The centurion turned his gaze on Caros who could just make out a pale face beneath the gilded helm and horsehair plume. The Roman walked closer, sandals crunching over the cobbles and bent forward to scrutinize Caros closely.
Seizing the opportunity, Caros heaved forward off his knees, intent on hammering his head into the Roman’s face. Instead, his arms snapped back, and his shoulders wrenched. They had tethered him like a dog. For a moment, the pain froze his breath before rage at his fate broke from his chest in a mighty roar.
“Mars will love this one, yes?” the Roman had not even flinched. He stood back and glanced around. “Optio, we have other matters to attend. Take your men and join the other lads for the morning meal. We will let the barbarians kill their own today. Instruct them to eat their meal and not to harm the captive until the sun has cleared the hills or they will be crucified.”
The optio stiffened and slapped his palm against his cuirass, confusion evident in his eyes. “As you order, Centurion.” He barked a sentence at the Ilerget in pidgin Greek, to which they grunted their assent. Nodding to the centurion, he confirmed, “They will do as ordered, Centurion.”
“Go then, before there is naught left for you fellows.” The centurion gestured to the alley that led away from the yard. The optio led his legionaries out of the yard at a brisk pace, leaving the centurion glaring at the Ilerget warriors.
“Do you speak Latin?” The centurion’s voice rose.
Caros looked up, thinking the Roman was addressing him. For the space of a breath, the Roman’s voice revealed a memory, but then it was gone.
The Ilerget warriors grunted and a heavily bearded man stepped forward, thick cloak draped over broad shoulders and a formidable war spear nestled casually in the crook of his arm.
The Ilerget thumped his cuirass of chain mail and thick fleece padding. “Ilerget! Latin non!”
Unfazed, the centurion pulled two silver coins from within his tunic. Bouncing them lightly in his palm, he offered the Ilerget a bargain he could not refuse, “Two tetra for your cloak.”
The Ilerget warrior looked from the coins to the Roman in expectation, but it was clear he had not understood the Latin words.
The centurion shook his head and buried the coins again. He glanced at Caros. “You are a god-blessed warrior, Caros the Claw. Consider my debt of life to you paid in full.” Without waiting for a response, the Roman turned and left, the clatter of his hobnailed sandals echoing back like blows at Caros.
His knees grew into the rocks as the cold leeched into him. The wind dived over the low walls and buffeted him with cold wings. As his body shivered, his eyes fixed on the mutilated thing that had been Simnon. Slowly, he built his resolve and courage. He worked the fingers of his hands at the tether that kept him leashed.
The Ilerget seemed in no hurry and began by cutting down Simnon’s corpse.
“Your turn next, Bastetani.” The bull-like Ilerget speared Caros with his eyes which tracked to the pooled blood and shit around Simnon’s ankles. “He will shit himself before we get the knots around his throat.”
Caros glanced at the hills, to where the sun was just sliding into sight.
The oldest of them leaned his spear against the low wall and walked around Caros.
“You look at us like we are turds on your hearth, Bastetani.” His voice low and menacing. He put a knee to the ground and stretched an arm towards Caros, in his other hand he gripped his short knife.
Caros let the hand disappear under his chin while he locked eyes on the Ilerget. He felt the brush of fingers on the plaited necklace and amulet bag at his neck. The Ilerget grinned and his eyes flicked down.
With a snarl worthy of a cornered lynx, Caros lunged his head and snapped his teeth at the Ilerget. The man’s shoulders bunched and his arms flapped as he yelped in fright. He bounced onto his rear, dropping his knife and his companions all spun at the commotion. For a heartbeat there was silence, then seeing their fellow unharmed, they began to laugh as men will do at a companion’s small misfortunes.
The older Ilerget dusted his tunic off and collected his knife from among the weeds and rocks. He smiled coldly at Caros, cleaning dirt from beneath his fingernails with the finely honed blade.
“That was well done. We will not be whipping you. No, we are going to gut and flay you. Best you pray that Saur’s hounds take you swiftly because you can be certain my blade will feel like a tongue of flame.”
“Drag the other out of the way. I hear someone coming. I do not want those stinking Romans to find us flapping our jaws like old hags.” He went to the alley by which the Romans had left and cocked an ear.
The sounds of newly awakened village life floated across the oppressive yard between the gusts of wind. Lowing cattle wanting to be milked, squalling infants with empty stomachs, laughing children and scolding mothers. Every sound, a testimony to life and he begrudged them all for soon he would be just another lump of bleeding offal. He growled deeply in sheer frustration.
He had held his tongue so far, but before he was put to the blade, he wanted to learn the fate of Maleric and Neugen.
“My companions, were they killed?”
The eldest Ilerget glanced back, eyebrows knotted in anger. “They escaped. Another day they will not be so fortunate.”
“Another day and your bodies will be rotting in midden piles. They will avenge me. You can take that to your bitch master.” He sneered at them. “Tell me, does she take turns with you or let you service her all at once?”
The Ilerget’s lip curled and his beard bristled. With a growl he stepped towards Caros. “I am going to tear out your tongue, Bastetani.”
Leaning forward, the bull-like warrior reached for the tether at Caros’ back. A breath of movement sped past Caros’ cheek and the drum of an impact filled the yard. A spray of warm mist rained on his cheek and before him the shaft of a throwing spear quivered. The spear had struck the Ilerget in the chest and his eyes were growing wider, even as a gout of blood spilled from the corners of his sagging lips. He slumped to his knees, shaking his head and gripping Caros by the shoulder, his eyes pleaded in one heartbeat and turned flat in the next.
His fellows had not seen the kill, but all the same, they knew the sound of iron cutting deep and the impact of blade against living flesh. In the blink of an eye, they were grabbing up their discarded spears with curses and cries of alarm.
“Ware! We are attacked!” The shortest bellowed.
The Ilerget backed into the center of the small yard, followed in the next moment by a rush of bodies over the eastern wall. No war cries accompanied the assault, just the sound of leather batting against shield and the thudding of heavy sandals on rock. The Ilerget had no time to retrieve their shields which stood tilted together beside the entrance to the cell that had held Caros through the night. Their attackers gave them no chance to. Instead, they struck hard at the Ilerget with their deadly falcatas. A spear shaft splintered, an Ilerget lost a hand and an instant later his throat opened into a gaping wound that drenched his three remaining companions as he spun from the blow, spouting great pulses of blood across them.
The action lasted no longer than it takes a man to empty his bladder. The clash and chime of blade on blade in the first instants of the battle changed to the meatier thuds of blades striking through chain and leather. Of bloody butchery.
In all that time, Caros hung over his bent knees, his head raised and eyes glowering.
The northern wind howled through the trees bent around them, sending splintered branches tumbling and leaves scattering.
Neugen raised his head, peering into the shadows of the forest. “So it was Ensillia’s men that attacked us?”
Caros nodded, his head lowered so his face was pressed into the folds of the cloak he stripped from one of dead Ilerget warriors. It was a fine thick cloak and looked to have been worn only once or twice before, no doubt some sort of gift or payment to the Ilerget by the Romans. It smelled of wood smoke and some exotic scent
.
“I recognized the warrior who captured me by the scar that marked his face, but Simnon confirmed it.” Caros had lifted his face to speak and recognized the trail they rode. They were returning to the encampment and were almost there.
Maleric, who should have looked pleased with himself for rescuing Caros, instead looked morose.
“What troubles you now my friend from the north?”
Maleric grinned sourly. “Just thinking about how quickly I was overcome and forced to flee.” He shook his head in grim acknowledgement.
Neugen hawked and spat so that the wind carried the spittle high. “No good dwelling on it. Look at how quickly we did for those Ilerget!” He smiled wide. “They were not young unblooded warriors either.”
Maleric snorted. “True that. They let their guard down and died for it.” He laughed at Neugen’s expression. “Those bastards knew we would go straight for the ale cart.”
Caros smiled bleakly. “Knew you would go straight for the ale cart.”
Maleric shot him a reproving look. “Did not see you holding back. No, they planned it well, but still it festers.”
Caros shook his head. “Tell me again. You escaped and returned by night. How did you know where to find me?”
“While our warriors secreted themselves in the dark, Neugen and I spent the night poking around.” He paused to watch a party of warriors pass them. Lacetani. They were encountering more and more small groups streaming towards Hanno’s encampment. “About dawn, we heard their tread. Hard to walk quietly with iron studs in your sandals. We followed and walked into a Roman wearing one of those helms all decorated with bristles.” He grimaced. “He had his sword out and at my throat before I could fart.”
Neugen laughed. “Bald truth that, but you farted anyway as I remember.” He winked at Maleric. “He comes around the corner like a lynx, blade steady and without a concern on his face. He looks us up and down and then just points and tells us where to find you.” Neugen shook his head. “Says the debt is repaid.”
Maleric spat. “As if.”
Shaking his head in wonder, Caros recalled how he had spared the life of the Roman centurion all those days past. He whispered a prayer of thanks to Runeovex for that small mercy.
Ahead lay Hanno’s encampment and hopefully Hasdrubal’s forces would arrive in the next day. The presence of the Romans had upended the natural order of power among the tribes and the results were numerous burned villages and hundreds of dead innocents. All within the space of one autumn. If the Romans were still here at the onset of winter, it would get worse.
Chapter 18
With the wind at their backs, they entered the encampment in a drawn out column. Scouts had alerted the encampment and warriors set to guard the approaches. These men stood or sat, wrapped in thick green woven cloaks, around fires they fed constantly. Some raised hands in greeting and others their voices.
“What news, Bastetani?” A bushy bearded fellow called from where he sat stropping a spearhead.
“The Romans send their regards, friend. They wish to embrace that spearhead.” Caros shot back, provoking a ragged cheer in response.
“Ilerget?” Caros asked his companions once they had ridden beyond them.
Neugen scratched his jaw. “Certain of it.” He gestured to the encampment with a jolt of his forehead. “Many of them as well.”
Caros growled. “Send for the rest of the Bastetani. If Indibilis is here Hanno needs to act and it will probably become bloody.”
“I will be glad to see him and his butchers bleed.” Neugen sent a nearby rider clattering down the trail toward the Bastetani lines to bring on the eight hundred men there.
Caros led the column of riders through the wind-swept and morose looking lines. The Ilerget had returned in force, but others were missing. The Illercavone tent lines were gone, pale swathes of pressed grass, a scattering of broken jugs, worn sandals and filth encrusted rags were all that lay where their tents had stood.
“Seems we are not alone in despising Indibilis.” Caros observed. Ahead, Hanno’s pavilion stood in an arc of sunlight that had broken through the scudding clouds above. The Barca symbol glowed on a streaming banner flapping wildly alongside another bearing the blood-red symbol of Tanit.
The Libyan lines were unchanged, the hard inner core of Hanno’s small force. The professional Libyan warriors noticed the column of two hundred approaching and a drum was sounded, and men yelled, their voices deep against the wind.
“They will not let our riders in.” Caros glanced over his shoulder at the Bastetani horsemen. “Agelet! Have the men form up here and beware the Ilerget!”
The Bastetani rider rapped his spear on his shield in acknowledgment and spun to give the orders.
Caros turned back to the Libyan lines where warriors had turned from their afternoon tasks and spilled from tents to present raised shields and leveled spears.
With Maleric on his left and Neugen, his right, Caros walked his horse towards their center.
Farnnut, Commander of the Libyan lines came forward to halt Caros.
“Caros of the Bastetani!” Farnnut’s voice rang like the blow of sword on shield. “Your warriors were not summoned. Send them back to their lines or face Hanno’s anger.”
Caros stared past the Libyan, towards the pavilion. The great flaps were tied shut to keep out the incessant wind, but men were slipping from them, drawn by the uproar. Many wore cloaks of green interwoven with bands of white.
“Yet the Ilerget are summoned!” Caros pointed. “They are snakes who fight only for their own end.”
Farnnut sniffed and twisted his sword hilt, to draw it to Caros’ attention. “They bring three thousand spears. Their numbers make a difference.” He shook his head. “You do not have to like it, but that’s the truth. In any case the Barca decide who our allies are. Not you or I.” He waved his left hand at the Bastetani riders watching stone-faced from just beyond spear throw. “Tell them to go back to their lines, Caros. If the Ilerget become troubled, insulted by your warrior’s presence, it will go badly for all of us and worse for you.” His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped with the implied threat.
Caros rubbed his hand over his chin, made a show of thinking Farnnut’s words through before leaning forward to speak. “They stay. The rest are on the way. Now let me and my companions through to give evidence to Hanno of just how much chaos Indibilis and his lot have caused.”
Farnnut glowered at Caros, the knuckles of his fist tautening about the hilt of his sword.
Caros shook his head. “Let us through. This is for Hanno to hear.”
“Off your horses then. And leave your weapons here.” He raised an eyebrow. “That is not a request, Caros.”
Caros shrugged, looked at Maleric and Neugen, whose faces were tight masks. He nodded at them and they dismounted, unbuckled their belts and hung them over their mounts withers.
With a growl, the Libyan commander turned on his heel and marched straight-back up the track to the Carthaginian pavilion.
Stepping into the pavilion brought immediate relief from the cutting wind, followed at once by a wave of hostility. On his left, stood Indibilis, flanked by two big Ilerget warriors. Arrayed across from Indibilis was Hanno, M’hatmu and a handful of senior Carthaginians.
Maleric and Neugen pushed through the heavy tent flap which fell shut behind them. For a half dozen heartbeats, the only sound was the strumming of the wind through the ropes anchoring the walls and roof of thick hide.
Indibilis’ lips thinned at the sight of Caros and he leaned forward on the balls of his feet. He remained silent though.
Hanno grunted finally and rose from where he sat. He eyed the two men with Caros, noting that none of them were armed. Looking between Caros and Indibilis, he spoke, “You have brought your warriors to our lines, Caros? Why?”
Caros looked at Indibilis, “I have ridden for three days through the Ilerget and Lacetani lands.” He gritted his teeth. “The countryside and villages ar
e afire. Warriors are streaming north. Those are warriors that might have fought beside us.”
The muscles of Hanno’s shoulders bunched with tension. “The Romans are putting the fear of the gods into the tribes.”
With a sneer at Indibilis, Caros rasped, “He is. Everywhere I rode, the people told of the Ilerget warriors attacking them.” He pointed at Indibilis, his hand shaking with fury. “You are using the Roman presence as an excuse to settle old scores. Your warriors are burning those who stand against you.”
Hanno’s face turned cold. “Indibilis has returned here to fight alongside us against the Romans.” He hissed.
Indibilis smirked at Caros. “The Bastetani speaks some truth. Ilerget warriors have been raiding.” He shrugged at Hanno. “Some villages were found to be supporting the Romans. We called on them to turn back to their oaths to the Barcas, given just this spring.” He swiveled on thin hips to face Caros, allowing a furrow to form between his eyes. “We burned and killed only where villages would not heed their oaths. No more than that.”
Hanno nodded his approval and turned his palms up to Caros. “This is no more than we would expect, not so Caros?”
“The Andosinni warriors escorting mere women and children to safety are all dead. Just one man returned and confirmed it was the Ilerget who attacked them. Women, children and allies slaughtered for no good reason. This is not the action of a man we should trust.”
Indibilis gave deep sigh. “As much as it pains me, not all the Ilerget have kept to their oath to the Barcas, but these oath breakers are few. It is these very warriors that my men and I have been hunting and fighting.”
Again Hanno turned to Caros, a silent plea in his eyes.
Maleric shook his head beside Caros, “What of Ensillia?” Dwarfing every warrior there, when he stepped forward, both the Ilerget and Carthaginian sides shifted nervously.
Caros held a hand up before Maleric, halting him. He looked at Indibilis. “Where is she who is your voice here while you are away? Twice her warriors have attacked us.”
Gladius Winter Page 23