by Sam Barone
Ventor started to walk away, but Esk kar put out his arm. “Do everything you can for him. He fought bravely today.”
“So did many others, as I can see by their wounds,” he answered tiredly.
“But I will come back when I can. Annok — sur will call me if something happens.” Ventor pushed past Esk kar on his way down the stairs.
“I should be helping the others.” Annok — sur’s voice trembled and her shoulders shook with the effort to hold back the tears. “There are wounded all over the village.”
“Stay here,” Esk kar ordered, “and watch him carefully. Send word if you need anything.” She stood there, twisting a bandage in her hands.
“He’s strong, Annok — sur. The gods will surely help him to recover.”
There was nothing more Esk kar could do, so he returned downstairs, pausing halfway down to survey the aftermath, trying to shut out the moans of the injured. On the battlefield, far from water or healers, with any kind of a serious injury, most men died. Here, with many to care for them, maybe half might live. The women had prepared as best they could, making bandages from clean rags, setting up benches and tables for the injured, and ensuring that water and wine were plentiful, both for those wounded and those helping them.
Esk kar went out into the courtyard, striding over to the table where he found Gatus, Corio, Nicar, Rebba, and the other leaders. Gatus had emerged without a scratch, though he had been exposed often enough. As Esk kar heard their reports he ground his teeth in anger.
The problem was the towers. They drew arrows from every warrior. He swore silently that next time the Alur Meriki came to Orak, they would find more and bigger towers, so that the men defending them were not singled out. And future towers would project out over the wall, so that the defenders would not have to lean out over them to shoot at anyone at the base of the gate or the wall itself. He swore at himself for not thinking of that in advance, though nobody else had thought of it either.
Gatus took one look at his captain, poured some wine into a cup, and handed it to Esk kar. “How are they?” His head turned toward the wounded.
“Sisuthros is good… just can’t talk. Maldar is bad, but may live, if the rot does not set in. Bantor is… has lost a lot of blood and the healer doesn’t know. Or won’t say if he does.”
He held the wine cup to his lips and had to concentrate to keep his hand from shaking-though he wondered why he bothered. Plenty of brave men shook after a fight, grateful to be alive and away from the stress of battle.
“Get the Captain a bench,” Gatus ordered, and one of the Hawk Clan pushed a stool over to Esk kar. “The scribes have finally finished counting our dead and wounded.” Gatus squinted over the clay tablet. “Fifty — one archers dead, sixty — two wounded. If they come again, we’ll have to strip the men from the rear and side walls.”
Esk kar struggled with the numbers for a moment. A quarter of his fighting men were dead or out of action, and most of the casualties came from the towers and the gate. More than a hundred precious archers it had taken months to train. Now the defenses would be stretched thin.
“They won’t be back today, I’m sure of that. How many did we kill? Do you have the count?”
“No, not yet. The ditch men are still doing their work. Jalen will send word when they’ve finished the counting.”
“The ladders have already been picked up and the ram will soon be chopped into firewood, Captain,” Corio added. “It will take them time to fi nd wood and make new ladders. The gate is in good condition. The fi res didn’t burn long enough to damage anything, and the ram made only a few cracks. We’re nailing new wood over the damaged places. It should be completed before nightfall.”
Esk kar nodded in satisfaction. “Good, Corio, your gate did well.” A horse galloped up and a grinning clerk from Nicar’s staff flung himself from the horse’s back outside the gate and then rushed over to the table.
“Captain, I bring word from Jalen. We’ve counted the barbarian dead.”
The messenger paused dramatically before imparting his news. “Three hundred and thirty — two dead, Captain. That includes those killed in the morning,” he added, then remembered the rest of his report. “Jalen is collecting the weapons and arrows, and he went over the wall to fire the carts they left behind.”
“Ishtar!” Gatus smacked his fist on the table. “The fool will get himself killed over a few wagons.”
The clerk looked around nervously. “The archers are protecting them and…”
“That’s enough, boy,” Esk kar said. Too late now to order Jalen back inside. By the time someone reached the gate, he’d either be finished with his burning or dead. “Anything else?” When nothing new was offered, Eskkar thanked the clerk and sent him back to his duties.
“Well, Gatus, the barbarians were fools to leave those carts behind. It will be good to burn them. Nevertheless, if we can count three hundred dead, then there are probably another hundred wounded. This is a terrible defeat for them. They’ve lost many men, including some of their best archers.”
“What will come next?” Nicar asked. “Will they come again?”
“Oh, yes, but not until they have a new plan. They’ve learned their lesson today and they won’t try to match bows with us again. Not like that at any rate. And today they learned we won’t collapse in fear at the sight of them.”
Esk kar took a deep breath. “If they come at the gate again, they’ll be better prepared. They might have taken the gate today if they’d been more organized. They were slow bringing up their reinforcements.”
Even the mighty Alur Meriki could blunder in the heat of battle, Eskkar realized. But they wouldn’t make that mistake again. His eyes met Nicar’s again. “Or maybe they’ll come at night.” Nicar looked uncomfortable, and that reminded him.
“Did we find those men who left their posts?” Esk kar looked at Gatus.
“Where are they?”
Gatus and Nicar exchanged a look before the old soldier replied.
“There are thirty men outside in the street,” Gatus said calmly. “Four men were in charge of them. Three have been found and they’re outside as well. We’re still searching for the fourth man.” Gatus leaned back and looked at Nicar.
“Captain, they just did as their leaders did,” Nicar said defensively.
“Most are good men and shouldn’t be punished for their leaders’ failures.”
A silence fell over the table, though the moans of the injured and the voices of those tending them continued. Esk kar paused for a moment, trying to get his temper under control.
“Those men were supposed to bring stones to the gate. The reserve force was called up. Bantor, Maldar, and Sisuthros were wounded.” He looked around the table. “If the fight on the north wall had lasted any longer, the gate would have been taken and the village lost. And now one of those who ran is hiding from us!”
Esk kar closed his fist and tapped it gently on the table. “I should kill them all, all thirty of them. Perhaps Bantor and the others would not be lying wounded if these villagers had stayed at their posts.” No one met his gaze. “I’d kill every one of them, if I might not need them tomorrow.”
He let his fist open.
“The four leaders are to die and their goods confiscated, to be distributed with any other loot taken. The others will be assigned duties of greater danger. If they falter, the soldiers are to kill them instantly.
What they did and why they’re being punished is to be explained to every man in Orak, so that everyone understands what will happen if they run again.”
Nicar swallowed nervously but kept silent. The look on Esk kar’s face was plain to all. No entreaty would change his mind.
Gatus turned to Nicar. “It’s better than they deserve. The villagers must see that their leaders are willing to fight for them.” He looked back at Esk kar. “We’ll find the fourth man soon enough. How do you want them to die?”
Esk kar wanted them tortured over the fire
, but knew he couldn’t order that.
“Just kill them, Gatus, as soon as you find the last one, just kill them and make sure everyone knows why. Do it in the marketplace, with a sword thrust. It’s a better fate than the barbarians would have given them. Nicar and Rebba can handle the details.”
He put all thoughts of those men out of his mind. “Now let’s get ready for the next attack.”
Two miles away, a disgusted Thutmose — sin sat inside his tent, still thinking about the failed attack he witnessed earlier. The dirt — eaters had not quailed at the sight of his warriors. Instead they fought bravely, their cursed arrows wreaking havoc among his men. Their outcast leader had prepared his men well, training the cowards to fight with the bow while hiding behind their wall. And each time the Alur Meriki pressed the attack, this Esk kar had rallied his men.
Now Thutmose — sin had to deliver even more bad news to the council. Bar’rack had ridden into the camp an hour earlier, near exhaustion.
Bar’rack’s clan leader, Insak, heard the story first. Insak then gathered Altanar, the other clan leader who’d provided warriors for the raid across the river, and the three of them carried the evil tidings to Thutmose — sin.
Bar’rack again related what had happened on the other side of the Tigris. Thutmose — sin sat stone — faced as the tale unfolded. The news didn’t surprise him. He’d already assumed the riders were dead or scattered, otherwise they would have signaled days ago. It was one thing to be a day or two late in arriving, but it would be a foolish leader who disobeyed his sarrum’s orders for more than a week. When Bar’rack finished, Thutmose — sin told him to keep silent about the loss and dismissed him.
“It must have been this Esk kar,” Thutmose — sin said when they were alone. “He moves quickly. Across the river only a few days ago, then back to Orak to meet our attack.”
“How did he know about the warriors,” Insak asked. “It would take time to gather men, to prepare this ambush. Is there a spy within our camp, someone who…”
“No, I don’t think so,” Thutmose — sin replied. “From the Ur Nammu he learned about our plans to encircle the village. With that knowledge, he guessed we would send a force across the river. So he recruited the Ur Nammu to provide riders, made his preparations, and moved northward.”
“He’s a demon, then,” Altanar said, “one of our own turned against us.
He must be killed, flayed alive, and burned over the fire.”
“On that we agree, Altanar,” Thutmose — sin said. “But first we have to capture him. Summon the rest of the council. I’ll tell them the news.”
The two clan leaders left, and Thutmose — sin resumed his thoughts.
Orak had turned into a disaster. Today’s failure, coupled with this latest news, would turn the council into an angry mob. Outside his tent, he could hear the clan leaders gathering, some still quarreling about today’s attack, blaming each other for the failure to capture the village. Their voices rose in anger, and the accusations and recriminations flowed freely.
“All the clan leaders are waiting, Sarrum.”
Thutmose — sin cleared his thoughts, buckled the sword around his waist, then stepped outside. The full council of the Alur Meriki, with every clan leader present, turned toward him. His presence stopped the bickering, and they took their seats on the open ground before his tent.
Only then did Thutmose — sin join them, taking the last empty spot that completed the circle. Markad and Issogu took their places behind him.
No other guards were permitted when the full council met. Thutmose — sin nodded to Insak.
“One of my warriors has returned from across the river,” Insak began.
He repeated Bar’rack’s story, taking his time and leaving nothing out. The council sat there, mouths open, stunned into silence at hearing that another force of Alur Meriki warriors had ceased to exist.
“These dirt — eaters,” Insak concluded, “must be swept from the earth.
My clan demands vengeance on these fi lth. They are even worse than the Ur Nammu who shame their clan by joining forces with them.”
They all started talking, asking more questions at fi rst, then beginning the argument that Thutmose — sin expected. Some wanted to hunt down the Ur Nammu, some to raid the lands across the river. Others wanted to attack the village again, as soon as possible. A few, Thutmose — sin noted, wanted to move on. He counted these, relieved that only four clan leaders spoke openly of leaving Orak.
At last Thutmose — sin raised his hand, and the conversations trailed off.
“My clan brothers,” he began, “we must destroy this village. For us, there is no other way.”
He gazed at every clan leader as his eyes went around the circle. “We are committed. We’ve driven the dirt — eaters to this place, and destroyed their farms and fields. Our men across the river were to prevent them from escaping, but they are not trying to escape. The few boats they might have are inside the walls, unused. This Orak offers a challenge to us each day that it resists. Its people are prepared to die here, and die they must. We planned for this battle. We traveled out of our path. Now we must finish it. If we had food enough, I’d stay here and starve them out. But the lands are empty, and we cannot remain here much longer.”
“But the loss of the raiding party. Do we not need them…”
“The raiding party was to keep the dirt — eaters from crossing the river.”
Thutmose — sin stood. “Our men have watched the crossing and none of the villagers have tried to flee. Our warriors across the river would not be of any help to us even if they were alive. And I’m sure Insak and Altanar’s men killed many dirt — eaters before they died. Now it falls to us to avenge our kin.”
No one spoke. He’d shamed them all into silence, and now no one met his gaze.
“So nothing has changed. The dirt — eaters held us off today only by luck. Next time will be different.”
He let his voice grow hard. “The Alur Meriki have never been defeated. Remind your warriors of that. Tell them to prepare to attack the village again. Tell them that no matter what the cost, the next attack will succeed, or every Alur Meriki warrior will die in the attempt. And this time, my clan brothers, we will hold nothing back, and we will not fail.”
24
Esk kar returned to his bedroom well after midnight and closed the door. Bantor remained on the table outside, resting under his wife’s eye on a layer of linen blankets. Ventor didn’t want to chance reopening Bantor’s wounds by carrying him down to his bed.
Instead the healer, along with his apprentice, took what sleep they could in Bantor’s room downstairs.
He found Trella waiting for him, sitting cross — legged on the bed, a single, small lamp shedding smoky light throughout the chamber. He knew he’d kept her from sleeping, that she stayed up because he might need her.
“You should have slept,” he chided her gently, though grateful she’d stayed awake.
Trella stood and came into his arms. “It’s been a long day for you, Eskkar. I thought you might need to talk.” She spoke softly, reminding him that others slept in the outer room. She held him close for a moment, then stepped back and helped him remove the great sword from his waist. “I saw what you did with the men at the gate. I was in the marketplace when they were killed.”
Most of the wounded received treatment at the marketplace, and she’d gone there after doing what she could at the house.
He held her for a moment, then sat tiredly on the edge of the bed. “I was angry. The gate could’ve been taken and all of us killed. They deserved to die. I wanted to kill them myself, put them to the torture.”
Trella filled a cup with a mixture of water and wine and handed it to him. “They said that Nicar asked for mercy on their behalf.”
He smiled at her, then drained the cup. “So you were at the table after all.”
She took the empty cup from his hand and put it on the floor, then got on the bed behind him
and began to rub his shoulders, her fingers strong on the muscles of his neck. “You did the right thing, killing only the leaders, and doing it quickly before anyone could feel sorry for them. But Nicar also was right to ask you for mercy for the others. You should thank him for it, you know.” She kissed his neck. “He gave you good advice, though you did not ask him for it.”
Esk kar started to relax. The massage stopped for a moment and he heard the rustle of her dress as she removed it. Then her hands were reaching around to hold him and he could feel her breasts soft against his back, her nipples hard.
“You need to get some sleep, Esk kar, before the morning is upon us. Let me help you sleep.” She blew out the lamp and pushed him down on the bed. Her mouth found his and she kissed him tenderly, her hands moving over him, her body twining against his.
Suddenly Esk kar wanted her. His fatigue vanished and he felt the urg-ings rise up inside him. He’d survived another battle and now he wanted her, as much to prove that he still lived as for any other reason. He pulled her down beside him on the bed and moved atop her, heard her moan softly as he entered her and felt her arms encircle him. Then he thought of nothing else.
The sun had climbed well over the horizon before he awoke, the street sounds finally rousing him. Again Trella had let him sleep but had risen early for her own work. Esk kar felt annoyed at himself. The village lay surrounded by thousands of savage enemies and Orak’s leader slept in his soft bed until well past the dawn.
He shook the sleep from his eyes and dressed, then went into the outer room, stopping abruptly when he found others there. To his further surprise, Bantor was awake, propped up by blankets and being fed soup by his wife. He looked pale and weak but his eyes seemed alert.
“Bantor! I’m glad to see you awake.” Esk kar looked at Annok — sur. “Did the healer… I mean… is he…”
“Ventor said he is doing better.” Annok — sur couldn’t disguise the happiness in her voice. “He isn’t allowed to speak. And he’s very weak and must not move or exert himself for several days. The healer has already changed the bandages and says the blood flow has stopped.”