by Sam Barone
Esk kar saw Subutai thinking it over, the same way Esk kar had when Trella proposed it. The havoc caused by the Alur Meriki had created many bands of homeless men. By absorbing them, one band at a time, perhaps a new tribe could be built in months rather than in years.
“We would still need women as wives for our men, Lady Trella. These will not be so easy to find, and without them the true Ur Nammu will diminish.”
“My husband has told you of a way to obtain many women by taking them from the Alur Meriki at the height of their attack on us. They’ll be distracted and you can capture as many as you like.”
“Even if the Alur Meriki are defeated before your walls, they’ll give chase to anyone who raids their women.” Subutai spoke confidently.
Doubtless he’d given much thought to such a raid. His father might have been willing to chance it, to bring death and shame to the Alur Meriki, but not Subutai. “If we were burdened with captives, Lady Trella, they would quickly catch up with us, and we would be destroyed.”
Esk kar spoke up. “Subutai, much can be accomplished if the plan is good. We’ve seen how easily the Alur Meriki can be beaten when everything is thought out in advance. Now you have many horses, more than you will need, maybe even more than you can easily drive back to the mountains. The raiding party could capture the women and throw them on horses. If the raid were planned carefully, you would have thongs ready to bind the women to the horses, and torches prepared to burn as much of their camp as possible. If your men did not waste any time or strength in fighting, you could be gone in a few moments. Then the horses could be run until they were exhausted. Change to a relay of new mounts, kill or scatter the old ones, and the Alur Meriki would be chasing you on tired animals. Kill a second string of horses and they’d be left far behind, in danger of being cut off from the main body of the tribe.
They would have to turn back. Any few that went on could be easily trapped and killed.”
Some men would never give up the chase, those whose wives or daughters were important to them. But most would turn back when they saw no quick opportunity of either revenge or loot. There would be plenty of widows in the main camp after the battle at Orak. Those would be easier to obtain than chasing a small band of determined Ur Nammu far into the distant north.
“A raid planned so carefully would have little risk and much chance of success,” Trella offered. “And a wise leader would treat these new women as wives, not slaves. If they were treated better than they were with the Alur Meriki, they’d soon dry their tears and look with admiration on their new husbands.”
She turned to the women. “For your clan to survive, you would have to accept these new captives as equals, not captured concubines, and treat them with friendship, not the whip. In this way, their children and your own would grow up to be brothers.”
The fire had burned down. No one bothered to add more fuel, so Eskkar gathered some wood himself, dumping it on the flames, then arranging the new sticks. Others joined in, and for a few moments everyone focused on rebuilding the fire, giving Subutai time to think. When Esk kar sat down, the circle went silent again.
“Both of you have given me much to think about,” Subutai said cautiously. “And in return for your help, you only ask us to raid the Alur Meriki at the height of the battle?”
“Yes,” Esk kar answered, a little too quickly, so he checked his pace. “It may be that your help isn’t needed to defeat them, or it may be that we are fallen. But at the height of the main attack, your diversion might turn the battle.”
Subutai took a deep breath, and his lips came together for a moment.
“I’d hoped we were finished with fighting for a time. Now we must decide if there is yet one more battle to risk.”
“Chief Subutai, we, too, have one more battle to fight,” Esk kar answered. “But there is always one more battle to wage. Each season brings some new threat. What’s important to remember is to fight only those fights that make your people grow, not those that gain nothing except lasting hatred.”
Esk kar spoke the words, but the idea and thoughts were Trella’s. They’d spoken many times about the future, after the Alur Meriki were defeated.
Subutai stood up and bowed, his people rising to their feet with him.
“You would have me change the ways of my people, and that is not an easy thing to do. But we’ll consider your words.”
He left the circle and moved back to where his people had gathered before, his warriors and their women following. In a few moments, they had started a small fire and sat down around it.
“Do you think he’ll do it?” Esk kar asked Trella in a whisper as he slipped his arm around her.
“Oh, yes. He will have no choice. The women will see to it. They know that if the tribe does not grow, they’ll all be dead or captured soon enough.
And they want the goods Orak can provide to make life easier for them.”
Trella rested her head on his shoulder.
“I was angry when I heard you had left Orak,” Esk kar murmured. “But now I’m glad that you came. I tried to convince Subutai myself but I couldn’t think of a way. But I did manage to change his mind about riding ahead and making you his captive.”
He smiled at the look of confusion that crossed her face. “Never mind.
I’ll tell you all about it when we return to Orak. Now rest. We march for Orak and our own great battle in an hour.”
Two hours after midnight, Esk kar and Trella stepped off the ferry and onto the east bank of the Tigris. They’d scarcely left the flat — bottomed craft before the gang of ferrymen and soldiers began heaving on the ropes, sending the unwieldy craft slowly back across the river, their grunts of effort seeming to boom across the river, which amplified the slightest sound.
They couldn’t do anything about the noise, and it would take another four trips to move everyone, including the horses, back to Orak, so the men would be at risk for another few hours.
Sisuthros waited anxiously for them at dockside, his face filled with relief at their safe return. Once inside the village, Esk kar, Trella, and Sisuthros walked quickly back to their house. They went directly to Esk kar’s workroom, where Corio and Nicar awaited them. Cold food, water, and wine were on the table, while two lamps provided light.
“By Ishtar, we’re glad to see you back,” Sisuthros began excitedly. “The villagers were nearly in a panic with you both gone. Another day, and half of them would be trying to get across the river to join up with you.”
“The barbarians are here?” Esk kar asked as he picked up a cold chicken leg and took a bite.
“Yes, the big band that’s been pillaging to the south arrived two days ago. Our scouts had to run for the gate. Now they’re camped about two miles away at the farm belonging to old Gudea and his sons. He and his family are as mad as hornets that their house was chosen by the barbarians.
We could see about a hundred men from the walls, but there are probably at least twice that number.”
“And the main party? Any news?”
“Nothing in the last few days, but they can’t be too far away now. We’re locked in here now, and there have been no patrols to the north since you left. It’s likely the main force will be making camp a few miles away from here in two or three days.” The tension sounded in his voice. “Your own battle went well?”
“Very well. We lost only eight men during the battle, though one of the wounded died on the return trip. But all seventy — three barbarians were killed, and their horses, those that survived, were given to the Ur Nammu.
It will be at least a week, probably longer, before the Alur Meriki begin to wonder what happened to those they sent across the Tigris.”
Esk kar smiled grimly at that thought. “At any rate, we now have ninety more veterans to put on the wall, men who know the barbarians can be beaten.”
“And the Ur Nammu?” Corio asked. “Will they help us in our fight?”
Esk kar shrugged. “I’m not sure. Their chief
was killed in the battle, and his son now decides for the tribe. But Trella did her best to persuade him. They may yet give us some small help.”
“We didn’t want Lady Trella to go,” Nicar said, looking at Trella as he spoke. “We knew you would be angry. But she insisted, and there was nothing we could say to prevent her.”
“It matters little, now that you’re both safely back,” Corio remarked.
“It is time to get ready for the first attack. When do you think they will attack?”
“Just as soon as their ruler arrives,” Esk kar answered. “He’ll want to see the first attack, and he will probably bring his own warriors ahead of the main party. But he may not want to leave the main camp unguarded and too far to the rear. So tomorrow or the next day should bring the fi rst assault.”
Nicar stood. “We should let them get some sleep. They’re tired and need their rest.”
The others nodded, said their goodnights, and departed for their own beds and a few hours’ sleep. Esk kar escorted them downstairs. When they were gone, he returned to the workroom to find Trella seated at the table.
She had extinguished one of the lamps to save oil.
“You’re not tired, Trella?” He sat down next to her. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Everything is starting now.” Her voice was low and her eyes stared at the table. “I mean, all the planning and building and training… everything is finished. Now the battle begins.”
It took him a moment to understand her words. “Yes, this is the way of war. All the preliminaries are over, and luck or the gods decide your fate.
We’ve prepared as best we could. Now swords and arrows will determine if we live or die. All our decisions and choices will be held up to the light for all to see.”
She turned toward him. “You don’t fear tomorrow! Why am I suddenly filled with fear? I wasn’t afraid until now.”
“All men are afraid of their first battle, Trella. When we waited for the Alur Meriki up in the valley, the men’s fear was so thick I was sure the Alur Meriki could smell it three hundred paces away. Men’s teeth were chattering, their bowels loosening, and their hands shaking. But once the battle starts, there’s no time for fear. This is your first battle. Don’t be concerned about these thoughts.”
The night before battle, every man had to face his fear, some men of sword thrusts, others of arrows or lances, and most worried about their own bravery. He realized a woman could be as afraid. “Anyway, we have nowhere to run.”
“And death? We could both be dead by tomorrow night!”
That was more likely than she realized. He pulled her from her chair onto his lap, holding her close as her arms went around his neck and she squeezed him with all her strength.
“All men fear death, but I’ve been fi ghting all my life, and should have been dead many times. Now I only fear losing you.” He kissed her hair and neck, then turned her head toward him.
“When you sat at the fire across from Subutai, you looked and spoke like a goddess come down from the heavens. Every man in camp envied me when you lay down beside me to rest, and I’m sure many wished themselves in my place, with their hands upon you.”
He kissed her again and this time she kissed him back, though the tears were starting now and her body shook with the effort to hold them back.
“I’m just a frightened girl, pretending to be all — wise, because that’s what the people need. Now all I want is for you to take me away, someplace where five thousand barbarians won’t be trying to kill us.”
He smiled. “No, it’s too late now. Once, perhaps, I could have done that. But that’s not enough for me any longer. You are wise and you care about many people, and you deserve something better than a hard life as a soldier’s wife. Here you are… will be… a queen in Orak, and all men will know your wisdom and beauty.”
She wriggled on his lap as she tried to hold him closer, and suddenly he felt excited by her touch, or the heat from her body, or maybe by the threat of dying on the morrow.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her into the dark bedroom. “Now I need you to love me, to give me strength for the days ahead.”
He sat her down on the bed and helped her remove her dress, as she seemed too weak to do it by herself, then pushed her back gently. When he slid under the blanket, she moved into his arms and buried her face in his neck and he barely heard her words.
“Give me your strength, Esk kar, and I’ll be strong for you forever.”
22
Esk kar awoke with a start, alone in bed, with the morning sun making bright patterns of light on the blanket and the floor. Sitting up, he realized the soft bed had let him sleep at least an hour past sunrise. He’d told Trella to waken him an hour before dawn.
Two hours wasted.
The house seemed strangely quiet as he hurriedly dressed. The outer workroom was empty and the door that led downstairs closed. When he opened it, subdued voices and the smell of crisping meat floated up from the kitchen. He went down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, he found Gatus emerging from the kitchen, dressed for battle, a piece of chicken in his hand.
“Good morning, Captain. I was about to wake you.” Before Esk kar could reply, he continued. “We decided to let you sleep a little longer. All the men are posted at the wall and there are only a few barbarians watching us from the hilltops.” He wrinkled his nose. “You might want to wash up before you eat. You still smell like a horse.”
“Where’s Trella?” Why hadn’t she awakened him? The barbarians might have attacked at dawn.
“Where she’s supposed to be, out with the women.” Gatus took another bite from his chicken leg. “This is good. I think it was supposed to be your breakfast.”
Esk kar swore at the grinning soldier, then strode past him into the kitchen. Bantor’s wife stood there, tending the kitchen fi re, ready with his breakfast. Halfway to the table, he decided Gatus was right.
“Hold the food, Annok — sur.” He went outside to the well, stripping off his tunic and using it to scrub himself down. A servant came and drew bucket after bucket of water for him until Esk kar felt as clean as he could be without a swim in the river. Wrapping his wet tunic around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and dressed again, this time for battle.
He took his time, binding his undergarment tightly around his loins, then donning a clean linen tunic. He strapped on the sandals that Trella had purchased for him that first day, making sure the wide leather straps were tightly knotted around his calves.
The servant entered the bedroom with a knock, holding a thick leather vest. He laced a leather protector onto Esk kar’s lower right arm, then a smaller one onto his upper arm. Esk kar belted the great sword around his waist and thrust his knife, almost as long as the men’s short fighting sword, into his belt. Last the servant offered the bronze casque, the helmet that would protect his head, but Esk kar shook his head. “Leave it. It’s too hot.”
He nodded his thanks to the servant and returned to the kitchen. He wolfed down the remains of the chicken, ripping it apart with his fingers and washing it down with water and handfuls of bread.
“Salt, Annok — sur.” She handed him a bowl containing the rough crys-tals.
Men fighting or working in the heat did better with extra salt, though no one knew why. Esk kar swallowed a bitter mouthful of the gritty stuff, then washed it down with the last of the water.
“Good fortune to you today, Captain,” Annok — sur offered when he finished, wiping her hands clean on a rag and following him to the door.
She would have duties of her own today. “Good fortune to you and Bantor.”
Esk kar turned and stopped so suddenly that she bumped into him.
“And thank you both for what you’ve done for Trella. Bantor is a lucky man to have such a good wife, but don’t tell him I said that.”
She laughed and touched his shoulder. “There are many things I don’t tell Bantor, Captain.”
Es
k kar wondered about what things Trella didn’t choose to tell him as he stepped outside into the bright sunlight. His men had converted the courtyard into a command post. Gatus sat at the main table, along with Jalen and a handful of soldiers. A dozen messenger boys were packed into a corner of the yard, all wearing distinctive red bindings around their arms so the soldiers would recognize them and let them through.
Clerks mixed with subcommanders who would coordinate the defenses.
Nicar and the other members of the Families sat at a second table, each with his own duties and his respective attendants. The spacious courtyard barely accommodated those responsible for Orak’s defense.
Esk kar walked over to the main table, reminding himself to take his rest wherever and whenever possible today.
“All the men are in position, Captain.” Gatus spoke formally. “Bantor and Sisuthros are at the gate, along with Corio and his eldest. Jalen has inspected the rear gate. Maldar will command the men on the riverside, and I’ll command the north wall. Hamati and Alexar direct the east and west walls. All the men have been fed and the water buckets are full. Each man has been given his instructions for the hundredth time, though I’m sure they’ll forget them as soon as the first barbarian starts for the wall.”
In a few words Gatus had given Esk kar all the information he needed and at the same time had communicated that all was as it should be.
“So, I should have stayed in bed longer. Maybe you would’ve called me after the fighting was over.”
“They’re not going to attack for hours, even days,” Gatus offered reasonably. “First they’ll try to frighten us with their presence.” He looked squarely at his leader. “Now it’s time to inspect the men and give them some words.”