Authors: Sam Barone
Jalen pointed at some red threads. “Here is where the main camp is, or was about two weeks ago. They travel slowly and stay close to the river.
The raiding parties range eastward, sweeping everyone toward the river.”
Again Jalen pointed to the map, indicating two curved seams of black threads that hooked far to the southeast. “They ride great distances, but always to the east and south, though sometimes they send captives and loot back to the main camp. They do that every week or so, and perhaps they exchange men as well, so all can share in the looting.”
Esk kar stared at the map, as did the others, but already he could understand the strategy. He sat there, lost in thought, until Nicar’s words interrupted him.
“Well, Esk kar, what do you make of it? It seems they may pass us by if they are raiding so far to the east. When the river bends, the main party may continue eastward. That’s the path they traveled the last time they passed through these parts.”
Esk kar glanced at Jalen and saw that his subcommander understood all too clearly what the barbarians had in mind. Esk kar leaned over the map, tracing on it with his finger.
“The main body follows the river Tigris, and right now that group is traveling almost due east. When the river bends, they’ll continue to follow it and will be moving southeast. When the river straightens, they’ll be heading almost due south, and we’ll be right in their path. By then these raiding parties will be ranging far to the southeast of Orak, and they’ll start to move toward us as well, first driving west, then north. They’ll approach Orak from the south, following the river and driving anyone seeking to escape from Orak back toward us.” He looked up at the men and saw them all listening intently to him, mouths open, as they tried to grasp his meaning.
“This time the barbarians are not just passing nearby, and we’re not just another village near their path. This time they make straight for Orak.
We’re their main destination. They herd everyone toward us, knowing that the crowds of escaping farmers and villagers will overwhelm us with their numbers even as they concentrate all their goods and livestock here. They expect to pluck a rich prize before they move on.”
Esk kar’s words silenced everyone for a moment before Nicar spoke.
“How sure can you be of this, Esk kar? They could still turn east and not head directly here.”
Nicar’s question rang of desperation. They heard the words, but not what they meant. “Tell them, Jalen. Tell them what you think.”
“I think it’s as Esk kar says,” Jalen said. “They’re coming here. Otherwise the main band would have turned east weeks ago. That’s why they’re moving so slowly. They want people to get word of their approach and to come here, thinking themselves safe, until they have nowhere to go. The village will be overwhelmed with people from the countryside. The barbarians know there’s no easy ford of the Tigris for forty miles on either side of Orak.”
That put another thought into Esk kar’s head. Pulling the map toward him for a moment, Esk kar glanced at it and grunted, then shoved it back toward the center of the table. “Yes, and eventually they’ll send a band of warriors across the river to make sure nobody crosses over, even from the ford here. That will keep us penned up. They won’t care whether Orak resists or not. We’ll have nowhere to run.”
For a long moment no one uttered a sound, each man deep in his own dark thoughts of the future.
Caldor, the younger son of Nicar, broke the silence. “You speak of ignorant barbarians having a strategy just because they wander along the river! They may just as soon head back the way they came as come here.”
Nicar whirled toward his son, his voice hot with anger. “You are not to speak at this table unless asked to. If you’re unable to obey, leave.” The words chilled the room. Everyone remembered the brash words of another youth killed in this very room. Caldor flushed red at the rebuke and sat back in his chair, looking away from the group. Everyone turned to Esk kar, expecting an outburst of some kind.
Esk kar heard Trella’s stool scrape softly on the floor behind him, a reminder she was close by. He didn’t answer Caldor directly, responding as if Nicar himself had asked it.
“If any here think the Alur Meriki leaders, who’ve led their clan through hundreds of battles and thousands of camps, are not capable of planning their route with care and forethought, you are mistaken. If you think that it takes no wits to rule three or four thousand people, organize hunting and food gathering, repair your own wagons, smelt your own ores, forge your own bronze, make your own tools, and raise your own livestock, all while moving hundreds of miles, then you’re even more mistaken. If we make mistakes of that kind, we’re as good as dead or captured.”
No one said anything in answer, and they avoided looking at Caldor.
“Jalen,” Esk kar said, breaking the silence. “Did you get any idea of how big the tribe is? How many men, wagons, horses?”
Jalen clutched the empty cup, no doubt wishing for more wine but too nervous to ask for any. “The great clan has grown. There must have been a joining in the last few years. They say the tribe numbers more than five thousand, not counting slaves.”
Esk kar thought that over as gasps of amazement went around the table. Five thousand was an incredible number of people, more than twice the number of people in Orak. But Esk kar knew it wasn’t the number of clansmen that counted, only the number of warriors they could hurl against the wall. Everyone started talking at once, but Esk kar rapped his cup on the table.
“Five thousand is a great number of people, but only about one in five will be a warrior. The rest are old men, women, and children. At most, there will be fifteen hundred warriors, probably less, maybe only around twelve hundred. It’s a great number of warriors, but we’ll have over three hundred defenders. It will be more difficult, but still possible.”
“When we agreed to defend Orak,” Nestor said, his voice tense with anxiety as he leaned across the table, “we spoke of possibly six or seven hundred barbarians. Now we speak of twice that number, and you say it’s still possible? Are we mad to think we can stop that many barbarians?”
“The wall can stop them.” Corio’s words made everyone turn toward him. “It will be high enough and strong enough. I’ve seen Esk kar’s men in their training, firing arrows into targets at a hundred paces, seven and eight shafts each minute. I’ve watched, and I believe what I’ve seen.”
“You’re committed to building the wall,” Rebba countered. “You’re being swayed by your own work. No matter how strong the wall, there won’t be enough men to defend it.”
“It’s true I believe in the wall,” Corio admitted. “But if we can get additional men, then it can be done, I’m sure of it.”
“And where are you to get these additional men?” Nestor shouted, putting his fist hard on the table. He turned to Esk kar. “Your plans to recruit and train are already stretched thin. There are fewer men willing to fight each day. Isn’t that so, Captain?”
Another silence fell over the table as all eyes turned back toward Eskkar. He saw the fear in their faces, and found he had no words. If the barbarians hurled everyone at the wall in one rush, he didn’t know for certain they could be stopped. Everyone waited for his answer.
The sound of Trella’s stool being scraped along the plank floor made every eye turn toward her, including Esk kar’s. “Pardon me, Nobles, for speaking out, but are not the barbarians sending you all the men you desire?” She kept her head bowed as she spoke, properly submissive, her words just reaching their ears.
“By the gods, Trella, you’re right. The more fool I for not seeing it,”
Esk kar’s confidence returned, and he looked first at Trella, then at Jalen, who nodded his head in agreement. “We’ll have more men than we know what to do with. And many of them will be fighting men at that, driven here from all the smaller villages to the south and the east, looking for a chance to strike back. We’ll easily add another hundred or more men, and many will know how to swing a sword.”
He grasped Trella’s arm in excitement. “We can do it! We don’t have to match the barbarians in numbers. One man behind the wall will be worth four or fi ve below it. We’ll have to plan on more people inside the village, but it can still be done.”
“Then you think Orak can be held? Enough men will be found?” The excitement in Nicar’s voice betrayed his emotions.
Esk kar turned back toward the table, the smile that Trella’s words had brought still on his face. “Yes, Nobles, I’m sure we can. With another hundred fi ghting men, we should …” He stopped and turned back toward his slave. “Is there anything else we should be wary of, Trella?”
She lifted her eyes for a moment. “I should not speak at your gathering.”
“Speak up, Trella,” Corio snapped, “and forget those customs. If you have anything to say, just say it and let us decide if it’s worthy.”
Nevertheless Trella kept her voice humble. “Nobles, it seems to me that you will soon be facing the problem of what to do with so many people. If hundreds more farmers and villagers flock to Orak from the south and east, they’ll overwhelm the village, even as you work to defend it. Already there are many strangers in the streets. I fear they interrupt the work or cause other problems. Perhaps you should consider closing the gates to all except those who will fight and their families, and send the rest across the river.”
That sounded wise to Esk kar, and he was about to agree before he managed to get hold of his tongue. Let others speak first, Trella kept telling him. Listen to what they say before you speak, and you’ll know better what to say yourself.
Corio’s voice rose once again. “Yes, by the gods, I’ve already been slowed down by interruptions and people wandering in and out of the work areas, asking stupid questions. Each day it grows worse. It’s hard to keep men working when newcomers stand there gawking.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table. “We’re risking all that we have,” Nicar said, “to save Orak. These strangers owe nothing to us or to the village. Let us take those who we want and send the others away.”
“Fight, work, or move on,” Esk kar said quietly. “That’s what we’ve been saying, and it’s the choice we’ll offer those who can help us. We can establish a camp for the newcomers at the old village site to the south. They can stay there until they decide to move on. That will keep them out of Orak.”
The first people to settle in Orak had dug a well about two miles to the south and lived there for many years before moving the village to its current site.
“More guards will be needed at the gates and at the old site,” Jalen suggested. “And you’ll need more patrols in the countryside.”
Esk kar smiled at that. “We already have over a hundred and eighty men under arms, and well - trained men, too. Another sixty are in training and will be ready in a few weeks. Now that we’ve enough men available, we can increase the number under training.”
“Are you certain you’ll have enough men?” Nicar voiced everyone’s concern.
“Yes, Nicar, I’m sure of it now. I want to have three hundred and fifty men ready to defend Orak, with another five hundred villagers behind them to help fight and carry loads. With that many men, I can hold Orak as long as the wall stands and the food holds out. But I think we’ll need another fifty fighters to send across the river.”
Nestor looked puzzled. “Why send men across the river when they’re needed here?”
“To guard your livestock, Noble. All the spare cattle, sheep, and horses must be moved out of the village and the countryside. We won’t have food or space to keep them here anyway, and the stink and filth would be un-bearable. Besides, the barbarians will learn that we have no livestock here.
It will make them less eager to fight. Remember, gold is not so important to them. Horses first, then animals, then women, that’s how they think. So we send all our beasts away, across the river and to the west, with fifty men to guard them.”
Esk kar reached out and pulled the map toward him, putting his finger on the spot indicating the main barbarian camp. “Jalen, when do you think the barbarians will arrive? Do we have enough time?”
“Based on what I saw and heard, I think they will arrive here in two months or so at the earliest. Raiding parties could be here sooner, of course, but I don’t think that’s their plan. They’re moving slowly, taking their time, enjoying their conquests. They see no need to rush.”
“What if they learn we’re building a wall to stop them?” Nicar asked.
“Won’t that make them change their plans?”
Jalen shrugged. “It’s likely they’ve already heard about our wall. We found plenty of peasants up north who knew we were planning to resist.”
Esk kar pushed the map back to the center of the table. “They won’t change their plans,” he answered firmly. “They won’t believe a wall can stop them. Still, we must take no chances in case a big raiding party arrives early.” He looked at Corio. “How long before the first section is completed?”
Corio must have expected that question. “In a few days, we can seal the main entrance to Orak. The new gate will be ready in a week or so, but until then we can use wagons and men to close it.” He turned toward his eldest son, seated beside him. “Alcinor, you will make the gate functional, even if it’s not fully reinforced, as soon as possible.”
When his son nodded agreement, Corio turned back to Esk kar and the others. “We’ve already speeded up our pace on the wall’s construction.
Materials are arriving in sufficient quantity, and we’ve enough laborers, though we can always use more.” He glanced around the table as he made his commitment. “I will give you your wall at least a month early.”
“What about the ditch?” Nestor inquired. “No one speaks about starting on the ditch.”
“The ditch is the last thing we will do,” Corio said. “Esk kar and I have discussed this. With three or four hundred men, we can dig the ditch completely around Orak in a week or ten days. We’ll do that at the very last moment, so that even if the barbarians learn of the wall, they will not think it very formidable.”