Eskkar Saga 01 - Dawn of Empire, page 42
“Do you think he’ll do it?” Eskkar asked Trella in a whisper as he slipped his arm around her.
“Oh, yes. He will have no choice. The women will see to it. They know that if the tribe does not grow, they’ll all be dead or captured soon enough. And they want the goods Orak can provide to make life easier for them.”
Trella rested her head on his shoulder.
“I was angry when I heard you had left Orak,” Eskkar murmured. “But now I’m glad that you came. I tried to convince Subutai myself but I couldn’t think of a way. But I did manage to change his mind about riding ahead and making you his captive.”
He smiled at the look of confusion that crossed her face. “Never mind. I’ll tell you all about it when we return to Orak. Now rest. We march for Orak and our own great battle in an hour.”
Two hours after midnight, Eskkar and Trella stepped off the ferry and onto the east bank of the Tigris. They’d scarcely left the flat bottomed craft before the gang of ferrymen and soldiers began heaving on the ropes, sending the unwieldy craft slowly back across the river, their grunts of effort seeming to boom across the river, which amplified the slightest sound.
They couldn’t do anything about the noise, and it would take another four trips to move everyone, including the horses, back to Orak, so the men would be at risk for another few hours.
Sisuthros waited anxiously for them at dockside, his face filled with relief at their safe return. Once inside the village, Eskkar, Trella, and Sisuthros walked quickly back to their house. They went directly to Eskkar’s workroom, where Corio and Nicar awaited them. Cold food, water, and wine were on the table, while two lamps provided light.
“By Ishtar, we’re glad to see you back,” Sisuthros began excitedly. “The villagers were nearly in a panic with you both gone. Another day, and half of them would be trying to get across the river to join up with you.”
“The barbarians are here?” Eskkar asked as he picked up a cold chicken leg and took a bite.
“Yes, the big band that’s been pillaging to the south arrived two days ago. Our scouts had to run for the gate. Now they’re camped about two miles away at the farm belonging to old Gudea and his sons. He and his family are as mad as hornets that their house was chosen by the barbarians. We could see about a hundred men from the walls, but there are probably at least twice that number.”
“And the main party? Any news?”
“Nothing in the last few days, but they can’t be too far away now. We’re locked in here now, and there have been no patrols to the north since you left. It’s likely the main force will be making camp a few miles away from here in two or three days.” The tension sounded in his voice. “Your own battle went well?”
“Very well. We lost only eight men during the battle, though one of the wounded died on the return trip. But all seventy—three barbarians were killed, and their horses, those that survived, were given to the Ur Nammu. It will be at least a week, probably longer, before the Alur Meriki begin to wonder what happened to those they sent across the Tigris.”
Eskkar smiled grimly at that thought. “At any rate, we now have ninety more veterans to put on the wall, men who know the barbarians can be beaten.”
“And the Ur Nammu?” Corio asked. “Will they help us in our fight?”
Eskkar shrugged. “I’m not sure. Their chief was killed in the battle, and his son now decides for the tribe. But Trella did her best to persuade him. They may yet give us some small help.”
“We didn’t want Lady Trella to go,” Nicar said, looking at Trella as he spoke. “We knew you would be angry. But she insisted, and there was nothing we could say to prevent her.”
“It matters little, now that you’re both safely back,” Corio remarked.
“It is time to get ready for the first attack. When do you think they will attack?”
“Just as soon as their ruler arrives,” Eskkar answered. “He’ll want to see the first attack, and he will probably bring his own warriors ahead of the main party. But he may not want to leave the main camp unguarded and too far to the rear. So tomorrow or the next day should bring the first assault.”
Nicar stood. “We should let them get some sleep. They’re tired and need their rest.”
The others nodded, said their goodnights, and departed for their own beds and a few hours’ sleep. Eskkar escorted them downstairs. When they were gone, he returned to the workroom to find Trella seated at the table.
She had extinguished one of the lamps to save oil.
“You’re not tired, Trella?” He sat down next to her. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Everything is starting now.” Her voice was low and her eyes stared at the table. “I mean, all the planning and building and training . . . everything is finished. Now the battle begins.”
It took him a moment to understand her words. “Yes, this is the way of war. All the preliminaries are over, and luck or the gods decide your fate. We’ve prepared as best we could. Now swords and arrows will determine if we live or die. All our decisions and choices will be held up to the light for all to see.”
She turned toward him. “You don’t fear tomorrow! Why am I suddenly filled with fear? I wasn’t afraid until now.”
“All men are afraid of their first battle, Trella. When we waited for the Alur Meriki up in the valley, the men’s fear was so thick I was sure the Alur Meriki could smell it three hundred paces away. Men’s teeth were chattering, their bowels loosening, and their hands shaking. But once the battle starts, there’s no time for fear. This is your first battle. Don’t be concerned about these thoughts.”
The night before battle, every man had to face his fear, some men of sword thrusts, others of arrows or lances, and most worried about their own bravery. He realized a woman could be as afraid. “Anyway, we have nowhere to run.”
“And death? We could both be dead by tomorrow night!”
That was more likely than she realized. He pulled her from her chair onto his lap, holding her close as her arms went around his neck and she squeezed him with all her strength.
“All men fear death, but I’ve been fighting all my life, and should have been dead many times. Now I only fear losing you.” He kissed her hair and neck, then turned her head toward him.
“When you sat at the fire across from Subutai, you looked and spoke like a goddess come down from the heavens. Every man in camp envied me when you lay down beside me to rest, and I’m sure many wished themselves in my place, with their hands upon you.”
He kissed her again and this time she kissed him back, though the tears were starting now and her body shook with the effort to hold them back.
“I’m just a frightened girl, pretending to be all wise, because that’s what the people need. Now all I want is for you to take me away, someplace where five thousand barbarians won’t be trying to kill us.”
He smiled. “No, it’s too late now. Once, perhaps, I could have done that. But that’s not enough for me any longer. You are wise and you care about many people, and you deserve something better than a hard life as a soldier’s wife. Here you are . . . will be . . . a queen in Orak, and all men will know your wisdom and beauty.”
She wriggled on his lap as she tried to hold him closer, and suddenly he felt excited by her touch, or the heat from her body, or maybe by the threat of dying on the morrow.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her into the dark bedroom. “Now I need you to love me, to give me strength for the days ahead.”
He sat her down on the bed and helped her remove her dress, as she seemed too weak to do it by herself, then pushed her back gently. When he slid under the blanket, she moved into his arms and buried her face in his neck and he barely heard her words.
“Give me your strength, Eskkar, and I’ll be strong for you forever.”
Chapter 22
Eskkar awoke with a start, alone in bed, with the morning sun making bright patterns of light on the blanket and the floor. Sitting up, he realized the soft bed had let him sleep at least an hour past sunrise. He’d told Trella to waken him an hour before dawn.
Two hours wasted.
The house seemed strangely quiet as he hurriedly dressed. The outer workroom was empty and the door that led downstairs closed. When he opened it, subdued voices and the smell of crisping meat floated up from the kitchen. He went down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, he found Gatus emerging from the kitchen, dressed for battle, a piece of chicken in his hand.
“Good morning, Captain. I was about to wake you.” Before Eskkar could reply, he continued. “We decided to let you sleep a little longer. All the men are posted at the wall and there are only a few barbarians watching us from the hilltops.” He wrinkled his nose. “You might want to wash up before you eat. You still smell like a horse.”
“Where’s Trella?” Why hadn’t she awakened him? The barbarians might have attacked at dawn.
“Where she’s supposed to be, out with the women.” Gatus took another bite from his chicken leg. “This is good. I think it was supposed to be your breakfast.”
Eskkar swore at the grinning soldier, then strode past him into the kitchen. Bantor’s wife stood there, tending the kitchen fire, ready with his breakfast. Halfway to the table, he decided Gatus was right.
“Hold the food, Annok-sur.” He went outside to the well, stripping off his tunic and using it to scrub himself down. A servant came and drew bucket after bucket of water for him until Eskkar felt as clean as he could be without a swim in the river. Wrapping his wet tunic around his waist, he returned to the bedroom and dressed again, this time for battle.
He took his time, binding his undergarment tightly around his loins, then donning a clean linen tunic. He strapped on the sandals that Trella had purchased for him that first day, making sure the wide leather straps were tightly knotted around his calves.
The servant entered the bedroom with a knock, holding a thick leather vest. He laced a leather protector onto Eskkar’s lower right arm, then a smaller one onto his upper arm. Eskkar belted the great sword around his waist and thrust his knife, almost as long as the men’s short fighting sword, into his belt. Last the servant offered the bronze casque, the helmet that would protect his head, but Eskkar shook his head. “Leave it. It’s too hot.”
He nodded his thanks to the servant and returned to the kitchen. He wolfed down the remains of the chicken, ripping it apart with his fingers and washing it down with water and handfuls of bread.
“Salt, Annok-sur.” She handed him a bowl containing the rough crystals.
Men fighting or working in the heat did better with extra salt, though no one knew why. Eskkar swallowed a bitter mouthful of the gritty stuff, then washed it down with the last of the water.
“Good fortune to you today, Captain,” Annok-sur offered when he finished, wiping her hands clean on a rag and following him to the door.
She would have duties of her own today. “Good fortune to you and Bantor.”
Eskkar turned and stopped so suddenly that she bumped into him.
“And thank you both for what you’ve done for Trella. Bantor is a lucky man to have such a good wife, but don’t tell him I said that.”
She laughed and touched his shoulder. “There are many things I don’t tell Bantor, Captain.”
Eskkar wondered about what things Trella didn’t choose to tell him as he stepped outside into the bright sunlight. His men had converted the courtyard into a command post. Gatus sat at the main table, along with Jalen and a handful of soldiers. A dozen messenger boys were packed into a corner of the yard, all wearing distinctive red bindings around their arms so the soldiers would recognize them and let them through.
Clerks mixed with subcommanders who would coordinate the defenses.
Nicar and the other members of the Families sat at a second table, each with his own duties and his respective attendants. The spacious courtyard barely accommodated those responsible for Orak’s defense.
Eskkar walked over to the main table, reminding himself to take his rest wherever and whenever possible today.
“All the men are in position, Captain.” Gatus spoke formally. “Bantor and Sisuthros are at the gate, along with Corio and his eldest. Jalen has inspected the rear gate. Maldar will command the men on the riverside, and I’ll command the north wall. Hamati and Alexar direct the east and west walls. All the men have been fed and the water buckets are full. Each man has been given his instructions for the hundredth time, though I’m sure they’ll forget them as soon as the first barbarian starts for the wall.”
In a few words Gatus had given Eskkar all the information he needed and at the same time had communicated that all was as it should be.
“So, I should have stayed in bed longer. Maybe you would’ve called me after the fighting was over.”
“They’re not going to attack for hours, even days,” Gatus offered reasonably. “First they’ll try to frighten us with their presence.” He looked squarely at his leader. “Now it’s time to inspect the men and give them some words.”
Meaning I’d better get to work. “Then let’s begin.” With Jalen and Maldar in tow, they walked out to the street where more messengers leaned against the wall. They cheered at the sight of Eskkar and he smiled at them. Yet another surprise waited for him. Four of the Hawk Clan, including two of its newest members, stood waiting.
“This is your personal bodyguard from now on,” Gatus explained.
“These four rogues are the least valuable of the Hawk Clan, so they’ve been assigned as your guard. If they stay sober, they may be of some use.”
Each stood taller than average, two of them with less than twenty seasons, but all with hard muscles stretched tight across their chests. They looked as if they could chew stones for breakfast, though they all smiled at Gatus’s backhanded words of praise. Each wore as much leather armor as he could carry, and every one bore the Hawk Clan emblem on his chest.
Eskkar started to protest, but Gatus cut him off.
“Save your breath. They have their orders, which are to keep you alive. So don’t bother trying to order them away, and don’t try to take any foolish risks. They won’t allow it.” He started walking, not waiting for an argument.
Eskkar shook his head and strode after him. Eskkar saw few people in the normally crowded lanes, most of whom called out nervous greetings. At the main gate, the last of the dwellings behind the structure had been torn down, leaving a clear space roughly fifty paces in length. That opening narrowed as it followed the wall in each direction, but there were always at least twenty paces from the wall to the nearest building, so men and equipment could move easily from point to point.
He stared up at the gate. Four great timbers braced it, two to each side, resting in holes dug deep into the earth and reinforced with rock. Across the top, small wooden troughs ran the length of the opening, already filled with water. A catwalk extended underneath the troughs, so men could tip the contents over the top of the gate to put out fires.
This top platform could also hold a dozen archers who’d be able to shoot through slits carved into the gate. Another platform, wider and stouter, hung just below it, with more slits for the defenders. The structure’s outer surface, hardened by fire, would be slow to reignite, but Eskkar knew there was nothing wooden that couldn’t be made to burn. A gang of women waited nearby, ready to replenish the troughs with buckets of water as needed throughout the day.
On each side rose a square tower, ugly in its unfinished rock and mud bricks, but rising above both wall and gate, allowing the archers to fire down at anyone directly below.
Corio’s oldest son, Alcinor, saw Eskkar’s party approach and waved.
That triggered a massive shout as the villagers and soldiers recognized him. Eskkar decided his venture across the river must have worried Orak’s inhabitants. His return, added to the reports of another victory, gave the crowd something to rejoice about. It felt strange to be cheered simply because he was seen. He still didn’t know what to do about it.
“Captain, it’s good to see you back in Orak,” Alcinor said with a smile and a bow, “and congratulations. We hear you killed all the barbarians with great ease.”
Eskkar grimaced at the soldiers who couldn’t keep from bragging of their victory. Now everyone would expect an easy defeat of the barbarians. “Greetings, Alcinor.” He kept his voice cold and hard. “And don’t speak of easy conquests. There will be none from the Alur Meriki.”
Alcinor’s smiled vanished at Eskkar’s tone and the young man’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m sorry . . . I meant no disrespect . . . I . . .”
“Enough, Alcinor. I know what you meant. Is everything here as you planned?” Curse the gods, he hadn’t meant to frighten the man out of his wits.
Alcinor tried to recover from his embarrassment. “Umm . . . yes, of course. We’ve prepared everything as Sisuthros ordered. We have . . .”
“You’ve done well, then,” Eskkar interrupted, trying to undo the effect of his harsh words. “Your gate will be one of the main points of attack, so you must help the soldiers keep the gate secure. If you need anything . . .”
Sisuthros called to them from atop the left tower. “Captain, there’s movement on the hillside.”
Eskkar and his guards filed quickly into the tower, treading carefully on the dark, narrow steps that followed the walls as they ascended to the top. Bantor came over from the other tower to join them. The soldiers stationed there stepped back so their leaders could see better.
The sight made Eskkar grunt in annoyance. The barbarians surveyed the village and its defenses from the same hilltop where, months before, he’d first considered defending Orak. From there they could see much of the village and the surrounding lands, now flooded, except for the main approach.
“There were only ten or twelve horsemen there until a few moments ago,” Sisuthros informed him. “Now I see standards there.”
Eskkar counted as quickly as he could, using his fingers to keep track, his lips moving slightly. “At least forty now, and with three clan chiefs.”
