by Sam Barone
She touched his cheek. “And then, after we made love together, I felt… different, and now I want only to be your woman. I will have no life but with you, Esk kar. If we fail, then we’ll both die here and nothing will matter. If we win, then Caldor is of no importance.”
Esk kar’s hand tightened at Caldor’s name.
“You cannot kill him, Esk kar, much as I would wish you to. If you kill another one of the Families’ sons, they’ll never forgive you.” She twisted in his arms so that her cheek pressed against his. “You must listen to me.
More is at stake here than just the barbarians. If we win, the victory may be as deadly for you as the barbarians. You’ll have to survive the Families, who will remember you were born a barbarian, remember Drigo’s death, remember those of their own families killed in battle, and remember how much of their gold you’ve spent.”
He started to speak, but she put her finger to his lips.
“Even the soldiers may try to take power from you, with the help of the merchants and the Families. When this is over, many people will be dead, many of them your friends, and you’ll have made new enemies. To hold power over them, there is much you must do, starting now.”
Her breath was against his cheek, and he wanted to hold her in his arms and forget about everything but her. Damn the gods, wasn’t it enough to fight the barbarians? Now he had to worry about a knife in the back and plan for the future at the same time-when he didn’t even know if he’d survive the coming battle.
Demons take them all to the fire! Better a hard fight than all this cursed planning and plotting. He could take Trella and leave Orak behind, trusting to his sword and the gold he’d already earned. Part of him still longed to live from day to day, without having to worry about the schemes of men.
He reached out to touch her hair. “Trella, we don’t have to stay here.
We can still leave anytime. There are other villages, other lands, and we’ve enough gold.” When she said nothing, he went on. “Isn’t that better than staying here and risking all, fighting the barbarians and whatever will come afterward?”
“You must choose for both of us. My choice is already made, and I will follow you as long as you want me.”
Esk kar had a flash of insight. Trella would accept a lesser existence as his woman, traveling the roads in search of a new life, if that were all he could offer.
He sighed. “We’ll stay, and we’ll fight. Now, tell me what I must do.”
“I’ve watched you closely, Esk kar, and I’ve learned much from you. But now it’s time to make new plans. The men are training well. The wall grows every day, and your commanders have settled into their roles. Watching you train, I see you’ve improved your strength and skills. Now we should show Orak a different captain of the guard.”
“And how will we do that, wife?”
“I think you should leave Orak for a while. I have thought much about this.” She sat up and poured more water into his glass.
“Which of your commanders is the most important to you right now?” she asked.
“Sisuthros is the most important. He has the quickest wits, and I’ve given him the most responsibility.”
“No, I think not. I say Bantor is the most important because he deals every day with a multitude of people, and he can speak for you to them.
Also, he’s slower of thought, and he knows that you’ve been patient with him, so he is the most loyal. But you’ll lose that loyalty if you don’t spend more time with him and make sure he gets the respect he deserves.”
“You may be right about his loyalty, although I would have chosen Gatus as the most loyal.”
“Gatus is a good man, and like an uncle to me, but now he merely trains the men, and there are many here who could do that. Think of Jalen, who wants only to fight and will be loyal to you if you let him gain his victories.”
Esk kar considered her words, seeing his men in a different light. “And Sisuthros? What of him?”
“Sisuthros is the most dangerous to you because he’s the one the Families will turn to when they want you removed. Already Corio and some of the others are more comfortable with him than you. And that is something we must change. Remember, he hasn’t killed any of them, nor does he travel about Orak with armed guards. And remember, too, that thoughts of Drigo’s fate are never far from their minds. Sisuthros has spoken to Caldor at least once that I know of. So when you leave, you should take Sisuthros with you.”
“How do you know so much about Sisuthros and Corio and their affairs?”
“For the last month, I’ve met each day with dozens of women, slaves as well as wives and daughters. I’ve given copper coins to those in need and befriended others. Because of you, there is respect for me, and now they come to me for advice or assistance or just to talk. Women are everywhere, and men like Caldor don’t even notice them. For those who bring me information, there’s a copper coin or whatever they need. Many of our servants have given me good information or have access to those who talk too much. These and others are helping me gather all the secrets men think their women don’t hear or are too stupid to understand. Between all of them, I hear many things, and soon there will be little that goes on in Orak that doesn’t come to my ears.”
Trella had been spending his gold, but he had more than enough for his needs. And she spoke the truth. Men did talk in front of women as if they were deaf and dumb. He’d done so himself numerous times. Well, he would talk carelessly no more, lest his own words come back to haunt him.
“And these… women… report all they hear to you?”
“Yes, they spy on their husbands and lovers. Most men talk too freely in their lovemaking, as well you know.”
Spy. A new word to deal with, and Esk kar thought about what it meant.
A gatherer of information, of secrets others did not wish you to know.
Such knowledge could certainly be useful. “And you’ll continue to get this information?”
“Yes, and more. But I’ll need much more of your gold, Esk kar.”
His twenty gold coins per month was about to vanish. He stroked her neck, thinking that his attitude toward gold had certainly changed in the last few months. Now it was just a means to an end. “Take what you need, Trella. What else must I hear before I can sleep?”
They spoke long into the night. When he disagreed or questioned her, he listened carefully to her reasons until there was agreement or at least understanding between them.
And so they whispered, watching the moon rise and fall, watching the lamp burn itself out, well into the morning hours, Trella challenging not only his thoughts but his very way of thinking. One thought, however, he kept to himself. When the time was right, young Caldor would die. That put a smile on his lips before they both drifted off into a deep and sound sleep.
The next morning Esk kar trained as usual with the latest batch of recruits. His natural fighting ability, enhanced by months of exercise and good food, now allowed him to teach as well as to train with the recruits.
Nevertheless he often received as good as he gave. For some of the new men, “recruit” meant only that they hadn’t been trained as Gatus wanted, not that they weren’t experienced fighters. So Esk kar observed different styles of swordplay and had already picked up several new techniques.
Today luck favored him. No new bruises pained his body. Tired and dirty, he joined the men as they washed up, before moving on to the next part of the training. Esk kar guided the recruits through the lanes, out the river gate, and to the archery range on the north side. The bow remained the most important part of the training in Esk kar’s mind-the only weapon that could give villagers a chance against the barbarians.
Esk kar and Gatus discussed this training often, and both were determined that by the time the barbarians arrived, every man would be an exceptional marksman. The soldiers needed not only to become proficient with the bow, but to master the shooting techniques Gatus developed specifically for use from the wall.
Soldiers made up most of the throng, but enough idle villagers, men and women alike, joined them, bringing a frown to Esk kar’s face. Villagers and soldiers should be at their assigned duties, not wasting time watching archery practice.
His anger grew as he pushed through the crowd, the recruits following him. The crowd roared as he reached the firing line, and Esk kar saw Totomes pointing downrange with his bow. Another roar went up. He watched Totomes’s son Mitrac draw his bow and launch a shaft at the farthest target.
The spectators voiced their approval with another cheer, even before the boy tending the targets signaled a hit to the center of the mark.
Esk kar stood there, as impressed as any, while Narquil loosed his arrow at the same mark. When the boy had finished shooting, Totomes and his sons moved back twenty paces and began again. The master bowman and his sons already stood well past the maximum range at which the most experienced archers practiced. Gatus, standing on the edge of the crowd, noticed Esk kar and joined him.
“Morning, Captain. You should’ve gotten here sooner. This Totomes and his boys have been putting on quite a show. They’ve hardly missed the mark at any range. Forno says he’s never seen anything like it.”
Forno, the senior archer among Esk kar’s men, had slain Naxos’s man.
Forno led the archery training for the recruits. “So they’re marksmen. But can they teach their skill to others?”
Gatus rubbed his beard as the crowd shouted approval at another hit.
“Forno thinks so. He’s already been given some tips by Totomes, who even let him draw his own bow, though only at close range.”
No archer ever wanted to break another man’s bow by trying to hit a distant mark. It said much for Forno that Totomes had allowed him to try his weapon. Another round of shafts were delivered, and again the crowd backed up another twenty paces. Totomes caught sight of Esk kar standing there and nodded.
By now the distance stretched over three hundred paces, and even the butts behind the targets looked small indeed. Despite the distance, Totomes’s arrows reached them easily enough, with only a slight arc. Forno walked over to join his captain and Gatus, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Marduk’s blood, but that man can use a bow better than anyone I’ve seen.” Forno turned and squinted at the marks. “And his boys are almost as good. Narquil shoots slower but is the most accurate, though Mitrac hits his marks nearly as often.”
“Can they help you train the men?” Esk kar asked.
“Captain, I think I’ll be helping them train in a few days,” Forno replied. “I’d like to see them shoot with our bows, but I’m sure Totomes has been training archers for twenty years.”
Totomes and his sons, as far away from the butts as possible, still arched arrows into the sky that almost always struck the targets. Esk kar made up his mind and turned to Gatus. “Let Totomes start by training this group of recruits. And Gatus, I’ll train with them.”
Gatus raised an eyebrow.
Up to now Esk kar had postponed any intensive training with the bow, concentrating mainly on his swordplay. This might be as good a time as any to begin.
Before long, Esk kar stood at the head of the recruits, bow in hand, quiver of arrows strapped to his waist, the targets a mere thirty paces away.
Totomes began his instructions. He put aside his weapon and demonstrated with one of the soldier’s bows. If anyone thought it strange that the captain of the guard should be standing rigid with the latest batch of recruits, no one said anything, as Totomes stood next to Esk kar and watched him notch an arrow, aim, and let fly.
“Again,” Totomes ordered, his eyes fixed on his pupil. Esk kar launched another, though the first shaft had hit the mark almost dead center. Totomes shook his head. “You’ll not hit a target of any distance like that, Captain.” He turned to his sons. “Show him.”
The two boys moved on opposite sides of Esk kar, grasping his elbows, adjusting his stance and shifting his weight more to his rear foot.
“You shoot too much on your front foot, Captain,” Totomes continued,
“so, as you draw the bow, you become unbalanced, and make unnecessary movements. And you bring the arrow up from the ground as you bend into the bow. Always raise the arrow skyward and bring it down as you put your shoulder into it. That way a shaft released too soon may strike a target in the rear rather than the ground in front of you.”
The two boys held Esk kar firmly, making him draw the bow slowly, keeping more weight on his rear foot and adjusting his right elbow. Esk kar held the drawn bow while they checked his stance and grip, taking plenty of time until they were satisfied. Esk kar’s left arm began to tremble before Totomes gave the order to loose. The shaft flew into the straw butt but missed the wooden target hanging in its center.
“It feels awkward at first, Captain, but you’ll get used to it. It’s different from the way the… the way you learned. Try again.” Totomes moved on to the next man, leaving Narquil to keep an eye on Esk kar.
And again and again, until Esk kar’s left arm felt weak as water and the fingers on his right hand swelled and burned from the friction of the bowstring. But his pride drove him, and he refused to show weakness in front of his men. Up and down the line, Totomes, Mitrac, Narquil, Forno, and even Gatus kept close watch on the recruits’ every movement, making sure they followed Totomes’s instructions exactly. By the time they finished, Esk kar felt as exhausted as any of the men and wasn’t even shooting as well as some.
“You’ll do better in a few days, Captain,” Totomes said with a friendly laugh as he walked with Esk kar back toward the barracks. “If you want accuracy, you’ll have to unlearn some of your bad habits, but you’ll do fine.
You have the eye for it. If you like, Mitrac can work with you privately if you feel uncomfortable with the others watching.”
A little late for that. He offered to train with this batch of bowmen, and now his honor had been challenged. He determined to do as well as any of them. “No, Totomes, though I thank you for the offer. I’ll stay with these men for a while.”
That meant an extra four hours per day with the bow for at least a week, in addition to his usual hours each morning training with the sword, spear, and battle — axe. But he couldn’t avoid it, not if he wanted to experience exactly how Totomes and Forno trained the men. Orak’s fate would rest in the arms of these bowmen.
It took ten days before he felt comfortable with the changes in his shooting style and before he could again plant his shaft within the mark with confidence. He’d long since admitted Totomes knew his craft. Esk kar led the recruits with the best scores until he realized some of the men would occasionally let a shaft or two fly wide to make sure their captain always scored higher. But by then he could hit a target at seventy paces three times out of four, and he felt more than satisfied with that.
A few days later they practiced from the main wall, looking out toward the low hills where their real enemy would appear. Now the soldiers fired as a group, aiming not at individual targets, but at a particular range. The targets had changed from the straw butts to stick figures planted in the earth at various distances. The men drew, aimed, and loosed their arrows together on command, learning how to gauge the distance and walk their shafts in from the farthest mark to the closest.
The fi rst day on the wall Esk kar noticed something unusual. The men were always laughing, raising coarse jests, or doing all of the usual things soldiers and recruits did to take their minds off their own discomfort and to pass the time during training. But the first time they stood on the wall, the laughter stopped of its own accord. Taking their places, exposed from the waist up, they realized that a deadly business would soon be at hand.
So they listened to the instructor’s words a little more attentively, and took a little extra care in their work.
At the end of the first session, Totomes took Esk kar aside. “
You’re finished with your training, Captain,” he said. “You’re as good as you’ll ever be. But you’ll never make a master archer. You’re too old for that. Leave the training now before too many of the others pass you by. You’ve proven your skill to your men. There are other, more important tasks for you.”
13
Esk kar rode out of Orak six days later, taking Sisuthros, nine riders, two boys, and one pack horse with him. They traveled south at a steady pace. Jalen had explored north to get information about the barbarians’ main camp. Esk kar wanted to observe the far — ranging Alur Meriki war parties reported to the south.
The men were fit, hard, and ready to fight. Six were hard — bitten veterans. Recent recruits made up the remainder, men who’d proven both their fighting ability and horsemanship. When you went to war against the barbarians, skill with a horse was as important as fighting.
Mitrac excepted. Totomes’s youngest son had only limited experience with horses. Nevertheless Mitrac practiced hard for the last week under Jalen’s tutelage. Once Esk kar saw Totomes’s expertise, Esk kar wanted someone with him who could draw one of the great weapons.
Even so it had occasioned a four — sided argument between Esk kar, Totomes, and his sons before the father consented, worried he might lose Mitrac on some minor raid. Totomes gave in only when Esk kar promised to look after the boy personally.
Each day they rode south, resting the horses often. Esk kar spent time with Sisuthros, Mitrac, and the rest, talking to them, asking their advice, or just joining them in rough song. Get close to your men, from the lowest recruit to your commanders, Trella advised. First make them respect you, then let them know you. That’s how you build loyalty.
Her words matched what he’d seen in Corio and Nicar. Esk kar didn’t know where Trella had learned so much about leading men, but her ideas made sense. He’d only to recall all the mistakes of his previous commanders or even his own to see the wisdom in what she said. So he began in earnest to build respect, then loyalty, in his men.