by Barry Sadler
Casca thought to himself, this is really dumb, but if that's what he wants, why not? Raising his face, he vowed, "I will, and gladly, my King, for as you know the gods of Rome have served me ill." Rasheed stood to the King's left, wearing ceremonial robes of deep green decorated with gold emblems of the sun set in geometric patterns, smiling as he had before. Casca wondered what the sour faced wretch found so damned amusing about the proceedings. After acknowledging his willingness to do sacrifice to the Sun, Casca was led by two Magi to the burning pyre. .
It was large enough to set two full grown steers inside it to be roasted. Following the wisemen's lead, he bowed three times as he approached and then knelt before the altar. A lamb had its throat cut and was given to him. This, Casca consigned to the flames, thankful it wasn't something worse. The despised Phoenicians, worshippers of Baal, gave their first born child to the flames to prove their loyalties. The lamb was accepted by the flames, as if it had any choice. Omens were read and forecasts given. All was expected to be favorable and Casca was given leave to rise.
Shapur came to him and embraced him before the mounted troops. Casca felt again a twinge of uneasiness. He liked, but also feared Shapur. The man was strong and wore the mantle of power about him easily. But Casca hadn't expected this aspect of the King, that he was also a religious fanatic. That could prove dangerous. For when anyone was too involved with gods, it spelled trouble for everyone else around him. No matter how smart the King might be, the gods would always have the last laugh.
Shapur escorted Casca back to his mount. "I am pleased that you have not been reluctant to give your oath, for I have need of you now and in the next week you will be given your first assignment. I will send for you. Go now."
Dismissed, Casca was relieved that the ceremony was all there was to the day's proceedings, and as. he rode off wondered what plans the king now had for him. The Vizier smiled and bowed to him in a most friendly manner. For some reason this disturbed Casca.
Casca spent the next few days keeping pretty much to himself, avoiding the desire to visit some of the gambling and wenching houses of which the city of Nev Shapur had an abundance. He still felt uneasy and decided that it would be better to keep away from anything that might possibly give an enemy anything to use against him.
CHAPTER FOUR
Another two weeks passed with Casca remaining in his self-enforced confinement. True, he had sent out from time to time for one or another of the famous Persian courtesans to visit him in his room, sloe eyed, dusky, warm blooded women who'd learned the art of pleasing men when they were still children. After all, he still had normal needs and they'd served to keep the edge off his temper.
He received notice of his departure in the form of a letter delivered by one of Shapur's guards, a member of the Immortals. Casca was not of this elite unit. Only those with pure Persian bloodlines, from noble families, were permitted to serve in their ranks. Even the messenger, who held the lowest rank in the Guards, was of an ancient and noble house that traced its lineage back over three hundred years. At Shapur's command any of these people would, without hesitation, drive their daggers into their hearts or into one of their own blood.
The Immortals were chosen as children and taken from their families when no older than ten. From that time on they were trained for one thing only, this being absolute obedience to the King of Kings.
The letter informed Casca to prepare himself to leave in two days and that before his departure he was to come to Shapur for a final pre-mission briefing in which the operation would be explained.
As ordered, Casca presented himself to the majordomo and was ushered without ceremony into Shapur's private quarters. Bowing low, Casca waited for permission to stand erect. Permission was soon given with an offhanded wave of Shapur's strong fingers.
"Well, Casca, are you ready for your first assignment?" There could be but one response to the question, yet it was still with a sense of uneasiness that Casca answered.
"Of course, Lord. I await your command. He slapped his sword hand to his breast in salute. Shapur nodded, playing at his beard with his fingers as was the habit of the Persian when deep in thought. A thin smile played at the corner of Shapur's eyes.
"When last we talked you told of a ruse used by a Chinese general a century or two ago while engaged in battle with the Hephalites. The memories of those savages are not long and I would see if the same plan could be used again."
Casca swallowed. “You mean the three thousand who.....?”
"Exactly!" Shapur smiled openly, showing strong white teeth. "When you return to your residence an escort will be waiting for you. He shall take you to join your army, which I dispatched a month ago to the frontiers of Sogdiana to serve as bait. From intelligence reports we know that the Hephalites are on the move to join us in battle. They know that if they can eliminate my army there it will free the entire countryside for their looting and pillaging for some weeks' time. But if you succeed and destroy them that will secure my frontiers in the north and east for at least a couple of years. I could then turn my attention to other pressing matters without being bothered excessively by large raiding parties."
Shapur paused for a moment, his eyes reflecting honesty.
"Serve me well in this matter, Casca, and you shall find that I know how to reward as well as to punish."
Shapur motioned with his hand down, shoving the fingers forward toward the exit. "You may leave!"
Casca bowed his way out of the royal chambers and returned to his dwelling to find that his gear had already been packed by the escort, his servants dismissed, and the house closed. All that he would require on his journey was methodically placed in packs on the back of the horses.
Casca grumbled to himself. "Shapur doesn't let any grass grow under the feet of anyone who works for him, that's for damned sure."
His escort was composed of ten men from a light cavalry detachment, expert archers all of them. During the journey they rode like the demons of Shaitan were on their tails, stopping only once each night for an hour's rest, changing mounts in relays six or seven times a day. By utilizing these means they'd covered over one hundred miles per day and on the evening of the third day had arrived at the valley of Bazhari, where his Persian host awaited Casca's arrival. They had not arrived too soon as far as he was concerned.
Passing sentries and checkpoints of security, they were admitted into the main camp, where Casca was guided to a large pavilion that was to serve as his headquarters. Word of his arrival had already reached his regimental commanders and they stood in two ranks, one to either side of the tent, at rigid attention.
Casca entered, stomping the dust from his boots and pounding his chest to rid it of the day's dirt. Sand clouds flew from him at every thump of his fist. He eyed the commanders. All had the look of tough men. Only two were under thirty years of age and even they had visible scars to show they were not novices to battle. But Casca could see in their eyes the retention of doubt about this foreigner who'd come to command them. That they would obey him, he had no doubt; Shapur's discipline was much too rigidly enforced for them to consider doing otherwise. Yes, they would obey. But they wouldn't like it worth a damn.
A field desk and chair were in position at the rear of the tent. Casca marched straight to them and seated himself after acknowledging the reluctant bowing of his subordinate commanders. Pouring a drink of water from a carafe, he washed the dust of the trail from his throat before speaking.
"Which one of you is the superior officer?"
A Persian with a slight Greek cast to his features stepped forward and bowed, his scaled armor rippling in the light of the oil lamps. His helmet was tucked under one arm, his hand to the hilt of a long straight sword. The gray in his hair and his hard dark eyes were enough to gain him notice in a grouping of soldiers.
"I am Indemeer, Commander of the Cataphracti." Casca was familiar with this unit Heavy Cavalry, whose horses as well as their riders were covered with heavy armor. The charge o
f the Cataphracti was hard to resist. The lances they used in battle were so heavy that the riders tied a rope near the center of it, attaching the other end to the necks of their steeds. Utilizing the strength of the animal to bear the weight of the lance, they would tuck the butt of the weapon into a leather socket at their hip, guiding the point of the lance with one hand while guiding the horse's movements with the other. Their helmets were of one piece that reached below the chin with only slits for eye holes in them. They were a fearsome offensive force when used properly, and next to the Immortals, the most favored of the Persian Hosts.
Casca acknowledged the ranking commander. "Welcome, Indemeer. I trust you're ready to give me a situation report?"
Indemeer nodded confidently. "But of course, Commander." Casca took another drink of water. "Then proceed! The rest of you be at ease and make yourself comfortable. If any of you have individual information to report, wait until after the general briefing, then we'll get down to any specifics pertaining to your troops." He indicated for Indemeer to begin his report.
The Persian snapped his fingers and one of his junior officers came forth, handing the old warrior two scrolls. He unrolled them and placed them side by side on the field table, pointing to the one facing Casca's left. It was, as Casca could readily see, a map of the immediate region. On it Indemeer had lined the disposition of the Persian forces in red and the Huns in black. Speaking softly, but with tones that came from years of command and self-assurance, Indemeer began his report.
"The savages are approaching from the north and east at a good rate of march. We have scouts out keeping up with them and each day their reports are sent to us in relays so that by now we should have their movements reported twice a day. At their current rate of march they should reach this point in two days' time." Indemeer indicated a large plain in the form of a valley. Casca stopped him with a nod of his head.
"Is the valley you're pointing at the one we're in now?"
Indemeer shook his head. "No! That one is one day's march from our present location."
Casca told him to continue.
"The savages number sixty thousand, who, as I am sure you know, are all mounted horsemen, each one of them an archer and most carrying light lances for close combat."
Casca responded to the light sarcasm in Indemeer's voice. "Yes, I know the Huns well and have probably had as much experience with them as anyone here. Now, get on to something I don't know!"
Indemeer accepted the rebuke. He'd just been testing to see if this stranger was able to handle command and assert the authority designated to him by Shapur. Before he could continue Casca asked him for the disposition and numbers of their own forces. Indemeer indicated the red lines depicting each of the encampments around them.
"We have twenty thousand warriors, of which five thousand are my own Heavy Chargers by order of the King, as sign of his favor." Again the touch of sarcasm, Casca choosing this time to ignore it. Indemeer continued: "The balance of our forces are comprised of ten thousand light cavalry, all expert archers, and five thousand infantry."
Casca scanned the map carefully, noting the terrain differences. "Have you thought of a place to engage the Huns?"
The officer pointed to a plain outside the valley two days distant. "Here is where we will meet the enemy, with the valley to our backs. We shall place our infantry in the center at the entrance to the valley and position our cavalry on each flank inside. When the Huns charge, our center will fall back, luring them inside, at which point our two strong flanks will charge down from the high ground where they've been concealed up to this time."
Casca thought this over for a moment. "What of the other five thousand the King said would be here, and why didn't you mention them in your report?"
Indemeer sucked at his lower lip. "I didn't feel they were worth mentioning, considering what they are."
Casca rose from his chair, addressing not only Indemeer, but all of the officers present.
"When I say give me a status report it is not for you to determine what to delete. I alone will be the judge as to what is or is not important and any of you who think otherwise will not live to see the morning sun. Is that clear?"
He barked out the last question and the officers responded to the authority in his voice. They saluted and as one voice they cried out, "It is clear, Commander!"
Casca sat back down. "Now, where are the five thousand the King sent?"
Now thoroughly chastened, Indemeer pointed to an area just outside their encampment.
"There, Lord. They are under guard and have so far presented us with no difficulties." Casca asked him if they'd been told of their purpose in being brought to this place of battle, and of what they were to do.
Indemeer replied that all had been carefully instructed in what was expected of them and what their fate would be if even one failed to obey.
"Good! You've done well. But..." Casca touched the valley on the map that Indemeer had previously indicated as the engagement area. "Here is not where we will meet the enemy. From what you've told me about the rate of march of the Huns, they should be camped at least twenty miles from the mouth of the valley by the time we take up positions. No, we are going to meet them here." He indicated another, more narrow valley less than half a day's march from where they were presently encamped. "Here is where we will meet them, and not at the front of the valley but at the end of it. We shall make them come to us."
Indemeer started to protest but stopped at Casca's upraised hand.
"It will be here! By the time they reach this place they will have ridden all day, their animals will be tired and so will the men, giving us just a little more in our favor, and Mithra ..." he paused and changed the god's name, after clearing his throat, "uh, Ahura mazda knows we'll need all the advantages we can get should anything go wrong. In addition, our troops will be fresh and if your map is correct, the narrow confines of this valley will reduce the number of men that the Huns will be able to amass on their front at the charge. Then... if we can stop them and hold them and throw their front rank into a panic, the rest of the Hun force will be compelled to back up behind them, creating congestion and confusion – confusion that we'll be able to use to our own good purpose. As to the exact disposition of our forces, I will wait until I have seen the site before I make that decision."
Indemeer sucked at his lower lip again, but this time when he spoke his voice contained tones of respect. This organized plan was better than his own and the wisdom of tiring the Huns out while their own forces remained fresh was obviously to their advantage.
"Do you have anything further, Lord?"
Casca spoke, standing now. "Introduce me to your officers. I will entertain input from each as to anything that may hinder us in our mission. I wish to know the condition of not only your men, but also the animals and the pack train. Is the morale good or bad? What do the troops grumble at other than having me as their new commander?"
The officers looked at each other. The foreigner was no fool and spoke bluntly. Their basic hostility toward him began to change to that of professional respect. Regardless of where their new commander had come from, it appeared that he knew his business and theirs. They would obey now without the reluctance they'd felt earlier. Their new leader was a true warrior.
The night dragged on to the early hours as each officer in turn was questioned in detail and asked to contribute ideas that would possibly modify the commander's basic plan. It was dawn before Casca dismissed the last of them. Indemeer had stayed with him throughout the interrogations, making sound comments and judgments, familiarizing Casca with various problems each unit had faced on their arrival, each unit's history in battle, and a thumbnail profile of the unit leaders histories and backgrounds. When they called it a night, both he and Casca felt they had put in a good day's work and were each more satisfied with the other as soldiers.
Two days and battle would be joined. Casca gave the order to break camp and move to the valley of his choice. The sooner
they arrived the more rested his men would be when the time came for battle. He decided not to visit the five thousand men sent to him by Shapur. Those he would save until just before the engagement. He was confident now, after listening to Indeemer, that things would be as he'd said. But still he'd check on them personally now and then until it was time for them to be used.
CHAPTER FIVE
Casca surveyed the Persian Host. Twenty thousand men, one quarter of their ranks from Shapur's own bodyguard, The Immortals, each especially selected and trained, every man richly equipped with the finest of blades and armor made of steel scales that rippled in the day's sunlight.
The infantry stood at ease, weapons to hand, waiting for the appearance of the Huns. Casca had chosen this ground and gave the order to wait. They would move no further. By waiting here it would force the enemy to come to them, forcing them to march through the worst heat of the day, and when they did meet, a portion of their vitality would have been sapped by the Persian sun that baked the rocks of this valley until they split and cracked from the constant heating and cooling. He signaled his trumpeter, who responded with two short blasts. Five thousand men advanced from the rear to stand in five ranks in front of the rest of the waiting army of select troops. Now they totaled twenty five thousand. These men were uniformed as the others, but carried no shields or spears; neither did they wear helmets of brass and iron.
Only the green tunics fringed with tassels identified them as members of the same force.
Rising, Casca removed his helmet and swung up into the saddle of his waiting horse, looking out over the five thousand. Filling his lungs, he called out to them.