Maharra

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Maharra Page 15

by J Glenn Bauer


  Jornican hissed in pain as a healer threaded the bone needle through his skin, stitching closed the gaping wound on his shoulder. Caros watched the healer work as all around them injured men were treated. The battle had been bloody and the wounds needed treating quickly or they would become pus-filled within a few days. A warrior was lifted gently from where he lay beside two others. They were dead and he was writhing in agony. His face was swollen and blackened, his teeth smashed. His sword arm was shattered and bone protruded, glistening white. His scream made Caros wince, but it was one among many as the battlefield was cleared.

  “Its strange how in battle these injuries are barely felt, yet afterwards they pain so.” Aksel complained as he stretched his injured leg, trying to find a comfortable pose.”

  “It must be the doing of Runeovex who protects us from all save the worst kinds of pain while in battle.” Caros mused. The healer finished tending to Jornican and retreated to administer to others. Jornican was pale and sweating heavily, the shock and pain of the injury etched into his face. “That was a battle to sing of for a long time. Alas, it has left the Andosinni in a perilous state. You say Gualbes has escaped and taken the silver with him?”

  “He and some of his trusted men fled into the hills when they realized Castrodubis had arrived with reinforcements.” Caros repeated what he had heard.

  Jornican scowled angrily. “Your master has not yet set foot in these hills and already he has made our lives infinitely more difficult. Without that silver the Volcae will soon overrun us.” The chieftain’s shoulders slumped and his head bowed.

  “Surely you don’t mean to lay the blame for these hardships at the door of the Barcas? I understand that you entertained an envoy from Rome. You did not mention this.” Caros responded coldly

  “Rome. What is that? Carthage. What is that? Places I have never been to, but nevertheless here my people are, caught between the two.” Jornican spat at Caros.

  “My people have traded with Carthage and grown stronger for it. Hamilcar, Hasdrubal and now even Hannibal have always been honourable men and aided their allies. Just as we aided Castrodubis. If not for Gualbes’ treachery, we would have aided him. Side with Hannibal Barca and Carthage now and you will see the Volcae driven back into the north. These are not light words I speak Jornican. My father raised me to be a merchant and I have seen how the gods have favoured Carthage and their allies.”

  Jornican stared at Caros for a long while, as though trying to find a flicker of dishonesty in the young man’s face. At last, he inclined his head to Caros. “I trust you Caros. You and Aksel with the Masulians fought well beside us today. I only wish we could have ended this cleanly with Gualbes death.” He sighed. “You may tell Hannibal that the Andosinni will welcome Carthage as an ally. There are two talents of silver due in exchange yes?”

  Caros smiled slowly. “We will dispatch a messenger to Hannibal requesting the silver and warriors. The silver is yours and the warriors will help you drive off these Volcae.”

  A bellowing voice caught their attention. Castrodubis was striding towards them, a large grin on his face. Caros felt a stab of anger. While they had been fighting and dying here outside Olot for this man, he had been chasing his tail in the hills. Was he to be another Gualbes?

  “Fellows! Good news! The fires were easily subdued and aside from a few roofs which will need new thatch, the damage was light.” The new chieftain spoke loudly. He must have sensed the somber mood for he paused and his composure changed. “You have my thanks for what you have done here. I only wish I could repay it in some way.”

  Aksel rose, his face unreadable. He had been silent until now, but Caros suspected the Masulian was embittered by the losses his men had suffered while Castrodubis was absent. Aksel’s words proved him correct. “It is right that you offer your thanks. It might be a good idea as well to explain to us why so many of our men are dead and injured while yours have not so much as a blister?”

  Castrodubis’ face turned red and he swung towards Aksel, towering over him. “I would have been here at the appointed time, but for the small matter of a thousand of Gualbes’ horsemen. Did you not stop to wonder why they never showed up to slaughter you all?”

  Aksel’s eye twitched and his lips thinned. “There is not a battle wound amongst your men. Do not expect me to believe you fought them.”

  Castrodubis burst out laughing. “By Endovex no! I had to run from them! They chased us up and over every hill between here and the lands of the dead.” He laughed again. “It is they who are now fleeing. We encountered a column of thousands of your fellow warriors. I told them of you and Caros and what had happened here to your envoy, Adicran. They agreed to aid us.”

  Aksel shook his head slowly, his anger growing. “So still more of my people fought and likely died for your cause.”

  Castrodubis cocked and eyebrow wearily at Aksel’s anger. “Rest assured my friend; I have no wish to see any more Aeronosii blood spilled nor the blood of our allies. Your countrymen simply agreed to hold the Aeronosii off our backs. As your countrymen numbered well over three thousand, I think it unlikely the Aeronosii horsemen would have been induced to attack them.” He produced a leather cylinder from a fold in his tunic. Caros recognised the symbol of Tanit immediately. “Their Commander, Massibaka, asked that this be delivered to Adicran. I accepted, but alas Adicran is dead.” The Aeronosii held out the cylinder to Aksel who turned and stalked off. Caros stepped forward and took it instead.

  “Adicran? You have his body?”

  Castrodubis dipped his chin. “What is left of it.”

  Jaws clenched, Caros turned his attention to the leather cylinder. Breaking the Barca seal, he prised off the cap and drew a thin message board from within. It was from the general himself, Hannibal. He read it quickly. Hannibal congratulated Adicran on securing a treaty with the Aeronosii. Then he voiced a warning that there may well be Roman agents active amongst the tribes here in the north. If Adicran found any evidence of this, he was to advise immediately. Caros slid the message back into the cylinder. He would send a return message that day confirming that Rome had indeed been busy here and it had already cost them many lives. He wondered at the speed with which the Romans had acted. It seemed they must have already been planning to spread dissention here for some time to have been able to act so quickly. His skin prickled with tension. What else had they planned? Were their iron-hard legionaries already en route to battle Hannibal?

  Castrodubis was watching him curiously and finally asked, “You look concerned my friend? Is there something I can aide you with?” He gestured to Aksel in the distance. “I understand that I owe you and your allies much. You have only to ask.”

  Caros dragged his hand through his hair, thinking hard. “Castrodubis, you said Gualbes fled with Romans did you not?”

  “Yes. They arrived some days before yourselves. They caught his ear and promised him much.” He looked at Jornican pointedly. “Jornican can testify to this, but I thought you already guessed this?”

  Caros flushed. “I suspected an alliance against Hannibal, but not that it was Rome that had orchestrated it.”

  Castrodubis looked questioningly at Jornican who grunted. “Then perhaps you should warn your general that Rome is preparing to invade.”

  “Saur’s dogs! How do you know this? They told you?” He cried in dismay.

  “They promised that a fleet was being readied to sail their legions to war. They would not say much, but assured us that Carthage would curse the Barca name.” Jornican looked gravely at Caros who stood silently calculating what he could do.

  Smoke hung listlessly over the valley. The pyres for the dead had burned through the day as the Aeronosii and Andosinni counted their lost. In days to come, more of the warriors would succumb to injuries they had received. These were the unfortunate ones. Their passing would be a difficult one, filled with agony, pus and rot. Those from Olot with healing skills already looked drawn and haggard and it had been less than a day since
the last blow had been dealt. Caros turned away from the valley and followed Aksel and his riders into the deeper hills. Many of the Masulians sang softly or chanted and hummed their songs of death. Horses draped with the shrouded corpses of their dead were interspersed among the column, led by kin or friends of the slain. Fifty of their number had been killed in the battle or died since while many others carried injuries.

  Jinkata rode beside Caros and pointed to a cliff in the distance. “That is where the tombs are. It is a fitting place for a warrior’s final rest.”

  Caros stared at the towering bluff that reflected the afternoon sun. Carrion birds soared in the sky high above. Black specks one might easily miss except he knew to look for them above such cliffs and steep hillsides. He frowned in thought. It was not so many days past since Jinkata had come this way to lay to rest the Masulian rider killed by the brigands.

  “Jinkata, do you recall the description of the brigands who killed the scout, or rather the description of their mounts?” He asked.

  He shrugged. “I do. They rode white mounts with heavy heads and large hooves. They said the mounts were agile, fast.”

  Caros chewed his lip for a moment and then his memory sharpened. He had seen such horses before. A Greek horse trader had once tried to sell a pair of these horses to his father. That man had hailed from the region of Massalia.

  They arrived in the gorge below the cliffs before sunset. As their leader and the chieftain of their clan of Masulians, Aksel walked amongst his men, speaking words of comfort to the kin of the dead. Caros watched in respectful silence as a grey-haired warrior chanted incomprehensible words while shaking a bone rattle above each of the dead. Once he completed the rituals, they were lifted and carried up winding paths to the caves high above. The last rays of the day’s sun lit the cliff face in a dazzling golden hue. The carriers emerged from the caves, the dead now at rest and ready to depart with the sun. They began to chant, their voices carrying thinly to the Masulians sitting silent in the shadowy gorge below. As the sun slipped away so did the chanting and the Masulians in the darkening gorge let forth their ululations. To Caros it seemed a strange manner in which to bid the dead farewell, but seemed fitting with the spirit of the Masulians. They lived life to the full and they laughed often. He had seen these men shed tears unashamedly, which was not a thing Iberian men would do. When they began their haunting cries, at first he simply listened. The hairs on his neck rose and powerful emotions coursed through his veins until it seemed natural for him to join them and he let loose the strange call of the desert people he had befriended.

  The chants continued while fires were lit and the darkness deepened. Caros was not a little perturbed that the Masulians would dare to sleep so close to the dead.

  “Are you not wary of the shades of the dead? They are so close.” He asked, attempting to sound merely curious and not reveal his fear.

  Aksel snapped a dry bough. “Why should we fear the shades of our own? If they wish to visit us while we sleep we should find ourselves grateful rather than fearful.”

  This was the very answer Caros feared. He had hoped Aksel might reassure him that no such thing would happen. That the dead men’s spirits were far away, across the lands of Saur. He glanced up at the dark and intimidating cliff and shivered. Pulling his cloak tight about him, he knelt to spill a little oil on the small pile of twigs and branches. A warrior trotted over with an ember cupped in his calloused hand and carefully dropped it amongst the twigs. He blew it gently and the oil ignited. The man nodded happily and returned to his fellows. Caros immediately set about making the fire much larger and brighter.

  Aksel scooted backwards on his rump and protested as the flames crackled higher. “We only have some fowl to roast, there’s no need for a bloody great bonfire!”

  Caros disagreed, but kept his fears to himself. He threw a last branch onto the happy flames and gave Aksel a wry smile.

  “How is your leg?”

  Aksel laughed. “The truth? Feels like a horse kicked me. A big bastard as well.” He eased his leg and shrugged. “Of course it could have been worse. I might have been on my way down from up there to visit you in your dreams.” He gestured to the tombs.

  Caros’ eyes widened as he took Aksel’s meaning. Then he gauffed and batted Aksel’s shoulder. “Bastard!” He pulled the brace of wild fowl closer and set them on stakes propped over the flames. Immediately the feathers began to blacken and fuse and the smoke lifted the charring scent high into the night. A fox screamed in the dark and Caros stiffened, wondering at the true source of the cry.

  Aksel held his hands up to the flames. “Castrodubis says Massibaka’s column is heading east for Andosinni land. Do we join with him?”

  “No. There is another matter we need to resolve.”

  Aksel gave Caros a sidelong look. “Gualbes no doubt?”

  “Yes and no. I received a message from Hannibal. He wants confirmation of Roman activity here and further north.”

  “You have the word of Castrodubis and Jornican. What more do you need?”

  The scout that was killed the day before we reached Olot, I think he was killed by the same Romans that turned Gualbes and Jornican against Carthage.”

  Aksel whistled. “How so?”

  Caros explained the scouts’ reports describing the horses. “Such a breed is common to the lands around Massalia. The Romans trade for these horses as they make good war horses, fast and resilient.”

  “Ah, and the Romans reached Olot before us and fled with Gualbes.” Aksel stared into the fire for some time, a deep frown creasing his brow. “I have maybe two hundred men fit enough to fight, more than enough to run Gualbes and his Roman friends down.”

  “More than enough.” Caros agreed coldly.

  Aksel smiled and shook his head. “Do you ever ask yourself what the outcome of this war between Rome and Carthage means for us? Not for Rome or Carthage, but for us? The Bastetani and Masulians. The Aeronosii and Andosinni?”

  The question struck Caros as one his father might have asked. “I think on it, but since Ilimic’s death...” He shook his head. “I feel changed. Things wear the wrong colours and sounds have a different meaning. I am still angry.”

  Aksel pulled a stake free and batted the roasted bird against a rock, loosening the charred exterior. He passed it to Caros and did the same to the other.

  The two men ate in silence, the pink meat steaming hot. Aksel flicked a drumstick onto the embers. “That was a bird. It sang like one, wore feathers and dropped out the sky when slingshot. It even tasted like one. The world is the same; it is you who has changed. I saw how you longed for Ilimic even as your heart beat faster when speaking with Gualbes’ woman. Embrace life my friend. The gods know it is short enough without all the sharp blades to dodge.” The Masulian drew his cloak about him and rolled onto his side. “We hunt Romans tomorrow. Do we keep the silver if we find it?”

  Caros gave a bark of laughter. “Keep the silver?” It was by rights Barca silver. He considered the massive bluff above them, darker by far than the midnight black of the sky. “Yes. By Runeovex, yes! I could do a lot of embracing with that much silver.”

  Chapter 14

  It was still dark when Caros awoke. He lay for a moment taking in the sounds of the Masulians stirring around him. He looked up at the dome of the mother earth above him. The star map that flickered palely there showed that morning was not far off. His shoulder ached where a rock had patiently pressed into him while he slept and his hip throbbed from sleeping on the hard, cold ground. Still, lying there wrapped in his cloak, he was content to enjoy the moment. The night creatures had already retreated to their burrows and roosts and the land was silent, peaceful even. He heard Aksel stir and let loose a muffled wind. Somewhere a warrior was snapping twigs. Soon the tang of fresh smoke drifted over Caros.

  Rolling to his feet, he shook his cloak vigorously, shedding the leaves and dirt clinging to it. Refastening it around his neck, he picked his way off to the side and r
elieved himself, studying the shadowy wall of the cliff rising above him. There would be hard ground to cover if they expected to find Gualbes and the Romans. Aksel was awake now and calling out to his men, rousting those still slumbering. He greeted Caros, stretched and rolled his shoulders, his hair hanging loose and unbound down to his waist. “Gualbes has a day on us. I am thinking we speak with Castrodubis before we go after him. He may know where Gualbes will go.”

  Caros tied his tunic tight about his waist with a braided leather belt. Adjusting his tunic, he agreed. “That might save us time. Their ultimate destination will be Rome. To get there they will want to reach the coast and take a galley. Yes, perhaps Castrodubis will know where they might go to do so.”

  Together they crossed to where a warrior had begun their meal. “Were you serious about the silver?” Aksel asked.

  “Why not? We have bled enough for it.”

  Aksel knelt beside the fire and poked at a loaf of flat bread baking on a rock. “Good. I am glad to hear you say so. It will to be good to reward the warriors who will send it back home of course. Well most of it.” He laughed.

  “I can arrange that. We can send it to Baria and a merchant I know will put it in the hands of a trustworthy sea captain.”

  “Some of my men need to return home and there are those too injured to fight.” Aksel spoke with concern.

  Caros nodded. “Of course. They should ask for a merchant by the name of Marc. He has a warehouse in Baria. I’ll send a message with them.” The bread ready, they ate quickly, wolfing down the hot chunks with mouthfuls of weak wine.

  Caros had brought along his remount, the handsome stallion. The mount felt strong and sure-footed under him and he had no doubt it would prove a fine warhorse with strong nerves and quick reflexes in battle. Still, he needed the stallion to become familiar to his riding before he trusted it to battle. They set a fast pace to Olot and before the sun reached its highest point in the cloudless sky, they trotted to a halt outside the settlement. Where two days before men had fought and died, now children trotted along behind their mothers as they tilled the soil.

 

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