Gladius Winter

by J Glenn Bauer

  Caros snarled and hurled his spear even as the auxiliary swept his blade towards her. It punched into his face and snapped his head backwards. In a heartbeat, Maleric was there with Simnon, and the three men formed a shield for her as she fell back on foot towards Rappo, who remained outside the twist and slash of steel and hoof.

  Drawing his falcata, Caros fended off a sword thrust with his shield and sliced a rider’s knee to the bone. Simnon followed through and opened his throat with a flick of his spearhead.

  A concerted attack by three auxiliaries held their attention for hammering heartbeats. Blocking, slashing and always battling to stay atop their mounts. A horse reared, lashing at Simnon’s mount with its hooves. His horse veered away and Simnon, too inexperienced to recover, pitched into the swirling dust.

  Caros was struggling to inflict a wound on his opponent who somehow still wielded a spear. Driven by fear and the urge to flee, the auxiliary drove his spear too far, missing Caros who swayed aside. In the blink of an eye, Caros had the shaft clenched in his left fist and gave a mighty wrench. The panting auxiliary gasped and fell forward, allowing Caros to strike the back of his helm, letting the power of the falcata do the work of splitting the thin metal and living tissue beneath.

  Spinning his mount as the man slid to the ground, Caros spied the auxiliary officer slapping at his mount and tearing past Maleric. The Gaul had lost his spear and was instead beating his fist on the helm of an auxiliary who dragged at his leg, trying to unseat him.

  “Rappo! Spear!” Caros called. The Masulian was off his horse and scrambling among the fallen.

  “I am looking for more as I have none left!”

  Caros cursed and then saw the spear Beaugissa had impaled the earth with, still quivering. He raced his mount to it, surprised at the distance they had covered in the scrum of the fight. Sheathing his blade, he pulled the spear free of the ground. The spearhead itself was twisted and the very point folded backwards.

  With no other spear to hand, Caros had no choice and bolted after the fleeing officer while brandishing the deformed weapon. He passed Simnon and Beaugissa, both stabbing at the enemy warrior grappling with Maleric. Rappo let out a triumphant yell and vaulted onto his mount as Caros sped past. Other riders were all around them now. An auxiliary rode parallel with Caros, hunched low over his mount’s withers. The man looked up at Caros and blinked. Caros ignored the horseman and concentrated on the officer carrying away the unit’s standard. He closed the distance relentlessly. Other riders joined the chase, but he was closest and behind him came Rappo. The Masulian pony and rider, more than up to the task.

  The enemy officer knew he was being pursued. He stretched low across his mount, riding swiftly and expertly. He did not beat his mount with the bloody sword he held stiff-armed behind him. Neither did he glance back. He did not have to.

  Caros’ shadow fell over the hindquarters of the mount and crept higher. Lifting the mangled spear, he prepared to plunge it into the man’s exposed kidneys, where his armor lifted. The officer somehow knew. Perhaps he too had watched Caros’ shadow. His sword arm flicked and Caros caught the glint of sun off the blade as it spun at him. He snarled and stabbed with the spear, turning his face into his shoulder as he did so.

  The blunted spear broke flesh, tearing a cry of pain from the officer. In the next heartbeat, the tumbling sword struck Caros in the neck.

  He lost his grip on the spear shaft and folded low as the pain numbed his shoulder and tore through his neck.

  Eyes squeezed shut, he heard Rappo’s war cry receding along with the immediate hoofbeats. He panted and sobbed through clenched teeth, trying to fight the grinding pain that engulfed his neck and shoulders. His horse slowed while he hung from it, breathless with the effort to keep from passing out. Expecting a final twisting blade to end him. Horses and riders passed singly and in groups, but paid one more dying warrior no heed. Auxiliaries were consumed by the need to flee. Ilerget by the need to kill those fleeing.

  Taking another breath, he cracked his eyes open and sat up slowly, feeling the shock recede and life returning to his right arm. A pair of Ilerget galloped past, whooping. They tossed a dark, hairy object between them. Seeing him, they laughed and threw it his way. It landed with a hollow smack and split wider along the gash hacked into it. Caros spat and looked away from the thing, flexing his right arm back to strength.

  While he did this, Rappo returned, holding aloft the Roman auxiliaries’ standard while in his wake Ilerget warriors turned and followed. Caros drew his falcata, took another deep breath and tried to hold his chin higher.

  Rappo reached him at the head of a score of whooping and yelling Ilerget. His young face alight with the fever that comes after battle. He grinned broadly and presented the Roman standard to Caros.

  Ilerget riders surrounded them, drumming their shields with spears and swords. Caros grasped the standard and held it aloft, letting the sun play off the discs of bronze that hung from its crosspiece. More warriors were gathering and with them came Maleric, Simnon and Beaugissa.

  The three joined Rappo and formed a circle around Caros.

  Beaugissa immediately saw the pain on his face and her eyes widened when she saw his throat and neck. She muttered to Maleric and Simnon. The men dragged their eyes from the standard.

  “By the gods! You are wounded.” Maleric took Caros by the shoulder and helped steady him. “Rappo, take the standard. Simnon, give me a hand getting our young hero onto his horse.”

  “It is not that bad. Just bruised.” Caros hissed as they helped him mount. “My thanks.” He looked the others over, seeing the bruises and welts on their arms and legs. Beaugissa had bloodied her nose when she was unhorsed and it was crusted over her lip. Simnon had opened his hand on a blade and one eye was swelling from a blow. Through a rip in the thick fabric of Maleric’s braccae were what looked suspiciously like bite marks in the Gaul’s thigh.

  “Well, it looks like we beat them off.” He grimaced as he turned his head.

  “We did.” Maleric grinned. “Got a shiny prize there too for the effort.”

  Beaugissa wiped her nose, frowned at the blood and laughed. “I never knew the ground could punch that hard.”

  Simnon clapped Rappo on the shoulder. “This one looks like he just arrived. If I had not seen him put down three of the enemy with my own eyes, I would have thought he was far from battle.”

  Rappo’s eyes were round and in the aftermath of the fight he had paled. He managed a laugh and regained his composure. “Each time we fight, you become the hunter and the enemy the prey.” His voice rose and the Ilerget closest quieted and strained to hear. “You sweep down on the foe and strike them with bloodied claw. Aiyee, your name is well given, Caros the Claw!”

  There was a moment of stillness and then Beaugissa lifted her spear. “Caros the Claw!”

  Maleric grinned at Simnon and the two men roared. “Caros the Claw!”

  Caros raised the auxiliary standard. “For our people!, Ilerget, Bastetani, Vascon and all the others of our tribes.”

  The silent Ilerget looked at one another and slow smiles grew. A young, bare-chested warrior whooped and lifted his bloody spear. Others followed and although they did not call Caros by his war name, they gave voice to their triumph.

  Indibilis was at the gates of the hillfort, conferring with the Illercavone inhabitants. The Ilerget warriors had made short work of robbing the corpses of the auxiliaries that had fallen and were now tending to their mounts and their wounds on the hillside below the gates.

  Caros passed the standard to Rappo before slowly dismounting, his right arm throbbing and heavy. Rappo passed the standard back to him once he had adjusted his tunic and steadied himself.

  Indibilis broke off talking to the Illercavone to watch as he approached. The Ilerget’s face was impassive and Caros noticed that he barely spared a glance at the standard.

  “Indibilis. A victory for you and a prize that will make the Romans grieve.” Caros extended the st
andard to the short warrior.

  Indibilis finally looked at the standard, his eyes taking on a bright glow. He took the proffered standard with a wide smile.

  “I had heard that you took their standard.” The highly polished discs cast arcs of reflected sunlight across his cheeks. “We will take all of their standards and drive the Romans out of our lands. This is just the first of our victories.” He raised the standard and then threw it into the dirt causing gasps from the warriors looking on. “You see now Caros, how easily they can be defeated?”

  Caros looked at the standard laying in the dirt. “That is the standard of their auxiliaries. The only Roman we killed today was the one carrying it.” His back ached and his shoulders were stiffening. “Do you plan to return to camp tonight?”

  Indibilis laughed. “Return? You have not heard then? More Roman legionaries are on their way. They will be here before dusk.”

  Caros was rocked by the news. “You cannot hope to defeat them with the warriors you have here.”

  “I find you are a strange man, Caros. One moment, you deliver the pride of the enemy to my hands, the next you quail at the thought of fighting them.” Indibilis stretched his arms out. “They failed to take the hillfort and even fled when we attacked them. Why should the legionaries defeat us now if we stand and fight them?” He waved down Caros’ response. “No, they will not. We will return to Hanno tomorrow with not one, but two victories. He will read the signs and know that to wait for Hasdrubal would be folly.” Indibilis turned his back on Caros who stepped back stiffly.

  “Perhaps Indibilis is right Caros. We defeated them today in the first battle with them since they have landed.” Simnon was hunched in the shade of a tree, sponging his face with a piece of bloodied linen.

  Maleric had his braccae around his ankles and was gloomily squeezing and testing the bite marks on his thigh.

  “The man that bit me was a Gaul. The men we killed and defeated today were not Romans.” He cursed and flicked away a clot of blood.

  Beaugissa knelt behind Caros, who was stripped to the waist. She was kneading the knotted muscle in his shoulder, alternately using her knuckles and her elbows.

  Caros grunted as he felt another knot crack and loosen. Clenching and unclenching his fist, so that muscles knotted an coiled up his arm, he tested his strength against the fading numbness.

  “The Roman legionaries are nothing like the men we fought today. We do not even know how many are coming.” He tensed as Beaugissa worked her strong fingers into his neck. “We might harry them, but that is all. Indibilis wants to defeat them. He has the Illercavone of the hillfort lapping up his words and they will stay and add their numbers. It won’t be enough.” He placed a hand over Beaugissa’s. “Enough. The stiffness has gone. My thanks.”

  She sat beside him and looked over the scattered enemy corpses laying where they had fallen. First the Ilerget warriors had stripped them of valuables, then the Illercavone and now it was the turn of the swiftest carrion birds.

  “We should fight them. Wherever we find them. They will know that every path they tread on will bear a spear against them. Every shade they rest under, a sword and every stream they drink from, a dagger.” Her voice was hard with conviction.

  “There will be battles enough without seeking out those that we cannot win. Why squander today’s small victory with a great loss when we fail to defeat the legionaries?” He shook his head. “Hasdrubal brings eight thousand seasoned and loyal warriors. They are as hardened and skilled as the legionaries. With them and Hanno’s forces, we can defeat the Romans. To try do so before then will be a costly mistake.”

  Rappo was sitting in the branches of the tree under which they sat and he suddenly stirred.

  “I see them!” He flung a hand out.

  There were more cries from the warriors scattered across the hillside and all eyes turned to the north.

  Caros stood and watched as the legionaries emerged over the summit, their column snaking forward towards the valley and hillfort.

  Cries went up from among the Ilerget. Indibilis was astride his horse and summoning his warriors to him in haste.

  They gathered midway down the hillside in ragged lines. Their horses were tethered on the opposite slope of the hill, out of sight. It seemed Indibilis thought to hold the high ground and force the Romans to fight uphill.

  Beaugissa chose a spear from the handful they had gathered from the dead. She tested its blade with her thumb, eyeing Caros.

  “You owe me nothing. If you wish to fight that is your choice and I will not stand in your way. Any of you.” Caros spoke to her and the rest.

  Maleric stood and drew his braccae up, tying them at his waist with a plaited leather belt. “You will not fight then?” He asked.

  Caros shook his head. “I will not fight, neither can I ride away without witnessing the outcome.” He spat in disgust. His heart wanted to be in the battle, but he doubted he would be able to wield either a spear or his sword for more than a few heartbeats.

  Simnon pulled his shield onto his left arm and lifted a spear. He waited expectantly for Beaugissa who looked longingly at the Ilerget lines. Rappo watched them from where he crouched on a bough of the tree.

  After a long pause, Beaugissa spat into the dirt. “I will not fight.” She looked at Caros. “You led us well today and earned my trust. If you think battle here is unwise, then it must be so.” She nodded and her features softened, a brief smile lighting her eyes.

  Simnon cursed and Maleric hid a grin. Caros felt a flush of relief in his chest.

  “Best we get astride our horses then. I have a feeling this will be a short and bloody battle. Best we are ready.”

  The Roman column never paused as it came on into the valley. Mounted auxiliary rode in small groups along its flanks. Probably the remnants of the force they had fought earlier. Caros estimated the Romans numbered two hundred legionaries with a further hundred mounted auxiliaries. Indibilis’ Ilerget warriors numbered over three hundred still able to fight and were reinforced by just half a hundred Illercavone warriors from the hillfort.

  “Unless more Romans appear it looks like Indibilis has a good position.” Simnon looked longingly at the Iberian warriors now arrayed in a rough rectangle, one hundred men wide and three deep.

  Caros watched the Romans. If more were on the way it did not look like they were waiting for them. Instead, they reacted to the blasts of trumpets and shouted commands, morphing from a column into a shield wall without a break in their stride.

  “That was neatly done.” Maleric mused admiringly. “Will they charge?”

  “I would not. It is a steep slope and rocky.” Caros pointed out. “Their lines would break up and we know well that they prefer to fight together.”

  Simnon spat. “No honor fighting like that. Will none of their leading warriors offer a challenge even?”

  The Roman lines shuffled forward now, dust rising in their wake. They reached the slope of the hill and came on. A hulking Illercavone warrior roared at them, brandishing a spear and shield. Striding bare chested out of the Iberian lines, he called for a champion from among the Romans to meet him. Behind him, the Ilerget and Illercavone howled their approval. Guttural orders were given among the Roman lines and legionaries closed still tighter. The auxiliaries had dismounted and formed a smaller block of men on the left flank. Their lines were similar to those of the Iberians and from them came animated curses and threats.

  Caros turned his attention to Indibilis. The Ilerget leader was still on horseback and rode up and down the rear of his men, shouting curses across their heads at the Romans who were coming into the range of the spear throwers.

  The Illercavone champion, disgusted that none of the enemy would accept his challenge, threw the Romans a vulgar gesture then put his weight into a mighty throw, launching his heavy spear high. It sailed swiftly across the distance and crunched into a Roman shield with a percussive force. An unharmed legionary cursed as the spear lodged in his shield
and with a deft movement fell back to be replaced by the man at his back.

  The act, so calmly done, unhinged the Illercavone champion who drew his heavy falcata with a ringing oath. It was the heaviest blade of its kind Caros could remember seeing and seemed fitting for such a champion. He drummed his blade against his shield three times, bellowing and stamping his sandaled foot into the ground. The warrior made an impressive sight and Caros’ breath caught in his chest.

  Even Maleric was awed. “I bet you there is piss aplenty running down those hairy Roman legs.”

  The Illercavone abruptly set off down the hillside, his war cry echoing across the valley. Indibilis yelled the order to charge, setting the Iberians lurching forward. In a matter of strides, they broke into a run with their war cries and howls filling the air.

  Caros had to unclench his fists, so tight was he gripping the reins

  Simnon glared at Caros, no doubt wishing he were with that unstoppable force.

  The Illercavone warrior reached the Roman line at its center, leaping at the last moment to bring his falcata sweeping down with him onto the legionary he had singled out. The blade crashed down, splitting the Roman shield and taking the man holding it in the head. Blood bloomed in a haze about the scene and then the Romans were coming forward. The Illercavone champion was gone, the gap he had made in their lines closed as though never there. In the heartbeat that followed, a mighty roar issued from the Roman lines then the leading Iberian warriors struck.

  Chapter 11

  Ilerget and Illercavone warriors poured down the hill, their ragged lines disintegrating into a wave of shrieking warriors, shields and blades. They followed the Illercavone champion, buoyed by his courageous charge. The champion soared the last paces, his falcata held high and his shield at a careless angle, like an outstretched wing. With a mighty blow, he split a legionary’s shield and sliced the falcata into the luckless Roman’s helm. Behind him the Iberian warriors roared and increased their pace. His shield batted the Roman to his left, keeping the man’s head down. He wrenched the falcata free even as a gladius flicked out from his right. It took him under the ribs, puncturing skin, muscle and liver. Faster than even the pain, two more gladius drove into his gut and groin. He stumbled on the body of the dead legionary, a red shield filling his vision, the raised bronze boss smashing into his face, snapping cartilage, bone and teeth.