by Sam Barone
“The nobles have talked about building such a wall before, Esk kar, but nothing ever came of it. There was no need, and the cost and effort were too great. Now the barbarians come. Now, there is a need.”
“Remember, Nicar, we have to consult the masons to see if such a wall can even be built.”
“Yes, of course. What else is needed?”
“Second, all the huts and farmhouses outside this new wall must be torn down, removed completely, the ground leveled and stripped bare, and the farms and fields flooded again. The marshland mud will slow the horses down, and force them to approach the village from the land in front of the main gate.
“Third, every man must be trained to fight. That means training and arming as many archers as possible. Only the bow can drive off the Alur Meriki. We’ll need thousands of arrows and hundreds of bows, and men will have to train every day until they can hit their targets with confidence, while standing atop the wall. Also, there must be training with axes, spears, and swords, and finally with rocks to hurl at the attackers and forked staves to push their ladders away from the wall. Even the women and children must work and fight. We’ll have to train every day, build every day, and prepare for every possible attack. Everyone must work as they’ve never done before, so that when the barbarians arrive, all will be ready.”
Esk kar took a deep breath and sipped from his wine cup, grateful that he’d gotten the words out with scarcely a stumble.
“Orak must be stocked with food and water, enough for everyone for two or three months. The rest of the herds must be sent far away, across the river, where they’ll be safe. That will take men away from the village, as well as soldiers to guard them from bandits. The animals will be a tempting target. When the barbarians arrive, they must learn that we have no horses for plunder, no cattle, goats, or sheep.”
Nicar looked closely at him, sensing something more was coming. “And what else must we do?”
Esk kar was ready. “The slaves. We’ll need the slaves to labor as they’ve never done before, and we won’t have the time or men to guard them.
They must work on their own, and use all their skill. You’ll have to promise to free the slaves, Nicar, at least some of them, so they’ll have an incentive to work and fight.”
Nicar’s wine cup stopped halfway to his lips. “Free the slaves! You can’t be serious. After what we’ve paid for them? And if we free the slaves, how will we keep the village running?”
“Not all the slaves. Only those we need to work on the defenses, probably no more than half of them. You ran the village before you had so many slaves, didn’t you? Besides, if the barbarians come, you’ll lose your slaves along with your lives or be enslaved yourself. Either way, your slaves will be gone.
“If we succeed, instead of slaves you’ll have servants that you can pay until you find new slaves to replace them. Without the promise of freedom, Nicar, they won’t work very hard or they’ll slip away into the night, thinking that even the barbarians might treat them better. Don’t forget, many will die, both villagers and slaves, and you’ll need to replace them anyway.
“And one last thing, Nicar. You must speak for the entire village and the Five Families. I can organize the defense and determine what needs to be done, but there must be no quarrelling or arguing amongst the nobles or from any of the leading tradesmen. We must speak in one voice to everyone, so that all can see we’re determined to resist and to win. And whatever I ask for in the defense of the village, you’ll have to supply. I will not argue with you or anyone else. My orders must be obeyed by all, and without question. Even by you, Nicar. So I ask you. Do you speak for the Five Families?”
For a moment, Nicar looked a little taken aback by Esk kar’s demands.
“You ask for much. But there is truth in your words. The many quarrels among the Five Families are public gossip. They must be put aside to defend Orak.”
“And you will speak for all the Families?”
“Yes, I think they can all be persuaded, all except House Drigo. He will likely choose to go his own way.”
Esk kar didn’t think Noble Drigo could be dismissed so lightly. For the last few months, in Orak’s day — to — day affairs, Drigo’s men often acted as if their master alone ruled the village. Even Esk kar, who rarely had any interest in gossip, knew that Drigo contested with Nicar for authority, that Drigo constantly tried to sway the other Families to his side. So far, most preferred Nicar, who was certainly a more just and even — handed administrator.
“And if you cannot control Noble Drigo, what then?” Esk kar asked.
“He’s powerful, and many will follow whatever path he chooses.”
Nicar stared at him again, openly sizing him up. “It seems you are not quite as simple a soldier as I’ve been told.” He drank from his cup. “If you can develop a good plan to defend Orak, we may not need Drigo and his gold. Let me worry about Drigo.” Nicar waved his hand as if dismissing the matter. “But afterward, if we succeed in fending off the barbarians, what will we owe you, Esk kar?”
“Not that much, Nicar,” he laughed. “I have no grand ambitions. The Five Families will become six, and I’ll be your equal in the running of the village. Each of you will give me two ingots of gold, enough for me to set up my own house. For that, I will remain in Orak and we can start the planning for the barbarians’ next visit, because they’ll be back in another five or ten years. If we’re lucky enough to drive the Alur Meriki off, they will never forget the insult. They have long memories. They’ll be back someday, and we’ll have to fight them again. So I think you’ll need me again, and the sooner we start preparing, the better.”
Nicar shook his head. “So much waste and destruction. It would be better for all of us if they’d leave us alone.”
“They can never do that, Nicar. They live by taking what they need from others. It’s the only way they know. So, they will be back. This struggle may never be truly over until one or the other of us is destroyed.”
Nicar obviously hadn’t considered that the barbarians might return.
He said nothing for a moment, spinning the wine cup in his hands.
“One more thing, Esk kar. Some may wonder why you’d fight against your own kind. What would I say to them?”
“Tell them the truth, that they’re not my kind anymore. When you leave the clans, your life, your memory… all gone.” For the first time Eskkar’s voice took on a hard edge, an intensity of raw emotion. “I want… even your gold isn’t enough to make me fight them. I want the chance to avenge my family’s murder, to kill enough of them to satisfy their spirits.
This is the only chance I’ll ever have.”
Nicar nodded in understanding. “Enough talk about the past and the future. Do you think we can defeat the barbarians, if we do all that you ask?”
Esk kar met his gaze. “No village has ever surrounded itself with a wall such as the one we will need. I don’t even know if such a wall can be built before they arrive. But if it can, then we may have a chance. Whether it’s a good chance or not, we’ll find out in the coming months. If we put our hearts and bodies into the preparation, we may have a fair chance, perhaps an even chance. If we don’t prepare well, then we know what will happen.
“That is the best hope I can offer you, Nicar. As I said, the price you will pay to defend the village may be more than it’s worth or more than you can afford. And even then, we may fail. You’ll be risking more than just your gold. All who have tried to resist the Alur Meriki have been destroyed.”
Nicar drained the wine cup, then set it down. “So we must build a wall around Orak if we wish to resist.” He sat there, drumming his fingers on the table for several moments, before he lifted his eyes. “I can see, Esk kar, that you’re honest. You don’t promise success. If you had, I wouldn’t have believed you.” He looked at his guest for a few more moments, as if making up his mind. “You don’t have a woman, do you?”
The odd question surprised Esk kar, though he gathered
that Nicar already knew the answer. Women, good ones at any rate, were both scarce and expensive in Orak, and fathers did not approve marriages for eligible daughters to soldiers with no futures, let alone to those who didn’t have two coins to rub together.
“No, I haven’t been able to afford one yet,” Esk kar replied, unable to keep a hint of embarrassment from his voice. Once a week or so, Esk kar spent a copper coin for one of the girls at the alehouse, or visited the prostitutes who sold themselves at night along the river’s edge. Nearly a month had passed since his last visit.
“I received some new slaves a few weeks ago,” Nicar continued. “One is a girl, still a virgin, I’m assured. I think she’s about fourteen, not pretty, but attractive enough. I was going to bed her myself when I found the time… and the will,” he added, with a smile.
“Unlike most women, she can count, as well as read and write the symbols, and she seems levelheaded enough. I will give her to you, and I think you’ll find her useful for many things in the coming months. She’ll be much more than a simple bed companion. You’ll need someone to help you with the planning and to keep you out of the alehouse at night.”
Even through his surprise, Esk kar knew it to be an exceptional and costly gift, given graciously and with subtle advice. “I thank you, Nicar.”
Esk kar suddenly realized what else it meant-that Nicar had agreed to his demands.
“All of us will need your advice and guidance, Nicar. If we are to do this, we’ll need many men working together. So, again, I thank you.”
“You may not have the wit of Ariamus, but you can think and I know you can fight,” Nicar replied. “The rest you can learn, and I and the others will help you. Not many men can know and do everything. Most of us need to learn to accept all the help we can be given. Don’t let your pride stand in the way of what you can accomplish with the help of others.”
Nicar remained silent for a moment. “Know one other thing, Esk kar.
If we succeed, then I will owe you much, more than I and my family can repay. And if we fail, then let us fail together.
“I meet with the nobles the day after tomorrow, when Noble Nestor returns from the south. Until then, you are captain of the guard. When we meet, we’ll confirm our decision to resist the barbarians. Take the girl tonight and move into Ariamus’s quarters. I’ll send you some gold tomorrow so you can buy whatever else you need. In the next few weeks, I’m sure there will be a house available for you. The other Families will provide servants as well, to help free you from everything except the defense of the village.”
Esk kar understood his meaning about the house. Despite what Nicar said, many would flee Orak in the coming months. Esk kar suddenly understood that a bond had formed between them. They shared at least one trait-neither gave up easily. They would live or die in this together.
No matter how it ended, Esk kar knew that his life had changed-that he would never again be the simple warrior who lived by his sword for so many years. Now he’d have to learn to think, plan, prepare defenses, and train people. Not for the first time that day, he wondered whether he was up to the task.
But he’d taken the first step-persuading Nicar that he could save Orak. To accomplish that, he would have to change even more, become someone different, someone better than the drunken fool who passed out last night in the tavern. That would never happen again, he swore.
Nicar stood, signaling the end of the dinner. “Then it’s settled. We’ll do what’s never been done! We will save the village.”
Esk kar smiled, already thinking of the girl who’d accompany him to the barracks. “No, Nicar, if we succeed, we’ll use the new word and call it the City of Orak.”
“Let us pray for that day,” Nicar said. He reached out his hand and clasped Esk kar’s arm, sealing the agreement. Then the merchant strode to the door, calling to his wife, speaking quietly to her before they disappeared into the living quarters.
After a few moments Esk kar heard women’s voices raised in heated debate, followed by an anguished cry, cut short by the sharp sound of a slap. Then Nicar’s wife reappeared, dragging a girl by the shoulder. Creta pushed the girl in front of Esk kar.
“Here’s the slave, Esk kar. Her name is Trella.” Creta’s voice now cut like a rasp. “Of course, you can change it to anything you like. I suggest you give her a good beating to make sure she understands her place. She’s willful and proud.”
The girl flashed a look of hatred at her former mistress, and Esk kar guessed Nicar might have more than one reason for getting rid of the girl.
Life in the rich homes of the Five Families might be more complicated than he’d thought.
Esk kar took a step and lifted up the girl’s chin. She had large, dark brown eyes that refused to meet his gaze. Her slightly darker skin, clear except for a few faint scars from the pox on both cheeks, told him she came from the lands to the south. Her narrow face held a thin nose and small even teeth, hiding behind a trembling lip that still held a drop of blood in the corner, where Creta had slapped her. She looked rather thin and plain, but she had one treasure. Her hair, dark and heavy, fell in a wave around her shoulders.
He saw the fear in her eyes, the fear that came to any slave handed from one man to another. Esk kar had seen that look many times before.
She moved her head away from his hand and returned her gaze to the floor.
Suddenly the image of another girl, about the same age and just as frightened, came to mind. A few years after leaving the clan, he’d befriended Iltani, saving her life and protecting her from rape and worse. She’d repaid that debt by giving herself to him, his first time with a woman. And twice afterward, she risked her life to save his, an obligation he’d never managed to repay. Perhaps the gods had sent Iltani’s image, to remind him of that debt.
“Listen to me, girl,” he said, again lifting her chin, and keeping his tone gentle. “Don’t be afraid. You’re to help me, and I will need your help. Do you understand?”
Her eyes turned up to him and Esk kar held her gaze, seeing this time the strength that lay behind the dark, wide — set eyes. Her lips stopped trembling and she gave him a quick nod, the movement making her hair swirl gently around her face.
“Good. Come with me, then.” A thought struck him and he turned to Creta. “Does she have anything of her own that she should bring?”
“She has some things,” Creta admitted grudgingly. “She can return for them in the morning.”
Whatever trinkets or possessions she might have would be long gone by morning, taken either by Nicar’s wife or the other servants. He started to turn away, hesitated, then faced Creta once again. “A cloak. She’ll need her cloak against the night’s chill. She does have one, doesn’t she?” He made his tone reasonable. “Or perhaps you could find one for her?”
Nicar’s wife must have remembered her husband’s words. She pursed her lips, then gave in. “She has no cloak of her own,” Creta admitted. “But I’ll give her one of mine.”
She clapped her hands and another girl appeared almost instantly, no doubt standing just out of sight beyond the doorway. Creta told the servant to fetch a particular cloak. In moments the girl returned, carrying a faded and patched cloak that looked serviceable enough.
Esk kar took the garment and draped it around the girl’s shoulders.
“Thank your mistress for her gift, Trella.” He watched her closely. Now he’d start to learn what kind of girl he had acquired.
Trella looked first at Esk kar as if trying to read his face. He said nothing, just stared at her. The silence began to lengthen. Then Trella turned to Creta and bowed her head. “Thank you, mistress.” She spoke softly, her words properly servile.
When she straightened up, she looked at Esk kar as if to say, “Is that what you wanted?” and he found himself hiding a smile. He turned to Creta and bowed low. “And I thank you, Mistress Creta. The food you prepared was delicious and well served.” He’d rehearsed the unaccustomed words earlier and was h
appy to get them out without stumbling.
Out of the house and into the lane, Esk kar laughed aloud as he took Trella’s hand, fi nding it soft and warm in his own as he guided her toward the barracks. “Did you have a cloak of your own?”
A shake of her head answered him, as she kept her eyes on the rough ground underfoot.
“Good, then. At least you got something from her.”
The girl stole a glance at him, then looked down again.
Esk kar’s thoughts raced ahead to the big bed in Ariamus’s chamber and he quickened his pace, glancing up at the stars. Only a few hours before midnight. He’d have to be up before dawn.
Turning the corner at the alehouse, he nearly stopped in surprise. Two torches lit the common area outside the barracks, illuminating a crowd of soldiers, their women, and villagers. Apparently they all had nothing better to do at this late hour than wait for his return. Automatically Esk kar took a quick count and guessed there might be as many as sixty villagers mixing with the soldiers, probably a hundred people all told.
All thoughts of enjoying Trella in his warm bed now vanished, as he remembered his promise. He would have to say something, a prospect that dried his mouth and put an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
Everyone started speaking as soon as they spotted him. A rush of men surrounded him, hands picking at his tunic, eager questions tossed at him like stones. Esk kar knew he must speak to silence the crowd, but his mind remained as empty as last night’s wine cup as he reached the barracks, stopping only because the soldiers waiting there blocked the doorway. He had to face the crowd.
Esk kar felt his hand squeezed hard and realized the boisterous crowd had frightened Trella. He looked down at her and saw the question in her eyes.
“What do they want?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
He tightened his lips before answering. “Nothing, girl. They’re only afraid of what is coming. They think the barbarians are already camped outside the gate.” Somehow her worry gave him strength, and he faced the crowd. “Stay here,” he commanded Trella, letting go of her hand and moving a few steps toward one of the mounting stones, then standing on it to rise a little above the crowd.
