by Sam Barone
“They’re a great number of people, Esk kar, but most are women, children, and slaves,” Trella said. “And the horses. There must be more than a thousand of them. What will they eat? How long can they stay before the grass is all gone?”
“More than two thousand horses,” he corrected. “And the warriors, they can eat the cattle and, if need be, the horses as well. A warrior can go for many days without food.”
“If they eat too many animals,” Trella said, “they’ll have none left to breed. Any they expected to find here are across the river, out of reach, and they have no easy way to cross over. They’ve already stripped the land behind them. They must attack the village quickly, overcome it, and move on. Even the land in front of them is burned to the earth.”
That matched Esk kar’s assessment of the situation. The farther away the food source, whether grain or animal, the more difficult to bring it back to camp. Riders would use up as much food as they could carry back in a few days’ ride, so there was little benefit in trying to move supplies on horseback. The cumbersome wagons traveled slowly and broke down often. A team of oxen could generally cover two miles an hour, and no amount of beating would make them move faster. Even herd animals couldn’t be driven too hard, lest they die. So the main camp remained on the move, and always moving in the direction of fresh food and grazing.
“The Alur Meriki lost about sixty men in the first battle with the Ur Nammu, then another seventy across the river, and another seventy here, plus their wounded,” he mused out loud. “That is…”
“About two hundred men,” Trella finished the sum. “They seem to be waiting for the band across the river.”
The day after the battle, the Alur Meriki built a signal fire on the highest ground next to the river, and green wood smoke rose into the air each day since. By now they’d be wondering what delayed their raiders, but Eskkar doubted they’d think the entire party wiped out, at least not yet. In a few more days, when no word came, they’d suspect the truth. That would make them wonder how strong a force opposed them across the river, and whether they dared risk another sizable force in a second crossing.
“When do you think they will come?”
Everyone asked the same question. “Tomorrow, I think,” Esk kar said.
“They are almost ready.”
“Can you hold them off?”
Esk kar gazed into her serious brown eyes. “I don’t know, Trella,” he answered, his voice low so nobody else could overhear his words. “I just don’t know. I do know they’ll pay a heavy price, more than they ever imagined. We’ll have to see.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be afraid for either of us.”
She straightened up, in control of her emotions and her expression. “Make sure you come home early tonight. We’ll have much to talk about.”
But when they found themselves alone in bed that night, there wasn’t much to say, though he held her close and felt a tear on her cheek.
“Enough of my tears.” She sat up in the bed, her voice firm once more.
“You will hold the village, Esk kar. I believe in you and I will not be afraid of the future. You don’t need to worry about me. Just take no unnecessary risks.”
He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he ran his fi ngers up her arm, then touched the softness of her breast. “I’ll take care, Trella.” Esk kar ignored the whisper in his mind that suggested that tomorrow might be the day of his death. Holding each other, they drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning Esk kar stood on the wall and watched the sun rise over the hills to the east, the barbarian camp already alive with activity.
One look confirmed his fears. The attack would be today, probably between midmorning and noon.
His men looked ready and every face showed determination. They’d be fighting for their families as well as their lives. Some sought revenge for blood spilled. Whatever the reason, each would put strength in a man’s arm.
“By noon today,” Gatus commented, lifting his leather cap and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Yes, or sooner,” Esk kar answered, shading his eyes as he tried to estimate what forces would be placed where. “But we have a surprise for them, I think.”
After the first attack, the water wheels had fed water into wooden troughs that led through the wall. The troughs could be pushed out to varying lengths into the ditch. Two such devices had been built on each side of the main gate. In addition villagers lifted water from Orak’s wells and fed a constant stream into the ditch, backbreaking labor that exhausted the laborers after just a few hours.
Even now, leaning over the edge, Esk kar could see water trickling out into the ditch and turning the earth into mud three or four inches deep.
He’d tested it himself last night, lowered from a rope to the base of the wall, where he’d tried to walk around. Instead he had slipped and fallen flat on his face, to the muffled laughter of those above. After more sinking and stumbling, they pulled him back up, his feet encased in mud.
Now he sat on a tall stool halfway between the gate and the northeast tower that had borne the brunt of the last attack. Once again Esk kar expected this site to receive the main thrust. He felt self — conscious about sitting and resting while everyone else stood. But Gatus, who used one himself, urged him to take his rest whenever possible.
Out on the plain, the barbarians began their maneuvers. The war leaders shouted and waved their bows as they moved huge numbers of men and horses into position.
Ordinarily the Alur Meriki found it a simple task to position a warrior at a certain place. But today the war chiefs had much more to do. They had to assign men to attack certain parts of the village, this group of fifty to the rear gate, that group to follow them to the north wall, and so on. And this time each group had to carry ladders, ropes, and fire arrows, items not usually handled by warriors. Many would be complaining or resisting the assignment. Esk kar smiled when he saw ladders passed from one warrior to another, accompanied by much shouting and shoving.
“Warriors want to fight, not carry ladders,” he said to Gatus. “The strongest hand the ladders to the weakest. But there are a great many men.
And today they have plenty of ladders.”
Gatus stepped away to ask one of the clerks assigned to counting the enemy whether he had finished his task, grunted, then returned to Esk kar’s side. “It looks like about fourteen hundred men out there. At this rate, it will be noon before they’re ready,” Gatus said. “Look, they’re bringing a battering ram.”
Esk kar squinted into the sun and saw that a huge tree trunk rested atop a cart, pushed along by a group of slaves, a task that wouldn’t please those assigned to it. About twenty horsemen escorted them to make sure they kept to their work. The slaves carrying firepots wouldn’t be any happier.
The pots needed to be replenished with fresh fuel, which apparently no one had remembered to bring. Resolving these issues took time and more hours passed before all the men and their burdens reached their assigned places. Other carts lumbered up behind the warriors, and the horsemen moved forward a hundred paces to allow the carts to come closer.
At the first stirrings of the horsemen a ripple of sound had run up and down the wall. The soldiers thought the attack had begun. When the horsemen halted, waiting for the carts to close up, Esk kar and Gatus turned to each other with smiles on their faces. The leading edge of the riders stood just within long range of the bowmen. The leading warriors sat on their animals while they waited for the final arrangements, believing themselves out of range, when in truth they stood about thirty paces past the first mark.
Esk kar turned to Totomes, who’d taken his station behind the commanders. His face showed that he looked forward to sending arrows into the unsuspecting riders. “Master Bowman, I think it’s time to show these invaders what they’re in for.”
A villager readied his drum and waited for the order. He’d relay Totomes’s commands. Totomes leaned back and waved his bow to signal
the other lead archers. He took but a few moments to assure himself that everyone stood ready, and then he gave the order. Three quick beats sounded, repeated a few seconds later as another drummer relayed the signal down the length of the wall.
Two hundred and sixty archers in two ranks on the wall readied their weapons, drawing their bows to the fullest and aiming up into the sky. Totomes gave the command, and a single drumbeat echoed along the wall.
A storm of arrows burst upward into the sky, followed by another and another. Leaders of ten called the cadence out, exactly as they had during the months of training. Esk kar’s eyes stayed fixed on the distant horsemen even as he heard the rasp of wood on wood, followed by the grunts of the men as they let the shafts fly.
The first flight landed, many falling short, but enough striking the leading ranks as they sat there, many looking up at the wave of arrows that approached, more surprised than worried about any danger at that range.
That didn’t last long. As the second cloud descended, animals reared up in pain and wounded men cried out or slipped from their horses. Though nearly spent at such long range, the heavy bronze — tipped shafts could still kill.
The leading warriors tried to move back, but the riders behind blocked their path, and no chief gave any orders to retreat or move forward. The carts continued their journey and added to the confusion, as sweating slaves under the lash and their masters kept directing men and animals forward.
The Alur Meriki milled about in confusion while eight hailstorms of arrows fell upon them. A few rode forward, trying to move under the cloud of missiles, while others forced their animals to the rear. Those who rode forward became targets for the lead archers, allowed to pick their own shots, and soon shafts flew at those who had moved toward Orak.
Esk kar saw one such rider knocked clean off his horse. Another warrior clutched his stomach and hunched over his mount. Suddenly the whole mass of men surged rearward, any semblance of order gone. Warriors might charge fearlessly through arrows in a wild dash for glory, but none wanted to stand in one place and be a target.
Laughter and jeers rang from the walls as the horsemen galloped back out of range, leaving their dead and wounded behind. That would delay them for at least another hour, Esk kar decided, sitting back down on the stool. Totomes walked over, smiling.
“Well, Captain, that was a good lesson for them. They’ll not stand that close again.”
“Good shooting, Totomes,” Esk kar said approvingly. “How many did we strike?”
That required some closer observation. Totomes stepped to the wall, his lips moving as he watched the activity on the hillside. Others were counting as well, but Totomes apparently had faith in his own eyes. “I’d say that we killed another twenty or twenty — five men and horses, and wounded as many more. Better than I thought these men could do, with such small bows.”
Esk kar felt quite pleased. Half a hundred barbarians would be out of today’s attack, at no cost to his men. “I still say it’s good shooting, Totomes.
Not everyone can have your eye and your arm.”
Totomes snorted. “Good shooting, indeed. To hit only half a hundred?
Two hundred and fifty archers shot at least eight arrows each at a standing target. That’s…” he paused a moment, eyes closed and lips moving as he did the sum, a feat far beyond Esk kar’s ability. “That’s… over two thousand arrows, or about one hit in forty. Not very good results at all.”
“At five hundred paces, Totomes, I’ll take any kills they can make.
We’ve plenty of arrows and we’ve delayed their attack for at least another hour. Meanwhile they’ve been standing in the hot sun for most of the morning.”
“Standing without water,” Gatus added, coming over and joining in on the last part of the conversation. “Both the horses and men will be thirsty.”
Esk kar glanced up at the sky, for once grateful of the heat that burned down from the heavens. The defenders had plenty of food, salt, and water, as evidenced by a steady stream of men using the latrines.
The Alur Meriki took more than an hour to regroup. Esk kar could see the frustration as they readied themselves. One clan leader struck a man with a sword, knocking him from his horse, and farther down the line a fight broke out in the ranks with a dozen men involved.
Finally everything was in place and an Alur Meriki drum began to pound. With shouts of relief the horde began to move, walking their horses up to the line of arrows that protruded from the earth and marked plainly the true range of the villagers’ shafts. As they neared it, Esk kar heard Totomes ready the men. They nocked their arrows and drew their bows. The waiting is over, Esk kar decided. One way or another, five months of work would be decided in the next hour.
Along the wall, Totomes, Forno, and the other lead archers calculated the range perfectly. At the same moment the Alur Meriki began to gallop their horses, the first flight of arrows flew free, rushing to meet the approaching horsemen. Esk kar stood up, gathered the stool and slipped to the back edge of the rampart. He dropped the stool down to one of the villagers below. Then Esk kar stood beside Totomes and watched as the northerner directed the archers.
The barbarians rode quickly through the hail of arrows. Esk kar watched the bows, lowered slightly for each shot, until the archers held them level and fired directly, the height of the wall giving them another small advantage in range. The first arrows from the Alur Meriki arrived with a clatter, most of them hitting the wall, some flying overhead, and only a few striking the men.
At that extreme range, many of the spent shafts bounced off leather jerkins. Nevertheless cries of pain sounded, as arrows pierced bare arms and shoulders. Esk kar saw one man struck in the eye and killed instantly.
But the creak of wood followed by the twang of the released bowstring went on steadily. Enemy horsemen were dropping even as they reached the ditch. This time the horsemen pulled up, not wanting to be caught in the ditch. But a few jumped their beasts in, while others split to each side of the eastern wall, turning along the narrow path to ride down the north and south sides.
Those who jumped into the ditch found more than they bargained for.
The horses sank into the mud and despite the din Esk kar heard leg bones snapping as they pitched, man and beast, to the ground. The high — pitched screams of horses in pain rose above the cries of wounded warriors.
But many of the warriors remained on their horses, trading arrows with their foes on the wall, while others dismounted and leaped down into the ditch. The soldiers kept firing their shafts into the mass of men and animals, with barbarians so crowded together that almost every arrow struck something. If this keeps up, Esk kar thought, we’ll break them right here.
Totomes’s voice boomed over the men, shouting orders that echoed along the wall. The first rank of archers leaned over the wall and began killing those on foot below. A few volleys and the attackers below began trying to scramble back out. Meanwhile the second rank of archers continued to fire into the enemy across the ditch.
Even with only a single row firing, they devastated the riders. The bowmen could scarcely miss such a massed target at close range. Soon the far side of the ditch was littered with men and animals, some writhing in pain, many with multiple shafts protruding from their bodies. A drum began to sound at the rear of the barbarian ranks and the riders broke off, riding north and south to get away from the deadly arrow storm. Others dismounted to attack the walls on foot as carts finally reached the edge of the ditch, pushed into position by slaves and warriors.
With the carts providing some shelter the barbarians began to shoot back at the men on the walls. Totomes directed all the archers to aim at the bowmen behind the carts. Arrows struck home there, instantly turning the carts into a forest of arrows as dozens of shafts hit.
But the carts made a difference. A mass of Alur Meriki moved forward and into the ditch, while the defenders continued to exchange shafts with the warriors protected behind the carts. At least three hun
dred fighters plied their bows, so they more than matched the defenders. However, the Alur Meriki shot at longer range, about ninety paces, an easy distance for the practiced archers behind the wall. Under their fire the men standing next to the carts went down first. And as more and more men crowded behind the wagons to fire their weapons, even the smaller targets offered were being hit.
The men needed little guidance, each man firing as quickly as possible.
Esk kar turned away from the wall to look back down into the village. The villagers, men and women, kept on doing their jobs. Fresh quivers of arrows continued to reach the bowmen, and enough dead men lay behind the wall to provide replacement bows.
Totomes bellowed orders that brought villagers, armed with axes and forked sticks, up the parapet. The archers continued to ply their bows, moving back just enough to allow these new defenders to take their positions directly behind the wall. The rampart was only four long paces wide, and three ranks of men could barely fit on it at one time.
Ladders slapped against the wall, some pushed away instantly by the villagers, but others remaining as the attackers below used their weight to hold them in place. Esk kar looked out across the ditch. The defenders’ deadly archery continued to take its toll. The barbarian bowmen, carts notwithstanding, seemed to show little stomach to go toe to toe with Or-ak’s bowmen. Less than half of their original number remained standing.
Many of these now huddled behind the carts, themselves barely visible beneath the hundreds of arrows protruding from them.
Esk kar’s archers kept firing, grunting steadily with the effort to bend the stiff bows and launch the heavy shafts. Weeks of practice had tough-ened those muscles and he saw no one fail to pull the shaft to his ear before releasing. A thrill of pride went through him that they could take such punishment and continue to fight so effectively.