the river and could occasionally wash themselves clean. Each evening, their work completed, villagers came to stare at the wall, which grew longer and longer each day.
The wall now extended one hundred feet on both sides of where the new gate would be. Each side grew at least twenty feet every day, arms spreading themselves wide to encompass all of Orak.
Corio’s oldest son, Alcinor, directed the construction of the main gate.
It would be made of heavy beams carefully shaped and closely joined by the carpenters, all fire — hardened to resist flame arrows, and reinforced with wide bronze strips. Inside the gate, holes were lined with stones for the bracing logs that would reinforce the structure when closed.
Underneath the gate, a trench six feet wide and ten feet deep had already been dug. This pit would be completely filled with heavy stones and packed with the usual mud and straw mix, creating a solid foundation that would frustrate any attempts to dig under the structure. Soon the gate would be functional, though not fully completed, and would enclose the new, extended boundaries of the village.
Each day more than a dozen boats arrived carrying timber of all types and sizes. Finished tools, weapons, and leather goods came by land and by river. Food and wine disembarked as well, to help swell Orak’s storehouses for the siege. Word had gone out throughout the countryside as well as up and down the great river, and other villages proved eager either to assist in resisting the barbarians or simply to make a profit.
Boats filled with costly copper and tin arrived regularly. Desperately needed by the bronze workers for dozens of items, the ores were in short supply and difficult to obtain. The mines lay many miles distant, and produced only a small output from their pits each day, since only slaves could be forced to labor in them. For some mysterious reason, slaves died quickly in the mines, few of them lasting more than six months. Esk kar learned this was why it took so much gold and silver to buy copper and tin.
But Esk kar demanded bronze weapons, and only these ores could be turned into the lustrous metal, and so Nicar’s gold kept flowing. Orak’s smiths labored from dawn to dusk, transmuting the raw ores into gleaming bronze weapons and tools.
Timber from the north ranked as the second most important cargo, as wood was needed not only for the gate, but to reinforce the walls and parapets, to make shields for the soldiers, and even as firewood for the forges.
Other ships brought the first deliveries of weapons-finished swords, spears, and even bows and arrows, in addition to those made in Orak. The boats used by the river’s sailors were small, propelled by a few oars and perhaps a tiny sail, and they couldn’t carry much cargo, but more arrived daily as word about Orak’s needs continued to spread throughout the land.
Each boat captain rushed to unload his vessel, take on his trade goods or payment, and return whence he came for another consignment.
The dockmaster permitted no other cargoes to land, except for food and wine, though Esk kar had no doubt other goods somehow managed to smuggle their way inside.
A large market had sprouted at the docks where traders bought and sold the ships’ contents each day. The Families of Decca and Rebba took responsibility for that function, buying and selling, and making sure the prices stayed reasonable.
Esk kar didn’t trust any of the Families, certain that if they had the opportunity, they would steal from the village. To guard against that, Nicar and his clerks assisted as well, checking the accounts and watching the cargo manifests. It seemed to be working, since every merchant and ship-master complained of being robbed, while the Families shouted that they were being reduced to poverty. But the trading never stopped, and each day the boats continued to arrive and depart.
Gatus trained the men hard each day. He and Esk kar argued for a full day before Esk kar gave his approval to Gatus’s novel ideas. The old soldier wanted to train the men to fight in units of ten. Esk kar had never heard of such a thing before, nor had any of the men. But Gatus fought hard for his ideas, declaring the archers would be more effective if they fought this way, and that foot soldiers could support each other in battle. Esk kar eventually agreed, since there would soon be so many men under arms that some organization would be needed just to control them.
As soon as Gatus began his new regimen, Esk kar saw the benefits-the men’s morale improved along with their effectiveness.
Veterans had four hours of training, either at sunup or an hour past noon. When they finished training, they worked for Sisuthros or Bantor, or taught the new recruits, who trained all day long. The training for the new men was even harder because they needed to be physically fit in order to fight well. In exchanging sword strokes, the weaker man or the one who tired first usually died, and Esk kar wanted men who could fight and kill for hours if need be.
So Gatus made them run holding heavy logs over their heads until they staggered and fell, then put swords in their trembling hands and made them hack at the posts until their hands blistered and bled before hardening into calluses. Sometimes the men formed ranks and marched with their shields and spears, holding the heavy weapon aloft to strengthen arm muscles.
Then, thirsty, shaken, and exhausted, they stood at the archery range and shot arrows until each man hit his target fifty times, no matter how many arrows it took. Gatus and his men watched to make sure each man drew the shaft fully and aimed it properly. Wooden rods awaited any that shirked. And each day the targets moved a few feet farther back, until after three weeks of training, even the newest recruits could hit the mark at sixty paces five times out of six.
When the men finished their session, they rested by retrieving the target arrows from the butts and preparing them for the next group. Bowstrings had to be checked and replaced as needed. A well — made bowstring would launch between two and three hundred arrows before breaking or stretching, and it took the effort of a dozen women working all day to weave and braid the coarse flax into suitable bowstrings.
Esk kar did his part as well, first training with regular men, then working with the recruits. The new men felt proud, knowing their captain didn’t think himself too haughty to sweat with them for a few hours each day.
It made the training more bearable for them, as did his encouragements.
“You miserable dogs,” he shouted at them, “I want you to be more afraid of Gatus and me than any barbarian.”
And each day a few villagers, mostly old women and children, came to watch the training and cheer the men on. Esk kar permitted this so everyone would know the soldiers worked as hard as those straining at their loads of dirt and rock.
Trella constantly reminded Esk kar that he must befriend the villagers, make them aware of what he did for them, and change them into his supporters. “Your strength,” she reminded him, “lies in making sure the people believe you are defending them, not just the rich merchants.”
So he forced himself to say a few words of encouragement or a simple hello to the villagers each day. Esk kar felt strange doing it, but he soon grew used to it. He now trusted Trella completely. If she believed something was important, then Esk kar would do it even if he didn’t understand why.
Amazingly, all of it was working. The mood of the soldiers and recruits stayed positive, reinforced by the steady progress of the wall as it slowly crept across the face of Orak. It grew at least twenty feet each day, and Corio promised more as the workers’ skills improved.
Esk kar’s body had hardened once again, and he made sure that he grunted under the logs with the weakest men to build his own strength.
If they could keep up this pace and the barbarians didn’t arrive before the wall’s completion, the whole plan might work.
Esk kar had never thought villagers could be trained well enough to beat barbarians one on one, but now, seeing their progress, he began to think differently. Men had been trained as soldiers before, but never under the threat of a barbarian migration. Gatus and the other commanders became more experienced and efficient in their training methods. If the villagers could fight the barbarians on their terms, if the barbarians did what Esk kar expected, if they didn’t come too early, if… if… if.
Each night in bed, Esk kar whispered his doubts and worries to Trella.
He, who’d never shared his thoughts with anyone in his life, talked openly to Trella, who reassured him if she could or held him tight when she couldn’t. Their lovemaking became less frequent but more intense, as if they shared a burden that threatened to overwhelm them.
