“More than two thousand horses,” he corrected. “And the warriors, they can eat the cattle and, if need be, the horses as well. A warrior can go for many days without food.”
“If they eat too many animals,” Trella said, “they’ll have none left to breed. Any they expected to find here are across the river, out of reach, and they have no easy way to cross over. They’ve already stripped the land behind them. They must attack the village quickly, overcome it, and move on. Even the land in front of them is burned to the earth.”
That matched Esk kar’s assessment of the situation. The farther away the food source, whether grain or animal, the more difficult to bring it back to camp. Riders would use up as much food as they could carry back in a few days’ ride, so there was little benefit in trying to move supplies on horseback. The cumbersome wagons traveled slowly and broke down often. A team of oxen could generally cover two miles an hour, and no amount of beating would make them move faster. Even herd animals couldn’t be driven too hard, lest they die. So the main camp remained on the move, and always moving in the direction of fresh food and grazing.
“The Alur Meriki lost about sixty men in the first battle with the Ur Nammu, then another seventy across the river, and another seventy here, plus their wounded,” he mused out loud. “That is…”
“About two hundred men,” Trella finished the sum. “They seem to be waiting for the band across the river.”
The day after the battle, the Alur Meriki built a signal fire on the highest ground next to the river, and green wood smoke rose into the air each day since. By now they’d be wondering what delayed their raiders, but Eskkar doubted they’d think the entire party wiped out, at least not yet. In a few more days, when no word came, they’d suspect the truth. That would make them wonder how strong a force opposed them across the river, and whether they dared risk another sizable force in a second crossing.
“When do you think they will come?”
Everyone asked the same question. “Tomorrow, I think,” Esk kar said.
“They are almost ready.”
“Can you hold them off?”
Esk kar gazed into her serious brown eyes. “I don’t know, Trella,” he answered, his voice low so nobody else could overhear his words. “I just don’t know. I do know they’ll pay a heavy price, more than they ever imagined. We’ll have to see.” He kissed the top of her head. “Don’t be afraid for either of us.”
She straightened up, in control of her emotions and her expression. “Make sure you come home early tonight. We’ll have much to talk about.”
But when they found themselves alone in bed that night, there wasn’t much to say, though he held her close and felt a tear on her cheek.
“Enough of my tears.” She sat up in the bed, her voice firm once more.
“You will hold the village, Esk kar. I believe in you and I will not be afraid of the future. You don’t need to worry about me. Just take no unnecessary risks.”
He couldn’t see her in the darkness, but he ran his fi ngers up her arm, then touched the softness of her breast. “I’ll take care, Trella.” Esk kar ignored the whisper in his mind that suggested that tomorrow might be the day of his death. Holding each other, they drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
The next morning Esk kar stood on the wall and watched the sun rise over the hills to the east, the barbarian camp already alive with activity.
One look confirmed his fears. The attack would be today, probably between midmorning and noon.
His men looked ready and every face showed determination. They’d be fighting for their families as well as their lives. Some sought revenge for blood spilled. Whatever the reason, each would put strength in a man’s arm.
“By noon today,” Gatus commented, lifting his leather cap and wiping the sweat from his brow.
“Yes, or sooner,” Esk kar answered, shading his eyes as he tried to estimate what forces would be placed where. “But we have a surprise for them, I think.”
After the first attack, the water wheels had fed water into wooden troughs that led through the wall. The troughs could be pushed out to varying lengths into the ditch. Two such devices had been built on each side of the main gate. In addition villagers lifted water from Orak’s wells and fed a constant stream into the ditch, backbreaking labor that exhausted the laborers after just a few hours.
Even now, leaning over the edge, Esk kar could see water trickling out into the ditch and turning the earth into mud three or four inches deep.
He’d tested it himself last night, lowered from a rope to the base of the wall, where he’d tried to walk around. Instead he had slipped and fallen flat on his face, to the muffled laughter of those above. After more sinking and stumbling, they pulled him back up, his feet encased in mud.
Now he sat on a tall stool halfway between the gate and the northeast tower that had borne the brunt of the last attack. Once again Esk kar expected this site to receive the main thrust. He felt self — conscious about sitting and resting while everyone else stood. But Gatus, who used one himself, urged him to take his rest whenever possible.
Out on the plain, the barbarians began their maneuvers. The war leaders shouted and waved their bows as they moved huge numbers of men and horses into position.
Ordinarily the Alur Meriki found it a simple task to position a warrior at a certain place. But today the war chiefs had much more to do. They had to assign men to attack certain parts of the village, this group of fifty to the rear gate, that group to follow them to the north wall, and so on. And this time each group had to carry ladders, ropes, and fire arrows, items not usually handled by warriors. Many would be complaining or resisting the assignment. Esk kar smiled when he saw ladders passed from one warrior to another, accompanied by much shouting and shoving.
“Warriors want to fight, not carry ladders,” he said to Gatus. “The strongest hand the ladders to the weakest. But there are a great many men.
And today they have plenty of ladders.”
Gatus stepped away to ask one of the clerks assigned to counting the enemy whether he had finished his task, grunted, then returned to Esk kar’s side. “It looks like about fourteen hundred men out there. At this rate, it will be noon before they’re ready,” Gatus said. “Look, they’re bringing a battering ram.”
Esk kar squinted into the sun and saw that a huge tree trunk rested atop a cart, pushed along by a group of slaves, a task that wouldn’t please those assigned to it. About twenty horsemen escorted them to make sure they kept to their work. The slaves carrying firepots wouldn’t be any happier.
The pots needed to be replenished with fresh fuel, which apparently no one had remembered to bring. Resolving these issues took time and more hours passed before all the men and their burdens reached their assigned places. Other carts lumbered up behind the warriors, and the horsemen moved forward a hundred paces to allow the carts to come closer.
At the first stirrings of the horsemen a ripple of sound had run up and down the wall. The soldiers thought the attack had begun. When the horsemen halted, waiting for the carts to close up, Esk kar and Gatus turned to each other with smiles on their faces. The leading edge of the riders stood just within long range of the bowmen. The leading warriors sat on their animals while they waited for the final arrangements, believing themselves out of range, when in truth they stood about thirty paces past the first mark.
Esk kar turned to Totomes, who’d taken his station behind the commanders. His face showed that he looked forward to sending arrows into the unsuspecting riders. “Master Bowman, I think it’s time to show these invaders what they’re in for.”
A villager readied his drum and waited for the order. He’d relay Totomes’s commands. Totomes leaned back and waved his bow to signal the other lead archers. He took but a few moments to assure himself that everyone stood ready, and then he gave the order. Three quick beats sounded, repeated a few seconds later as another drummer relayed the signal down the length of the wall.
Two hundred and sixty archers in two ranks on the wall readied their weapons, drawing their bows to the fullest and aiming up into the sky. Totomes gave the command, and a single drumbeat echoed along the wall.
A storm of arrows burst upward into the sky, followed by another and another. Leaders of ten called the cadence out, exactly as they had during the months of training. Esk kar’s eyes stayed fixed on the distant horsemen even as he heard the rasp of wood on wood, followed by the grunts of the men as they let the shafts fly.
The first flight landed, many falling short, but enough striking the leading ranks as they sat there, many
