Transsilvanian

by Hector Miller

  This time I did not turn away, but grabbed my broad-headed spear in one hand and battle-axe in the other. The legionaries to the sides of the gap let down their shields and drew back their pila, then fell backwards, their bodies riddled with arrows. I threw the axe, cleaved a skull and rammed the spear into the shield of another warrior, bowling him over. A legionary stormed forward, sword in hand, but a lasso plucked him off his feet. Screaming, he was dragged to his doom.

  I yelled a command. The Huns turned their horses and powered away into the dust. Surprisingly retreating on the cusp of victory.

  But the joy of the Arab’s men were short-lived as the dressed ranks of the IV Italica emerged from the dust, enveloping them from three sides. Attacked from the front and on both flanks, the legionaries retreated across the bridge, many falling to the vengeful blades of their countrymen.

  * * *

  Later, with darkness falling, I watched the last of the Romans retreat across the bridge. I turned to Gordas. “Burn it.”

  Before long the flame tongues were reaching high into the sky.

  Marcus reined in next to me. “Can’t help but think we are burning our bridges”, he said.

  Chapter 30 – Contubernium

  A smiling Gordas was soon showing off the ivory-hilted gladius he had looted from an equestrian tribune. It truly was a fine weapon.

  “Tonight I will celebrate with the warriors, Eochar. I know you have friends among the Romans, the men who you shared a tent with many moons ago.”

  I nodded and set off to find them.

  Before long I sat next to a roaring fire among my friends from my old contubernium.

  “The lands north of the Danube have been my home for more than a year now, my friends”, I said. “What news is there from Rome?”

  From experience I knew that gossip was a staple of the rankers.

  Ursa smiled. “If information is what you wish for, you’ve come to the right place, you have.”

  “We’re not the only ones the Arab and his brother are screwing over. Shared a cup with a messenger passing through from Antioch a month or two ago.” He took another swig.

  Knowing Ursa, I imagined that it was most likely that they shared and amphora, but I just nodded.

  “The man told me, in confidence mind you, that Priscus has been given the whole Eastern Empire to rule over. He’s raised taxes, he takes bribes, and kills anyone who speaks against him. Sounds like he’s as big an arsehole as the Arab.”

  “I’ve met him”, I said. “He ordered the killing of my family.”

  The smiles disappeared from their faces and Ursa refilled my cup.

  “Tell us”, he said. So I did.

  “Bloody bastard”, Pumilio said when I was done. He eyed me suspiciously. “Why haven’t you killed him yet?”

  “The time will come, my friend. For now, Arash has other plans.”

  They all nodded in revered agreement, understanding that the will of the gods must be respected.

  “What else is going on in the Empire?” I asked.

  “Looks like the peace with the Sasanians the Arab was so proud of is going to shit”, Pumilio said.

  He took a swallow and continued. “The emperor gave away Armenia to the Sasanians after we had our backsides kicked. Well, Armenia wasn’t really his to give, eh? The Parthian families who ruled Armenia for close to two hundred years ignored the wishes of our illustrious emperor and told Shapur and his Sasanians to get the hell out of Armenia. War between Armenia and the Sasanians is a sure thing.”

  “But the one thing everyone is talking about, is the huge celebrations to be held in less than two years. Rome will be a thousand years old then, and it’ll be the biggest party the world has ever seen.”

  Ursa said. “I’ve never been to Rome. Would give anything to be there for the free drink and the beautiful girls. Always had a dream to visit the arena and see them gladiatiors.” Little did we know that the gods were listening.

  Ursa filled the empty cups again.

  He held aloft the substantial wine skin, now half empty. “One of them cavalrymen had this strapped to his saddle.” He drank deeply and smacked his lips. “Won’t need it where he’s going. By the way, I hope Hades is kickin’ the shit out of him.”

  Pumilio chose to disagree. “He was an equestrian, Ursa. I’d wager he had enough gold to make good and proper sacrifices for years. Them equestrians are probably all riding across the Elysian Fields right now.”

  Pumilio paused to wet his throat.

  “Hades ends up havin’ his way with the likes of us. Poor soldiers who skimp on sacrifices.”

  Ursa suddenly appeared worried. He emptied his cup in one gulp and refilled it again. While muttering something, he poured a libation of red wine on the ground.

  “Doesn’t count if it’s looted wine”, Pumilio added.

  Ursa’s hand clutched his amulet. “Don’t mind Pumilio, Ursa. He’s pulling your leg”, I said.

  A grinning Pumilio slapped Ursa on the back, causing him to choke and spill his wine.

  Silentus cleared his throat. He seldom spoke, but when he did, people listened.

  “Umbra, you are still one of us, in here”, he tapped his knuckles on his chest, “so I’ll say it as it is.”

  I nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

  “The boys in the legion are done with the emperor, sir. Done. We’re yours to command. And don’t worry overmuch, we’re not concerned about taking up arms against Rome. Fact is, we got nothin’ against Rome, sir, we just happen to hate and despise this emperor. Maybe we’ll get a new one soon. Chances are we’ll like him better.”

  He took a long swig directly from the wineskin, then stared into the fire, as was his habit.

  We drank wine and feasted on horsemeat grilled over the coals. It was well after midnight when I eventually retired to my tent. I had overindulged and already regretted it, but the simple logic of my soldier friends put everything in perspective and my mind was at peace.

  The sun was high in the sky when Cai kicked my feet. He sniffed the air, scowling: “Smell like place where dog died.”

  Ignoring the remark, I crawled out of the tent and walked down to the river. A Hun scout was stationed close to the northern bank. “The Romans have retreated south, lord.”

  I walked upstream a hundred paces and waded into the cool water.

  Soon I felt like my old self again. I lay on the riverbank in the soft grass until the sun dried me, then went back to my tent. I took time to comb my hair and beard.

  I had neglected to care for my armour after the battle. My eye caught the oiled scale armour, neatly stacked in the corner of my tent. I drew my jian, the blade expertly cleaned and sharpened. All my weapons, including my bow, had been cared for.

  Cai was waiting for me when I eventually emerged from my tent.

  “Thank you Cai Lun”, I said.

  “Armour not clean itself” he said. “Not good look like peasant when guests arrive.”

  I harboured suspicions that Cai was afforded glimpses into the future due to his closeness to the Dao, but he always insisted that it was nothing of the sort. “Just use eyes. Not look with eyes, see with eyes.”

  All I saw at that moment was Elmanos approaching. “Lord Eochar, the king requests your company.”

  Chapter 31 – Goths (September 245 AD)

  I accompanied the Roxolani commander to the tent of the king. I was ushered in by a guard, where I came face to face with a grinning Kniva.

  He was not only my brother-in-law but also the king, the lawgiver, of the Thervingi Goths.

  I went down on one knee, but Ostrogotha, who was also present said: “Rise, Eochar, prince of the Roxolani.”

  As I came to my feet, Kniva embraced me. “It is good to see you, brother. I hear that you have been busy doing the work of Teiwaz.”

  I grinned and inclined my head towards the Ostrogothic king, who extended his hand and clasped my arm in a grip of iron.

  Bradakos clapped his hands. Soon
servants laid on platters of fried smoked pork and prime cuts of mutton roasted over the open fire. Looted amphorae were opened, and the rich wine poured into golden goblets.

  “Bradakos my friend, I do not see wagons heaped with loot, but I see a Roman legion encamped close by, as if they are your allies. I would that you share your tale with us”, Ostrogotha said.

  Kniva smiled. “I wager that my sister’s husband had a hand in this. I too would hear the tale.”

  Bradakos held out his oversized goblet. A slave filled it to the brim with red wine, near purple in colour.

  He drank deeply. “It will be my pleasure.”

  My mentor shared the tale of our adventures over the past months. Bradakos viewed me as a younger brother, or even a son. He did not mind heaping praise upon me as he knew that I would never be a threat to his kingship. In fact, his association with me, the messenger of the war god, increased his status in the eyes of his subjects.

  Much later, when we had told our story, Ostrogotha spoke.

  “You have done well, Bradakos of the Roxolani. Rome is not an easy enemy to contend with.” He looked at me sideways. “But I guess it helps to have the messenger of Arash by your side.”

  I told them then how the IV Italica came to be our allies.

  Kniva shook his head in amazement. “A whole Roman legion to fight at our side? If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it.”

  Slaves refilled our goblets, then Bradakos asked the Gothic kings to tell their tale.

  “We breached the limes far to the east, at Noviodunum near the Dark Sea. Our warriors overran the Roman fort and put the garrison to the sword. There the armies of the Thervingi and the Gruthungi forded the river and poured across the border into Roman lands.”

  “Initially, we did not encounter any resistance. We raided far and wide, gaining much loot. We scaled the walls of the smaller towns but did not try to take the well-garrisoned major settlements.”

  I nodded. “It is wise not to waste the lives of the warriors by storming the high walls of the large towns. More than enough riches is within easy reach.”

  “You sound just like my son-in-law”, Ostrogotha said, and playfully slapped Kniva on the back. It was clear that they had grown close over the past months. I even noticed a hint of pride when the great Gothic king spoke of Kniva’s deeds.

  Kniva continued: “We slowly worked our way west, stripping the rich countryside of anything of value. It did not take long for the legions to mobilise and regroup. They pursued us, trying to bring us to battle.” He grinned then. “But on your advice, brother, we never accepted battle. We scouted well, making sure that we would not be trapped. We, in turn, laid ambushes for the Roman cavalry. Before long they did not venture far from their iron legions. Last we heard was that three Roman legions have congregated near Nicopolis, seventy miles to the east.”

  “Philip the Arab, the usurper emperor, is but eighty miles south of here with another three legions.” I smiled as the Roman strategy became clear to me. “The two Roman armies will advance at the same time. I expect another army is travelling from the west, moving east along the Via Militaris. They wish to trap us within Moesia and kill us all. Your wagons filled with loot will make a fine windfall for the imperial treasury in Rome.”

  Ostrogotha smiled: “Then, my friends, I believe that the time for the Goths and the Roxolani to return home has arrived.”

  Bradakos sighed. “There is something else.”

  He took the last swallow from his goblet and a slave hurried over to refill the vessel. “The paths of the Roxolani and the Carpiani have separated.”

  Ostrogotha frowned, clearly not pleased with the news.

  “Tarbus and I see things differently. If we had stayed together, it would not have ended well.”

  We all knew that the Carpiani answered to the kings of the Goths.

  “I will speak to Tarbus”, Ostrogotha growled. “I will not have them disrupt the alliance.”

  His words were also meant as a veiled threat to Bradakos, although the Goths would tread carefully as they feared Octar and his Hun horde.

  Bradakos showed his wisdom and said: “I will do all in my power to ensure that the alliance remains.”

  Satisfied, Ostrogotha nodded. “Bradakos, I have known Tarbus for many seasons. His greed will be his downfall.” The king wetted his throat. “But the Carpiani are brave warriors. We cannot allow him to take them down with him. In seasons to come, we will need every warrior we are able to muster. Rome will not forget.”

  Bradakos raised his goblet and we drank to the success of the alliance.

  The Gruthungi king said: “When we are back in our lands, I will meet with the Carpiani king. I will ensure that he stays under the Gothic heel.” Little did he know that the next time he would see Tarbus, it would be under less than ideal circumstances.

  * * *

  The next morning, even before the hundreds of wagons heavy with Roman loot could begin their journey north towards the river, the Scythians left camp.

  The Goths escorted the baggage, while the Roxolani, who were by far the better horsemen, scouted the lay of the land. Hostilius and I accompanied Gordas and his remaining half a thousand Urugundi. Vibius was beset by a coughing ailment and Cai insisted that he stayed with the baggage train. Elmanos, who would be scouting south, asked Marcus to accompany them.

  We rode north, following the Roman road towards the Danube.

  My friends were all capable riders by then. Our tireless Hun steeds enabled us to scout for up to fourty miles while still being able to return to camp the same evening.

  Our warband was large enough to deter Roman cavalry from engaging us, which allowed us to sacrifice stealth for the benefit of speed.

  After a watch of hard riding, we watered the horses in a stream close to the road. Hostilius surveyed the land with an expert eye. “No legion will travel across this terrain. We would do well to stay on the road.”

  Following the advice of the Primus Pilus, we continued along the Roman road. It was halfway through the second watch of the morning when Gordas pointed to a slight haze on the horizon.

  “Men are moving towards us”, he said.

  I squinted into the distance and noticed the dust typical of a large host on the move.

  “Gordas, you truly have eyes like the bird of Tengri”, I said. My friend answered with a rare smile. The eagle was not only revered as the bird of the sky god, but was also a symbol of power.

  “Let us see who stirs the dust”, he said and we kicked our horses into an easy canter.

  As we approached, the dust cloud grew in enormity.

  Hostilius rode at my side. “That ain’t the legions, Domitius. Too much dust for men on foot. Could be they gathered all the mounted auxiliaries this side of Germania, but I doubt it. The auxiliaries are paired with the legions to ensure they behave. If you throw too many of them together you soon end up with an out-of-control barbarian army.”

  Hostilius, who was riding on my left, put my own thoughts to words: “Could it not be the Carpiani?”

  “Speculate is waste of breath. Wait. See with own eyes”, came the reply from behind us.

  We did not have to wait long.

  A group of thirty riders, most probably advance scouts of the approaching column, crested a hill two hundred paces distant. We immediately reined in.

  It was too far away to discern their identity. After a few moments two of the riders detached from the group and trotted in our direction, hands held at their sides with open palms facing upwards.

  Gordas and I assumed the same pose and rode to meet the unknown riders.

  It soon became clear that they were barbarians like us, which did not make it less risky.

  Gordas, who was riding on my right, said in a low voice: “I will take the one on the left, he’ll be watching you. Make sure you get the one opposite me. Use your axe, it will be the quickest.”

  Based on his advice, I had no doubt that my Hun frie
nd had previous experience of tribal negotiations.

  In any event, extreme measures were not required as a smile broke on the face of the leader of the approaching men.

  He called out: “Well met, Lord Eochar.”

  I recognized him when he spoke. He was a warrior, oathbound to my friend the Carpiani noble, Thiaper.

  “It is good see you, Dardanos. Is all well with your lord?”

  I read the answer on his face before the words were spoken. “He is grievously wounded, lord.”

  I turned to Dardanos’s companion. “Go tell your men to rest.” I was a great lord, so he did as he was told.

  Gordas may have been a barbarian, but he was extremely perceptive and realised that I needed privacy. “I will order our men to rest, Eochar”, he said, turning his horse towards the Urugundi.

  “Tell me all, Dardanos”, I said and added, “as Arash is your witness.”

  Chapter 32 – Dardanos

  We remained on our horses, halfway between the Carpiani and the Huns. I did not care. Thiaper was a good man, and a friend.

  Dardanos told his tale.

  “King Tarbus was consumed by rage after we lost so many warriors in our attempt to breach the Roman defences at the Rucar pass, lord.”

  I nodded as I had witnessed the battle.

  “The king blamed King Bradakos of the Roxolani, lord. He said that he had not been forewarned about the artillery of the Romans.”

  Again I nodded as I was aware of the circumstances surrounding the events.

  “Days later, when the Roxolani successfully breached the Roman defences, the Carpiani warriors sang your praises, lord. They said that no one is able to stand against the one who wields the power of Arash. The king became extremely agitated, then ordered us to leave immediately.”

  Dardanos took a swig from a skin tied to his saddle. “We rode past the Roman fort when king Tarbus ordered lord Thiaper to burn it, and nail the Roman warriors to the walls. Lord Thiaper told the king that you had forbidden it. He refused to burn the fort, lord, defying king Tarbus.”