this time from the soldiers as well as villagers. Damn the gods. He’d have to say something. He turned and faced the crowd beneath him. Fear and doubt showed plainly on every uplifted face.
“Soldiers! Villagers! In a few hours, the barbarians may launch their first attack. They will try to rush the gate, but I think they’ll attack this part of the wall as well. So ready yourselves.” He turned to Gatus. “I think Sisuthros and Bantor can handle the gate. You and I will command here.”
Esk kar looked up and down the parapet. He was about sixty paces from the corner. “This is the spot where they will hurl their attack, here and at the corner. I think everything else will be a ruse. Get the men ready. Make sure the men with the least experience are up front.”
Gatus looked surprised, and he showed no inclination to move.
“I want as many as possible to get experience, Gatus. This first attack should be the easiest to beat off. Keep some veterans in reserve at the base of the wall, ready to come up if needed. I don’t want them to know how good we are yet. I want them to keep thinking they can take the wall, if they just send enough men. Bring Maldar and half of his reserve up here as well.”
That would take men from the rear gate, but Esk kar didn’t think it likely the Alur Meriki would attack there.
Gatus nodded and hurried off, dispatching messengers as he did so.
Esk kar turned to his bodyguards. “You heard the plan. If I fall, you continue it. Now, help me pick the men.”
Everyone began moving and the activity lasted for some time. When Esk kar thought everything was in place, he stopped for a drink of water from one of the water barrels, as Totomes and Narquil, his older son, arrived with Mitrac. Jalen accompanied them and they moved to the wall’s edge to assess the situation.
Esk kar smiled at the three archers. “Good to see you again, Totomes…
Narquil. Did you learn anything at the tower?”
“Yes, another standard has joined the first three,” Totomes answered.
“They’re starting to move toward us.”
Esk kar looked out toward the east. Four Alur Meriki chieftains and about thirty warriors were riding slowly toward the village at an angle. In a few minutes they would be in front of the gate, about half a mile distant, still out of bowshot.
A mutter of excitement raced along the wall. “Keep quiet, men,” he snapped. “Remember, they’ve never seen a wall like this before, and they’re only looking. Keep your heads down and don’t show yourselves.”
The Alur Meriki probably lacked information about the number of people in Orak. Esk kar wanted them to think he had fewer fighting men than were actually available.
Jalen pointed toward the hills to the north. Esk kar saw men and horses, the hilltops dotted with curious warriors. No doubt they disobeyed their own orders to stay below the hill crests.
Meanwhile, the chieftains halted a little past the gate and resumed their discussions. Behind him Esk kar could hear the leaders of each file of ten cursing their men, who kept peeking over the wall. Esk kar didn’t even bother swearing at them. The instant you gave an order, some fool would disobey it. Soldiers never changed.
The Alur Meriki resumed their inspection, riding leisurely until they passed opposite Esk kar’s position on the wall and continuing until they reached the flooded lands. Villagers crowded against each other, despite orders to keep the wall clear. Everyone wanted to see what the barbarians looked like.
Esk kar watched some warriors splash their horses into the newly formed swamp. The animals kicked up spray as they struggled to move through the thick mud covered with at least a foot of water. He smiled when the horses slowed to a crawl. The barbarians tested the wetlands in several places, but always with the same result. Finally they gave up and returned to dry ground, where they sat on their horses, staring down the length of the wall toward the river.
The dry land between the ditch and the flooded basin was only about thirty paces wide, about the same as the width of the ditch. Those two distances, taken together, would give them more than enough room to op-erate. Esk kar knew that they were thinking it shouldn’t be too difficult to surround the village and attack from many points at the same time.
Gatus strolled up to where Esk kar stared at the Alur Meriki. “Well, Captain, what do you think? Should we have flooded the ditch or not?” He said it seriously, without any hint of second — guessing his leader.
“It’s too late, now, Gatus. If I’m wrong, you’ll probably not get a chance to tell me so.” If the enemy came in full strength against many parts of the wall, the village might fall. Esk kar swore again, worried that he had guessed wrong about the first attack.
“Looks like a little disagreement out there,” Gatus commented, shading his eyes. “Maybe they’re already arguing over the spoils.”
One chief did look a little angry, his horse moving restlessly as its master gesticulated, at one point slapping his breast to emphasize some point.
Esk kar wondered what they could be quarrelling about, even before the first attack? Put yourself in their place. His mind went over the possibilities. One situation seemed likely-that the fourth standard belonged to the war chief, and that he wanted to wait before attacking. The more excited warrior probably wanted to attack at once. Esk kar couldn’t be sure, but… if you decide something, be firm about it. Mistakes can be overcome, but never moments of indecision.
“Where’s Mitrac? Mitrac! Come here,” Esk kar shouted. In a moment the young man approached, having followed his captain’s travels along the wall. Esk kar pointed to the chiefs. “You see that chief that’s arguing out there? Can you see who he’s arguing with? That’s the war leader, and he’s the chief you’ll go after when the time is right. Always look for him, but not in the first fight. Don’t try to kill him yet.”
Mitrac studied the distant horsemen. “Yes, Captain, I think you’re right. From the tower, we saw each of the three speak to him in turn. He says little, just seems to listen. It’s the others who talk the most. His horse is that bay, the one with the white spot on the shoulder.”
Esk kar cursed his eyesight again. He couldn’t distinguish any mark-ings on the horse, but the chief appeared to be wearing something white around his neck. “Good, good. Now, you see the one doing all the arguing?
I don’t want him killed either.”
Mitrac turned to stare into Esk kar’s eyes. “But, why… I mean
… why not shoot at either of them?”
“Because the loud one is probably the war chief who’ll lead the first attack, and he wants all the glory for taking the village by himself. I think the other chief is the one in charge. He’s probably the smartest one they have, while the other is the most reckless and ambitious. For the first attack we want the reckless one in charge, not dead by some lucky arrow fired at long range. After the attack fails, then you can kill him. And after today, you try and kill the other man every chance you get. Understand?”
“Why, yes… yes, I understand. I think I understand.” Mitrac eyes had gone wide in awe of Esk kar’s reasoning. “I’ll go tell my father,” he added, anticipating Esk kar’s next command.
“Good, and make sure he understands why. Off you go.”
When the boy trotted off, Gatus came over, shaking his head but smiling at the same time.
“Well, old man, what are you laughing at?”
“By sundown the story will be all over Orak. How Esk kar picked out the war chiefs and figured out their plans.” He smiled again and lowered his voice. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d almost believe you know what you’re doing.”
“If I knew what I was doing, I wouldn’t be standing here with you behind this puny wall. But it’s better to be lucky than smart, so let’s hope our luck holds out.”
Voices rippled along the wall and Esk kar turned back to watch the riders. They’d started to move, not returning the way they came, but moving toward the north. He watched them ride, graceful on their wiry horses, so much at home as they rode across the burnt — out stubble of what had been, until a few days ago, a grassy plain. He glanced up at the sun and saw noon approached. They’d watched the horsemen for almost two hours.
“Gatus, do whatever else you need to strengthen this corner of the wall. Make sure that the whole length from here down to the river is ready.
No matter what that eager war chief decides, there will be some attacks down this side.”
“We’ll be ready. Now you go and talk to Trella. She’s waiting down there for you.”
Esk kar looked down into the village. He picked her out at once, surrounded by half a dozen women and her two bodyguards. Esk kar recognized the burly Klexor standing behind her.
Walking along the wall until he could descend, Esk kar strode across the open space toward the house that shaded Trella and her party. He greeted everyone as they moved aside.
“Good morning, husband. I’ve some food and water for you.” Trella carried a small basket under her arm.
She looked serene and confident, not a trace of last night’s frightened girl. She wore her poorest shift, the one she had on that fi rst night. Today she carried the dagger Esk kar had taken from Drigo’s dead hand. He felt glad that she’d been trained in its use.
They sat on the ground, their backs against the wall, while the others moved away to give them some privacy. “You seem much better today, wife. Did you sleep well?” Esk kar ignored the smiles that appeared on some of the nearby faces. He wondered whether they knew everything that went on in his bedchamber, including how often and how well he made love to his woman.
“Yes, I slept very well. Now eat and drink. You may not get a chance later.” She handed him a piece of bread. “Will they attack today?”
“In a few hours. They’re waiting for the great chief and more men, just in case the first attack is successful.” He told her what he’d seen from the wall and his thoughts on what the barbarians would do.
“You know how they think, Esk kar. More important, the rest of the villagers feel secure when you act confidently.” She put the basket between them. “Finish your food while you can.”
Her agreement made him feel surer of himself and he took pleasure in that. He fell to work on the slices of bread and chicken, the meat still warm. Though he’d eaten breakfast only a few hours ago, he found himself hungry again, and the heat of the day had already given him a thirst.
Esk kar almost drained the water skin before he remembered to offer her some.
She finished the water. “Give the rest of the chicken to Gatus. I must return to my duties. The old men grow nervous and quarrelsome if I’m not there to reassure them.”
“Be careful,” he warned her. “Don’t stand where a stray arrow can fi nd you. And don’t…”
She stood and smiled at him. “Yes, master, I will obey, and you don’t need to repeat yourself a dozen times.” He must have looked crestfallen, for she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good fortune to you today, husband.” And she walked off, her followers trailing behind, some of the women looking back at him and giggling.
He hadn’t adjusted yet to that new experience, the constant stares and giggles from the women, who acted as if they knew all the intimate details of his personal life. Before Trella, no woman had dared to laugh at him. Barbarian customs had much to recommend them, he decided once again.
He walked back to the wall, carrying the basket. He found Gatus underneath the parapet, swearing at two of his men for some infraction.
“Trella sends you some chicken for lunch, so I suppose you’ll have to eat it.” He pushed the basket into his hands. “Get some rest.” When the man started to protest, Esk kar held up his hand. “You won’t have time later.” He turned to one of the ever — present Hawk Clan bodyguard. “Bring water for Gatus, and make sure you men get something to eat and drink as well.”
Esk kar spent the next hour pacing the wall, making sure everyone stayed alert and that the archers knew their roles, places, and orders. He had to be careful where he stepped-the top of the parapet creaked under the weight of stones piled upon it. Any more and there would be no room for his archers.
Satisfied with the preparations, he reviewed the signals that would allow him and his men to communicate through the chaos of battle. He even found time to talk with some of the villagers, those who stood ready to use short spears, axes, and forked sticks.
Three hours past midday shouts went up from those manning the wall.
Esk kar ran lightly up the steps to the position he had selected to defend, about fifty paces from the northeast corner. He looked to his left and saw Gatus standing at the corner. Esk kar had to push men aside to get to the wall, but one look told him the attack had begun.
The hills were covered with mounted men, riding slowly toward Orak, most of them still more than two miles away. Their numbers seemed endless, and he felt the doubt rise up inside him.
“Mitrac,” he shouted, and this time the young man reached his side in a moment. “Get a count of their warriors.” Some of the barbarians carried ladders or climbing poles, sticks with crosspieces tied or nailed to the upright. They didn’t seem to have very many of those, he noted.
While Mitrac counted, Esk kar scanned the riders, looking for standards as the men walked their horses slowly toward the village. Three… four… five… six… seven. That’s all he could see, and nowhere in sight was the giant standard of the sarrum. Riders continued to come over the crest of the distant hills, but fewer now, though he did see one new standard. They rode slowly or walked their horses, coming toward the village, mostly silent, strong men on fine horses, ready to do battle, all of them eager for glory and loot.
Gatus walked over to his side, as Jalen came up the steps behind him.
“By all the demons, is there any end to them?” Jalen asked. “Ishtar, they’re still coming!”
“I think we’ll see about two — thirds of them today,” Esk kar said. “They’ll wait for the clan chief before they attack, so he can witness their bravery.” The leading riders had stopped now, waiting, as their leaders held up lances or bows horizontally to mark out a rough line less than half a mile from the wall.
“How long before the big chief shows up?” Gatus inquired. “He won’t keep them waiting long, will he?”
“Less than an hour,” Esk kar answered, staring at the warriors. “Enough time for us to become weak with fear.”
“Then he can come right now, as far as I’m concerned,” Gatus said.
“Maybe we should have stayed across the river.”
Jalen looked shocked, but Esk kar laughed. “You should’ve thought of that yesterday.” He turned back to Mitrac. “Well, how many, lad?”
The boy’s lips moved wordlessly as he checked his fingers. “Captain, I count about eleven hundred, maybe a few more.”
Esk kar had done his calculation the easy way, figuring a hundred men to each standard, with extra men for the chief who would lead the first attack.
The answer made him feel a little better. If the first attack were a full assault, with every warrior participating, there’d be even more men facing him.
War cries rose up from the barbarians, shouts that quickly swelled into a thunderous roar that went on and on, as the warriors lifted their swords and lances and shook them against the sky.
Over the crest of the hill appeared the grand standard of the Alur Meriki clan chief. The tall banner, carried by a giant of a man on a massive horse, swayed in the breeze. The cross — shaped emblem, draped with many ox- tails and streamers, signified all the battles won and clans absorbed into the tribe. The leader rode in front of the standard bearer, undistinguished by any trappings visible at this distance, looking quite ordinary. He carried neither lance nor bow.
Around him raced twenty or thirty warriors, galloping their horses back and forth while raising war cries. Another thirty or forty rode more sedately behind him.
Everyone, villager and barbarian alike, followed his progress and Eskkar could see the great chief turn his head from side to side as he surveyed the burnt grasses and empty landscape.
“By the gods, I’ve never seen so many horses.” Gatus shook his head.
“How many do they have?”
“More than you see, Gatus. Every warrior has at least two mounts.
Many will have four or five. When a warrior dies, his horses are given to the rest of his clan.”
“Let’s hope there are many horses to divide up tonight,” Gatus responded.
Esk kar put thoughts of horses out of his head and turned to Jalen.
“Tell the men to get ready, then go to your position. I think they’ll be coming soon.” Jalen would defend the section between Esk kar and the gate.
Jalen nodded, then clasped Esk kar’s arm in salute. “Good fortune to all of us, Captain.”
“Well, he said he wanted to fight barbarians,” Gatus commented as Jalen raced off. The old soldier placed his leather cap on his head and fastened the strap. “And I’ve brought this for you. Make sure you wear it.” He handed Esk kar a copper helmet, the metal glinting in the bright sunlight.
“Trella had it made for you. For some reason, she doesn’t want your head taken off.”
Esk kar looked at the helmet as he hefted it in his hand. It weighed much less than the bronze one he refused to wear, complaining that it was too hot and heavy. He hated having anything on his head. This helmet had a simpler design, hardly more than a cap. It came down low across the forehead yet covered the back almost to the base of the neck, with two short strips of copper extending down to cover the temples. Inside, a thin layer of leather acted as a lining.
He tried it on. It fit almost perfectly, only a little too tight over his temples. Pulling it off, he bent the soft metal flanges slightly, then replaced it on his head.
“Trella said to give it to you right before the battle, so that you wouldn’t have any excuse to lose it.” Gatus turned to the bodyguards. “If he takes it off, carry him off the wall, no matter what he says. Understand?” They muttered their agreement, and Gatus turned back to Esk kar. “Wear it for her sake, Esk kar. You’ll need it with all these arrows flying around. Good luck to you.”
One of the bodyguards helped Esk kar with the straps as he fastened the helmet under his chin. Copper wasn’t as good as bronze at stopping a sword stroke, but it would probably turn aside a barbarian arrow, even at close range. Moving his head tentatively from side to side, he tested the helmet’s feel. It rested lightly enough on his head, so he had no cause to complain. He turned back to the wall.
The leader of all the Alur Meriki had nearly reached the front of his men, riding up a slight incline that permitted a better view. The other chiefs already waited there. Esk kar watch them exchange greetings before they began to speak. The discussion went on for a long time. Everyone appeared calm, no angry words or gestures that he could see, as the chiefs presented their plans for battle.
The talk ended abruptly. The war chief rode back to his men on the front lines, while two other chiefs returned to their own clans. Probably three hundred in the attack, with an equal number ready to join in if the attack succeeded or looked close to success. The other chiefs remained with their sarrum, to watch the battle with him and point out any mistakes made by their counterparts.
“Those chiefs seem pretty calm,” Gatus said. “Is that good?”
“I think so. If the attack chief hadn’t gotten approval, he would have argued with the clan chief, so we’ll have our attack. Which is good, because they don’t have enough ladders to climb the wall. They’re expecting us to collapse in fear and abandon the wall and gate.”
Esk kar watched as the Alur Meriki gathered themselves, every tenth man raising lance or bow to show his readiness.
“Then I’d better get moving.” Gatus left, walking slowly to his own position, as unconcerned as if this were just another training exercise.
Esk kar took a deep breath and raised his voice. “Archers! Don’t fire until they cross the second mark. Not the fi rst! The second. I’ll flog any man who launches an arrow before I give the word.” His voice carried down the wall, and he heard his words repeated by others even farther down by the gate and beyond.
“Are you ready, men?” This time his voice thundered and a roar of approval went up. Everyone had grown tired of waiting, and even those who felt fearful were past that now, just wanting to get it over with.
On the plain the barbarian chief in charge of the attack rode slowly down the line of warriors, speaking to men as he moved, his standard bearer and guards following him. He reached the end, then rode back toward the center. He stopped almost directly opposite Esk kar’s position.
The fool had pinpointed the focus of the attack. They’d start any moment now. Esk kar swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.
“Remember, the second mark,” he shouted again, and this time he heard laughter from his men at his need to repeat his order.
The first marker indicated the maximum range of their arrows. Eskkar wanted the barbarians to reach the second marker, one hundred paces closer, before they began firing. The third marker stood one hundred and twenty paces from the wall, and the bows would need almost no arc at that range.
The time for orders and questions had passed and every soldier on the wall kept silent, while the war cries and challenges from the warriors mixed with the neighing of the excited horses. Esk kar saw the war chief ’s standard rise up as its bearer raised it aloft. Then it dipped and the line of men and horses burst into a gallop, the riders’ shouts suddenly muted by the thudding hooves.
Totomes, in charge of the bowmen, took command. His orders echoed along the wall. “Draw your bows…” the same words and cadence used in a thousand practice sessions.
“Aim…” the riders were past the first mark. No one had loosed an arrow that Esk kar could see. Hours of relentless practice ruled out any time for thoughts or worries.
“Fly!” and two hundred and fifty arrows were launched at the rapidly approaching horsemen. “Draw… aim… fly.” The chant repeated, again and again.
Esk kar watched the oncoming riders, saw some go down as the first flight arrived, but not as many as he had expected. The next flight did better. The third flight looked a bit ragged, as the more proficient men worked their bows a little quicker, but it was fired with the bows almost level and its effect was devastating. Horses and men went down all along the line, though the Alur Meriki ranks had opened up somewhat.
The fourth wave of arrows struck fifty paces before the riders reached the ditch. Now arrows flew both ways. Esk kar saw an archer go down, struck in the forehead, even as he heard something hiss over his own head. But most of the Alur Meriki’s shafts struck the wall, making a dull snapping sound as they struck the hard surface. The barbarians had only a small target to aim at, the upper bodies of the men on the wall, and they had to find that target while aiming and loosing their shafts from horseback at a dead run.
Then the enemy reached the ditch. Some riders showed their skill by jumping their horses off the ten — foot drop. Most of the horses, however, balked at the descent, stiffening their legs as they stopped at the very edge in a spray of sand and dirt.
Esk kar saw three riders tossed forward, one going headfirst into the ditch, the others clinging to their horses’ necks. Arrows rained down on the warriors, as every soldier worked his bow as fast as he could. They didn’t need a cadence now.
The Alur Meriki plied their own bows, some from horseback, others dismounted by force or choice, kneeling on the ground and loosing their shafts at the defenders. At least a hundred warriors jumped from their horses, leaped into the ditch, and raced to the wall.
Esk kar heard the thud of the first ladder as it slammed against the wall, saw the tip of it a few steps from where he stood and walked over to it, drawing his sword as he did so. He had already started to swing the blade with all his strength when a head appeared. The heavy weapon cut through the man’s arm and into his head with ease. Twisting the blade loose, Esk kar dug the tip into the wooden ladder and pushed with all his strength, sending the ladder as well as the next warrior sailing backward into the ditch.
Looking out over the plain Esk kar saw another Alur Meriki standard on the move toward him, the men moving quickly to support the first wave.
Totomes’s voice rose up over the din, taking control again. The archers stepped back from the wall and notched their shafts to the string. “Draw… aim… fly!” The chant began again, as the bowmen’s shafts sought out those across the ditch. Volley followed volley and the Alur Meriki reinforcements erupted into a confused tangle of men and horses crowding against one another. The Alur Meriki bowmen got caught by the confusion, and for a moment, few arrows flew toward the wall.
Villagers did their work, using the forked sticks to push away the ladders and swinging axes at any head that appeared. Totomes’s commands kept sounding. Flight followed flight, fi red together and on command, the shafts sent into the crowded mass of men and horses, with practically every arrow hitting something, man or beast.
The men began to cheer. Esk kar saw the barbarian bowmen were finished, broken by that deadly fire, their reinforcements driven back in confusion. His archers kept up the pace as the Alur Meriki wheeled their horses and rode back to safety. Arrows whistled overhead, but fewer now, as the barbarians continued their retreat, leaving those in the ditch the difficult task of climbing back out.
None had made it over the wall. Those mounted barbarians in the ditch found it much more difficult to get a horse to climb up a ten — foot embankment than to jump into it, and all who tried soon had arrows in their backs.
Those on foot found themselves trapped. They were targeted and shot, as archers returned to the wall’s edge and risked exposure by leaning over, selecting a target and loosing their arrows.
In less than a minute, all movement in the ditch had stopped, except for the riderless horses that trotted back and forth, eyes wide and whinny-ing in fear, searching for a way out of the ditch and away from the scent of blood.
“Captain, should I take a shot at the chief? He’s still within range.”
He turned to find Mitrac at his side. Esk kar eyes followed where the boy was pointing. The two chiefs who had been involved in the attack were talking, no, shouting at each other, no doubt each accusing the other of some failing. Esk kar’s eyes hunted for the marker stones and he saw that the two chiefs had halted between the first and second marker. Arrows kept landing near them, and they would move out of range in a moment.
“Yes, take the shot.” Before he’d finished speaking, the lad’s feet were braced and he drew back the shaft, taking one last check of the wind. A fraction of a second to aim and then the great bow twanged. Mitrac immediately drew another shaft, aimed it and let it fly. A third was in the air before the first one landed.
The chief who’d led the attack pitched forward as the long shaft slammed into his back. Three seconds later, the next arrow arrived, aimed at the other chief, but the man’s horse moved and the arrow took the beast in the neck. Mitrac’s next three arrows missed, as the wounded beast reared and lashed out in pain, tossing its rider onto the earth.
Esk kar swore at the bad luck that caused the horse to move. He saw the dismounted chief, stunned for a moment, scrambling to his feet, then falling back, an arrow in his leg. Mitrac kept shooting, but by this time warriors had surrounded the two chiefs and carried them off, though Mitrac did get one more rider before the warriors galloped out of range.
“Fine shooting!” Esk kar shouted, clapping the grinning lad on his shoulder. Esk kar turned back to the wall, leaning over the edge to see what had happened below, then turned his eyes south toward the gate. The barbarians there had already retreated, the hundred or so warriors far too few to force the gate. Esk kar and Gatus had faced more than three hundred men, plus part of another group, and they had still routed their foes.
Every voice on the wall erupted into cheers, shouting and waving fi sts or bows at the retreating barbarians. Gatus appeared, walking carefully along the wall, alertly dodging the excited soldiers, not wanting to get knocked off the back of the parapet. It had happened often enough in training.
“Well, Gatus, you survived another fight.”
Gatus smiled. “Yes, Captain. And you can put away your sword. Better clean it first, though. How did it strike?”
Esk kar still held his bloodied sword in his hand. “Smoothly. Any problems at your end?”
“None to speak of. Most of the attack was here. Shall we go check at the gate?”
That was good advice. But first Esk kar raised his voice. “Silence!” It took three times before the men realized who’d given the order and the celebrations died down.
“You men did well.” That brought another cheer and this time Esk kar raised his hand for quiet. “But this was only a little test, just a push to see what we’re made of. The next attack will be worse, much worse, so stop all this noise and get to work. Where are the ditch men?”
Everyone looked around, but no one answered. “Get them moving. You know what to do.”
The ditch men, mostly young men and older boys, would climb down ropes into the ditch, to recover arrows and weapons, and loot the dead. In a few moments thirty men and boys began sliding into the ditch, armed only with long knives to fi nish off the wounded. Each carried an empty quiver or sack to recover anything usable.
Each shaft was precious. Most arrows would be broken, damaged beyond use, or simply lost. As every person who’d ever drawn a bow knew, nothing could disappear right before your eyes as completely as an arrow falling to earth. You could mark its fall and yet the shaft would burrow itself under the grass or earth, never to be found. But every arrow point was forged of precious bronze and mustn’t be wasted.
Esk kar and Gatus strode quickly to the gate, where they found a smiling Bantor and Sisuthros waiting for them. Sisuthros had a small cut on his cheek that still trailed blood.
“It’s only a scratch, Captain. But we held them off here easily enough.
Most of the attack was at your end.”
“You both did well, Bantor… Sisuthros. How many did you kill? How many did you lose?”
The two men exchanged glances before Bantor said sheepishly,
“Uhm… I don’t know, Captain. We haven’t counted them yet.”
Esk kar’s orders had been plain enough. Immediately after the attack, send the ditch men out to retrieve weapons and count the enemy dead.
“Get to it, then,” he said quietly, managing to get more emphasis in his tone than his words. “Use the shaduf to get the dead horses inside. We can use the fresh meat.”
The shaduf was a long pole mounted to a beam buried in the earth, used to lift heavy objects or water from the river. One end of the pole was weighted with stones, so that the laborers could add their weight to the stones and use the pole as a lever to raise heavy objects. Builders used the shaduf when building houses, as did traders at the wharf to lift heavy cargoes onto or off the ships.
He turned to Gatus. “Let’s climb the tower and see what’s happening.”
The tower had become the tallest structure in Orak. From its top Eskkar could clearly see the Alur Meriki leaders about three — quarters of a mile away, talking things over. They’d dismounted, as they argued their cases. “I’ll bet some of them are for trying again.”
“They’d better change their tactics, then,” Gatus answered.
“Let’s hope they don’t.” Esk kar shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked out over the plain. The Alur Meriki had attacked Orak as though the wall wasn’t there, using their usual tactics of launching a hailstorm of arrows followed up by lance and sword. They must have expected the villagers to break and run. But the wall deflected their arrows, and the defenders had stood the first test of fire. Meanwhile the barbarians had no cover at all.
“They have no more ladders,” his second in command offered. “They’d be fools to try without more ladders.”
Esk kar leaned out over the tower wall, where men had already begun the gathering. “You men down there! First pick up all the ladders and climbing poles, and throw them up over the wall. Pass the word!” He turned to Gatus. “You’re right. They never had enough ladders and now they’ll have to make more, many more. So we’re probably through for the day, maybe tomorrow as well.”
“There isn’t much wood in the countryside, either,” Gatus noted.
“They’ll have to ride quite a few miles to gather new supplies.”
Every stick of wood the barbarians could use had been taken down.
No houses, no carts, no corrals, nothing. Even the barbarians’ horses would need to travel for fodder. The Alur Meriki knew how to live off the land, but the countryside around Orak was going to give them very little.
“Well, Gatus, when they come again, they’ll have plenty of ladders, ropes, ramps, and anything else they can think of.”
Gatus scratched his chin, rasping his beard in the process. “They’ll not try to match arrows with us from horseback, either.”
“No, they won’t try that again,” Esk kar agreed. “They’ll look for an easy way and they’ll wait a few days, expecting the war party to arrive from across the river. If I were them, I would try to burn the gate next time-really go at it with fire and axes.”
“Or maybe they’ll try at night.”
It was the old soldier’s primary worry, though Esk kar didn’t think it very likely. Night fighting didn’t stand high on the list of warrior skills.
You couldn’t use your bow very well, the horses would have to be left behind, and even more important, no one could see your bravery, which meant quite a bit to their way of thinking.
“That’s why you’re in charge at night,” Esk kar said cheerfully, “because I know you’ll keep the men alert and watchful. But I think they’ll try the gate first. They know how to use fire, so I expect we’ll see plenty of fire arrows next time they come.”
Shouts made them look north, where a small party of Alur Meriki had ridden back, angered by the sight of village men scampering around their dead. But a few flights of arrows from the nearest defenders drove them off, leaving another body lying on the blackened grass.
Esk kar and Gatus left the tower and descended to the ground, where they found Bantor coming to meet them.
“Captain, there are sixty — nine bodies that we can see, plus at least that many horses. We had eight killed and seventeen wounded, but only two badly hurt.”
The barbarians probably had another fifty or sixty wounded men, a third of whom could be expected to die, as well as many injured horses.
So it had been a good exchange, eight for more than seventy. As for the wounded soldiers, if you took an arrow in the face or neck, you were either dead or dying. Wounds to the arms would be much less dangerous and the leather vests and caps worn by the men might stop an arrow, except one striking head — on or at close range. But now wasn’t the time for the men to be patting themselves on the back.
“Only seventy barbarians! Gatus! Did you see how many arrows missed in the first few flights? Hardly any warriors were brought down at all. Tell the men that they’d better start aiming better, or I’ll toss them over the wall.”
Bantor and Gatus looked at each other but said nothing.
“We just killed off their weakest and most foolish warriors,” Esk kar explained, raising his voice so that as many as possible could hear his words. “The next lot will be tougher and stronger and will know what to expect. So tell the men to stop bragging and get ready. And Gatus, as soon as the ditch men are back inside the walls, tell Corio to start pump-ing. Make sure the wells and water wheels are fully manned until the ditch is turned into mud.”
Corio estimated that it would take at least two days to soften the earth properly in the entire ditch, longer for the area in front of the gate where the trench was twice its normal width.
“I want that ditch turned into a swamp by tomorrow.” That would give the men something to do besides cheer and pound their own chests, Eskkar decided. He walked off, well satisfied with the day’s results in spite of his harsh words to his men.
Two hours later Esk kar met with his commanders at the courtyard table. The late afternoon shadows had lengthened, providing a little relief to the partly shaded table.
“The wells are being worked to bring water up for the ditch, as are the water wheels,” Gatus reported when they were all seated. “We’ve brought in thirteen dead horses and they’re roasting on fires made from barbarian ladders.” He laughed at the irony.
“Let’s hope we have more wood and meat after the next attack,” Eskkar said with a smile. “We’ll have plenty of fire next time. They’ll bring branches and grasses soaked in oil. They’ll charge the walls at the same time and every section will be under attack. Many of them will be dismounted to provide cover for those who rush the walls and gate. And this time they’ll send all of their warriors, not just a part of them.”
He turned to Corio. “Now is your time, Master Builder. They’ll heap firewood at the gate, try to burn it, or pull it down, while they try to shoot our men off the walls and towers.”
Corio shifted uneasily on the bench. “The gate will stand, Captain, and it will not burn easily. If the men stand at the walls, the gate will hold.”
Eyes turned toward Sisuthros, then to Bantor. The two men had worked closely in the last two months, building and guarding the walls and gate, training their men. “Captain, we’ll hold the gate,” Bantor said. “Many will die, but we can hold it.”
Esk kar considered that for a moment. “We’ll add half of the Hawk Clan to the towers and the gate, except for a few to scatter along the rest of the wall. Keep the experienced men in reserve for reinforcements.” He turned toward Nicar. “We’ll need the best villagers as well. And we’ll need water, stones, weapons, arrows, and the men to help repel any who scale the wall.”
“This is what we’ve trained for, Captain,” Nicar answered calmly. “We understand the risks.”
Looking around the table, there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
Months of preparation resolved many decisions. “Now, what else do we need to talk about?”
Darkness had fallen hours ago before a weary Esk kar decided to get some sleep. He’d taken one last turn around the walls, making sure the men were fed. Food would be in short supply for the next few months and had to be carefully guarded and rationed. Now he slipped past the soldiers and villagers who continued to labor under torchlight in the courtyard.
Stopping by the well, he washed the dirt of the day from his face and chest.
From today until the barbarians departed, the walls would be heavily manned day and night, with extra vigilance after dark. Fires would burn each night, with torches nearby ready to be raised over the walls, while men with bows in their hands watched ceaselessly. Gatus would sleep little this night, as he planned to inspect the men throughout the darkness. Ten lashes awaited any man found not fully awake.
Upstairs he found Trella waiting, sitting at the big table in the outer room. When she looked up, she seemed different. It took him a moment to realize that she looked tired, almost exhausted, a look he hadn’t seen on her before. A wan smile crossed her face as she saw him. He went over to her and bent down to give her a kiss. “Have you eaten?”
“No, not since this morning. I was going to, but then the attack started and everyone was rushing around.” She looked up at him. “I saw you on the wall, and suddenly I was afraid that you would die.”
He sat beside her. Annok — sur called out from the door, though it stood open, then entered without waiting for acknowledgment. She carried a tray holding strips of roasted horsemeat, bread, and warm oil. She put the tray on the big table, then went to the smaller side table and filled two cups with wine.
“You should be tending to your husband, Annok — sur,” Esk kar commented as he gratefully took one of the cups from her hand. The smell of the roasted meat reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since before the attack.
“I already have,” Annok — sur answered. “He returned an hour ago and is already asleep.” She looked at him sternly. “You should be more concerned with your wife. She worked twice as hard today as anyone. Make sure she eats and drinks some wine. She’ll need her strength.” Her hand rested on Trella’s shoulder for a moment before she left the room.
Trella smiled again, a little brighter this time. “Annok — sur is like the older sister I never had. She worries about me all the time. But I’ll eat a little.”
“No, you’ll eat your share and drink some wine as well,” Esk kar said as he reached for a strip of meat. “As I will, before Annok — sur returns and takes a stick to us both.” They ate in silence. Esk kar finished his portion and took a deep draft of the wine. Sitting back in the chair, he watched Trella until she finished. “Now, what’s troubling you?”
Trella drank more of her wine, though she usually limited herself to only a few sips. “When the attack started, I was watching from the roofs across the street. I saw you standing there, saw arrows flying past your head. So many flew over the wall.” She looked away. “I thought I might see you die, right before my eyes. If not today, then tomorrow, or the day after.” Her eyes met his. “What would happen to me if you die, Esk kar.
What would become of me?”
The question took him by surprise. “If the village falls, Trella..”
“No, that’s not what I mean. What happens to me if you die and the barbarians are driven off?”
His mouth opened in dismay. So now this frightened her. Not the thought that she might die, but that she might live. He hadn’t bothered to think about the consequences of his death. He’d risked his life too many times to be much concerned about it. In battle you either lived or died, and those who spent too much time worrying about their fate often ended up dead.
If the village fell Trella would become a slave in some barbarian’s tent, beaten at will, traded regularly among the male warriors who enjoyed new slaves, the property of anyone her new master might offer her to, and abused by her master’s regular wives and children. Many women killed themselves rather than endure such a hard, brutal existence.
Tonight that fate didn’t hold her thoughts. She would probably be one of those who killed themselves rather than endure captivity. For Trella, no torture could be worse than not being able to think, to use her mind, and to have no control over her fate.
He raised the wine cup and drained it. The wine jug tempted him, but he refilled his cup with water instead, using the time to think.
Trella waited patiently, as she always did, never prodding or rushing him, knowing that he needed more time to work things out than she did.
“If I die, you have the house and the gold. Gatus and Bantor would protect you, until…” His voice ran down. The soldiers could be killed as easily as he, and they had their own wives to consider. Trella had no relatives to turn to. With some property would come the pressure to remarry, and the Families might select a new husband for her, their duty for any widow with no family.
“A new husband would be found for you, or you might be able to select one for yourself, since so many know you and respect you. You’re young and there are many sons from the Families…”
“So I would be sold once again,” she answered harshly, “this time for my gold and my reputation, to be put on display until my new husband gets tired of me or grows angry with my words.”
Esk kar tried to think about what he could say, suddenly wanting more wine and wishing that she’d brought this up some other time. “I can’t say what the future brings. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, when we’re both rested.”
She said nothing, just sat there, eyes downcast. When the silence dragged on, he stood and went into the bedroom. He stripped off his tunic and threw himself down on the bed, longing for sleep, but his mind thinking about Trella. What made it worse was knowing that she couldn’t find any good solution to her problem. Otherwise she would have suggested it already.
He tried to think but his body, weary as only those who have fought in a battle could be, betrayed him and he fell into a deep sleep. Nor did he awaken when Trella, after a long wait, put out the lamps and slipped under the blanket with him, put her arm across his shoulder and silently cried herself to sleep.