by Doug Kelly
Such undertakings were very common; rogue warriors often set forth as mercenaries on expeditions to distant regions when dissatisfied with their own rulers, and they were usually welcomed as an addition to the strength of the clan they sought, but there was a difference with respect to Aton’s journey and that of an experienced mercenary soldier. Seasoned and capable warriors carried with them their reputations, which included either numerous armed servants who were accustomed to battle, considerable treasure, or at least a reputation for prowess on the battlefield. Aton had nothing to offer, and for nothing, he should not expect anything in return.
The world does not recognize a person’s intrinsic worth or potential genius. He would have to prove himself on the battlefield before the world could celebrate his abilities. By persuading warlord Grinald to permit Aton to join the ranks of his army, he could prove his bravery in battle. Only then could he receive his accolades for courage and for designing improved weapons. He believed he had ideas, but he had nothing to point to, or any heroic reputation to offer. He had little hope of success, and his natural arrogance and pride would prevent him from humbly enlisting in the common ranks. The very idea of asking to serve was repugnant to him. However, the thought of his father and cousin, and what they had accomplished in battle pushed him on. He knew his pride was false. His vanity rose from too high an estimate of his own abilities, or perhaps it was the consequence of living for so long secluded from the world around him. He acknowledged to himself that his new world had beaten him down to a new lower level. Remembering that he was only a refugee, he resolved to humble himself, to seek service in Grinald’s military, to lower his rebellious spirit when men above him in rank, but below him in birth and ability, ordered him to obey their commands, and he would submit to the endless indignities of a common soldier's life.
He launched the boat, and had already placed his supplies onboard when it occurred to him that the difficulties he had encountered the previous evening, when he had nearly lost the boat on the mud bank, had arisen from his ignorance of the channels. Therefore, it would be advisable to climb the hill and carefully survey the shore as far as possible before setting sail, and so he did. The warship was still visible from the summit, but while he looked, the intervening islands began to conceal her. The white foam and angry appearance of the distant open water to the east showed how wise he had been not to attempt its exploration. Near the shoreline, the breeze was steady. Where the strong wind struck the surface with all its force, the waves were too large and powerful for his small boat.
From that spot, he could see nearly the whole length of the strait. Looking at it in the direction from which he had come, he saw some boats crossing in the distance. Because they moved so slowly, and appeared to be so broad, he assumed that they were flat-bottomed boats. Straining his eyes, he thought he saw horses onboard. He watched them float cross the straight, and saw one return, as if for more freight. He now noticed that there was a land route by which travelers on foot or wagons came down from the north and crossed the strait using a ferry. It appeared that the ferryboat was not in the narrowest part of the channel, but nearer its western mouth, where the shores were flat and covered with tall grass and shrubs. He wondered why he had not seen the docks or the ferryboats when he had passed. He concluded that the trail was hidden behind the dense growth of reed and cattails, and that the flat-bottom boats, not being in use the previous day, had been drawn up, and perhaps covered to shelter them from the heat of the sun.
The fact that the trading route existed gave additional importance to the establishment of a fort on the shore of the strait. By now, the first flat-bottom boat had obtained another load and was crossing the channel again. It was apparent that a caravan of travelers or merchants had arrived. Men of commerce usually traveled in large groups for safety, and because of that, merchants deserted the trading routes for weeks, and then suddenly covered them. They were rough routes, not roads, just mere paths worn through the forest and over the hills, often impassable during wet weather.
Still further satisfied that he had surmised the original idea of a fortified stockade from a correct estimate of the value of the spot, Aton resolved to keep the idea to himself, and not reveal it to others, who might adopt his plan. With one long last glance at the narrow waterway, he descended the hill, pushed the boat away from shore, and continued his journey.
Now his course was much easier than it had been the previous day, when he had to frequently tack into the wind to make progress. The steady, strong breeze came off the land, from which he was too close for any waves to form. Time passed without any necessity to shift the sail more than a few fine adjustments to follow the shoreline.
He saw several small villages on the shore and passed one narrow bay, which seemed to penetrate into the land deeper than he could actually see. Suddenly, after half a day of sailing, he saw the tower of a sun temple appear from behind the wooded hills. He knew that it must be near the city of Acadia. He had to decide whether he should sail into the harbor, where its inhabitants would see him and he would have to undergo the examination of the harbor guards, or if he should land the boat and go on foot to the city. It only took a moment to decide that travel by foot was the better plan because his boat was of unique construction. Because of that, the guards would notice him, give him unwanted attention by carefully examining his possessions, and then explain that they must tax or take all of his belongings away. Without hesitation, he steered the boat onshore among the bushes and reeds to hide his vessel from unwanted attention.
He pulled her up as far as his strength permitted and took down the sail. She rested near a stand of maple trees. After cutting a bundle of dead reeds, he scattered them over her. That way, occupants of a passing ship, unless it passed very close to the land, would not see her. From a distance, the mast of his boat looked like a dead sapling projecting from pile of scrap wood.
While he ate, he considered how he should proceed. The only weapon with which he excelled was the bow and arrow. To join the ranks of an army, he would need to take those with him and exhibit his skill. He cautioned himself because everyone knew that there was an utter absence of law and justice in a war camp, except for the powerful. They might take his bow, which he greatly valued and had crafted so well from sturdy hedge wood. He also feared they might take his arrows, which he had carefully prepared from the wood of an ash tree, pointed with sharp steel tips, and fletched with red feathers. His bow and arrows were far superior to those used by hunters and common soldiers, and he feared losing them. He had no sword. There remained only his boar spear so that was what he chose to bring with him. He planned to borrow a bow when the time came to display his skill, and hoped that fate would enable him to triumph, even with an inferior grade of weapon.
After resting awhile and stretching his body free of cramps from the long boat ride, he set out with his spear and walked along the shore because the thick growth of trees would not let him penetrate in the direction that he had seen the temple protruding from behind the hills. He had to force his way through the tangled vines and brushwood, which flourished between the trees and the water's edge. It was hard work walking, or rather pushing, through those obstacles, and he sighed with relief when he emerged onto the slope of an open field that only had a few scattered trees obstructing his path. The fact of it being open, and the shortness of the grass, showed at once that shepherds had used it for grazing their animals. Here he walked freely and soon reached the top of the hill. From the summit, Acadia was visible and almost underneath him.
The city stood on a low narrow cape, which ran a long way into the lake. A channel, penetrated the narrow bank on one side of the peninsula near where it joined the mainland, about a bowshot wide. The channel went inland and was lost from sight among the trees. On the other side of the cape, a river ran into the lake. Between the channel and the river, the inhabitants of Acadia had built the city.
A brick wall surrounded the town. There were two large brick towers o
n the landside, which indicated the position of a noble house, the home of a person of great wealth and military influence. Someone who most likely had an affinity for conquest and pillage lived there. Without a doubt, that was Grinald’s residence. Also inside the walls were open places and gardens, with small corrals among them. None of the houses was more than two stories high. Most commonly, houses were thatched or covered with wood shingles, but red tiles covered the roofs behind these walls. Grinald, whose object was to protect his city from being set on fire by flaming arrows, had ordered the protecting tile. The encircling wall had become a dull, dark hue from long exposure to the weather, but the roofs were a brighter red, contrasting against the dingy barriers with the gloss from their kiln-fired glazing. There was no standard on display at either of the towers, from which he concluded that Acadia’s warlord was absent.
Slowly descending toward the city, Aton looked in vain for any means of crossing the channel that extended along the side of it, and in which he counted nearly two dozen merchant vessels anchored, along with a number of smaller boats. The sailors had moored the ship of war, which had arrived earlier, near the main gate of the city that opened near the port. Her crew was busy unloading her cargo. As he walked beside the creek trying to call and get the attention of some boatmen to take him across, the town’s silence confused him. Although the city wall was barely more distant than he could throw a stone, there was none of the usual noise rising above it, as he would expect from a town of Acadia’s size. Looking closer, he noticed that there were only a few people on the merchant vessels, and no dockworkers loading or unloading. The burden of packing the wagons was left to the sailors. Except for the guard marching back and forth on top of the wall, and the crew of the warship, no one else was visible. As the guard paced across, the tip of his spear gleamed in the sunshine. He must have seen Aton, but with military indifference, he did not pay the slightest bit of consideration to Aton’s efforts to attract his attention.
Aton passed the warship, and shouted to the men who were hard at work carrying clusters of arrows and bundles of spears from the vessel and placing them on carts, but they did not reply, and simply ignored him. His common dress and ordinary appearance did not indicate to them any hope of payment if they fetched him with a boat. The disdain they displayed frustrated him and inspired him to be more aggressive in his endeavor.
Looking around to see if there were a bridge or ferry nearby, he caught sight of the sun temple’s tower, which he had observed from far away while sailing. It was a short distance from the city, isolated outside the walls, and it stood on the slope of the hill facing east to greet the sun as it rose each morning. He wandered toward it, because there were usually people in or around the shrines, which were always open day and night. If no one else, the clerics would be there in case some thief attempted to steal the sacred items.
As he ascended the hill, he met a shepherd, whose dogs charged at him because he was a stranger. For a moment, the man seemed motivated to let them attack, because he felt inclined to challenge an outsider. After seeing Aton lower his spear, it probably occurred to him that Aton would kill some of his dogs. He ordered them to heel, and warily acknowledged the stranger. After greeting the shepherd, Aton learned that there was only one bridge across the creek. There were ferries, but only for the people of the city. They allowed no outsiders to cross by ferryboat. Foreigners must enter by the main road over the bridge.
“I want to enter the city,” said Aton.
“They will hang you.”
“Hang me? What do you mean?” he asked, as he tried to control his anger from the comment.
“You’re a stranger here and you look like a slave. Running away from your master is a capital offense.” The shepherd said that as if it was obvious that Aton was a runaway slave and he should have understood that simple fact.
“I am a free man. I do as I please.” He scoffed, started to walk away, and left the shepherd with a snide remark. “You’re the slave; a slave to your dumb animals. Don’t believe me? Try to walk away from your herd, peasant.”
“I could turn you in for a silver coin if I had a mind to.”
Aton lowered his spear in the direction of the shepherd. “But you don’t.”
“Ha! Keep walking to the gallows. The crows will be pecking at your eyes by nightfall.”
The shepherd whistled for his dogs and continued on his way.
Discouraged by the petty aggravations, which seemed to cross his path at every step, he found his way to the ferryboats. As the shepherd had warned, all the boatmen refused to carry a stranger. Even with the offer of a silver coin worth many times the fare, he could not convince them.
Rival clans demanded fees at the gate of every village, town, or city, and those tolls were very profitable to the ruling families. The difference of the coinage caused arguments in its rate of exchange for competing money. Rivaling domains did not accept currency from another region at its face value, so it reverted to its intrinsic value based on the perception of the alloy it contained. In many dominions, it was impossible to obtain silver coinage. There was little or no gold anywhere. Merchants used silver as the standard metal for business transactions, but a great number of people transacted their business using different commodities. Because of the rarity of precious metals and their great value, occasionally daring treasure hunters ventured into the abandoned cities in the forbidden area of the lake and brought forth old coins and jewelry. Most, however, had not returned.
“Then I’ll march across the bridge,” said Aton, who was visibly angry. He had said it to no one in particular, but to all the boatmen in general.
While smiling grimly, the last fisherman that Aton had asked for help replied, “Go ahead, but you’ll never make it.”
“Why not?”
“Because the guard will kill you and put your severed head on the shaft of your spear as a warning to other strangers who approach. You should leave with your head while you still have it.”
Aton looked and saw that he was opposite the extreme angle of the city wall, a point usually guarded with care. There was a guard marching back and forth, carrying a spear, but the sentry might have his bow within reach, or could probably call to another soldier or archer if he needed assistance.
“Maybe I could bribe the guard. A silver coin could change his mind. He would be just as corrupt as any city official.”
The old boatman grinned, but said nothing. He returned to a net that he was mending and answered no further questions. Aton shouted to the guard; the stoic soldier looked once, but continued to ignore him. Aton walked a little way and sat down in the grass. He was deeply discouraged. These continual rejections, petty in themselves, assumed an importance to Aton where a different man would have thought nothing of them. After a while he rose, and wondered to himself how he could become an impressive soldier and a leader of men if he did not have the perseverance, even though he had a peaceful pretense, to enter the city.
Not knowing what else to do, he followed the creek around the foot of the hill. The close bank was steep, the other cultivated with corn. With the greatest display of aerobatic dexterity, a swallow flew over the channel toward a little grove of saplings, while taking bugs in flight on the way. With no other plan to consider, he followed the bird’s direction. Suddenly, the creek wound around under a low cliff, and in a moment, Aton found himself confronted with a town that had no wall. Just a ditch and earthwork defended it, no tower or fortress.
The townspeople had placed the houses close together. There were many more there than he had previously seen, and they were thatched or wood shingled, like those in his own region. The town stood in the midst of the fields, and small shoots of corn came up to the moat. There were many people at work, but he noticed that most of them were old men, bowed and feeble. A little way farther, he saw a second boathouse. He quickened his pace and went toward it.
A stout ferrywoman poled him across without objection. Delighted with her gesture, Aton gave
her the small silver coin. She gasped at the coin and considered it a blessing, if not a small fortune for a person shackled with perpetual poverty. The woman knew exactly what she would purchase with her good omen, an alligator claw necklace that a shaman had blessed with powerful spirits.
She graciously explained to him that he was at an extension of Acadia and that it bore the same name, but this place was an abode of the common people. Those who were rich or powerful had houses in the walled city, and they had painted their shields or coats of arms over their doors. Warlord Grinald’s armed forces guarded the walled section with great care because attackers had made so many attempts against it, to assassinate civic leaders and rival merchants, whose fiery dispositions assisted Grinald’s constant wars that plagued the surrounding territories. Grinald took as much care to prevent a single stranger from entering as if he were the precursor of a hostile army, and if Aton went back to the bridge over the river now, the guards would stop, question, and possibly confine him in prison.
“I have come to enter Grinald’s army,” Aton stated boldly to the old woman.
“He has already marched onward with his warriors, looking for conquest and plunder against a nearby rival.”
“Have they all marched away?”
“For this battle, he needs everyone. Acadia is mostly deserted.”
“How far away are they?”
“Two days walk,” replied the woman.
A citizen called from the opposite bank, and she poled the boat across the channel to fetch another passenger.
“I appreciate your help,” said Aton.
“Scurry along.” To urge him onward, she moved her hand in a sweeping motion, as though it were a broom. “Keep moving. If you stand around, you’ll attract attention. You look like a slave, but you speak like a gentleman. Someone might think you’re a spy. Then it’s the gallows for you.” The woman laughed with a squeal. “Now get along, poor little rich boy.”
