Ducarius’ eyes flashed and his smile was frosty.
“The price we pay tomorrow may be steep, but it will be worth it.”
Chapter 21
The night stretched from tree crowned ridge to tree crowned ridge. Stars blazed across the throat of darkness, bleeding their light into the waters of the lake. For a moment, a breeze lifted from the west and the sound of the enemy exchanging banter as they cooked their evening meals grew loud.
Caros paced at the edge of the firelight, watching as warriors trod past, here and there, spluttering torches held high to light their way.
Beaugissa sighed and rose from beside the fire as it consumed the last of the splintered wood. She came to stand beside Caros and watch the shadow river of spears and shields pass.
“We will be fortunate to defeat the Romans, Caros. You know this and so does Hannibal.” Caros hitched his shoulder and rolled his neck. Crusted sweat and dust rasped his skin beneath the armour. “They are hungry and weary. Too many cough and suffer from weeping sores. Even Hannibal is ill… his eye.”
Caros turned to her, taking her shoulders in his hands, his face close to hers.
“You are right. This fight is not yours. Stay with Larth tomorrow, Beaugissa.” He tasted her breath on his lips and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close so that her forehead pressed into his neck. In return, she reached up and placed her hands under his ears, clutching him tight. The sweetness of her lips drew Caros from his senses. Their shades entwined and lifted into the night as two fiery embers. Below them, a thousand torches and a shadow army marched north, away from the lake.
Drawing apart, Caros looked into Beaugissa’s eyes to see her fierce pride straining through her tears.
“The time for our love is surely close. For that reason I must fight beside you, Caros. My shield to protect you, my spear to kill for you.”
He thumbed a tear from its trembling perch on her eyelid and smiled gently.
“This battle will be fiercer than any we have fought before. I will be at your side throughout.”
Drumming hooves interrupted their second kiss and a heartbeat later a Gaul cantered into the center of the Boii camp, shield hung across his back and lance set upright at his knee.
“Gather your weapons and packs. You will follow me.”
Beaugissa’s eyes shone in the feeble light of the stars. Slowly her fingers loosened their grip on his neck and then she bent to collect her spear and shield. He touched his neck where his skin still burned from the warmth of her hand and sent a silent plea to the gods to shield her.
Rappo and Neugen appeared with the horses trailing and their armour belted on. Neugen handed Caros the reins of his mount.
“If ever there is a day I want to pass swiftly, it is the one approaching.”
Maleric shuffled into view from the shadows, pulling his braccae into place and tying the belt at his waist.
“Yet it will go all the more slowly. Especially once we get close enough to put our knees in the Latin’s sacks.” He grinned at Neugen and rapped on his helmet. “You ready to stick that ugly sword of yours in their guts?”
Neugen looked at Beaugissa and gestured at Maleric with his thumb.
“Looks like that long day has already started. May I fight at your shoulder instead?”
Rappo, holding Beaugissa’s shield and spear so she could mount, laughed.
“There will be no battle; the Romans have no cavalry. What army has no cavalry?”
Ust’s voice rose over the low growl of men who wanted nothing more than to sleep off the largest meal they had eaten since early spring. Men began moving.
Caros pulled himself onto the horse and settled, shield at his knee and spear across his lap.
“The Romans did not have much cavalry at Cissa and they won that battle, Rappo. They will fight today. Hannibal will force a battle.”
Men were moving faster now, a rhythm established. Marching in the dark was no easy thing, especially with no moon and into the darkness beneath the trees of unfamiliar hills.
Caros clicked his tongue and walked his mount forward, closing with Beaugissa who settled onto her horse and took her weapons from Rappo. She rode beside him, close enough that he could smell her and see the curve of her lips against the pale outline of her face.
They crossed the ground where the army had camped briefly to cook and eat, the stink of spilled blood from slaughtered beasts and the countless latrines was pungent. On either flank of their column marched others. Most grumbled and cursed. A few boasted in lively voices of their past deeds and their future glory. Some chanted or sang clan songs in strange tongues.
Caros breathed deeply, the resinous scent of pine trees growing stronger. He reached out and placed his hand on Beaugissa’s forearm. She said nothing and instead slipped her arm out from under his hand and took it in her own.
Maleric scoffed at Rappo who continued to argue that an army needed cavalry.
Neugen maintained that no army needed Gauls.
“Think about it. We had to come all the way from Iberia to show the Gauls how to fight.” Neugen saw Maleric turn his way and Beaugissa smiled at him over her shoulder. “See, all this time the Gauls were going into battle with a cup of ale in one hand and a shield in the other.” Caros had slowed his horse and was also listening. The sudden attention caused Neugen to pause and squint at his companions suspiciously for a heartbeat. “Hard to kill Romans with just a shield and when everything you see is blurred.” He snorted and waited for Maleric’s retort which was a bigger grin than ever.
Sensing a presence, Neugen looked to his side and into the eyes of Ust. The Gaul, on foot, reached to Neugen’s shoulder.
“You want to show me how to kill Latins? I know where to find plenty.”
Neugen rocked back on his horse and fumbled his spear. Catching it with a curse, he righted himself and gave Ust a tight smile.
“Ah! I am sure I could teach you much. For instance, my first lesson.” He paused to wink at Maleric. “My first lesson is fight in daylight and sleep when it is dark.”
Ust weighed the advice.
“You will show me when the sun rises.” He laid one brawny hand on Neugen’s shoulder and squeezed. “I will be close.”
Neugen did well not to gasp and clutch his shoulder when Ust released his grip.
“Close. Yes, killing Romans.”
The Gaul motioned to Caros.
“There, that fire is ours. We are not climbing the hillside after all.” They had not even moved three stade and Caros furrowed his brow in puzzlement. Ust coughed and spat a gob of phlegm into the dark. “Hannibal changed his mind. What am I to tell you?”
Neugen smiled warily.
“At least we will not have rocks and tree roots to caress us to sleep.”
Ust glared at him.
“Do what you want till morning, but no sharpening your blades. There are men who wish to sleep soundly before the battle.” He slapped his sword hilt and shook the scabbard. “The Insubres are to our right.” He pointed to the west. “If you sleep, sleep lightly.”
“If Hannibal has altered his plan, will there still be a battle tomorrow?”
Ust growled with irritation and threw his hands up.
“Last I heard, we were going to defeat the Romans, take Flaminius and sell the bastards into slavery.” He bared his teeth, daring any of them to ask him another question before spinning on his heel and stalking off to the campfire.
The stink of shit hung in the air and Caros dismounted, placing his feet warily.
“Something has changed. We wait half the night to move into the hills and then travel just spitting distance before halting.”
As the others dismounted, Rappo and Neugen tied the horses one to the other and hobbled their forelegs. All around them, warriors of the Boii were cursing their lot as they unfurled blankets and furs and lay down in the dark.
Maleric paced around the group, peering in all directions.
Noticing, Beaugissa
jerked her chin at him.
“What do you see?”
Neugen stacked their spears and shields between them, within easy reach.
“Yes, you are pacing like a dog who has smelled a bitch. Or is it ale you smell?”
Maleric stopped dead still, the whites of his eyes shining under the rim of his helmet.
Caros facing north, answered by pointing to their left and right.
“Neugen, look where we are.” His voice rasped with anger. “Do you see?”
Beaugissa took his arm and Neugen cursed.
“The hills surround us.”
Rappo turned and pointed south to where the lake seethed dark in the night.
“Except for the south. There is the small sea.”
Maleric tilted his head back and laughed, earning vulgar comments from their neighbors.
“Yes, the lake lies to the south and tomorrow the Romans will come from there.”
Caros gestured in disgust at the hills.
“Trapping us against the hills. If our lines break, we will be slaughtered.” He rubbed his face. “That may be Hannibal’s hope. That the army fights with the ferocity of a corned beast.”
Beaugissa still holding his arm, leaned against him and shivered.
“The night is thickening with mist as it does over rivers.”
Caros wrapped an arm around her and together they sank to the ground.
“Take my cloak and sleep. I will remain awake and watch.”
Neugen threw his blanket, still warm from his mount, at Caros.
“You sleep. I will stay awake. I prefer not to sleep surrounded by stranger’s turds.” He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and leaned against his horse.
Night still lay heavy on the land when Caros was woken by a sharp kick to his foot.
He cursed and tried to roll upright. Beaugissa lay on his arm and he woke her as he pulled it free.
Rappo knelt at his feet, his pony standing over him gazing at him and Beaugissa.
“Caros, the army is waking. I saw Maharbal pass with Carthaginian knights and they spoke to Ust.”
Caros stared at Rappo and blinked. His cloak was damp and the air was murky with a haze that was not smoke. To the east there was a suggestion of dawn, but as yet night still ruled. Warriors cursed, pissed and snored all around them. He stood and turned in a circle, taking in the thick fog that now lay across the army.
“This fog will not lift till long after sunrise.”
Beaugissa sat up, her hair tousled and in her face.
“Listen to how it deadens the sounds of the army. It is like the fog we travelled through onboard Zantalius’ galley.”
Hurric appeared at that moment, his armour beaded with droplets of dew.
“Caros, come with me. All the leading men have orders.” The others rose to follow, but Hurric gestured impatiently at them. “Stay here and make no noise nor light a fire or you will suffer the bite of Ust’s whip.”
Hurric quickly circled through sleeping warriors, collecting the leading men and refusing to answer any questions.
With a score of disgruntled graybeards and champions at his back, Hurric hurried through the lightening night to where Ust waited.
A graybeard strode past Hurric’s shoulder and raised his spear along with his voice.
“Give us some good news, Ust! Do we fight?”
Ust snarled at him, slapping his hand down on the man’s spear.
“Keep your voice down!” He glared at the rest of the men including Caros. “We have been sent a gift.” He kept his voice low. “We were supposed to take to the hills beneath the forest. That proved impossible in the dark.” Men grunted knowingly. “This fog is thick my brothers. Thick enough to hide us as well as the trees, but we need to be silent.”
A bare-chested Gaul spoke softly from the gloom.
“The silence of a mouse or the silence of a lynx? Which is it, Ust?”
The whites of Ust’s eyes glinted and the pale halo of his hair bobbed.
“The hunter, cousin. Today we are all hunters. Go back to your kin and tell them to lay down with their heads facing south. When the moment is right and hairy Latins sacks are bouncing before us, we will strike.”
The hair on Caros’ arms lifted and shivers of battle joy breezed up his ribs. The fog would hide them better than the trees and such an attack could smash the enemy legion in one charge.
The men around him wore vicious grins, their eyes glowing with their need to avenge all the defeats suffered by their people.
“On what signal do we rise from the fog to strike?”
Ust drew his sword slowly from its scabbard, wary even of the hiss of metal over lambswool.
“You attack when I do. I will attack when the Insubres charge. The Insubres will charge when Hannibal signals them to.” He wiped the blade and settled it back in the scabbard. “Go back and tell your kin to put down their spears and shields. Listen.” From nearby came the sound of a man emptying his bladder. Another coughed, hawked and spat. From further afield came whispered arguments and the frantic groans of lovemaking. The sounds of an army unmasked.
“Hear all that? The Latins may be short and ugly, but their ears work as well as yours and mine. Go now and tell your warriors to hold their tongues and cease their clamoring. It is our time of vengeance.” The lovemakers climaxed with exultant sighs and Caros found himself thinking of Beaugissa. One wit proclaimed, “As good a way to start a fight as any.”
Caros found his way back to the others while around him the sounds of the army drifted away, subsiding to the low whispers of men he could reach out and touch.
The others waited for him in a tight circle and from their stilled voices, he concluded that the orders had already begun circulating. Pulling them into a huddle, he told them of the orders.
Maleric snorted dismissively.
“Madness. Even now there is enough noise to alert the Romans who already know we are here.”
Beaugissa winced, unhappy to agree with Maleric so early in the day.
“He is right. Even if we were all asleep, the Romans would hear us.”
Caros gave them a slow grin and winked.
“You are right. I thought about that as I returned and I think I know how to fool the Romans.”
Hannibal was no easier to find than he had been the previous night. Caros and Beaugissa jogged in a wide arc from west to east along the base of the hills, seeking him or any of his inner circle of commanders. Circling south towards the road that skirted the lake shore, they were forced to halt as a column of Masulian horsemen, numbering in the thousands, trotted their mounts away to the north of the fog shrouded plains.
Nearby, an Iberian spearman cursed the lack of a fire and received a blow to his helmeted head that rang out as loudly as his complaint. Caros and Beaugissa exchanged worried glances. Just one such exchange would turn an unsuspecting Roman marching column into a rank of shields and spears. The brief, noisy exchange had attracted attention and someone asked quietly what the spearman’s name was.
Caros clutched Beaugissa’s elbow.
“That is Hannibal.”
Pushing through a circle of Iberian warriors sharing out crusts, shriveled olives and brown cheese, he made for the murmur of voices. Behind him, Beaugissa was left to placate the men, some of whom had dropped their bread in surprise at Caros’ sudden appearance among them.
Hannibal was flanked by two imposing Libyan warriors who stared down their noses at the sheepish looking Iberians. The flush of shame that the men were Bastetani was overridden by his relief at finding the army commander.
Hannibal was addressing a graybeard who stood at the front of a group of hard-bitten warriors.
“You have come so far with me you proud men of the Bastetani. Today your spears will help to deliver another bold victory.”
Beaugissa caught up to Caros who had slowed to listen to Hannibal’s words and scowled at him.
“You have me to thank for not getting a spear in your ri
bs.”
Caros flashed a distracted grin at her and pointed at Hannibal who turned to the warriors standing with the Bastetani graybeard.
“It is a damp, cold morning.” He grinned at the men who smiled back and stood a little taller. “A fire would be perfect for warming our hands and who does not enjoy hot bread?” The talk of food got vigorous nods from the ever hungry warriors. Hannibal pointed to the east. “If you listen, you can hear the Romans farting as they stir their porridge. Would you trade places?”
The Bastetani warriors in their threadbare tunics and boots of cracked leather stuffed with straw, shuffled uncomfortably as though being accused.
Hannibal turned to take in the warriors crowding in from all sides, eager to see and hear their commander at spitting distance.
“I would not. No, for that porridge will be the last warm food their bellies take before you gut the Latin bastards.”
Warriors laughed aloud, forgetting the command to keep silent and Caros shook his head while Hannibal himself winced. The graybeard choked back his cheer and spun about, gesturing desperately to his warriors to shut their mouths.
Caros pushed closer, catching the attention of one of the Libyan warriors who, with a grunted warning to Hannibal, turned to face him, sword drawn and shield raised. Hannibal drew his blade as well and peered into the dense fog.
Caros showed his empty palms.
“It is I, Caros. I wish to share a tale of a ship’s captain.”
The Libyan remained poised to attack while behind him Hannibal sheathed his sword.
“Caros. You have decided to join your people’s ranks?”
“I came seeking you, my General.”
“Greetings, Beaugissa. Tell me, is Caros’ tale of a ship’s captain worth hearing?”
Beaugissa craned her neck to peer around the Libyan.
“If I had to choose, I would prefer to hear more tales that ended with Romans lying cold and lifeless. That may be because I was onboard the galley and so know the outcome of Caros’ tale.”
Howl of Blades Page 24