Dawn of Empire es-1

by Sam Barone

  “I’m the leader of my clan. I cannot take orders from… others.”

  “Well enough,” Esk kar answered, sipping at the last of his ale. “Then in three days, you must leave. If you’re still here, I’ll take your bows and whatever else of value you have and have you driven from the village.”

  He stood up. Hykros did the same. “You can sleep here in safety, and they’ll not charge you too much now they’ve seen you drinking with me. Good day, Totomes.” Esk kar nodded to the two boys and started to walk out.

  Totomes rose also, “Captain, please stay. There’s still much I would discuss with you.”

  Esk kar turned and stared at the man until Totomes let his eyes drop.

  “You say you’re the leader of a clan, Totomes, but your clan is dead or far from here, and now you have only these boys following you. You say you wish to fight, but here in Orak we fight the barbarians my way or not at all.”

  Esk kar let that sink in, but continued before Totomes could reply. “If you wish to stay, then you pledge yourself to me until the barbarians are defeated and gone, or until we are all dead. You’ll obey me in all things, as does every other man who fights in my command, and you’ll draw the same pay. If you can use those bows as well as you claim, you’ll help train my archers, and that will keep you from carrying rocks or digging ditches, though you’ll do that, too, if need be. I’ve said all that needs to be said.

  Choose now.”

  Totomes stood there, pride struggling with his desire for vengeance.

  Narquil, who looked to be the older of the boys, spoke to Totomes in his own language. They exchanged words, and even the younger boy had his say. Totomes turned back to him.

  “I accept your offer, Captain. Will you please sit down,” he asked.

  “There’s much we would like to know.”

  Esk kar bowed formally, sealing the bargain, and returned to his seat.

  The serving girl, who had stood there listening to every word, rushed back with more ale, and poured another round. “Then I’m glad to have you join our forces, Totomes, and there is much…”

  The door flew open with a crash that startled patrons and customers alike. Everyone’s hand reached for knife or sword, the bright sun illuminating the same messenger who’d summoned Esk kar earlier. “Captain!..

  Bantor says come to the gate at once!” He gasped a moment to catch his breath. “Riders are coming. He thinks it may be Jalen!”

  Esk kar bolted upright, bumping his head on the low ceiling, and started toward the door before he remembered his new recruits. “Hykros, take Totomes and his sons to Gatus. Tell him we have new instructors for the archers, then bring them to my house.”

  Esk kar ducked under the doorway and began to run, the messenger leading the way back to the gate As Esk kar reached the gate, Bantor descended the last steps of the wooden ladder that provided access to the top of the wall, a big smile on his face that grew even larger when he saw his captain.

  “Is it Jalen?” Esk kar couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.

  “I think so. It looks like his horse, at least.”

  Walking with Bantor to the gate, he looked down the road and saw a small group of horsemen riding slowly toward them. He counted four men, only two less than had departed, and when they drew closer, he noted that the youthful servant had survived, though two fighting men obviously had not. Esk kar stood at the side of the old wooden gate as a group of villagers rushed through. A hand took his, and he looked down to see Trella had joined him.

  “How did you hear so quickly?” he asked, putting his arm around her, enjoying her touch. He looked behind him to make sure her guard was present, since his own had been left with the visitors. A few of Drigo’s men remained, though most had left weeks ago. While the danger from Drigo’s followers had lessened, the number of villagers who had no kind thoughts for Orak’s war leader and his hard discipline had increased.

  “Bantor wasn’t sure where you’d gone, so he sent a messenger back to the house. The boy told us about the three archers that you turned your back on and invited to go drinking after they threatened to kill you.”

  Esk kar laughed. “It wasn’t like that, Trella. They’re interesting folk, though.”

  “No, I’m sure it wasn’t,” she answered, tightening her grip on his hand.

  “But I’d like to meet them.”

  “You will, tonight. We’ve just enough room in the small house for three more, I think.”

  Conversation ceased as Jalen trotted through the gate in a swirl of dust to the cheers and shouts of the crowd. He swung down from his horse, stiff from his long ride. Esk kar found himself hugging his lieutenant, pounding him on the back, while the villagers called out Jalen’s name.

  “Gods below, Jalen, I’d given you up for dead days ago! Now you ride in as easy as can be. Come back to my house. We can talk there.”

  “By the gods, it’s good to be back.” Jalen glanced up at the wall, his mouth agape at the sight. “And much has changed since I left.” He stepped back to his horse and untied a leather pouch from his blanket, then followed Esk kar and Trella as they headed home. Halfway there they found Nicar waiting for them in the street. He invited them all to his house, saying the other nobles would be coming there as well.

  Moments later Nicar’s guests filled his meeting room to capacity, with every seat and stool occupied. A dozen others stood wherever they could find space. All waited for Jalen.

  He’d stopped to wash up, though Esk kar knew it would take more than a few moments at the well to remove the smell of horseflesh from body and clothes. The room already felt warm from the presence of so many bodies.

  Once again Esk kar sat at the foot of the table with Trella near his side. Gatus, Sisuthros, and Bantor stood behind their captain. When Jalen entered, damp from his washing, he wore one of Nicar’s old tunics, a garment too large for his frame. Jalen sat down in the last open seat, next to his captain, and drank from the wine cup already poured in front of him.

  “Noble Nicar, I thank you for your wine and the loan of your tunic.

  Mine is not worth saving, I’m afraid.”

  “Whatever you want, you have only to ask,” Nicar answered. “But come, we’re eager for news. Did you find the barbarians?”

  The smile disappeared from Jalen’s face. “Yes, I found them, and there’s much to tell.” He reached for the leather pouch he’d entrusted to his captain. Jalen removed the cloth map and spread it out on the table. Torn at the edges and dirty from much handling, it had obviously served its purpose well. Esk kar saw many new threads sewn onto it.

  All heads craned toward the cloth as if its secrets would be clearly visible. Looks of concern replaced the smiles as they wondered what news they would hear. Jalen put down his wine and began his tale.

  “Before we’d gone five days, we began to hear word about the Alur Meriki. As we went farther north, we met people moving west, and we learned of raiding parties that ranged far to the northeast. To avoid those, we traveled closer to the river, and there was little activity for another week until we began to encounter many folk moving south trying to stay ahead of the main party. Many of these people knew of Orak and were heading here. Have any arrived?”

  “Yes, more and more are on the roads, all coming here,” Esk kar replied.

  “Some stay, if they’re willing to fight or work. Others camp outside and move on in a few days.”

  Jalen nodded. “More will come. We continued to ride north for another week and began to see small scouting parties, five or ten barbarians. We ran south each time they saw us. Once they chased us for a full day before we lost them. Thank the gods for our strong horses. Each time, we circled back north again and moved farther away from the river.”

  Esk kar leaned forward, his eyes hard. “You saw no big raiding parties, only scouts?” They should have encountered at least one large band of warriors.

  “Yes, only scouts. We couldn’t continue north, so we moved east.
We talked to many travelers and even some bandits. The farther east we went, the clearer things became.”

  Jalen drank again from his cup. Every eye rested upon him. “The barbarians have a plan. The main body of the tribe, with at least seven or eight hundred warriors, is coming slowly toward us, more or less following the river. Two large raiding bands are ranging far to the south and east of the main body, killing everyone in their path or forcing them to head west.” He put his finger on the map, and everyone stood or left his seat to get a closer look, the nobles jostling each other, dignity forgotten.

  Jalen pointed at some red threads. “Here is where the main camp is, or was about two weeks ago. They travel slowly and stay close to the river.

  The raiding parties range eastward, sweeping everyone toward the river.”

  Again Jalen pointed to the map, indicating two curved seams of black threads that hooked far to the southeast. “They ride great distances, but always to the east and south, though sometimes they send captives and loot back to the main camp. They do that every week or so, and perhaps they exchange men as well, so all can share in the looting.”

  Esk kar stared at the map, as did the others, but already he could understand the strategy. He sat there, lost in thought, until Nicar’s words interrupted him.

  “Well, Esk kar, what do you make of it? It seems they may pass us by if they are raiding so far to the east. When the river bends, the main party may continue eastward. That’s the path they traveled the last time they passed through these parts.”

  Esk kar glanced at Jalen and saw that his subcommander understood all too clearly what the barbarians had in mind. Esk kar leaned over the map, tracing on it with his finger.

  “The main body follows the river Tigris, and right now that group is traveling almost due east. When the river bends, they’ll continue to follow it and will be moving southeast. When the river straightens, they’ll be heading almost due south, and we’ll be right in their path. By then these raiding parties will be ranging far to the southeast of Orak, and they’ll start to move toward us as well, first driving west, then north. They’ll approach Orak from the south, following the river and driving anyone seeking to escape from Orak back toward us.” He looked up at the men and saw them all listening intently to him, mouths open, as they tried to grasp his meaning.

  “This time the barbarians are not just passing nearby, and we’re not just another village near their path. This time they make straight for Orak.

  We’re their main destination. They herd everyone toward us, knowing that the crowds of escaping farmers and villagers will overwhelm us with their numbers even as they concentrate all their goods and livestock here. They expect to pluck a rich prize before they move on.”

  Esk kar’s words silenced everyone for a moment before Nicar spoke.

  “How sure can you be of this, Esk kar? They could still turn east and not head directly here.”

  Nicar’s question rang of desperation. They heard the words, but not what they meant. “Tell them, Jalen. Tell them what you think.”

  “I think it’s as Esk kar says,” Jalen said. “They’re coming here. Otherwise the main band would have turned east weeks ago. That’s why they’re moving so slowly. They want people to get word of their approach and to come here, thinking themselves safe, until they have nowhere to go. The village will be overwhelmed with people from the countryside. The barbarians know there’s no easy ford of the Tigris for forty miles on either side of Orak.”

  That put another thought into Esk kar’s head. Pulling the map toward him for a moment, Esk kar glanced at it and grunted, then shoved it back toward the center of the table. “Yes, and eventually they’ll send a band of warriors across the river to make sure nobody crosses over, even from the ford here. That will keep us penned up. They won’t care whether Orak resists or not. We’ll have nowhere to run.”

  For a long moment no one uttered a sound, each man deep in his own dark thoughts of the future.

  Caldor, the younger son of Nicar, broke the silence. “You speak of ignorant barbarians having a strategy just because they wander along the river! They may just as soon head back the way they came as come here.”

  Nicar whirled toward his son, his voice hot with anger. “You are not to speak at this table unless asked to. If you’re unable to obey, leave.” The words chilled the room. Everyone remembered the brash words of another youth killed in this very room. Caldor flushed red at the rebuke and sat back in his chair, looking away from the group. Everyone turned to Esk kar, expecting an outburst of some kind.

  Esk kar heard Trella’s stool scrape softly on the floor behind him, a reminder she was close by. He didn’t answer Caldor directly, responding as if Nicar himself had asked it.

  “If any here think the Alur Meriki leaders, who’ve led their clan through hundreds of battles and thousands of camps, are not capable of planning their route with care and forethought, you are mistaken. If you think that it takes no wits to rule three or four thousand people, organize hunting and food gathering, repair your own wagons, smelt your own ores, forge your own bronze, make your own tools, and raise your own livestock, all while moving hundreds of miles, then you’re even more mistaken. If we make mistakes of that kind, we’re as good as dead or captured.”

  No one said anything in answer, and they avoided looking at Caldor.

  “Jalen,” Esk kar said, breaking the silence. “Did you get any idea of how big the tribe is? How many men, wagons, horses?”

  Jalen clutched the empty cup, no doubt wishing for more wine but too nervous to ask for any. “The great clan has grown. There must have been a joining in the last few years. They say the tribe numbers more than five thousand, not counting slaves.”

  Esk kar thought that over as gasps of amazement went around the table. Five thousand was an incredible number of people, more than twice the number of people in Orak. But Esk kar knew it wasn’t the number of clansmen that counted, only the number of warriors they could hurl against the wall. Everyone started talking at once, but Esk kar rapped his cup on the table.

  “Five thousand is a great number of people, but only about one in five will be a warrior. The rest are old men, women, and children. At most, there will be fifteen hundred warriors, probably less, maybe only around twelve hundred. It’s a great number of warriors, but we’ll have over three hundred defenders. It will be more difficult, but still possible.”

  “When we agreed to defend Orak,” Nestor said, his voice tense with anxiety as he leaned across the table, “we spoke of possibly six or seven hundred barbarians. Now we speak of twice that number, and you say it’s still possible? Are we mad to think we can stop that many barbarians?”

  “The wall can stop them.” Corio’s words made everyone turn toward him. “It will be high enough and strong enough. I’ve seen Esk kar’s men in their training, firing arrows into targets at a hundred paces, seven and eight shafts each minute. I’ve watched, and I believe what I’ve seen.”

  “You’re committed to building the wall,” Rebba countered. “You’re being swayed by your own work. No matter how strong the wall, there won’t be enough men to defend it.”

  “It’s true I believe in the wall,” Corio admitted. “But if we can get additional men, then it can be done, I’m sure of it.”

  “And where are you to get these additional men?” Nestor shouted, putting his fist hard on the table. He turned to Esk kar. “Your plans to recruit and train are already stretched thin. There are fewer men willing to fight each day. Isn’t that so, Captain?”

  Another silence fell over the table as all eyes turned back toward Eskkar. He saw the fear in their faces, and found he had no words. If the barbarians hurled everyone at the wall in one rush, he didn’t know for certain they could be stopped. Everyone waited for his answer.

  The sound of Trella’s stool being scraped along the plank floor made every eye turn toward her, including Esk kar’s. “Pardon me, Nobles, for speaking out, but are not the barbarians sendin
g you all the men you desire?” She kept her head bowed as she spoke, properly submissive, her words just reaching their ears.

  “By the gods, Trella, you’re right. The more fool I for not seeing it,”

  Esk kar’s confidence returned, and he looked first at Trella, then at Jalen, who nodded his head in agreement. “We’ll have more men than we know what to do with. And many of them will be fighting men at that, driven here from all the smaller villages to the south and the east, looking for a chance to strike back. We’ll easily add another hundred or more men, and many will know how to swing a sword.”

  He grasped Trella’s arm in excitement. “We can do it! We don’t have to match the barbarians in numbers. One man behind the wall will be worth four or fi ve below it. We’ll have to plan on more people inside the village, but it can still be done.”

  “Then you think Orak can be held? Enough men will be found?” The excitement in Nicar’s voice betrayed his emotions.

  Esk kar turned back toward the table, the smile that Trella’s words had brought still on his face. “Yes, Nobles, I’m sure we can. With another hundred fi ghting men, we should…” He stopped and turned back toward his slave. “Is there anything else we should be wary of, Trella?”

  She lifted her eyes for a moment. “I should not speak at your gathering.”

  “Speak up, Trella,” Corio snapped, “and forget those customs. If you have anything to say, just say it and let us decide if it’s worthy.”

  Nevertheless Trella kept her voice humble. “Nobles, it seems to me that you will soon be facing the problem of what to do with so many people. If hundreds more farmers and villagers flock to Orak from the south and east, they’ll overwhelm the village, even as you work to defend it. Already there are many strangers in the streets. I fear they interrupt the work or cause other problems. Perhaps you should consider closing the gates to all except those who will fight and their families, and send the rest across the river.”