Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 424 of 619

The six new fighters slept in the bunkhouse on straw. Nineteen men now filled the beds, and the frames were rough. Ajax walked the second floor at dawn and pressed a hand to one mattress. Straw crackled under his palm. A tired man fights worse than a rested one. He wanted his fighters strong when raiders came for the cart. He called Grayson and Aldric to the bunkhouse to settle the sleeping order. Aldric climbed the stairs slow, his green tunic catching the light, grey creeping through his hair. He carried the ledger under one arm. He looked at the straw beds and the crowd of frames pushed close. "Nineteen swords and one floor," he said. "Fighters and workers stacked together. A worker hears a fighter talk in his sleep, and the talk reaches the port." Grayson stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, silver chain on his bare chest. He had ridden beside Ajax since the first dawn, never a man who knelt. "Split them," he said. "Fighters below. Workers above." Ajax looked down the row of beds. The plan was clean. Fighters on the first floor, close to the arms shed and the gate. Workers moved up top, away from the doors, where their talk did no harm. "Do it," he said. "And no more straw." Aldric opened the ledger and marked it. "Straw draws damp and mice. A fighter who wakes stiff swings slow." He tapped the page. "Wool mattresses. Tarron has fleece to spare from the flock." Ajax nodded. "Wool for every fighter. Frames raised off the floor." He turned to Grayson. "Move the six new men down here today. Send the workers up." Grayson set the men to it by midmorning. Ajax watched the fighters haul their frames to the first floor. Bran and two hands built raised beds from cut cedar. Tarron carried up bundled fleece and stuffed the ticks tight. By dusk the first floor held nineteen fighters on wool, close to their steel. The workers took the upper floor, sworn to silence, their beds far from the gate. Aldric closed the ledger and stood beside Ajax at the door. "Fighters rest better than they did. But you've packed nineteen armed men under one roof." He said it plainly. "That's a strong house or a powder keg, depending on the man who holds it." Ajax gripped his father's chain. "They swore to me. By voice and by touch." He looked at the beds, the fighters settling in, the arms shed a few steps beyond the wall. Rested men, warm and close to their swords, ready to guard the cart runs to the Crossing and to defend Black Oak. His house held strong. "They rest tonight," Ajax said. "Tomorrow Grayson drills them. A house full of idle swords needs work, or the work finds us." Grayson met his eye. "I'll drill them at first light." “Do it every day.” Ajax said.