Warhorn

by J Glenn Bauer

  “Yes, I have done this before, usually for men who have been injured in horse falls or sometimes in battle. The how is usually enough to make most men walk away.” Rual paused as if waiting for Caros to object. When Caros simply stared at him he went on. “I drill a hole through the bone to where the blood has pooled. This allows it to escape.”

  Caros paled at the images that leapt to mind. Surely none could live with a hole drilled into their head! The idea was insanity. He looked at the instruments again and his eyes fixed on the drill piece. He pointed at it. “With that?” Rual nodded. Caros looked at Aksel who was studying him silently. He trusted the Masulian and guessed if Aksel had faith in the healer then he could probably do what he promised. He looked at the calmly confident warrior and nodded slowly. “I trust you. If you think this is what needs to be done then I will place my trust in you.” Caros had always enjoyed his health. This constant throbbing terror in his head was robbing him of his health and if he ever hoped to regain some measure of happiness in life, healing the injury was a necessity. He nodded more resolutely. “Yes. I have never heard of such a thing, but I respect your learning.” He paused and looked at the instruments again. “Plus, those devices look like they have a life of their own. Be a shame not to use them.”

  Rual smiled and glanced at Aksel who was nodding. “I am glad you have agreed, Caros. You will see this is a good decision!”

  “When can you do this?”

  The healer shrugged. “Now.”

  Caros’ heart thumped in his chest and his throat tightened, but there was no backing out of his decision. Raul went to work right away preparing a broth over his campfire. “You will need to drink this first. It will dull the pain and make you sleep. You will not feel the operation at all until you awake. By then I will have finished and the wound will be dressed.”

  The moments passed in a blur as Caros watched the man prepare the broth and the instruments. Another healer arrived to assist. Rual let the broth cool before allowing Caros to drink it down. It was bitter and salty, but not unpleasant. In a short while Caros noticed the effect as his hearing grew suddenly acute then faded. While he was dealing with this strange phenomenon, he did not notice his sight begin to darken. He found his eyes had drifted closed and he blinked them open. He was surprised to find himself lying on his back and as he stared about, he smiled at the distorted figures about him, imbued with glowing colours he had never imagined were there. These were his last thoughts before the medicine dragged him under.

  When he came to he was lying on a cot and his head was resting on a fleece. Above him, billowing in a breeze was a tent top. His eyesight swam and he felt himself drifting back to sleep. He woke again in the depth of the night with firelight playing softly on the fabric above him. His mouth was woolly and dry. He smacked his lips and for a moment wondered where he had passed out. Then the memory of that afternoon came home and his eyes widened. He had lived! On cue he felt his head begin to burn. He instinctively lifted a hand to the injury.

  The movement caught Rual’s attention and the man was beside Caros in an instant. “You are awake now my friend! No, you must not disturb the wound. It needs to sleep to heal. How are you feeling?”

  “Thirsty.”

  “Of course. Do not move your head. I will place this reed in your mouth. Draw on it and you can drink without lifting your head.”

  He placed a thin reed between Caros’ lips. The other end was submerged in a cup of fresh water. Caros sucked on the reed, unfamiliar with the method of drinking, but soon felt the trickling water reaching his parched mouth. It seemed he had barely drunk anything before Rual gently pulled the reed from his mouth.

  “Not too much. You can have more later, but too much now may cause you to throw up.” Caros blinked in understanding.

  He woke up again in the middle of the following morning. Rual was again instantly at his side. “You have slept well! How do you feel?”

  Caros gave a brief smile. “Fine. May I have water?”

  There was no need for him to drink through a reed. “As long as you move very slowly, you may sit up to drink.”

  Caros edged himself into a sitting position on the cot. As he drank, he felt the same burning heat on his head. It was infinitely preferable to the roaring, throbbing pain that he usually experienced when he moved his head. He finished the cup of water greedily.

  “Thank you. I feel warmth on my head, but the pain has gone.” He smiled optimistically at Rual who was grinning back.

  “I thought it might have. It was as I explained; blood had accumulated below the skull and as soon as I pierced the bone it was released. It has drained away while you slept. How about your eye? See any better?”

  Caros blinked in surprise. His sight was clearer and looking out the tent door, he found that the bright daylight did not hurt as it had. “Yes! You have done a fine job, Rual! Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  WITH THE DRAINING OF the clot from his head the physical pain that had haunted Caros became largely a thing of the past. He still felt a raw longing for his family and Ilimic, but these were eased by the presence of the boisterous Masulians. As soon as he was able to, Caros was up and about and he discovered that the Masulians had erected a tent city on the field. He hardly spent any time in the farmstead, only retiring there at night to sleep. The daylight hours saw him spend the time in the company of the Masulian chief and his men. Caros learned much about the Masulian’s land across the Inland Sea in North Africa. Aksel’s father was a warrior chief from the region of Zama and their chieftain was Chief Gala. This Masulian chieftain had pledged his warriors to Carthage in return for huge amounts of gold and silver as well as trading rights. Warriors from across the eastern lands of the Masulians had flocked to fight for Carthage. Their hopes set on plunder, but also, warriors being warriors, for the adventure.

  When Caros could once again ride, he asked Aksel to accompany him to the village. He planned to advise the elders of the Masulian’s presence, concerned that the villagers would think the foreign horsemen had come to prey on them. Until that moment, the Masulians had not ventured off the fields and pastures Caros had assigned them. They had instead spent their time resting their mounts and themselves as well as making necessary repairs to their effects. Aksel brought two of his Captains with him, Jinkata and Hahdha, and together the four men left mid-morning for the village. As they rode Caros saw few people in the fields and those he saw quickly fled.

  On approaching the village Caros asked Aksel to hold up while he rode ahead. A pair of thin hounds growled and barked as he rode up to the gates that had been shut. A man’s face appeared at the top of the flimsy palisade surrounding the village. Caros waved and called a greeting. The man stared at him for a moment then looked beyond him to the Masulians who waited patiently some distance back.

  “You know me, I am Caros, son of Joaquim. These riders are my guests. We wish to visit with Hunar and Luan.” Without responding, the man disappeared from the wall. Caros sat his horse calmly and waited. The villagers were being cautious for which he could not blame them after the appalling losses they had experienced in the last raid.

  At last he heard a commotion and then more heads appeared above the wall. Caros squinted up at them. “Hunar, it’s just me and some guests I wish to introduce.” He gestured at the Masulians.

  “Caros! You should have come sooner! Half the villagers have fled to the castro and have been there for the past four days!”

  “What! Why?”

  “Brent came with his family to warn us that a troop of strangers were encamped on your land. We did not know who they were, only that there were many hundreds of armed riders.”

  Caros realised he should have come sooner. He grimaced up at Hunar in apology, “I am sorry. As I am here now though are you going to let us in?”

  Hunar shook his head in exasperation at Caros, but also relief that the horsemen were not a threat. He gestured to an unseen person inside the walls. Moments later the gate b
egan to heave open. Caros signalled to Aksel who rode up, flanked by his Captains. Aksel and his men had solemn expressions and were eyeing the town wall and heavy, but poorly made gate. Caros fancied he saw a hint of amusement in Aksel’s eyes.

  Once the gates were opened and the riders had entered; Hunar sent a messenger off to the nearby castro to let the villagers know that the riders were not to be feared. Caros briefly introduced Aksel, Jinkata and Hahdha to the elder. Hunar greeted each courteously, but with a slight air of disdain that embarrassed Caros. He would have preferred it if Luan had been present.

  Hunar invited the men to the village’s central hearth. This was the focal point of Bastetani villages and where the chiefs, elders and warriors discussed matters of importance. Once there, he gestured to two youths hovering nearby to water the mounts. They came forward eagerly but paused, suddenly baffled. Of the four horses, only one had a bridle and reins. The Masulian’s mounts had none.

  Aksel smiled at the youths. “Never mind, they will follow Caros’ mare.”

  The village men that had remained were gathering and a fire was built upon which a recently slaughtered goat was being spitted. Flagons of ale were brought forth and suddenly the nervous village men were transforming into the warriors. The Masulians accepted the ale, but drank modestly. Somebody thrust a flagon into Caros’ hands and he raised it to his lips to take a long swig. At the last moment he paused and then just took a token sip. He was not healed yet and he had had enough of ale for a while.

  Aksel was being questioned by men as they stepped forward and gave their names and deeds as was custom. He did his best to answer the multitude of questions thrown at him and Caros thought that he did well. He was the kind of man that other men instantly marked as a leader and trustworthy. The men of the village nodded approval at every answer Aksel provided, even to the simplest questions.

  While Aksel was engaged with the crowd, Hunar spoke quietly to Caros.

  “There is a matter you must answer for. This is not the time, but the people expect it. Are due it.”

  Caros winced inwardly while his face remained expressionless. He looked at Hunar, but said nothing. The elder paused blinking and then realised Caros was not going to be baited and a small frown creased his brow.

  “You know of the matter, Caros. Do not take me for a fool.”

  “I know of no matter. I have heard of an untruth and I am unconcerned by it.”

  “She was to be your brother’s...” Hunar suddenly stammered as he the saw the expression in Caros’ face alter. Hunar had watched Caros grow from an infant, but he had not been witness to the transformation of Caros, the youthful merchant, to Caros the Claw. The sudden killer stare rattled the old man and he swallowed nervously. “...as I said this is not the time to discuss it. I simply wanted to remind you that the matter is not resolved.”

  Caros stared a moment longer at the elder. He was aware that the men circling the hearth had sensed the tension.

  He shrugged and relaxed. “What news of Alugra?” He had grown to respect the old warrior in the few days he had known him.

  Hunar shook his head. “He is said to be dying, speared through the liver in battle with the Olcades.”

  Caros was equally distressed and alarmed. Other men heard and at last Aksel got some respite as their attention turned. The subject was obviously a heated one and men cursed the Olcades in a hundred ways. To Caros, this news was bleak. While Alugra was no longer young, the graybeard still had many years ahead. His loss would be a loss to the whole tribe. To compound this, the Olcades were a powerful tribe whose territory bordered Bastetani lands in the north. If the Olcades marched in force on the Bastetani there would be a lot of blood spilled. All the gains made by the Bastetani could be seriously diminished.

  Hunar had to talk up to make himself heard. “A lot has been happening throughout the tribes. It is almost impossible to travel safely anywhere as there are so many raiders about. The raid on us was just the beginning. Our people have been attacked from the west and north. The Barca is said to be moving many thousands of his warriors north. Overland and by galley.”

  Caros looked to Aksel. The Masulian chief was listening intently, but his expression gave away nothing. “I had thought the Olcades had been subjugated by the Barca last summer?”

  Hunar grunted and shrugged. “They have been, however some of their keener warriors have taken refuge with the Carpetani and stirred them up so that they and their neighbours the Oretani are now intent on war again.”

  “Who leads the Bastetani warriors now?” Caros had a good idea who did, but he asked anyway.

  “Alfren. You would have met him with Alugra’s warriors. He was Alugra’s leading man.”

  “Yes, a dangerous man. Not of the same cast as Alugra, but as good a leader as we are likely to have.” He remembered the dour Lusitanian and knew he would be more than capable of leading the Bastetani warriors.

  “We are expecting a column of his warriors here any day now.” Hunar glanced at Caros. “We sent word of these horsemen you host to him.”

  “Guess that was a good idea, but they will be a little disappointed to find no enemy.”

  Hunar smiled. “Well, it will be good to have the warriors in the area to clear out these infernal raiders.”

  “That is the reasons the Aksel and his warriors are here. They have been sent to end the raids and banditry. That is why they are quartered on my family’s land. Some were injured in clashes with these raiders.”

  Hunar’s eyes were distant as he contemplated the meaning of this. He sharpened his gaze as realisation dawned.

  “The Barca. They are under orders of Hannibal!” He looked at Aksel who stared back without expression. “No need to say a thing, I see the pattern. It is obvious you are taking his coin.”

  Two days later, while Caros accompanied Aksel and a party of the Masulians on a hunt in the hilly country above the upper valley, they spied a dust cloud in the southwest. The men halted and sat watching the dust moving west to east. Aksel and his leading man, Jinkata, conferred quickly.

  “Those are horsemen and they are heading to your village.” Aksel addressed Caros.

  Caros squinted at the haze and concluded the Masulians were right. “Could be Alfren’s warriors. They are expected.” A cold flush spread down his back and he hoped it was Alfren. In truth, they could just as easily be Olcades or Carpetani warriors.

  Aksel thought the same thing as he revealed in his next comment. “We can hunt another day. We should go and see who they are for it appears there are many hundreds of riders judging from the dust they kick up.”

  Caros nodded his agreement while Jinkata blew a horn to reassemble the hunters. In moments, the scouts appeared and before long the column was streaming down the hills into the valley. Aksel sent a pair of men to roust the Masulians who had remained at the farm. While the pair rode off westwards the main party flew down the valley towards the village.

  The village came into sight as the men urged their mounts through the fields north of it. Aksel cursed and pointed at a column of mounted warriors to their right. These had entered the valley passing the old castro and the paths of the two columns of riders were converging. They became aware of one another at the same time and in a heartbeat both columns had pulled up to face one another across a distance of just two stadia. The warriors with Caros and Aksel numbered less than twenty. Across the fields were at least five hundred horsemen. Caros at once ascertained that they were Iberians, but at this distance he could not be sure of which tribe.

  Sweat dampened his brow. Even with all the Masulians coming from the farm, they were badly outnumbered if these warriors were hostile. The two columns faced each other in silence for long heartbeats as they sized one another up.

  Caros noticed two things at once. A drum of hoof beats from their rear and the unknown Iberian horsemen spreading to form a line. Aksel cursed and glanced over his shoulder. Caros followed his gaze and saw the remainder of the Masulians ranging up behi
nd them in the distance. A warhorn sounded and Caros swivelled around to see the unknown horsemen starting forward at a walk. Aksel shouted an order to his troop to fall back to join with the rest of their riders. They turned and began riding, but halted in consternation when they saw their leader had remained with Caros. Aksel yelled at them in frustration. Caros in the meantime, saw the oncoming warriors picking up speed. In moments they would cover the distance between them and a volley of arrows and javelins would decimate the Masulians.

  He needed to act fast. “Go Aksel! Your men will not leave without you.” Caros did not wait for the Masulian to respond, but instead urged his mare towards the oncoming warriors. As he did so, he cast a hurried invocation to Runeovex, god of javelins and war, that these warriors were Alfren’s men and not the enemy!

  The mare broke into a trot under Caros’ guidance, heading towards the center of the formation. He held up his right hand and yelled at the top of his voice.

  “Warriors! I am Caros of the Bastetani. Do not attack!” He kept shouting and urged his mare onwards still faster, furiously waving his open hand. By Runeovex, they were going to ride him down! He dared not spare a glance over his shoulder to see what the Masulians were doing. He fixed his eyes on the rider leading the center of the long mass of warriors. He shouted again, but his voice was drowned out by the hoof beats of so many mounts. He saw the warriors draw back their spears, readying to cast them. He waved desperately for them to stop.

  Runeovex had heard Caros’ prayer and interceded. The leading warrior bellowed a command and a wild warrior beside him blew a great warhorn. Two spaced bursts of the warhorn pealed through the valley. The signal to gather. Horsemen up and down the line curbed their mounts, pulling hard on their reins. The charge was slowing and Caros too reined in his mare, his heart beating through his ribs. Another heartbeat or two would have seen him pierced through.