Gladius Winter

by J Glenn Bauer

  Dubgetious caught Caros’ eye, smiled and rose. “You all know who I am. I prefer fighting to jabbering, so unless you want me to spout a lot of pretty words,” He twisted around, held high a cup of ale and spoke, “I say we treat with the Sedetani!” He tossed his head back and downed the ale before sending the cup flying into the fire.

  Chapter 22

  Winter’s cold cleared the air and lifted the sun, unsmudged, from the east. Warriors pulled on undershirts and tunics. Many wore knee-length braccae. They wrapped or pulled on thick coats of padded linen to wear beneath their leather armor. Those more fortunate, wore chain linked armor or bronze disc armor. They wrapped their lower legs with long strips of linen or leather and tied their sandals on over this meagre protection. There was a biting chill in the air, but it was dry and so they did not mind.

  Caros dressed in all the trappings of war while his eyes tracked the galloping messengers and scouts that rode the track from north to south. Hanno and the main force of his warriors were just a few stade north west. The Romans were beyond Hanno and as yet the main Roman army had not been sighted. That would change at any moment.

  “Eating?” Beaugissa lifted a bowl of porridge.

  Caros shook his head and then changed his mind. The sun was still red in the east and many of the Bastetani were only now dressing and eating. There was time.

  He crouched beside the Vascon woman. “My thanks.” He smiled at her and she returned it. “Not really hungry, but there may not be another meal for a while.”

  Neugen lifted his bowl, “Let us get you on your horse and have you give a nice rousing speech like that.”

  The company chuckled and Caros shrugged, spooning up the food and savoring the warmth it brought.

  “So today we fight the Roman army.” Neugen said in wonder.

  “And just for that, it is already a great day.” Beaugissa bared her teeth.

  Neugen looked at her appraisingly. “I just wonder what Hannibal would do? Hanno and Indibilis? They do not fill me with confidence.”

  Rappo stacked empty bowls, ready to take them for washing.

  “Forget the bowls.” Caros said. “You have spears? Your horse is well?”

  Rappo put the bowls down with a grin. “My quiver is full, my arm is eager and my horse is ready, Caros the Claw.”

  Caros finished his porridge and tossed the rough wooden bowl into the cook fire. “Good. I want you riding with Agelet and his warriors.” He stood and clapped the boy’s shoulder. “Go now. He expects you.” Caros watched Rappo’s eyes widen and his breath quicken.

  “Thank you. You are a great warrior. I will see you crush handfuls of the enemy today.” Rappo backed up a pace and took up his small pack and quiver of spears. “Fight brave my friends.”

  Beaugissa rose and clutched him tightly to her bosom while he stood awkwardly, unable to return the embrace with his arms encumbered. She pushed him away suddenly and turned to gather her shield and belt.

  “Go to Cissa.” Caros called after the young Masulian who looked back at him questioningly. “If the Romans overcome us. Go to Cissa and we will regather there.”

  The scouts returned not very long after they rode out. Beaugissa raised an arm. “Rider!”

  The figure had crested a hill on their left from the north and began riding down a steep gradient towards them. A heartbeat later more men appeared and followed.

  Caros lifted his arm and behind him, more than a thousand warriors slowed and closed ranks.

  Neugen, ever the one with the sharpest eyes, called out. “They are ours!”

  “All of them?” Caros counted twelve riders.

  “All of them.” He looked at Caros, eyes grave.

  “What?” Beaugissa snapped her head between the men.

  Maleric answered in his gravelly voice. “They have found the enemy. Close by it seems.”

  Her eyes fastened on Caros, seeking answers.

  He stayed tight lipped, but his mind was racing. The first scout hit level terrain and immediately raced his way, dragging his mount around in front of the company.

  “Rome! All her warriors are here.” The Bastetani rider was excited and stammering with urgency.

  Neugen grabbed the rider’s mount by the rope halter. “Slow up. You have seen the Roman legionaries?”

  “Yes.” The rider dipped his head deeply before pointing his spear north. “The next valley over. They are marching east towards all our army.”

  “Does Hanno know?” Caros asked.

  A clatter of hooves and a wave of dust arrived with the rest of the scouts. Their man laughed at the others.

  “I was first!” He crowed, evidently having raced the others to deliver the news.

  Caros waved away dust from his face. “Does Hanno know?” He repeated his question patiently.

  “Yes! Hanno’s army is turned towards the Romans. They will surely clash before the sun moves four fingers across the sky.”

  Caros glanced at his companions who looked on, eyes alive with the merciless recollections of battle.

  Neugen’s eyelids drooped and then he cursed with feeling. “We are out of place. It could be over by the time we arrive.”

  Caros chopped his hand down. “No, we will be there to see the battle begin.” He turned to the scouts who had calmed and now watched him. “What of the Roman horse? Did you see them?”

  “We did! They were on the Romans’ north, holding back. Some made to come after us, but turned back as soon as we veered away.”

  “No scouts on their south?” Caros held his breath. The riders conferred and decided there were not. The Romans held their horse on the north while the only other riders were the Roman commanders and their retinue of messengers needed to carry messages to the Roman lines.

  “We are unmarked then. That is in our favor.” Caros thanked Runeovex for this boon. “Go, all of you and keep eyes on our left. If the Romans turn this way let us know. The same if battle is joined.” He studied the range of hills on their left flank. They needed to march east along these hills and then turn north to join Hanno’s left flank.

  “Two of you are to ride ahead and mark for us where to turn north so that we are sure we are joining Hanno’s flank and not running into a host of Roman legionaries. Understood?”

  “I and my brother will do this.” The first rider announced, still buoyant from reaching Caros with the news ahead of the others.

  The scouts dispersed, whoops and jeers loud over the rumble of hooves.

  Caros smiled around at the companions and turned to the rest of the warriors. The graybeards had all come forward to hear the news and Caros outlined his plan to them. They looked on silently and nodded briefly as he made his points.

  When he was done, they returned to their warriors and Caros smiled at the single warrior remaining.

  “Hercle, the Bastetani and the Sedetani fight as one today. Your men will draw first blood. Only this time, that blood will be Roman, not crow.”

  Beaugissa hissed. “Not a lot of difference when you think of it.”

  “The Sedetani are honored. We will prove our worth.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” Caros pointed east. “Take your men and women ahead of the rest so that you can choose ground that best suits your purpose.”

  Hercle nodded and placed two fingers in his mouth to emit a piercing whistle three times over. At once, the Sedetani warriors rose from where they had gathered and began to jog forward, passing the Bastetani and other assorted warriors that had joined with them in the last two days. Again, comradely jeers and taunts were exchanged and then the Sedetani were past and heading east, their lack of armor allowing them to cover the ground with ease.

  Caros and his companions rode at the tail of the Sedetani while the Bastetani warriors came on behind. The day was cloudless and remained cool even as the sun rose higher. If no clouds came from the north or east, the night would be crisp and clear. A fine night to celebrate victory. A fine night to live to see.

  Beau
gissa surprised even Neugen by spotting the pair of scouts first. They had positioned themselves in the shade of a stand of bush around two lightning fractured trees on the spine of the hills overlooking the trail.

  The Sedetani ahead slowed and Caros urged his mount forward at a canter.

  There was no discernable trail up the hill at that point, but it was a simple enough climb to the top.

  Caros dismounted beside Hercle. “Beyond this hill, we will find Hanno’s forces arrayed for battle.”

  His companions joined him and leaving their mounts, they began toiling up the hill while the Sedetani raced upward, surefooted and agile. Each Sedetani warrior had a sling wound over his or her shoulder, while at their waists hung two bags of selected stones and even lead shot.

  The hill seemed to never end and Caros found himself panting by the time he reached the scouts who sat immobile, only their jaws moving as they chewed on mouthfuls of sun dried meat. Their eyes were fixed on the valley beyond and whatever it held.

  Finally, he reached the hilltop and saw what awaited them. The sight dried his mouth and curdled his stomach. He stopped in his tracks and stared. His companions came up alongside him and halted abruptly, rooted to the ground by the sight.

  The valley was a wide, flat plain that stretched for ten stade beyond the foot of the hillside. On the right, Hanno’s forces were flowing into ranked lines. The Libyans in their chain armor and polished helms were already in place in the very center of Hanno’s lines. They stood like a granite boulder amidst a surging tide of duns, ochres, greens and reds. The Ilerget, dismounted and in a semblance of ranks held the far left flank on the north. At the foot of the hill, closest to Caros, were the amalgamated warriors of Africa, the Gyptos and Phoenicians. These were bolstered by the warriors of various Iberian tribes that had given their word to the Barcas. It looked a formidable force, Caros thought. It was a formidable force. Nothing like the great numbers of blades that had been assembled on the Tagus or at Sagunt, but a huge gathering of warriors all the same.

  However, when Caros looked to the west, he couldn’t help but think they were doomed. For there, loomed a real army. The Romans. The iron-hard legionaries that swept all before them. Their lines formed into rectangles. Their colors unmuted and stark against the winter landscape.

  Twenty thousand swords. A gladius winter. The front ranks of the Romans were just a single stade of bare dirt away from the undaunted Libyan warriors, whose numbers they dwarfed many times over.

  A crow called raucously from the branches of the trees on the spine of the hill above him, bringing his thoughts to a narrowed focus.

  The Sedetani had paused after cresting the hill and flowing down it just a few paces. Hercle, at their front had turned to Caros, an unreadable expression on his face.

  Drawing a deep breath, Caros squared his shoulders and descended the hill, passing through the Sedetani who stood mesmerized by the Roman legions.

  “Hercle, it is a good thing the hill is so rocky. I think perhaps your slingshot will be used up in no time against that horde.”

  The Sedetani warrior kicked the ground, dislodging a stone and bent quickly to scoop it up.

  He smiled at Caros and fitted it to the sling. “Then to Orko, god of mountain and rock, I offer the first kill.” He hefted the sling, weighing the missile expertly. Aware of the many warriors watching, he raised his voice. “May Orco guide this stone and all the rest to the brows of our enemy.”

  “Well said! What of the land? It suits?”

  The Sedetani grinned widely. “If we keep to this flank and hold the higher ground, the Romans will fall like hail-felled grain.”

  “Then that is what you must do. I and my Bastetani will hold the ground at the foot of the hill for as long as it takes for you to empty your pouches of stones and then strip this hill bare of any rock that can be loosed upon the enemy.”

  Maleric had approached, his face stern. “Then we had best begin because if I am not mistaken, the Romans have warriors climbing this same hillside above their flank.”

  Caros looked west and saw at once the figures of dozens of Romans scurrying onto the hillside.

  “We will take them easily enough.” Hercle announced.

  “Hold. That may be, but not until the Bastetani are in position below and to your rear.” Caros commanded. “Neugen?” He turned to find Neugen looking bleakly at the Roman host. “Signal our warriors to approach.”

  Neugen tore his gaze from the Romans and grunted his assent before making his way up to the scouts.

  Caros took the time to examine not just the Romans, but Hanno’s positions. The Barca alliance was centered around the professional Libyan ranks led by the taciturn Farnnut. In the distance, Caros could see M’hatmu’s thousand riders shadowing the Roman horse on the right flank.

  To the rear of Hanno’s lines, Caros could make out the colorful pavilion set where the Carthaginian had spent the night. Around it were lines of wagons, still unhitched while the mules, oxen and even spare mounts formed herds some distance beyond.

  Trumpets bleated from the Roman lines, beginning at the center and washing outwards. The whole mass of Roman legionaries shimmered as they straightened, but as yet they remained in position. Instead, hundreds of lightly armed Romans filtered through the rigid ranks, making for the open ground between the two opposing armies.

  A deep bass drumbeat sounded from the Barca side. Moments later, a growl lifted from the thousands of warriors and they lurched forward.

  “Our warriors, Caros. Where to?”

  He turned his attention from the field of battle and lifted his spear. “Bastetani! Today we fight the mother of all battles! Be bold and be skilled. Remember the color of Roman blood and the sounds of their dying!” The Bastetani cheered and beat spears on their shields.

  “Sword bearers to the front! Spears behind! Come!”

  He led the warriors in a quick run down the hill, his eyes now on the mass of allied warriors on the nearest flank. These were twisting their heads between the Romans and the Bastetani, trying to decide who was the most immediate threat.

  “Bastetani for the Barcas!” Caros called as he neared the ragged lines of wild warriors whose spears were turning to point his way.

  He drew up and halted the Bastetani just out of skewering range of the first rank of spears.

  “I am Caros the Claw, a friend of Hannibal Barca and here to kill Romans at your side! Will you make space for our spears?”

  A wiry warrior, well-armed with a war spear, falcata and a new shield, raised his spear in salute.

  “Naoes Long Knife of the Turdetani! Greetings, Caros the Claw. You are welcome to fight beside us.” The Turdetani gestured back up the hill. “You have not got another few thousand warriors on the other side have you?”

  “Not unless you count the hundreds of Turdetani we saw scampering south!”

  “Not bloody likely!” The Turdetani champion was clearly the leading warrior on this far flank and he barked a laugh. “We did not expect your lot here!”

  Caros gestured to his men to file down and take up positions close up against the hillside. Maleric stayed close beside him while Neugen and Beaugissa took their places in the front and second ranks.

  “Oh? Why is that?” Caros called, glad of the banter as a means to calm the nerves of the warriors all around as they listened.

  “Expected you to be behind the Romans. That is how you Bastetani like doing it, nah? From the back!”

  Caros grinned as the Turdetani and others jeered. Bastetani voices jeered right back and long curses followed.

  Neugen’s voice rose above the rest and Caros felt a heartbeat of remorse for the Turdetani, knowing his friend would never be bettered when such insults were being bandied about.

  “Your wife only told you that because she mistook your brother for me, Naoes Long Knife!”

  The welter of laughter banished many warriors’ fears and from one heartbeat to the next, Caros felt suddenly good standing on the rocky
ground, surrounded by a press of reeking warriors who would laugh, fight and bleed for that ground.

  A great roar abruptly lifted from their right and the drum beat at the heat of Hanno’s army grew, feeding the warriors like a mighty heart. Boom Boom! Boom Boom!

  Like an awakened beast flexing its dormant muscles, Hanno’s army moved.

  Those on the flanks felt the shift as the center stepped forward. Space between warriors shrank as those in the center edged apart to make room to brandish their blades.

  Caros glanced up the hillside and caught Hercle’s eye. He lifted his spear and pointed it toward the Roman lines. Hercle’s response was to begin to twirl his heavy war sling. Caros saw the bulge of Orko’s rock just off-center of the sling. He invoked that mighty god, calling on him to send a wall of stone and lead down on the Romans.

  Satisfied the Sedetani were in place, Caros fastened his eyes on the Roman lines. He felt he had taken just a handful of paces, but already he could see the shadows of the Romans’ faces beneath their helms, their very eyes, round and flaring white, liked panicked mounts.

  He noted that these were the lightly armed Romans that had filtered to the front and taken up a loose formation in the dead ground between the armies.

  Those that stood directly in his path numbered just a few dozen. They carried light throwing spears and equally light shields. The first of them came in a little group, thin-lipped as they ran forward to within range and hurled their spears. In a heartbeat, the spears lifted and dropped. The tramp of sandals and battering of shields muted the sounds of impact. No single scream rose detected above the din. Instead, the drum beat quickened and then the Roman lines shifted. Dust lifted lazily at the feet of the front rank and then the shields rippled and the Romans were moving forward.