into fists.
“Can you understand the map, Esk kar? Many men have trouble understanding the lines and representations.”
The question had been repeated, and Esk kar focused his thoughts on the map again, looking carefully to see the location of the village, river, docks, palisade, farms, and the two roads that met a mile from the village before joining to carry the traffic into and out of Orak.
“Yes, it’s clear enough.”
He’d scratched out enough maps in the dirt while campaigning, and the papyrus made everything easier to follow. Reaching out with his finger, he started to trace the river.
“Please, Captain, don’t touch the sheet with your hands. The inks may smear from the wetness of your fingers, and papyrus is delicate. Use this pointer.” He handed Esk kar a small piece of soft wood with a bluntly rounded tip.
Taking the pointer, Esk kar identified aloud the key points on the map, even noting the directions for north and south, indicated by an arrow point in one corner. Corio explained the few details he didn’t understand.
A glance at Trella showed she, too, grasped what the map represented.
“You do well, Esk kar,” remarked Corio. “Some men have trouble with the scale of the drawing. Now, show me where you’d have your wall and what you would exclude.”
Esk kar didn’t know what Corio meant by the word scale, but he decided not to ask, especially since he was supposed to understand it. He repeated the word to himself, to remind himself to ask Trella later.
“The wall should go to here, Corio, here, and then back to the river’s edge.” Esk kar touched the map lightly with the pointer. “And these places will be flooded, turned into a swamp. I want to force the barbarians to send their main force at the front of Orak, where my men can kill them from the top of the wall.
“Also, the wall on the river side should be extended as close to the bank as possible so that the barbarians cannot gather enough men to rush the wall from the rear or sides. At the front of the village, I will kill them by pouring arrows down on them.”
Corio sat silent for a long moment before he looked up. “The barbarians have seen wooden fences before and learned to use ladders and ropes against them. They’ll use the same tactics against a wall. If your men are busy using their bows, how will they stop men on ladders?”
“I’ve used such ladders myself, against stockades such as our own. A length of wood with a fork on the end can be used to throw the ladder down. Two women, pushing together, can shove back a ladder, even with a warrior on it.”
Esk kar didn’t bother to add he had firsthand experience with that practice, having been thrown down himself and nearly skewered on his sword in the process. “That’s why we need a true wall, a strong structure that cannot be pulled down or burned, and that gives us enough room to position two or three rows of archers to defend it.”
Corio went into another of his long trances, seeming to stare at the map. Esk kar used the moment to glance at Trella. She appeared confident and gave him a quick smile of encouragement.
The master builder took a deep breath and looked up. “When I came here this morning, I expected to tell you truthfully that it was impossible to build a wall around Orak in the time we have. It is not possible to construct a wall of that length and twenty — five feet high, not in the time available. Such a height would require too much strengthening and support work. Also, the base would require preparation and settling. How about a height of about fifteen feet?”
Esk kar had to stop and think, trying to visualize the height in his mind.
He knew fifteen feet to be a little less than the height of three village men. Barbarians tended to be taller, though most of them stood less than six feet tall. But a fit rider could stand on the back of his horse and jump high enough to pull himself over fifteen feet of wall. Even dead horses and men could be used as stepping stones, and ladders that high could be easily constructed and carried.
“No, that’s not high enough,” Esk kar replied, explaining his reasons, sensing even as he did so that Corio already had an answer.
“I suggest, Esk kar, that we make the wall fourteen or fifteen feet high, but that in the front of the wall, we dig a ditch at least ten feet deep and at least thirty feet wide. That would effectively make the height of the wall the twenty — five feet you want.”
When Esk kar didn’t reply, Corio hastened to add, “It’s much easier to dig a ditch than build a wall. And any villager can dig. The dirt from the ditch can be used to make the mud bricks that will form the wall, and the earth and stones can be used for fill.”
Corio had thought all this through. The idea of a ditch was new, something Esk kar had never seen or heard of. He pictured himself standing at the bottom of such a ditch, looking up. The wall would indeed appear to be twenty — five feet high. “Wouldn’t the ditch weaken the wall at the base?”
Esk kar knew solid earth was needed to support a walled structure.
A smile crossed Corio’s face. “You’re quicker than most men, Esk kar, to think of that. But no, the ditch wouldn’t come all the way to the wall’s base.
It would stop about one long pace away, and we would taper the slope to make it difficult to stand on. The bottom of the wall would be reinforced with stones to make it difficult to dig through. That way, the base of the wall retains its support, and the attackers cannot easily dig the foundation away.”
Corio’s own words seemed to give him some discomfort. “You realize, Captain, that if the barbarians begin digging at the base of the wall, then eventually it will weaken and begin to crumble.”
“If we allow them time to dig at the base of the wall, then we are lost.
Stones, arrows, spears, everything will be used to stop them. No, they’ll not have time to dig.”
“Master Corio,” Trella asked politely, “could the ditch be flooded with water from the river?”
Corio started to say something, then paused, perhaps remembering again what happened to young Drigo. “No, if we flood the ditch, then the water itself might weaken the earth at the wall’s base. If we had more time, we could line the ditch with stones and logs to reinforce it.” Corio finished with a condescending smile.
Trella hadn’t finished. “Still, Master Corio, if we flooded the ditch just a little, for a day or two, might it not turn the ditch into a river of mud which would rob the attackers of their footing?”
“Yes, but the mud would dry after a few days, and the ditch would be as it was before,” he explained a little less patiently, again drumming his fingers on the table.
Esk kar decided Corio wasn’t used to listening to suggestions from slaves, and young female ones at that.
“Master Corio, what if we were to flood the ditch every few days, or whenever it began to dry out?”
“If we are locked inside the walls, Trella, we won’t have access to the river to open trenches at our will.” The fingers drummed even faster on the tabletop, and Corio’s reply sounded final.
Trella went on, ignoring the little signs of impatience. “We could use water from the wells inside the village. The wells in Orak are steadily refilled from the river. Could not a water wheel be built to lift the water over the walls?”
The fingers stopped their drumming and the confident smile vanished from Corio’s face. What in the name of the gods was a water wheel? But Esk kar saw that the master builder understood the words. The man went into another of his long moments of thought. Abruptly, Corio arose from the table, strode to the doorway, and passed outside into the sunlight.
Eskkar got up also, curious about whatever was outside, winked at Trella and went to stand in the doorway. To his surprise, he found five of Corio’s apprentices and helpers squatting in the dirt, each carrying a different bundle. One boy had only a large drawing slate hanging from his neck. Corio spoke quietly with his senior apprentice, a man about his own age. The talk went on for some time. Eskkar felt Trella’s arm on his back, slipping up under his tunic and rubbing at the hard muscles on his shoulders.
“What’s a water wheel?” he asked absently, watching Corio. Another apprentice had been summoned into the conversation. This one handed his bag to another and dashed off down the lane. Corio resumed his discussion with his assistant, both of them becoming more animated.
“It’s a tool we used in our village to draw water from the river. With it, a few slaves could easily lift many barrels of water from the river.”
Corio turned from the assistant and walked back toward them.
