Gladius Winter

by J Glenn Bauer

  Indibilis shrugged nonchalantly. “I am not her keeper, but even so, like me, she holds fast to her oath to the Barcas.” His voice rose as he spoke, strengthening with conviction. “I am grown tired of these accusations. I have three thousand blades behind me to fight for the Barcas.” He turned hard eyes on Hanno. “Do you not see our value? Would you have this Bastetani continue to drag our honor through the dirt? If so, I will ride away this day and not return.”

  Caros hissed at the threat, but Hanno’s fury had escalated and the Carthaginian’s voice rose to a roar. “Enough of this! We are all of us allies and oath-sworn to the Barcas. Our enemy is Rome. Let us never lose sight of that.” His glare centered on Caros.

  Behind him, M’hatmu caught Caros’ eye and the Masulian shook his head discreetly.

  Caros stared from Hanno to Indibilis. He had spoken and his words were to be ignored. The number of warriors Indibilis brought blinded Hanno to the danger the man posed. He clenched his jaws, nostrils flared before dipping his chin in acquiescence.

  Hanno’s shoulders loosened a fraction. “Hasdrubal’s messengers have told he is delayed. Carpetani warriors broke their truce and sacked two silver mines. He has routed them, but lost time. He will still be days in getting here.” Hanno shrunk and folded onto a stool. “Wine!” He clicked his fingers impatiently. A servant delivered a cup of the refreshment into Hanno’s hand. The Carthaginian guzzled it down in just two long draughts before wiping his lips with the back of a wrist.

  His eyes shone bright when he looked up. “I have made a decision. Too many warriors are slipping away. Each night, more pack up and leave.” He flung the cup at a brazier. “It is time we ended this and marched on the accursed Romans.”

  The words sent blades of ice down Caros’ back while Indibilis’ scrawny chest inflated like a rock pigeon’s and an arrogant smile grew on his face. Looking back at Hanno, Caros saw the wild look in the man’s eyes for what it really was. Fear.

  Cheers began amongst the leading men and somewhere drums began to beat accompanied by the chilling chants of Ba’al’s priests.

  Caros rocked on his heels. Indibilis had forced Hanno’s hand by weakening his hold on the oaths of the warriors. Rather than allow his numbers to melt away, he was forced into a battle he was unprepared for in every way.

  Farnnut approached, his face grim. “Hanno asks that you ready your warriors. You will have the honor of leading the vanguard tomorrow. He expects you to begin preparations at once.” The Libyan had the grace at least to look embarrassed at the veiled dismissal.

  With a face of granite, Caros turned and elbowed his way roughly from the pavilion, Maleric and Neugen on his heels.

  “They can shove their honor right up their Ba’al worshipping assholes!” The normally good-humored Neugen swore.

  Maleric shook his head. “That was poorly done. If the Carthaginian fights as badly as he handled that, we would be better off riding west or south.”

  Caros pulled his cloak tight. The wind hand fallen with the setting sun, but it was still frigid out. The cold help clear his head and lessen the rage. Maleric’s words registered, but he could not ride away. Even now.

  “We stay.” His voice was quiet and did not carry. “We will stay. Runeovex will guide us and we will find a way to settle this.”

  Neugen swore. “You will lead a thousand Bastetani to their deaths? Sagunt was not enough for you? Nor the Tagus where the river ran red for days with the blood of our own people?”

  “Yes, Neugen, I will lead them and because I lead them, it will not be to their deaths.” His voice and expression silenced more talk.

  Beaugissa took the news of Simnon’s death in silence. She sat on her cot in their tent, rubbing beeswax robbed from a wild hive, into a winter cloak draped over her knees.

  She had made to rise when Caros entered, but he had cut off her happy greeting before it left her lips. Into that silence he had spoken the three words.

  “Simnon is killed.”

  Rappo sat up straight in the gloom at the back of the tent, eyes white.

  Beaugissa stared in confusion for heartbeats, eyes blinking rapidly. Her expression turned bleak and she dipped her chin. Rubbing the sticky wax between her fingers she asked, “How?”

  “Taken by the Ilerget. They delivered him to the Romans.” Her body gave an involuntary shudder. “They did not set him on a cross, but it was no easy death.” Caros dropped to a knee before her, felt her draw back from him.

  “His last wish was that you be safe. Hanno marches us into battle tomorrow. It is one that I am certain we will lose. Can you honor Simnon’s wish and ride home instead?”

  Her palm was calloused and hard, her arm roped with muscles, not unlike a young warrior’s before hair sprouted on his jaw and his muscles swelled. The slap rocked Caros’ head setting him back on his haunches.

  Wiping blood from his lip, he watched her in the gloom, saw her shoulders rising and falling with short gasps.

  “How do I keep you from harm then? If you will not ride away…”

  She spoke over him. “You have fought and defeated them. How? It seems that every time you stand against them you come away alive and they end up as Shades. Show us Caros. Show us what you have done to earn the favor of Runeovex so that we can end these Romans.”

  He stood, her words running wild through his thoughts. Could they win? Was there a way?

  Beaugissa had risen silently, her face shadowed in the low glimmer of a lamp guttering on the floor beside her cot. He smelled her hair, the trace of womanhood and the salt of freshly shed tears. It was an overwhelming mixture, and he stepped closer to her, his blood aroused. Her eyes burned with the same need, but her chin turned away and she shook her head minutely. She was claimed.

  Caros stepped back, his body alive with needs he had not slaked for a long season.

  “I will do my best. We ride on the morrow and Hanno has ordered me to lead the Bastetani at the vanguard.”

  The following dawn saw the Bastetani folding away tents, packing provisions and strapping on equipment. They had just three wagons in which to pack provisions for the thousand warriors. In no time, leading men began to curse in frustration as it became obvious there was not enough room for all their provisions. Caros watched silently as Neugen barked for the equipment to be resorted and repacked so that only the most essential items were loaded.

  Spare horses were loaded with sacks of food and men and woman packed more onto their shoulders. There was still no room for the tents and Neugen reluctantly ordered them to be left behind.

  “It is going to be cold as Orco’s balls. If it rains, there will be fever.” Neugen complained as they filed past the discarded equipment.

  “Food is a priority.” Caros muttered, his eyes on the Bastetani filing out of the encampment. There was no braying laughter, cheering or jesting. It reeked of defeat.

  None of the Carthaginian command was there to see them off. Apart from M’hatmu who had come with a small group of riders.

  “Greetings, Caros.”

  “M’hatmu. Our orders?” Caros was in no mood for pleasantries. Not this morning.

  “Take the road to Cissa. The Romans are advancing south and we plan to meet them north of there.”

  Maleric edged his horse closer. “So why are the rest of you still snug in your cots?”

  M’hatmu pulled his wrapped linen headscarf down over his ears against the cold. “We will be behind you. There are two thousand men guarding Cissa. They are led by Farnnut’s nephew, Jabari the Gyptos.” M’hatmu produced a small pouch with the Barca seal etched into the cured hide. “Give this to Jabari.”

  Caros took the pouch and threaded it to the thong around his neck before squeezing it down beneath the leather and chain cuirass he wore.

  “How far behind us will you be?” He asked.

  “Half a day.”

  Neugen and Maleric snorted.

  M’hatmu turned, his eyes weary. “If the Romans threaten Cissa, burn it to cind
ers.” M’hatmu waited for a heartbeat and nodded when Caros remained silent.

  “We will fight together soon, Caros the Claw.”

  “I am not burning Cissa, Caros. That fellow can say what he likes. I am no bloody-mouthed Gaul.” He flicked a look at Maleric. “No offence.”

  Maleric turned a baleful expression on Neugen. “You will know when I am offended Bastetani.”

  Caros turned his horse and signaled to the horsemen to move up and spread out around the marching warriors.

  The mood was perilous with tension and he needed to get the Bastetani away from the glare of the Ilerget and Libyans.

  “The two of you going to behave or do we need to settle this with bloodletting now so that I lose another good man?”

  Maleric glowered for a moment and Neugen rubbed his face in exasperation.

  “There are bigger things at stake here than your pride. We will burn Cissa if necessary, Neugen.” He gestured to Rappo and Beaugissa to hold off at a distance as they approached. “Maleric, being a bloody-mouthed Gaul is exactly what I need you to be in the next days.”

  Maleric smiled. “I can be that.” He kicked hard at Neugen, hooked a foot beneath his knee and lifted him. Taken by surprise, Neugen tumbled off his mount which reared and pranced away. He rolled to his feet with a snarl, hand dragging at his blade. He stopped.

  Maleric was laughing. “Good trick, hey? Rappo taught me.”

  Caros ducked his chin to hide his own sudden smile while Neugen shook his head, anger fading like smoke from his eyes.

  “Not too bad. Bloody Rappo is a bad influence.”

  The poisonous mood drained away and Caros waved Rappo and Beaugissa forward, their expressions bemused.

  “And?” Caros asked.

  Rappo nodded. “Yes. I know where they are.”

  “Good, let us ride then.”

  The day warmed as the clouds broke apart and the sun strengthened. It was a good warmth that sunk through a man’s skin and reached his blood. On the trail, the warriors felt the change and men and women began to sing and laugh again.

  Rappo slowed his pace as they passed beneath a cliff. His eyes lit up and he pointed to a crude wall of stone built to gather sweet spring water at the base of the cliff.

  “This is the first marker. There will be a trail beyond the cliff leading inland. We take that.”

  Caros nodded, put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Neugen riding a stade ahead, turned back.

  “See something?”

  “I want all but a score of our horsemen to gather. The others should keep scouting for our warriors on foot.”

  “Where shall they gather?”

  “A trail branches off to the left ahead a ways. Meet us there.”

  Neugen nodded and rode off to collect the scattered groups of horsemen from where they formed a widespread protective screen for the column of marching warriors.

  The trail was rutted and steep where they found it. Rappo nodded to Caros.

  Neugen could not contain his curiosity any longer. “What are we doing?”

  Caros gave a hard smile. “At the end of this trail I hope to find Ensillia and her band of warriors.”

  “How do you…” Neugen glanced at Rappo. “You and Beaugissa were gone this morning. You found out? From whom?”

  Rappo frowned. “I spoke with Dora, her daughter. She has no love for Ensillia.” Rappo’s face clouded. “Dora told me of the things Ensillia expects her to do with graybeards… that sickened me.”

  “One more arrow to be shot into Ensillia’s foul heart

  Caros looked at Beaugissa who laughed. “It was a simple thing to distract her guards.” She pushed her chest forward and winked suggestively.

  The Bastetani riders began to arrive in groups and then a great mass until all two hundred were arrayed there.

  Rappo led them unerringly up the track and on, marking off the landmarks Ensillia’s daughter Dora had described.

  The sun reached its zenith when Rappo turned on his mount and held up his spears.

  Caros reined in and let the column of riders come together while Rappo went ahead alone.

  They were on the southern edge of a plateau just a half stadia wide. The northern edge fell away sharply and Rappo dismounted to scramble on hands and knees to the lip, using an outgrowth of bushes to mask himself. Caros watched him, his right hand gripping a war spear tightly, shield already in place on his left arm. Heartbeats passed. A warrior banged his spear shaft absently against his shield and was hushed by half a dozen fellows. At last, Rappo edged backwards, rolled over and darted back to his mount.

  He gestured to Caros who grinned. “In a line now. Fifty men wide.”

  The riders fanned out fifty wide, four deep and advanced at a walk behind Caros.

  Caros leaned to his right, lifted Beaugissa’s shield arm and pressed it closer to her body. She rolled her eyes, but kept the shield closer.

  Rappo fell in beside Caros on his left, teeth white in his face. “Most are resting. There are scattered sentries, but…”

  Caros saw for himself in another few paces as he pulled on his reins to halt the horse at the lip in the ground. The ground fell away before them, revealing a gentle fold in the plateau which made a fine place for a camp. A few trees around a small pool of clear water, plenty of grazing for horses and gentle sunshine. Scattered in small groups were Ensillia’s warriors, most laying on their backs taking in the warm sunshine. Some sparred, a few others mended kit or talked. A single tent was propped up beneath a twisted tree, half of which was skeletal branches, the other half shrouded in late autumn colors.

  Caros glanced to his left and right. The Bastetani riders were now poised on the ground overlooking the camp. Just one sentry placed here would have spotted them in time to alert the rest of Ensillia’s warriors. Instead, the sentries stood in pairs just twenty paces from their resting companions, enabling them to engage in any banter.

  A pair of sentries saw the line of horsemen at the same time, their jaws dropping and eyes snapping wide. For a heartbeat, the breeze dropped, as though the sky held its breath.

  Caros lifted his spear, its great blade scattering sparks of reflected light.

  “Bastetani!” He roared, digging his heels into his mount’s flanks. Like a storm of thunder, the Bastetani riders leaped from the lip and crashed down the slope.

  Fifty paces away the sentries finally screamed, turning and fleeing towards their roused and scrambling companions. The sentries leaped waking men, shedding shields and weapons. Other warriors stood in shock before they swooped for discarded spears. Too late.

  Caros couched his spear along his right forearm and leaned into the first kill, opening the neck of a warrior who stood gape-mouthed. The man’s flesh offered no resistance and Caros was able to drive his spear through the face of a roaring Ilerget who brandished a falcata. Twisting the spear as he struck, he avoided driving it into the man’s skull and possibly losing the spearhead to a snapped shaft. The warrior screamed and fell away behind Caros, his body driven into the ground by the mounts tight behind.

  A handful of Ilerget managed to form a huddle with spears bristling along their front.

  Caros turned to his right, angling his horse to force Beaugissa to slide away from that danger. As he did so, he hurled the heavy spear which flew deep into the group of men, prompting a groan of pain and despair. More spears flew at the little group and suddenly it was falling apart, a bloodied and dying thing.

  Turning his attention to the lone tent, he drew his falcata. He galloped towards the tent and slid from the horse’s back. Gripping tight the reins as the horse slowed, he raced alongside it for three paces before he sprang at the pair of warriors dragging a figure from the tent opening.

  They saw him coming and snarled, pushing Ensillia to the ground and turning their spears on him.

  He lifted his shield, knocked aside one spear and hacked powerfully at the second, severing the shaft at the neck. He felt a blow on his back, but the ch
ain and leather stopped the blade and the thick padding beneath absorbed the impact. He spun low, his arm slicing his blade backwards, taking that warrior’s right leg above the knee.

  A guttural scream and stamping of hooves brought Beaugissa into the fray, her spear as yet, unbloodied. She drove it at the remaining warrior who responded by striking her mount in the face with his spear shaft, sending the horse rearing. Beaugissa slid and jumped from its back. She tripped over a splintered shield and stumbled to her knees at the feet of the warrior who had already drawn his falcata. He roared and lifted it high.

  Like a lynx, she snarled at him and drove forward from the ground, her spear taking him in the gut, driving him back even as he brought his blade down.

  Caros lunged forward and blocked the warrior’s blade with his own, feeling sparks of pain from the weight of the blow. Beaugissa screeched, set her right leg and thrust the spear still harder. The sound of ripping chain and leather cut through her victory cry when her spear blade pierced the Ilerget’s armor and burrowed deep into his vitals. Blood surged in a dark flood down the spear shaft. It reached her hands and painted her arms red to the elbows. Her grip faltered and slipped and she fell back with a hoarse cry.

  Caros caught her between his left arm and his chest, pulled her close and set the point of his blade under Ensillia’s chin where she lay curled and keening in fear.

  Cries of anger, pain and despair circled them as the Bastetani’s shock attack overwhelmed the fleeing Ilerget. Few reached their mounts, less drew a blade and none landed a mortal blow on a single Bastetani. It was a clean victory and Ensillia was captured.

  Caros stepped back from her and sheathed his blade. He still held Beaugissa, her body warm and tightly folded against his. He breathed in the scent that rose from her head where she rested it on his chest.

  The sound of pounding hooves and singing blades died away, leaving only the nerve grating keening of the Ilerget woman lying beside her fallen guards.