Another soldier already stood guard outside. She lowered her voice. “Can you send the guard farther away, so we can talk privately?”
The last of Esk kar’s feelings of warmth disappeared. He stepped outside and told the guard to watch the door from beneath the tree, out of earshot. Esk kar returned, shutting the door behind him.
Trella had finished spreading the clean clothes to dry. She came into his arms, putting her face against his chest and squeezing him tight, surprising him with this show of emotion. He felt her body outlined by the damp dress and inhaled the clean river smell from her hair.
Before he could react, she stepped back, took his hand, and led him to the table. They sat facing each other, but she kept hold of his hand.
“Master, I met a girl at the river this afternoon, a slave from Noble Drigo’s house. She had bruises on her face. Drigo’s son had beaten her.
She told me that Drigo wants to ‘put you in your place’ before the meeting tomorrow. I fear Nicar has underestimated Drigo’s intentions.”
A wave of anger went through him at the idea Drigo might interfere with his newfound happiness and prosperity. Then he shrugged. Probably just talk, women’s gossip at the river.
“What can Drigo do, Trella? He can refuse to fight and leave. Or he can stay, and ask that someone else be named captain of the guard. It doesn’t matter to me. I told Nicar I’d deal only with him. If the nobles don’t want to fight, or want someone else for captain of the guard, then you and I will take Gatus and some men and leave.”
“Who else could Drigo put forward as captain?”
Esk kar thought about that. Among the soldiers, only Gatus had enough experience, and he didn’t want the job. Gatus hated Drigo and his gang, and wanted nothing to do with them. He’d been ready to leave before Eskkar talked him out of it last night.
Drigo had plenty of men, all of them carrying swords as they strutted through the village. Their leader, Naxos, Drigo’s personal bodyguard, was dirty and crude. Neither Nicar nor any of the others would entrust their lives and fortunes to Naxos, even if Drigo suggested him.
“I don’t know of anyone else in Orak. Unless there’s someone here I don’t know about, someone who’s fought the barbarians and led men in battle.”
“How many soldiers does Noble Drigo have, master?”
“They’re not soldiers,” he corrected, annoyed at the usual villager confusion between hired guards and trained fighting men. “They’re big and carry swords, but mostly they bully the farmers and tradesmen, men weaker than themselves or unarmed. They’re brave when there’s enough of them, but not one of them could kill the youngest Alur Meriki warrior.”
She said nothing, and it took a moment before he realized he hadn’t answered her question. “Drigo has plenty of guards, more than the other nobles. Maybe nine or ten.”
The determined expression on her face made him consider his words.
Each of the nobles hired his own guards. Paid better than the soldiers, they tended to drink and congregate among themselves. They looked down on the soldiers, and the soldiers had always given way to them. “I think Drigo may have hired a few more in the last few weeks.”
“And the other nobles, how many men do they have?”
Esk kar had already started down that path. Each of the nobles had at least seven or eight armed men. Even without Nicar’s guards, that meant the others outnumbered the thirty remaining soldiers. The last of his feelings of contentment vanished.
“Would those other guards follow Drigo’s man, this Naxos?”
Esk kar took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Trella. They’d do as their masters told them, but without orders… they’d probably listen to Drigo’s man.”
“Tomorrow morning I’ll go back to the river. Drigo’s slave said she might return an hour after sunup. You won’t meet with Nicar until midmorning, and perhaps she’ll be able to tell us something more.”
“If she doesn’t get her throat slit for telling tales on her master,” Esk kar said. He’d heard the same stories about Drigo’s household.
“I gave her two copper coins for what she told me and promised her more tomorrow, master. If you approve.”
The polite request made him smile. “Give her a handful, if she learns anything useful.” Esk kar certainly had changed his ideas about gold overnight. “I’ll need to think about what Drigo and Naxos might do in the next few days.”
She shook her head. “Tomorrow, master. You don’t have two or three days. Whatever Drigo plans, it will be tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand across the table. “What do you think he might try?”
He looked at her, wondering how she had gotten him so worried over a few chance words. If he’d heard the same words himself, he might have laughed them off or ignored them. Trella’s perception gave them weight.
“I was surprised when Nicar sent for me. There must not have been anyone else he could turn to. If I’d said last night that Orak couldn’t be defended, Nicar would have given up the idea of resisting.” That much seemed true enough, he decided. “If I were gone, then…”
“Or if you were dead,” Trella said. “Then Drigo could take charge of the soldiers, get rid of the ones he didn’t need or couldn’t control, and Orak would be his.”
“What would that gain him? The barbarians would still come, and he still wouldn’t fight them.”
“The barbarians won’t be here for months. If Drigo controls the sixty or so soldiers and guards, plus any more that he might hire, then who could stop him from doing whatever he wants? Taking whatever he wants?
He could plunder the entire village, take the loot across the river, then return when the barbarians left. With enough men and gold he could rebuild Orak as his own. He wouldn’t need Nicar or any of the other nobles. He’d rule Orak alone.”
She waited a moment, but he didn’t say anything. “Drigo didn’t count on you, didn’t expect you to convince Nicar. Now even the villagers think of you as the one man not afraid of the barbarians. I don’t think Noble Drigo likes that.”
Esk kar’s anger rose up. He wanted Trella to be wrong. Curse these nobles and their schemes. Now he was threatened by them. He struck the table with his fist, saw Trella’s eyes go wide. He got up and went to the door. Opening it, he called out to the guard. “Find someone to fetch Gatus right away. Then get back here to your post.”
Trella’s hand touched his arm. She’d followed him to the door. “Send for Adad also. You should keep him close by tonight. He was with me today and saw me talk to the girl. He might mention to someone that I spoke to one of Drigo’s women.”
Her suggestion annoyed him. Esk kar knew Trella had gone to the river and a guard had accompanied her. But he would never have thought of what that guard might do or say in his off — duty hours. He raised his voice and called after the already moving guard. “Bring Adad back with you! I want him guarding my quarters tonight.”
He closed the door so hard it shook, then stepped over to the hook where his sword hung. He belted it around his waist. The gesture might look foolish, but he felt better with the sword at his hip. The room seemed to close in around him, the air close and stale. He had to get out. “It’s almost dark, Trella. Stay inside for the rest of the night.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I need to think by myself for a moment.” In truth he felt himself coming under her influence, doing what she wished instead of making his own decisions. He jerked the door open and went outside.
He walked over to the tree, then leaned against it. The scent of roasting chickens hung in the air, floating in from the street.
Esk kar had lost his appetite. He’d wanted to walk with Trella into the village tonight, showing her off to everyone, then stopping at one of the inns for wine and dinner. His hand clenched the sword hilt in frustration.
Now he’d stay here, afraid to leave his room, worried about a knife in his back. He didn’t fear any of Drigo’s hired bullies. Not alone. But three or four together could bring down any man. The urge to leave Orak swept over him. Take Trella and go. There was plenty of Nicar’s gold left. In moments he could be on a horse. The guards at the gate would open it for him, one way or another.
Esk kar swore a string of oaths at Nicar, the nobles, Ariamus, and especially the villagers who’d distrusted and hated him behind his back for years, and who now wanted him to save their cowardly lives and miserable
