by Sam Barone
4
Eskkar found Gatus sitting against the barracks wall, dozing in the early afternoon sun while waiting for his captain. Climbing to his feet, Gatus yawned loudly, then led the way to the stable.
Fewer than a dozen horses remained. Ariamus had taken the best, leaving behind animals past their prime. Not that Esk kar would have trusted any of them in a hard fight, including those taken by Ariamus. It took gold to buy, maintain, and train good horses, and the miserly nobles spent as few of their coins as possible on the soldiers’ mounts.
They picked two horses that needed work, and Esk kar led the way to the hilltop where he’d done his thinking yesterday. The two men sat facing each other, and Esk kar repeated everything he’d told Nicar, this time in much more detail. Gatus made suggestions about the food and supplies needed, the quantity and quality of weapons, and how the men would be paid. They discussed the soldiers, talking about individual abilities and how best they could be used. Gatus agreed with the three Esk kar had in mind for subcommanders.
They tried to come up with everything needed to raise, train, and support a large number of fi ghting men. Then they attempted to put tasks in order, what must be done first, what could wait a few weeks longer. Last, they discussed the barbarians, guessing what they might do when they saw the wall, how they’d use their weapons and horses, and the most likely points of attack.
Esk kar had never had such a discussion before. All his life, fighting was something you just did, not something you planned for. You might try to ambush your enemy, or catch them asleep, but for horsemen, there was little else in the way of tactics. In true steppes tradition, Esk kar believed the best plan of all was to have more men and better horses than your enemy. If outnumbered, barbarians tended to avoid battle, preferring to fight another day. Neither Esk kar nor the Alur Meriki felt any loss of honor in turning away from such unfavorable conflicts. Now Esk kar had to devise ways to resist not only a numerically superior foe, but one whose individual warriors were stronger and more capable. Just as important, he had to convince villagers that his tactics would be effective.
For someone village — bred, Gatus had plenty to contribute. He had survived years of fighting and had ideas of his own and no hesitations about putting them forth, especially those concerning weapons and training. He kept challenging Esk kar, looking for weaknesses or flaws that would doom Orak’s defense. When Gatus did fi nd a weakness, they worked out how to resolve it.
Nearly three hours later, Esk kar nodded in satisfaction. They had reached agreement on every item. Gatus had helped him specify his plans.
For the first time Esk kar felt confident he could answer any question at Nicar’s meeting, that no one could brush off either his ideas or his facts.
They might not share his beliefs, but that would be a matter for debate.
The two men rode down the hill to repeat Esk kar’s survey of the land.
This time they paid particular attention to the farmlands north and south of the village. Flooding these would change the usual approach to Orak’s main gate. When they finally finished their circuit, Gatus admitted Orak might have a chance, with luck, of surviving the invasion.
Esk kar wanted more than just Gatus’s approval. He wanted the old soldier waiting outside Nicar’s house, in case the nobles wanted a second opinion. Gatus had lived in Orak for more than five years, and most of them would respect his words.
“But we’ll need to train bowmen, three or four hundred of them at least,” Gatus said. “And assuming you can provide weapons for all of them, it’s still going to take at least two months to train a good archer.”
Esk kar didn’t understand why it took so long to teach someone how to use such a simple weapon, but he had to defer to Gatus’s experience with villagers. “Then we’d better get started at once, Gatus. You know how to train men better than anyone. They’ll do as you say.”
And they would do it faster for Gatus than for a barbarian. Esk kar might be captain of the guard, but he hadn’t proven himself to the men. They’d follow him for now, but for a real battle, where men had to trust their commander completely and be willing to risk their lives
… that needed a leader with a different kind of authority.
“And what of everything else that must be done? Are you sure you know what’s needed from Nicar and the nobles?”
“Yes. I went over all that with Trella. She thought of a dozen things I’d missed. She knows how to ask for what we’ll need. We just have to tell her. Then she can deal with the craftsmen. She knows the symbols, she can count, and she remembers what she hears. She comes from a noble family.
Her father taught her the ruling ways.”
“Ah, she’s one of those.”
“Those what?” He looked toward Gatus.
“One of the special ones. You’ve spent time in other villages, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Now stop talking in riddles. What about her?”
Gatus took his time before answering. “How many women in Orak know the symbols, or can count higher than ten?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “None, I suppose. All the clerks and scribes are men.”
“You don’t know the symbols; I don’t know them. But Nicar’s wife knows them.” Gatus saw the surprise on Esk kar’s face. “There are a few others, wives of the big traders and merchants. Who do you think runs their trading business when they’re away or sick? There are some women, you ignorant barbarian, who are trained for more than just bedding. If she’s one of those… tell me what else Trella said.”
Esk kar grimaced at the slur, but told him everything he’d learned.
“Then she was raised to be a wife to someone like Nicar or Drigo,”
Gatus mused, “a ruling noble.”
“What does that…”
“Listen to me. You were raised to fight, trained from childhood, taught how to use weapons, how to be strong.”
“Yes, that’s the barbarian way. You spend your whole life learning how to fight, how to…”
“Trella was raised to help rule. She probably spent her whole life at her father’s feet, watching the rulers of her village, learning how to read men’s faces, listening to what they say, judging when they lie. Trella’s what, fourteen seasons? She may have spent every day for the last five years watching her village’s nobles, learning the mysteries of gold and bronze, the secret symbols, studying the ways of farmer and villager. If her wits are as sharp as you say…”
“They are,” Esk kar said, trying to grasp this new concept. It had never occurred to him that the nobles in Orak might have trained to learn their ruling ways. As he’d been trained to fight, Trella learned to use her wits, to study men and their ways. Their talk this morning
… he realized that Trella had guided him through the preparations for tomorrow’s meeting with more than just her knowledge of Nicar’s house. If she knew the secret ways of the nobles, could read men’s thoughts, then she might be worth even more than he’d thought.
“Not used to dealing with women who have their wits about them, are you?”
Esk kar closed his mouth and frowned at Gatus. “No. I didn’t know such women existed.”
“Well, think about what that means, Esk kar, before you have her fetch-ing water from the well and washing your feet. Nicar may have given you a bigger prize than you know.”
“At fi rst I thought she was just for remembering things… helping out.
After last night’s bedding and our talk this morning…”
“She’s bewitched you already. I saw the way you look at her.” Gatus laughed at the memory. “But will the nobles listen to a slave girl?”
“When the time comes, I’ll make sure they do, Gatus. And she’ll speak in my name. If the nobles refuse or give us trouble, we’ll leave Orak. I won’t argue with Drigo or any of them. That’s what I told Nicar yesterday, and that’s what I’ll say at tomorrow’s meeting. That’s why you’ll be there, in case they want to hear your thoughts.
”
“My thoughts are that you’re going to get us both killed, Esk kar.”
Esk kar laughed. “Perhaps. But don’t tell them that. Besides, we’ve time to get out, if things start going badly. And enough men to follow us, if it comes to that. So we’ll just have to see what happens.”
“Time will tell, then,” Gatus said, putting his heels to the horse.
They cantered through the gate before slowing to a walk. Gatus was right. The next few days would decide all. But Esk kar had persuaded the old soldier, a difficult enough task, and now Gatus would stay as long as he believed they could endure. Winning over Gatus would help persuade the soldiers, too. A good day’s work, Esk kar decided. He just needed to do the same at Nicar’s meeting tomorrow.
Carrying her purchases, Trella returned to Esk kar’s room. She sat at the table, enjoying a rare moment of privacy. The events of last night and this morning threatened to overwhelm her.
Sunlight streamed in through the open door, illuminating her new home. Only a few months ago, the stark surroundings would have seemed bleak and wretched, even worse than the tiny, unventilated nook she’d shared with two other girls at Nicar’s house. Now everything within these walls was her responsibility. She had become mistress of Esk kar’s house, if you could call a single room attached to the soldiers’ barracks a house.
Her new duties might be limited, but at least she didn’t have Creta or more senior servants ordering her around. And she’d avoided the distaste-ful fate of having to pleasure first Nicar and then his son and the other servants. She could have accepted being Nicar’s occasional bedmate. He was, after all, the kind of man her father planned for his daughter, though she’d hoped for one closer to her own age. No, Nicar wouldn’t have been a problem. She knew she could have pleased him enough to earn further responsibilities. The troubles in Nicar’s household came from Creta and Nicar’s youngest son, Caldor.
The servants had described their degrading experiences with Caldor, and even now Trella couldn’t repress a shudder. She’d seen him enjoying one of the other slaves, a girl even younger than Trella and barely into the secrets of womanhood. He’d taken her from behind, positioning her on her knees with her head and shoulders on the floor. The poor girl couldn’t stop crying and her sobs echoed throughout the house. But a slave’s tears meant nothing, not even to the other servants. Caldor had prolonged the act, no doubt reveling in the girl’s humiliation as much as her body, while ignoring all those who walked by his room.
Trella wondered what she would have done when Caldor had finally sent for her, told her to remove her dress, and display herself. She shook her head in anger. Like the other girl, Trella would have obeyed, and later cried herself to sleep, comforted by the older women. Slaves did not resist their masters, no matter what they commanded, and pleasuring a master sexually was expected, as routine a task as washing his clothes or serving his food.
She pushed the dark thoughts away. Instead she recalled last night’s lovemaking, and that memory sent a wave of pleasure through her, a pleasant anticipation of tonight’s intimacy. No, whatever this new life brought would be a definite improvement, and she wouldn’t waste any time complaining about her surroundings. Not with so much to do.
A slave’s duty was to please her master, she reminded herself. She’d accomplished more than that last night and today. Esk kar had unburdened himself, confided in her. He’d also offered her a compliment without realizing it. He’d treated her differently, almost as an equal, something she hadn’t enjoyed since her enslavement. More than that, Esk kar respected her ideas. Uneducated he might be, but he knew the truth when he heard it, no matter who spoke it. So that would be her role from now on. Advisor by day, lover by night.
Last night she’d been a frightened virgin and unsure of herself. Tonight would be different, and she’d start learning how to satisfy Esk kar’s desires, how to keep him aroused and hungry for her body. Her mother had warned her about men and their needs, about how they could lose interest in a woman after a few bouts in bed. Fortunately, her mother had instructed her in the mysteries of the love act. With what she had learned, and what she would soon discover, Trella would keep Esk kar close to her.
Nevertheless, she felt her secret places grow warm at the thought of having him inside her tonight. She might be a slave, but she’d become a woman. She determined to make him desire her, to make herself the most important thing in his life.
But right now Trella needed to pay attention to her other duties. She stood and looked around the room, wondering where to start. Esk kar hadn’t given her any commands. He likely wouldn’t have minded if she sat around all day combing her hair and waiting for his return. The chamber was dirty and unkempt, though she doubted Esk kar or the previous owner noticed such things. That meant work to be done. Trella didn’t plan to live in filth.
She went to the door. Adad glanced up, then smiled. For a moment he reminded her of her brother.
“Adad, I’d like you to get me some things.” She found herself speaking in what her father called her “serious voice,” the tone she used when she wanted something.
“What do you need?”
“A broom, a bucket, and some rags. Then I want you to go and buy some mats, plain ones, three, no, four of them, at least this big.” She held her arms wide apart. “Tell the merchant who they’re for, and that I’ll pay him later. Can you do that for me?”
“I’m not supposed to leave you alone. Esk kar told me…”
“I know what he told you. I promise I’ll stay inside until you return.”
He hesitated, then gave in, aware that Esk kar wouldn’t return for some time. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He leaned his spear against the doorway and walked off.
Trella smiled. The soldier obeyed her almost as quickly as if Esk kar had given the command. She went back inside, looked at the bed, and decided she might as well start there.
She dragged the heavy frame away from the wall, revealing a mix of trash and debris accumulated beneath it. A fat brown spider scuttled through the pile, unaccustomed to the light. She frowned at the sight of it. It looked large enough to give a nasty bite. A layer of clean sand might once have covered the dirt floor, but over time the topping had vanished.
What remained looked more like soil from the fields.
Adad returned, carrying a broom in one hand and an empty bucket in the other. “I’ll go get the mats.” He moved off at a trot, anxious about leaving her alone.
Trella took the broom and started sweeping the debris toward the door.
As soon as she finished sweeping and smoothing under the bed, she shoved the heavy pallet back into the corner, grunting with the effort. Then she started on the rest of the floor.
She worked steadily, most of the time on her knees, using her hands to scoop and move whatever objects she encountered, tossing all the pebbles and refuse into the bucket. She used her fingers to strain the mix of sand and dirt, and squashed the occasional insect with the heel of her hand.
By the time Adad returned, she’d cleaned the room. Together they moved the table, then set the mats down, one near the bed, one just inside the entrance, and the other two under the table and its rickety benches.
Smoothing the dirt, she made sure the mats lay flat, with no lumps underneath.
Finished at last, Trella examined the room. It looked as clean as she could make it on such short notice, and at least tonight there would be no scraps of food or bits of bone to attract bugs or mice. On her next visit to the market, a copper coin would purchase a cartload of clean sand, enough to re — cover the dirt.
If this were to be their home, she’d have the inner walls recoated with fresh mud, then smoothed and whitewashed. That might get rid of the stale odors that lingered within. That reminded her of the mattress. Only the gods knew when it had last been changed. She’d have that refilled with fresh straw, too.
She looked down at herself and laughed. Covered with dust and grime, she
thought half the dirt from the floor now covered her body. She needed a bath. Taking her cloak, she tossed it over her arm, then gathered up the garments purchased earlier and the greasy rag she’d used at the fi re. Bundling them together, she set out toward the river. Adad fell in behind her and had to stretch his legs to keep up with her rapid pace.
Trella enjoyed her newfound freedom. The guard actually made things easier, since she could now go wherever she chose and feel perfectly safe.
She knew the way to the river, and it didn’t take long to reach Orak’s rear gate. They passed through and headed to the left, moving quickly through the crowd. Trella kept a step ahead of Adad, and this time no one noticed her. They passed the jetties where men worked the boats, and soon reached the start of the women’s area, fringed by a few willow trees that lined the riverbank.
“Wait here, Adad. I need to wash Esk kar’s clothes and bathe myself.
Please hold my cloak.”
Adad looked uncomfortable, but complied. By custom, men did not venture too close to the women’s bathing place, though often enough boys or men took their time passing by, laughing and staring at the women.
Trella went to the riverbank, then climbed down to the rocky bank. This late in the day only three people labored there, washing clothes. An elderly matron and her granddaughter seemed to spend more time splashing than cleaning. The remaining woman looked only a few years older than Trella.
A glance back toward Adad showed him standing where she’d left him, about fifty paces away. She took a few steps into the river and ducked beneath the cool water, letting it flow over her entire body. When she came up for air, she turned her back to the bank and pulled her dress up over her head, then held it under the water and rubbed it vigorously.
She cleaned herself, rubbing the cold water all over her body. She finished up by ducking her hair several times, then retrieved her dress, pulling the wet garment over her head and wriggling it down around her body.
Gathering the other garments, she washed them as well. As she finished, the other girl came over to her, moving slowly through the water, her dress bunched up around her waist.