Gladius Winter

by J Glenn Bauer

  Maleric grunted as the Iberian warriors hit the Roman shields. Simnon cheered. In places the Iberians drove back shields and stabbed their spears into the bodies exposed in the Roman ranks. Most of the Iberians were stopped hard against the shields of their enemies.

  For a heartbeat there was a rolling thunder of shields and bodies connecting. Then came the moment the Romans struck back. Their gladius punched forward from between and over their shields.

  The warriors at the front were trapped against the shields as their companions continued to pile into them from the rear. The Romans held fast, two men bracing the man in the front rank, giving him the opportunity to drive his gladius forward. Not far. Just the length of a man’s forearm. Far enough to slice open bellies and groins. Enough to puncture bobbing throats.

  Caros felt his shoulder tightening up as he watched the first Iberian warriors die in vain on the Roman blades. Warriors tried to back away, others hacked fruitlessly at shielded Romans. Seeing how the fight was going, some few brave men and women dropped their blades and gripped the enemy shields, trying to tear them free of the legionaries. These warriors were all stabbed repeatedly until they fell dead or lolled lifeless, still upright, crushed between the shields of their killers and their comrades.

  Simnon mewled in horror. He kicked his horse forward a pace or two before realizing the futility. Caros felt a leaden stare and turned. Beaugissa’s eyes were fixed on him.

  “You fought them and won?” She whispered.

  Caros dipped his chin, face pale and heart thudding.

  Maleric spat. “That is what they do. Use those great bloody walls they call shields, to hold brave men up so their goat-shagging cousins can stab them to death.”

  Indibilis raged at his warriors who had become mired against the Roman shields from the safety of his mount at the rear. Caros wanted to scream at the Ilerget leader to draw his men off. Flee to the hillfort, escape over the back wall and take some measure of victory back to Hanno.

  The Ilerget was like a man possessed as he drove his mount at groups of warriors at the rear who had paused or looked to step back.

  The battle took on a new dimension. The auxiliaries on the Roman left were as yet unchallenged and began to edge forward, eager for retribution for their earlier defeat. Caros saw a Roman wearing a helm with a transverse crest, whipping those warriors back into line. Indibilis had spotted the opportunity and Caros could hear his bellowing above the tumult of the battle. Iberian warriors began to respond and in a dozen heartbeats the Ilerget had gathered a hundred men. They wound around the back of the convulsing efforts of their comrades battling the Roman legionaries and with Indibilis leading them, charged the auxiliary lines.

  Caros had begun to suspect that Indibilis was afraid to put himself in harm’s way and he watched with narrowed eyes as the Ilerget leader ran at the Gaelic warriors fighting for Rome.

  “He fights like the hyena and lunges for the weakest.” Rappo shouted in glee. Simnon’s face grew brighter and color rose to Beaugissa’s waxen cheeks. Despite his dislike of the Ilerget, Caros found himself urging the half-sized warrior on.

  Indibilis was no fool and turned his horse before the auxiliaries’ spears could reach him. He skipped from the mount’s back and hit the ground running, his Iberian warriors at his shoulders.

  The auxiliaries did their best to emulate their Roman counterparts, locking shields and bracing themselves to receive the attack. The Ilerget were warier now and reached the auxiliaries in a mass, their shields braced against their left shoulders. The two sides crashed together with a thunderous clap. Indibilis’ side had the advantage of striking down on the auxiliaries thanks to the slope of the hill, and they used it. Spears struck over the auxiliaries shields, stabbing the faces of the men in the second row. The result was that the front row had fewer men to brace it and the bulky Ilerget broke through in heartbeats.

  “There! They have broken their lines!” Simnon cried in joy. “We should go and add our blades!” His eyes sought Caros.

  It was true. In many places now, the Iberians were amongst the ranks of the auxiliaries which were fracturing.

  Caros pointed silently and his companions looked back to the Roman lines. Having dispatched the leading Iberian warriors, the pressure on their shields was lessened and they quickly tramped forward. The Iberians still confronting them were loath to close with the deadly legionaries and backed away instead. A trumpet sounded and in a moment the Romans were moving forward at speed.

  They flowed uphill like a red tide. Groups of Iberians held firm for just heartbeats before being ground down and falling away. Flee or die. There was no way to resist the legionaries.

  Again the trumpet and the Roman lines smoothly turned and became a wedge aimed at the warriors fighting around Indibilis amongst the auxiliaries.

  What had seemed like a victory, instead now looked like a snare closing around the Ilerget’s leading man and his warriors.

  “Caros! Is there nothing we can do?”

  The anguish in Beaugissa’s voice burned him like hot embers. He had no love for the Ilerget leader, but he was an ally.

  “There is nothing…” He paused. “Where is Indibilis’ horn?” He scowled at those around him. “He carried it here on his shoulder.”

  “I saw it. He does not have it with him. Must have left it with horses.” Rappo answered. “Shall I fetch it?”

  “Yes, hurry. Simnon go with him and if anyone questions you, do everything needed to bring the horn.”

  As the two men hauled their mounts around, Caros added, “Oh and get the sentries to bring the herd to closer, but to stay out of sight. Have them ride in circles and raise as much dust as they can.” He stared hard at the pair, conveying the urgency. They nodded and galloped away to the far side of the hill.

  “You plan to signal the retreat? They are trapped already.” Beaugissa questioned, hoping for a better reason.

  “They are and so I must unspring this Roman snare.” Caros shook his head, eyes working over the Roman ranks, planning his move.

  The Romans were advancing with ease now and their auxiliaries, seeing the approach of the legionaries, redoubled their efforts. Indibilis and his men must have noticed them to, for they began to fall back from the auxiliaries. Caros watched grimly as the Gauls fighting for Rome assailed the Ilerget, slowing them down and holding them in place so the Roman wedge could smash into their flank and encircle them. If that happened, and it looked certain it would, Indibilis and the warriors with him would be cut down to the last man.

  “Here they come!” Beaugissa cried.

  It was Rappo alone that came tearing across the hill.

  Caros looked beyond and saw no sign of the herd of horses in the care of their guards.

  He snatched the elaborate Ilerget warhorn from Rappo’s outstretched hand. “Are they bringing the herd?”

  “Yes, Simnon stayed behind to make sure of it.”

  Caros grunted and turned back to the battle. A band of Ilerget and Illercavone warriors had become stranded between the auxiliaries and the Roman wedge. They numbered upward of thirty warriors and they saw their fate. Auxiliaries harried their one side and the Roman wedge bore down on them from the other. They could not flee, the distance out of that iron grip too great. Instead they raised their shields and closed up until their shoulders were rubbing. They brandished spears for the most part while a number had only their hands to fight with, their spears and swords having snapped or twisted.

  “Caros! The horses!” Maleric called, tension thickening his voice.

  Caros darted a look over his shoulder. There was the first shimmering of dust rising above the hillside. Could his plan work? He dared not dwell on it. The outcome if it did not would be the loss of the Ilerget leader most loyal to the Barcas of Carthage. The death or capture of Indibilis might even turn the Ilerget to Rome’s side.

  Caros wasted no more time thinking and raised the bulky warhorn to his lips and blew.

  His first attemp
t forced a long and rumbling bray that washed over the hillside. He drew breath, feeling his lungs expand and his bruises tighten. He blew again, expelling the breath from his lungs in a long, even note through the lips of the warhorn.

  Behind him, dust lifted high over the hillside as three hundred and more horses were brought forward. Would the Romans see it? Would they connect the dust and the deep, sonorous bray of the warhorn?

  He watched through narrowed eyes as he blew again, playing the same deep note, willing it louder and longer.

  “By the gods, Caros! Keep blowing, it is working!” A jubilant Maleric shouted.

  It was. The Roman wedge paused and shifted, moments away from assailing the small band of warriors before it and the larger number fighting to extract themselves from under the blades of the auxiliaries.

  Now the Roman lines reformed as their own trumpeter sounded a command. Effortlessly, the Romans swung about and formed a square. Caros could quite clearly see faces below plumed helms staring his way and seeing behind him the rising dust.

  Beaugissa spoke with awe. “I do not understand. What have you done?”

  The Iberian warriors were not slow to make use of the sudden and unexpected turn of fortune and fought anew to break from the auxiliaries who, for their part were keen to rejoin the Roman lines.

  Ilerget warriors were now falling back from the rear in pairs and groups, dragging injured men with them. More and more broke free of the press as the auxiliaries too fell back.

  “The enemy think a greater force of Ilerget warriors is about to fall on them.” Caros grinned crookedly, panting from his efforts. He gestured at the dust cloud above the riderless horses.

  The Romans were halted now, staring intently uphill. To Caros it felt like many hundreds of pairs of eyes were drilling into him and he felt a burst of wild exultation. Those Iberian warriors who were able to escape had now done so. They trailed as fast as they could uphill and towards the safety of the hillfort, putting as much distance between themselves and their enemies as they could. Already the stragglers were well beyond the range of either javelins or slingshot.

  Caros, Ilerget warhorn still in his right hand, urged his horse down the hill.

  “Caros!” Maleric called. Beaugissa’s voice joined the Gaul’s. “Where are you going?”

  “Stay here. I just need to pass a message to our friends down there.” Smiling wickedly over his shoulder, he galloped downhill, straight at the Roman lines.

  Their faces were bloodied and grim, but undefeated. He noticed their dead or dying were just sparsely scattered amongst the fallen swathes of Iberian warriors.

  Slowing his horse, he raised the warhorn above his head and waved. He hoped he was beyond range of their javelins. He had their attention now. Their scarred shields stood upright at their feet, many of the bronze bosses, dented and blood splattered.

  He drew a breath and expelled it through the warhorn, bellowing mockery over the Romans and their auxiliaries.

  Lowering it, he laughed again and cursed them and the she-dogs that had bred them. His Latin was poor, but his message was received clearly enough.

  A stocky warrior with the familiar transverse crest of rank, heaved and gobbed onto a still gurgling Ilerget warrior bleeding out at his feet. The officer smiled at Caros and pointed at the hillfort. His next gesture, made with his forearm and hips, made it clear what would happen there.

  Caros cocked his head, defiant anger coursing in his veins. He paced closer to the legionaries, who watched unblinking. Now well within striking distance, he kept riding until at just twenty paces from the enemy, he drew up close enough to study the man’s face and form in detail. The irregular pox scars pitting the man’s cheeks, the prominent nose, and even the small winged-penis talisman etched into the skin of his inner arm. He committed every detail of the Roman to memory.

  “Today you can have that hill and its little stone hovels.” He wheeled his horse, keeping his eyes fixed on the Roman. “But know that for every hill you climb, for every trail you walk, every stream you ford, you will bleed and die.” He paused then smiled, allowing his every tooth to show. “And all while Hannibal humps your wives and sisters in Rome.” He laughed and spun his mount again, this time facing away from the Roman, whose face had turned the red of an ember. Curses hissed through the Roman lines and a ripple followed. There were cries for spears and Caros knew he had pricked the beast.

  With a last loud bray of the warhorn, he kicked his horse into a gallop. Behind him the Romans’ iron discipline cracked. He sensed the moment the first of their odd spears lifted to seek him. None found their mark. He rode like a shade, sweeping over the broken ground and up the hill. Some overflew while others clattered into the ground around him or stirred the dust from his tunic. He rode the hillside unscathed, making for the gates of the hillfort.

  At the hillfort the gates had been barred. Panting, Caros called up to the few warriors standing on the crude ramparts. “The Romans will take this village today. Do not dwell, flee! We will wrest it back from them soon enough brothers.”

  “We watched you speak with them. What did you say?” A grizzled, one-eyed man asked incredulously.

  Caros laughed. “I told them we would slay them all, just not today. They did not like that much.”

  The old warrior laughed, gums bleeding. “That all? And they want to kill us for that? Sensitive pricks!”

  “That they are, but they are also angry pricks. I say again, flee. The Barcas will crush them soon enough.”

  “Who by the gods are you, eh? Not one of Indibilis’ lot I can tell.”

  “I am Bastetani, graybeard. My war name is Caros the Claw.”

  “Well named then! I am Old Hub. Too bloody old to run plus I only have one leg. The rest of them are leaving over the back wall. All them that still have two legs and arms. There are some that are too full of holes to go any further. We will die today, them and I. Remember me, Caros the Claw. Remember us all when next you battle those bastards.”

  Caros’ eyes grew warm and he was forced to swallow. Meeting the old warrior’s stare, he nodded. “Good journey then Old Hub. We will swap tales again when we meet in the next life.” He whipped his horse around and galloped away, throat choked.

  He had helped save many warriors, but still more had died. Once Hasdrubal arrived, there would be retribution and vengeance. There was a steep blood price due from the Romans.

  “Caros!” He heard Maleric’s voice over the pounding of his mount’s hooves and slowed. Looking up, he saw the big Gaul waving to him, the others staring. Beyond them the remnants of Indibilis’ Ilerget warriors were mounting up and riding north.

  He turned his horse’s head and pushed it across the hill to join Maleric. Rappo was beaming at him. Beaugissa’s face was tight and Simnon looked blank.

  Maleric shook his head. “You lost your senses? That was a stupid thing to do.” He grunted and smiled widely. “I wager an amphora of grape wine the Romans are going to remember the enemy rider who tricked them out of a certain victory. You no doubt introduced yourself by name to them?”

  Despite himself, Caros grinned back. Beaugissa snorted and shook her head, turning her horse and following after the Ilerget. Caros’ smile withered.

  “They spent a cartful of their fancy spears trying to end me.” He looked after Beaugissa and shrugged. “Did you see Indibilis?”

  Rappo laughed. “The hyena warrior? He leads the flight of his pack. Maybe next time he will listen better when you caution him.”

  Maleric nodded, “Aye, he is alive. Got roughed up and poked a little, but nothing a good ale will not cure. Speaking of which, are we done with all this foolishness for the day?”

  “We are done until Hasdrubal arrives. Indibilis will probably lick his wounds quietly until then.”

  The warrior encampment was in a frenzy when they arrived long after sundown. Fires flickered far and wide. The smoke-filled air thrummed with drum beats and braying horns.

  “Sounds like they
’ve heard the news then.” Simnon spoke.

  “Sounds like.” Caros agreed. “Rappo, make sure there’s a bowl of food for Maleric and I when we return.”

  Maleric grimaced. “Where now? Hanno?”

  “Yes. I must see what news if any he has of Hasdrubal’s arrival.”

  Maleric gave a long-suffering sigh. “Rappo, I expect there to be plenty of ale left as well.”

  The two split off and headed to the command pavilion, passing bare chested warriors drinking and brawling amongst their cook fires. There were women too, many shrieking and drinking along with the men or tending to children and trying to keep them from wandering. Some called to the two riders, asking for more news of the Roman defeat.

  Caros blinked in surprise when he first heard a woman shouting of the death of hundreds of Romans and the flight of the rest.

  “Seems to me we missed the better battle.” Maleric observed dryly.

  “That or Indibilis has a smooth tongue.” Caros felt a thickening sense of apprehension and was glad he’d decided to come straight to Hanno.

  The Libyans were as professional as always and halted them with leveled spears. Ascertaining their identity, they were allowed through to the pavilion where they dismounted and were again forced to wait outside the entrance. From within, came the gabble of many voices and cutting through them the sound of a lyre. A Libyan guard, stepped out and pulled the flap open for them in silence. The air in the pavilion was pungent with incense, roasted meat, wine and body odor. Stepping into the haze from the cool night air, clogged Caros sense of smell and his head reeled. The blow he had taken to his neck had stiffened his shoulders so he took a moment to roll his neck as he gazed at the figures dancing and reeling among the low couches. He spied Hanno, a cup of wine held precariously and an arm slung over Indibilis’ shoulders. Hovering next to them, Ensillia clung to every word that Indibilis uttered and fawned on Hanno.