“It’s only a scratch, Captain. But we held them off here easily enough.
Most of the attack was at your end.”
“You both did well, Bantor… Sisuthros. How many did you kill? How many did you lose?”
The two men exchanged glances before Bantor said sheepishly,
“Uhm… I don’t know, Captain. We haven’t counted them yet.”
Esk kar’s orders had been plain enough. Immediately after the attack, send the ditch men out to retrieve weapons and count the enemy dead.
“Get to it, then,” he said quietly, managing to get more emphasis in his tone than his words. “Use the shaduf to get the dead horses inside. We can use the fresh meat.”
The shaduf was a long pole mounted to a beam buried in the earth, used to lift heavy objects or water from the river. One end of the pole was weighted with stones, so that the laborers could add their weight to the stones and use the pole as a lever to raise heavy objects. Builders used the shaduf when building houses, as did traders at the wharf to lift heavy cargoes onto or off the ships.
He turned to Gatus. “Let’s climb the tower and see what’s happening.”
The tower had become the tallest structure in Orak. From its top Eskkar could clearly see the Alur Meriki leaders about three — quarters of a mile away, talking things over. They’d dismounted, as they argued their cases. “I’ll bet some of them are for trying again.”
“They’d better change their tactics, then,” Gatus answered.
“Let’s hope they don’t.” Esk kar shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked out over the plain. The Alur Meriki had attacked Orak as though the wall wasn’t there, using their usual tactics of launching a hailstorm of arrows followed up by lance and sword. They must have expected the villagers to break and run. But the wall deflected their arrows, and the defenders had stood the first test of fire. Meanwhile the barbarians had no cover at all.
“They have no more ladders,” his second in command offered. “They’d be fools to try without more ladders.”
Esk kar leaned out over the tower wall, where men had already begun the gathering. “You men down there! First pick up all the ladders and climbing poles, and throw them up over the wall. Pass the word!” He turned to Gatus. “You’re right. They never had enough ladders and now they’ll have to make more, many more. So we’re probably through for the day, maybe tomorrow as well.”
“There isn’t much wood in the countryside, either,” Gatus noted.
“They’ll have to ride quite a few miles to gather new supplies.”
Every stick of wood the barbarians could use had been taken down.
No houses, no carts, no corrals, nothing. Even the barbarians’ horses would need to travel for fodder. The Alur Meriki knew how to live off the land, but the countryside around Orak was going to give them very little.
“Well, Gatus, when they come again, they’ll have plenty of ladders, ropes, ramps, and anything else they can think of.”
Gatus scratched his chin, rasping his beard in the process. “They’ll not try to match arrows with us from horseback, either.”
“No, they won’t try that again,” Esk kar agreed. “They’ll look for an easy way and they’ll wait a few days, expecting the war party to arrive from across the river. If I were them, I would try to burn the gate next time-really go at it with fire and axes.”
“Or maybe they’ll try at night.”
It was the old soldier’s primary worry, though Esk kar didn’t think it very likely. Night fighting didn’t stand high on the list of warrior skills.
You couldn’t use your bow very well, the horses would have to be left behind, and even more important, no one could see your bravery, which meant quite a bit to their way of thinking.
“That’s why you’re in charge at night,” Esk kar said cheerfully, “because I know you’ll keep the men alert and watchful. But I think they’ll try the gate first. They know how to use fire, so I expect we’ll see plenty of fire arrows next time they come.”
Shouts made them look north, where a small party of Alur Meriki had ridden back, angered by the sight of village men scampering around their dead. But a few flights of arrows from the nearest defenders drove them off, leaving another body lying on the blackened grass.
Esk kar and Gatus left the tower and descended to the ground, where they found Bantor coming to meet them.
“Captain, there are sixty — nine bodies that we can see, plus at least that many horses. We had eight killed and seventeen wounded, but only two badly hurt.”
The barbarians probably had another fifty or sixty wounded men, a third of whom could be expected to die, as well as many injured horses.
So it had been a good exchange, eight for more than seventy. As for the wounded soldiers, if you took an arrow in the face or neck, you were either dead or dying. Wounds to the arms would be much less dangerous and the leather vests and caps worn by the men might stop an arrow, except one striking head — on or at close range. But now wasn’t the time for the men to be patting themselves on the back.
“Only seventy barbarians! Gatus! Did you see how many arrows missed in the first few flights? Hardly any warriors were brought down at all. Tell the men that they’d better start aiming better, or I’ll toss them over the wall.”
Bantor and Gatus looked at each other but said nothing.
“We just killed off their weakest and most foolish warriors,” Esk kar explained, raising his voice so that as many as possible could hear his words. “The next lot will be tougher and stronger and will know what to expect. So tell the men to stop bragging and get ready. And Gatus, as soon as the ditch men are back inside the walls, tell Corio to start pump-ing. Make sure the wells and water wheels are fully manned until the ditch is turned into mud.”
Corio estimated that it would take at least two days to soften the earth properly in the entire ditch, longer for the area in front of the gate where the trench was twice its normal width.
“I want that ditch turned into a swamp by tomorrow.” That would give the men something to do besides cheer and pound their own chests, Eskkar decided. He walked off, well satisfied with the day’s results in spite of his harsh words to his men.
Two hours later Esk kar met with his commanders at the courtyard table. The late afternoon shadows had lengthened, providing a little relief to the partly shaded table.
“The wells are being worked to bring water up for the ditch, as are the water wheels,” Gatus reported when they were all seated. “We’ve brought in thirteen dead horses and they’re roasting on fires made from barbarian ladders.” He laughed at the irony.
“Let’s hope we have more wood and meat after the next attack,” Eskkar said with a smile. “We’ll have plenty of fire next time. They’ll bring branches and grasses soaked in oil. They’ll charge the walls at the same time and every section will be under attack. Many of them will be dismounted to provide cover for those who rush the walls and gate. And this time they’ll send all of their warriors, not just a part of them.”
He turned to Corio. “Now is your time, Master Builder. They’ll heap firewood at the gate, try to burn it, or pull it down, while they try to shoot our men off the walls and towers.”
Corio shifted uneasily on the bench. “The gate will stand, Captain, and it will not burn easily. If the men stand at the walls, the gate will hold.”
Eyes turned toward Sisuthros, then to Bantor. The two men had worked closely in the last two months, building and guarding the walls and gate, training their men. “Captain, we’ll hold the gate,” Bantor said. “Many will die, but we can hold it.”
Esk kar considered that for a moment. “We’ll add half of the Hawk Clan to the towers and the gate, except for a few to scatter along the rest of the wall. Keep the experienced men in reserve for reinforcements.” He turned toward Nicar. “We’ll need the best villagers as well. And we’ll need water, stones, weapons, arrows, and the men to help repel any who scale the wall.”
“This is what we’ve trained for, Captain,” Nicar answered calmly. “We understand the risks.”
Looking around the table, there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
Months of preparation resolved many decisions. “Now, what else do we need to talk about?”
