“There is nothing you can do that will not make this worse.” Beaugissa shouted at Caros.
Rappo was within strides of the front of the Ilerget pack when he swung his feet onto his horses back, his left hand wrapped in its free-flowing mane.
With his war cry on his lips he turned his mount, to run her past the prodding spear points. Then he launched himself through the air.
The Ilerget watched the mad rider sail over the end of their line. Belatedly, a warrior tried to stab him as the Masulian passed overhead.
Caros’ jaw dropped as Rappo’s mare turned and met her rider as he descended. The Masulian landed lightly on her back and clasped a handful of mane to balance himself as he rode away from the Ilerget.
Simnon’s eyes were round as were Maleric’s. Beaugissa sat up straighter to see better, a cloud lifted from her face.
Rappo was hooting and crowing. Ranging beyond slingshot or spear throw, he held aloft his prize. An Ilerget spear, snatched from the hands of the surprised warrior. His mare echoed his taunts and struck the air with her forehooves.
“This is some foreign magic, surely?” Simnon laughed. Caros whooped and ululated while Maleric sat open-mouthed. Beaugissa alone did not smile, but Caros thought he saw a hint of amusement shine in her eyes.
Rappo stopped his prancing and taunts. He rode closer to the Ilerget and flipped the long spear, catching it neatly behind the neck of the wicked blade. He extended it to the Ilerget. The token of peace was as plain as the bright sun above the forests and hills around them.
The cursing and spear shaking Ilerget fell silent, watchful. A woman amongst them muttered to a warrior. When he shook his head, she backhanded him, ringing his helm. He cursed and glowered, but others were taking her side and he was forced from the tight huddle to approach Rappo. The warrior paced towards the rider nervously.
Rappo offered the man the spear. The Ilerget took the shaft, the head of the spear aimed at young Rappo’s unarmored chest.
Eyeing Rappo from beneath his heavy eyebrows, he slowly withdrew the spear and tucked it under his arm before standing back a pace.
“What is your name horse man?”
“I am Rappo of the Masulian people. Here to make war on Romans.” Rappo’s voice carried to everyone. He pointed at Caros. “There is the warrior whose war name is Caros the Claw. It is he who knows the how of killing Romans. His blade sings with the blood of their slain warriors.” This last he shouted so his voice echoed over the forested hills.
The Ilerget looked down the trail as one, suddenly uneasy. The warrior raised a hand to Caros, but backed towards his people.
“Find Indibilis son of Andobales.” He called. “He thirsts for war, especially against the Romans.” The warrior turned back to his people and strode away with them without looking back.
They encountered more clans of Ilerget people as they rode south. They were mostly small family groups, all equally eager to avoid confrontation. Many simply backed off the trail the moment they spotted Caros and the riders with him. Few responded to calls from Caros or Simnon as to where Hanno or even Indibilis might be.
With their provisions running low, Caros was becoming desperate to find Hanno’s encampment and deliver the messages from Hannibal.
Rappo had taken on the role of teacher, helping Beaugissa and Simnon to master their mounts. While Simnon went along with this, it was clear to Caros that the warrior would never become anything more than an adequate horse rider.
Beaugissa showed far more potential. In just three days she had become a much better rider and with Rappo’s deep well of advice, she was showing true potential. The shadows that curtained her eyes fell away when she spoke to her mount as she brushed its coat with handfuls of scrub grass in the evenings after they made camp.
“We have food for a day more on the trail. After that we will need to find an Ilerget that will consider trading with us rather than spit at our shades.” Caros muttered bleakly as he chewed on a hard crust of fire-browned bread.
“I could hunt some game. There are plenty of spoors about.” Rappo suggested.
Caros shook his head. “There is too much risk hunting in these forests.”
Maleric saw the wounded look on the Masulian’s face. “He means for every Ilerget warrior we have seen, there are probably a handful we’ve not seen watching us from the trees.”
Beaugissa was sharpening her sword. “True words. I can feel a man’s stare from a spear throw away and have felt it more than once as we rode today.” Her brows were curled low as she concentrated on a stubborn fleck of rust. “Better to set traps when we make camp.”
Rappo looked at her with interest. “You know how to then?”
Beaugissa glared at him for a moment before her expression softened. “It is still light. I can show you if you wish.”
Caros frowned at the growing shade beneath the trees surrounding them. “Dark soon.”
“Then we will need to work faster.” The warrioress rose swiftly, sliding away her blade. She pulled a ball of leather thong from her small pack.
Simnon made to rise, but she glared at him as Rappo sprang eagerly to his feet, a bright smile on his face.
Maleric smirked and rolled himself into his cloak beside the dying fire while Caros sighed and lay back. He felt the message pouch beneath his tunic. Finding Hanno was taking too long. Uneasy, he pulled his sheathed sword closer before closing his eyes.
Footsteps pounding through the trees woke Caros in the cold of the autumn morning. He was laying curled beneath his cloak, his sword under his hand.
Shedding the cloak as he sprang up, he drew the blade. Beaugissa was up as well, hair wild about her face as she held her blade out before her. Caros flipped his shield upright with his foot and swiftly picked it up. Maleric and Simnon were slower to rise, but by then Rappo had appeared from between the trees, a large object swinging from one hand.
He slowed upon seeing the others up. Caros recognized the creature Rappo was carrying, its distinctive quills rattling although the animal was clearly dead. The traps Beaugissa had helped him set had worked then
“Gods, you woke us for that.” Maleric grunted.
Rappo shook his head. “Better. I have found the Carthaginians.”
Rappo had not seen the encampment, just the dark smudge of cooking fires that lay over the hills to their south.
“Could be the Romans.” Maleric argued as they stood on the hillside below their own small camp and stared south.
“No, they are north around Empúries.” Simnon looked to Beaugissa for agreement.
“This is where we expected to find Indibilis.” She turned back to their camp, her eyes hard again.
Caros followed her back. “You are eager to fight the Romans.” He rolled his cloak and tied it across his pack.
Beaugissa lifted the porcupine and flicked a flea from her wrist. “He should have gutted it where he found it.” She said darkly.
Caros combed and tied his hair back before fitting his helm on. “You fought them with Simnon, yet you don’t speak of it.”
She walked to the edge of the camp and slit the animal from its protruding anus to under its jaw. Caros saw the tension in her shoulders and the angry twist of her honed blade.
“Carry feelings like that onto the battlefield and you will die without drawing blood.” He spoke quietly.
With an expert wrench, Beaugissa tore the skin from the beast. Next, she dumped its innards onto the skin and wrapped them. When she turned to him, holding the butchered carcass, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
Caros immediately regretted prying. “I am sorry. Perhaps it is not my business.”
“We were returning from a wedding. A sister of one of our leading men married to a Lacetani trader near Empúries. A good match and they made a handsome couple. We had no idea the Romans had come. Their horsemen surrounded our camp. We held them back with our spears and by retreating up a hillside too steep for their horse.
Simnon and Maleri
c appeared, but Beaugissa ignored them. Maleric frowned at Caros and Simnon paled.
“Then their foot warriors came. The ones called legionaries.” She spat and ground the gob into the dirt under a heel.
“They walked up the hill and straight over us. Every warrior, every woman and every child stood against them. Pitched our spears, beat their shields…”
Rappo stepped into the small clearing and froze. Caros wanted her to stop, but was transfixed by her eyes.
“They stabbed and clubbed us like… like a hunter kills a toothless lynx.” She sank to her knees, the buzz of flies around the skin and offal loud in the silence.
Caros looked at Simnon who stood with his eyes closed, rocking on his feet, deep in the memory.
“I was shoved over a ravine and fell, jarred myself senseless. When I awoke, I was half buried in soil and under a dense bush. The fighting was over and the Romans had a handful of men and women on their knees. They turned the women over to their horsemen as a…” She dry-heaved. “As a reward. I hear their death screams as they were ploughed by those filthy beasts.” Beaugissa drew herself up, her cheeks pale and tear streaked. “That was not the worst thing done that day. They cut trees and fashioned some stakes. Only they did not impale our men. They drove spikes of iron through their wrists and feet, nailing them to the stakes before setting these upright in the ground so our men hung twisted and screaming.” She shuddered, her shoulders and chest heaving.
Simnon turned on his heel and stumbled into the forest. Maleric looked angry and sick at once while Rappo’s eyes glowered.
A boiling core rose into Caros’ chest. This is what had come to the peoples of Iberia.
Rappo came forward and took the carcass from beside Beaugissa. He made to throw it far into the trees, certain not one person there could eat now.
“The trap worked.” Beaugissa’s hand gripped his wrist tightly. “The Romans will not stop us filling our bellies while we can.”
Rappo nodded, but kept his eyes down. He quickly built a fire and set up the carcass to roast.
Caros took up his pack and went to his horse, his heart still hammering. Fumbling with the cords to tie it behind his saddle, he did not hear Maleric come up.
“What did you do, Caros?” The Gaul’s voice thick with anger.
Caros looked at the man, his eyes wide. “I thought she had lost her man or… I never imagined.” He shook his head.
“We could all see she was haunted by shades. Why did you ask?”
Caros finally tied the pack in place and leant his forehead on the horse’s shoulder. “She has the look of a warrior who would run onto a spear just to be ended. You have seen such warriors, their eyes burning and minds gone. They look for death. I had hoped I could prevent her doing the same.”
He felt Maleric’s hand close on his shoulder. “After what she just told us, I think I can see why she might want that. What is in the minds of these Romans?”
“They have to be stopped Maleric. I hope that between Hanno and Indibilis we can hold them until Hasdrubal joins us.” Caros looked at his companion.
“I came along with you because I wanted to see new places. Hate being anywhere too long.” He shrugged. “Now? Now I have a mind to wage war Caros.”
Caros smiled bleakly at him. “Then my friend, you will not be disappointed.”
The encampment was not yet in sight when the thunder of hooves brought a column of horsemen sweeping over a bare hill and down onto Caros and his company.
“Keep your hands away from your weapons!” Caros shouted as the horsemen plunged down the hill towards them, whooping savagely.
“Ilerget?” Maleric called.
“Yes!” Simnon yelled as the horsemen encircled them, filling the air with shrieks and dust.
Caros sat tight-lipped and patient as the warriors circled and waved their spears. After they had sufficiently demonstrated their martial prowess they quietened down to a steady beat of hooves until one of their number broke ranks and cantered up to the group.
“Where are you lot going?”
Caros smiled and pointed to where he presumed the encampment lay. “Looking for the Carthaginian command and to meet Indibilis. We are heading the right way?”
Wary now, the warrior examined Caros’ fellow riders. He looked confused by their differences.
Caros did not give him time to think. “We have been traveling for days and if we are to stop the Romans we need to speak with Commander Hanno urgently.”
“How do I know you are not here to kill him? The Romans have sown gold among the warriors from Empúries to Cissa to turn on the Barcas.”
“They are spreading?” Caros asked aghast.
A greasy-haired horseman spat. “Like oil on water. So, who are you lot then? What makes you think the Carthaginian prick will even see you, eh?”
“My war name is Caros the Claw. I have come from General Hannibal’s army with letters for Commander Hanno.”
The warrior’s jaw dropped, revealing his back teeth. With a snap, he shut his mouth, his eyes flickering under suddenly creased brows.
“You are going in the right direction. The commander’s pavilion is in the center. You cannot miss it.” He spun his mount away and roared to his column, leading the twenty warriors away at a gallop.
“That name of yours is handy.” Maleric laughed.
“It is a war name bestowed by a leading man of my people.” Rappo looked offended, but then smiled widely. “He shat in his braccae when you told him who you were.”
“You have been around Maleric too long. When did he teach you that one?”
Rappo smirked. “I said it right?”
Beaugissa rolled her eyes. “We should ride before more arrogant Ilerget come waving their limp cocks at us.”
Caros looked at Maleric accusingly. “By the gods you have been busy.”
“I don’t know what you mean, but you heard her, we are almost there.” He urged his horse after the Vascon warrioress with a click of his tongue and some ineffective kicks. Caros winced to see the Gaul ride.
The encampment was a series of camps centered in a wide valley. From the trail on a hillside overlooking it, Caros could easily see the more orderly lines of the professional warriors Carthage recruited from the Libyan people on the outskirts of their African territories. He had a deep respected for these warriors having seen them in the thick of the fighting at the siege of Sagunt and again on the Rhône. They were tough, well-armed and knew their business. Hanno and his inner-circle of Carthaginian officers, administrators and scribes would be found there.
As expected, the Carthaginian command was in the center of the Libyan camp. Caros led his small company into the valley, forestalling delays by producing the sealed message tubes from the oiled leather pouch he kept within his tunic. One look at the distinctive seal of the Barca family, featuring a ram-headed figure holding a scepter, was enough to convince even the most zealous guards to let them to pass unhindered into the camp.
Arriving at the Libyan lines, a squad of efficient looking warriors halted them.
“I have an urgent message from General Hannibal to deliver to the commander.” Caros repeated as he showed the Libyans the sealed message tubes.
“We will summon an officer for you, until then you will wait here.” The warrior sent one of his men to find an available officer. He dark hair was tinged with gray at the temples and he sported a white scar across his nose and left cheek. Clearly a veteran of many campaigns, the scarred warrior looked at Caros with interest.
“You rode with Hannibal Barca?” He asked.
“I did. Fought through the Volcae at the Rhône with his army.” Caros looked with interest at the tent lines. There seemed no signs of preparation for battle with the Romans. He may have arrived in time. “How fares the war here against the Romans?” He asked in return.
The warrior spat into the hard-packed earth at his sandaled feet. “What war?” He grimaced. “The bastard Greeks at Empúries allowed them to
land and offered them everything they needed. Before we knew they were here, they had put gold in the purses of half the bloody leading men along the coast north of the Ebro.”
“You have not clashed at all then?” Caros was surprised, knowing Hanno to be a man quick to act.
“No. Word is Hasdrubal is marching this way. Hanno will probably wait for him and his forces. There are a good many Romans. Maybe double our numbers.” He smiled, revealing gaps where his teeth had been knocked out long ago in some fight. “Truth is, as much as I would like to test my blade against the Romans, I would rather do it knowing we had a fighting chance.”
“There is good sense in that.” Caros smiled back.
An officer arrived from within the Libyan lines, his skin dark against the white of his tunic. A crest of white feathers swayed above his shinning helm and armor dazzled under the sun.
“I am Thumut. You are Caros and you have messages from Hannibal Barca himself?”
“I am and I do, yes. I swore to deliver these messages by hand to Hanno, so show me the way.”
“Your companions will be shown to tents where they can wash, eat and rest.” Thumut ordered the veteran to send another of his guard to arrange this.
As Caros’ companions peeled away after the guard, shooting envious glances his way.
Thumut nodded at Caros. “You look like you have been riding hard. Hanno will be pleased to see you and more so to receive news from Hannibal Barca.”
Chapter 9
The lines were as well ordered as they had looked from afar. Tents of goat hides were in good repair, fires crackled as plentiful meals were prepared, and everywhere healthy warriors tended to the minutiae of daily camp life. The clash of weaponry rang across the sea of tents as warriors sparred and trained. Many warriors had brought their families with them and were taking their ease outside the tents while children played and women sang.
Caros drank it all in, marveling at the lack of urgency. It spoke of a confidence founded in victory. What had he expected? The Carthaginians had not suffered a serious defeat in the field since the time of Hamilcar, Hannibal’s father. Not though, had they faced Rome since that time.
Gladius Winter Page 10