Beaugissa nodded and Maleric crowed to the two youths.
“Well caught!”
As they stripped the terrified legionary, Caros noticed he was no older than the two young Gauls.
Neugen snorted and toed the Roman’s sheathed sword.
“He never even drew his blade.”
“They were hit hard. None of these used their weapons.” Caros knelt and drew a sword from the scabbard of one of the dead men. Testing its balance, he shook his head and dropped it.
Maleric walked further afield to where a Gaul knelt in death, his forehead pressed to the dirt.
“Insubres. This one was killed by a slingshot from behind. One of our own killed him.”
The stripped Roman began a long howl of terror as the burned youth tied his hands to the body of a dead man. Hurric bound the Romans ankles with his torn tunic and then drew a short knife from his belt.
Warhorns resounded from the battlefront and warriors jogged faster. Roman trumpets tore across the sound of the warhorns and a crash of armour and blades signaled another charge.
Caros drew his sword.
“We will add our blades to the harvesting and see this battle through to the end.”
The Roman captive squealed as Hurric’s knife bit into his chest.
Maleric braced his legs, lifted his weapons and roared a challenge to the Romans in their ranks.
The Boii were hurtling at their enemies, swords, spears and clubs swinging.
The Roman’s squealing turned to a rasp and gurgle, his legs jerking free from the burned youth’s grip.
Hurric thrust his hand into the Roman’s chest and tore free his still pounding heart. Lifting it to the gods, he roared his war cry.
Chapter 24
The legionaries numbered in the thousands. In their midst were the banners and sigils of their leader, the consul Flaminius. Here, arrayed with their backs to the muddy shore of the shallow lake, were the iron-hard legionaries.
Caros whistled at the sight of the ranked shields holding firm against the press of Boii Gauls.
“We have cut down a forest of saplings to reach this mighty oak.”
Maleric whipped his sword in a swift arc above his head and pivoted at his waist.
“The Insubres are not doing much better.”
A bare-chested warrior staggered away from the fight, his hands pressed to a rent in his belly, his legs awash with his lifeblood.
“Beaugissa. Neugen. Keep in our shadows and make your spears bite true.”
Neugen’s lips curled back and he fixed his gaze on the Romans.
“I feel the strength of Runeovex in my arms.” He held his spear in both hands, his shield left to hang on his back.
An Insubres graybeard pounded his chest, roaring to his kin to join him in breaking the Roman lines. They were numerous and wealthy too judging by the quality of their armour and weapons. Shaking spears and swords as keen as themselves, they followed the graybeard, charging with a deafening roar at their foe. The legionaries stood silent save for the rattle of shield rims against one another.
The Boii slowed to watch the Insubres attack. A column of Greeks cheered as the Gauls streamed past. Balearic slingers hooted and sent a spray of shot at the Romans before scampering from the path of the graybeard and his charging warriors.
“This way!” Caros slapped Maleric’s shoulder. “Here, leave them. They will bloody themselves for no gain.”
He led the others through the Boii Gauls, cajoling them to follow to the east flank. Most remained rooted to the spot, ready to follow the Insubres charge, certain it would peel back the Roman shields.
Neugen followed, but his eyes were on the charge.
“Why not fight here? Look at them! They will shatter the Romans.”
“The Romans have already strengthened their lines there.”
Caros sidestepped a kneeling legionary, eyes lost to a spear, swinging his sword blindly from side to side. Passing Gauls slapped his back with the butts of their spears and jeered him, but none would pierce him through.
Beyond the blind Roman, the battle lines were fragmented. The center of the Roman lines were intact and holding, but they were striking out at the scattered bands of Gauls that confronted them.
Caros stopped his companions, eyeing the ebb and flow of the clashes.
“Here is where this battle is won.”
Maleric whistled a warning and raised his shield and sword.
“Looks like these chiton-wearing girls fancy a little prodding.”
A band of Romans swept aside a charge by African warriors, deflecting spear thrusts and gutting the attackers as though butchering sheep.
Caros called to the Gauls that had followed him and his companions.
“Stand with us. Here will be a fight!”
They had seen the brutal end to the Africans’ charge and hurried to form a strong wall of shields and blades.
Rappo cursed as he rode his mount through the rear ranks of Hannibal’s army. Ahead, a furious charge by a horde of screaming Gauls rocked the Roman’s ranks before breaking into a score of wild melees.
Closer by, he glimpsed a half-naked warrior lift a sword too large for him to wield. Riding nearer, Rappo recognized the youth as the half-burned Boii. There too was Hurric, although he wore the visage of some daemon rather than the pleasant youth Rappo had met before.
“Hurric!” Rappo kept his pony moving, wary of the yellow-eyed stare the Gaul turned on him. “Where are Caros and my companions?”
Hurric lifted his hand and opened his fist to reveal a man’s heart.
“There is power here for the taking. I will be a great warrior after this battle.”
Rappo kept an eye on the burned youth who dribbled blood from his lips.
“Have you seen Ust?”
Hurric blinked and hid the heart away beneath his tunic.
“Ust is wounded. He is making for the camp, but your friends are circling east.”
Rappo did not wait for Hurric to continue. The two Gauls were in the throes of blood thirst and their actions unpredictable. He wove between warriors retreating with wounds and after riding a little distance, cast a glance over his shoulder to be sure they were not following. A horseman was leaning towards Hurric who looked Rappo’s way and pointed.
His pony shied from a wounded warrior who screamed when another tripped over him. Rappo shuddered at the unfortunate’s gaping wounds and urged his mount past.
On the eastern flank of the battle, legionaries were driving into a wall of Gauls. A sword hacked down, battering a Latin’s helmet tighter onto his head and ringing his ears. The sword wielder was Maleric. With a whoop, Rappo galloped his pony towards the fight, spears to hand and ready to fly.
Caros sucked air through his mouth, tasting the salt of his sweat, the saliva of the Romans in front of him and the blood of the man at his feet.
“Stab! Between their shields!”
The Boii fought like all Gauls, hacking with abandon at the Roman shields. The Romans, outnumbered by three to two, were killing good warriors and driving Caros and the rest backwards relentlessly.
Maleric grunted and kicked a Roman shield, halting the man and forcing his fellows to either side to slow.
“These lads will break and run in moments, Caros.”
“They are driving us back.”
“I mean our friends, not the Romans.”
Beaugissa called a warning and stabbed at a Roman’s face, only to have her spear turned by his shield.
“Fight like warriors instead of hiding behind your shields!” Her exasperation made her careless and a legionary’s hairy fist closed around her spear shaft, catching it behind the blade.
The legionary gave a sharp jerk and Beaugissa crashed into Caros’ back, propelling him forward. Two Roman swords flashed between their shields, one aimed at his belly, the other at his groin. Desperately, he hacked across his body, knocking the blades down and feeling one score his knee painfully.
Neugen
snarled and drove his spear low, taking a Roman in the ankle. He had to snatch the spear back before he could inflict more than a gash or risk having his spear snapped by a stamping boot.
“Caros! We are leaking bodies. We will be left standing here like limp cocks at a wedding if we do not fall back.”
The Boii had bled enough. Their hunger for killing had fled them as they had died instead. In heartbeats the last of their fighters would turn and flee to seek refuge among greater numbers.
“I know it! Three paces back! Halt and stab!” Caros counted the paces aloud, stepped and braced. The Romans were on him at once and only Neugen and Beaugissa’s spear thrusts kept them from knocking him and Maleric to the dirt.
Maleric hacked and a legionary jerked his shield a handbreadth too far to the right, gifting Caros a target. He thrust his falcata into the gap made between the shields, stabbing at the meat of the man’s thigh.
His sword bit, opening muscle and scraping bone. In that moment, the Boii turned away from the fight.
“They are running! We must flee.”
Caros jerked his sword back and at the same time a Roman smashed into his shield, sending him backwards into Beaugissa. Both went to their knees leaving Maleric swinging his sword and shield to hold back the legionaries. A thin line of Boii were left fighting for their lives, unable to break away for fear of a blade in their back and the ignominy of a coward’s mark.
Neugen whooped and leaped high, driving his spear into a startled Roman’s face, tearing his cheek open and cracking the bone beneath.
“I am Neugen of the Bastetani!”
A naked warrior, miraculously alive still, shrilled and sprang into the gap Caros had left. Maleric jeered the Romans as they closed ranks against the naked warrior, whose blows sent leather facing and chips of wood sailing away over their helmets.
Caros, back on his feet, saw they would be overrun in the time it took to bleed a bull dry. They had a single hope.
“Boii! Fall back to me!” He bellowed in pidgin Greek. “Make your stand here!”
Maleric added his voice, calling to the Gauls in their own language. That way, two score hard-pressed warriors shrunk from a thin line to a tiny pocket around which the Romans surged.
Caros caught Beaugissa’s eye and tilted his head to her.
“Spear Heart, I cannot make a fog to escape into, nor do I come with a hundred mounted Gauls at my back.” He lifted his falcata, its blade radiant in the bright sunlight. “All I have is this blade and my arm to swing it.”
The cold mask she wore cracked into a rainbow smile as a tear tracked down her cheek, cutting through blood and dirt.
“You have more, Caros. You have my spear and Neugen’s shield and you have Maleric’s sword too.” She slapped her spear against his chest, the shaft ringing against the leather and bronze. “You must lead us through this fight for only you are Caros, Claw of the Lion!”
Neugen nodded and Maleric tapped his helmet with the butt of his sword handle and crossed his eyes. Caros breathed deeply, drinking in the beaming face of the brave woman who stood ready to die beside him.
“Then we have an army these Latin bastards will not soon forget.”
Caros beat his sword against his shield, drumming a rapid tattoo. His companions yelled and shook their blades at the Roman shields and watchful eyes peering at them from over the rims. The Boii warriors joined them, drumming their shields and chanting their killing spells. Hard fighters and brave to the man, they would sell their lives dearly here beside a lake in the lands of the Etruscans.
Commands barked in Latin signaled the Roman advance. The vanguard of the surviving Romans, they were determined to cut a path out of the snare Hannibal had set them.
Caros braced his shield, set the blade of his sword against the upper rim and marked the Roman opposite him
“Bastetani!”
The legionaries did not challenge them with cries of their own, but came on with sharp strides and crunching boots. Their swords set to thrust and their shields held at the breast to guard their neighbor.
Beaugissa’s spear struck, darting past his ear and knocking a legionary’s helmet askew. Neugen stabbed, his spear going low and opening a knee.
Caros kicked at a shield and cracked the rim of his own against the Roman’s helmet when the man ducked his head.
A flurry of blows and stabs followed, the noise a deafening thud and crunch. Men’s shrill cries of pain were swallowed as they fell to the ground. Blood sprayed across Caros and the Roman as a Gaul’s throat was opened.
Neugen lost his spear. The shaft splintered by a sword blow and the spear head breaking off in a Roman shield. He cursed and threw the shaft at the ranks of Romans. Unsheathing his sword, he set himself against a stocky Roman centurion who had already claimed the lives of two Gauls.
Maleric grunted as he shoved his sword into a legionary’s elbow and allowed a sword to cut across the outside of his thigh, peeling away a layer of skin.
Caros thrust his blade at a Roman’s eyes, forcing the man to sway backwards. Pushing forward he stamped hard on the toes of the man’s left foot and hacked overhead. His blade bit through the legionary’s helmet and blood flooded from under the rim and down his face.
Out of breath, hands slippery with blood and sweat, Caros stood behind his shield, weathering blows and blocking sword thrusts. There was no holding the weight of the Romans and he was forced back, one skidding pace after the other.
Beaugissa strained at his back to add her weight to his.
“Caros! I see Rappo coming with more of our warriors following.”
He winced as a Roman spear hissed past his ear. Casting a hurried glance over his shoulder, his spirits soared to see Rappo galloping hard, spears already singing.
A rider followed close behind Rappo, leading a band of warriors eager for the fight.
Maleric lost his footing, his ankle twisting on a corpse. Falling back, he grunted and hopped around to fend off a surging legionary, cutting the Roman’s sword arm from elbow to wrist.
The Boii Gauls in the circle had been cut down to half their number in the short exchange of sharpened iron. Men snarled as blades bit into their limbs, opened their guts or tore out their loins. They snarled and struck back, spitting blood into the eyes of their killers, dragging the swords that killed them from hands that shook with fear and exhaustion.
The Roman centurion batted Neugen’s shield aside and struck swiftly, aiming at his loins.
Neugen blocked the blow at the very last and kicked out, snapping the Roman’s wrist. The centurion dropped his sword, but undaunted, attacked Neugen with his shield. The rim cut a gash across his thigh and then the boss cracked into his chin.
Caros cursed as his friend staggered, eyes rolling and his arms falling aside. The Roman pulled his short blade and advanced on Neugen, raising the knife.
A spear punched through the Roman’s chest and exploded from his back. Whipping over the tumbling centurion, a second buried itself in the eye of a staring legionary. With his wild ululations sounding over the cries of dying men and ringing blades, Rappo raced his pony past the face of the oncoming Romans.
Behind him, advanced skirmishers who hurled a screen of spears into the Roman advance. Slingers too, sent shot punching into the legionaries that had encircled he and his companions, but it was a crashing charge of heavily armored Insubres warriors that finally drove off those Romans around Caros and his companions.
Clutching Beaugissa, Caros dragged her back through the press of iron and leather. Maleric and Neugen followed closely, arms slung over one another’s shoulders and panting.
The onrush of warriors lessened and Caros heaved a relieved sigh and closed his eyes to send his thanks to the god of war.
Beaugissa cried out and lurched from his grip just as Maleric gave a shout of alarm.
A blow struck Caros in the shoulder, cracking the bronze and tearing the leather. The force of the blow and raging pain that flared through his chest and dow
n his arm spun him about.
A blade swept towards him and he flung up his shield in a desperate attempt to block it from opening his throat. A dark face beyond the blade contorted with fury while Caros reeled backwards, straining to lift his sword. It was no use. His shoulder was aflame and his arm throbbed in agony.
Berenger set his blade, ready to strike.
“I have you, Bastetani. I am going to cut your head from your body and nail it to the gates of Qart Hadasht.”
Beyond Berenger, a handful of Iberians fell on Neugen and Maleric. A spear plunged into the Gaul’s thigh and he choked back a pained cry while a leering warrior twisted it. Neugen cut the man’s head open with a roar of fury. Two men struck at him, their blades flashing in the hot sun, one cracking into the bronze plate on his chest the other tearing open his forearm.
Caros ducked away as Berenger swept his blade at his throat. Heated fury ignited in his chest and he surged forward, receiving a powerful blow to his cheek from Berenger’s sword hilt. His vision clouded and blood filling his throat, Caros drove his head upwards, smashing his helmet into Berenger’s chin and following through with his blade, punching it up into the man’s groin.
Berenger snarled and tried to reverse his sword to stab Caros. His face came closer, blowing fetid breath and spittle into Caros’ eyes. He snapped at Caros’ face while pulling at the short knife in Caros’ belt.
Mustering his strength, Caros threw Berenger aside and staggered after him. Berenger snatched at a discarded spear, but came up with only the splintered shaft. Caros kicked him to the ground and dropped onto his back. Berenger twisted fruitlessly under Caros’ weight, his breath coming in deep gasps. He began to howl when Caros dug his fingers under his helmet, nails gouging flesh from his face. With a wrench, Caros turned the man’s head, but he could get no purchase with his legs which slid on Berenger’s blood-slick limbs.
Berenger gibbered and raved, his arms reaching for Caros’ eyes, his legs thrashing the ground.
Taking a deep breath and setting his knees either side of the man’s hips, Caros used both hands to twist the helmet, slowly strangling Berenger’s screams. The snap of Berenger’s neck vibrated up Caros’ arms and the killer’s legs worked furiously for a heartbeat before his body went limp.
Howl of Blades Page 27