Caros froze as Alfren interrupted the General.
“You cannot find them, so you cannot decide what to do.” He nodded his head once and went on. “That will explain why there is no siege out there. Looks like most of your warriors are practically ignoring the city.”
Caros glanced wide-eyed at Neugen, horrified at Alfren’s brusque tone.
Alfren continued. “I will find this new enemy and finish them, but I will need more than my two thousand riders.”
Mago smirked and coughed into his hand to cover the laugh that exploded from him. Hasdrubal rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. He looked at Hannibal who was considering Alfren with a deep frown.
“You know better than anybody what our Iberian warriors are like. They just tell it as they see it. That is what makes them so damn fun to command.”
Bomilcar snorted in disgust. “Don’t know how you manage. Honestly, give me Tanit’s children any day of the year to command.” The General lumbered on bowed legs to a couch and grabbed a flagon, some fermented drink presumably.
Hannibal flashed a glance at Hasdrubal and then looked at Massinissa. “Have ten thousand of your best ready by noon tomorrow.”
The Prince inclined his head, “As you wish. I will send them under the command of Massibaka.”
Hannibal accepted this and turned to Mago. “Is Muttines returned yet?”
“Yes, he arrived last night. He will be able to field five thousand more.”
Hannibal thought for a moment before addressing Alfren. “With your men, that is seventeen thousand riders. I will lead and Muttines will be in command of the heavy horse which will include your warriors and the Libyans. If you can raise more Bastetani or other Iberian horsemen between now and noon tomorrow, they will be yours to command under Muttines.”
Alfren smiled, a rare thing to see. “Just one other thing, General. Remember my Bastetani when we take Sagunt.”
Hannibal considered Alfren for a long heartbeat before smiling and calling to the Libyan. “My thanks for your report. Fetch the due rewards from my treasurer.” He dismissed them all. “Until tomorrow.”
The Libyan saw them out and bade them wait by their mounts. He then disappeared back into the pavilion.
Wincing at the bright afternoon sunshine, the trio walked over to their horses. Caros swung up onto his mare, as did Alfren. The Libyan came hurrying out of the pavilion, eyeing them reflectively. Caros and Alfren watched as Neugen stepped in front of the Libyan who looked at him blankly. Neugen cocked his head, smiled and held out his hand. The Libyan sighed and with a sheepish smile, withdrew four leather pouches. They were dyed white and bore the red crescent of Tanit. He slapped them into Neugen’s palm where they made a muffled, but satisfyingly metallic sound. Alfren smiled at Caros through his beard.
Caros laughed. “I think perhaps Neugen is the true trader here.”
Neugen hopped astride his mount and tossed two bags over to Alfren and a bag to Caros before pocketing the remaining bag. “I figured you two would be so busy thinking about tomorrow you would forget all about the ‘due rewards’ the Barca mentioned.”
They laughed aloud as they rode off to their camp, Neugen bringing up their rear. As they reached the perimeter, he turned in his mount and made an obscene gesture at the Libyan who was following in the distance.
CHAPTER 20
THE FIRE DANCED AND sparked into the bowels of the night as fat dripped from the goat that hung suspended above it. The smell of roasting flesh made Caros’ stomach grumble and Neugen laughed when he heard. They sat with the other Captains of the Bastetani warriors. Around them flickered countless other fires as the army rested. They knew the enemy was somewhere under the same stars and that the following day the two armies would clash.
Caros was wondering how things had happened so fast. Five days earlier he had been sitting around a campfire, hoping they would find a boar to spear. Now they sat hoping to spear warriors on the morrow. Near as he could tell, Hannibal had peeled away twenty thousand of the horsemen from the walls at Sagunt to meet this Carpetani-Oretani army. They had ridden hard into the western highlands. After raising an additional three thousand well-equipped, mounted warriors from the steady stream arriving at Sagunt, Alfren had approached Hannibal again the afternoon they rode out. He laid before Hannibal his reasoning of where they should concentrate their search. Hannibal had listened, considered and agreed. When Alfren told them that Hannibal had agreed to ride towards the headwaters of the Tagus, Caros and Neugen looked at one another in surprise. They weren’t surprised that Hannibal had decided to follow Alfren’s advice, as it made sense the enemy would use that terrain for concealment and water, but rather it was the newfound respect in Alfren’s voice when he spoke of Hannibal. Alfren’s only explanation was that a General who would listen to reason could go a long way.
Neugen hopped up from where he sat and with a deft slice, removed a piece of roasted goat meat. He threw his head back and dropped the succulent flesh into his mouth. Caros got up and pushed him out of the way. A large area of pink flesh showed where Neugen had sliced away the meat. “Bastard! I’d been eyeing that piece!” He found another promising bit and took that instead.
With his mouth full, Neugen replied, “Hmm and now I know why. Tasty!”
The other men about the fire laughed. They were all tense with expectation of battle and laughter was a welcome release. Neugen loved the audience and played to it every moment he got. Caros hoped when it came to battle, his friend would not try slaughtering the enemy with his jokes. Come to think of it...
Men approached the campfire and Caros was the first to notice the bronze muscle-cuirass of the General. He chewed and swallowed, pointing with his chin at the oncoming men. Both hastily wiped grease from their bearded faces and cleaned their hands on their tunics. The men about the fire rose as Hannibal stepped into the firelight accompanied by Muttines and Alfren. Caros had never seen such armour. Metalworkers had moulded it to look like a muscular male chest and stomach. It was striking and gave the wearer a heroic quality.
“No need to rise. Just making sure you are all fed and ready for battle?” Hannibal did not require an answer. The men felt honoured to have the General in their midst. Caros eyed Muttines. This was the first time he had met the Libyan Commander of the Horse. He had a swarthy complexion and tight curly black hair plastered his scalp. Despite the hawk-like nose and deep narrow set eyes, he appeared genial. The men all nodded happily and sank back to their haunches, resuming their meals or weapon sharpening. Caros remained standing, Neugen beside him.
Hannibal looked at the pair and smiled. “Ah, I remember you fellows. You ride with Alfren here. Well get a good meal in you and try to sleep, it will be a busy day tomorrow. Drink plenty of water as well.”
The men all murmured agreement and bade Hannibal and Muttines good night as they withdrew to visit other campfires.
“Amazing! Alfren has really got his ear?” Neugen said quietly.
It was true Caros thought. “Makes sense since none of them were doing a cursed thing before Alfren woke them up.”
Neugen looked at Caros, his eyes bright. “Hey Caros, remember when we were after the Arvenci along with Alugra. I told you about how I longed to be on a real campaign?”
“Sure, why?”
“Pinch me ‘cause I am dreaming that I am on a real campaign and a bloody Barca just said goodnight to me!”
Caros punched his friend’s shoulder. “Shut it, Saur’s dogs man, he probably heard you.”
Neugen yelped. “Gods! I said pinch me not break my bloody arm.”
Caros gave up and slumped onto his coat. “It is pretty unreal though, you are right.”
There were nods from the men around the fire as their minds drifted to what would occur the following day. Their mortality, their prowess, the fickle gods of fortune and war that could see them rich, dead, captured or mutilated. Sleep was elusive for many that night.
In the false dawn, that time of night w
hen the dark takes on a translucent quality allowing forms more visibility, men came through their camp to wake them. They were not concerned about noise and the first warhorn was blown long and loud from just paces away from where Caros lay. Like all the warriors he had slept in his tunic and breeches, discarding only his metal cuirass and helmet. Curses and groans erupted about him as men started from their troubled slumber. He grunted and threw his coat aside. The air was cold despite it being the summer season. He rose quickly and said a silent prayer to Endovex for sending him the Masulian healer and rubbed the thick livid scar on the side of his face. Neugen rose nearby and yawned. Buckling on his cuirass, Caros made for a nearby bush for relief. He remembered the General’s advice from the evening before. Drink plenty before the day begins. Sound advice. Neugen shuffled up beside him and proceeded to direct a stream into the bush.
“Good day for a victory!” He said happily.
Caros shook himself and tucked up. He looked at Neugen who was humming away, eyes closed. “Looks like you slept well last night.”
Neugen half opened his eyes and they slid towards Caros. “Hmm, I did. Dreams of spoils.”
“Oh, I was just thinking I would ask Hannibal to come say goodnight to you....”
Caros jumped back with a laugh as Neugen swivelled a stream of piss toward him threateningly.
The light grew into dawn and the mobile army of Hannibal Barca took to their mounts. This was a day for war and Hannibal was determined to end this threat at their back and return to mete out justice to Sagunt. Scouts were already returning from the positions they’d held through the night. Mounted warriors sat tall on their horses waiting for the word. Alfren sat patiently ahead of him and Neugen. Caros turned to his right and left. Everywhere he looked were the mounted warriors of the Bastetani, their horses breathing streams of smoke from nostrils like mythical beasts in the morning cold.
A barelegged lad with a threadbare tunic rode up to the warriors and Alfren beckoned him. The lad brought the first message and rattled it out quickly to Alfren.
Alfren shifted in his seat, “The enemy have crossed the river and are already marching towards us.”
“Gods they got up earlier than us, they were on the other side last night!” Neugen cursed.
“Can’t kill men that are on the wrong side of the river. Let them come.”
Caros considered their options. Recent reports put enemy numbers at eighty thousand. Pitted against just twenty thousand, this was going to be all about mobility. On an impulse he walked his horse up an incline and looked over the Masulian camp. They formed the bulk of the column, but were the lightest armed.
Their fires were dead and no smoke issued from the grey flecks where the night before, flames had warmed them and their food. Of the ten thousand warriors, there was not a sign. Caros urged his horse to the very top of the incline and looked all about. Nowhere could he see a sign of the Masulians. Alfren rode up followed by Neugen.
Caros looked at Alfren. “They left long before dawn. We cannot hope to defeat the enemy in open battle without them, there are too many for that.”
“What’s the plan then?” Neugen asked quickly.
Alfren turned to him, “We bait the enemy and force him to fight on our terms.”
He pointed south, to where the Tagus flowed. “We trap him at the river and break him there. Nothing less than total defeat will do.”
Caros wasn’t quite sure how they’d do it, “How will the river help?”
“The Masulian should already be in position on the south bank. They will remain hidden. We lead the enemy to the river and feign retreat. The hope is they will cross the river to pursue us. The Masulians will then strike.”
Caros saw the opportunity. The river would slow the enemy warriors and the Masulians could hurl their javelins at the warriors as they waded through the Tagus. If it worked, they could slaughter the enemy at the river. If it worked.
A warhorn sounded. One bellow and another and another. Advance! Alfren turned his mount, the early sun’s rays reflecting a deep blue, like the plumage of the raven, in his thick beard. “Come on! They have seen us. Time for battle.”
Neugen flashed a wide grin at Caros. “Yup, and a good day for it!” He laughed and followed after Alfren.
Caros looked to the northwest and caught his first sight of the enemy warriors. They streamed like ants through the valleys and over the hills towards the position of the Bastetani and Libyan heavy horsemen. As he watched, he saw Hannibal, his armour like burnished gold, at the front of a column of Libyan horsemen. Hannibal commanded the right wing, the most northern of the Carthaginian forces and those furthest from the Tagus. The most dangerous position if he were to be cut off by the enemy. Caros felt his heart beat faster and his mouth dried at the sight of the hills filled with the enemy. Their numbers seemed to grow with every heartbeat. Caros heard Alfren shout his name and pointed his mare down the incline. The Bastetani horsemen were moving forward. Caros broke his mare into a canter and rejoined the column beside Neugen and Alfren.
Neugen gave him a glance, “Like old times!”
Caros smiled, “Let us feed them to the crows!”
Alfren gave a signal and a warrior blew the advance. The Bastetani horsemen formed the middle of Hannibal’s lines. Muttines commanded the Libyans on the left wing. Warhorns began to sound from all three formations and the Barcid forces walked their horses forward. There would be no wild charge, the ground was too broken for antics like that.
A wedge of Carpetani warriors broke from a copse of trees at the mouth of a shallow valley ahead of them. The warriors streamed towards them, armed with swords and javelins and defended by their stout shields. Their numbers grew as they surged forward towards the Bastetani ranks. Alfren shouted a command and the signaller drew a deep breath and blew. Caros found himself holding two javelins in his left hand and another in his right. The warhorn sounded deafeningly and the horsemen reacted at once, racing towards the enemy. They had no intention of charging into the lethal spears that the warriors were already bracing, butt-first into the ground at their feet. Instead they swept past the front ranks of Carpetani warriors, hurling their javelins at their contorted faces. Caros hurled his first and second and turning the mare so he would slide past the front of the enemy, he let loose with the final javelin. Some of the enemy warriors had succumbed to battle frenzy and broke ranks to attack the horsemen thundering by. Caros heard a horse squeal in agony, the sound reaching above the cries of injured Carpetani and the thundering of hooves. Then they were past the wedge of Carpetani and the warhorn was sounding the call to fall back. The Bastetani streamed back to their position, leaving behind just a few warriors unlucky enough to have been struck by arrow, javelin or slingshot.
Neugen was grinning maniacally as he rode uphill beside Caros. “That was a charge! Did you see their eyes? Ha, they tasted our iron!”
Caros grinned weakly. In truth he didn’t even know if he had scored a hit. Looking over his shoulder he saw the Carpetani surging forward as though untouched. More were now coming over the near slopes of the hills behind. They were endless. Alfren gathered the horsemen at the top of a gradual slope. It was a hard slope for a charge, littered with loose rock, making their mounts’ footing unsure. Caros wondered what the Commander had in mind. He glanced towards Hannibal’s flank, but could see little through the dust that had been raised on the battlefield.
Alfren bellowed and cursed at the Bastetani horsemen, readying them for the next attack. Men dragged javelins from their quivers and readied themselves for another charge. Caros cursed inwardly, feeling this was madness on the treacherous slope. He needn’t have worried for Alfren was no fool and led the horsemen at a slow walk towards the Carpetani who had now hit the incline and were labouring up it. Caros saw their faces and it dawned on him how much experience Alfren had. The Carpetani had sprinted into the valley after crossing the river in the cold before dawn. They had then taken the impact of thousands of hurled javelins and then cha
rged on. Their impetus was broken and they were exhausted. As Caros watched, the Carpetani urged one another up the slope, winded and drained. Only the proximity of the Bastetani horsemen gave them any incentive to push upwards. They saw the Bastetani bearing down and screamed insults and shook their spears at their enemy. The more experienced Carpetani tried to order the warriors into ranks and ready their shields. They were partially successful only because many of the warriors were panting and grateful to halt.
Alfren chose his moment and gave the order to let loose the first volley of javelins. The Bastetani had the advantage of targeting a stationary enemy below them. The javelins arced upwards like a curtain edged with iron. These missiles were still airborne when the second volley followed. The first struck home, burying iron into shields, knocking helms askew and in some cases finding flesh and knocking men to the ground. The second volley struck, finding many more targets as the Carpetani reeled from the first. Then Alfren ordered the third and final volley. They were now so close to the front ranks of the enemy that Caros hurled his javelin in an almost flat trajectory. He watched as the warrior he’d targeted, yelled at the man beside him, encouraging him to hold. The javelin struck the Carpetani in the chest and punched through the armour into his body. The warrior lurched back a half step and stared down at the quivering shaft. The Carpetani warrior looked up and it seemed their eyes locked. The man’s face was ashen, but he glared ahead and then dropped his spear, drew the falcata at his side and with his eyes still fixed on Caros, hacked the javelin’s shaft off, raised his blade above his head and cursed the Bastetani foe.
On the hilltop the horsemen turned to watch the Carpetani reform. Alfren nodded in admiration of a valiant foe. Despite taking heavy losses, they were reforming and now advancing again.
Neugen looked at Caros, “Bastards won’t lie down and quit will they?”
Warhorn Page 27