For the next two hours the nobles argued, as much among themselves as with Esk kar. Nicar sent out for more wine, and voices rose as Esk kar explained what happened outside, and what Drigo and his men had planned for Orak. Finally satisfied with Drigo’s demise, the talk shifted back to the wall and the coming invasion. Esk kar explained his plans again and again, repeating how the barbarians could be beaten from behind a wall. The tide turned when Rebba posed a key question.
“Suppose, Esk kar, the wall cannot be built high and strong enough in the time we have. After all, it can take months to build even a house. What then?”
“Noble Rebba, that’s the most important question, and the one I can’t answer. We must meet with the builders and masons and learn whether a wall can be built. If it cannot, then we’re all free to stay or go.”
Rebba wasn’t finished yet. “Suppose they say it can be done and we start work, but the barbarians come before the wall is finished. We’d be trapped here, defenseless.”
Esk kar and Trella had spoken of that possibility. “We can only try, Rebba. But the first moment we learn we can’t finish in time, then we can leave. I don’t want to fight them in the open.”
Esk kar recalled more of Trella’s thoughts. “But if we run now, we abandon everything you’ve built here, and Orak will never be so great again. The trade up and down the river will dry up. Remember, too, we face danger in leaving a place and starting over. Every man becomes a looter, and every clan becomes a robber tribe. But if we drive them away, we break the old cycle of death and destruction. Orak will become the greatest village in the world. And you will own it.”
Rebba stared down at his wine cup. Esk kar wondered if all of them had drunk too much to think clearly. He’d wanted some wine himself, but one look at Trella standing behind him and he’d stayed with water. Now Rebba shifted his gaze toward Nicar and nodded.
“Esk kar,” began Nicar, “leave us for a moment. We need to discuss some things privately.”
“I understand.” He stood up, and it felt good to stretch his legs. “Come, Trella, we’ll wait in the garden. Take this,” he said, handing her Drigo’s blade. Small and well made, it would be a fitting gift. She might need it in the coming days.
When Esk kar opened the door, he found Creta there, and this time he knew she overheard every word. Her attitude had changed, and she bowed nervously toward him, this time with genuine respect. At the front entrance a manservant, his mouth agape, rushed to open the door for them.
Esk kar found Gatus and his men bunched inside the front garden.
They’d moved the nobles’ bodyguards into the courtyard. They sat weaponless on the ground, their backs to the wall that hid Nicar’s sanctuary from the street. Through the open gate, Esk kar saw villagers filling the lane, jammed together as tightly as possible in the narrow confines. Soldiers using spears kept them away from the entrance.
A shout went up from the crowd when they saw Esk kar emerge. The rising clamor was a mixture of people cheering and calling his name. Gatus strode over, a broad smile on his face.
“Greetings, Captain,” he said formally, bowing properly so that everyone could see Esk kar’s authority. “When they brought out Drigo’s body, word spread like a steppes fire. We had to bring the guards inside. It’s a good thing Drigo and his whelp were so unpopular.”
He moved closer so that only Esk kar could hear him. “I sent for the rest of the men when I saw the crowd growing. Maybe you should say something to them.”
Esk kar could barely hear him over the noise from the street. At least five hundred people packed the lane, more villagers than he’d ever seen gathered together before. He turned to Trella. “What shall I say?” Just as he’d gotten accustomed to speaking freely with the Families, he now had to speak to a rabble and had no idea what to tell them.
She pulled his arm down so she could speak in his ear. “It doesn’t matter. You’re a hero to them now. Tell them that all will be well, that Nicar and the others will speak to them soon.”
“But the nobles haven’t finished talking yet. Suppose they decide to run?”
“Never! They decided to stay and fi ght an hour ago. They just needed to talk themselves into it.”
He forced a smile to his face and strode toward the gate. Propping his foot on the gate’s crossbar, he pulled himself up so he rose above the throng and held up his hand for silence. It took time for the noise to cease, helped along by stern words from the soldiers in front, which gave him time to think.
“People of Orak,” he began, raising his voice. “The Four Families will speak to you soon. You’ll hear from them what we plan to do.”
An angry roar answered him, some people shouting that the Families would run, others that he must save them, some merely crying his name over and over. They began to press against his men. Soon they’d push their way into the garden.
“Silence,” he roared in his battle voice, loud enough to be heard the length of the street. “Silence, or I’ll leave you to the barbarians!” That stopped both the noise and the push of the crowd toward the house. He took another deep breath. “Go to the marketplace and await Nicar and the other Families. Go now!”
He swung down from the gate but his sandal caught in the crosspiece and he lost his balance. Only Gatus’s strong arm kept him upright. Gods, if he’d fallen on his ass, the villagers would have laughed themselves senseless. He and Trella went back into the house, the door already opened wide by the waiting servant. When it closed safely behind them, he breathed a sigh of relief, then looked up to find Nicar walking toward him.
“Well, Esk kar, what other surprises do you have for us? Perhaps you should tell us what you’ve decided to do. I begin to wonder what I have unleashed.”
Despite the irony in Nicar’s words, Esk kar heard respect in them as well.
“Nothing you need worry about, Nicar. I only want to hear your decision. Do we stay and fight, or do we run?”
“The Families have decided to stay and lead the defense of Orak,” Nicar answered, raising his voice and knowing his words would be heard and repeated. “You’ll be in command of Orak until the barbarians have been driven off.” He lowered his voice so only Esk kar and Trella could hear.
“Though I wonder what will happen then.” Nicar shrugged resignedly. “It doesn’t matter. What must we do now?”
“Take the nobles to the marketplace. Let everyone see that all are united in this. You know better than I what to say. After all of you speak, then I’ll tell them how hard it’s going to be.”
Nicar nodded, pulling at his beard. “Is there anything else?”
“No, nothing. I’m sure there will be…” Trella grasped his arm and whispered in his ear. “Oh, yes… I think you should send men to take possession of Drigo’s house and goods. We can begin paying for the defense of Orak with his gold.”
“Yes, an excellent suggestion, Esk kar.” Nicar glanced at Trella. “That may soften the blow to the Families as well.” Nicar hesitated for a moment.
“And what do you want from Drigo’s goods for yourself?”
“I want nothing to do with his gold.” Murdering men for their goods might bring down the anger of the gods, or so the priests said, and he’d tried to avoid their wrath as much as possible since he ceased his raiding days. “But his house is large and will make an excellent headquarters for my men, as well as a place to begin storing our weapons. When you have emptied it, perhaps you’ll approve our using it.”
“And after this is over, you’ll keep it, I suppose,” Nicar answered. “Well, why not? I did promise you a house, though I wasn’t expecting it to be larger than my own.”
“Nicar, if I live long enough to keep his house, I’ll pay you and the other Families fairly for it. You can tell that to the nobles, if any ask.”
Nicar studied him for a moment. “You continue to surprise me, Esk kar.
Take the house at sundown tomorrow. That will give us time to search it and discover Drigo’s hiding places.”
Nicar faced Trella once again. “I wonder if I made a mistake in giving you away. Your laughter started the killing as surely as a blow. For a moment I thought you both planned it in advance.” He shook his head. “No, that can’t be true. Young Drigo, the fool, brought it on himself.”
Nicar turned back to Esk kar. “Though you didn’t need to kill his father.
You could have…”
“If I hadn’t, he would have killed me. If not today, then soon enough.”
Esk kar had acted instinctively, but he knew he’d done the right thing. Father and son both had to die.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Nicar agreed reluctantly. “Anyway, it’s too late to think about such matters. Let’s go to the marketplace and reassure the people. We’ve much to tell them, if we’re going to convince them to stay and fight.”
It was five hours after sundown before Esk kar blew out the flame from the lamp. Since the morning, they’d not had a moment alone in the long day that changed Esk kar’s fortune more than any day since his birth. He crawled under the blanket, where her waiting arms folded around him. For a long time they held each other, the events of the day still a whirlwind in their minds.
“We made it through the day, thanks to you, Trella.”
That was true enough. She had probably saved his life by warning him about Naxos. And by provoking Drigo at the right time, she’d guided the outcome as surely as his own actions.
In the market, Nicar had spoken to the crowd. He promised grain, silver coins, and new or better houses for those who stayed and fought. He guaranteed the craftsmen protection in their trade. Food and grain would be stockpiled in the village, enough to feed everyone until after the danger had passed. And finally, slaves and bound servants who worked on the wall would earn their freedom in return, and their owners would receive compensation.
Shouts of anger from some and cheers from the slaves greeted that announcement, but Nicar stood his ground. Orak had to survive, and the village’s defense needed skilled men. He repeated the warning that those trying to leave with critical tools or slaves would be stopped.
The other nobles and even Orak’s two priests spoke to the crowd. They all answered questions and stressed the need to stay and defend their homes and families.
Only Nicar’s pronouncement that Esk kar would be in charge of the village’s defense put the crowd at ease.
“Your words pleased the villagers, Esk kar. I could see they trusted you.”
In the market Trella had sat at his feet, her back to the crowd, to make sure that he didn’t forget anything of importance. He’d warned the people about the dangers of leaving Orak, the risk of traveling on the roads, and the bandits that would follow the barbarians. Again and again he assured them the barbarians could be driven away and that a wall would protect them.
He promised he would defend all of them.
And it had worked. In the end, most of the crowd roared approval of both Nicar and Esk kar as men who would save their families and their lives. They ignored Esk kar’s origins; he was one of them now, their protector. The shouting and talking continued long after Esk kar and the nobles left the marketplace.
“I hope we persuaded enough of them to stay. Many will need to work on the wall.”
Trella stayed silent for a moment, then clasped him tightly again before she spoke.
“I’ve never seen men killed like that before… I mean… so suddenly.
In Carnax I watched an execution, but I never saw men… killing like that… it was more bloody than I expected.” She pushed closer to him, moving her leg over his, rubbing herself against him. “And you could have been killed. When Drigo rushed at you with the dagger, I thought you would die. And I provoked him, wanted him to attack you, laughed at him until he lost control.”
“Men die all the time. And men like Drigo and his foolish child, they die more easily because they know nothing of real fighting. I’ve fought many battles, and I’ve learned something from all of them.”
“What of Naxos? He was no pampered brat, and he was standing close enough to you.”
Her concern was real. She’d been truly frightened for him.
“Naxos was different, but he was already beaten when the archers rose up behind me. If his men had been trained fi ghters, they would have rushed us when the first arrow struck, and the bowmen would have had no targets. Instead they just stood there, and their will to fight vanished. Killing him only made it easier to provoke Drigo and control his men.”
“And what would you have done if they had attacked you?”
He laughed softly in her ear as his hand found her breast. The touch excited him.
“Naxos and his guards were bullies, used to swaggering through the streets and breaking villagers’ heads. Guards don’t expect to fight archers.
That’s why they frightened so easily.”
But that arrow had passed closer than he liked to admit, flying just above his head. The archer and Jalen had split one of Esk kar’s new gold coins as a reward, an act of generosity he already regretted. A few silver coins would have sufficed. And that was in addition to the three silver coins he’d promised each of the archers.
She shivered under his touch, and her hand moved from around his neck to begin stroking his chest. “Now the people will follow you. Even the Families will do what you say, now that Drigo is gone.” She moved her hand down to his hip, letting her fingers explore.
“Drigo would have made himself ruler of Orak. It was better that he died quickly, rather than stand in our way.”
Her touch made him even more eager, and his worries faded as his desire hardened. The picture of Drigo running onto his sword flashed into his mind, and that image made him even more excited. Killing often did that, he knew, made a man lust for a woman, any woman, simply to prove that you still lived after the fighting stopped, that you’d survived and someone else was dead.
And what a woman was in his bed tonight, he thought, as his hands began to roam her body-one more precious than any in the village. Perhaps the killings had excited her as well. Women often became aroused after seeing a kill. She had, after all, helped bring them about.
The warmth in the bed grew, and not all of it from the thick blanket.
Trella’s mouth found his for a long kiss that left them both breathless.
“And what plans does my master have for me in the morning?” she whispered seductively, as her hand reached down to touch his manhood.
“Tomorrow will take care of itself.” He rolled onto her stomach, unable to restrain himself any longer and feeling her legs part easily beneath him. “Tonight you have much more important duties.”
The next morning Esk kar’s regular habits asserted themselves and he rose before daybreak. He dressed quietly and left Trella asleep in the warm bed. At the well he washed his hands and face in the cold water as the first rays of the sun reached over the eastern hills and covered Orak with its soft light. A long drink from a second bucket satisfied his thirst.
Then he strode toward the barracks room to wake the men. But the door stood open, and Gatus, dressed and wearing a short sword, emerged as Esk kar approached.
“I just woke them up, Captain. The lazy brutes will be surly all day. Not many went to bed early last night.”
“Thank you, Gatus.” His second in command must have arisen even before Esk kar. They went over the orders for the day as men still half — asleep stumbled forth into the sunlight. Nicar had stressed to Orak’s inhabitants that they must remain under control and go about their daily affairs, and the soldiers needed to keep order. Esk kar and Gatus had discussed these plans briefly last night, but Esk kar wanted to make sure the men kept busy for the rest of the day.
By the time Esk kar returned to his room, the sun had cleared the horizon. He found the door open to freshen the air. Trella had laid out their breakfast. Today the bread came from a baker who specialized in a different, more expensive type of grain. A glass bottle, scarcely taller than his thumb and with its own wooden stopper, held a handful of brown salt.
Water from the well now rested inside a graceful pitcher, next to another that contained weak beer. A new clay plate had also joined Esk kar’s increasing supply of worldly goods. Two dark — brown sausages, both larger than yesterday’s, mixed their aroma with that of the still — warm bread.
“Good morning, Trella.” He took her by the shoulders and kissed her, enjoying the taste of her lips. After a moment, she put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. The sight of the bed only a step away began to tempt him. She must have sensed what he was thinking, because she pushed herself away.
“Good morning, master. You must eat. Corio will be here soon.”
They sat down at the table and began to eat. Trella explained her new arrangement with one of the street vendors. A boy would deliver their breakfast each morning. Esk kar knew he could look forward to more good meals from now on.
When they fi nished, Esk kar and Trella went over ideas about the wall.
They’d discussed this last night, but Esk kar wanted to be sure he didn’t forget anything.
Trella’s ability to anticipate problems continued to impress him. She was teaching him to think like a ruling noble, something his years in and around Orak and other villages had never succeeded in doing.
Not that her wits or ideas mattered to him any longer. If she were deaf and dumb, he’d keep her for her lovemaking. Already he looked forward to the coming night.
A tall shadow appeared in the doorway, darkening the room, and a voice called out. “Greetings, Esk kar. Nicar asked that I speak with you.”
“Enter, Honored Corio.” Esk kar put thoughts of Trella in his bed aside, rose from the table and extended his hand to the master artisan. “Join us at table. Would you care for some wine?”
“Not at present, thank you,” Corio spoke in a deep bass voice. He sat down at the table. The builder’s eyes examined his host closely, no doubt sizing up the new Esk kar, who yesterday had magically been transformed from a common soldier into a leader of men.
“Trella, this is Master Corio, the most important builder in Orak.” Eskkar looked at Corio. “Trella will join us. I find her most useful to keep track of things.”
If Corio found anything strange in that, he said nothing. Esk kar noticed that he did give Trella a thorough look.
“Well, then, Esk kar, what’s all this about a wall? I wasn’t at the marketplace yesterday, but I heard you and Nicar promised a wall would be built around the village, a wall big enough to stop the barbarians.” He tightened his lips. “I meant no disrespect with the word.”
Esk kar laughed. He guessed the thoughts in Corio’s head. Yesterday Esk kar would have bowed to him in the street. Today Corio would worry that he might be killed as easily as young Drigo-and with as little consequence. Esk kar smiled to put the man at ease.
“I’m well civilized, Corio, so use the word as you wish. As you say, I promised a wall to the villagers yesterday, and now I must ask you to help me keep my promise. I need a wall around Orak, high enough and strong enough to keep the barbarians at bay, a wall that I can fill with bowmen to pour arrows into their ranks. Can you build such a wall?”
“Any wall can be built, Captain. How high a wall would be needed?”
“At least twenty — five feet high. That height gives my archers a clear field of fire even as it increases their range. Of course, the wall would have to be strong enough so that it could not be easily pulled down.”
When Corio didn’t respond, Esk kar went on. “The wall need not surround all of Orak. We’d have the outlying houses torn down and the fields on both sides flooded. I rode around the village two days ago. The wall would have to be bigger than the palisade is today, but not too much more.”
Corio shifted a little on the bench, as if he found it uncomfortable. “A wall such as you describe would take at least a year, perhaps as many as two, to build. You expect the barbarians to arrive in five months?”
“Your pardon, Master Corio.” Trella’s voice was properly subservient.
“My master does not mean to tell you what to construct. You are the master builder. He only asks what can be built that will stop the barbarians. Is that not correct, master?”
Eskkar kept his face impassive. “Yes, of course, that’s what I meant. I would not tell the blacksmith how to cast me a sword. I can only ask for what I need.” Esk kar leaned back in his chair. He’d asked Corio, politely and respectfully, for his services. Honor required that the artisan give an honest answer.
Corio drummed his fingers on the table. “Assuming that I remain in Orak to work on such a project, how many men would be available to work on this wall? Also, materials would need to be purchased from other places along the river. And we might need craftsmen from other villages as well.
How much coin is Nicar willing to pay?”
“You’ll have every man in the village, Corio. Everyone, including myself and my soldiers if necessary, plus the hundreds of new men who’ll begin arriving, driven south by the oncoming barbarians. Seven days a week and long into the night. No man will be spared. Even Nicar has promised to labor on it. And all the gold of the Families will be made available to buy whatever is needed.”
As the master artisan sat contemplating this information, Esk kar did some sizing up of his own. About the same age, Corio stood a few inches shorter, with thinning hair already tinted with gray. His face had almost no trace of a beard, and his eyes gleamed with intelligence. Esk kar knew him to be a skilled craftsman, used to naming his own prices, working at his own pace, and following his own rules. Nothing could compel him to build the wall. They needed a key to get him involved, something that would make him want to stay. Esk kar remembered what Trella had suggested.
“Listen, Corio,” Esk kar leaned across the table, “if we can hold off the barbarians, Orak will be the biggest and most important village for a hundred, no, two hundred miles in every direction. The man who builds the wall that saves Orak will be the most famous and skilled artisan in the land. It will be the wall that defeats the barbarians, not the soldiers, not the villagers. Your fame would spread up and down the river, and you’d be remembered forever. And you’d be well paid for your efforts.”
And if you can’t, Esk kar thought to himself as he settled back, then we’ll all begin planning our departure.
“Master, I recall that Noble Nicar spoke about establishing another House to replace Drigo’s,” Trella added. “If Corio agreed to build such a wall, surely Nicar and the Families would accept him as their equal.”
Nicar had said no such thing, but Esk kar liked the idea anyway. Even he knew of Corio’s reputation as an honest man who treated everyone fairly. Nicar and the Families could do worse. “It’s a chance to join the nobles, Corio. Think of the honor. You’d become one of Orak’s rulers.”
The artisan sat there, glancing from one to the other. “And Nicar has agreed to that?” he asked pointedly.
“If he’s forgotten, my master will remind him.”
Esk kar nodded. “Yes, I’m sure nothing will be denied the man who raises the wall that saves Orak.” We have him now, Esk kar decided-even Corio couldn’t resist the thought of establishing his own noble house.
Esk kar had run out of words, so he waited in silence, watching as Corio thought some more, the artisan’s fingers again drumming on the tabletop.
The drumming stopped abruptly as Corio stood up. “Excuse me a moment, Captain.” He stepped to the doorway and called out to someone.
Immediately a young man carrying a large cloth pouch rushed to his master. Taking the pouch, Corio returned to the table, extracted a cylinder of leather about the size of a quiver of arrows and removed its cap. Carefully, he withdrew a roll of papyrus and set it out on the table, holding down the corners with four small weights that also came from the pouch.
The papyrus proved to be a map, one that showed the bend of the river and the village. Esk kar had heard of such a thing before but had never seen one. Even the papyrus sheet itself was rare, not something found in the lands nearby, but an expensive item traded on the river.
As for the map, it was as if Esk kar were a bird flying high in the sky, looking down at the Tigris and the village from above. The river flowed in a pale blue stream, but everything else had been stroked in black or brown. The village showed clearly, with a line around it that indicated the palisade. Esk kar caught the excitement in Trella’s eyes and knew that she had never seen such a treasure either.
“This is a map prepared by my slave several weeks ago. After yesterday’s… events, I sent him round the village and palisade again, and then we worked on other details most of the night. So… what’s shown here is correct in most respects.”
Esk kar’s eyes stayed on the map, but he thought about Corio’s words.
Working through the night meant burning lamps or candles, expensive items even for Corio. Even more interesting was that Corio had heard all the talk about the barbarians and the wall, and prepared himself for this meeting. That meant that Corio had the wit to see what would be asked of him even before he’d received the summons. It also meant that Corio had his answers ready-and that Esk kar had better ask the right questions.
Trella kept telling me to anticipate everything. Under the table and out of Corio’s sight, his hands tightened into fists.
“Can you understand the map, Esk kar? Many men have trouble understanding the lines and representations.”
The question had been repeated, and Esk kar focused his thoughts on the map again, looking carefully to see the location of the village, river, docks, palisade, farms, and the two roads that met a mile from the village before joining to carry the traffic into and out of Orak.
“Yes, it’s clear enough.”
He’d scratched out enough maps in the dirt while campaigning, and the papyrus made everything easier to follow. Reaching out with his finger, he started to trace the river.
“Please, Captain, don’t touch the sheet with your hands. The inks may smear from the wetness of your fingers, and papyrus is delicate. Use this pointer.” He handed Esk kar a small piece of soft wood with a bluntly rounded tip.
Taking the pointer, Esk kar identified aloud the key points on the map, even noting the directions for north and south, indicated by an arrow point in one corner. Corio explained the few details he didn’t understand.
A glance at Trella showed she, too, grasped what the map represented.
“You do well, Esk kar,” remarked Corio. “Some men have trouble with the scale of the drawing. Now, show me where you’d have your wall and what you would exclude.”
Esk kar didn’t know what Corio meant by the word scale, but he decided not to ask, especially since he was supposed to understand it. He repeated the word to himself, to remind himself to ask Trella later.
“The wall should go to here, Corio, here, and then back to the river’s edge.” Esk kar touched the map lightly with the pointer. “And these places will be flooded, turned into a swamp. I want to force the barbarians to send their main force at the front of Orak, where my men can kill them from the top of the wall.
“Also, the wall on the river side should be extended as close to the bank as possible so that the barbarians cannot gather enough men to rush the wall from the rear or sides. At the front of the village, I will kill them by pouring arrows down on them.”
Corio sat silent for a long moment before he looked up. “The barbarians have seen wooden fences before and learned to use ladders and ropes against them. They’ll use the same tactics against a wall. If your men are busy using their bows, how will they stop men on ladders?”
“I’ve used such ladders myself, against stockades such as our own. A length of wood with a fork on the end can be used to throw the ladder down. Two women, pushing together, can shove back a ladder, even with a warrior on it.”
Esk kar didn’t bother to add he had firsthand experience with that practice, having been thrown down himself and nearly skewered on his sword in the process. “That’s why we need a true wall, a strong structure that cannot be pulled down or burned, and that gives us enough room to position two or three rows of archers to defend it.”
Corio went into another of his long trances, seeming to stare at the map. Esk kar used the moment to glance at Trella. She appeared confident and gave him a quick smile of encouragement.
The master builder took a deep breath and looked up. “When I came here this morning, I expected to tell you truthfully that it was impossible to build a wall around Orak in the time we have. It is not possible to construct a wall of that length and twenty — five feet high, not in the time available. Such a height would require too much strengthening and support work. Also, the base would require preparation and settling. How about a height of about fifteen feet?”
Esk kar had to stop and think, trying to visualize the height in his mind.
He knew fifteen feet to be a little less than the height of three village men. Barbarians tended to be taller, though most of them stood less than six feet tall. But a fit rider could stand on the back of his horse and jump high enough to pull himself over fifteen feet of wall. Even dead horses and men could be used as stepping stones, and ladders that high could be easily constructed and carried.
“No, that’s not high enough,” Esk kar replied, explaining his reasons, sensing even as he did so that Corio already had an answer.
“I suggest, Esk kar, that we make the wall fourteen or fifteen feet high, but that in the front of the wall, we dig a ditch at least ten feet deep and at least thirty feet wide. That would effectively make the height of the wall the twenty — five feet you want.”
When Esk kar didn’t reply, Corio hastened to add, “It’s much easier to dig a ditch than build a wall. And any villager can dig. The dirt from the ditch can be used to make the mud bricks that will form the wall, and the earth and stones can be used for fill.”
Corio had thought all this through. The idea of a ditch was new, something Esk kar had never seen or heard of. He pictured himself standing at the bottom of such a ditch, looking up. The wall would indeed appear to be twenty — five feet high. “Wouldn’t the ditch weaken the wall at the base?”
Esk kar knew solid earth was needed to support a walled structure.
A smile crossed Corio’s face. “You’re quicker than most men, Esk kar, to think of that. But no, the ditch wouldn’t come all the way to the wall’s base.
It would stop about one long pace away, and we would taper the slope to make it difficult to stand on. The bottom of the wall would be reinforced with stones to make it difficult to dig through. That way, the base of the wall retains its support, and the attackers cannot easily dig the foundation away.”
Corio’s own words seemed to give him some discomfort. “You realize, Captain, that if the barbarians begin digging at the base of the wall, then eventually it will weaken and begin to crumble.”
“If we allow them time to dig at the base of the wall, then we are lost.
Stones, arrows, spears, everything will be used to stop them. No, they’ll not have time to dig.”
“Master Corio,” Trella asked politely, “could the ditch be flooded with water from the river?”
Corio started to say something, then paused, perhaps remembering again what happened to young Drigo. “No, if we flood the ditch, then the water itself might weaken the earth at the wall’s base. If we had more time, we could line the ditch with stones and logs to reinforce it.” Corio finished with a condescending smile.
Trella hadn’t finished. “Still, Master Corio, if we flooded the ditch just a little, for a day or two, might it not turn the ditch into a river of mud which would rob the attackers of their footing?”
“Yes, but the mud would dry after a few days, and the ditch would be as it was before,” he explained a little less patiently, again drumming his fingers on the table.
Esk kar decided Corio wasn’t used to listening to suggestions from slaves, and young female ones at that.
“Master Corio, what if we were to flood the ditch every few days, or whenever it began to dry out?”
“If we are locked inside the walls, Trella, we won’t have access to the river to open trenches at our will.” The fingers drummed even faster on the tabletop, and Corio’s reply sounded final.
Trella went on, ignoring the little signs of impatience. “We could use water from the wells inside the village. The wells in Orak are steadily refilled from the river. Could not a water wheel be built to lift the water over the walls?”
The fingers stopped their drumming and the confident smile vanished from Corio’s face. What in the name of the gods was a water wheel? But Esk kar saw that the master builder understood the words. The man went into another of his long moments of thought. Abruptly, Corio arose from the table, strode to the doorway, and passed outside into the sunlight.
Eskkar got up also, curious about whatever was outside, winked at Trella and went to stand in the doorway. To his surprise, he found five of Corio’s apprentices and helpers squatting in the dirt, each carrying a different bundle. One boy had only a large drawing slate hanging from his neck. Corio spoke quietly with his senior apprentice, a man about his own age. The talk went on for some time. Eskkar felt Trella’s arm on his back, slipping up under his tunic and rubbing at the hard muscles on his shoulders.
“What’s a water wheel?” he asked absently, watching Corio. Another apprentice had been summoned into the conversation. This one handed his bag to another and dashed off down the lane. Corio resumed his discussion with his assistant, both of them becoming more animated.
“It’s a tool we used in our village to draw water from the river. With it, a few slaves could easily lift many barrels of water from the river.”
Corio turned from the assistant and walked back toward them.
When they were all seated again, Corio turned to Trella. “My apologies, Trella, I see both you and your master are wiser than you appear. Sometimes it’s better to keep one’s wits hidden and so conceal your abilities.
“Your idea is a good one,” Corio went on, “and one I should have thought of myself. I’ve sent a boy off to find the well maker. We need to know about the force of the water inside the wells and how long it takes to dig new ones and where they could be placed. The water wheel would be an excellent way to lift and move the water. But I don’t think we would need to lift the water over the walls. Holes can be constructed in the wall just above the ground to pass the water through to the ditch. Yes, I think that would work.”
Corio paused for a moment. “We could use clay pipes inside the holes, and build some lengths of wooden troughs to carry the water from the wells to the pipes. The dirt in the ditch would remain a pool of mud, forcing the attackers to move slowly in it, but not so wet as to threaten the base of the wall, or rob it of its strength.”
Esk kar thought about Corio’s comment about hiding one’s wits and realized the master builder included himself in that group. Esk kar had always believed that people like young Drigo who spoke sharply and arrogantly all the time were smarter than he was, smarter than most others.
Perhaps it wasn’t true. Perhaps there were many like Corio and Trella who kept their wits and their mouths to themselves and so avoided the difficulties of appearing to know too much. He would talk about it with Trella later.
“Captain, for the first time, I begin to believe what you propose is barely possible. Whether it can be built in time, I’m not sure, but I will study the matter, and give you an answer tomorrow. It will be close, I warrant that much. But it may be that we can do what you ask.”
“Master Corio,” Trella said, “what of the gates to the village? Can they be made strong enough, if that is where the barbarians will attack?”
“The gates can be strengthened until they’re stronger than the wall, and the ditch can be twice as wide and even deeper there. We’ll need great logs from the forests of the north for that. As long as we keep them wet enough, they won’t burn. The barbarians will try to use a ram against them, but that will take time, and your soldiers will have to kill them.”
He looked at Esk kar. “I hope you’ve thought about barbarians shooting arrows at whatever sticks out over the wall?”
“Yes, Corio, I have.” He didn’t explain further, since he didn’t know yet whether the bows could be crafted in time or men trained.
Esk kar tightened his lips and remained silent, until Corio realized nothing further would be forthcoming. Corio wasn’t the type to ask again.
At that moment, the apprentice returned, accompanied by the village’s well maker. Solus had been appointed by the Families and was the only one in Orak allowed to construct wells. One of the oldest men in the village, short and stooped, he claimed nearly sixty seasons. The man had lived in and around the river all of his life.
“Yes, Master Corio, I come at your summons. What is it you wish to know?” Solus had trouble speaking, mostly because he had so few teeth left in his bald head.
“How difficult is it to construct new wells inside Orak, Solus?” Corio asked, getting right to the point.
“We already have four large wells for public use as well as many private ones that provide more water than we can use. Why would we want more wells?”
Another man with pride in his station and his trade, Esk kar thought with amusement. The old man had ignored him completely. Obviously Corio had worked with Solus before because he took the question in stride.
“We plan for the defense of Orak, and I need water supplies closer to the palisade. I need to know how much pressure is in each well, in case I need to draw large quantities of water each day. So tell me, Master Digger, how long does it take?”
Solus scratched his bald pate and took his time answering, plainly not used to rushing at the beck and call even of Corio, let alone some upstart captain of the guard. “To do it properly, cutting through the rock and walling the sides, about two months.” Solus looked around the table, as if waiting for someone to challenge his estimate.
Corio said nothing, just drummed his fingers on the table.
Solus went on. “As for the water pressure, the force of the river is powerful and the wells in Orak cannot be emptied. As fast as you take water, it will be replenished.”
“Even with a water wheel?” Corio asked.
“Why would you need a water wheel?” When he saw Corio’s expression darken, Solus hastened to amplify his answers. “Yes, even with a water wheel. Further inland, the ground is dry and even a good well can be emptied in three or four days of heavy use.”
Corio stood up and bowed to the digger of wells. “Thank you for your time and your wisdom, Solus. You’ve been of great assistance. I’ve taken you away from your work for long enough.”
When the man left, Corio turned to Esk kar. “He’s an old fool, but a good stone mason. As for the wells, I’m sure a working well could be dug in about a week or two. Solus is very good about taking his time and lengthening out the work. But I believe he’s correct about the pressure of the water.” Corio glanced out the door at the sun, then carefully rolled up his map, replacing it in the case, which he sealed tightly.
“I’ll go and review my estimates. By noon tomorrow, I’ll return and tell you what you need to know.”
“My thanks to you, Master Corio,” Esk kar replied. He stood and clasped Corio’s arm. “I’ve learned much this morning.”
“As have I.” Corio’s smile this time was more relaxed. He started for the door but then stopped and turned back. “Honorable Captain,” he began formally, “I don’t wish to offend, but I would ask something.” He looked at Trella, then continued. “If you should ever wish to sell your servant, then I would be prepared to pay almost any price. In my trade, I must search constantly for people with certain skills and talents. Your servant seems to have many such skills.” His eyes fl ickered from Esk kar to Trella and back to Esk kar.
“Master Builder, I thank you for your generous offer, but Trella is not for sale.” Esk kar smiled to show that he hadn’t taken any offense. “And we look forward to meeting you tomorrow.” He bowed to Corio, as did Trella.
Corio hesitated as if wanting to add something, but instead merely smiled. He bowed and left the room, calling out to his apprentices as he did so. Esk kar went to the doorway and watched him depart with his en-tourage. The master artisan had given him much food for thought, but now Esk kar’s thoughts were elsewhere.
He stepped out into the bright sun and called out to the guard, standing patiently at his post. “I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone for the next hour. If someone asks, tell them I’m busy planning the defense of Orak.”
The guard looked at him and nodded his understanding, keeping his face under control. Returning inside, Esk kar closed the door and dropped the wooden bar across the entrance. Trella was clearing the table of the water cups, but looked up at the sound, put down the cups, and walked into his arms.
“You should be meeting with Nicar and with the tradesmen,” she put her arms around him and her head against his chest. “Master Corio seems to be the most important person in Orak right now, and we should …”
“Be quiet, girl,” his voice already hoarse with passion, “or I’ll sell you to Corio. I’m sure he could keep you busy building things.” His hands slid under her dress. Feeling her softness, he marveled once again at how she roused him.
“Maybe I would like him better. He might not keep me up all night.”
Her hands were under his tunic now, making him even more excited.
He lifted the dress up over her head and tossed it toward the table, then picked her up, carried her to the bed, and deposited her gently on the blankets. He stood over her looking down at her naked body as he removed his tunic. She moved sinuously in the bed, looking up at him and arching her back a little in anticipated pleasure. Remembering his promise from last night, he vowed to keep better control of his desire.
“Trella, my woman, you belong to me, and with me you will stay.” He sat down on the bed and began kissing her breasts, and then he had no more words in his head for anyone or anything.