by Sam Barone
He swung down from the gate but his sandal caught in the crosspiece and he lost his balance. Only Gatus’s strong arm kept him upright. Gods, if he’d fallen on his ass, the villagers would have laughed themselves senseless. He and Trella went back into the house, the door already opened wide by the waiting servant. When it closed safely behind them, he breathed a sigh of relief, then looked up to find Nicar walking toward him.
“Well, Esk kar, what other surprises do you have for us? Perhaps you should tell us what you’ve decided to do. I begin to wonder what I have unleashed.”
Despite the irony in Nicar’s words, Esk kar heard respect in them as well.
“Nothing you need worry about, Nicar. I only want to hear your decision. Do we stay and fight, or do we run?”
“The Families have decided to stay and lead the defense of Orak,” Nicar answered, raising his voice and knowing his words would be heard and repeated. “You’ll be in command of Orak until the barbarians have been driven off.” He lowered his voice so only Esk kar and Trella could hear.
“Though I wonder what will happen then.” Nicar shrugged resignedly. “It doesn’t matter. What must we do now?”
“Take the nobles to the marketplace. Let everyone see that all are united in this. You know better than I what to say. After all of you speak, then I’ll tell them how hard it’s going to be.”
Nicar nodded, pulling at his beard. “Is there anything else?”
“No, nothing. I’m sure there will be…” Trella grasped his arm and whispered in his ear. “Oh, yes… I think you should send men to take possession of Drigo’s house and goods. We can begin paying for the defense of Orak with his gold.”
“Yes, an excellent suggestion, Esk kar.” Nicar glanced at Trella. “That may soften the blow to the Families as well.” Nicar hesitated for a moment.
“And what do you want from Drigo’s goods for yourself?”
“I want nothing to do with his gold.” Murdering men for their goods might bring down the anger of the gods, or so the priests said, and he’d tried to avoid their wrath as much as possible since he ceased his raiding days. “But his house is large and will make an excellent headquarters for my men, as well as a place to begin storing our weapons. When you have emptied it, perhaps you’ll approve our using it.”
“And after this is over, you’ll keep it, I suppose,” Nicar answered. “Well, why not? I did promise you a house, though I wasn’t expecting it to be larger than my own.”
“Nicar, if I live long enough to keep his house, I’ll pay you and the other Families fairly for it. You can tell that to the nobles, if any ask.”
Nicar studied him for a moment. “You continue to surprise me, Esk kar.
Take the house at sundown tomorrow. That will give us time to search it and discover Drigo’s hiding places.”
Nicar faced Trella once again. “I wonder if I made a mistake in giving you away. Your laughter started the killing as surely as a blow. For a moment I thought you both planned it in advance.” He shook his head. “No, that can’t be true. Young Drigo, the fool, brought it on himself.”
Nicar turned back to Esk kar. “Though you didn’t need to kill his father.
You could have…”
“If I hadn’t, he would have killed me. If not today, then soon enough.”
Esk kar had acted instinctively, but he knew he’d done the right thing. Father and son both had to die.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Nicar agreed reluctantly. “Anyway, it’s too late to think about such matters. Let’s go to the marketplace and reassure the people. We’ve much to tell them, if we’re going to convince them to stay and fight.”
It was five hours after sundown before Esk kar blew out the flame from the lamp. Since the morning, they’d not had a moment alone in the long day that changed Esk kar’s fortune more than any day since his birth. He crawled under the blanket, where her waiting arms folded around him. For a long time they held each other, the events of the day still a whirlwind in their minds.
“We made it through the day, thanks to you, Trella.”
That was true enough. She had probably saved his life by warning him about Naxos. And by provoking Drigo at the right time, she’d guided the outcome as surely as his own actions.
In the market, Nicar had spoken to the crowd. He promised grain, silver coins, and new or better houses for those who stayed and fought. He guaranteed the craftsmen protection in their trade. Food and grain would be stockpiled in the village, enough to feed everyone until after the danger had passed. And finally, slaves and bound servants who worked on the wall would earn their freedom in return, and their owners would receive compensation.
Shouts of anger from some and cheers from the slaves greeted that announcement, but Nicar stood his ground. Orak had to survive, and the village’s defense needed skilled men. He repeated the warning that those trying to leave with critical tools or slaves would be stopped.
The other nobles and even Orak’s two priests spoke to the crowd. They all answered questions and stressed the need to stay and defend their homes and families.
Only Nicar’s pronouncement that Esk kar would be in charge of the village’s defense put the crowd at ease.
“Your words pleased the villagers, Esk kar. I could see they trusted you.”
In the market Trella had sat at his feet, her back to the crowd, to make sure that he didn’t forget anything of importance. He’d warned the people about the dangers of leaving Orak, the risk of traveling on the roads, and the bandits that would follow the barbarians. Again and again he assured them the barbarians could be driven away and that a wall would protect them.
He promised he would defend all of them.
And it had worked. In the end, most of the crowd roared approval of both Nicar and Esk kar as men who would save their families and their lives. They ignored Esk kar’s origins; he was one of them now, their protector. The shouting and talking continued long after Esk kar and the nobles left the marketplace.
“I hope we persuaded enough of them to stay. Many will need to work on the wall.”
Trella stayed silent for a moment, then clasped him tightly again before she spoke.
“I’ve never seen men killed like that before… I mean… so suddenly.
In Carnax I watched an execution, but I never saw men… killing like that… it was more bloody than I expected.” She pushed closer to him, moving her leg over his, rubbing herself against him. “And you could have been killed. When Drigo rushed at you with the dagger, I thought you would die. And I provoked him, wanted him to attack you, laughed at him until he lost control.”
“Men die all the time. And men like Drigo and his foolish child, they die more easily because they know nothing of real fighting. I’ve fought many battles, and I’ve learned something from all of them.”
“What of Naxos? He was no pampered brat, and he was standing close enough to you.”
Her concern was real. She’d been truly frightened for him.
“Naxos was different, but he was already beaten when the archers rose up behind me. If his men had been trained fi ghters, they would have rushed us when the first arrow struck, and the bowmen would have had no targets. Instead they just stood there, and their will to fight vanished. Killing him only made it easier to provoke Drigo and control his men.”
“And what would you have done if they had attacked you?”
He laughed softly in her ear as his hand found her breast. The touch excited him.
“Naxos and his guards were bullies, used to swaggering through the streets and breaking villagers’ heads. Guards don’t expect to fight archers.
That’s why they frightened so easily.”
But that arrow had passed closer than he liked to admit, flying just above his head. The archer and Jalen had split one of Esk kar’s new gold coins as a reward, an act of generosity he already regretted. A few silver coins would have sufficed. And that was in addition to the three silver coins he’d promised each of the a
rchers.
She shivered under his touch, and her hand moved from around his neck to begin stroking his chest. “Now the people will follow you. Even the Families will do what you say, now that Drigo is gone.” She moved her hand down to his hip, letting her fingers explore.
“Drigo would have made himself ruler of Orak. It was better that he died quickly, rather than stand in our way.”
Her touch made him even more eager, and his worries faded as his desire hardened. The picture of Drigo running onto his sword flashed into his mind, and that image made him even more excited. Killing often did that, he knew, made a man lust for a woman, any woman, simply to prove that you still lived after the fighting stopped, that you’d survived and someone else was dead.
And what a woman was in his bed tonight, he thought, as his hands began to roam her body-one more precious than any in the village. Perhaps the killings had excited her as well. Women often became aroused after seeing a kill. She had, after all, helped bring them about.
The warmth in the bed grew, and not all of it from the thick blanket.
Trella’s mouth found his for a long kiss that left them both breathless.
“And what plans does my master have for me in the morning?” she whispered seductively, as her hand reached down to touch his manhood.
“Tomorrow will take care of itself.” He rolled onto her stomach, unable to restrain himself any longer and feeling her legs part easily beneath him. “Tonight you have much more important duties.”
The next morning Esk kar’s regular habits asserted themselves and he rose before daybreak. He dressed quietly and left Trella asleep in the warm bed. At the well he washed his hands and face in the cold water as the first rays of the sun reached over the eastern hills and covered Orak with its soft light. A long drink from a second bucket satisfied his thirst.
Then he strode toward the barracks room to wake the men. But the door stood open, and Gatus, dressed and wearing a short sword, emerged as Esk kar approached.
“I just woke them up, Captain. The lazy brutes will be surly all day. Not many went to bed early last night.”
“Thank you, Gatus.” His second in command must have arisen even before Esk kar. They went over the orders for the day as men still half — asleep stumbled forth into the sunlight. Nicar had stressed to Orak’s inhabitants that they must remain under control and go about their daily affairs, and the soldiers needed to keep order. Esk kar and Gatus had discussed these plans briefly last night, but Esk kar wanted to make sure the men kept busy for the rest of the day.
By the time Esk kar returned to his room, the sun had cleared the horizon. He found the door open to freshen the air. Trella had laid out their breakfast. Today the bread came from a baker who specialized in a different, more expensive type of grain. A glass bottle, scarcely taller than his thumb and with its own wooden stopper, held a handful of brown salt.
Water from the well now rested inside a graceful pitcher, next to another that contained weak beer. A new clay plate had also joined Esk kar’s increasing supply of worldly goods. Two dark — brown sausages, both larger than yesterday’s, mixed their aroma with that of the still — warm bread.
“Good morning, Trella.” He took her by the shoulders and kissed her, enjoying the taste of her lips. After a moment, she put her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. The sight of the bed only a step away began to tempt him. She must have sensed what he was thinking, because she pushed herself away.
“Good morning, master. You must eat. Corio will be here soon.”
They sat down at the table and began to eat. Trella explained her new arrangement with one of the street vendors. A boy would deliver their breakfast each morning. Esk kar knew he could look forward to more good meals from now on.
When they fi nished, Esk kar and Trella went over ideas about the wall.
They’d discussed this last night, but Esk kar wanted to be sure he didn’t forget anything.
Trella’s ability to anticipate problems continued to impress him. She was teaching him to think like a ruling noble, something his years in and around Orak and other villages had never succeeded in doing.
Not that her wits or ideas mattered to him any longer. If she were deaf and dumb, he’d keep her for her lovemaking. Already he looked forward to the coming night.
A tall shadow appeared in the doorway, darkening the room, and a voice called out. “Greetings, Esk kar. Nicar asked that I speak with you.”
“Enter, Honored Corio.” Esk kar put thoughts of Trella in his bed aside, rose from the table and extended his hand to the master artisan. “Join us at table. Would you care for some wine?”
“Not at present, thank you,” Corio spoke in a deep bass voice. He sat down at the table. The builder’s eyes examined his host closely, no doubt sizing up the new Esk kar, who yesterday had magically been transformed from a common soldier into a leader of men.
“Trella, this is Master Corio, the most important builder in Orak.” Eskkar looked at Corio. “Trella will join us. I find her most useful to keep track of things.”
If Corio found anything strange in that, he said nothing. Esk kar noticed that he did give Trella a thorough look.
“Well, then, Esk kar, what’s all this about a wall? I wasn’t at the marketplace yesterday, but I heard you and Nicar promised a wall would be built around the village, a wall big enough to stop the barbarians.” He tightened his lips. “I meant no disrespect with the word.”
Esk kar laughed. He guessed the thoughts in Corio’s head. Yesterday Esk kar would have bowed to him in the street. Today Corio would worry that he might be killed as easily as young Drigo-and with as little consequence. Esk kar smiled to put the man at ease.
“I’m well civilized, Corio, so use the word as you wish. As you say, I promised a wall to the villagers yesterday, and now I must ask you to help me keep my promise. I need a wall around Orak, high enough and strong enough to keep the barbarians at bay, a wall that I can fill with bowmen to pour arrows into their ranks. Can you build such a wall?”
“Any wall can be built, Captain. How high a wall would be needed?”
“At least twenty — five feet high. That height gives my archers a clear field of fire even as it increases their range. Of course, the wall would have to be strong enough so that it could not be easily pulled down.”
When Corio didn’t respond, Esk kar went on. “The wall need not surround all of Orak. We’d have the outlying houses torn down and the fields on both sides flooded. I rode around the village two days ago. The wall would have to be bigger than the palisade is today, but not too much more.”
Corio shifted a little on the bench, as if he found it uncomfortable. “A wall such as you describe would take at least a year, perhaps as many as two, to build. You expect the barbarians to arrive in five months?”
“Your pardon, Master Corio.” Trella’s voice was properly subservient.
“My master does not mean to tell you what to construct. You are the master builder. He only asks what can be built that will stop the barbarians. Is that not correct, master?”
Eskkar kept his face impassive. “Yes, of course, that’s what I meant. I would not tell the blacksmith how to cast me a sword. I can only ask for what I need.” Esk kar leaned back in his chair. He’d asked Corio, politely and respectfully, for his services. Honor required that the artisan give an honest answer.
Corio drummed his fingers on the table. “Assuming that I remain in Orak to work on such a project, how many men would be available to work on this wall? Also, materials would need to be purchased from other places along the river. And we might need craftsmen from other villages as well.
How much coin is Nicar willing to pay?”
“You’ll have every man in the village, Corio. Everyone, including myself and my soldiers if necessary, plus the hundreds of new men who’ll begin arriving, driven south by the oncoming barbarians. Seven days a week and long into the night. No man will be spared. Even Nicar has promised to labor
on it. And all the gold of the Families will be made available to buy whatever is needed.”
As the master artisan sat contemplating this information, Esk kar did some sizing up of his own. About the same age, Corio stood a few inches shorter, with thinning hair already tinted with gray. His face had almost no trace of a beard, and his eyes gleamed with intelligence. Esk kar knew him to be a skilled craftsman, used to naming his own prices, working at his own pace, and following his own rules. Nothing could compel him to build the wall. They needed a key to get him involved, something that would make him want to stay. Esk kar remembered what Trella had suggested.
“Listen, Corio,” Esk kar leaned across the table, “if we can hold off the barbarians, Orak will be the biggest and most important village for a hundred, no, two hundred miles in every direction. The man who builds the wall that saves Orak will be the most famous and skilled artisan in the land. It will be the wall that defeats the barbarians, not the soldiers, not the villagers. Your fame would spread up and down the river, and you’d be remembered forever. And you’d be well paid for your efforts.”
And if you can’t, Esk kar thought to himself as he settled back, then we’ll all begin planning our departure.
“Master, I recall that Noble Nicar spoke about establishing another House to replace Drigo’s,” Trella added. “If Corio agreed to build such a wall, surely Nicar and the Families would accept him as their equal.”
Nicar had said no such thing, but Esk kar liked the idea anyway. Even he knew of Corio’s reputation as an honest man who treated everyone fairly. Nicar and the Families could do worse. “It’s a chance to join the nobles, Corio. Think of the honor. You’d become one of Orak’s rulers.”
The artisan sat there, glancing from one to the other. “And Nicar has agreed to that?” he asked pointedly.
“If he’s forgotten, my master will remind him.”
Esk kar nodded. “Yes, I’m sure nothing will be denied the man who raises the wall that saves Orak.” We have him now, Esk kar decided-even Corio couldn’t resist the thought of establishing his own noble house.
