He rose and poured more ale. “I will speak with Hanno and Hasdrubal. We will not be walked over and they will listen.” He smiled with the confidence he felt little of.
Neugen waved his hand and spat. “In truth, your request for warriors gave me an excuse to get away from endless haggling with the elders and priests.” He made a gesture. “They are all full of shit. I preferred the old days, when things were simple.”
There was a long silence as the men and Beaugissa sat staring into the flames, thoughts lost in the past.
Rousing his renowned good cheer, Neugen began to banter with Maleric with the easy confidence of a man that enjoys the company of others. Simnon sat quietly and rarely contributed or laughed. The Vascon warrior looked disheveled and at one point Neugen turned with a puzzled frown to Caros when a comment he made was growled at. Beaugissa sat beside Simnon and tried to ease his mood, but with little success.
Seeming to tire of their company, the Vascon stumbled to his feet and stumbled off into the night. The mood had darkened and Beaugissa apologized to Neugen and turned in. Maleric was already snoring, his naked legs white in the firelight. Neugen rose to his feet where he swayed a moment. He winked at Caros and gently pulled the half-mended braccae from Maleric’s hand. He examined the poor stitching, grinned and unpicked the lot with his teeth.
Spitting the thread into the embers, he dropped the braccae onto Maleric’s chest with a broad grin.
“Tell him the Romans must have undone it while he was asleep. I had best be off to see what mayhem my lot have caused.” He kicked the sole of Caros’ sandal, knowing it irked him. Caros growled, but was too mellow with ale and meat to stir.
“We might go hunting boar tomorrow.” He grinned. “Rest well, graybeard.”
Caros drew his cloak over him, content to sleep beside the warm fire. The season had cooled and then warmed again, a last valiant attempt by summer to reassert itself.
When next he awoke, he thought Neugen had come to rouse him. The same irritating kick to the bottom of his sandals which he had not bothered to remove.
“The gods!” He cursed, one eye opening enough to tell it was still dark. “Go away, I am still sleeping.”
Another kick landed and a voice whispered against the backdrop of angry shouts in the distance.
Caros noticed there were glowing embers in the fire pit as he threw back his cloak. He must not have been asleep for long and he could just make out a figure crouching at his feet.
“Caros!”
“Neugen? It is still night.”
“We have trouble, old friend.”
Caros glanced around, the encampment was for the greatest part still wrapped in sleep.
Maleric stirred in the darkness nearby. “Romans?”
“Does it look like Romans are storming us? No, it is that Vascon friend of yours.”
A heartbeat later the tent flap shifted and Caros caught Beaugissa’s scent.
“What of him, has he been knifed?” Caros asked, still trying to shake the sleep from his mind.
Neugen harrumphed. “No, he is the wielder and he has killed.”
Beaugissa cursed from nearby. “Who?”
Caros grabbed a handful of brush to throw on the embers, tired of peering into the dark.
“Do not.” Neugen warned. “My fellows are holding him and I would prefer it if no one saw me here.” He took a breath, “He knifed a Libyan, Caros, and for no good reason that I could divine. Hanno will have him flayed slowly before the encampment.”
Beaugissa moaned in distress and slumped to her knees.
Caros rose to a crouch and put a hand out, finding her shoulder in the dark, he squeezed gently. “I am sorry.”
“Caros, what I am saying is it is doubtful anyone knows we have him. If you wish, we could free him and let him flee.”
Caros felt Beaugissa stiffen with hope, while his own heart skipped a beat, but for a different reason. Aiding a murderer escape was not a thing that sat well with him.
Beaugissa sensed his reluctance at once. “You know he is in torment Caros. He nearly cut my throat even though we grew up together.” She gripped his hand. “Please, please allow him to flee. He will go home and get well.”
He was astonished at how easily her words overrode his sense of justice. He remembered the words he shared with Rappo just days ago. The spells women cast on the minds of men.
“Well Caros?” Neugen’s voice whispered from the night. “If we are going to allow him to flee, it needs to be now, long before sunrise. The Libyans are already questioning warriors and by morning they will be watching the roads too.”
Caros freed his hand from Beaugissa’s and rose. “We free him.” His words were aimed at Beaugissa. “Take him back to his home. Let him get well there.”
Beaugissa stood. “I want him to live, but that does not mean I am leaving as well.” Her face, in the meagre glow of stars and embers, held a vulnerability that struck Caros to the core.
She reentered the tent to emerge again after scarce heartbeats, carrying a pack. She thrust it into Neugen’s arms, ducked once more into the tent and came out carrying Simnon’s blades and armor.
“As you said, he needs the cover of dark to make his escape, so lead us to him.”
Neugen turned without a word and Caros followed with Beaugissa silent at his side.
They did not have far to go and Neugen led them unerringly through the dark shadows that blanketed the ground beside the looming tents. Few warriors or women were about. Those that they did encounter, were either drink filled or about deeds as secretive as theirs.
The scent of horse filled the air and Caros could hear the distinctive swish of tails along with the occasional night time whinnying resting horses make.
Neugen slowed and whispered into the dark shadows that haunted the side of a tent and that was itself set close to a tree with thick sagging boughs.
“He is here.” Neugen disappeared into the dark and Beaugissa pushed past Caros to follow. Caros edged into the shadows, wary of the low branches. He crouched beside Neugen while Beaugissa spoke softly, but firmly with Simnon. The Vascon warrior’s breathing was shallow and his voice tormented. Caros could hear little of what the pair spoke of, for they fortunately kept their voices low. Presently, they both moved and Beaugissa patted Caros’ shoulder, “He will go. He says he is overcome by shades and he must find the medicine of our ancestors through our healers.”
Reversing their route, they escorted Simnon to the edge of the encampment, stopping briefly to collect a horse from the Bastetani lines.
No sentries patrolled the outskirts of the encampment, nor did it have any wall or boundary. The tents of the warriors gave way to simple hides strung between trees and shelters built entirely of brush in whose crude comfort the lowliest of the camp followers slept. Beyond the last of these, Beaugissa and Simnon disappeared into the dark leaving Neugen and Caros to wait.
“How did you come to find him?” Caros asked.
“Runeovex’s own luck. I went to the latrines after I left your fire and on the way from them to my tent, saw a Libyan leave one of the more expensive prostitute’s tents. He was just pulling his helm on when Simnon came around the tent. The Libyan said something, laughed and turned his back. I saw the blade flash and before I could part my lips, the murder was over.” Neugen rubbed his hands over his face. “I ran to the Libyan’s side, but his blood was already slowing and he was beyond saving. Your friend just stood there, grinning. That is when I recognized him properly. I called his name and his face plunged into such horror.” Neugen’s voice changed. “What visions could make a man lose his mind so completely?”
Caros looked keenly into the dark, willing Beaugissa to return. “Memories. Not visions, but memories.”
Chapter 16
Caros, half a mind on his own memories, watched Beaugissa appear, head down.
“Thank you, my friend. She would have not taken it well if Simnon had been caught. His punishment would certainly have
been death.”
Neugen grasped Caros by the shoulder and shook him gently. “Speak no more of it. I will see you later.” Neugen’s footsteps receded as Beaugissa stopped in front of Caros.
“He grew up with me, Caros. All my memories as a girl include Simnon.” She laid a hand on his chest, a melancholic smile pulling at her lips. “I can hear my mother chiding him for spilling table oil and see my father teaching him to feather arrows.”
“This is why you protect him.” Caros spoke gently. “You are a warrior, Beaugissa. This is true, but more than that, you are a mother to all those around you.”
Beaugissa’s chin rose so that her face shone under the stars. Her eyes luminous in that soft light, blinked at Caros.
“My sister was a true warrioress. She could hold her own, even against Simnon who loved her and she loved back.
Caros swallowed, tried to lift a hand to stop her, but knew he could not. “I found Simnon standing beside her body. Neither raging nor weeping.” Beaugissa’s voice was as lifeless as her now dead sister. “His moods since have soured to poison.” Without warning, she broke into sobs. Her shoulders convulsed and Caros heard the bleakness in the low sound that escaped her lips. Rocking her gently, he embraced her until she regained herself and stood back.
He lay back on his cot, mind and muscles spent and knew he would sleep deeply. His eyes had barely closed when winter came, bringing with it the Romans. He twisted on his cot, the blankets tightening their hold. Helpless, he lay watching the dark lines in the fog coming closer, their blades piercing the blanket of white that shrouded them and as they did, it cried out.
For the second time in a day he awoke with his foot being kicked. This time he had on no sandals and felt the kick more sharply. He cursed, tore aside his blanket and swung his legs over the side of the cot.
“I am getting a hound. One that will sleep at my feet night and day.” He glared up at the silhouette standing at the foot of the cot.
“The men of the Boii take a wife. You Bastetani have strange ways.” Maleric replied, shaking his head mockingly.
“To rip the holes in anybody trying to waken me without my consent.” Caros smiled at the image and then pointed a finger at Maleric. “I imagine Boii women have no idea of what they could be doing in their cots.”
Maleric smiled, but his mirth was short-lived and he moved further into the tent, his smile dying.
Sunlight dazzled Caros briefly, but he caught the change in Maleric’s expression. “What brings you here?”
“Rappo has returned.” He pointed at his head. “He has taken a serious beating. Says the Andosinni warriors are dead or scattered as are the Lacetani they were escorting.”
Caros growled wordlessly. How much more? “His injuries?” He could see Maleric’s face now, the skin under greasy pale whiskers darkened by dirt and dye. The yellowed whites of his eyes and the kicking tremor beside his squashed nose.
“Bruised, cut and burning with fever. Beaugissa is at his side.” Maleric turned his dark eyes on Caros. “He says the attackers were Ilerget.”
Caros climbed stiffly to his feet, conscious of the aches and protests of his muscles, but feeling more restored than he had in a long while. He glanced towards Beaugissa’s empty cot. Seeing her to the tent in the black of the night gone, her unfamiliar frailty had not tested him so much as it made him all the more determined to protect her.
Dragging on his cloak, he stared out of the tent, “Seems the Ilerget are becoming more than a small thorn.”
Maleric laughed. “There are more sides at play here than an honest man would want.” Shoulders squared, he stepped in front of Caros. “I am just a Gaul as your people so often remind me, but I think you are riding a dead horse here. Fall back, let this madness run its course and then act.”
Caros pushed his arms through the sleeves of his cloak.
“I hear you. Can I, though? Ride away now and let Hanno and Hasdrubal destroy the Romans? The Bastetani would forever be shamed and besides, I need Hasdrubal’s favor to regain those lands stolen by the Turdetani.” He bared his teeth. “Better to fight now. Let the Romans come, we will match them, blade for blade and Runeovex willing, defeat them.”
Rappo was awake and Beaugissa less so. Caros nudged her shoulder with his hip. “Go and lay down.”
She wiped her face and pressed knuckles into her eyes.
“You need anything?” She asked the Masulian.
He shook his head, gingerly. Beaugissa rose, looking up into Caros’ face, letting her features soften before stepping out.
Caros took her place in the sling chair and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Ilerget?”
Rappo rolled his eyes. “Without lies. Near three hundred.” He spilled water from a small cup. Got the rest in his mouth and down his throat. “They cut into the Andosinni, but…” He stopped and blinked rapidly. “They fought hard, but they cared little for plunder or even killing, Caros.”
“How do you mean?”
“They had blades enough and yet I did not see any of their warriors violate a single woman and they could have without risk.” He looked at Caros in bewilderment, his face swollen and yellowed with bruising.
Caros took his hand. “Not sure what that means, but I have a feeling we will know soon enough. In the meantime, you don’t have to worry about cooking any meals or standing watch.”
Rappo’s swollen face twisted with a half-hearted grin.
Outside the tents for the ill and injured, Caros stared inward for a long while. He trusted Rappo’s instincts, despite the indiscretion with the girl and gold. Why had the Ilerget attacked the Lacetani? Surely they had not gone over to the Romans so fully? If they had, then the outlook for Hanno’s forces was bleak, for he was encamped within Ilerget territory.
He placed his helm on his head and begun making his way through the throngs of warriors, women, children and beasts. It was the liveliest part of the day and Caros enjoyed, for a little while, the distractions offered.
“Here, you look hungry! Ox heart.” A portly woman called, turning the sizzling flesh on a brazier. Beside her other vendors traded with Iberian, Balearic and African men and women that made up the warriors of Hanno’s encampment. Caros ignored the ox heart and instead flicked a bronze shekel at a one-legged man hawking skewers of charred fowl.
The man snatched the glint of coin from the air, twisted it between calloused fingers and satisfied, buried it in the folds of faded cloth about his waist.
Caros, meanwhile selected two skewers, avoiding the ones with visible maggots.
“How old is this?” He smelled the charred fowl.
The man, sniffed the produce, flicked away a lethargic maggot and shrugged. “Cooked last night.”
“Never doubted it.” Caros retorted dryly. Biting into the first skewer, he chewed slowly, savoring the warmth of the smoky flesh.
By the time he was finished eating the second skewer, he had arrived at the lines of the Bastetani warriors.
Neugen was amongst a large gathering of boisterous warriors vying to outdo one another in blade games. At that moment, men were competing to see who could cleave the deepest into a felled tree with their sword blades.
Caros grunted when a heavy-set warrior struck the wood awkwardly with his sword. The blade barely cut into the sapwood before twisting and shearing off at the hilt. Neugen looked around and raised an eyebrow at Caros who growled, “Hope there are many better blades.”
“Only two hundred or so have swords.” Neugen admitted. “There are never enough and the Barcas have been hungry for good quality blades since before Sagunt.”
“One less now.” Caros gestured at the warrior who was morosely examining his ruined blade. “Falcatas?”
Neugen smiled. “Twenty. Plus yours.”
Another warrior came forward, brandishing his sword blade proudly. It looked a better affair than the previous one although the decorative hilt had been snapped at some point and reforged.
“Do the rest of the
thousand have spears at least?”
Neugen watched the new warrior set his feet apart and straighten his shoulders, sword held low with the hairy knuckles of his right fist wrapped tight around the hilt.
“At least two hundred have only slings and short knives. Some have bows for what they are worth.” He held his breath as the warrior pivoted and swung his sword in a wide arc. The blade bit true and the men yelled enthusiastically. The swordsman smiled and released the hilt, shaking his arm and wrist to alleviate the tingling.
“He would be dead ten times over if the tree there was a Roman.” Caros growled.
Irritated, Neugen took him by the elbow. “They are here though. That is what you wanted? Now you have an issue with their weapons and how they handle them?”
Caros furrowed his brow and took a breath to reply before he caught himself. He shook his head and smiled. “You are right. Are they up for tracing the tracks of the Romans?”
Neugen looked carefully at Caros, “What do you have in mind.”
“I want to see what the Romans are up to and I want to find a band of Ilerget.” Caros related what had happened to the Lacetani and their Andosinni escort.
“Happy to run down Romans. Or at least shout insults at them from a distance if they are too many.” Neugen smiled. “Less so about hunting Ilerget. This is their land, Caros. They have the right to plunder those traveling through it as they see fit.”
Caros squinted up at the sun shedding a fine warmth from a clear blue sky. “That may be so, but the list of hurts caused by them is adding up.”
“How many riders are you thinking?”
“Two hundred.” He clapped Neugen’s shoulder. “I want to leave today.”
Gladius Winter Page 20