by Sam Barone
“Those horses must be around somewhere. We’ll find them. But remember, Jalen, your task is to get information, not fight. I want you back here alive, not with your head on some warrior’s lance. If you think fit, send two men back early to report. Take a boy as a servant and to ride an extra horse.” A boy could always be abandoned, should the horse be needed.
Trella stood and went to the other table, returning with a small leather pouch. She removed a light brown cloth and spread it out on the table.
Everyone leaned forward to look, then gasped. The cloth was a map with details sewn into the material using green, blue, and red threads. The river and Orak were clearly marked, as were most of the villages in the northern countryside.
She set a slim wooden needle and two small spools of thread, one red and one white, on the table. “You can sew these threads on to indicate what you find and where you find it. My master obtained this for you yesterday.”
Esk kar didn’t mind explaining. “When I saw Corio’s map, it stayed in my thoughts, so I went to him and asked if he could make one for me. Corio told me he got his from Noble Rebba who had a slave skilled in making such things. So I went to Rebba’s house and convinced him that I needed the slave to work on this.”
It had taken more than polite conversation. Esk kar had threatened to take the slave by force if the map wasn’t completed by this morning. “I spent an hour with the slave. He said a cloth map is easier to carry and use than a papyrus one. He’ll explain certain things to you about the map, and show you how to judge the distance between landmarks. Stay with him, Jalen, until everything is clear in your head.
“Now, men, let’s get back to work,” Esk kar said. “Jalen, join us for dinner at sunset, and we can discuss things. I’m going to visit Corio and see how things are progressing.” He stood up to indicate that the meeting had ended, and that another day in the transformation of Orak had begun.
Esk kar’s following was already so routine as to be scarcely noticed by the villagers. He traveled with Trella and two guards, one a seasoned veteran and the other a recruit, expected to watch his elder and follow his example. With Sisuthros leading the way, they found Corio working outside the main gate, leaning over a small table and talking with one of his sons. A half — dozen slaves and craftsmen surrounded them.
No one seemed to be doing any building. Most of the men just stood around. Tools lay on the ground. A few shallow holes had been dug and piles of wood were scattered about. Not one brick sat atop another.
“Good morning,” Corio greeted each of them by name, an expansive smile on his face. “I expected a visit from you, Captain. I fear Sisuthros is dissatisfied with our progress.”
“We know work such as this takes time, Corio,” Esk kar replied, determined to show the master artisan he understood something about the nature of his craft. “But I wanted to see what’s been done and get some idea of when the wall is likely to be finished.”
“Actually, Esk kar, we are almost ready to begin. Come, I’ll show you.”
He walked toward the north, stopping in front of a shallow trench.
Esk kar estimated the hole to be four feet wide, six feet long, and three feet deep.
“This is the start of the wall. We’ll dig it down a little deeper to make sure the base is solid, and we will layer the base with stones. Then sun — dried bricks of mud and straw will form two walls, and we’ll fill in the center with dirt, stones, and upright bricks to add strength. We’ll add the dirt slowly and tamp it down tightly as we go. Some bricks will be placed inside at angles to the face of the wall to give it additional strength. That way, the wall will be solid enough even though it will only have bricks on the front and back. Naturally, if we had more time, we would make the wall deeper, taller, and thicker.”
Corio spoke to his son, who ran off and returned in a moment carrying a heavy mud brick with a few strands of straw sticking out of it. “This is the brick we will use.”
About eighteen inches long, six inches wide, and four inches deep, it looked quite heavy. Esk kar started to take it from the boy, but Corio spoke first. “Captain, if you hold the brick, do not grasp it by the ends. It might break in half. Hold it from underneath and support its weight.”
Esk kar took the brick as instructed, surprised at its weight. He handed it to Sisuthros, who hefted the brick before giving it back to the boy, who took it and carefully laid it flat in the bottom of the hole, then ran off to fetch a second brick. When he returned, he placed the second brick in a straight line with the first one, leaving a finger — sized gap between the two.
He raced off to fetch another while Corio explained further.
“The bricks are placed thus in the hole, then covered with a thin layer of wet mud and sand, then a third brick is placed atop the middle of the first two. Then we add more mud and repeat the process. The wall grows out of the earth and becomes stronger as the mud and sand dry around the bricks. Then we smooth the outer face of the wall with a different mixture of sand and mud, which will also harden quite well.”
“Master Corio,” began Sisuthros, poking at the bricks with his foot, “it doesn’t seem very strong. Isn’t it just mud? I mean, won’t the barbarians just be able to push it down?”
Esk kar thought much the same thing, but he’d learned not to ask the obvious questions. Nevertheless, he felt relieved Sisuthros had voiced his doubts.
“Sisuthros, the wall will be strong enough to protect your men and give them a fighting platform. It won’t be easily climbed or torn down. But if they bring tools to dig at the wall, or a ram, to try and punch through it, then the wall won’t stand for very long. To make the wall strong enough to resist tools or a determined assault of that kind would take more time than we have.”
“Master Builder,” Esk kar said, “your task is to build the wall; ours, to defend it.” He turned to Sisuthros. “If we allow the barbarians time to stand before the wall and dig at it with shovels and axes, then we’ll be lost.
If we give them that much time… no, we must kill any of them that make it to the ditch or to the base of the wall.”
Corio thought about Esk kar’s words for a moment. “The wall will not yield easily, and the packed dirt will be difficult to dislodge. But if enough men with the right tools attack the base of the wall, then in twenty or thirty minutes’ hard work, they could make a small breach.”
Less time than that, Esk kar thought, knowing Corio had never witnessed the ferocious energy of the steppes people at war. “We’ll not give them even ten minutes, Corio. Just make sure the wall doesn’t fall down.”
He looked at Trella to see if she had anything to add.
“Master Builder,” she began, “if you think it a good idea, perhaps you could build a small section, one that Esk kar and his men could pretend to attack to see how long it would take them to break it apart. What they learn might help you in your designs.”
Corio rubbed his chin as he considered her words. “An excellent suggestion, Trella. I’ve never tried to tear down anything I’ve built. We’re almost ready to begin anyway, so we will construct for you a ten or twenty — foot section of wall wherever you desire.”
“And how long before we see an actual wall standing before us?” Eskkar asked. They still needed to know if it could be done in time. But that question didn’t seem to worry Corio very much.
“Return in ten days, and you’ll see the first section of the wall completed,” he answered. “Right now, it’s more important for you to make sure that all the supplies and men that I require are delivered.”
“Then I go to attend to my task.” Esk kar gave a formal bow to Corio.
“And I leave you and Sisuthros to yours.”
Esk kar walked away with Trella at his side, ignoring the custom of having the slave walk behind the master. “Well, what did you think?”
“Corio is sure he can complete the wall in time unless something unexpected occurs. But I don’t think he gave much thought to how strong the wa
ll would actually be. He’ll think about it now, and I’m sure he will make the base of the wall stronger than he’d planned, at least at the places you say the barbarians will attack.” She gave him a smile. “So, master, you have done well this day. Corio will build you a fighting wall, not a house wall.”
Esk kar laughed, then put his arm around her, giving her a hearty squeeze and a slap on her backside, ignoring the looks and smiles from the people in the lane. “Well, then, tonight you will have to work extra hard to make sure your master is rewarded for his quick thinking.”
When their lovemaking ended and Esk kar slept, Trella lay in the crook of his arm. She had to force her thoughts away from the warm glow of their passion, but she finally cleared her mind and thought about her future. The coming months would require long hours of hard work. She knew she’d be busy enough helping Esk kar manage the details of the defense, to make sure no key item was forgotten.
But all the coordination and planning for the attack would be only background to the real struggle that lay ahead. Her few days with Esk kar had convinced her, somewhat to her surprise, that her master possessed many good qualities and more wits than many gave him credit. He had proven capable and resourceful. Uneducated and rough he might be, but he had a personal code of honor that had won her respect and then her heart.
Esk kar had convinced Nicar, then the soldiers, and finally the rest of the villagers he could defend Orak, and now even she believed in him.
Give him the men and supplies, make sure that nothing is overlooked and every detail well planned, and he would have an even chance against the barbarians. And so she promised herself that she would do everything she could to give him that chance.
Nevertheless, Trella knew that even a successful defense of Orak would not guarantee Esk kar would survive. The moment the threat disappeared, the nobles and the leading merchants would remember Drigo’s destruction and how much gold Esk kar had cost them. They’d want to eliminate or remove the upstart captain of the guard. The nobles considered themselves too clever, too wealthy, and too powerful to submit to the rule of an outsider like Esk kar. Even less would they want someone like him to share in their rule, a constant reminder of what they owed to him. So while his dream of joining the nobles might be possible, it seemed doubtful that he, a barbarian himself, could long survive in that group.
No, they’d find a way to get rid of him, and that now included her as well. They’d remember she had provoked Drigo, that she had given Esk kar the help he needed to win over the merchants, and most of all that she’d been a slave. Her fate was bound up with her master’s and just as sealed.
Even if she survived, even if she were not kept as a slave, she’d be given in marriage to some minor son who would keep her in his household, a mere plaything or a source of children, locked away from everything and everyone, and soon forgotten.
Thus Esk kar might win the battle but lose the victory. So that must be where her true efforts should go, all her wits and resources committed to making sure that Esk kar and she retained the fruits of their victory. Not only would it prove difficult, she must do it quietly, so quietly that nobody knew what she was about. Even Esk kar, for now, was better off knowing nothing of her activities.
Knowledge would be the key. To know everything that went on in Orak would be her goal, and already she had several ideas about how to begin that task. Today, as they walked hand — in — hand through the village streets, she’d seen how the people looked at her, the slave girl who walked side — by- side with her master, the slave who’d surely cast a spell on the tall soldier, the slave who had brought down the House of Drigo, the slave who attended the councils of the Nobles. Those looks had reinforced her own assessment.
Tomorrow she’d begin winning over the common people, starting with the women. Once she’d swayed them to her side, she would use them to gather information. She would win allies and friends from among the villagers, especially the new ones that would flock to Orak in the next few months, the landless and friendless ones who would have little loyalty to the nobles or the wealthy merchants.
That started a new train of thought, and she shifted her body slightly, the small movement causing Esk kar to turn on his side but not to wake from his slumber. She smiled as she thought about herself and Esk kar-the barbarian soldier and the educated slave. Everyone in the village thought she’d bewitched him, used magic or potions to turn him into a leader of men. Even Nicar half — believed it. Perhaps that could be another ally. Let all of them think she had the gift of power over men.
Her wits were sharp, she knew, sharp enough to see quickly and easily many things that others saw only slowly or not at all. The common people would be one of the keys to power in the new Orak, she decided, a strong balance against the might and money of the nobles. Well, she would find a way to win the hearts of the crowd. She already had piqued their interest, a good first step. Yes, that was the way to power and security for herself and her lover. She smiled in the darkness and turned on her side, her arm crossing his body as she pulled herself close to him and fell asleep almost at once, feeling safe in his arms.
10
The next four weeks passed quickly for Esk kar, who started every morning before the sun rose and climbed exhausted into bed at night. Each day brought some new crisis or an unexpected setback. But the first group of recruits had joined the ranks, and another group of forty had started.
At last Bantor and Gatus had enough soldiers to man the gates, the docks, and the lanes, allowing Esk kar the luxury of sending out local patrols. Their reports confirmed men were converging on Orak. Some looked for a chance to fight the barbarians, others simply sought refuge or a place of safety to bring their families. More arrived each day, and as many came to stay as had left. Bantor’s men stopped everyone at the gate, where the arriving refugees learned they could either fight, dig, or move on. Only traders with their caravans and goods passed freely into Orak.
Patrols walked the village each day to make sure every man performed his assigned work task. Slackers received only one warning. At the second offense, Esk kar simply ordered them out of the village, forcing them to leave behind anything of value to the defense.
One foolish craftsman had resisted the order and drawn a knife. Bantor killed the man. His death was less than a pebble thrown into the great river, but the villagers, rich and poor, understood the warning. Since then, no one tried to leave the village by force. All those who remained worked on the wall, adding their sweat and blood to the sand, stones, and mud that comprised it.
The Wall. It became the focal point of everyone’s lives and the main theme of conversation. The fi rst topic of discussion centered around the backbreaking labor as men toiled under heavy loads of earth, bricks, or stones. Nicar, Corio, and the village elders walked the construction area each day, encouraging slaves and freemen to keep up their efforts. Sisuthros’s soldiers made sure everyone did their fair share of the work, adding their own muscles to the toil, and using the whip only to deal with slack-ers. Men labored and sweated, and the wall began to grow out of the earth.
But it grew slowly, as if resisting the efforts of impatient men to lift it from the dust.
The soldiers’ training was the next subject of discussion. As hard as the villagers labored to build the wall, so did Esk kar’s men sweat in their brutal training, cursing their drillmasters as they first hardened their bodies, then learned how to use their weapons. They trained in the shadow of the new wall as they tested their archery from makeshift platforms.
Use of the bow took first place in the training. For at least three hours every day, each group of soldiers devoted their time to archery. They fired hundreds of arrows daily until their fingers ran red with blood and muscles trembled from the strain. When they finished with the bow, they learned to fight with sword, spear, and axe, practicing from the makeshift walls. Day’s end brought them no respite, for Esk kar still needed soldiers to guard the gates and the docks, patrol the village, and
enforce discipline on the work crews. Everyone complained, but to no effect, as their commanders labored as hard as their men.
The third topic, which was usually the most interesting, was the captain of the guard and his female slave. Few villagers had known or noticed Esk kar before Nicar appointed him captain. Those who recalled him from those days admitted he’d changed. Still aloof and rarely smiling, he now stood out from other men as he strode about the village.
Everyone deferred to him. Everyone looked to him to defend Orak and save them from the barbarians. All watched him carefully each day, searching for the slightest sign of fear or doubt. But he gave no such sign. And each day the wall grew a few feet longer, the soldiers trained a little harder, and gradually the villagers began to believe they might survive.
If Esk kar made for poor conversation, Trella was another matter. As she went about her duties or accompanied her master, everyone found something to say about the slave girl who’d cast a spell on the soldier. De-fying custom she walked at Esk kar’s side, and he often put his arm around her, letting everyone see how much she meant to him.
The village women began to respect her, and their men soon grew as awed as their wives. Trella showed wisdom beyond her seasons, and her voice commanded attention in the councils. She seemed to radiate a power over men and women, and now many sought her advice as she passed through the streets.
Nevertheless, at each day’s end, the tired villagers wondered whether there would be enough soldiers to defend Orak, and the soldiers worried if the laborers could complete the wall in time.
Esk kar threw himself into the effort, as if by hard work he could single — handedly guarantee success. His daily training soon made him the most proficient swordsman in the village, but many a time Esk kar found himself knocked to the dirt by some especially skillful or lucky opponent.
The men always cheered at that, and Esk kar learned to nod approval to his challenger, though it seldom happened twice. Several times each week Esk kar took a horse and rode the countryside around Orak, studying the land while he practiced his horsemanship. Each day brought some new bruise or scrape, and each night Trella would massage her master’s stiff muscles.
