Beside him, Jornican drew his sword. “Now Bastetani, you will see how strong are the hearts and arms of the Andosinni.” The chieftain raised his sword and waved it above his head.
“Andosinni! Andosinni! Sons of Orko!” The Andosinni cheered and took up the chant while the Aeronosii jeered and shouted, quickening their pace.
Jornican swept his arm forward and with a collective grunt, the Andosinni launched their maharra at the enemy. The spears climbed silently before peaking and falling towards the Aeronosii. Again, Jornican swept his sword down and before the first flight had struck, hundreds more of the missiles rose. He quickly spun his mount and raced to the right flank to join his mounted warriors, out of range of the hail of incoming spears. The Aeronosii were not unblooded warriors. As the first flight began to plummet towards them, they pitched their spears, throwing as they trotted forward. No sooner had they thrown than they crouched and lifted their shields above them. The Andosinni’s spears now reached them. Falling amongst them, striking shields for the most part. Here and there, a warrior took a wickedly sharpened point through an exposed limb or a spear penetrated a poorly made shield to bite into a head or shoulder. The second wave of Andosinni spears struck home with much the same effect. Then the Aeronosii lashed out, rising and throwing. Now the Andosinni were banking their shields and bracing for the rain of iron.
Caros found himself in the middle of the two masses of warriors and an easy target. He urged his mare forward and picked up speed. With the mare galloping hard under him, he swept his arm forward and hurled a javelin at an Aeronosii warrior. The combined force of his throw and the speed of his mount ensured the light javelin struck the warrior with enough momentum to punch through the man’s shield, leather armour and deep into his belly. Racing across the face of the enemy, just paces from his flank now, he became the target for every warrior. A spear flashed by his cheek, closely followed by another, which buried itself in his shield. He hurled another javelin and turned away from the enemy. Hanging low over his mount’s withers, willing himself to shrink in size as another spear grazed his knee, he blew past the Aeronosii on one side and the Andosinni on the other and raced the mount up a small incline to where Jornican sat with his riders. Behind him, the two forces collided in a din of crashing shields and slamming iron.
“Well fought, Bastetani!” Jornican’s voice held grudging respect.
Caros pulled the mare up, blowing heavily. His hands shook as he wrestled the spear free from where it had lodged in his shield and he used the exercise to regain his breath while sweat dripped from his brow. He offered Jornican a shaky smile. He dared not speak for fear his voice would crack. He had not intended to become the target of every spear the enemy threw and cursed his slow reactions. He looked to where the two sides wrestled and flailed. It was a stomach loosening sight, more so because the superior numbers of the enemy were already beginning to drive the Andosinni warriors back while curling around the flanks.
“A good time to drive them off our men’s flanks. You with us, Bastetani?”
In reply, he raised the spear he had pulled from the shield and pointed it at the enemy. Jornican’s lips twisted and he waved his small column forward. Charging down the incline, they hurled javelins and spears into the massed enemy on that flank. The Andosinni were aware of them though and the warriors along the edge of their lines kept their shields high and jabbed their spears at any rider who came to close. A warrior darted free from the mass and launched a spear at a rider from just paces away. The rider’s eyes widened a moment before the spear thudded into his chest, piercing the loose iron circlets of his armoured vest. His chin dropped and he toppled from his mount to bounce and roll into the melee. More Aeronosii were targeting the riders now and Jornican quickly led them beyond range, leaving two more mounts riderless. They had made almost no difference. The Andosinni were almost fully surrounded. From the left flank came a shrill war cry and the Masulians launched a charge. Gualbes had foreseen this and that flank was bristling with spears. He had also packed his archers along that flank. Still, the enemy was unprepared for the ferocity of the Masulian attack. They sped along the flank, hurling their javelins with frightening accuracy and force. Aeronosii warriors fell in droves, scythed down by the hail of javelins. Dust quickly obscured that flank, leaving Caros to guess at what was happening.
A roar drew his attention to the near ranks and the riders around him cursed. The Aeronosii had forced a wedge into the flank of the Andosinni warriors. Exploiting this, they were now cutting off a group of thirty or more warriors from the rest. Once isolated these warriors would be doomed. Caros pointed to the rear of the Andosinni where the encircling enemy ranks were thinnest. “There! We need to strike there.”
Grimly Jornican drew his blade. “We have no more spears. Now we fight on foot.” He slid from his mount and slapped its rump, sending it trotting off. His warriors did likewise. Without their mounts, they would have no retreat. These men, the wealthiest of their people, would stand and fall with the common warriors. They knew, as did Caros, that their eighty might delay the death of thirty, but would make no difference to the final tally. Not even the lethal Masulians could save this battle and Gualbes’ horsemen had yet to arrive.
Caros made to dismount, but Jornican stopped him. “No. Go fight with the Masulians Caros. Better yet, go find Castrodubis.” He looked over his shoulder at the beleaguered Andosinni and spat. “Just make bloody sure Hannibal rewards Gualbes.” He looked at Caros and emphasized his point by dragging his thumb across his throat. Then with a cocky smile the chieftain bellowed for his men to follow. Helplessly Caros watched as the small contingent of Andosinni threw themselves into the battle. He circled the battle lines warily. The Andosinni fought like men possessed, but they were being crushed tighter and tighter together. Beyond the heaving battle line, the gates of Olot stood open and before them were arranged a score of riders. Through the dust, Caros made out the figure of Gualbes. He spat in disgust at the sight of the chieftain sitting back and watching good warriors fight their lives away. More immediately, packs of Aeronosii were charging into the battle from every direction. Many, not able to reach the encircled Andosinni, turned in frustration to loot fallen warriors who lay panting their death rattle as lungs filled with blood. A small group of these looters took exception to Caros passing near them and charged him on foot. A well-thrown spear nearly took his head off and he judiciously turned and raced further from the battle. He planned to join Aksel’s Masulian riders who were still striking the far flank of the enemy with calculated waves of attack. There was only one possible outcome at this rate and Caros was loath to have been instrumental in the destruction of the brave Andosinni. He broke his mount into a gallop and crossed the rear of the battle lines to reach the Masulians.
They were beyond a muddy stream, alongside a burned and collapsed farm building. He remembered the place as being a thriving farm just days before. This was Aksel’s rally point; where his riders brought their injured or sought fresh ponies. The Masulians were taking too many injuries. Gualbes’ archers were wreaking havoc on their numbers. Even as Caros approached, another band of Masulians arrived under a cloud of dust, voices cracking as they called to each other. Caros had rarely heard the Masulians so vocal. He found Aksel gritting his teeth as one of his men tied a press over a wound high on his thigh.
“Arrow?” Caros observed.
“Bastards have a lot of bowmen and they are good. We have lost too many riders. What news?”
“Nothing good. Castrodubis has not shown and now Jornican has committed his riders to fighting in the lines.”
“There are too many of them. We are outnumbered and Gualbes’ horsemen will be here soon.” Aksel gestured to his riders. “My men can’t do anymore.”
Caros had feared Aksel would say this. “We can’t desert Jornican now.”
Aksel shrugged. “We can’t throw our men’s lives away either. We have a responsibility to them. Hannibal will send warriors enough to crush
Gualbes.”
Caros shook his head. “What if there is another way? Gualbes has committed his warriors to the battle. Behind them the gates stand open.”
Aksel cocked his head skeptically. “No doubt he has reserves enough guarding the gates.”
Caros grinned. “Well we will never know unless we try eh?”
Aksel surveyed the mounting numbers of wounded Masulians arriving from the battlefield. His face twisted into a snarl. “Let’s do the unexpected then.”
They rode in a wide circle around the swirling dust that obscured the centre of the battle. The ringing of metal on metal and roar of hundreds of men locked in mortal combat, rose louder and louder. The Andosinni were stubbornly making the Aeronosii pay dearly for every man they lost. They had fallen back onto a slight hillock and prepared to make a stand there against the encircling foe. Once past the main battle, the dust fell away and Caros scanned the walls of Olot.
“There! The gates are still wide open and there is Gualbes himself with his captains! We can end this now!” Caros shouted to be heard above the thunder of battle.
Aksel squinted at the palisade, noting the large number of heads poking over the sharpened tree limbs. “You may be right. From the look of it most of those on the wall are women and children watching the battle.”
Caros looked back at the slowly compacting group of surviving Andosinni. They did not have much time if they were to save Jornican and his warriors. “The women will fight as hard as the men, but if we can take Gualbes...” He left the rest unspoken, cautious of angering the gods.
Aksel looked at him with wary eyes. “We dare not become trapped in there Caros. I will commit a hundred riders. The rest will keep an avenue open for us to escape by.”
“A hundred is fine. You watch our backs.”
In moments Aksel split his force, leaving a hundred riders with Caros, he led the rest in a final charge against the Aeronosii encircling their allies. Caros’ lungs burned as he deliberately rode through the thickest clouds of dust made by Aksel’s riders. Olot loomed out of the dust before him and he urged his horse into a charge. Between his riders and the gates were numerous small groups of warriors carrying injured away from the battle. There were also women and children ferrying ale to their men. They scattered in fright at the sudden appearance of the Masulians who ululated and whooped as they rode single-mindedly at the small contingent of men surrounding Gualbes. The warriors at the gates began to draw them closed as soon as they realized what was about to happen. Gualbes and his men turned and casually retreated into the settlement. Caros snarled and hurled a javelin at one of the men pushing on the gate in an effort to close it. His aim was true and the man fell writhing to the ground, the javelin buried in the small of his back. Others fell; struck down by the closing Masulians and the few remaining Andosinni realized they would die before they ever closed the gates. The Masulians with Caros hurled their javelins at the fleeing warriors and then the gates were theirs.
Leaping his mare over corpses bristling with javelins, Caros was through the gates and immediately a slingshot struck a glancing blow off his helmet while another took him in the centre of his chest. Youths lined the palisade and roofs of the nearest buildings, cursing and shouting defiance. The Masulians wore barely any armour and had to cower behind their shields as they charged into the street beyond the gate. Of Gualbes, there was no sign. The proud, arrogant chieftain had left the defence of his settlement in the hands of women and youths.
“Light torches and fire the nearest buildings. Quickly!” If they failed to kill or capture Gualbes, they might still cause the Aeronosii warriors to fall back at the sight of their settlement burning. Caros had no interest in killing women and children, but neither was he prepared to see the Andosinni wiped out to a man. A warrior nearest him grunted and slid sightless from his mount. Blood ran from the hole punched through his forehead by a slingshot.
“By the gods! Hurry, find a fire!” A mount screamed and spilled its rider as it bucked, stabbed by a woman brandishing a wood-tined fork. All around them women, youths and old men advanced bearing forks, stakes and clubs. Caros had not anticipated such concerted resistance so soon. A rider at last found a fire pit with a handful of glowing embers. It was enough and the oil doused twine wrapped at the end of a baton flared bright. Shouting, he rode amongst his companions who quickly lit their torches from his. Caros, his torch alight, quickly turned to hurl it onto a nearby thatched roof. Before he could, a score of well-armed warriors clattered into sight from deeper within the settlement. Leading them was Gualbes. He was dressed for battle and he carried a heavy spear in one hand and his sword in the other. The fear of being burned out like a rat had brought him out of hiding.
“You! I am going to gut you Bastetani!” Roared Gualbes, his face crimson with anger.
“Gualbes! You cower here while your people die for you in battle! What kind of man does that?”
In reply, Gualbes launched his spear at Caros. The heavy weapon struck his shield and the sheer brute strength behind the throw nearly knocked him from his mount. The Masulians had tossed their burning torches into and onto the nearest buildings and smoke and flames were already growing. Gualbes led his warriors in a mad charge, their line extended across the street. The sight of their chieftain emboldened the Aeronosii villagers who closed on Caros and the Masulians. Caros spun his mount, taking in the scores of grim-faced villagers. This was not a battle they would win. The fired buildings might be enough though to give some relief to the Andosinni. “Time to go!” He spun his mare and led the Masulians from Olot and headlong into a mass of warriors. Cursing, he reined in sharply causing his mount to rear.
“Caros! I had hoped to stop you, but I see I’m too late!”
Struggling with his mount, he recognised the voice and gawped in anger. “You were supposed to be here at sunrise!”
Castrodubis sat his mount casually and shrugged. “I’m here now.” He watched as the Masulians galloped clear of Olot. “Where is Gualbes? He was not in the battle.”
“He’s right behind us.” Caros looked back through the gates, but Gualbes had disappeared. Knots of women and children approached cautiously, recognizing Castrodubis. The Aeronosii lifted his hand and called to them.
“The war with the Andosinni is over. They are our allies. Your men will recognised me as the chieftain of the Aeronosii.”
Caros watched their reactions change from caution and anger to relief and then joy. Castrodubis and Laia had not been mistaken; these people respected the big warrior. A youth ran forward and clutched Castrodubis’ leg. “Gualbes is fleeing through the hill gate. He has taken the silver.”
Castrodubis cursed loudly. “What of the others, the ones from Rome?”
“They are with him.” The youth urged.
Caros who had been listening, sat up straighter. “Rome?”
Castrodubis scowled at him. “Of course. They wanted Gualbes and Jornican to deny Hannibal a route north.”
Caros sat stunned. He had never imagined the hand of Rome in Gualbes’ actions.
Chapter 13
The battle still raged around the hillock to which the Andosinni clung. Completely encircled, they had nowhere to retreat to, so like cornered beasts they fought. Shields held firm, their spears and swords keeping the Aeronosii at bay. Warriors stood panting in the ranked masses. Blood trailed in sticky threads from their beards and swords. The sun burned down on the field and flies swarmed over the living and dead alike. The air was thick with dust that caught in their throats and made their breathing hoarse.
Castrodubis’ arrived with the hundreds of Aeronosii that were loyal to him. They blew their warhorns, long and loud, signaling the retreat. Those Aeronosii locked in combat with the Andosinni paused and broke off their fighting. They dropped back uncertainly, warily watching their enemy. Castrodubis rode forward and called for them to cease fighting. From among the blood-smattered press of warriors, a voice questioned why when they had the enemy trapped. The rest
growled in agreement.
Castrodubis made a show of looking them over before replying. “Where is your chieftain? Where is Gualbes? Has he fallen in battle against our allies the Andosinni?” The Aeronosii murmured uncertainly amongst themselves and Castrodubis continued. “Since when did the chieftains of the Aeronosii hide behind the palisades of Olot while warriors fought? Never I say! Gualbes has led you poorly. He has grown rich and yet has he shared that wealth? He has broken promises and treaties and made the Aeronosii people into bandits.” The warriors growled angrily. “The Andosinni have long been our close allies yet Gualbes has cheated them.”
“Then why are their warriors here outside our city?” Another voice shouted from the mass of warriors.
“Why indeed? I invited them here to regain what Gualbes had promised them and then stolen. I, Castrodubis, who hold the honour of the Aeronosii more closely than Gualbes ever did or could!” He gestured to the remaining Andosinni. “There stand a proud people who came to aid me in ridding our people of the thief and liar that is Gualbes. You know me and you know that I serve the people. Follow me and I will restore our honour.”
The warriors of Olot were hesitant. Caros watched them cursing and shaking their heads. Castrodubis snarled. “You people of Olot. Your fight is not with the Andosinni. Your fight is with those who have misled you. If you still wish to follow Gualbes then I shall not stop you.” He pointed to the east. “Know this though, Gualbes has already fled. He has left you! He has taken the silver that is rightfully yours and fled to lick the sandals of the people of Rome.” He paused to let this sink in before adding. “He is not worthy of warriors such as you. I ask again, will you follow me?”
Now there was no doubt in their movements and a tall warrior thrust his spear high into the afternoon sky. “Castrodubis!” With a sound like snow breaking free from a mountain, the rest thrust their weapons high and with one voice called upon their new chieftain.
Maharra Page 14