Transsilvanian

by Hector Miller

  “The king called him a coward in front of us all. Tarbus’s oathsworn warriors nailed the Romans to the wall and then burned the fort.”

  He must have seen the unspoken question in my eyes, as he paused to explain. “My lord Thiaper is known as a brave warrior, lord. He has gained a reputation among the tribes of the Carpiani. I think that the king was afraid to order his death. Even some of the king’s oathsworn have ties to Lord Thiaper.”

  Thiaper was a Carpiani noble. Under extreme circumstances, he could challenge the king to combat for the throne. Tarbus knew that ordering my friend’s death would most probably have led to that, which explained his actions.

  Dardanos, content that I understood, continued. “The king decided to raid the rich gold mines in the mountains east of Apulum. On our journey, king Tarbus reconciled with my lord Thiaper. He called him into his tent and apologized. I heard it with my own ears, lord.”

  It did not sound like the Tarbus I knew, but I had no reason to doubt the words of Dardanos.

  “We travelled fast, lord. Lord Tarbus and his oathsworn scouted the way. Before the Romans could muster their warriors, we slipped past their fort at Apulum. The mines were well-defended but we prevailed, even though we lost many brave warriors.”

  “Our saddlebags were heavy with looted gold. It seemed that the gods favoured us, lord. That is until we tried to return home. The Romans had dug a ditch across the pass. The barrier had a rampart and stakes, much the same as at Rucar. Same artillery as well.”

  This did not come as a surprise as it was what I expected.

  “We were running out of food. One out of three warriors who came to this land has gone to Tengri, lord. There were not enough warriors to storm the wall and defeat the Romans.”

  “Then the king went to speak with the great Roman general. Lord Decius is his name. King Tarbus returned safely. The Roman general and the king came to an agreement. If a Carpiani were to defeat the Roman champion, he would let us go with half the gold. If not, we would lay down our weapons and become slaves. Lord Tarbus paid the Roman lord even before the champions fought.”

  “The king chose lord Thiaper as his champion. It was a good choice, and a great honour for my lord.”

  “Did you witness the fight, Dardanos?”

  “I saw all of it. Lord Thiaper fought like a god, but the Roman...” he struggled to find the right words. “The Roman fought in a way I have never seen before. He wore no armour, but he moved like lightning, cutting up my lord piece by piece. But the Roman slipped somehow, before my lord was done for, and he died on the blade of a Carpiani sword.”

  “The Romans were distracted while the champions fought. Lord Tarbus had us attack the wall and we easily breached it. Suppose he did not trust the Romans to keep their end of the bargain.”

  I was baffled by the deal Decius had agreed to. Why would he allow Tarbus to leave with half the gold? Why not just destroy the Carpiani?

  I abandoned that line of thought and enquired after the health of my friend. “And your lord? Has he made a full recovery?”

  “He is still very ill, lord. We are not allowed to see him. The shaman of the king is treating his wounds. Some of the nobles loyal to Lord Thiaper blame the king for his injuries, but while my lord is alive, they have hope, and will remain with the army.”

  The story seemed odd in more than one way, but I realised that I would arouse suspicion and create further problems by asking too many questions.

  I had one last question for him. “Are you being pursued by the Romans?”

  “They are but two days’ march behind us, lord. The Carpiani horde will reach where we are now before the sun sets this evening.”

  “Dardanos of the Carpiani, go now and inform your king that you have found the army of the Goths and the Roxolani”, I said, dismissing him. I turned my horse and trotted back to join the Huns.

  The arrival of the Carpiani was important news that had to reach the ears of the kings. We rode back to the camp at a gallop, only stopping to change and water the horses. It was late afternoon when we eventually returned, our tired bodies permeated with dust.

  The barbarian army had not been idle, as their camp was ten miles closer to the Danube. Gordas, Hostilius and I found Bradakos outside his tent, still on his horse. Despite being the king, he had led the Roxolani scouting party that reconnoitred towards the east.

  We were ushered into the king’s tent. At his command, slaves served us watered down white wine in enormous silver mugs. We all drank thirstily, wetting our parched throats.

  We were hardly seated on the soft furs when Elmanos and Marcus entered, equally dusty from their mission south. They accepted the watered wine and greedily gulped it down, both wiping their beards with the back of their hands as they sat down. I managed to hide my amusement at the similarities between the cultured Roman equestrian and the barbarian noble.

  The king nodded, and looked straight at Elmanos. “Lord, we have located the emperor and two legions to the south. They are but two days’ march behind us.”

  It was my turn to report. “We have located the Carpiani. Tonight they will camp thirty miles west of here. A Roman army follows two days behind. There is more, but it is a long story.”

  Bradakos held up his hand. “I would hear it all, Eochar, but first, we too have found a Roman army. Two legions, two days’ march from here.”

  We knew that the Romans were closing the jaws of the trap.

  “Bradakos, I was told an unsettling tale today. Our friend Thiaper is seriously wounded. Even worse, I believe that Tarbus is hatching a plan that is less than savoury.”

  At the mention of the name of the king of the Carpiani, a scowl appeared on my mentor’s face, his mood suddenly dark.

  “Tell us”, said the king.

  So I did.

  Hostilius spoke first. “Let me try to get this right. Our friend Thiaper defies Tarbus in front of the warriors. Tarbus, the wise, forgives him. Then the Carpiani king gets himself trapped and Decius, the kind Roman senator, lets him off the hook. Unlucky for Thiaper, he is seriously wounded, but the kind king’s shaman is looking after him all good and proper.”

  Hostilius downed the content of his second mug of wine. “Not bloody likely.”

  “Let me tell you what I think really happened.”

  “Thiaper is a noble of the Carpiani. An honest man, a formidable fighter, and most importantly, he’s got the support of the lesser nobles as well as the warriors. Our man starts to stand up to Tarbus, who is shit scared that Thiaper might challenge him to single combat. He’s too cautious to order Thiaper’s death, as there is a chance his own men may turn against him and kill him in the process.”

  Hostilius grinned, getting into the swing of the story. “Tarbus is a sly bastard, so he acts like he’s forgiven Thiaper. It also raises his esteem in the eyes of the warriors. Then he takes his oathsworn and meets with the snake Decius while they were supposed to be scouting the lay of the land.”

  “Decius allows Tarbus to ‘slip’ through to the mines, where he fills his saddlebags with gold. As payment, Decius gets to keep half the gold, but he won’t tell the emperor about his windfall. He makes it look like the Carpiani breached the wall while the champions were fighting and that they escaped with all the looted gold.”

  “In addition, the Roman champion was supposed to kill Thiaper, solving another problem for Tarbus, but he gets lucky and survives. He’s keeping Thiaper alive to bind the errant nobles to the army. Once they cross the river, he’ll kill Tarbus.”

  Hostilius smiled triumphantly. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  We all stared at him, dumbfounded.

  It turned out he was right, or almost right, yet we did not realise how deep the treachery lay.

  Chapter 33 – Enaree

  Apart from the strange behaviour of the Carpiani king, together with Hostilius’s elaborate theory, there was another, more pressing problem to address.

  “We need to slow down the advance of the Roma
n armies or they will fall on our rear while the wagons cross the river. Give me your thoughts so I can discuss them with the Gothic kings.” Bradakos sat back, waiting for us to respond.

  “Keep it simple”, Hostilius suggested. “We divide the Scythian horse warriors into two warbands of three and a half thousand each. Each warband will attack a Roman force. The Romans will end up forming the testudo so we won’t kill many, but we will buy enough time for the wagons to cross the ford. Ostrogotha and Kniva can send a message to their puppet Tarbus to harry the Roman force pursuing the Carpiani.”

  He drank from his cup. “Simple, eh?”

  In my own mind I was working on an elaborate plan to slow down the advancing Roman armies, but there was something else that had to be done, so I said: “I like your plan, Primus Pilus, but I would like to suggest that we make two small changes.”

  Before he could reply, I added: “Firstly, I request that the king excuse us from this mission.” A frown creased Hostilius’s face and I continued. “That includes you, Primus Pilus.”

  “Secondly, I would like to borrow Gordas and his men.”

  * * *

  The Carpiani had arrived in Roman lands with five thousand warriors. No more than three and a half thousand remained. Tarbus cared little for the lives of his men.

  I lay on my stomach at the edge of the treeline of a copse overlooking the Carpiani camp. Gordas and Hostilius lay next to me. Marcus, Vibius and Cai were further back, keeping an eye on the horses.

  We watched as Tarbus left the camp at the head of a warband I estimated to number three thousand.

  Ostrogotha sent Tarbus a message, requesting him to harass and slow down the Roman army approaching from the west along the Danube. As the Carpiani owed fealty to the Goths, he was expected to comply.

  I earlier discussed my plan with Ostrogotha in private, seeking permission from the Gothic king. “I have met the shaman of the Carpiani king. He is a snake, Eochar. For the sake of honour, I hope you succeed.” Then he added with a grin: “There is one condition, though. I demand to be told the tale on your return.”

  In any event, we patiently waited until a quarter of a watch had passed. Then we stealthily retrieved the horses and joined the rest of the Hun warband which was concealed in a nearby valley.

  With the king gone, my companions and I confidently rode at the head of five hundred Urugundi, heading for the camp of the Carpiani.

  Not long after we were intercepted by a patrol. Their leader, a lesser noble and oathsworn of Tarbus, called Ziaka, eyed us suspiciously.

  I assumed he knew our faces. “Welcome to the camp of the Carpiani, my lords”, he said smoothly.

  I nodded. “We have come to speak with king Tarbus, Ziaka. I gestured towards Cai, who wore his face of stone. A renowned healer from the lands of Serica accompany us. He has volunteered his services to the king.”

  A confused expression settled on the face of the Carpiani warrior, exactly as I had planned.

  “Lead the way, Ziaka”, I said and kicked my horse past him, followed closely by the five hundred Huns.

  Ziaka fell in beside me. “Lord, the king is not in camp”, he said, an edge of panic discernible in his voice.

  “Do not concern yourself, Ziaka, I will visit with my friend, Lord Thiaper.”

  Ziaka was aware of my reputation. He tried to persuade me to abandon the visit to my friend, without offending me, of course. I ignored his words.

  He briefly glanced at Gordas and Hostilius, hoping to find support. On witnessing the dour expressions carried by the great Roman and Hun lords, he rode at my side in silence, having accepted the inevitable.

  “Tell me about the healer who is tending to the needs of Lord Thiaper”, I said.

  “Decaeneus is a powerful shaman, an enaree, lord. His name means, ‘the one who knows’”.

  Allow me to digress. Many generations ago, it is said, Scythians pillaged the temple of the goddess Agrimpasa, the one the Greeks call Aphrodite. The goddess bestowed on these transgressors the power of divination, but commanded that they would for all eternity be women, trapped inside the bodies of men. These men were known as enarees.

  “Good, then he will be expecting us”, I said, adding to Ziaka’s confusion.

  As was the custom, I left the Hun warband outside the Carpiani camp.

  I dismounted and strode confidently into the tented camp. Hostilius, Marcus and Cai followed. Ziaka all but ran to catch up with us.

  The warriors who remained were tasked with striking camp and escorting the wagons. They were focused on the task, paying us no heed.

  Our guide slowed down as we neared the centre of the camp. He stopped, too fearful to approach, and pointed to a large tent ten paces away. “It is the tent of the enaree, lord.” He swallowed. “Decaeneus will not look kindly upon this unannounced intrusion.”

  “Do not be concerned, Ziaka. Wait here”, I ordered.

  Hostilius and I entered the tent, while Marcus and Cai remained outside, guarding the door.

  I opened the flap and thick white smoke escaped from within. It was the familiar fumes associated with the burning of hemp seeds, used by kings and shamans. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, I noticed the enaree sitting crossed-legged on an old bear fur in the centre of the tent. His eyes were closed while he swayed to and fro, chanting indiscernible words. The feathers of some bird were knotted into his near black hair, eerily contrasting his white painted face. My attention was drawn to his hands, which he held in front of his body. Strands of tree bark were braided around his fingers, assisting him in his dreamwork.

  I had grown up with the Scythians, and suddenly found that I was reluctant to interrupt the enaree, who was obviously deep in shamanic trance.

  Hostilius had no such qualms. “Hey, you”, he shouted.

  The shaman stood, his eyes still closed, and untangled the bark from between his fingers. I heard a low moan emanate from the far side of the tent and saw the prone body of my friend.

  Thiaper’s hands were bound, as were his feet. Rage welled up from deep inside my stomach. The enaree opened his eyes. “Who dares disturb the servant of Agrimpasa?” he screeched in a high-pitched voice, so typical of his sect. “You are cursed for all eternity”, he continued, and came at me with a dagger.

  My main concern was not to kill him instantly, as that would complicate the situation. I blocked the blow from the small poisoned blade with my left arm. The metal strips of my vambrace numbed his arm, the blade clattering onto the smoke-stones. My right hand remained open as it struck his neck at the base of the skull. The little shaman collapsed at my feet.

  I called out to Cai, who entered the tent.

  While Cai was tending to Thiaper, we sat the shaman upright. Hostilius poured liquid, which we erroneously assumed to be water, over his head and his eyes flickered open.

  I sat down in front of the man and Hostilius joined me. “Decaeneus, do you know that the Carpiani is bound to the Goths?” He nodded, a smirk on his face.

  Hostilius played with the little dagger, which made the brutish Roman appear even more menacing. The shaman’s eyes flicked to the blade every few heartbeats.

  “The king of the Goths owes me a favour, Decaeneus, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

  He still looked at me defiantly. “Ostrogotha the Patient will ask his vassal, King Tarbus, to send you to the Greuthungi. To assist with divinations, of course.” The little man lost his smirk.

  “There, Decaeneus, you will be my guest.”

  Cai said from the back of the tent, speaking in Scythian: “Thiaper not good. Maybe too late to save.”

  I gripped the dirty skins of the enaree and drew him towards me, nearly onto the blade Hostilius was still playing with. “I have seen the Urugundi keep a man alive for ten days after removing his lower jaw. They have to use fire every day, else the victim bleeds out.”

  Decaeneus was coming around to our cause, I believed.

  “You will tell king Tarbus that king Ostrogotha has se
nt for Thiaper. Tell him that you have given Thiaper poison and that he will surely die. Weave a convincing tale and you might just stay alive. Else, the king of the Goths will send for you.”

  The shaman nodded, realising that he had no choice.

  I added: “Divine your own future, enaree. Then you will see in the bark that Eochar the Merciless does not make empty threats.”

  Cai wrapped Thiaper in a cloak. Hostilius was as strong as an ox, throwing the bulky Carpiani over his shoulder as if he were a child.

  We ducked out of the tent, coming face to face with Ziaka. “The enaree has given your lord over into the care of the man from Serica. It has been foretold by the gods.” He nodded in wide-eyed reverence, and briskly led us from the camp.

  * * *

  I have often wondered whether our actions on that day contributed to what would come to pass. There is no way to know. My only consolation is that all, in the end, was the will of Arash.

  Chapter 34 – Crossing (October 245 AD)

  We harassed the Roman legions for two more days, until all the Gothic wagons had crossed the ford in the river. Most of the Roxolani warriors had only a handful of arrows left in their quivers when they eventually ascended the northern bank of the Danube.

  The nearest Roman army was a day’s march behind, but still there was no sign of the Carpiani.

  “Their tardiness will cost them their lives”, Bradakos said. He stared across to the southern bank, shielding his eyes with his hand.

  “They will be here within a third of a watch”, I said. “The scouts have confirmed it.”

  Bradakos was not done. “They are tardy because of their greed. They have loaded all their wagons with loot. When a wheel comes off or an axle breaks, they repair it and the whole army is held up. The Goths have many spare wagons. They have mastered their greed. It is as it should be.”

  “How is Thiaper?” he asked.

  “His wounds are red and angry and he has the burning sickness. Cai has little hope.”