Maleric smiled. “Ah, now this is cozy.” He snatched a jug from a bare breasted woman whose eyes were glazed with drink. Sniffing it, he grunted. “Wine.” Without a thought he upended the jug and poured it down his throat.
Caros saw the Masulian, M’hatmu, wading through the revelers towards him.
“Caros. Greetings.” M’hatmu nodded somberly to him before flicking his eyes at Maleric, who had laid his hands on a roasted fowl. “I had hoped you would come.”
“Greetings M’hatmu. This is for what?” He gestured to the crowded pavilion.
“Indibilis’ honor of course.” The Masulian’s eyes were narrowed as he regarded Caros.
“I see.” Caros looked across the pavilion, bright anger building.
“The fire in your eyes tells me there is another version of today’s victory?”
Caros blinked. “What version, or rather what victory are we speaking of?”
“There was only one engagement fought today. Indibilis gave Hanno, Farnnut and I reason to believe he defeated the Romans.” M’hatmu closed one eye and cocked his head. “The number of warriors he brought home sowed doubt in my mind.” He looked at Maleric again and shrugged. The Gaul was occupied with his meal and drink. “Indibilis is mad for battle and that creature of his, Ensillia, lays words like a trap for Hanno.” He glanced their way and shuddered.
“Indibilis would have been dead or captured along with most of his men if it weren’t for fortune. There was a small victory and he pissed it away trying to bite like a lynx when he is only a ferret.” Caros’ words were heated.
M’hatmu made a placating gesture. “There is little you can say tonight. Hanno had a skinful of wine before Indibilis arrived and he has had more since. Right now, he is drunk twice over. On wine and this so-called victory.” He led Caros to a quieter corner occupied by two prostitutes. Their smiles died as M’hatmu flicked his wrist at them and they quickly vacated the cushions. Caros sat, ignoring the heat left by the two women.
M’hatmu flipped the other cushion over before sitting cross-legged on it. “Indibilis would have us believe he routed five hundred horse and the same number again of legionaries. Tell me what really happened.”
Caros recited all that had occurred, stopping only to eat when Maleric found him and offered him a bowl of shredded fowl. When he had finished, M’hatmu’s face was deadpan.
“This is a dangerous game the Ilerget plays. The Romans outnumber us and it seems have the better warriors, yet he is urging Hanno to attack without Hasdrubal.”
Caros gritted his teeth. “We must make Hanno see it is in his interest to wait for the Barca brother and his warriors.”
“Hanno wants to believe Indibilis. He desires Hannibal’s favor and a victory over the Romans without Hasdrubal’s presence will give him that.”
“Or so he thinks, but he will lose the battle. He will lose the battle and maybe even the war.” Tension boiled through Caros.
“Wait till morning?” M’hatmu cautioned again, standing.
“I will. What of Farnnut? Will he side with Indibilis or us?”
“Difficult to tell. I think he would prefer to wait for Hasdrubal. I am not sure that he will be very forceful about the matter though. He is too proud and will not want to be seen as afraid to do battle.”
“That pride will put him in the center of the line.” Caros muttered caustically. He rose and gave the Masulian a brief nod. “I will be here first thing. See you then?”
“First thing.” M’hatmu declared.
Chapter 12
Rappo greeted them as they arrived at the tent. He was sitting beside the fire, keeping watch over the remnants of the supper. He sprang to his feet the moment he saw Caros and his expression caused a cold weight in Caros’ belly. There was no sign of Simnon nor of Beaugissa.
“Rappo?”
“Caros.” He took a step back and Caros frowned.
“Is it Simnon?”
Maleric cursed, his breath heavy with ale. “What trouble has the goat-brained fool caused now?”
Rappo shook his head, his eyes pleading.
Caros’ glanced at Maleric, alarmed at the youth’s behavior. “What already! Beaugissa? Has something happened to her?”
The tent flap swept aside and Beaugissa stepped into the firelight and stopped protectively beside Rappo.
Far from being reassured, Caros took a step forward, growling.
“It was not his fault, Caros.” Beaugissa stepped between him and the Masulian. “How long did you think you could hide it? Where did you get it?”
Maleric sighed and ambled over to slump down beside the fire.
“It has been taken? I thought I told you to bury it?” Caros’ head swam.
“It has not been taken.” Rappo answered and stepped forward bravely.
Caros glared first at him and then Beaugissa. “I have had too long a day. Out with it.” He sat on a vacant log, hands clenched in fists resting on his knees. Beaugissa glanced at Rappo who had fallen silent. When he failed to lift his face, she looked at Caros.
“Simnon and I left Rappo to look after preparing the meal. I returned and found him showing the coin to a girl.”
Caros took a deep breath and rubbed his face.
“I sent her away at once and we reburied it.” Beaugissa looked uncomfortable.
“Who is she, Rappo?” Caros asked. “The girl you spoke with at the horse pens?”
“Her name is Dora. I am sorry, Caros. I made her swear not to speak of it.”
“I do not care what her name is!” He lowered his voice. “Who is her father?”
Rappo swallowed. “Her mother is Ensillia of the Ilerget.” He bobbed his head, eyes swimming. “She swore she would not speak of it to anybody.”
“Do not hold it against the boy, Caros.” Beaugissa begun, but Rappo spoke sharply over her.
“I have a war name! I am no boy!”
There was a long silence. The encampment of thousands could have been across the seas.
Beaugissa broke the silence. “Why do you have so much? Who does it belong to?” She looked around sharply, suddenly aware of the neighboring tents and groups of warriors sat around fires just like theirs all around. None seemed to be paying attention, and they were not so close as to overhear what was spoken. Still, it paid to stay on guard.
“This is a long story. Rightfully? I swore to deliver it to a good man, an honorable leading man of the Andosinni. I had not anticipated all this happening or I would have done it already.”
She crouched low to better catch his eye. “She will speak of it. To Ensillia no less.”
Rappo cleared his throat, but Maleric threw the bone he had been gnawing at the Masulian. “Stop thinking with your little one-eye. That is what got you into this trouble.”
Beaugissa scowled at Maleric. “Sooner or later someone was bound to discover it.” To Caros, she said, “You still possess it so that is a blessing. Deliver it to the Andosinni. We can ride at first light and be back before Hasdrubal arrives.” She placed a hand over Caros’ fist. “Keep it here longer and there will be blood, Caros.”
He cursed himself for a fool for thinking he could keep so much gold hidden in a camp where thousands lived within spitting distance of one another.
He gave Beaugissa a nod and felt her hand tighten around his before she rose and reentered the tent.
Caros sighed. “Rappo.” He stared at the youth’s face, tight with tension. “You did well in battle today. I will mention that to Hanno. As for your actions with the girl, do not fret. Every man has had a similar spell cast over his mind by a girl.”
Maleric coughed and choked on a mouthful of ale. “He means men will do all kinds of stupid to ride an eager woman.”
Rappo looked from one to the other. “You are mocking me?”
“No son, we are acknowledging that you have manly urges.” Maleric chuckled. “But yes, we are mocking you a little as well.”
Caros groaned. “Maleric?” He threw a clod of
dirt at the Gaul. “Shut up.”
The encampment was never truly silent. The lowing of cattle to feed the many mouths, changing of sentries and the comings and goings of warriors and their kin, ensured a constant backdrop of sound. Caros stood at the mouth of the tent in the purple light of the misty autumn dawn, soaking in the quietest part of the day. Soon the encampment would stir and the new day would bring fresh challenges. Caros filled his chest with the cool air and prepared himself for the first of them.
He smacked his palm against the heavy goat hide tent, raining icy droplets of water down on those still sleeping within. Muffled curses, interspersed with someone breaking wind loudly, followed.
“We have work to do. Rouse yourselves friends.” He called.
Another thunderous fart had Beaugissa cursing. A moment later the woman staggered out the tent.
Caros grinned at her, struck by the softness to her cheeks and lips and envying the man she had loved.
She whipped her hair back from her face and stretched. Her body, firm and supple, her breasts tight against the thin shift she wore. The coolness of the air quickly swelled her nipples and Caros found himself forced to tear his gaze away. Not soon enough to avoid her noticing his stare. The soft lines in her face rearranged into the more familiar patterns of aggression and anger.
“The Gaul is an animal. Between his snoring and breaking wind, I find it miraculous nobody has knifed him. Yet.” She muttered while pulling on her outer clothes.
Rappo emerged into the morning, casting a questioning glance at Caros who smiled back.
Maleric and Simnon were the last to emerge, both looking fragile from the previous night’s excesses.
Caros faced them, two leather satchels filled with gold coins laying at his feet. Hannibal had sent envoys to the larger northern tribes in the spring, ahead of his march north. Caros had been one of these, his task to buy over the tribes and smooth Hannibal’s route north as he marched for Rome. Gualbes of the Aeronosii tribe had treacherously turned after receiving his payment and taken the gold destined for the neighboring Andosini people. With the aid of the Andosini, Caros had overthrown Gualbes who had fled with the gold. Caros swore to the Andosini leading man that he would hunt down Gualbes and return the gold to the Andosini. He had kept part of that oath, hunting down Gualbes and slaying him almost at the walls of Massalia and within sight of the citizens and the Roman legionaries there. Now he planned to fulfill the rest of the oath and return the gold to the tribe it rightfully belonged to.
Keeping his voice low lest a passerby overhear, he told them of the pledge he had made to return the gold and that the time had come to do so. Maleric and Rappo had of course known of the gold and had helped to keep its presence secret as they travelled west. Beaugissa had learned of it the night before while Simnon sat incredulous, hearing of it all for the first time.
“What of the Romans? We cannot just leave now before the battle.” Simnon’s face was growing darker with every heartbeat.
“There will be no battle before Hasdrubal arrives. We will be back before then. To wait even another day means a greater risk of discovery.” Caros answered patiently.
The Vascon growled, frustrated. “You cannot know when battle will happen. You know nothing of the Romans’ plans.”
With uncharacteristic anger, Maleric barked, “Stay then if you think there will be battle. We will ride all the faster without your presence.”
Caros tensed, sure Simnon would erupt with violence. Instead, the warrior nodded.
“I will remain. My oath is to kill these invaders.” He challenged Caros with a glare.
“That is your right, but I would ask you not to speak of our destination.” He glanced at Rappo, “Especially to Ensillia or her daughter.”
Simnon shrugged. “Have no fear.”
Caros studied the man a moment, looking for any hint of deceit. If there was, it was well hidden, not that Caros expected any from a man like Simnon.
“That is settled. Eat now and prepare food for a three-day ride.” The faces of his companions were hooded with apprehension. He attempted to lighten the mood, “I do not know about you, but I would prefer something less stringy than porcupine on this trip.”
“You going to see Hanno?” Maleric asked, rising.
“I am. It is not necessary to come along. The more eyes and swords guarding here the better.”
Maleric nodded, his lips thin.
M’hatmu was waiting outside the pavilion, squatting in the sunshine and chewing a stem of grass. A ring of warriors and women lay outside the pavilion where they had either fallen drunk or been dragged after passing out inside the pavilion. They were Ilerget leading men, followers of Indibilis and had clearly celebrated their false victory long after Caros had left there the previous night.
“Greetings, M’hatmu.” Caros signaled as he passed through the ever-present Libyan cordon.
“Caros.” The Masulian spat the grass stem away and stood. “Hanno has not yet risen. Perhaps now is not the time.”
Caros frowned at him. “No, it is the perfect time. What of Indibilis? Is he here?”
“He may be. I left soon after you.” He stared at the drunken warriors and women in various stages of undress, laying immodestly in the open. “If the Romans fell on us now.” He shook his head.
Caros’ blood ran cold at the thought. “Come. All the more reason to wake Hanno.”
The Carthaginian had at last received them after they had been forced to wait outside while the sun had climbed ever higher in the sky. From within the pavilion, Caros had heard the man retching and cursing. The sounds had brought a thin smile to his lips.
In the still gloomy pavilion, Hanno sat, leaning heavily over his knees, a fine blanket draped across his shoulders.
“Greetings, Hanno.” Caros began.
Hanno waved a hand at him feebly. “Greetings. I could tell you I had a fever, but the stink of wine in here gives away the cause of my illness too readily.”
Caros had been so single-minded that he had not noticed the rank smell of soured wine, congealed fat drippings and other less pleasant odors.
He shrugged. “You are at least up and speaking. There is a host of the Ilerget’s finest laying outside still to experience the after effects of last night.”
Hanno laughed and grimaced, clutching his head. With a deep breath, he rose unsteadily. “I need fresh air. Come.” He stumbled to a rear entrance, beyond hanging veils that partitioned the enormous tent.
Caros and M’hatmu followed the Carthaginian out a rear entrance into a yard framed by the tents of Hanno’s senior warriors and servants. In the light of the morning, Caros saw exactly how pale and swollen Hanno’s face was and hoped the timing was right.
“I would not have come so early except that we must speak of the battle fought yesterday.”
Hanno stood with his head back and eyes closed, breathing deeply. He roused himself to hawk and spit.
“Water. Water!” He shouted. Numerous servants were about, tending to the morning tasks, including two hovering on hand to accommodate any need the commander voiced. One immediately ran over bearing a silver beaker and ladle. He proffered the ladle and Hanno drank deeply before belching and heaving with nausea. Dropping the ladle, he snatched the beaker from the servant and upended it over his head, dousing himself.
“Fetch more.” He tossed the beaker to the servant and turned to Caros and M’hatmu with a frown.
“What of the battle? Indibilis says you fought well against the auxiliaries, but refused to support him when the Romans came.” He rubbed water from his hair and snatching a towel from the second servant to dry his face, sent him to fetch sharbat.
“For good reason. A single Roman legionary is less than a fight for most of our experienced warriors. But one hundred Romans is more than a match for double that number of our own.” Caros accepted the ladle offered to him and sipped the sharbat. The drink was tart and refreshing.
“Yet, Indibilis bested them with
fewer numbers while you watched from a distance.” Hanno, grunted and paused, “I do not doubt your valor Caros, nor your loyalty. Especially not that. I think though that you give the Romans too much status.”
“I have seen them fight and fought them. Indibilis had never until yesterday. He faced two hundred true legionaries and a hundred auxiliaries with four hundred warriors.” He let the numbers sink in and watched Hanno shrug, bemused by his argument.
“And, he lost.” He let each word bite and saw Hanno’s brows dip and crease in confusion. “Indibilis lied to you, Hanno. His men were trapped. There was nothing but death in their futures. Do not…”
“Do not believe the Bastetani!”
Caros and Hanno spun to face the owner of the voice. Ensillia stood glowering at them from the entrance to one of the tents surrounding them. Her milky, protruding eyes were fixed on Caros. Wisps of her thin hair floated about her head and hung across her face. Her body, bloated and pale as a night worm’s, was barely covered by her sleeping shift. Caros’ lips twisted at the sight.
Beside him, M’hatmu hissed to Caros. “Indibilis will not be far. This might become ugly.”
Caros shuddered again at the sight of Ensillia, “Uglier than that?”
Overhearing, Hanno delivered a warning look at Caros before turning to the woman. “With respect, Caros was at the battle and it was one of his companions that captured a Roman standard.” His words were clipped with impatience.
Ensillia stormed from the tent with no regard for modesty, her eyes boring into Caros. “You scheme to replace Indibilis! Yet you bring nothing but a mangy pack of misfit warriors.”
Caros simply stared open-mouthed at her ranting. A moment later two Libyan warriors were before her, blocking her path.
Gladius Winter Page 15