by Sam Barone
“You are a coward,” Rethnar said, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword.
Altanar rose with him, his own blade flashing from its sheath.
“Sit down!” Thutmose — sin shouted the words, but the two clan chieftains, if they even heard his command, had gone too far to stop.
Pandemonium broke out in the camp. Clansmen of Rethnar and Altanar rushed up. Thutmose — sin’s guards, extra alert after last night’s failure, scooped their leader up and pulled him away from the circle. They formed a barrier between him and the melee that had exploded before their eyes.
A dozen men were fighting in a moment, and more would be rushing to join them. Thutmose — sin knew it needed to be stopped now.
“Guards,” he shouted in a voice loud enough to be heard over the fighting, “Kill anyone who doesn’t stop fighting now! Kill them!” His men surged forward. They easily outnumbered the handful of fighters, who saw the menace in their advance. The two clan leaders broke off their duel, and their clansmen followed reluctantly.
“Stand between them,” Thutmose — sin ordered, his voice carrying to everyone now that the clash of weapons had ended. “Kill anyone who doesn’t put down his sword! I’ll not have you killing each other because of the dirt — eaters.”
With an oath, Rethnar lowered his sword. A moment later Altanar did the same. The two men glowered at each other. Thutmose — sin stepped forward, moving into the center of the space. “Or would you rather fight me?” He looked around the circle. “Chioti, bring me my sword.”
Thutmose — sin waited, surrounded by angry men still clasping bronze in their hands, until Chioti pushed the guards aside and handed him a sword. Taking the blade, he hefted it, then swung it hard over his head, the weapon hissing through the air. “Do you want to challenge me, Altanar?”
When the clan leader didn’t respond, Thutmose — sin turned to Rethnar.
“Do you, Rethnar?”
Rethnar took his time answering, and Thutmose — sin knew the clan chief was wondering how much the fight last night might slow Thutmose sin down. He walked over to Rethnar, the sword pointed at the ground.
“Are you challenging me?” Thutmose — sin spoke softly, but everyone heard the menace in his words.
“No, Sarrum. It’s just that…”
“Then you, both of you, sheath your swords, send your men away, and sit down. I’ve something to say.”
He waited until Rethnar and Altanar settled onto the ground. “Altanar is right,” he began. “We will lose many more warriors in taking this village.
And it’s true there will be little of value inside Orak to make up for those who die.” Thutmose — sin turned to Rethnar. “But Rethnar is right also. If we don’t defeat these miserable villagers, every dirt — digger in the land will begin moving to the nearest village. They will band together and resist us.
Once they know we can be driven off, we’ll be fighting over every farm and mud hut we encounter.”
He moved in front of Altanar. “Would you change the path of our migration, Altanar? If we fail to take this place, we can never come back to these lands again. If we do, Orak will be twice as strong, with twice as many fighters within. Is that what you want your sons, your clan to face?”
Thutmose — sin walked around the circle, his eyes challenging each clan chief and his subcommanders. “No, my clansmen, we are no longer fighting here for horses or loot, not even for honor. This Orak must be destroyed, or these lands will be forbidden to us. We’re fighting to live the way our fathers before us lived.”
He moved back to his place and sat down, keeping his sword across his knees. When he spoke, he lowered his voice, so that only those within the circle could hear. “This village must learn the price of war. We must kill many more of them, just as we’ve destroyed their crops and burned their houses. This battle must be fought, not because of what we might gain, but because of what we will lose if we just ride away.”
No one said anything. “Then it is settled,” Thutmose — sin said. “We attack as soon as the wagons and wood have been replaced. For this next attack, nothing will be held back. Every man and boy that can fight will march on the village.” Again he looked around the circle. “And when it is taken, we’ll put any survivors to the sword and tear down every wall and house until there’s nothing left but the mud from the river.”
Eskkar got less than two hours’ sleep, the pain in his back wakening him. The window showed only the faintest light in the dark sky to indicate the approaching dawn. Despite the lack of sleep his thoughts seemed as alert as if he’d slept the whole night. But every muscle in his body protested as he began moving about. The bandage on his arm had slipped a little. He ran his fingers over it, but felt no traces of fresh blood.
Slipping quietly from the bed so as not to waken Trella, he dressed quickly. He gathered his sword and entered the workroom, where he un-fastened the outer door as a yawning Annok — sur was about to knock and awaken her mistress.
Esk kar held his finger to his lips. “Good morning, Annok — sur,” he whispered, “I’ll wake her. Can you bring breakfast up, and send Bantor and Gatus to me when they arrive?”
“Captain, Gatus just sent word. He asks that you come to the gate.”
He stared at her but she had nothing more to add. “Bring breakfast for Trella, then. Make sure she eats before she goes out.” Esk kar returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. The movement made Trella turn over but she remained asleep. A bit more light came through the windows, just enough to illuminate her. She lay with a hand flung up over her head, her dark tresses scattered across the pillow.
When she slept, she seemed so young, too young for the burden she carried. Her life and future hung on the same thread as his, the thread he’d created in his pride when he told Nicar the barbarians could be beaten.
Nothing must harm her, Esk kar decided. The barbarians, the nobles, nothing and no one must hurt her again. First he would defeat the barbarians, then he would increase his power over the nobles. He swore it by all the gods he didn’t believe in. Esk kar wanted to kiss her but worried that his touch might awaken her. Better to let her have a few more moments of peace.
By the time he was downstairs he’d put all thoughts of Trella behind him. He stopped in the kitchen where he drained a cup of water and picked up a round loaf of bread that he chewed as he went outside in the early morning sun. Esk kar nodded to his guards, checked briefl y with those at the command table, then mounted the ever — present horse. He rode slowly out of the courtyard, his guards jogging after him, the loaf of bread held firmly in his hand.
Few villagers had risen early this morning. Many had stayed up late last night celebrating the victory over the Alur Meriki. Another victory.
Like thieves in the night, he and his men had crawled on their bellies into the barbarian camp, stampeded some horses, and burned a few wagons.
Then they’d run for their lives. Today the whole village might pay the price for our “victory.” Esk kar kept these black thoughts to himself. When he reached the gate, he swung down from the horse, tossing the halter to a half — awake boy.
Climbing to the top of the tower he found Gatus sitting on a stool so tall that he could see more than if he were standing. His second in command had traces of mud over his body, and Esk kar realized that Gatus had remained on the wall all night.
The rising sun shone in Esk kar’s eyes as he peered into the east. “Well, Gatus, I see you’ve missed another night’s sleep. What is it now?” He tore the remaining bread in half and handed it to Gatus, who took the still — warm bread gratefully.
“Last night, a few hours after you left, we saw something.” Gatus took a bite of the bread, then chewed it thoughtfully before continuing. “Another fire broke out in their camp. Not near where you burned the wagons, but close to the center of the plain. We watched it for a while and, just as it disappeared, we heard sounds of fighting. That went on for a few moments, then stopped. Then just before
dawn, we thought we heard fighting again.”
Putting the last of the bread into his mouth, Esk kar shaded his eyes as he scanned the horizon. Thin trails of smoke still rose from behind the low hill where he’d burned the wagons but he saw no other sign of fi re. Many men on horseback moved about on the low hills, and he could see dust trails from those out of sight. As he watched, a line of riders appeared on the top of the slope where Esk kar had crouched last night, about twenty in all. Clan leaders come to inspect the damage in daylight and plan their next move.
“We’ve made them very angry, I think.” Esk kar kept his eyes on the riders as they moved slowly across the hilltop. “They lost horses and wagons last night, as well as much of the wood they’ve gathered in the last few weeks. Most of all, they’ve been humiliated, raided by dirt — eaters. The warriors and chiefs are very angry at their leader or whoever they decided to blame for our attack. They may have tried to kill Thutmose — sin. If they succeeded, we’ll be facing a new chief, one who may have entirely different ideas. Or Thutmose — sin may have blamed some of the other chiefs and attacked them.”
Gatus finished off his portion of the bread. “Well, the more they fight each other, the better I like it. Or maybe they’ve had enough and will move on? I don’t suppose anything will happen today, do you think?”
Esk kar wasn’t about to take any chances. “Not today. But I’ll stay here for a while. Send Sisuthros to me. Then you get some sleep.”
Gatus opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “Very well.
I’ll go to your house to sleep. Bantor is well enough to manage the command post for a few hours.” He waited a few moments, but Esk kar didn’t say anything, just stared across the plain. Shrugging, Gatus left the wall, after first telling his men where he would be and when he should be called.
Esk kar scarcely noticed his departure. There seemed to be an unusual amount of activity in the barbarian camp. Without thinking, he sat down upon the now — vacant stool. Small clouds of dust hung everywhere, signifying riders moving from place to place, most of them out of eyesight. He tried to put himself in Thutmose — sin’s place.
If I survived a challenge to my authority, I’d have to attack the village. For Thutmose — sin to abandon the siege now would be to admit failure, and too many had died in too many clans to allow that. Tempers and hatreds would have exploded in fury last night, and blood would have to spill to settle the score. So if Thutmose — sin remained in control, Esk kar decided, then we can expect an all — out assault today, or more probably, tomorrow.
The Alur Meriki would first try to replace some of the lost wood, and they might need more time to round up their horses.
Esk kar felt certain about one thing. If… when the attack came, it would be unrestrained. The barbarians had more than enough men for one final assault. Every man would be flung at the walls, and it would be victory or disaster for the Alur Meriki. For if they failed, their ranks would be so diminished that other large villages or clans would seize the opportunity to oppose them.
But if Thutmose — sin had been removed, then maybe… there might be a chance that the new leader would move on. The new ruler, whoever he might be, could blame all the failures on his predecessor, could say it was too late in the season to keep fighting, could claim they’d be back in a few years to take their revenge, anything. The Alur Meriki had enough reasons to satisfy those ready to abandon the fight. The clan would move on, and the new leader would be busy for the next few years consoli-dating his power. And there would be plenty of wives, concubines, and horses to distribute to his new supporters-the former property of those killed.
So Orak’s best hope was that Thutmose — sin was dead. Esk kar thought about that, wishing for some way to kill the leader of the Alur Meriki, hoping that some clansman had solved his problem with a knife in Thutmose — sin’s back.
Esk kar stayed on the wall the rest of the day. No attack came, a fact he attributed completely to the raid. At least, no attack on the village. Late in the afternoon, for a few moments, some of those watching the plain claimed to hear more sounds of fighting in the enemy’s camp. But nothing could be seen, and Esk kar heard nothing.
Nevertheless, even if there were no actual fighting, plenty of sharp words and accusations would be exchanged by clan leaders unhappy with Thutmose — sin’s performance. And warriors don’t fight well when their leaders quarrel, he knew, both from his own experience and the old days under the command of Ariamus.
The sun finally set. The soldiers maintained their vigilance throughout the night, taking no chances. Gatus again walked the walls much of the night. Still the pause gave Esk kar time to catch up on his sleep, though dawn found him on the wall again, anxiously watching the hilltops. But the morning sun brought nothing new, and that day passed as well, with no noticeable activity.
With the arrival of darkness, however, the men on the walls saw the lights from campfires reflecting up into the darkness, and these seemed to burn brighter and longer into the night than usual. The men watched and waited throughout the early evening.
Finally Esk kar turned to Sisuthros and Gatus. “I think our waiting is over. Tomorrow… I think it will be tomorrow. They’ll come with the dawn.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Sisuthros answered grimly.
27
A small lamp in the workroom gave more smoke than light, its oil nearly gone. Trella paused to add more, enough to see by. She opened the door to their bedroom and listened to Esk kar’s breathing. At least he’d gotten a few hours of restless sleep. She slipped into bed and put her arms around her husband, letting her body wake him.
Enough light reached the bed to see Esk kar’s eyes open. For a moment he sighed contentedly. Then he tried to sit up, as he remembered what today would bring.
She kept her arms around him. “Stay a moment. It’s more than two hours before dawn.” She buried her face against his chest and held him with all her strength.
He kissed her gently, then turned on his side, keeping one arm around her. “I have to go.”
Trella heard men talking and moving about downstairs, as they prepared for the battle. She knew the sounds called to him and that she must let him go.
“How long have I slept? You said you…”
“Almost three hours. You’ve scarcely slept in three days. Gatus told me to let you sleep.” Her arms couldn’t prevent him from sitting up.
“I must go, Trella. The men need to see me before the battle.”
“I know, husband. Just remember to take care. There’s no need for you to take chances. Let others earn the glory today.”
She stood and watched as he laced up his sandals.
Esk kar took his time, knotting them securely, then stood and buckled on his sword. He hadn’t undressed before lying down. “This is the last battle. For five months we’ve prepared, and now it’s upon us. Today we either win or fall.”
Trella shook her head. “There is never a last battle. Remember that and you won’t act rashly.” She came into his arms and pressed against him, then lifted her arms around his neck. He tried to kiss her, but she clung so tightly all he could do was brush his lips against her forehead.
“Trella, I… you have to let me go.”
She said nothing, but loosened her hold on him and stepped aside, her head downcast.
“Take care for your own self, and remember what I’ve told you if we fail.”
He spoke the words calmly, but their meaning brought pain to her heart. She stood there as he turned and left the room. Trella heard his steps down the stairs. “May the gods go with you, husband, in all the places of danger that you will fi nd today.” She spoke the prayer aloud, but more to herself than to the gods. The tears came, but briefly. She had her own duties to attend to.
Esk kar went first to the well, quenching his thirst and washing his face in the flickering torchlight before returning to the kitchen. A single lamp showed Bantor, Alexar, Grond, and a few others seated at
the table. Esk kar joined them, and they picked at the cold fowl and drank the weak ale the women set out. No one spoke, each in his thoughts, occasionally glancing at the tiny window to see if the stars had begun to dim. Each, as he finished eating, took chunks of bread and stuffed them in his pouch before leaving.
There might not be another chance to eat the whole long day.
In the courtyard Esk kar found Sisuthros making sure each man knew his duty and station. Sisuthros hadn’t slept during the night, offering to let the others sleep while he patrolled the walls and prepared its defenders.
In the fl ickering light, Esk kar thanked him for the long night’s work, then clasped his arm in farewell.
Orak slept little during the night, as word spread the barbarians were mustering their forces and would attack at dawn. The commanders and village leaders inspected their men and ordered everyone to be at their station before first light. The cooking fires started early. Villagers and soldiers ate tasteless meals in silence and near — darkness, then drank again from the water jars in preparation for a long, hard day.
Parents, husbands, and lovers said their goodbyes, their voices low, faces grim, their futures uncertain. The whole village felt fear and tension.
By sundown their fate would be decided.
The water wheels had run steadily since yesterday, filling the ditch with as much water as possible. Corio no longer worried about weakening the base of the wall. Senior men inspected weapons, checked water stores, and made sure each man knew his place. Archers strung fresh bowstrings on their bows, then tested them by torchlight. The rasp of sharpening stones grated endlessly, as men honed swords and axes to fighting edges.
Followed by his bodyguards, Esk kar strode to the main gate. Gatus and the other commanders had begun one last circuit of the village. They’d make sure all the men stood ready and at their posts, their weapons, equipment, and tools at hand.