If I survived a challenge to my authority, I’d have to attack the village. For Thutmose — sin to abandon the siege now would be to admit failure, and too many had died in too many clans to allow that. Tempers and hatreds would have exploded in fury last night, and blood would have to spill to settle the score. So if Thutmose — sin remained in control, Esk kar decided, then we can expect an all — out assault today, or more probably, tomorrow.
The Alur Meriki would first try to replace some of the lost wood, and they might need more time to round up their horses.
Esk kar felt certain about one thing. If… when the attack came, it would be unrestrained. The barbarians had more than enough men for one final assault. Every man would be flung at the walls, and it would be victory or disaster for the Alur Meriki. For if they failed, their ranks would be so diminished that other large villages or clans would seize the opportunity to oppose them.
But if Thutmose — sin had been removed, then maybe… there might be a chance that the new leader would move on. The new ruler, whoever he might be, could blame all the failures on his predecessor, could say it was too late in the season to keep fighting, could claim they’d be back in a few years to take their revenge, anything. The Alur Meriki had enough reasons to satisfy those ready to abandon the fight. The clan would move on, and the new leader would be busy for the next few years consoli-dating his power. And there would be plenty of wives, concubines, and horses to distribute to his new supporters-the former property of those killed.
So Orak’s best hope was that Thutmose — sin was dead. Esk kar thought about that, wishing for some way to kill the leader of the Alur Meriki, hoping that some clansman had solved his problem with a knife in Thutmose — sin’s back.
Esk kar stayed on the wall the rest of the day. No attack came, a fact he attributed completely to the raid. At least, no attack on the village. Late in the afternoon, for a few moments, some of those watching the plain claimed to hear more sounds of fighting in the enemy’s camp. But nothing could be seen, and Esk kar heard nothing.
Nevertheless, even if there were no actual fighting, plenty of sharp words and accusations would be exchanged by clan leaders unhappy with Thutmose — sin’s performance. And warriors don’t fight well when their leaders quarrel, he knew, both from his own experience and the old days under the command of Ariamus.
The sun finally set. The soldiers maintained their vigilance throughout the night, taking no chances. Gatus again walked the walls much of the night. Still the pause gave Esk kar time to catch up on his sleep, though dawn found him on the wall again, anxiously watching the hilltops. But the morning sun brought nothing new, and that day passed as well, with no noticeable activity.
With the arrival of darkness, however, the men on the walls saw the lights from campfires reflecting up into the darkness, and these seemed to burn brighter and longer into the night than usual. The men watched and waited throughout the early evening.
Finally Esk kar turned to Sisuthros and Gatus. “I think our waiting is over. Tomorrow… I think it will be tomorrow. They’ll come with the dawn.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Sisuthros answered grimly.
27
A small lamp in the workroom gave more smoke than light, its oil nearly gone. Trella paused to add more, enough to see by. She opened the door to their bedroom and listened to Esk kar’s breathing. At least he’d gotten a few hours of restless sleep. She slipped into bed and put her arms around her husband, letting her body wake him.
Enough light reached the bed to see Esk kar’s eyes open. For a moment he sighed contentedly. Then he tried to sit up, as he remembered what today would bring.
She kept her arms around him. “Stay a moment. It’s more than two hours before dawn.” She buried her face against his chest and held him with all her strength.
He kissed her gently, then turned on his side, keeping one arm around her. “I have to go.”
Trella heard men talking and moving about downstairs, as they prepared for the battle. She knew the sounds called to him and that she must let him go.
“How long have I slept? You said you…”
“Almost three hours. You’ve scarcely slept in three days. Gatus told me to let you sleep.” Her arms couldn’t prevent him from sitting up.
“I must go, Trella. The men need to see me before the battle.”
“I know, husband. Just remember to take care. There’s no need for you to take chances. Let others earn the glory today.”
She stood and watched as he laced up his sandals.
Esk kar took his time, knotting them securely, then stood and buckled on his sword. He hadn’t undressed before lying down. “This is the last battle. For five months we’ve prepared, and now it’s upon us. Today we either win or fall.”
Trella shook her head. “There is never a last battle. Remember that and you won’t act rashly.” She came into his arms and pressed against him, then lifted her arms around his neck. He tried to kiss her, but she clung so tightly all he could do was brush his lips against her forehead.
“Trella, I… you have to let me go.”
She said nothing, but loosened her hold on him and stepped aside, her head downcast.
“Take care for your own self, and remember what I’ve told you if we fail.”
He spoke the words calmly, but their meaning brought pain to her heart. She stood there as he turned and left the room. Trella heard his steps down the stairs. “May the gods go with you, husband, in all the places of danger that you will fi nd today.” She spoke the prayer aloud, but more to herself than to the gods. The tears came, but briefly. She had her own duties to attend to.
Esk kar went first to the well, quenching his thirst and washing his face in the flickering torchlight before returning to the kitchen. A single lamp showed Bantor, Alexar, Grond, and a few others seated at the table. Esk kar joined them, and they picked at the cold fowl and drank the weak ale the women set out. No one spoke, each in his thoughts, occasionally glancing at the tiny window to see if the stars had begun to dim. Each, as he finished eating, took chunks of bread and stuffed them in his pouch before leaving.
There might not be another chance to eat the whole long day.
In the courtyard Esk kar found Sisuthros making sure each man knew his duty and station. Sisuthros hadn’t slept during the night, offering to let the others sleep while he patrolled the walls and prepared its defenders.
In the fl ickering light, Esk kar thanked him for the long night’s work, then clasped his arm in farewell.
Orak slept little during the night, as word spread the barbarians were mustering their forces and would attack at dawn. The commanders and village leaders inspected their men and ordered everyone to be at their station before first light. The cooking fires started early. Villagers and soldiers ate tasteless meals in silence and near — darkness, then drank again from the water jars in preparation for a long, hard day.
Parents, husbands, and lovers said their goodbyes, their voices low, faces grim, their futures uncertain. The whole village felt fear and tension.
By sundown their fate would be decided.
The water wheels had run steadily since yesterday, filling the ditch with as much water as possible. Corio no longer worried about weakening the base of the wall. Senior men inspected weapons, checked water stores, and made sure each man knew his place. Archers strung fresh bowstrings on their bows, then tested them by torchlight. The rasp of sharpening stones grated endlessly, as men honed swords and axes to fighting edges.
Followed by his bodyguards, Esk kar strode to the main gate. Gatus and the other commanders had begun one last circuit of the village. They’d make sure all the men stood ready and at their posts, their weapons, equipment, and tools at hand.
Esk kar found Corio checking the ropes on the parapets that stretched across the gate, Alcinor at his side. The upper, smaller one sagged in the middle under its load of stones. The lower, wider and better supported, held an even greater weight of men and stones. Corio looked ready to collapse from the strain. Fear showed on the faces of both father and son in the torchlight. Today the master builder’s wall and gate would face their greatest
