Ten days slipped by. Each morning as dawn broke, the men on the wall searched the plain before them, saw nothing, and breathed a sigh of relief. Today would not be the day. Bands of warriors occasionally rode about, but little could be seen, with most of the encampment behind the hills. The less activity they showed, the more Eskkar worried.
Almost every night brought some new threat. For the barbarians, the night gave them an easy opportunity to keep the villagers off guard. Using the cover of darkness, men would slip up to the wall, fire a few arrows at the sentries, then disappear. Sentries covered themselves with leather, but men still fell dead or wounded. By the time soldiers hoisted torches over the wall, the attackers were gone, and seldom did the soldiers have a target. Besides the cost in men, the antics kept everyone on edge and losing sleep.
Tonight Esk kar had little to say to Trella. He’d held her until she fell asleep, then rolled onto his back, wide awake, thinking about the besiegers.
If he had enough men at their rear, even a hundred would do, he could attack the enemy and disrupt the camp, burn their wagons, scatter the horses. But he was not in their rear, he was trapped inside Orak with no way to get out.
Meanwhile, the barbarians continued with their preparations. The thought made him uneasy, so he got out of bed, pulling a tunic over his body and slipping out of the bedroom. Moving silently, he descended to the main floor, then out into the courtyard. A torch burned there at all times and the guards walked by, alert even at the end of a long day.
Esk kar nodded at those manning the command table, but walked toward the rear of the house. He sat on the bench, facing the trees where Natram — zar had been tortured. Already that time seemed long in the past, a mere trifle hardly worth considering.
One pleasant memory remained, however. A few feet from the base of the tree, where it came closest to the wall, Caldor’s head had been buried deep in the earth. Both young Drigo and Caldor had insulted Trella, and both were dead, a fact all in Orak knew well. Caldor had even put his hands on Trella’s body, but that would never happen again. No man would ever touch her and live.
Esk kar returned his thoughts to the Alur Meriki. He stared into the darkness, wondering what they would do next. He needed a spy, he decided, someone who knew their councils. If only he had a way to visit their camp, spend a day or two there, observing and listening. But no one could get out of Orak. The attackers had sealed up the village too well.
A shadow moved on the ground. He looked up and found Trella in front of him, a cloak wrapped around her body, though the night air held little chill.
“I thought you found it pleasant in our bed,” she said quietly. “Or do you plan to sleep in the garden?” She sat down and leaned against him.
Esk kar put his arm around her and inhaled the scent of her hair. “I couldn’t sleep. I started thinking about the barbarians, wondering what they’re planning, where they’ll attack next.”
“You always seem to know what they think. Are their plans a mystery now?”
“Yes. They’ve many clan leaders, and right now they’re all thinking about the same thing. They wonder about the best way to crack the nut Orak has become. How can they get past the ditch and the wall, or through the gate, so they can kill all of us? And now they have a new problem how to do it without losing too many more warriors. So they prepare themselves and when they’re ready, they’ll attack.”
He sighed. “Perhaps the gods will smile on us.”
“The gods have already smiled on us. Nobody can doubt that, not even the priests. Why do you think they’ve been so quiet these last few months?
They know you’re touched by the gods.”
The thought of the priests always brought a frown to his face. In the past the quarreling priests and their demanding gods had caused trouble enough in Orak, though the danger from the Alur Meriki had quieted them down. The less he had to do with them the better.
She rested her head on his shoulder, the cloak coming loose. She wore nothing beneath it.
He slipped his hand inside the garment and felt the heat from her body.
Her breast felt soft and heavy in his hand. Esk kar settled back, letting himself enjoy a moment of pleasure.
She relaxed under his touch, closing her eyes, then lifting her face to his. “It’s time for bed, and this time I’ll make sure you go to sleep.”
He smiled, then pulled the cloak off her shoulders, so he could gaze at her body in the faint light from the stars and the torches. The longer he looked at her, the stronger the urge became to take her right there in the garden. The guards would hear the noise and come to investigate, not that he cared about what they saw or thought.
“Then we should return to our chamber, wife.” He pulled the cloak back around her and took her hand, then walked her back into the house, nodding at the guards whose smiles were tinged with envy at their fortunate commander.
Wide awake now, they returned to their bed. Esk kar forgot his worries and made love to his wife, a task that took considerable time as each seemed to hunger for the other. Trella seemed on fire, her own urges demanding satisfaction. Even after the passion overcame her, it only whetted her appetite for him, and it was a long time before they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, sweat — soaked, the bedding a mess of twisted blankets.
Neither of them knew or cared that the shaking and half — muffled cries had awakened half the household and brought smiles to the guards who paced the courtyard below. When they’d finished, Esk kar held her close, before he fell into a deep sleep.
The alarm drum roused him instantly, the rapid beating telling him an attack was in progress, even before the soldiers’ shouts penetrated his consciousness. Esk kar jumped to his feet, pulling on his undergarment and grabbing his sword before Trella was fully awake. He raced barefoot down the stairs, following the reserve soldiers as they ran down the street to the north wall.
As he ran his fear increased, since they headed toward the site that he had deemed most suitable for a night attack. Esk kar heard the clash of swords, but by the time he reached the wall the fighting had ended.
“Down, Captain!” someone shouted, even as an arrow hissed by his head. Cursing under his breath and bent double, Esk kar scuttled swiftly along the wall until he found Jalen. His subcommander had everything under control. Villagers shoved torches attached to poles out over the ditch, giving the crouched archers some targets. As usual, the nighttime attack initially favored the enemy, who could put their archers in place in the darkness while the defenders would be outlined against the wall and lighted from behind. Barbarian arrows had killed at least two men, as Eskkar saw by the bodies lying below the parapet.
But by this time the parapet held at least forty archers, and volleys of arrows flew into the darkness. Gradually the shafts from the attackers came less frequently. More torches added their light but little now remained to be seen.
Jalen finally had time to report. “A guard heard them splashing in the ditch and gave the alarm. Their arrows drove us down and they tried to climb the wall. Stones soon put a stop to that, and three who reached the top were killed.” He looked around for a moment. “This was a real assault, not just a raid. I saw at least a hundred men out there. Did they attack anywhere else?”
“I don’t know. Gatus was at the command table, and I heard only one alarm. Can you hold here?”
“Yes, we’ve plenty of stones, and the men are wide awake now.”
“I’ll go check with Gatus.” Esk kar gripped his subcommander’s shoulder for a moment, then swung down from the parapet. He dropped lightly to the ground below and raced back to the command house, now lit more brightly than when he had left it. He found Gatus speaking to several soldiers, all looking tense but displaying no signs of panic.
Gatus answered his question before he could even ask it. “No other attacks, Captain. Only on the north wall. Does Jalen have everything he needs?”
So the reports had come in smoothly to the command table. Esk kar could have stayed here and learned just as much without his mad dash.
Well, next time he’d know better and keep his head. “Yes, but keep the messengers busy.”
Gatus stared at him, and Esk kar realized he’d given another unnecessary order. Maybe I should have stayed in bed, he decided, since Gatus had everything under control. “I’ll take a horse and check the walls myself, Gatus.” At least that would give him something to do.
He found a horse and swung onto its back. In his rush to the attack site, Esk kar had forgotten that, by his own order, a horse was always kept ready for his use. Instead he had followed the running men. Curses flowed steadily under his breath as he jerked the horse’s head harder than necessary and began to canter toward the rear gate.
Someday, he swore, if he lived long enough, he would learn to think before acting. He made the circuit of the walls not once but twice, taking his time and speaking to the men, urging them to keep silent and to listen for the sounds of men on the move. Three hours later he returned home, to try and get some sleep before dawn.
In their bedroom Esk kar hung up his sword, then sank onto the bed, as reaction to the long night began to set in. Trella lay down next to him and took his hand.
At that moment a hard knocking came from the outer door. “Lady Trella… Captain… please open the door.” They heard Annok — sur’s voice.
Esk kar pushed himself up off the bed, knowing something important had occurred or they wouldn’t have troubled him. Trella reached the door first and unbolted it, to find Annok — sur standing there.
“Jalen sends word for you to come. A slave boy escaped from the enemy camp.”
Seated at the big table in his workroom, Esk kar waited for the strange boy to finish his meal. Simcar claimed to have twelve seasons, but his stick — thin body looked younger. Trella and Annok — sur had insisted on cleaning the boy up first. When Trella escorted him to the workroom, Esk kar, Gatus, and Sisuthros waited, eager to learn what the boy could tell them.
But then Trella had insisted the boy first eat his fill. So the three tired soldiers, who had no sleep that night, watched Simcar eat and drink. Eskkar had to admit the boy looked as if he hadn’t enjoyed a real meal in months. Finally the eating slowed and at last stopped.
“Now, Simcar, tell us who you are and what you’ve seen,” Trella began encouragingly, reaching over and wiping the boy’s mouth with a bit of rag, then taking his hand and holding it. “Take your time and tell us everything.”
Simcar’s eyes widened, nervous under the gaze of the men. At first he had trouble speaking, his voice high and uncertain, but under Trella’s smiles he gradually gained confidence.
“Three months ago, the Alur Meriki raided my father’s farm. We lived in the lands to the north. They killed my older brother, but they wanted us for slaves. They beat all of us, and we had to work very hard just to get something to eat.”
“Did you learn their language, Simcar?” Trella smiled at the boy.
“Oh, yes, we had to learn fast. They beat us every time we didn’t understand. My mother helped me, as long as she could.”
“What happened to your family?”
“They killed my father a few weeks ago. He did something bad… I’m not sure what. My mother is a slave to one of their clan leaders. I don’t know what happened to my sister.”
Esk kar saw moisture in the boy’s eyes, but pretended not to notice.
“I’m sorry for your family.” Trella patted his shoulder. “What made you run away from them?”
“My mother told me. She said I had to try to escape to Orak. She’d heard the stories about the fighting, and said this was my best chance. I didn’t want to leave her, but…” Simcar’s voice choked, and he stopped for a moment. “She told me to sneak across the plain if the night attack failed, that they wouldn’t be looking for anyone trying to get into Orak.”
“You’re safe now, Simcar,” Trella said reassuringly. “Your mother was right to send you here. But we need to ask you some questions. We’re trying to find out what attacks the Alur Meriki have planned. Can you help us?”
Esk kar and the others leaned closer, each of them with a dozen questions but they’d agreed to let Trella guide the boy through his story. Eskkar forced himself to smile to conceal his impatience. “You were very brave to slip through their lines, Simcar. Go on.”
The boy brightened at the compliment, and Trella began her questions.
What were the other boys like? Were there many women in the camp? Was there enough food for all the boys? How did the animals look? Well fed or lean? Was water in plentiful supply? How about firewood? What did you eat each day? What did the other boys say about Orak? How did the warriors look? Were they angry or patient? Did you see any clan chiefs? What were they like? Did you hear anyone speak about them in anger? Where were the horses? How many were there? Were there many guards? Did the warriors quarrel among themselves. Over what?
With each question Simcar’s replies grew longer and more detailed, as if he were proud of the fact he’d noticed all the things Trella inquired about. Esk kar kept the smile fixed on his face and by now Gatus and Sisuthros had taken the hint and nodded encouragement to the boy as well, masking their eagerness as best they could. Esk kar saw Gatus biting his lip and Sisuthros’s hand gripping the edge of the table. But Trella chatted away, keeping her tone light and her questions short, stopping once to ask if Simcar wanted more food or water.
Gradually the picture unfolded and Esk kar realized he was seeing the Alur Meriki encampment through the boy’s eyes. The large central camp, fl anked by two smaller ones. The herds of horses pastured up against the river. Another, smaller herd kept to the south, though the grass was poorer there-the lands closest to the river had already started to see some re-growth after the burning. The wagons and carts moving to and fro, changing owners as men died in the fighting and their wives and possessions were taken or traded to the remaining warriors. The path the women and girls took to get water from the river.
From the boy’s story Esk kar visualized the line of sentries hidden beyond the low hills that overlooked the approaches to and from the village.
A band of forty or fifty warriors waited behind the sentries, in constant readiness to prevent anyone from trying to enter or leave the village, or to repel any sorties from the gate. Esk kar could almost hear the women weeping late into the night and the sullen looks of the boys whose fathers had been killed.
As Simcar went on Esk kar pictured the warriors’ angry faces as they strode about the camp, unable to attack the village, yet with no other target for their rage within fifty miles. Fighting men forced to remain in idle-ness, with too much time on their hands, and not even the usual activity of the day’s march to occupy them. Naturally they would take to drinking and quarreling when the sun went down.
Simcar had been talking for some time and Trella’s questions became more direct as she and the boy grew comfortable with each other. “… so, Simcar, did you hear of any plans the Alur Meriki have to attack Orak?”
The question seemed casual, but Esk kar found himself leaning forward a little more.
“Yes, Lady Trella. Six nights ago their leader, Thutmose — sin, met with the council, and I decided to go listen to them talk about the battle.” By now the words flowed easily from his lips. “I crept up to the campfires and found a place where I and some other boys could watch and listen. We heard them plan how they would attack Orak at night.”
Under the table, Esk kar’s hand knotted into a fist again and he had to force himself to relax it. If the boy had heard their plans..
“And no one chased you away?” Trella poured more water into Simcar’s cup.
Simcar took several large swallows before replying. “No, the guards didn’t care, and there were many others even closer. So I went again last night, after the battle. The chiefs met again, along with many of the warriors. There was much shouting and pushing, and Thutmose — sin raised his voice many times. The guards didn’t even notice us this time, there were so many warriors there. They wanted to listen, too. I could only hear them when they raised their voices, but they did that a lot.”
Trella patted his shoulder. “Tell us what you heard. Start from the beginning.”
“Well, Thutmose — sin began talking about why the night attack did not succeed. He blamed one of the other chiefs for the… failure.” Simcar had to stop to think of the right word. “Said it was something he’d told them wouldn’t work. He was very angry that they had been defeated. There was more shouting and cursing. Some raised their fists against Thutmose — sin.
Others said the Alur Meriki should move on, that there was little to gain here even if the fire attack is successful.”
“What’s the ‘fire attack,’ Simcar,” Trella asked unconcernedly, picking at some threads on her dress, merely another in the long list of questions.
“Is that something special that they have planned?”
“Oh, yes! They have loaded a great number of carts, all piled high with wood and logs and anything that will burn, enough to burn the whole village down, my master says. They’ll place the carts against the gate and set fire to it until the gate is burned away. They’ve been collecting wood from the countryside for more than a week, soaking it in the black oil or drying it in the sun.”
“What else did they say about the fire attack?” Trella’s voice remained soothing, as if this topic were no more important than questions about the camp’s food.
“Well, nothing more. Thutmose — sin said the fire attack would succeed, that the other attacks had just wasted time and men. They argued about it for a long time, and then everyone just left and went back to their tents.”
So Thutmose — sin remained the great chief, Esk kar thought. All these months and they hadn’t even been sure who led the Alur Meriki. But now Thutmose — sin’s time was running out. The sarrum argued openly with his chiefs and nothing less than a quick victory would save him. He’d failed to capture Orak, so he would be doubly dangerous as desperation forced his hand.
“Do you know when they will come with the fire wagons, or how?”
Trella went on. Once again she held Simcar’s hand and smiled at him.
“Oh, yes, Lady Trella, it will be soon. I heard all about it from my friend. All the camp knew of the plans. They’ll use great wooden shields to protect them from the archers. Then they’ll heap the dry timber against the gate. They’ll fire the wood and keep adding more until the gate is destroyed. Then they will cross the ditch and attack through the gate.”
Trella questioned the boy for another few moments, but eventually she sat back and looked at Esk kar. “Well, Simcar, you were very brave.
Now I think Esk kar would like to ask you a few things. Do you need to rest first?”
The boy shook his head.
By now Esk kar had only two questions. “Simcar,” he began, keeping his voice calm, “where is this great pile of wood and carts, and do you know if they keep a guard on it?”
“Yes, lord. The wood is stored behind the rise to the south. My mother and I tried to get close once, but the guards there threw stones and chased us off. They knew we wanted to steal firewood. There’s always a guard there, otherwise women would take all the wood and use it for the campfires. I think,” he paused to remember, “I think there were three or four men guarding it.”
Gatus and Sisuthros had other questions but they learned little more.
After a while, Trella suggested they let Simcar get some rest. She escorted the boy to the door and turned him over to Annok — sur before returning to the table.
“Best to let him sleep for a few hours, then we can go over his story again. He may remember something else of importance.” Trella leaned back in her chair and looked at the three men.
“Well, we knew they were coming soon,” Gatus said, shifting in his seat and twisting his shoulders. They’d scarcely moved for nearly an hour, not wanting to disturb the boy’s tale. Sisuthros poured water for all of them.
“And we know how and where,” Esk kar finished. “This time there will be nothing held back. Thutmose — sin must win or lose control. Too many men have died. The other chiefs will try to kill him the moment the attack fails. Even his own clan won’t be able to protect him.”
“We can strengthen the gate,” Sisuthros suggested in a whisper, his words still coming with difficulty.
“Aye, we can do that well enough,” Gatus agreed. “We’ll need a lot more water at the gate, for one thing.” But he didn’t sound confident, and all three men knew water alone wasn’t going to stop the burning.
“I thought if we knew their plans,” Esk kar said, “we might do something, raid the camp, stampede the horses, anything… but all that isn’t important now and wouldn’t even delay their attack. And we can’t get to the store of wood. It’s too far from the walls and we’d have to get past both their sentries and the armed party. By the time we fought our way through, the whole camp would be roused.”
“It would take too long to start fires and burn the wood anyway,” Gatus agreed. “And if you took enough men to do the task, they’d hear you coming, just as we heard them.”
No one said anything. Trella stood and went to the cabinet. She withdrew a map of Orak and its surroundings, a copy of the one Corio had shown them months ago. She unrolled it across the table and smoothed the surface with care. “Can you show me where the wood is stored?” she asked, as the men instinctively moved closer. Sisuthros sat on the table’s edge and leaned over Gatus’s shoulder.
Gatus picked up the wooden pointing stick rolled up inside the papyrus.
“Here. If the boy is right, this must be where the wood is being collected.
These hills are high enough to keep us from seeing what’s behind them.
They could’ve been moving anything there for days without our noticing.”
Esk kar stared at the map. The site was too far from Orak’s walls, a mile at least and well to the south. Even if a raiding party got there, none would ever return alive, even at night.
“And where do they keep the horses?” Trella continued. “I couldn’t follow what Simcar said about the river.”
Gatus moved the pointer. “Here. We can even see one herd from the walls.”
Esk kar took the pointer from Gatus’s hand. “If I were in charge, with that many horses, there would be at least three herds, each a few hundred paces apart, with rope corrals to keep them separate and hold them in against the river.”
“That makes sense,” Gatus said. “The curve of the river and the rise of the ground would make that the easiest way to control big herds like that.”
He looked at Esk kar. “How many in each herd? Three or four hundred?”
Esk kar closed his eyes and tried to visualize the land. He’d seen it often enough, even ridden along it once or twice during the last preparations for the siege. Opening his eyes and pointing to the land closest to Orak, “I’d put the largest herd here, probably close to four hundred horses. Then about three hundred each in the other two places.” He looked up at Trella and saw that she continued to stare at the map.
“It would be good to set fire to the wood they’ve prepared, isn’t that right?” Trella asked, her eyes directly on Esk kar. “If we could destroy it, then they might not be able to attack.”
“Yes, that would set them back considerably, maybe even stop the fire attack or at least weaken it. They’ve stripped the land bare for lumber and there can’t be much more left out there, even if they could find and bring it here.”
“But you can’t raid the wood store, because it’s too far.” She pointed to the place where they guessed the main herd was kept. “But you could raid the horses, could you not? I mean, in the place closest to us. What would you do there?”
Esk kar didn’t answer because he caught the glimmer of her idea and began to think it through. Shifting in his chair, he began to think aloud.
“We could move a small party out at night, either slip them by the sentries or kill them silently. Then we could stampede the horses and drive as many of them as we could into the river. The current is swift there and many would drown, while others would be swept downstream. The whole camp would be in an uproar, and every warrior would rush to the river to see to his horses. Then…” he moved the pointer back to the location of the wood, “during the confusion, we could slip another party through the lines to this place and we could burn the wagons.”
Sisuthros let out a sound that could have been a laugh if his wound weren’t so painful, and Gatus swore softly before answering. “Attacking their horses would draw every man to the river, I’d bet my life on it. We could slip in, burn the carts, and race back to the walls. But it would take time to fire the wagons.”
“What about the men who attack the horses?” Trella asked. “Could they get back to Orak?”
“No, they’d be trapped there,” Gatus answered soberly. “Once the horses began to stampede, the riders who guard the approaches to Orak would cut them off.” Silence followed his words. “Still, it would be worth it, even if we lost the men. As Esk kar says, if we burn the wood, then we can weaken the attack, even if we can’t prevent it.” His eyes turned to Eskkar, as did Trella’s and Sisuthros’s.
Their captain remained lost in thought, his eyes focused on the map.
Nobody wanted to interrupt him. He tapped on the location of the horses with his finger, forgetting Corio’s admonishment about touching the papyrus. “Perhaps there’s a way to get the men back after all.” He looked up and found them all staring at him.
“The carts and wood must be destroyed,” Esk kar said softly, “even if we have to chance losing men. But I think it can be managed.” He turned to Gatus. “Get the other leaders here, even Bantor. We have much to plan if we’re to attack tonight.”
“Tonight! By the gods, we’ve hardly finished one battle and you’re planning another?”
“Tonight. It must be tonight. If we let another day go by, they may launch their own attack.” He smiled at Trella and took her hand. “As always, you give us good ideas, wife. And I think we’ll add Simcar to our household from now on. Just in case the gods are slow in their duty to send us a son.”