Neugen kicked Maleric in the arse.
“Ho, no bleeding. Beaugissa’s orders.”
Maleric stepped back, his heel finding Neugen’s toes.
“As long as I can blow air out my arse without feeling your toenails, I will be a content man.”
About them, warriors talked in giddy fear at what would happen in the next moments. The clash of arms was growing louder. Voices began to emerge from the roar. Shouted commands in Latin, curses from Iberians and shrill war cries from Libyans.
They waited for that roar and clamor to engulf them. Blades and shields to bite at their flesh. Men to spit in their faces and shit in their sandals.
The naked warriors were pale silhouettes against a dark backdrop. A horseman appeared behind them and amongst the scattered slingers and light spearmen. He swerved around three men with a curse and then, eyes widening, looked more closely.
Caros exclaimed and pointed at the Roman cavalryman who had lost his way and found himself among their ranks. Skirmishers gaped at the Roman in shock. A fast-thinking Gallic warrior skipped from among his kin to drive his spear into the Roman’s thigh. With a grunt, he twisted it and unbalanced the Roman from his mount. Landing heavily, he was unable to scream before a half-dozen terrified warriors exorcised their fear by blooding their blades in his flesh. In the time it takes to nock an arrow, the Roman’s head appeared above them, mounted on a spear.
Chapter 23
The Roman column marched hard towards the sound of battle in the east. Riders raced down the line, conveying messages between the Consul and his legionaries.
Caros waited for the roar of victory from the Romans and the screams of defeat from the Bastetani and Libyans. Instead, the battle din grew louder as more Romans reached it.
The fog shifted to show a half-dozen Romans staggering back from the fight, bloody gashes in arms and legs. Those marching towards the fighting growled and quickened their pace.
Maleric spat on his thumb and ran it down the edge of his blade.
“Our lot are not making it easy for the Latins.”
“The fog is thinning. It will be our turn soon.”
Beaugissa smiled and hefted her spear.
“Why wait. We should strike now while they waddle like ducks on the shore.”
She was not the only warrior with that thought. Others were pushing forward, eager to strike at the enemy so close and end the waiting.
Caros pushed her spear down with his.
“Listen. Do you feel that?”
They stood silent, attention on the ground beneath their booted feet.
Neugen looked up, fear and excitement twisted together in his eyes.
“Horses. Many, many horses.”
Caros inhaled, slapped his helmet hard and clutched his spear.
“The Insubres and Masulians are moving.”
Nearby, Ust drew his sword and lifted it and his shield high. The Boii stilled like a great beast, tensed to spring on its unwary prey.
The rumbling tremor that was Hannibal’s vast cavalry, grew louder and as it did, the fog shredded to reveal their ranks bearing down on the marching Roman column.
Ust roared.
Naked warriors screamed.
Caros pulled Beaugissa closer while sidling nearer to Maleric.
“Stay together! Do not break away.”
The naked warriors were streaking forward while slingers and archers loosed their shot and arrows.
Horrified legionaries gaped at the enemy looming through the fog. While some marched on, many froze, creating gaps in their lines. Their centurions quickly began to roar at them, whipping men with the flats of their blades in an effort to form ranks.
Slingshot rattled into the column, denting helmets and snapping bones. Cries and curses rose as arrows began to plunge from the heavens. Everywhere, legionaries staggered, arrow fletchings standing proud from thighs and shoulders.
Caros ran. His shield held tight at his shoulder, his spear high so as not to impale the faster warriors ahead of him. The Romans were half a stade away, just a dozen heartbeats from his blade.
The gaps in their line closed just as the naked warriors reached it. Old veterans with seasons of warcraft, men seeking absolution and youths desperate for fame. They numbered ten score and ran hard at the Roman line, leaping the last paces. Striking with edged blades and the weight of their bodies, they sent many of the legionaries tumbling. With no armour, dozens were pierced through and never rose again. Others escaped injury and hacked with mad abandon at the reeling Romans, buying valuable moments for the mass of oncoming Boii.
Caros leapt a warrior who had sprawled over a spent Roman spear. Ahead, the first concerted rush of Boii warriors crashed into the Roman column, shattering it into a reef of islands fighting against a surging tide of blade-swinging warriors.
A Roman, wearing a helmet with a distinctive transverse crest, spat and snarled at his men, keeping them in a tight square of shields and blades.
Boii warriors howled and swung their swords at the Romans. The blades hacked harmlessly into shields and rebounded off the iron shafts of the Roman spears.
The legionaries fended the warriors off, exacting a steep price for already a dozen Boii were bleeding and several bodies lay at the feet of the Romans.
“There! We need to break their lines.”
Neugen spat on his spear and shook it at the sky.
“Runeovex! Guide my arm!”
Caros closed on the dense mass of legionaries, stepping between scattered corpses while seeking a weakness in the enemy line. Beaugissa barged into his back, sending him reeling, and stabbed her spear into the neck of a prone Roman whose sword was at Caros’ groin.
The Roman, his face already a bloody pulp from an earlier wound, arched his back and grabbed at the spear, his tongue bulging from his shattered mouth. Caros kicked the dying man in the head and pinned him to the ground so that Beaugissa could withdraw her spear.
Maleric rapped his sword on his shield.
“First kill to the Vascon!”
Beaugissa examined her spear to ensure the blade was still tightly fixed to the shaft before acknowledging Maleric with a cold smile.
Caros caught his breath, his groin tingling unpleasantly.
“Come! Those bastards need killing.”
Many of the Boii had swept passed the dense mass of Romans to fall upon smaller, less cohesive groups of the enemy. Those Gauls that remained were hard fighters and bent on avenging companions killed by these Romans.
Caros saw Ust among them. The leading man’s arms were blood spattered as was his chest and legs. Like the other Gauls, he charged with his shield at his chest and sword high, hacking down at the Romans when his shield struck theirs.
“The Roman wearing the crested helmet is holding them together.” The others grunted and advanced with him.
The legionaries saw them coming and shouted a warning to their centurion who cursed back.
“You afraid of women now, Gaius? They will walk into your sword like the rest of their lice-infested litter mates.”
Caros and Maleric advanced with Neugen and Beaugissa at their backs. Panting Boii warriors grinned at them through bloody teeth and cheered.
Seven paces from the Romans, sword-scored shields locked before them, dark eyes staring from between shield rim and helmet.
“Neugen?”
“I am ready.” Neugen caught Ust’s eye. “Now I will show you how it is done.”
Six paces, then three and the Roman to Caros’ right stepped towards him, unable to resist his unguarded chest.
Neugen punched his spear into the Roman’s eye, halting him while Caros and Maleric stepped into the gap, their shields ramming aside the surprised Romans to either side of their staggering companion. Beaugissa tracked her spear across the back of the wounded Roman’s knee, felling him. He found his voice and screamed once before Neugen opened his throat with the edge of the spearhead.
Caros held his place, Maleric’s back p
ressed to his while Beaugissa and Neugen joined them, their spears flashing at the Romans.
Sweat soaked the tunic under his armour as he wrestled to keep his shield up and stab at the Roman before him. The Boii warriors were whooping at the death of a legionary, not recognizing the opportunity to break the Roman formation Caros and Maleric had gifted them.
“Ust! There is a Roman here who wants that sword of yours in his gut!”
The centurion howled in anger and stormed towards them while legionaries formed a semi-circle about the four companions.
Maleric whooped and for a brief moment the pressure on Caros’ back eased. A Roman screamed and then Maleric was pressing against Caros again.
His falcata rang off the blade of the Roman facing him and the Latin lifted his head to spit at Caros.
Raking his boot down the legionary’s inner leg, he followed up by smashing his helmet into the man’s mouth. His head snapped back and Caros drove his sword into the man’s right elbow.
The Roman’s neighbor had his blade at Caros’ gut, trying to find a gap in the leather and bronze armour.
Ice cold fear coursed through Caros’ bones. The injured man was dragged away and another replaced him, battering Caros with his shield, his blade flicking at his eyes.
“Neugen! Your spear!”
Neugen’s spear hissed past Caros’ cheek guard. The Roman saw it coming and dipped his head to fend it off with his helmet.
Beaugissa ducked into Caros’ back, her shoulder at his hip, steadying him as Romans pounded their shields into him from two sides, recognizing the danger he and Maleric posed to their line.
“Their feet! Put your spear in their feet!”
She stilled, lining up her spear while he stabbed blindly over his shield. He felt no flesh tear and pulled his arm close when a Roman tried to bury his sword in his armpit.
Beaugissa struck. Caros felt her lunge, the spear slide past his knee. The eyes of the Roman on his left widened in shock as pain bloomed through his foot and up his leg.
Caros growled and shoved the man who went tumbling backwards, his left foot pierced through.
Ust and a handful of Boii warriors slammed into the Romans with renewed roars and feverishly hacking blades.
In the chaos, a legionary shifted his shield and Caros punched his sword into the man’s leg, opening the flesh to the bone which gleamed white before it was drowned in blood.
A blade licked close to his face. Bending his head, he hacked at it and was rewarded when it snapped in two.
Beaugissa moved to his side, jabbing her spear at the legionaries in the second rank, keeping them from helping their injured fellows.
With a roar, Caros surged at the wounded man’s shield, knocking him off balance. The Roman fell away from the safety of his companion’s shield and Caros struck, his falcata biting savagely through the man’s neck, dropping his severed head at his feet.
Beaugissa screeched her war cry and snatched the gory object from the ground. With blood still dribbling from his mouth, she flung his head high above the enemy so as it spun, his dead eyes stared down on them. It floated there for a horrifying heartbeat before dropping among the legionaries whose voices rose in dismay.
The centurion appeared before Caros, his face pale with fury. With a lunge too deft for Caros to block, he stabbed at Beaugissa who stood watching the Roman’s head drop from the sky.
Berenger and his men flowed through the rear ranks of Hannibal’s lines. The battle had spread. Warriors hurled themselves at the strung out Romans all along their line of march. In some pockets, the legionaries remained untouched. Others had been overrun and lay stacked as they had fallen.
Ibon ran beside Berenger, his eyes ablaze with blood lust. He thrust the dead commissar’s sword towards a surging mass of warriors.
“These are all Gauls. How will we find the Boii?”
Berenger had been considering this himself and still had no answer.
“We keep looking. Hannibal’s army is not endless.”
He stared southeast to where a storm of horsemen rode through the rear of the Roman column. Fighting for their very lives, the Romans were forced to give ground under the furious onslaught. At their backs lay the waters of Trasimene.
With a wet, meaty blow, the centurion’s sword struck, driving deep. Ust, on the verge of leaping past Beaugissa, had taken the blade in the thigh. The Gaul snarled and staggered, tearing the sword from the centurion’s grasp. Ust’s fellow warriors surged into the gap, their blades hacking at the legionaries, desperate to get at the centurion who leaned under his shield and that of the man to his left.
Panicked, Caros spun Beaugissa away from the rush of legionaries and Gauls.
“Enough here.” He elbowed Maleric to be sure his companion was with him. “Let the Boii finish this fight.”
Neugen tried spitting as he stumbled back from the crush.
“Gods, I need water. Some Latin bastard put a hole through my waterskin.”
Beaugissa, chest heaving, tossed hers to him, eyeing the lacerated bladder that hung from Neugen’s waist. He pointed at her shield as he uncorked the spout. The thick bronze edging and the leather face hung in tatters. Beneath the leather, the wood was split.
Caros helped her remove it.
“Your arm?” He touched her left forearm gently. Blood dripped from her fingertips and her knuckles were gouged and torn.
She shrugged brusquely and pulled her arm from his hand.
“Help me find another shield.”
Caros looked at her with admiration.
“You are a true warrior.” He waved to Rappo circling nearby, spear to hand and ready to plant it in any Roman foolish enough to present a target.
“Caros! The battle is ranging from the shores of the lake all the way to the hills in the northeast.”
Rappo had a better view from atop his horse and Caros turned in both directions. The fog had burned off to reveal the entirety of the battlefield and the frenzied and bloody slaughter.
“Find Beaugissa a shield, hers has snapped.”
Without hesitation, Rappo quickly loosened his and passed it to Beaugissa with a smile.
“No Roman has come near me.”
Beaugissa scowled, but took the proffered shield.
“Be sure and find one before you begin hunting the Latins again.”
Rappo grinned and juggled his quiver of spears.
“I have sent three of them on to their ancestors and have plenty of hunting left.”
Maleric laughed at him.
“I have taken four and gifted another handful scars they are not worthy to boast of.”
“Your people have broken these Romans.” Caros pointed to where Ust and his warriors were hacking at the last handful of legionaries.
Neugen passed the waterskin back to Beaugissa and gestured to the lake.
“This fight is done, but there are a lot of Romans still not ready to die.”
Caros shouldered his shield and checked his sword. The blade was beginning to loosen from the hilt, but he judged it would hold.
A great roar sounded from the south and the thunder of battle rose as Hannibal’s army converged on the center of the Roman column. Rappo circled his horse, ready to bolt towards the fighting.
“Fetch a shield from the wagons, Rappo. There will be Romans waiting when you return.”
Rappo dipped his chin with a sheepish smile and turned for the wagons at the foot of the hills.
Ust had dropped to the ground, his right leg swollen and bruised around the deep puncture wound. He beckoned Caros over.
“You Bastetani have earned my respect.” The Gaul looked past Caros to Neugen, a tight smile playing across his lips. “Seems you do know how to kill Romans.”
Neugen fingered the remains of the waterskin still hanging at his belt and looked at the bodies of the fallen legionaries without speaking.
Caros eyed the wound in the Gaul’s leg, his eyebrows knotted.
“Your fight is
over I think.”
Ust grimaced and waved away the flies swarming around the gaping wound.
“My fight is over, but yours is not.” His eyes found Maleric’s. “Flaminius must die here. Today.”
Reaching the wagons, Rappo found the man who kept stock of the clans weapons, a warrior whose skin hung like yellowed parchment from his wasted flesh. After invoking Ust’s name numerous times, he at last persuaded the Gaul to find him a new shield. Breathing heavily, the man climbed onto a wagon to rummage through the spare weapons for a suitable shield. The battlefield behind Rappo was strewn with shields, but they were for bigger men who fought on foot. After a fruitless search, the Gaul dropped the last shield angrily.
“Go to the Insubres. They will have shields for their riders.” Coughing, he eased himself off the wagon and glared at a band of warriors led by a single horseman approaching. “If they are looking for weapons, they can climb up there themselves.”
Rappo bade the Gaul farewell and anxious not to miss the battle, rode quickly to the Insubres camp.
There, the camp followers laughed at Rappo’s pony and his light spears, but quickly found him a suitable shield from among their weapons cache.
The battle lay directly to the south from there. Urging his pony into a gallop, he turned for it. Wind streaming through his hair, he passed the lone rider with his band of warriors. He glanced back, something about the rider stirring a sense of unease in his belly.
From across the battlefield, warriors streamed towards the growing fight close to the shore of the lake.
Caros led his companions along the road, towards the pitch and roar of blades and men. Gauls of the Boii loped past, roughly bound wounds leaving bloody prints on the dirt between the pale bodies of stripped legionaries.
Hurric and the burned youth ran past, their faces painted red with blood and their teeth slick with it. Hurric’s grin was fixed, his eyes stretched wide.
The pair turned and leaped into a cluster of dead legionaries. An agonized wail rose as they kicked and stabbed at some unseen survivor. Then they were on their knees, dragging on two flailing arms. A legionary appeared from under the corpses of his tent mates, his mouth gaping and his eyes rolling.
Howl of Blades Page 26