Caldor’s terror was complete now. “Father, please! She’s only a slave!
Give him silver, no, gold to satisfy him!”
Nicar’s son knew the customs of the village. If a man injured another man’s slave, or even killed him, the usual penalty was ten silver coins. “He can buy ten women better than her! I can’t die over a slave! Please, father!
Please!..” His voice trailed off.
“You fool, Caldor!” Nicar, his face red with anger as he twisted helplessly in the guard’s arms, shouted the words at his son. “She’s not a slave! Esk kar freed her before he left the village, witnessed in secret before myself and Corio. They were married by the priest in Ishtar’s temple. She’s his wife!”
Everyone looked at Esk kar in astonishment
“Let him go,” Esk kar said to the guards holding Nicar’s arms.
Nicar stood there, swaying on his feet. Then he stepped forward and struck his son across the face, a hard blow that knocked him backward off his knees. “You foolish child! You’ve tried to kill a free woman, not a slave.”
Nicar struggled to catch his breath. He looked ready to collapse.
“Nicar.” Esk kar stepped toward him. The soldiers waited for the order that would slay Caldor and his father. “Nicar, you’ve shown nothing but respect for me and Trella. I gave you my word to defend Orak because I saw how much the village means to you. So I’ll spare your life, even the life of your foolish son.”
Esk kar glanced around at the soldiers, who listened in shock to his words. “Instead, I’ll leave Orak. If the Families want to get rid of me so badly, I’ll save them the trouble. As soon as Trella can ride, we’re leaving Orak. You can defeat the barbarians yourself, or not. It will mean nothing to me. If any wish to follow me, they are welcome.”
He turned toward Bantor. “Release Nicar’s child,” he said scornfully, then turned again to face Nicar. “Now go. Take your gold and hope by all the gods that I never see your son again.”
Bantor didn’t move. No one moved. No one said anything as the moments passed by. Even Nicar stood frozen, until Caldor’s voice broke the spell.
“Yes, Father, yes! Take me home. Let the barbarian go! Let him go!”
Gatus slapped his hand on his sword. “By Marduk, I’ll go with you! I’ll not fight for cowards who would stab a woman in the back. But first I’ll take care of this little shit.” He pulled the weapon from its sheath and stepped toward Caldor.
Esk kar blocked Gatus. “No. Put your sword away.”
Bantor spoke. “I, too, will go with you.” He stepped past Esk kar and used his foot to push Caldor back down. “And any of the men who want to fight.”
Sisuthros joined in, and his voice rose up over all the others. “We’ll all go! We don’t need Orak. We can build our own village to the west with Esk kar as our leader. Better to build and battle for our own than to fight for cowards and murderers.”
A roar of assent went up, echoing off the courtyard walls into the night sky. Swords flashed in the torchlight. The men called out Esk kar or Trella’s name, others shouted “death to Caldor.”
Outside the courtyard, men took up the cry. Dozens had listened from the edge of the garden, hanging over the top of the wall to see and hear what went on. But others joined in, repeating the shouts from the courtyard, without fully understanding what had happened.
Esk kar stood there. He could scarcely believe what he heard. Never had he seen such emotion, such loyalty. No leader, no war chief, no village noble had ever been cheered like this. Right now, these men would follow him anywhere, do anything he said. He could lead a migration of his own. With nearly four hundred fighting men, they could go where they pleased and take what they wanted. This was power-suddenly he understood-real power, not the kind that one buys with gold. And he realized something else-that he ruled in Orak now. The soldiers and the villagers had given him the power.
Another voice had risen up, trying to be heard over the din. Corio pushed away from his guard and the master builder raised his arms high, asking to speak. Esk kar bellowed over the shouting, demanding silence.
It took time before it was quiet enough for Corio’s words to be heard.
“Soldiers! Villagers! Listen, I beg you! Esk kar must not go. You must not go! You need not go! The customs of Orak condemn Caldor, not the hand of Esk kar. His evil deed sentences him to death for attempting to kill a free woman. Is that not so, Nobles?”
Corio turned sharply toward the heads of the other Families still clustered together, dread visible on their faces. “Is that not so?” Corio shouted the question at the top of his lungs, his anger and fear putting force into his words. “Answer me!”
Rebba stepped forward, his eyes darting nervously around the courtyard: “Death to Caldor!” The phrase was repeated by Decca, then Nestor “Death to Caldor.”
Only Nicar remained, staring down at his son, until Corio’s hand gripped Nicar’s shoulder and shook him hard, forcing him to lift his eyes.
He stared dully at Corio, as if he didn’t even recognize him.
“Death to Caldor.” Nicar’s words could barely be heard.
The courtyard erupted. Swords flashed in the torchlight and everyone screamed the words, “Death to Caldor!” over and over.
Again Corio held up his hands for silence. “All have agreed. Take him to the market and stone him to death. Take all of them. Walk them through the streets and proclaim their guilt to everyone. Let Lady Trella be avenged. Let the women stone them.”
A deafening roar burst from the crowd.
“Wait. Let me speak.” Esk kar’s words stopped the soldiers before they rushed off. “Do you want me to stay and fight the barbarians?”
Another roar went up, repeated from the street, “Stay!.. Stay
… Stay!”
They repeated the words without ceasing.
The soldiers went wild now. Their bloodlust had spread to the crowd in the street. Nothing would stop them.
Esk kar turned and jerked Caldor to his feet. He had to shout to make himself heard, his face close to the boy’s blanching face. “You’ll die slowly, Caldor, as you deserve, and when you’re dead, I’ll place your head at Trella’s feet, right here in this garden. You should have listened to your father.”
Two Hawk Clan soldiers pulled Caldor out of Esk kar’s hands. Other soldiers cut Natram — zar down from the tree and dragged a screaming Loki toward the gate.
“Gatus! Make sure it’s done right. Then bring me his head. I promised it to Trella.”
“No! Mercy! Father, help me!”
Gatus shoved Caldor into the hands of his men, the action unleashing another roar to the heavens. Half pushed, half dragged, they led Caldor through the courtyard. Many took the opportunity to strike at his head or shoulders. Another roar went up as they reached the street. The crowd screamed for his death.
In moments the courtyard had emptied itself. Esk kar heard the crowd’s progress as it began the journey down the streets of Orak. The victims would be shown to all. Looking around, Esk kar found himself alone. No one had stayed behind. All wanted to see the men die.
Esk kar trod back into the house and found that empty, too. Even the servants had joined the mob, screaming for blood and wanting to see the execution. He thought about going up to see how Trella was doing but decided to wait awhile. Emotionally drained, he went into the kitchen and sank tiredly back onto the stool. He felt weak. The wine and cheese remained on the table, untouched.
Draining the wine, Esk kar refilled the cup. He forced himself to take a bite of the goat cheese, which he could hardly taste and barely swallow.
He managed as best he could. Caldor would die, though not as slowly or painfully as Esk kar wanted. There might be a chance to make peace with Nicar.
Esk kar had learned a hard lesson, one he would never forget. From now on, anyone who plotted against him would die quickly. He’d never give any man such an opportunity again. Like a fool, he’d thought the danger to himself gone when he returned to Orak, with the barbarians only weeks away. Instead, Caldor had struck at
