Authors: Sam Barone
He smiled, then pulled the cloak off her shoulders, so he could gaze at her body in the faint light from the stars and the torches. The longer he looked at her, the stronger the urge became to take her right there in the garden. The guards would hear the noise and come to investigate, not that he cared about what they saw or thought.
“Then we should return to our chamber, wife.” He pulled the cloak back around her and took her hand, then walked her back into the house, nodding at the guards whose smiles were tinged with envy at their fortunate commander.
Wide awake now, they returned to their bed. Esk kar forgot his worries and made love to his wife, a task that took considerable time as each seemed to hunger for the other. Trella seemed on fire, her own urges demanding satisfaction. Even after the passion overcame her, it only whetted her appetite for him, and it was a long time before they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, sweat - soaked, the bedding a mess of twisted blankets.
Neither of them knew or cared that the shaking and half - muffled cries had awakened half the household and brought smiles to the guards who paced the courtyard below. When they’d finished, Esk kar held her close, before he fell into a deep sleep.
The alarm drum roused him instantly, the rapid beating telling him an attack was in progress, even before the soldiers’ shouts penetrated his consciousness. Esk kar jumped to his feet, pulling on his undergarment and grabbing his sword before Trella was fully awake. He raced barefoot down the stairs, following the reserve soldiers as they ran down the street to the north wall.
As he ran his fear increased, since they headed toward the site that he had deemed most suitable for a night attack. Esk kar heard the clash of swords, but by the time he reached the wall the fighting had ended.
“Down, Captain!” someone shouted, even as an arrow hissed by his head. Cursing under his breath and bent double, Esk kar scuttled swiftly along the wall until he found Jalen. His subcommander had everything under control. Villagers shoved torches attached to poles out over the ditch, giving the crouched archers some targets. As usual, the nighttime attack initially favored the enemy, who could put their archers in place in the darkness while the defenders would be outlined against the wall and lighted from behind. Barbarian arrows had killed at least two men, as Eskkar saw by the bodies lying below the parapet.
But by this time the parapet held at least forty archers, and volleys of arrows flew into the darkness. Gradually the shafts from the attackers came less frequently. More torches added their light but little now remained to be seen.
Jalen finally had time to report. “A guard heard them splashing in the ditch and gave the alarm. Their arrows drove us down and they tried to climb the wall. Stones soon put a stop to that, and three who reached the top were killed.” He looked around for a moment. “This was a real assault, not just a raid. I saw at least a hundred men out there. Did they attack anywhere else?”
“I don’t know. Gatus was at the command table, and I heard only one alarm. Can you hold here?”
“Yes, we’ve plenty of stones, and the men are wide awake now.”
“I’ll go check with Gatus.” Esk kar gripped his subcommander’s shoulder for a moment, then swung down from the parapet. He dropped lightly to the ground below and raced back to the command house, now lit more brightly than when he had left it. He found Gatus speaking to several soldiers, all looking tense but displaying no signs of panic.
Gatus answered his question before he could even ask it. “No other attacks, Captain. Only on the north wall. Does Jalen have everything he needs?”
So the reports had come in smoothly to the command table. Esk kar could have stayed here and learned just as much without his mad dash.
Well, next time he’d know better and keep his head. “Yes, but keep the messengers busy.”
Gatus stared at him, and Esk kar realized he’d given another unnecessary order. Maybe I should have stayed in bed, he decided, since Gatus had everything under control. “I’ll take a horse and check the walls myself, Gatus.” At least that would give him something to do.
He found a horse and swung onto its back. In his rush to the attack site, Esk kar had forgotten that, by his own order, a horse was always kept ready for his use. Instead he had followed the running men. Curses flowed steadily under his breath as he jerked the horse’s head harder than necessary and began to canter toward the rear gate.
Someday, he swore, if he lived long enough, he would learn to think before acting. He made the circuit of the walls not once but twice, taking his time and speaking to the men, urging them to keep silent and to listen for the sounds of men on the move. Three hours later he returned home, to try and get some sleep before dawn.
In their bedroom Esk kar hung up his sword, then sank onto the bed, as reaction to the long night began to set in. Trella lay down next to him and took his hand.
At that moment a hard knocking came from the outer door. “Lady Trella … Captain … please open the door.” They heard Annok - sur’s voice.
Esk kar pushed himself up off the bed, knowing something important had occurred or they wouldn’t have troubled him. Trella reached the door first and unbolted it, to find Annok - sur standing there.
“Jalen sends word for you to come. A slave boy escaped from the enemy camp.”
Seated at the big table in his workroom, Esk kar waited for the strange boy to finish his meal. Simcar claimed to have twelve seasons, but his stick -
thin body looked younger. Trella and Annok - sur had insisted on cleaning the boy up first. When Trella escorted him to the workroom, Esk kar, Gatus, and Sisuthros waited, eager to learn what the boy could tell them.
But then Trella had insisted the boy first eat his fill. So the three tired soldiers, who had no sleep that night, watched Simcar eat and drink. Eskkar had to admit the boy looked as if he hadn’t enjoyed a real meal in months. Finally the eating slowed and at last stopped.
“Now, Simcar, tell us who you are and what you’ve seen,” Trella began encouragingly, reaching over and wiping the boy’s mouth with a bit of rag, then taking his hand and holding it. “Take your time and tell us everything.”
Simcar’s eyes widened, nervous under the gaze of the men. At first he had trouble speaking, his voice high and uncertain, but under Trella’s smiles he gradually gained confidence.
“Three months ago, the Alur Meriki raided my father’s farm. We lived in the lands to the north. They killed my older brother, but they wanted us for slaves. They beat all of us, and we had to work very hard just to get something to eat.”
“Did you learn their language, Simcar?” Trella smiled at the boy.
“Oh, yes, we had to learn fast. They beat us every time we didn’t understand. My mother helped me, as long as she could.”
“What happened to your family?”
“They killed my father a few weeks ago. He did something bad … I’m not sure what. My mother is a slave to one of their clan leaders. I don’t know what happened to my sister.”
Esk kar saw moisture in the boy’s eyes, but pretended not to notice.
“I’m sorry for your family.” Trella patted his shoulder. “What made you run away from them?”
“My mother told me. She said I had to try to escape to Orak. She’d heard the stories about the fighting, and said this was my best chance. I didn’t want to leave her, but …” Simcar’s voice choked, and he stopped for a moment. “She told me to sneak across the plain if the night attack failed, that they wouldn’t be looking for anyone trying to get into Orak.”
“You’re safe now, Simcar,” Trella said reassuringly. “Your mother was right to send you here. But we need to ask you some questions. We’re trying to find out what attacks the Alur Meriki have planned. Can you help us?”
Esk kar and the others leaned closer, each of them with a dozen questions but they’d agreed to let Trella guide the boy through his story. Eskkar forced himself to smile to conceal his impatience. “You were very brave to slip through their lines, Simcar. Go on.”
The boy brightened at the compliment, and Trella began her questions.
What were the other boys like? Were there many women in the camp? Was there enough food for all the boys? How did the animals look? Well fed or lean? Was water in plentiful supply? How about firewood? What did you eat each day? What did the other boys say about Orak? How did the warriors look? Were they angry or patient? Did you see any clan chiefs? What were they like? Did you hear anyone speak about them in anger? Where were the horses? How many were there? Were there many guards? Did the warriors quarrel among themselves. Over what?
With each question Simcar’s replies grew longer and more detailed, as if he were proud of the fact he’d noticed all the things Trella inquired about. Esk kar kept the smile fixed on his face and by now Gatus and Sisuthros had taken the hint and nodded encouragement to the boy as well, masking their eagerness as best they could. Esk kar saw Gatus biting his lip and Sisuthros’s hand gripping the edge of the table. But Trella chatted away, keeping her tone light and her questions short, stopping once to ask if Simcar wanted more food or water.
Gradually the picture unfolded and Esk kar realized he was seeing the Alur Meriki encampment through the boy’s eyes. The large central camp, fl anked by two smaller ones. The herds of horses pastured up against the river. Another, smaller herd kept to the south, though the grass was poorer there—the lands closest to the river had already started to see some re-growth after the burning. The wagons and carts moving to and fro, changing owners as men died in the fighting and their wives and possessions were taken or traded to the remaining warriors. The path the women and girls took to get water from the river.
From the boy’s story Esk kar visualized the line of sentries hidden beyond the low hills that overlooked the approaches to and from the village.
A band of forty or fifty warriors waited behind the sentries, in constant readiness to prevent anyone from trying to enter or leave the village, or to repel any sorties from the gate. Esk kar could almost hear the women weeping late into the night and the sullen looks of the boys whose fathers had been killed.
As Simcar went on Esk kar pictured the warriors’ angry faces as they strode about the camp, unable to attack the village, yet with no other target for their rage within fifty miles. Fighting men forced to remain in idle-ness, with too much time on their hands, and not even the usual activity of the day’s march to occupy them. Naturally they would take to drinking and quarreling when the sun went down.
Simcar had been talking for some time and Trella’s questions became more direct as she and the boy grew comfortable with each other. “… so, Simcar, did you hear of any plans the Alur Meriki have to attack Orak?”
The question seemed casual, but Esk kar found himself leaning forward a little more.
“Yes, Lady Trella. Six nights ago their leader, Thutmose - sin, met with the council, and I decided to go listen to them talk about the battle.” By now the words flowed easily from his lips. “I crept up to the campfires and found a place where I and some other boys could watch and listen. We heard them plan how they would attack Orak at night.”
Under the table, Esk kar’s hand knotted into a fist again and he had to force himself to relax it. If the boy had heard their plans …
“And no one chased you away?” Trella poured more water into Simcar’s cup.
Simcar took several large swallows before replying. “No, the guards didn’t care, and there were many others even closer. So I went again last night, after the battle. The chiefs met again, along with many of the warriors. There was much shouting and pushing, and Thutmose - sin raised his voice many times. The guards didn’t even notice us this time, there were so many warriors there. They wanted to listen, too. I could only hear them when they raised their voices, but they did that a lot.”
Trella patted his shoulder. “Tell us what you heard. Start from the beginning.”
“Well, Thutmose - sin began talking about why the night attack did not succeed. He blamed one of the other chiefs for the … failure.” Simcar had to stop to think of the right word. “Said it was something he’d told them wouldn’t work. He was very angry that they had been defeated. There was more shouting and cursing. Some raised their fists against Thutmose - sin.
Others said the Alur Meriki should move on, that there was little to gain here even if the fire attack is successful.”
“What’s the ‘fire attack,’ Simcar,” Trella asked unconcernedly, picking at some threads on her dress, merely another in the long list of questions.
“Is that something special that they have planned?”
“Oh, yes! They have loaded a great number of carts, all piled high with wood and logs and anything that will burn, enough to burn the whole village down, my master says. They’ll place the carts against the gate and set fire to it until the gate is burned away. They’ve been collecting wood from the countryside for more than a week, soaking it in the black oil or drying it in the sun.”
“What else did they say about the fire attack?” Trella’s voice remained soothing, as if this topic were no more important than questions about the camp’s food.
“Well, nothing more. Thutmose - sin said the fire attack would succeed, that the other attacks had just wasted time and men. They argued about it for a long time, and then everyone just left and went back to their tents.”
So Thutmose - sin remained the great chief, Esk kar thought. All these months and they hadn’t even been sure who led the Alur Meriki. But now Thutmose - sin’s time was running out. The sarrum argued openly with his chiefs and nothing less than a quick victory would save him. He’d failed to capture Orak, so he would be doubly dangerous as desperation forced his hand.
“Do you know when they will come with the fire wagons, or how?”
Trella went on. Once again she held Simcar’s hand and smiled at him.
“Oh, yes, Lady Trella, it will be soon. I heard all about it from my friend. All the camp knew of the plans. They’ll use great wooden shields to protect them from the archers. Then they’ll heap the dry timber against the gate. They’ll fire the wood and keep adding more until the gate is destroyed. Then they will cross the ditch and attack through the gate.”