by Sam Barone
Esk kar had run out of words, so he waited in silence, watching as Corio thought some more, the artisan’s fingers again drumming on the tabletop.
The drumming stopped abruptly as Corio stood up. “Excuse me a moment, Captain.” He stepped to the doorway and called out to someone.
Immediately a young man carrying a large cloth pouch rushed to his master. Taking the pouch, Corio returned to the table, extracted a cylinder of leather about the size of a quiver of arrows and removed its cap. Carefully, he withdrew a roll of papyrus and set it out on the table, holding down the corners with four small weights that also came from the pouch.
The papyrus proved to be a map, one that showed the bend of the river and the village. Esk kar had heard of such a thing before but had never seen one. Even the papyrus sheet itself was rare, not something found in the lands nearby, but an expensive item traded on the river.
As for the map, it was as if Esk kar were a bird flying high in the sky, looking down at the Tigris and the village from above. The river flowed in a pale blue stream, but everything else had been stroked in black or brown. The village showed clearly, with a line around it that indicated the palisade. Esk kar caught the excitement in Trella’s eyes and knew that she had never seen such a treasure either.
“This is a map prepared by my slave several weeks ago. After yesterday’s… events, I sent him round the village and palisade again, and then we worked on other details most of the night. So… what’s shown here is correct in most respects.”
Esk kar’s eyes stayed on the map, but he thought about Corio’s words.
Working through the night meant burning lamps or candles, expensive items even for Corio. Even more interesting was that Corio had heard all the talk about the barbarians and the wall, and prepared himself for this meeting. That meant that Corio had the wit to see what would be asked of him even before he’d received the summons. It also meant that Corio had his answers ready-and that Esk kar had better ask the right questions.
Trella kept telling me to anticipate everything. Under the table and out of Corio’s sight, his hands tightened into fists.
“Can you understand the map, Esk kar? Many men have trouble understanding the lines and representations.”
The question had been repeated, and Esk kar focused his thoughts on the map again, looking carefully to see the location of the village, river, docks, palisade, farms, and the two roads that met a mile from the village before joining to carry the traffic into and out of Orak.
“Yes, it’s clear enough.”
He’d scratched out enough maps in the dirt while campaigning, and the papyrus made everything easier to follow. Reaching out with his finger, he started to trace the river.
“Please, Captain, don’t touch the sheet with your hands. The inks may smear from the wetness of your fingers, and papyrus is delicate. Use this pointer.” He handed Esk kar a small piece of soft wood with a bluntly rounded tip.
Taking the pointer, Esk kar identified aloud the key points on the map, even noting the directions for north and south, indicated by an arrow point in one corner. Corio explained the few details he didn’t understand.
A glance at Trella showed she, too, grasped what the map represented.
“You do well, Esk kar,” remarked Corio. “Some men have trouble with the scale of the drawing. Now, show me where you’d have your wall and what you would exclude.”
Esk kar didn’t know what Corio meant by the word scale, but he decided not to ask, especially since he was supposed to understand it. He repeated the word to himself, to remind himself to ask Trella later.
“The wall should go to here, Corio, here, and then back to the river’s edge.” Esk kar touched the map lightly with the pointer. “And these places will be flooded, turned into a swamp. I want to force the barbarians to send their main force at the front of Orak, where my men can kill them from the top of the wall.
“Also, the wall on the river side should be extended as close to the bank as possible so that the barbarians cannot gather enough men to rush the wall from the rear or sides. At the front of the village, I will kill them by pouring arrows down on them.”
Corio sat silent for a long moment before he looked up. “The barbarians have seen wooden fences before and learned to use ladders and ropes against them. They’ll use the same tactics against a wall. If your men are busy using their bows, how will they stop men on ladders?”
“I’ve used such ladders myself, against stockades such as our own. A length of wood with a fork on the end can be used to throw the ladder down. Two women, pushing together, can shove back a ladder, even with a warrior on it.”
Esk kar didn’t bother to add he had firsthand experience with that practice, having been thrown down himself and nearly skewered on his sword in the process. “That’s why we need a true wall, a strong structure that cannot be pulled down or burned, and that gives us enough room to position two or three rows of archers to defend it.”
Corio went into another of his long trances, seeming to stare at the map. Esk kar used the moment to glance at Trella. She appeared confident and gave him a quick smile of encouragement.
The master builder took a deep breath and looked up. “When I came here this morning, I expected to tell you truthfully that it was impossible to build a wall around Orak in the time we have. It is not possible to construct a wall of that length and twenty — five feet high, not in the time available. Such a height would require too much strengthening and support work. Also, the base would require preparation and settling. How about a height of about fifteen feet?”
Esk kar had to stop and think, trying to visualize the height in his mind.
He knew fifteen feet to be a little less than the height of three village men. Barbarians tended to be taller, though most of them stood less than six feet tall. But a fit rider could stand on the back of his horse and jump high enough to pull himself over fifteen feet of wall. Even dead horses and men could be used as stepping stones, and ladders that high could be easily constructed and carried.
“No, that’s not high enough,” Esk kar replied, explaining his reasons, sensing even as he did so that Corio already had an answer.
“I suggest, Esk kar, that we make the wall fourteen or fifteen feet high, but that in the front of the wall, we dig a ditch at least ten feet deep and at least thirty feet wide. That would effectively make the height of the wall the twenty — five feet you want.”
When Esk kar didn’t reply, Corio hastened to add, “It’s much easier to dig a ditch than build a wall. And any villager can dig. The dirt from the ditch can be used to make the mud bricks that will form the wall, and the earth and stones can be used for fill.”
Corio had thought all this through. The idea of a ditch was new, something Esk kar had never seen or heard of. He pictured himself standing at the bottom of such a ditch, looking up. The wall would indeed appear to be twenty — five feet high. “Wouldn’t the ditch weaken the wall at the base?”
Esk kar knew solid earth was needed to support a walled structure.
A smile crossed Corio’s face. “You’re quicker than most men, Esk kar, to think of that. But no, the ditch wouldn’t come all the way to the wall’s base.
It would stop about one long pace away, and we would taper the slope to make it difficult to stand on. The bottom of the wall would be reinforced with stones to make it difficult to dig through. That way, the base of the wall retains its support, and the attackers cannot easily dig the foundation away.”
Corio’s own words seemed to give him some discomfort. “You realize, Captain, that if the barbarians begin digging at the base of the wall, then eventually it will weaken and begin to crumble.”
“If we allow them time to dig at the base of the wall, then we are lost.
Stones, arrows, spears, everything will be used to stop them. No, they’ll not have time to dig.”
“Master Corio,” Trella asked politely, “could the ditch be flooded with water from the river?”
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Corio started to say something, then paused, perhaps remembering again what happened to young Drigo. “No, if we flood the ditch, then the water itself might weaken the earth at the wall’s base. If we had more time, we could line the ditch with stones and logs to reinforce it.” Corio finished with a condescending smile.
Trella hadn’t finished. “Still, Master Corio, if we flooded the ditch just a little, for a day or two, might it not turn the ditch into a river of mud which would rob the attackers of their footing?”
“Yes, but the mud would dry after a few days, and the ditch would be as it was before,” he explained a little less patiently, again drumming his fingers on the table.
Esk kar decided Corio wasn’t used to listening to suggestions from slaves, and young female ones at that.
“Master Corio, what if we were to flood the ditch every few days, or whenever it began to dry out?”
“If we are locked inside the walls, Trella, we won’t have access to the river to open trenches at our will.” The fingers drummed even faster on the tabletop, and Corio’s reply sounded final.
Trella went on, ignoring the little signs of impatience. “We could use water from the wells inside the village. The wells in Orak are steadily refilled from the river. Could not a water wheel be built to lift the water over the walls?”
The fingers stopped their drumming and the confident smile vanished from Corio’s face. What in the name of the gods was a water wheel? But Esk kar saw that the master builder understood the words. The man went into another of his long moments of thought. Abruptly, Corio arose from the table, strode to the doorway, and passed outside into the sunlight.
Eskkar got up also, curious about whatever was outside, winked at Trella and went to stand in the doorway. To his surprise, he found five of Corio’s apprentices and helpers squatting in the dirt, each carrying a different bundle. One boy had only a large drawing slate hanging from his neck. Corio spoke quietly with his senior apprentice, a man about his own age. The talk went on for some time. Eskkar felt Trella’s arm on his back, slipping up under his tunic and rubbing at the hard muscles on his shoulders.
“What’s a water wheel?” he asked absently, watching Corio. Another apprentice had been summoned into the conversation. This one handed his bag to another and dashed off down the lane. Corio resumed his discussion with his assistant, both of them becoming more animated.
“It’s a tool we used in our village to draw water from the river. With it, a few slaves could easily lift many barrels of water from the river.”
Corio turned from the assistant and walked back toward them.
When they were all seated again, Corio turned to Trella. “My apologies, Trella, I see both you and your master are wiser than you appear. Sometimes it’s better to keep one’s wits hidden and so conceal your abilities.
“Your idea is a good one,” Corio went on, “and one I should have thought of myself. I’ve sent a boy off to find the well maker. We need to know about the force of the water inside the wells and how long it takes to dig new ones and where they could be placed. The water wheel would be an excellent way to lift and move the water. But I don’t think we would need to lift the water over the walls. Holes can be constructed in the wall just above the ground to pass the water through to the ditch. Yes, I think that would work.”
Corio paused for a moment. “We could use clay pipes inside the holes, and build some lengths of wooden troughs to carry the water from the wells to the pipes. The dirt in the ditch would remain a pool of mud, forcing the attackers to move slowly in it, but not so wet as to threaten the base of the wall, or rob it of its strength.”
Esk kar thought about Corio’s comment about hiding one’s wits and realized the master builder included himself in that group. Esk kar had always believed that people like young Drigo who spoke sharply and arrogantly all the time were smarter than he was, smarter than most others.
Perhaps it wasn’t true. Perhaps there were many like Corio and Trella who kept their wits and their mouths to themselves and so avoided the difficulties of appearing to know too much. He would talk about it with Trella later.
“Captain, for the first time, I begin to believe what you propose is barely possible. Whether it can be built in time, I’m not sure, but I will study the matter, and give you an answer tomorrow. It will be close, I warrant that much. But it may be that we can do what you ask.”
“Master Corio,” Trella said, “what of the gates to the village? Can they be made strong enough, if that is where the barbarians will attack?”
“The gates can be strengthened until they’re stronger than the wall, and the ditch can be twice as wide and even deeper there. We’ll need great logs from the forests of the north for that. As long as we keep them wet enough, they won’t burn. The barbarians will try to use a ram against them, but that will take time, and your soldiers will have to kill them.”
He looked at Esk kar. “I hope you’ve thought about barbarians shooting arrows at whatever sticks out over the wall?”
“Yes, Corio, I have.” He didn’t explain further, since he didn’t know yet whether the bows could be crafted in time or men trained.
Esk kar tightened his lips and remained silent, until Corio realized nothing further would be forthcoming. Corio wasn’t the type to ask again.
At that moment, the apprentice returned, accompanied by the village’s well maker. Solus had been appointed by the Families and was the only one in Orak allowed to construct wells. One of the oldest men in the village, short and stooped, he claimed nearly sixty seasons. The man had lived in and around the river all of his life.
“Yes, Master Corio, I come at your summons. What is it you wish to know?” Solus had trouble speaking, mostly because he had so few teeth left in his bald head.
“How difficult is it to construct new wells inside Orak, Solus?” Corio asked, getting right to the point.
“We already have four large wells for public use as well as many private ones that provide more water than we can use. Why would we want more wells?”
Another man with pride in his station and his trade, Esk kar thought with amusement. The old man had ignored him completely. Obviously Corio had worked with Solus before because he took the question in stride.
“We plan for the defense of Orak, and I need water supplies closer to the palisade. I need to know how much pressure is in each well, in case I need to draw large quantities of water each day. So tell me, Master Digger, how long does it take?”
Solus scratched his bald pate and took his time answering, plainly not used to rushing at the beck and call even of Corio, let alone some upstart captain of the guard. “To do it properly, cutting through the rock and walling the sides, about two months.” Solus looked around the table, as if waiting for someone to challenge his estimate.
Corio said nothing, just drummed his fingers on the table.
Solus went on. “As for the water pressure, the force of the river is powerful and the wells in Orak cannot be emptied. As fast as you take water, it will be replenished.”
“Even with a water wheel?” Corio asked.
“Why would you need a water wheel?” When he saw Corio’s expression darken, Solus hastened to amplify his answers. “Yes, even with a water wheel. Further inland, the ground is dry and even a good well can be emptied in three or four days of heavy use.”
Corio stood up and bowed to the digger of wells. “Thank you for your time and your wisdom, Solus. You’ve been of great assistance. I’ve taken you away from your work for long enough.”
When the man left, Corio turned to Esk kar. “He’s an old fool, but a good stone mason. As for the wells, I’m sure a working well could be dug in about a week or two. Solus is very good about taking his time and lengthening out the work. But I believe he’s correct about the pressure of the water.” Corio glanced out the door at the sun, then carefully rolled up his map, replacing it in the case, which he sealed tightly.
“I’ll go and review my estimates.
By noon tomorrow, I’ll return and tell you what you need to know.”
“My thanks to you, Master Corio,” Esk kar replied. He stood and clasped Corio’s arm. “I’ve learned much this morning.”
“As have I.” Corio’s smile this time was more relaxed. He started for the door but then stopped and turned back. “Honorable Captain,” he began formally, “I don’t wish to offend, but I would ask something.” He looked at Trella, then continued. “If you should ever wish to sell your servant, then I would be prepared to pay almost any price. In my trade, I must search constantly for people with certain skills and talents. Your servant seems to have many such skills.” His eyes fl ickered from Esk kar to Trella and back to Esk kar.
“Master Builder, I thank you for your generous offer, but Trella is not for sale.” Esk kar smiled to show that he hadn’t taken any offense. “And we look forward to meeting you tomorrow.” He bowed to Corio, as did Trella.
Corio hesitated as if wanting to add something, but instead merely smiled. He bowed and left the room, calling out to his apprentices as he did so. Esk kar went to the doorway and watched him depart with his en-tourage. The master artisan had given him much food for thought, but now Esk kar’s thoughts were elsewhere.
He stepped out into the bright sun and called out to the guard, standing patiently at his post. “I don’t want to be disturbed by anyone for the next hour. If someone asks, tell them I’m busy planning the defense of Orak.”
The guard looked at him and nodded his understanding, keeping his face under control. Returning inside, Esk kar closed the door and dropped the wooden bar across the entrance. Trella was clearing the table of the water cups, but looked up at the sound, put down the cups, and walked into his arms.
“You should be meeting with Nicar and with the tradesmen,” she put her arms around him and her head against his chest. “Master Corio seems to be the most important person in Orak right now, and we should …”
“Be quiet, girl,” his voice already hoarse with passion, “or I’ll sell you to Corio. I’m sure he could keep you busy building things.” His hands slid under her dress. Feeling her softness, he marveled once again at how she roused him.
