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.”
Trella questioned the boy for another few moments, but eventually she sat back and looked at Esk kar. “Well, Simcar, you were very brave.
Now I think Esk kar would like to ask you a few things. Do you need to rest first?”
The boy shook his head.
By now Esk kar had only two questions. “Simcar,” he began, keeping his voice calm, “where is this great pile of wood and carts, and do you know if they keep a guard on it?”
“Yes, lord. The wood is stored behind the rise to the south. My mother and I tried to get close once, but the guards there threw stones and chased us off. They knew we wanted to steal firewood. There’s always a guard there, otherwise women would take all the wood and use it for the campfires. I think,” he paused to remember, “I think there were three or four men guarding it.”
Gatus and Sisuthros had other questions but they learned little more.
After a while, Trella suggested they let Simcar get some rest. She escorted the boy to the door and turned him over to Annok — sur before returning to the table.
“Best to let him sleep for a few hours, then we can go over his story again. He may remember something else of importance.” Trella leaned back in her chair and looked at the three men.
“Well, we knew they were coming soon,” Gatus said, shifting in his seat and twisting his shoulders. They’d scarcely moved for nearly an hour, not wanting to disturb the boy’s tale. Sisuthros poured water for all of them.
“And we know how and where,” Esk kar finished. “This time there will be nothing held back. Thutmose — sin must win or lose control. Too many men have died. The other chiefs will try to kill him the moment the attack fails. Even his own clan won’t be able to protect him.”
“We can strengthen the gate,” Sisuthros suggested in a whisper, his words still coming with difficulty.
“Aye, we can do that well enough,” Gatus agreed. “We’ll need a lot more water at the gate, for one thing.” But he didn’t sound confident, and all three men knew water alone wasn’t going to stop the burning.
“I thought if we knew their plans,” Esk kar said, “we might do something, raid the camp, stampede the horses, anything… but all that isn’t important now and wouldn’t even delay their attack. And we can’t get to the store of wood. It’s too far from the walls and we’d have to get past both their sentries and the armed party. By the time we fought our way through, the whole camp would be roused.”
“It would take too long to start fires and burn the wood anyway,” Gatus agreed. “And if you took enough men to do the task, they’d hear you coming, just as we heard them.”
No one said anything. Trella stood and went to the cabinet. She withdrew a map of Orak and its surroundings, a copy of the one Corio had shown them months ago. She unrolled it across the table and smoothed the surface with care. “Can you show me where the wood is stored?” she asked, as the men instinctively moved closer. Sisuthros sat on the table’s edge and leaned over Gatus’s shoulder.
Gatus picked up the wooden pointing stick rolled up inside the papyrus.
“Here. If the boy is right, this must be where the wood is being collected.
These hills are high enough to keep us from seeing what’s behind them.
They could’ve been moving anything there for days without our noticing.”
Esk kar stared at the map. The site was too far from Orak’s walls, a mile at least and well to the south. Even if a raiding party got there, none would ever return alive, even at night.
“And where do they keep the horses?” Trella continued. “I couldn’t follow what Simcar said about the river.”
Gatus moved the pointer. “Here. We can even see one herd from the walls.”
Esk kar took the pointer from Gatus’s hand. “If I were in charge, with that many horses, there would be at least three herds, each a few hundred paces apart, with rope corrals to keep them separate and hold them in against the river.”
“That makes sense,” Gatus said. “The curve of the river and the rise of the ground would make that the easiest way to control big herds like that.”
He looked at Esk kar. “How many in each herd? Three or four hundred?”
Esk kar closed his eyes and tried to visualize the land. He’d seen it often enough, even ridden along it once or twice during the last preparations for the siege. Opening his eyes and pointing to the land closest to Orak, “I’d put the largest herd here, probably close to four hundred horses. Then about three hundred each in the other two places.” He looked up at Trella and saw that she continued to stare at the map.
“It would be good to set fire to the wood they’ve prepared, isn’t that right?” Trella asked, her eyes directly on Esk kar. “If we could destroy it, then they might not be able to attack.”
“Yes, that would set them back considerably, maybe even stop the fire attack or at least weaken it. They’ve stripped the land bare for lumber and there can’t be much more left out there, even if they could find and bring it here.”
“But you can’t raid the wood store, because it’s too far.” She pointed to the place where they guessed the main herd was kept. “But you could raid the horses, could you not? I mean, in the place closest to us. What would you do there?”
Esk kar didn’t answer because he caught the glimmer of her idea and began to think it through. Shifting in his chair, he began to think aloud.
“We could move a small party out at night, either slip them by the sentries or kill them silently. Then we could stampede the horses and drive as many of them as we could into the river. The current is swift there and many would drown, while others would be swept downstream. The whole camp would be in an uproar, and every warrior would rush to the river to see to his horses. Then…” he moved the pointer back to the location of the wood, “during the confusion, we could slip another party through the lines to this place and we could burn the wagons.”
Sisuthros let out a sound that could have been a laugh if his wound weren’t so painful, and Gatus swore softly before answering. “Attacking their horses would draw every man to the river, I’d bet my life on it. We could slip in, burn the carts, and race back to the walls. But it would take time to fire the wagons.”
