by Sam Barone
“I’ve always wanted to train a large group of men to fight as one,” Gatus said. “Now I’ll have my chance.”
The old soldier had many strange ideas about how to train men, and nothing gave him more pleasure than sweating recruits into shape.
“They’ll surround us and rush the village from all sides,” Jalen insisted.
“Even bowmen cannot stop that kind of attack.”
“Not so fast, Jalen.” Esk kar gave a short laugh. “We’ll make sure they can come at us in force from only one direction, against our strongest point. We’ll wait behind our wall, wait until they run out of food, wait until they must move on. We don’t have to defeat them or drive them off.
We just have to make them grow tired of attacking us. I know we can do that.”
Esk kar rapped his cup on the table. “And every time they attack our wall, we’ll slaughter them. We’ll force them from their horses and kill them with arrows.” He saw the skepticism in their faces. They’d seen action against barbarians at one time or another. They knew how tough they were.
“You know once a man is off his horse,” Esk kar went on, “he’s easy to kill, and barbarians are even easier. From childhood, they fight from their horses. Their swords and lances are meant to strike from the horse, their bows to fire while racing at the enemy. Once dismounted, they’ll be poor fighters and easy targets for archers standing behind a wall.”
“The barbarians are archers, too, Esk kar.” Sisuthros had encountered the barbarians before and still carried the scar. “They can shoot our men off the walls just as easily.”
“Perhaps not as easily as you think, Sisuthros, but I’m glad all of you are thinking of these things. Barbarians use short, curved bows. We’ll use hunting bows, longer and more powerful, with a heavier arrow. We’ll start killing them before they can get into range, and the wall will protect our men from their arrows.”
“You really think a wall can stop them, Captain?” Sisuthros asked.
“Yes. They’ve never faced one before, a wall full of well — armed and well — trained men.”
Gatus pulled at his beard. “Can a wall strong enough and high enough be built in time? I mean, how high must it be?”
Esk kar shrugged. “Now you’re ahead of me. That’s one of the things I need to find out, and it will take several days of working with the artisans and builders. That’s why none of them can be allowed to leave.”
He looked at each of them in turn. “The hardest part of this battle against the barbarians is going to happen in the next few hours,” he said, glancing at the window. He didn’t have much time.
“If the Five Families accept our plan, the village can be held. That’s why it’s important that you all be in the market and that you follow my lead. Nicar and I will sway the Five Families. You must help us convince the crowd.”
“You’re asking us to risk our lives, Esk kar, as well as our families,”
Sisuthros said. “If we stay and fight… if we fail…”
“Nicar and I will risk as much. Or would you rather take your families and start roaming the countryside, looking for a safe place to live? When we drive the barbarians off, your places here will be secure. Besides, I’ve doubled your pay. That should stiffen your backbones. When the barbarians are driven off, you’ll each receive twenty gold coins, plus a double share of any loot taken from the barbarians.”
The mention of gold had the desired effect.
“But that’s not enough to keep men fighting. I’ve fought them many times, and even when I’ve killed them, I’ve always had to give ground. I’m tired of giving way to them, and I’m tired of being told what great fighters they are. It’s time to make them afraid of us.”
Esk kar’s words hung in the air for a long moment before Jalen spoke up. “I have not spoken to anyone of this, but seven years ago, barbarians overran my village, murdered my father, and took my mother and sister as slaves. I’ve killed many of them since, and I want only the opportunity to kill more. I’ll follow your orders, Esk kar, as long as you stand and fight them. I’m not afraid of them, even on their horses.”
Esk kar nodded, understanding the man’s pain. The village held many more like him. And now he knew why Jalen had often looked at him with anger in his eyes, seeing only a man from a barbarian clan, not the soldier Esk kar had become.
“We’re all fi ghting men, and our fi ght against the barbarians begins today. The first step will be to stop Drigo from taking control of Orak. Even with Nicar’s backing, I expect we’ll see some blood spilled before dark.
What I’m asking won’t be easy. It will likely be the most danger you’ve ever faced. But if we win, the rewards will be great. So I ask you: will you follow me down this road, to win gold for ourselves and to save Orak? Or must I look to other men to join me?”
One by one, they looked at each other, and slowly nodded assent.
Esk kar smiled in satisfaction. He’d gotten them this far. Now he’d fi nd out just how much they were willing to risk. He glanced up at the sun.
“Good. Now there’s one more thing we have to plan, and cursed little time to do it.”
The crowds thronged the narrow lanes. Esk kar had never seen so many in the marketplace. Every man wanted to stop and question him as he pushed through on the way to Nicar’s house. Gatus, Sisuthros, Adad, and two others accompanied Esk kar. Dressed in his new tunic and sandals, Esk kar moved confidently, taking long, purposeful strides that parted the crowd ahead of him. His short sword hung from his belt, freshly oiled to stay loose in its scabbard.
Behind him walked Trella, head properly downcast, wearing her new dress. The garment hadn’t been woven from the fancy cloth worn by rich merchants or wealthy farmers, but it fitted her new station and looked much better than the cast — off garment she’d worn as Nicar’s slave. Esk kar hadn’t thought to tell her what to buy or how much to spend, but it didn’t surprise him that she had sense enough to buy something practical.
Turning into the lane where Nicar lived, Esk kar found what he’d been told to expect. Almost twenty men lounged about, the hired bodyguards of the Families. Using the authority of their masters, they lorded it over both the villagers and the soldiers for at least as long as Esk kar had lived in Orak. When they saw him approach, most of them straightened up and a rough line formed across the lane, a dozen paces from Nicar’s gate. Most of those blocking the way wore Drigo’s emblem on their tunics.
Naxos, Noble Drigo’s chief bodyguard, had broad shoulders and a coarse red beard that failed to cover a poxed face and a missing tooth. He stood in the center of the lane, directly in Esk kar’s path.
“The meeting of the Five Families is closed to soldiers,” Naxos said in a loud voice, as Esk kar’s party approached, making sure everyone heard his authority. Naxos hooked his thumbs on the thick leather of his sword belt.
“I’ve been summoned by Nicar,” Esk kar answered reasonably, stopping about five paces from the line. “Am I forbidden to enter as well?”
Naxos, one of the few men in the village as tall as Esk kar, stared him in the eyes and took his time before replying. “You may enter,” he answered, still speaking in a forceful tone that carried the length of the lane, as if deciding the matter himself, “but the rest of your men must return to their shit — hole of a barracks. There’s no need for play soldiers here.”
So they wanted him alone. No doubt Drigo didn’t want too much bloodshed either. Then they’d jump him as he passed through their line.
Esk kar mentally thanked the man for his offensive words. Nothing could have provoked his men or stiffened their resolve more. They’d all been bullied and ridiculed by Naxos and the other guards. Esk kar looked at the men standing boldly beside Naxos, hands on their swords, smiles on their faces, confident in their authority. Esk kar could hear the crowd behind him begin to melt away.
“My men go where I tell them, Naxos,” Esk kar said firmly. “Stand aside and let us pass.”
Naxos’s laugh
boomed across the alleyway. “You’re a pig of a barbarian, Esk kar, and should have been taught a lesson long ago. I’ll have your head on a plate if your men aren’t on their way.”
The man standing next to Naxos, burly and young, drew his sword, eyes wide with excitement. “Let me kill him for you, Naxos,” he said eagerly.
Esk kar didn’t reply. Instead, he slowly raised his left hand above his shoulder, palm outward, as if to appease the man. But instead of saying anything, Esk kar simply pointed his finger at the troublemaker. There was a hiss in the air and a soft thud, and the man looked down to see a long arrow buried in the center of his chest.
No one moved as the dying man first gasped a long breath, then looked up, the sword slipping from his hand and falling to the ground. Then he was on his knees, pitching facedown into the dust. Nobody moved. All of Naxos’s men looked up, open — mouthed, at the rooftops along the alleyway where ten archers rose up, five on each side of the street. Jalen commanded them and they stood ready, bows drawn to the nock, targets selected, waiting for Esk kar’s next signal.
The rest of the bodyguards made no movement, their eyes locked on the archers, as Gatus shouted an order. Bantor and a half — dozen men, raced up to stand on either side of Esk kar and Gatus. They carried shields and drawn swords as they quickly fanned out in a line, facing Naxos and his men.
The bodyguards’ bravado had changed to fear in an instant, and now they were paralyzed with indecision. No one attempted to draw a weapon, and most took their hands off their hilts. A few, especially those serving the other nobles, stepped back a little, as if to distance themselves from Naxos and Drigo’s men.
Esk kar calmly drew his sword, but kept the tip pointing toward the ground as he crossed the five paces that separated him from Naxos. The man’s eyes stared up at the roof, looking at the three men aiming arrows at his chest. He didn’t even react when Esk kar raised the blade and held it against his stomach. Instead, Naxos looked down at the sword as if he’d never seen such a weapon before.
“All of you men,” Esk kar called out, “don’t move. Throw down your weapons. Anyone who draws a sword dies here in the dirt.” Nothing happened. The guards seemed rooted to the ground. Most of them still stared at the archers above them.
“Now!” Esk kar barked the command savagely. His voice broke the spell, and in a moment the dull sound of weapons striking the dirt was heard.
Esk kar looked into Naxos’s eyes and saw fear replace the shock of seeing the line of bowmen. Esk kar gave him no more time, either to speak or to act, thrusting the sword deep into the man’s belly. A grunt of pain and astonishment escaped from Naxos’s lips even as he tried to grasp the blade that pierced him. Viciously, Esk kar turned the blade, wrenching another groan from Naxos’s open mouth, then jerked it from his body.
Blood spurted everywhere, escaping through the man’s hands as he tried to cover the fatal wound, sagging to his knees as his legs gave way, then falling hard on his back, one leg under him, the other twitching in the dust. Naxos tried to speak, but couldn’t get the words out. Even before he died, Esk kar’s men had moved, closing to within striking distance of the guards.
Stooping down, Esk kar wiped his sword on the dying man’s tunic, ignoring his death sounds and twitches. Esk kar even changed hands and cleaned his right hand and arm, both spattered with the blood gushing from the man’s stomach. None of Naxos’s men moved or said a word.
Esk kar returned his blade to its scabbard. Turning his back on the cowed guards, Esk kar faced the frightened villagers who’d hung back behind him, hoping to see some excitement. They, too, stood rooted in place and stunned into silence.
“I do not like to be called a barbarian,” Esk kar said, his voice carrying down the lane. “Nor do my men like to hear their commander so addressed.”
He turned to Gatus. “Gather their weapons and keep them quiet.”
Trella had stopped a few paces behind Gatus and his men. Esk kar called her name, and she followed him as he pushed past the still — shocked bodyguards. They walked through the open gate and entered the spacious garden that separated Nicar’s house from the street.
The door stood slightly ajar and unattended, and they entered without knocking. Once inside, Esk kar realized that no one was aware of what had happened in the lane outside. The house servants, busy waiting on Nicar’s guests, had no time for events in the always noisy lane.
Trella held his arm for a moment, took a scrap of cloth from her pocket, moistened it in her mouth, and wiped a drop of blood from his cheek and another from his arm. She examined him carefully for any other blood traces. Her face looked pale and her hands shook a little, but her eyes showed no panic. He guessed she had never seen men die like that.
“Killing people is never pretty,” he kept his words low, so only she could hear. “If I hadn’t killed him, he’d have challenged my authority every day.” He touched her arm for a moment. “Can you still face what may come inside?”
She nodded.
They turned at the sound of footsteps to find Creta coming toward them.
“Good day, Esk kar,” she glanced at Trella, then stared more closely, noting her new dress. “Come this way, they’re waiting for you. You’re already late.”
“Good day, Creta,” Esk kar answered, nodding his head. “We’ll follow you.”
Creta stopped abruptly, and Esk kar spoke before she could protest.
“Nicar said I should use Trella to assist me, and I need her with me.” He kept his voice firm and hard.
Without a word, Creta turned and led them to the same room where he’d dined with Nicar. She knocked once, then opened the door. Esk kar and Trella moved past her, and she shut the door behind them.
Today the room looked different, set up for business rather than dinner. Gone were the soft chairs and cushions used for dining. Another table had been brought from somewhere and joined to the one Nicar and Esk kar had eaten from last evening, forming a large expanse of wood that nearly filled the room. The scent of wine hung in the air, noticeable even over the thick spray of jasmine in the far corner of the room, set there to mask the odors of so many men in such a confined space.
Ten men sat around the table: the leaders of the Five Families, each accompanied by an eldest son or a trusted advisor. Nicar sat at the head of the table, with Nobles Rebba and Decca to his right. The two cousins owned several shops and many of the boats that plied the river. Drigo and Nestor took the other side. Nestor owned most of the large farms surrounding the village.
One empty stool at the foot of the table remained and Esk kar crossed to it, and bowed low to the assembly. His doubts had vanished. The killings in the lane committed him fully, and he could not turn aside. He had to leave this room as captain of the guard. Otherwise he’d be lucky to get out of Orak with his skin intact. Drigo would certainly put a price on his head for killing Naxos. Esk kar realized he had one, although temporary, advantage-no one in the room knew what had happened outside, that their guards had been disarmed and now sat in the dirt under the soldiers’ control.
“Noble Nicar, I come at your request.” He looked at the other men, and noted the brief look of surprise on Drigo’s face. “Greetings to you all.”
Trella had stressed that he be polite at all times and keep his temper in check, no matter what provocation or disagreement might arise.
“Your slave does not belong here,” Drigo said, though the meeting was supposedly under Nicar’s control. “This is the meeting of the Five Families, and we follow our customs. Women and slaves are not permitted.”
Drigo had recovered quickly from his surprise. Strange, Esk kar thought, yesterday he would have been in awe of the noble’s authority. Now he was merely an obstacle to be overcome.
“Nobles, I’m a simple soldier. I have no training or memory to speak with you. My slave is here to remember what we discuss, so that I don’t forget anything of importance.”
“My father told you to send the slave away.” These
words came from Drigo the Younger. A few years ago, as a young bully, he had terrorized the weaker children with his fists. Now he’d reached manhood and considered himself a leader of men. Taller and broader than his father, he had nineteen seasons. Three men who had offended him died mysteriously, murdered in the night. At least two others had died by young Drigo’s own hand.
His words brought stern glances from the other leaders, and Esk kar guessed only the elders could speak freely.
“She stays with me,” Esk kar answered firmly. “Or I can go if you wish.”
The first test of wills, even as Trella had foretold. One of the leaders looked to Drigo, the other two glanced at Nicar. Esk kar stood there at ease, his hands relaxed at his sides. Trella remained two paces behind him, eyes down.
“And where would you go, Esk kar,” countered Drigo, ignoring his son’s comments. “Back to the barbarians from whence you came? Perhaps we should send you to them.”
“Today the wind blows in many directions, Noble Drigo,” Esk kar answered. “But I thought the Families wished to defend Orak. If that’s not true, merely say so, and I’ll leave you to your business. Fighting men can always find work in these troubled times.”
“You’re an impudent dog,” snarled Drigo the Younger. “I’ve a mind to have you thrown out into the street.”
This time the reaction came from Nicar. “Drigo, your son speaks out of turn. If he cannot restrain his tongue, perhaps it would be best if he left the room.” Nicar glanced around the table, and the others nodded their agreement.
“My son will keep silent,” Drigo responded, “but I will not. We don’t need this ‘soldier.’ We cannot resist the barbarians in any case.”
Several members of the Families began speaking, but Esk kar’s voice sounded clearly over theirs. “Nobles, if you don’t wish to fight, then your village will be destroyed. The barbarians will tear your houses down to the ground and burn everything they don’t toss into the river. Or you can resist them, drive them off, and save your village. The choice is yours, and you must make it today.”