On the third day the landscape began to change with oddly shaped outcrops rearing up from the rough terrain.
“This is a strange land. Some great sorcery must have been used here to tear up the ground and paint it such colors.”
Maleric sat his horse at the foot of a hill which tapered upwards like a half used candle. Sweat beaded his forehead and his skin was waxy.
Beaugissa rode up beside him, her thigh brushing his. He swayed lightly and tried to grin at her, but his eyes remained dull. Placing two fingers between her lips, she let loose a piercing whistle. The others halted and turned back swiftly. By the time they arrived, Maleric had toppled senseless from his mount and Beaugissa had dragged him beneath a low hanging tree for the shade if afforded.
“His skin is like fire. Has anyone seen him binding any wounds?”
The men stared at her. Maleric’s battle with the giant had left him cut and bruised in a dozen or more places. She shook her head and muttered under her breath.
“Rappo, help me undress him. We must find and seal any wounds or the shades that live among these tortured hills will enter his body.”
Caros slid from his horse and handed the reins to Neugen. They would not be travelling anywhere now and Beaugissa would want a fire. He pulled an axe from the pack on his spare horse just as she began ordering them to find firewood. Neugen caught his eye and stifled a grin.
Fire built and horses tethered, he watched as Beaugissa mixed clay and spittle to daub on every wound the Gaul carried. Rappo used the cherry hot tip of a burning twig to coax ticks out of the senseless man’s thick skin.
“There must be half a dozen of the creatures on him. I wonder why he lets them grow so fat?” Neugen laughed as Rappo popped one that was bloated with blood. “I am going up that hill to keep watch till sundown. I will whistle if I see anything.”
Caros stacked one last pile of wood beside the fire and sat on a boulder to sharpen the axe.
“This is strange country. What people live here?”
“I have heard tales of it. Some say it is cursed and others that there are healing powers in the earth crust here. Who can tell what is true?”
Beaugissa placed a hand beneath Maleric’s shoulder and frowned.
“There is something in his shoulder. Help me roll him over.”
With Rappo’s help they turned him onto his side, exposing the wound beneath his shoulder blade. Beaugissa rubbed it with her finger and just that gentle touch caused Maleric to groan.
“There is a sliver of wood under his skin and it poisons his blood.”
Caros leaned closer and winced at the blackened swelling the length of his longest finger.
‘Rappo drew his short knife and without hesitation, ran it down the length of the splinter, releasing a gush of buttery yellow pus and dark blood. He slid the tip of the blade beneath the rough splinter and lifted it. Pinching the piece of wood between her fingers, Beaugissa drew it from the wound.
“How did he not know that was in his flesh?”
Caros considered the mass of welts and bruises on Maleric’s back.
“Look how many blows he took. He probably thought it was just one more injury.”
By the following morning, Maleric was recovered enough to ride and the short respite had improved Neugen’s strength as well. They continued east, passing through a land riven by gorges, strangely twisted hills and a dazzling expanse of flatlands so dry the salty ground crunched underfoot.
In the sky, numerous pairs of vultures spun and circled, diving in spirals at the ground only to rise up on their white-on-black wings. There were also a surprising number of foxes slinking like half-seen shades at the corners their eyes. When Caros remarked on the foxes, Rappo had a ready explanation.
“The foxes have come to feast on the birds’ eggs and chicks.”
In twelve days they crossed the land to the eastern coast, bartering where necessary for additional supplies and always wary of who might be following them. Sighting the coast, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
“There she is. The Inland Sea.”
Caros looked fondly at the blue expanse. He had taken short trips on Greek and Carthaginian galleys, accompanying his father who had known many of the captains.
“Now we find a nice sturdy galley with a competent captain and sail the rest of the way.”
Neugen sounded less than enthusiastic.
Maleric and Beaugissa both looked uncomfortable at the idea. Rappo had voyaged from Africa to Iberia onboard a galley laden with desert warriors and horses. He was looking forward to another sea voyage and smiled widely.
“We must find one that will take onboard our mounts or at least one mount each.”
His thighs tightened on his pony and he stroked her neck fondly.
“Without a doubt. No use arriving in Italia and not being able to reach Hannibal because we have no mounts.” Out of habit, Caros checked over his shoulder. On more than one occasion he had seen horsemen, but Berenger and his warriors had not appeared. Now that they had arrived in the north east, there were other enemies to guard against.
“We may see Romans soon. Remember, we are travelling to the land of the Andosinni by way of Empúries.”
“I still do not see why we should travel to the one port we know the Romans definitely occupy.” Maleric leaned sideways to break wind and Beaugissa cursed his ancestors. “It is like having a forest before you and deciding to take a nap under the one tree the leopard watches from.”
On the coastal road they mingled with the regular assortment of travelers; trading caravans, farm wagons, herdsmen driving cattle, sheep and strings of horses, and people walking from one town to the next to visit kin. This was Lacetani land and most of the travelers were those people. There were also Romans and these were not mere travelers, but columns of cavalry or long lines of marching legionaries. The first they encountered were north of Cissa where the Romans had defeated Hanno a year earlier.
They shared a morning meal with a caravan of traders and farmers and after breaking camp, set off for Empúries. Mid-way into the morning, Rappo riding three stade ahead, spotted a fast moving column of riders and gave his warning whistle.
“We knew this would happen. Quickly, off with your swords.”
Caros unbuckled his sword and gathering the sheathed blades from the others in the crook of his arm, slid from his mount and ducked off the road. A swarm of flies floated up from the stringy remains of a rotting fox. He grinned at the putrid stench. Wrapping the swords in his cloak, he set the bundle under a thorn bush beside the carcass. The drumming of hooves and jingle of harness rings grew louder with every breath. Glad the cloak was travel worn, he kicked dirt over it, muting the faded coloring further.
A Roman command rose above the hoofbeats and the column slowed. Caros loosened the buckle that held his tunic tight around his waist and with one hand hooked in the belt, sauntered onto the road where his companions sat rigid.
The Roman cavalry were fifty paces from them and coming on steadily.
“Lead your horses off the road.”
Caros ordered his companions who quickly complied, making way for the Romans. He hoped they would pass by, but clenched his fist tight when their leader tugged on his reins and gestured to his troop to halt.
His eyes were hard to see under the gleaming helmet topped with a transverse horsehair crest, but Caros caught the glint they held.
“What business do you have on the road?”
Caros had to work to remain casual despite the sheer arrogance in the Roman’s tone. The man had at least chosen to use common Greek rather than Latin.
“We are traveling to a wedding.”
“Where is this wedding and is this not the wrong season?”
Caros blinked. The Romans had seasons for weddings?
“It is in a village of the Andosinni north of Empúries.”
The Roman spoke in Latin to the rider at his shoulder who turned and barked orders to the others. Immediately, the R
omans circled Caros and his companions, dust from their many hooves thick in the still air. Two more rode off the road among the low bushes and grass, casting around suspiciously. One of them rode close to the rotten fox and a cloud of blowflies engulfed him.
“Show me the wedding gifts.”
The Roman stared at each rider and his eyes widened as he looked upon Beaugissa. Licking his oily lips, he pressed a hand to his groin and grinned. Caros felt his ancestors’ breath in his ear. This was a fight he would begin without hope of winning.
“We have no gifts. This maiden here is the bride. A virgin to be married to the king of the Andosinni.”
The Roman’s smile was replaced by a scowl. Taking a common woman might earn him the enmity of her kin, but taking the bride of a king, even of a small Iberian kingdom, might earn him the ire of his superior officers.
Caros went on quickly, giving their names. “We have come far from our home in the land of the Vascon. It will be good to see Empúries.”
The Roman’s eyes still lingered hungrily on Beaugissa who stared straight ahead, face unmoving. Caros studied the Roman’s features carefully, impressing in his memory the prominent nose, small close-set eyes and thin eyebrows. If he lived through the next few heartbeats and there ever came a day when he met this Roman in battle, he would kill him with glee.
The Roman glared suddenly at Caros, as though divining his murderous thoughts.
“Caros. The name is familiar. You say you have travelled north from where? The land of the Bastetani?”
“East from the land of the Vascon. A land of rich crops, plentiful grazing and the finest ale.”
The Roman spat at Caros, his spittle striking his broad chest.
“Ale, dirt and dogs. That is all you Iberians know.” He glared at Beaugissa for a heartbeat before raking his mounts flanks with his heavy boots and setting off south, his troop following and almost every one spitting on the companions as they passed.
Caros stood silently, letting the dust settle. The others sat still on their mounts, their eyes on the backs of the Roman cavalry.
“Only seventy of the bastards. I say we should have killed them.” Maleric wiped spittle from his forehead and sniffed it.
“What the… ? Why are you sniffing it?”
Beaugissa’s voice was tight with strain.
“Someone once told me Roman gob smelled like olives.”
“And?”
Maleric sniffed his forearm again and squinted.
“What do olives smell like?”
Chapter 17
Empúries had gone from being a sleepy trade harbor to a garrisoned port town. The arrival of twenty thousand Roman legionaries had created a market for all manner of goods and services the region was unused to providing. So, while the roads were quiet, the port heaved with incoming galleys and jetties swayed beneath the weight of cargo. The shore quickly became a place every bit as lethal as a battlefield.
Caros led his mount around a stack of dead men, their skin mottled and sagging, orbless eye sockets gaping. Flotsam lined the shore and women and children scrambled to find any piece that could earn them a copper bit.
A scream of outrage was the prelude to a shrieking brawl as two women tore into one another over a sack of waterlogged and moldy produce.
Neugen grimaced as his foot sank into something that smelled hideous.
“There are more galleys here than people in Tagilit.”
“The trick is choosing one that will not leave us lying sightless on a filthy beach or worse.” Caros gestured to where sailors worked in a chain to unload a galley that had floundered in the breakers. “Not every ship has the fortune to sink so close to the shore. Many are dashed against rocks in storms.” Seeing the look on his companions’ faces, he snapped his mouth shut.
“How about a ship like that one? It does not look a mere rock would sink it.”
Maleric strode to the edge of the waves to watch the strikingly proportioned vessel slice through the water, white bow waves erupting from its path.
“That is a Roman warship and I expect they would welcome you to the rowing benches.”
“Good choice.” Neugen drawled dryly. “There! That one has its sail up. The leading man looks like he knows what he is about.”
They watched the vessel scudding over the water, spray billowing aloft behind it. Other vessels scrambled out of its path and even the Roman warship was forced to put on a burst of speed to make clear water between it and the galley.
Rappo wore a puzzled expression.
“Why are the men hacking the ropes with blades, Caros?”
“Yes, they look like they are at war with their own vessel.”
A wrinkled and ropey man limping past with a sack of rotten netting heard and sniggered. His sniggering turned to wet coughing and he let the sack fall. Regaining his breath he pointed at the ship.
“The ropes have knotted and they cannot get the sail down. The wind has her now so unless they chop the ropes…” He clapped his hands and made a phfft sound through his gums. Maleric gave Neugen an arch look.
“Good choice.”
“That vessel looks ideal. We should speak to its captain.”
Beaugissa pointed out a fat-bellied galley sidling up to an already crowded jetty.
“It looks like a sow about to drop a litter.”
Neugen turned pale the moment the words left his mouth and stepped deftly out of Beaugissa’s reach.
Spitting pink gob onto the sand, the scavenger lifted his sack and grinned.
“The bitch has a good eye for a boat. If you are looking for a safe journey that one will do.”
The companions exchanged glances as the scavenger limped away. “Do you know the captain’s name?” Caros called after the man.
“Who do I look like? Poseidon?”
Maleric frowned and sunk a finger into his ear to scratch.
“Well, we should go speak with Poseidon. You ask him gently for passage and I will glower at him so he does not ask too high a price.”
Caros looked hard at Maleric.
“Beyond teaching you to drink, kill and rut, your peoples’ elders did not teach you much did they?”
Neugen grinned and Rappo’s eyes grew round. Beaugissa sighed and crossed her arms.
Maleric blinked in confusion, reached for his other ear, changed his mind and opted to pick his nose instead.
“Oh, they also taught us to stay out of deep water. Yet here I am.”
“Poseidon is the god of the sea. Upset him and he will reach up and drag you and the vessel you are on down to the seabed.”
Maleric examined his finger.
“I should possibly make a sacrifice to him then to be sure he did not take offence.” He pointed at the distant scavenger. “Would that do?”
A pall of dust marked the horse yards and Caros led the companions off the beach to the tents of the herdsmen.
Here Ilerget vied with Greek who sought to outbid Gaul in buying horses to supply the Roman army.
Caros was close to haggling a fair price for their five remounts with a Greek when Neugen elbowed him.
“I see Brocchus and unless I am mistaken, he is still looking for mounts.”
Caros grinned at the Greek cockily.
“Sure you will not offer me twenty staters apiece?”
“If they were all white, yes and still have a few coppers left to feed my poor family.” He shook his bald pate ruefully. “All the rich Latins think they will be invincible on whites.”
Caros turned and hailed Brocchus who threaded his way through a scattering of dusty riders, grooms and buyers, mute Zerbero in tow.
There followed an enthusiastic greeting which saw Brocchus clasping his forearm and pounding his shoulder until dust rose from his tunic.
“You ended up here in Empúries after all.” Caros laughed. “My friend, Marc was not able to find you horses?”
“Not a mule. The Carthaginians have bought every horse in the land. Much like these bastard
Latin fellows are doing up here.”
Caros waved at the mounts Rappo held close.
“The gods are smiling on you then!”
“They are?” He made a point of looking about him owl-eyed. “Because I find myself stranded amidst a sea of thieves.”
Caros guided Brocchus out of earshot of the curious Greek buyer. “How much are they asking?” He gestured to the horse sellers.
“Twenty-five staters for anything with three legs. If it has four legs and whinnies like a horse, they demand thirty!”
“I have these five I would sell. Every one of them of sound hoof and lung.”
Brocchus nodded to Rappo.
“Selling horses to the Romans now are we?” He peeled the lips from the teeth of a horse.
“We will take them all back once we have driven the Latins out of here. You can take all five for a hundred staters.”
Brocchus examined their hooves and slapped their hides, making them prance.
“Who carries that much silver? I can give you forty staters now. The rest I can send to you. I heard what happened in Tagilit. Where shall I send the rest?”
Caros sighed. Selling to Brocchus would have made him feel better, but he needed a full hundred staters to buy passage to Italia for him and the others plus the five mounts they would keep.
“Perhaps the gods are elsewhere. I need every piece in silver now. We are crossing to Italia.”
Neugen, less than sure of travelling by ship after seeing the wrecks and drowned bodies, snorted.
“If we can find a ship captained by a man who knows how to keep it afloat.”
Brocchus snapped his fingers, a toothy grin appearing.
“I have an offer you will jump at!”
Zantalius gripped Caros’ forearm tightly, years of pulling oars, wrestling tillers and climbing ropes had turned his muscles to iron.
“Brocchus says you know how to use a blade.” He looked past Caros at the others.
“We all do. Sword and spear.”
The captain nodded slowly, evidently coming to that conclusion.
Howl of Blades Page 19