Howl of Blades

by J Glenn Bauer

After removing the spear and plugging the wound with chewed willow bark and clay, Beaugissa had ridden with the pain-wracked Insubres warrior pressed against her back.

  Waves of pounding cavalry passed them; Iberians followed by Masulians.

  “The Romans are close.” A Masulian rider had veered from his fellows. “Why are you so far behind?” The whites of his eyes were red with fatigue.

  Rappo greeted him in his native tongue and explained.

  “The Romans have few horse, but I would not dawdle if I were you.” The rider turned his pony and streaked away south.

  Pushing their mounts, they reached the warriors that guarded the rear of the army; dark-skinned Libyan spearmen and slingers. They were skirmishers; lightly armored so able to move fast to counter raids. Next, they passed wide-eyed camp followers and straggling warriors weak with the hacking cough that seemed rife.

  Rappo pointed.

  “The army is turning east. Look!”

  Hannibal was taking his army around the southern horn of the hills that shaded their eastern flank.

  Ahead, horsemen shared a loaf of bread at the side of the road while in the shade of a tree a band of warriors took their ease.

  Caros was surprised to see that the horsemen were Carthaginians. One brushed crumbs from his curled beard and urged his horse onto the road in front of Rappo.

  “Why are you here at the rear of the army?”

  Rappo dipped his chin.

  “Greetings, may Tanit bless you.” The youth made use of the formal greeting used by Carthaginians. “We have an injured warrior of the Insubres.”

  The Carthaginian’s companions wolfed down the last of the bread and joined him.

  Caros greeted them formally.

  “We seek the Insubres.” He pointed at Larth slumped against Beaugissa. “He is one of theirs.”

  “You are an Iberian, but you travel with a Masulian and a Gaul?”

  “Yes, together we have sailed and ridden far to find Hannibal. Seems we are just in time too, with the Romans right behind us.” He turned his horse to watch as the Carthaginians circled the group suspiciously. “The Insubres warrior is the brother of Ducarius. Would you know if his kin are near?”

  The Carthaginian gave him a surprised look.

  “The Insubres, Ducarius?

  “Yes. He spent the night with a Roman lance in his back. Tough bastard.”

  The Carthaginians clustered around Beaugissa or as near as they could with Maleric and Neugen keeping their mounts knee to knee with hers.

  “You will find the Insubres at the lake. If he is truly the brother of Ducarius, he will reward you well.”

  “Lake?”

  “Where the road turns east. It runs along the north shore of a lake the Etruscans call Trasimene. The cavalry will be watering their mounts.”

  Caros whistled to his horse and pushed her through the Carthaginian horses to reach Beaugissa.

  “He is heavy. Rappo can take a turn riding with him.”

  “I am fine as long as his kin are not too distant. Otherwise we can set him on one of Ust’s empty wagons and let them come collect him.”

  Caros led her horse away from the Carthaginians whose eyes stayed fixed on Beaugissa. He glanced across at the warriors under the tree. They were talking in a huddle and had not noticed him or his companions.

  To Caros left, the slopes of the ridge swept down towards the road. To his right, the northwestern shore of the lake hosted Hannibal’s cavalry.

  “There are thousands of horse there! Tens of thousands!” Neugen’s eyes bulged. “After Tagus I never thought I would see such a sight again.”

  “Stop here. The horses need water.”

  Beaugissa nodded.

  “Yes, by the gods. Take him down.”

  Slipping from his mount, Caros joined Maleric in lowering Larth to the ground where they set him on his stomach.

  Beaugissa, her face red with exertion and heat from the wounded man, sent her mount racing for the waters of the lake.

  Rappo looked at Maleric.

  “There are few women warriors here and I do not like the way the men in this army look at her. We should follow.”

  “You are not wrong.” Maleric took the reins of the mounts. “We will water them and pass the word around that we have this warrior.”

  Caros untied Larth’s armour from his mount and dropped it next to the warrior who groaned.

  “We will do the same here. Fill our waterskins as well.”

  “Find a spring. The lake water will be more mud and horseshit than water.”

  Maleric laughed and rode off with Rappo leaving Caros to wrinkle his nose and shake his almost empty waterskin.

  “How much do you have?”

  Neugen laughed.

  “You did not fill yours at the spring did you?”

  “I was busy helping our friend here.”

  Neugen threw his waterskin to Caros.

  “Hannibal will not pardon you until after the battle will he?” Neugen loosened his helmet and dropped it to the ground. “I fought for him at Sagunt. You did too, Caros. He will make shades of all of us to secure victory.”

  Caros recalled the stink of burning flesh rising from the rubble of Sagunt and swallowed.

  “True, but here we are. The Romans are not our friends and I will fight them if that is what it takes to get Hannibal to restore my honor. Our honor.”

  Neugen flung himself to the ground.

  “You think Hannibal can defeat the Romans again?”

  “Look around. See there!” Caros thrust his spear in the direction of a throng of a thousand pale-skinned warriors dressed in braccae and armed with an assortment of pitiful looking implements. “Scatterlings from the mountains bending to the will of Hannibal.” He sought out more warriors marching along the road as it curled between the ridge and the lake shore. “There! A maniple of Greeks versed in war and sought after by every king who desires victory. Yet they have chosen to fight here.” He heard hoof beats and saw a column of riders. “Who rides there? Three hundred wealthy warriors and all following Hannibal’s dream.”

  They watched the column of Gauls, sun glinting from polished helmets and sharpened spears, thick cloaks floating at their shoulders, gallop along the shore.

  “True to his name, the Barca will bring these warriors down on the Romans like a thunderbolt.”

  Larth stirred and rolled onto his side. He dry-retched and drew his knees under him.

  “Lay still. I have water here.”

  “While you are talking so, you watched my people ride by.” The Insubres warrior, arms folded under his ribs and bent forward, gestured with his chin to the column of Gauls now seeking a sturdy bank along the water’s edge.

  “The gods!” Caros leapt to his feet and gave Larth a sheepish look. “I will go fetch them.”

  “No need. Beaugissa has seen them.”

  A party of Gauls turned and streamed their way, led by a rider with a mane of hair styled with white clay. He ignored Caros and leaping from his mount, ran the last steps to Larth.

  “Brother! You are wounded!” He dropped to his knees, hands hovering, uncertain where to clasp his kin.

  “Yet I live. My companions were not so fortunate.” Larth pointed a trembling hand at Caros. “This warrior and his fellows found me. You have him to reward.”

  The Gaul turned to Caros and rose to his feet in a single fluid motion.

  “You have done me a great service.” He looked Caros over appraisingly, eyeing the Vascon armour, the broader than usual sheath needed to accommodate the falcata, and the vivid scar on his head. “I am Ducarius of the Insubres.”

  “Caros of the Bastetani. Greetings Ducarius, I have heard men speak of your fearlessness in battle.”

  A glint of amusement appeared in the Gaul’s eye for a heartbeat. He waved a hand to his riders.

  “Go empty one of the wagons and bring it back here. Hurry now, the Romans will not be far off.”

  Caros too was aware of th
e camp followers and rearguard of Hannibal’s army passing them.

  “We have an empty wagon. Several in fact.” He looked past the ring of riders to Maleric. “Speak with Ust. See if he will send a wagon.”

  Ducarius threw back his head and laughed into the blue sky.

  “Ust! Ust of the Boii? Tell that old bastard I will replace his wagon with one piled with all manner of Etruscan riches including amphorae of wine.” Maleric nodded and he and Rappo rode north, to where the army would be circling for the night. “Caros, thank you.” Ducarius gestured at Larth. “You must come feast with us tonight. We have wine and meat aplenty.” His riders whooped in agreement.

  “It would be our pleasure.” Caros laughed, enjoying the boisterous comradeship the Insubres warriors displayed.

  The sun was lowering when Maleric and Rappo returned with the wagon and Ust along with several leading Boii warriors.

  They greeted Ducarius with vulgar names, wide smiles and plenty of backslapping.

  Beaugissa grinned at the display as she and Caros helped Larth onto the bed of the wagon, settling him on hastily cut summer grass and leafy boughs.

  “See how Ust smiles? It is because he knows there will be a feast tonight and hopes to be invited.” Larth nodded while gritting his teeth. “If there is to be battle tomorrow, then those who fight should slack their appetites as though this was their last night.” He gave Caros and Beaugissa a shrewd look that caused their cheeks to flush.

  The army was settled at the foot of the range of tree-covered hills that rose five stade from the lakes northern shore. Riding into the circled army, Caros saw at once the mood of the warriors was heightened and frenzied. Goats, bulls and even horses were being sacrificed to a plethora of gods. Blood drained by priests, their carcasses were then set over heaped coals to roast.

  Warriors worked feverishly to straighten blades, stitch boots and pad armour.

  Graybeards spoke loudly to their kin, thrusting spears into the gathering night. Priests daubed blood on men’s lips and promised them glory or death.

  The Insubres were on the northwest perimeter of the army, a ridge of hills ringing them from west to east. Their camp was curtained by oily smoke rising from the cooking pits on which roasted a dozen bullocks and many more goats and swine.

  Maleric smacked his lips in anticipation and Neugen’s eyes beamed. It had been a long while since they had spent a night feasting. Caros grinned at Beaugissa who pressed her lips tight and rode her mount close enough that her knee brushed his.

  Rappo whooped at riders competing to plant their lances in a shield swinging from the bough of a tree.

  Ducarius laughed at the Masulian.

  “Tomorrow they will bathe their spears in the blood of the hated Romans. Tonight they boast their skills.”

  A rider thrust his spear at the shield which bounced away with just a shallow score mark. Insubres riders hooted at their companion and underscored their hoots with insults.

  Rappo gave Ducarius a bright grin.

  “That Roman will live to put a blade in the rider’s ribs.”

  With a shrill whoop, he set his pony galloping past the startled riders still jeering their companion.

  Beaugissa sat straighter, tensing with concern. Caros placed his hand on her fist and smiled.

  Ducarius glanced at Caros and grinned.

  “Those spears of his are little more than arrows.”

  Rappo, his knees braced high on his mount’s withers, hurled two spears from twenty paces as his pony raced towards the dangling shield. Both spears struck, burying deep in the layered hide and wood with a resounding crack.

  Still ululating, Rappo threw the third spear in his hand, severing the cord holding the shield.

  Shocked silence descended on the Insubres while Ducarius eyes grew round before his lips split into a wide grin.

  A clapping of palm on leather signaled praise from another source and Caros turned to see Hannibal and Maharbal looking on. Hannibal ceased clapping and shook his head at Caros.

  “I might have known you would find a way to join with the best warriors in the army. In just a single day too!” Hannibal leaned towards Ducarius. “You were not present with the rest of my commanders.”

  Ducarius’ easy camaraderie disappeared with Hannibal’s arrival, surprising Caros.

  “What of it? The Romans are slavering like hounds after a bitch in season and we flee.”

  Maharbal’s eyes blazed and he rode his mount into Ducarius’, jutting his square jaw belligerently.

  “We have an opportunity to bleed the Romans dry. Open your ears to Hannibal’s words and Flaminius can be yours, Ducarius.”

  “You marched us through land poisoned by shades who have caused my people to sicken and die.” Ducarius pushed past Maharbal to square up to Hannibal. “For this I hold you responsible.”

  Hannibal seemed barely to notice the angry Gaul, his gaze taking in the high ground looming large over the army. After looking back through the smoke towards the lake over which flocks of waterfowl circled, he touched a hand to the fluid that leaked from his swollen eye.

  “There is not a thing I would ask of your warriors that I would not offer myself.” He looked curiously at Beaugissa for a moment and then smiled brightly. “How quickly could your riders break from hiding in the forests above and reach the lake?”

  Ducarius continued to glower at Hannibal for a dozen angry heartbeats before relenting.

  “We could be kicking spray from the shore before a man could pull on both boots.”

  Hannibal closed his one good eye and breathed deeply.

  “Good. That is very good.” He opened his eye and smiled at Maharbal who grinned back in the half light. Turning to the Gallic champion Hannibal asked, “Your brother, Larth? I hear he suffered a wound, how is he?”

  “He will die in a day or two or he will recover.”

  “May I see him?”

  Ducarius led him to where the wagon stood. Four warriors were erecting a canopy over the bed of the wagon.

  “Brother, are you asleep? Hannibal and Maharbal have come.”

  Larth raised an arm and let it fall.

  “I am awake.”

  Hannibal peered into the wagon.

  “May Tanit lay her healing hand on you, Larth of the Insubres.” A warrior lit a torch, rolled the flaming end to even the burn and held it aloft. “I will lay an offering on her shrine this night. Tomorrow we will give to Baʿal the blood of ten thousand Romans.”

  The wounded Insubres raised himself on an elbow and blinked through bloodshot eyes at Hannibal.

  “Then you will need the Insubres to ensure your victory. Give to Ducarius the center of the field, Hannibal of Carthage.” Hannibal smiled thinly and inclined his head slowly. Larth licked his lips and lowered his body with a nod. “Fight well, brothers. I have my own battle to win.”

  Hannibal and Maharbal stood beside Ducarius and his leading warriors, their faces lit by the leaping flames of a large fire while they chewed on bloody meat hacked from a bullock. Wooden bowls of fine Etruscan wine made the rounds, staining their lips purple.

  Ust stood with Caros and his companions, their jaws working as they chewed.

  “The Insubres do not seem fond of Hannibal?”

  Ust grunted and spat a wad of gristle into the fire.

  “Offer them honeyed ale and they will spit it in your face. They prefer taking.”

  “They will fight though?

  Ust turned to Caros, his eyes creased against the smoke.

  “They hate the Romans as much as any Boii. They especially despise Flaminius, the Roman who led the armies which sacked their city and despoiled every virgin in it.” The Gaul looked at Maleric who stood with Rappo. “I keep thinking I know him.” He shrugged. “Of all the Romans to lead the army following us, the gods fated Flaminius to lead it. Hannibal does not have enough gold to match that prize.”

  Caros drained the last of his wine and threw the leaking bowl into the flames.

>   Hannibal rose and crossed to him.

  “It makes me happy to see you here, Caros. A champion among many.” He smiled at Beaugissa. “Will you also fight?”

  The hard lines in her face eased and she allowed a smile.

  “I have been sharpening for battle with the Romans since before Cissa Hannibal Barca.”

  Hannibal’s weary face brightened and his chin lifted. Brushing a hand through his tousled hair, he laughed.

  “Then keep your blade sharp for just one more night. Baʿal tells me this is a good place to make ten thousand widows.” His eyes hardened and he gripped the edge of his bronze cuirass tightly.

  The words reminded Caros of the curse Beaugissa had laid on the Latin shrine, making his skin crawl. He cleared his throat, but again Beaugissa lifted her helmet and shook her head so that the firelight painted her hair red and gold.

  “Ten thousand widows. Ten thousand grieving mothers. Ten thousand fatherless sons.” She waved her helmet above her head and the Gauls nearby paused their drinking to watch. “Cut down by a howl of blades! A howl of blades that thirst for the blood of Rome itself!” Her face was a mask of cold ferociousness that caused Hannibal to tilt his head and regard her anew. She lowered her helmet and loosened the grip on her sword hilt.

  The circled warriors were watching Hannibal for his reaction and he smiled as broadly as his swollen face would allow.

  “Tomorrow your enemy and mine, Flaminius, will set his legions on us.” The warriors crowded closer, some growling, others drumming helmets and armour with the hilts of their short knives. Hannibal spread his arms. “Their limbs are strong! Their swords are keen! It is true, but you Gauls! You Insubres! You Boii! You of the Ligurians!” He struck his chest with a fist. “In your chest beats the heart of a champion and like the champions you are, you will crush the legionaries of Rome!”

  The warriors let lose their roars before laughing and jostling one another. Ducarius stepped nearer, his face flushed from the fire, the meat and the ale in his belly.

  “Our warriors have begun to move. By morning all will be in position.”

  Hannibal tilted his head back to search the dark skies for the first stars.

  “Then all that is left is to watch for the right time to strike.” The Carthaginian general turned to Ducarius. “Every scout has said the same. Flaminius rides at the center of his army. He is yours.”