by Barry Sadler
Casca's hand choked off any cry from his victim's mouth as he pulled the man in close to him He slid the dagger, with the flat side of the blade up, deep into the man's body and just under the lowest rib on the right side, then turned it into the left to sever the spinal cord. There was nothing but one long exhalation to mark that the looter's spirit had fled this vale of tears.
Picking up the dead man's club, he moved up the stairs after his victim's partner who had halted. He heard a low angry hiss to hurry up and grunted an unintelligible response. The thief on the top of the stairs thought he was his partner. Casca grinned to himself. He went up the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top, the looter was at a door. He motioned for Casca to come closer.
Casca thought, You're not going to like this. He moved up right behind the man, raised the knob ended club and came down, cracking the man's braincase. He caught the body before it hit the ground. He didn't want to wake up the girl. She had been through enough. He lowered the body and started to drag it off when he stopped. Setting the corpse down, he stood at her door for a time trying to make up his mind.
Not really aware of what he was doing, he opened the door and entered, closing it behind him. He could see her lying on her bed, a thin coverlet pulled down to her waist. A glow from the moon filtered in through a small window set high on the wall, illuminating her face. He moved closer, fearful that she would wake.
In the night glow there was an ethereal quality to her. He bent over her, careful not to let his shadow touch her face. He just wanted to look at her. Her hair was loose, lying in waves about her. One breast was exposed where it had slipped out from under her nightdress. Well-formed and ripe. He touched her hair with his rough fingers, feeling the texture. It was finer than the rarest of the silks of Chin.
He was tempted for a moment to put his hand on her breast to feel the warmth of her, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to have her awake and find him standing over her. No, it was best if she never knew. He pulled her coverlet up gently and slipped back out of her room, stopping only for one last look. He shook his head thinking, It would do no good even if I could make her love me. What purpose would it serve? The memories of past loves and the pain of them were too great. This time I'm going to leave before the hurting starts.
He picked up the body of the looter, threw it over his shoulder, took it out to the garden and tossed it over the wall, then went back for the other and did the same with him. Once he had them on the other side of the wall, he dragged them by their heels, one in each hand, two full blocks away and left them one on top of the other to be picked up with the rest of the city's trash.
He returned to his room at the barracks, but his eyes refused to close all that night. It wasn't until dawn that he finally rested for a few hours. When he rose, he had made up his mind he was going to get the hell out of Orleans before his will weakened. He found his clothes had been scrubbed as per his orders; he cleaned himself, dug out his razor and scraped off the growing beard.
Once he was reasonably presentable and in full armor, he went to the headquarters of Commitus. Not waiting to be announced by the praetors's orderly, he just went on by him into Commitus's inner sanctum. Commitus was reading dispatches from Rome and the adjoining provinces when his uninvited and unwelcome guest entered
He was irritated at the intrusion, and his voice made his feelings about Casca quite clear. "I don't believe it is asking too much for you to have yourself announced in a civilized manner."
Casca merely put one of his buttocks on Commitus's desk and leaned over. "Knock off that crap. I'm not in any mood for it. All I want from you is to know where Aetius has gone and if there have been any reports of Hun activity in the region."
Commitus gave him a sour look, replying, "As to your questions, Aetius has been recalled to Italy for a conference with the Emperor. However, before he left he gave me orders to tell you if you ever showed up again to come to him by the fastest possible means. He will be at the court in Ravenna. As to the second part of your question, no! There has not been any sign of Huns in the area and if there were, I assure you that I am quite capable of handling the situation without any assistance from you."
Casca smiled at Commitus. "That's really good to hear. I mean, how you can handle things; you were doing such a good job before I came. I will never forget how eager you were to leave your walls and do battle with the Huns face to face. Yes, sir! You're a real killer. Now give me a requisition for a horse of my choosing and some money, about a thousand denarii will do for my expenses."
Commitus nearly swallowed his tongue. "A thousand denarii?"
Casca stopped him before he could make any further comment. "That's right, and I don't think you will have any problem finding it, or would you prefer for me to tell Aetius about the several wagons with your personal guards driving them the ones that veered off the main street when we brought back the spoils from the Huns' wagon train?"
It did his heart good to stick it to a prig like Commitus every now and then. His requests for horse and money were filed in record time. He had the thought that in order to get him out of the city, Commitus would have paid three times that amount gladly. But it was not good to be too greedy.
He turned his gelding to the southeast and let the horse pick its own speed. Whatever was out there waiting for him would still be there when he arrived.
The journey on the road to Ravenna was uneventful. He passed several lines of troops, both federati and Roman, some going north but most heading south to Italy. The defense of Gaul had been turned over for the most part to the Burgundians and Salian Franks.
He reached Ravenna by the end of September. Casca didn't have very fond memories of Ravenna and the last time he had been there. At least the fanatic religious fervor of the Christian zealots seemed to have waned a bit.
He only stayed long enough to find out that Aetius had moved his headquarters out of the city and was staying to the north, close to the Julian Alps. Casca figured the reason for that was if Attila came again, then it would probably be from the north as the experience of fighting in Gaul had probably left a bad taste in his memory. Few leaders ever liked to fight again where they had lost a battle.
At Altinum he wasted a few days relaxing. He had started to feel like his old self and decided it was time to get his head on straight. The best cure for the doldrums he knew of was a healthy period of strenuous, non-thinking exercise spent in the fleshpots. He left about half the money he had taken from Commitus there with the girls.
On the way out of Altinum, he considered his curse and decided it wasn't all bad. There were a few fringe benefits to it. One was that diseases kept their distance from him, even the pox. He might get ill for a while but it never lasted.
At a small fortress at the north end of the Po Valley, he caught up with Aetius who was looking fit, tanned and ready for action, if a little tired. He still had problems in Rome getting the Senate to agree to do anything other than half measures. He was concerned that if they didn't send him more men, the Huns would simply flank his position and drive to the rear as they had done often enough in the past. Intelligence reports that had come in indicated they had been right in thinking that Attila would come again.
Attila had moved remarkably fast in gathering another force. Aetius knew that in the spring the tribes would begin to send their fighting men to the standards of the Hun. Attila would come and this time the fight would be handled differently, of that Aetius was sure. He still felt he could beat him, but he had to do it on his own terms and in the place of his choosing. That would be impossible if all he could do was react to actions initiated by Attila. He had to gain the initiative, from the beginning or they were in big trouble.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ch'ing Li was not pleased with Attila, but there was little he could do. He was only permitted to give advice when asked for it and, of late, anytime he didn't agree with what Attila already had in mind, he was quickly shut up.
Things were no
t going as he had planned since they had left Gaul. True, they had rebuilt their armies from the nearly endless supply of manpower the steppes and wild lands had to offer. But Attila had insisted on starting raids against Illyricum and the provinces held by Emperor Marcian. That would mean trouble in the long run for he knew Attila planned on invading Italy in the summer.
Ch'ing was becoming disgusted with the Huns; they would not listen. Like petulant children, they had to do everything their own way. The losses they had suffered in Gaul had killed off many of their best warriors. The recent raids had regained much of the confidence of Attila's men by pillaging several minor provinces. Ch'ing had advised against them at that time for they could force the Eastern and Western Roman Empires to join forces. But Attila would have his way and Ch'ing knew he was determined to try for Rome.
As Ch'ing's difficulties with Attila increased, he began to doubt whether he would be able to use the Huns as a tool of revenge. The savages were just too stupid. If they refused to listen to him and take his council then he knew that disaster would most certainly not be far away. Since the battle at Mauriacus, Attila had taken to drink; his confidence was shaken. Ch'ing had to constantly reinforce his ego with words of praise. Too often he had found the master of the world lying in pools of his own vomit surrounded by his drunken chieftains. Animals!
Ch'ing was disappointed, but he had invested too much precious time to give up completely on the Huns. He would stay with them for a time longer. Perhaps, if things went well in Italy, he would be able to direct their energies toward his ultimate goal: the conquest of Chin where he would force the Celestial Prince to crawl on his belly before him. It would please him greatly to see the pride of heaven lick his boots. Then all the rest of the nobles who had plotted against him would be made to pay. The thought of those soft decadent fools who had conspired to drive him from the court to this place sickened him no less than these ignorant Huns and their filthy habits and diet.
It was almost more than he could bear.
He would spend hours trying to decide which would cause them the most pain. For some it would naturally be of the physical nature, such as being torn apart between horses or being delicately dismembered, one tiny slice at a time with red hot razors; for others, he would destroy their pride and their minds by forcing their wives and daughters to lie with savages while their husbands and fathers watched.
Ch'ing Li sighed deeply, returning from his pleasant reverie to his current difficulties. Why would Attila not heed his words? With his council, they could have the world. Couldn't the fool see it was too soon to take the field in a major campaign? And the political atmosphere was not to his liking. He was still bitter when Attila summoned him to his tent where he was brooding.
"Sit down, scholar." The term of respect made one of Ch'ing Li's plucked eyebrows go up. That meant Attila needed something.
"Thank you, my Lord. How may this unworthy one be of service to you? It has been several weeks since last you called me to your council."
The self-deprecating tones of Ch'ing Li didn't fool Attila. He knew the little man was pissed off because he wanted to take the field against Rome. Ch'ing didn't understand that he had to beat Aetius to restore not only the confidence of his warleaders but his own.
He still needed the brain of Ch'ing Li and the writings on the scroll he carried with him. He could have taken the scroll from him, but he knew he could never find one to interpret it as Ch'ing Li did.
Attila motioned for Ch'ing Li to take a seat. He leaned forward intently. "You know my plans for the invasion. What do you think the odds are for success?"
Ch'ing decided to try once more. "If you go against Rome now, I do not think you will win." He spoke rapidly before Attila could interrupt him, "You will have some degree of success, but the secret will be how far to go and to know when to quit."
Attila didn't like the answer and while he was determined to do things his way, he still respected the intelligence of the man sitting before him. "What do you mean?"
Ch'ing Li phrased his words very carefully. "Marcian will go against you. This time perhaps he will even attack you from the rear while you're tied up in Italy. There are still tribes that do not love you well and would rally to the Romans if they thought you had any chance of being defeated. That would mean great difficulties for you.
"Also, as I have said before, it is not the time. You should wait, but I know you have made up your mind not to." Ch'ing Li paused to catch his breath. "Just remember, once we are committed, we must be very careful not to become bogged down or we will suffer a worse fate in Italy than we did in Gaul."
Attila prodded him. "What do you mean by accepting a degree of success and knowing when to stop?"
"Lord, there will only be one way to know that condition and that is when we face it. Sun T'zu makes it clear that there are some battles to be fought and some to be avoided, some roads to take and others to avoid. We will most surely come to those two conditions and we must recognize them or suffer disaster."
Attila was concerned about the possibility of Marcian sending forces against his rear. That meant he had to leave large formations behind him to protect his lines of communication. He would give orders for his armies on the eastern borders of Constantinople to make all the signs of a major war but only to hit and run. Just enough to make Marcian think twice before committing large numbers of troops to the battle in the West.
It would tie him down securing his own frontiers if he thought there might be a simultaneous invasion of his lands. By the time Marcian found that he was not facing the Hun main force, the battle for Rome would have come to a successful conclusion.
Ch'ing just wouldn't understand. He had to invade or those of his tribes that were disillusioned by the defeat in Gaul would claim he was not strong enough to keep his power. There were some who would sit in his saddle. The only thing that his warriors respected was strength. If he showed any weakness or hesitation to act, he would be eliminated. Therefore, he had already laid the groundwork for the destruction of Rome, and after that, Constantinople would fall to him.
The call to gather the horde had been sent to the furthermost reaches of his domain. The tribes came: the Gepidae and Alans, the Goths and Sabiri, the Unugar and Utigur, the Kurtigur, Abasgians, Rugians, Sclaveni, Alpicur, Acatziri, Hunuguri and the Geticae. These and a hundred others sent their warriors to obey their master's will. The horde of Attila was ready.
The order was given. He bypassed the strongholds in the Julians and struck deep into Italy. Nothing opposed him. Countless villages were put to the sword, their people either killed or enslaved. Fire and the sword spread the message of the Hun's arrival. By comparison, the Goths of Alaric had only been weekend tourists. Everything in front of the Huns was destroyed. What they didn't take was burned. Captives by the thousands were taken from the valley of Isonzo, where they were used as beasts of burden to help carry the plunder of their new overlords.
Aetius could offer no real resistance in the Julians; all his force could do was conduct a fighting withdrawal and holding action. That could not stop the Huns, but it did slow them up. Aetius needed time, time for those fools in the Senate to finally give him the manpower he had asked for months ago.
Attila had things the way he liked them. His confidence returned. This was war the way the Huns loved it. There was a prize he wanted before going after Rome itself and that was Aquileia. It was too rich and too strong to leave in his rear. It had to be taken.
Ch'ing nearly gave up in disgust when they looked down the walls of Aquileia. True, there was tremendous wealth inside those walls. Aquileia was nearly as rich a prize as Rome itself, but Ch'ing knew that, like Orleans, if they didn't breech the walls in a matter of days, the price for the city could prove too high.
He nearly pulled the hair out of his head in frustration. What was this fascination that Attila had with walls? The strength of the Huns rested in mobility and long range strikes, not in sitting before some damned wall watching you
r horses eat up the fields.
Attila knew what Ch'ing thought; he had been told often enough. But he needed to take a major walled city as part of his plan to regain the total confidence of his war leaders. The other side of the coin was that if he took Aquileia, the Romans would know he could do the same to their holy city, too. These things made it vital in his mind to do whatever was necessary to breach the walls.
Attila stayed with the forces attacking Aquileia, which consisted of seventy five percent of his total manpower. The rest of his warriors spent most of their time scouring the countryside for food and sending it back to their brothers outside the walls.
For nearly three weeks the defenders held the city. The Huns were wearing out. Even with siege machines, they had not been able to make a hole through which they could assault.
Attila was at the end of his patience. If the walls didn't fall soon, he would have to leave Italy and withdraw. He could not keep his men tied up in this one spot much longer. He knew that every day they wasted here gave the Romans under Aetius time to plot against him.
Attila was riding around the perimeter of Aquileia with Ch'ing Li at his side. Ch'ing Li knew that his master was in trouble and it was difficult for him to ask for advice at this point. Ch'ing Li might have been content to leave things as they were, but he too was committed now and had to do his best to see if the campaign couldn't be brought to at least a partially successful conclusion.
Those behind the walls couldn't be in much, if any, better shape than the Huns. The city would have to fall soon. Ch'ing Li hated the idea of the siege to begin with, but now they had gone too far to back out of it. Attila, like any savage, tended to sulk and do things on impulse, especially when things didn't go the way he planned them. He had thought they would be inside the walls in less than a week.