Piercing the clouds like a jagged blade of ice and rock, the Gaur Mons dwarfed the surrounding mountains. The tallest peak in the Arctos Mountains, it was an ideal choice of ground to repel an attack. Any army movements for miles around would be seen from the lookouts on its heights.
Several hundred feet up, the mountain’s treacherous slopes flattened into a large plateau before continuing their reach for the heavens. It was on this plateau that the Evastii made their encampment.
Before the camp, mounted on spiked banners, the heads of local villagers were skewered as gruesome clan trophies. They truly are barbaric, Corvinus thought. Such tribesmen could never have once been brothers. They stood against every notion of honour for which the men of Arcem fought.
A feeling of disgust settled in his gut as he looked on – a sentiment Corvinus had not felt since his previous campaigning in the north. Back then he was in the ranks of his father’s legion, fulfilling his military service, but now he was here as its commander.
Judging from the number of banners on the mountainside, Corvinus knew a great many Evastii warlords must have followed their king on this venture and that meant there would be some hard fighting to come before the end.
‘Any estimates?’ asked Corvinus of his staff.
‘Current observations put the Evastii at a force of thirty thousand fighting men sir,’ answered Hector Valko, First Centurion of the Third Legion. ‘Of course, with their encampment up on the plateau none of our scouts have been able to progress up the slopes. They shall have to wait for the cover of nightfall to establish exact numbers.’
‘So many,’ Corvinus muttered. Though Arcem often found itself outnumbered against its enemies and still prevailed in the field, the figures were still daunting. By those odds every Valerii legionary would have to cut down at least three enemy soldiers. It was sure to be a test of Arcemite discipline and fortitude.
‘If you are caught for ideas, military theory would usually recommend sending a legion emissary to negotiate right about now to try avoid bloodshed,’ said Fulvio snidely. The conceited aristocrat still felt cheated of his opportunity for overall command and the march from Ultor had done little to ease the tribune’s resentment of the young general.
Corvinus knew Fulvio was just waiting for him to slip up so he had an excuse to assume command. Corvinus vowed by the gods he would not give him one.
‘Thank you, Tribune. I am well aware of the wisdom in the Chronicles but I am sure we can both agree that given the enemy we face, attempts at negotiation would be rather pointless,’ said Corvinus. ‘Had it been the Oirthir, Daonii, Thrysans or any other people on Tumultus I would give such orders, but not with the northern tribes. Of course, you can volunteer to lead the diplomatic talks, perhaps the Evastii have changed since our last encounter.’
Fulvio looked away towards the mountain, as if suddenly disinterested.
The Evastii had attempted a similar incursion into Arcem during a summer almost a decade before. The Senate sent a group of emissaries with gold to try and dissuade the barbarian raiders, only for the enemy king to send back a cart full of their headless bodies. After a series of indecisive skirmishes, the tribesmen were eventually defeated on the fields before the city of Cras – with much credit owed to Corvinus’ father in the battle. Their king however had been fortunate enough to escape across the Tymero River with his retinue.
‘From their numbers at least, it seems Ariogaisus has learnt from his last campaign, the old wolf,’ said Valko. ‘Before was but a minor incursion compared to the number of warlords he has gathered now. This is an army of conquest.’
‘No matter, we shall put them to steel soon enough,’ said Tribune Bantius with a confident smile.
Corvinus stared at his legion’s second in command, his private contempt for the man hidden behind a smile. Although at times he could be just as stubborn as Fulvio when it came to taking orders, Fulvio at least had a skill for leadership, whereas Bantius seemed to lack any understanding of things military.
Corvinus was thankful at least that relations with Bantius were slowly improving since Ultor. The tribune’s aristocratic nature fortunately had an advantage to it after all – ambition. Bantius seemed to have realised the significant victory it would be if they managed to defeat the Evastii, and he had become extremely motivated ever since. With General Horatius and the legion from Emissus yet to arrive, his slice of glory could be all the larger.
‘We shall have these barbarians fleeing back home to the wretched wasteland after the first charge,’ Bantius laughed. ‘The first charge, you mark my words, and this rabble will break. We’ll send them to the halls of Khronus, eh? There they can tell the blood god what Arcemite steel tastes like.’
Corvinus grimaced slightly at the man’s folly and wondered if he actually believed his own words. Having fought the northern tribes before, Corvinus knew they were not as simple as the news-heralds in Monarx described.
Even Tribune Fulvio and the First Centurion looked away briefly to save themselves acknowledging Bantius; they too were clearly growing annoyed at the man’s over eagerness.
‘So when do we attack?’ Bantius continued.
‘Once we have established camp, then we shall consider how best to proceed,’ answered Corvinus.
Bantius turned to look over the snowy plains before the mountain, where the legionnaires were setting up base for the night after the day’s march. Two legions; close to ten thousand men worked before them, digging into the frozen earth to form the perimeter trenches and felling nearby trees for the palisade. Already the outline of the camp had taken form, by the time the sun went down completely a ring of defences as solid as any town’s would surround them. If the Evastii attempted any night raid they would find themselves hard pressed.
Corvinus watched the remarkable transformation of the land with a great sense of pride for his country. Though the legions were tired and the cold made movement sluggish, the process was so familiar to the men that their experience would still see the job finished with a speed that put other nations to shame. What would take other armies an entire day to build, Arcemite legions could do in a few hours. By nightfall the legion carpenters and engineers would raise a miniature city, where before there had been nothing but snow-covered fields.
‘Any more word from General Horatius?’ asked Bantius.
‘Nothing yet,’ said Valko. ‘We sent a rider this morning but I shouldn’t expect the Tenth Legion to be here for a few days. The roads will be worse coming from the north with the snows here.’
‘Apparently General Horatius was so enraged the Evastii had evaded his fortifications that he vented his anger on his legion, in a ruthless training regime to amend the stain to their honour. They say a dozen of his men died before he even left Tarqus,’ said Corvinus.
‘General Horatius is known for such harsh leadership,’ said Valko, shaking his head sadly.
‘You should know better than to listen to the camp talk of common soldiers,’ said Fulvio, ‘they can be little better than gossiping wives at times.’
‘That may be so and I’m sure the figure is drastically overstated, but the loss of even one legionary would be a callous act for such a thing,’ said Corvinus.
‘The Tenth Legion had a duty to safeguard the northern approaches and they failed in that,’ said Fulvio. ‘General Horatius was right to dispense discipline.’
‘You think the fatality of good soldiers is an appropriate tool for leadership?’ asked Corvinus. ‘Those men were not deserters or drunkards, they just happened to be garrisoning a city their enemy was smart enough to avoid.’
‘I think weak-willed leaders are the main obstacle to Arcem attaining its rightful place in the world,’ said Fulvio.
Corvinus could not agree more with Fulvio’s words, though the tribune’s intention was entirely opposite.
‘What of the legion from Emissus?’ Bantius interrupted, sensing the tension in the air.
‘First Centurion Eliphas Fallax of the
Seventh Legion sent word of delays, at their current pace they will not be arriving for several days also,’ said Corvinus.
‘Why is that?’ asked Bantius. ‘I was under the impression the western highways are spared much of the winter snows? What could be holding them from joining the field?’
‘Refugees,’ answered Corvinus. ‘Every farmer along the north-eastern fringe has gone west to the safety of the coastal cities like Emissus and Cras. Eliphas reported roadways clogged with families fleeing the Evastii invaders.’
‘Trust the plebs to do something like that,’ said Bantius. ‘We build the damn roads for miles and the commoners use them all well and good, but they fail to remember precedence when the legions require their swiftness. It is a complete lack of respect if you ask me. Fleeing their homes... men of Arcem do not flee; we stand tall against our enemies, they are only barbarians after all.’
‘Tell that to them,’ said Corvinus, gesturing to the spikes on the mountainside. ‘I bet those citizens did not think the barbarian capable of much either, yet here they are, on our side of the mountains.’
***
‘Identify yourself, citizen,’ said the Pontifex Maximus as he stepped out from the shadows of the great statue of Taranis.
‘Gaius of the Valerii, named Corvus by the people,’ said the consul as he stood before the temple’s central altar.
The hallowed chamber was empty of any other worshippers, its sacred space reserved from the commoners that filled the outer halls. Only Arcem’s elite were permitted access to pray within. They were however, not alone. Behind the Pontifex, several hooded figures of the temple priestesses went about tending to the lesser shrines around the room. Consecrating incense swirled through the air where they walked, filling the room with a strong fragrance as it trailed up to the heavens. They went about their observances with piety and the sound of their chanting made the chamber buzz with an atmosphere of complete sanctity.
‘You are known to the Chronicles and Almighty Taranis both,’ said the Pontifex. ‘What brings you to this holy place?
‘I come to honour the gods and earn their favour,’ said Gaius. ‘I wish auguries to be taken for the success of the Third Legion and that of the Fourth.’
‘I can assure you Taranis watches over all Arcem’s armies with His blessings. The College of Pontiffs entreats Him daily to make this so,’ said the Pontifex. ‘For what reason do you name these two legions alone?’
‘They are the legions of my name, those of my own command and of my son,’ said Gaius, ‘I pray for their good fortune and that the blessings sworn upon my son in this very place not long ago may hold true in his leadership.’
‘I see,’ said the Pontifex, ‘as the almighty creator, Taranis is like a father too and cares for all His noble sons, however it grieves me to say your voice may be harder for Him to hear at this time.’
‘What do you mean? I observe the words of the Chronicles faithfully in all things, why would my prayers now not be heard?’
‘Despite the fact your requests are well intentioned, it is that you are here at all that is the dilemma. As consul you have been charged with a sacred duty, and in the eyes of the gods, you have not served: the defence of the realm,’ said the Pontifex. ‘Never before has Arcem faced a threat of such magnitude without its consuls at the command of its armies.’
‘Do you think I am here by choice?’ said Gaius. ‘The gods know I am a soldier and would not hide from any foe. I am here because the Senate has decreed it so. Elder Liberius-’
‘Elder Liberius required that you stay because he believed it necessary, as the keeper of our holy lore I know he could not have made such a decision lightly,’ the Pontifex said. ‘The Elder knows the histories and the gravity of his actions; the College of Pontiffs applauds his conviction, though in truth it does leave us in a difficult situation.’
‘This is insane,’ said Gaius, ‘I am sworn before the gods to serve the Senate but you say they shun me now for not marching with the legions, I cannot stay nor go without breaking one of my vows.’
‘If religion were easy there would be no test in life. The will of the gods is never so clear cut and I warn you now it would not be to your good fortune to continue voicing such malcontent in this sacred place.’
Gaius bowed his head at the great marble statue of Taranis behind the priest. ‘Apologies, I only seek your guidance,’ he said.
‘As with all things, the gods need something in return, a sacrifice to Taranis would do well. I should think one in your position would require a... sizeable offering to show your piety,’ said the Pontifex, his gaunt features creasing with a grin beneath his hood.
‘Of course, I have prepared as much,’ said Gaius. ‘Men and carts await me in the streets outside. I trust three-hundred thousand in gold will be enough coin to suffice the divine?’
The Pontifex took breath, appreciating the sum.
‘That would indeed be looked upon favourably by the gods,’ said the Pontifex, his face lighting up suddenly. ‘You may go today knowing the grace and good fortune of Almighty Taranis shall soon be upon your name citizen, for I shall personally perform the auguries and shall not rest until Taranis hears your prayers.’
Gaius bowed again to the altar and took his leave.
As he passed the priestesses and lesser shrines on the way out he met eyes with a familiar face.
‘Senator Aquila, salve,’ said Gaius as he drew near.
‘Greetings Consul,’ said the entering senator. Like Gaius, Aquila was wearing his toga. Though it was not as extravagant as the consul’s and lacked any particular coloured stripe of office, the man’s appearance was faultless. The pristine white cloth of his robes fitted his form with the presentation of a man utterly disciplined and respectful.
Aquila turned back to the shrine before him. ‘The Shrine of Janus,’ he said, lighting a small candle and placing it before the two-headed effigy of the deity. ‘As the god of new beginnings I find him an appropriate idol to receive our prayers now that we find ourselves on the eve of battle in such novel circumstances.’
‘Your piety is a credit to your name Senator,’ said Gaius, ‘I too am here for the success of our legions.’
‘Yes, I saw you before the altar of Taranis,’ said Aquila with a nuance that left Gaius wondering what to think of the man’s words. ‘Like the great sun in our sky, the divine shine so much brighter than us, but people in their awe can easily fail to see the other stars behind. Please do not misunderstand me, I think it is proper of you to honour Almighty Taranis, very decent indeed, for I have heard you even sold your house atop Septem Hill for your offering. I only hope that you don’t forget there are many gods and each requires their dues. After all, the gods can be as fickle as men in their moods and jealousy is not beyond them, particularly once they hear of your sacrifice today.’
Gaius shifted, slightly annoyed his private sale was already public knowledge. ‘This is but the first of many stops to the city’s temples-’ he said.
‘It only takes one slighted deity to ruin your day,’ interrupted Aquila.
‘Have no doubt Senator, I too am a religious man and always adhere to the wisdom of the priests in all my observances. I could not have survived as a soldier nor achieved my status as consul if I were not,’ said Gaius.
‘That is good to hear,’ said Aquila. ‘Few men nowadays take the time to do things right, the old-fashioned way. Though I have no sons of my own, I am confident the Republic shall prosper long after me when it has men of principle defending it. Did you know that is why I joined with your house? Not because you are consul, but because you have a good sense of loyalty that I think is quite pure in its rawness. Faith in the Chronicles must be well preserved among the commoners I suppose and that is good.’
‘Thank you for voicing your thoughts Senator, but I must be on my way,’ Gaius said. ‘As you can imagine there are many rites to be observed by a consul in times of war.’
‘Of course, Consul Valerius, I’ll le
t you be about your business,’ said Aquila. ‘I think I shall stay here for some time and pray.’
Gaius turned and began to walk, eager to leave this place of stringent old men and their meandering politics. But before he had even walked two steps, a lecturing voice called after him.
‘Do not forget the Temple of Khronus,’ Aquila said.
The consul turned, his annoyance rising.
‘The dark god?’ asked Gaius. ‘For what possible reason would I honour the lord of our enemies? I have no blood to offer or passage to barter with the underworld. In truth I am quite surprised that you would even mention his name in this sacred place, Senator.’
‘As you said Consul, he is gatekeeper of the underworld, but I dare say we cannot go to war without dealing with the dead,’ said Aquila. ‘I do not suggest to venerate the dark one, but appease him, be on good terms and with fortune watching, your son will not be among those to enter his gloomy halls.’
‘My son is no stranger to the field. Corvinus is an accomplished swordsman and a general no less, he isn’t going to get himself killed like some amateur conscript.’ Gaius said, barely masking his annoyance. For not the first time that day, he felt doubt creep into his mind. He knew well enough Corvinus was a good soldier, but he could also be headstrong, full of youthful confidence and impatience to succeed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to grant him such authority so soon. Gaius dearly hoped he would not prove reckless with his newfound command. Their carefully planned takeover had been frustrated enough by the Evastii incursion, he prayed that once that interruption been dealt with their legions would still be strong enough for the real fighting ahead.
‘My daughter has told me as much and I believe you both,’ said Aquila, ‘but as I said before, it only takes one god to ruin your day.’
***
In the moonlight of the first night, amidst the rows of tents and stores, cloaked figures walked the empty laneways of the Arcemite camp. They marched briskly due to the cold and made good pace with the lanes deserted. Besides those on watch, the cloaked men were the only ones out, all the other legionaries having long since retired to their beds. Cold and fatigued from the march, there were no songs, dicing or any of the usual fireside banter expected of an army on campaign.
The Ultimate Spoils (Tumultus Chronicles Book 1) Page 8