Within the settlement, the fire-blackened buildings were being cleared of charred timber beams and burned thatch. Many of the warriors had departed that morning for the smaller settlements in the surrounding hills. There was still considerable traffic as villagers traded and jostled in the narrow streets with craftsmen and traders. Caros walked the familiar road to the common with Aksel at his side. Much like Gualbes before him, Castrodubis sat with a cadre of loyal warriors on the common. Their faces jubilant, they talked loudly and gesticulated often. Castrodubis spied them as they neared and smiled in their direction. With a final flourish of gestures, he finished what he had been saying and turned to them, his arms spread wide.
“Greetings, Caros. Aksel! Welcome.” He called to a young lad. “Bring a jug and cups for our friends here.”
“Greetings, Castrodubis!” Caros nodded as well to the Aeronosii warriors. They were relaxed and many smiled at the two companions. “A drink is just what we need. Regrettably, we cannot stay long. We plan on pursuing Gualbes.” Caros paused, “You have not already done so perhaps?”
Castrodubis laughed. “No! I wish it were so. I have set scouts on his trail, but I am certain he will reach his destination before they find him.”
Aksel’s eyebrows danced in surprise. “We had hoped you might have an idea of his destination?”
The new chieftain grabbed the jug from the boy. “Good lad, pass our friends the cups.” He smiled proudly. “My sister’s son. He will be a fine warrior if she would just let him. I use every opportunity to have him here with us so he can learn what it means to be an honourable warrior.”
Caros and Aksel dipped their cups into the large jug Castrodubis held before them. The ale tasted excellent and washed away the dust at the back of their throats.
Castrodubis belched loudly and beat his chest. “Good stuff. Gualbes could not take everything eh!” He downed the rest of his drink and tossed his cup aside. “Why do you care what happens to Gualbes? You know as well as I that he will flee to Rome.”
Caros ventured. “Does he not still have the support of some of the Aeronosii? What of his kin and what of the Aeronosii horsemen you evaded? Do they not still support him?”
“No worries there. His kin will flee and those that do not we will kill. Their children will be taken as our own and their mothers we will sell to the Andosinni or to the Greeks in Tarraco.
“Is that where Gualbes will go?” Aksel asked with a hint of impatience.
Castrodubis wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “No. He has fled further north. I believe he has kin in a fishing village that has become quite prosperous and he has visited there before.”
“How many days travel to this village and what is it called?”
“Four days in this weather. Sooner if you do not mind killing your mounts. Ride towards the rising sun. When you see the ocean, keep the sun on your right shoulder. You will avoid the worst of the broken ground that way. When you reach the coast the place you want is called Long Spears. Ask any of the people you see and they’ll set you on the right course.”
“This will help us greatly. Thank you!”
Castrodubis huffed at Caros’ heartfelt thanks. “We owe you a great deal. Make sure Hannibal knows my name.”
Caros was under no illusions about their chances. Gualbes had the advantages of a long head start, knowledge of the countryside and he was fleeing for his life. Their only real hope of confronting him lay at this place called Long Spears. It may be that Gualbes and his Roman consorts had to kick their heels waiting for a ship. So they rode east, the sun throwing their shadows ahead of them, an endless pursuit. They crested countless hills under clear skies and never did they spy their quarry. Aksel had scouts ranging before them and others crisscrossing the land between. They had left Olot following the trail Gualbes had taken as pointed out by Castrodubis’ scouts.
Towards evening, they approached the brow of yet another rocky hill. As before, there was no sign of the fleeing men. They were not seeking the men themselves as they narrowed their eyes, but rather the distant dun coloured blur that hovers on the trail of swiftly moving horses. “Gods! Still nothing!” Caros felt the tension of the chase keenly. They knew they were on the right trail. The scouts confirmed it, but he wanted to see at least some tangible evidence other than chipped rocks, broken twigs and torn dirt.
“Easy Caros. We are just starting the hunt. We will have them by nightfall tomorrow.” Aksel spoke coolly. Caros grunted and tore his searching gaze from the panorama before him, its wild beauty unnoticed. “You sound very bloody sure of that. What am I missing?”
Aksel’s lips twitched. “They have silver with them and not just a purse full either.”
“Of course. Six talents. Even split between them that is a lot of extra weight. Gualbes has what, a score of warriors with him and the five Romans. He will not split the silver with them. Neither will he split it with more than say one or two of his most trusted warriors. That means at least three of their horses are going to be carrying a lot of weight.” Caros shook his head doubtfully.
“It is about more than the weight of the silver. If you have that much silver to lose you avoid trouble like it was plague meat. They will be riding cautiously, nervous of every approaching stranger and every defile they pass through will seem to them to be filled with bandits. No, that silver is going to end up fraying at their nerves.”
Aksel’s confidence was inspiring and Caros smiled tentatively at first and then broadly. “Put it that way, it is going to get their necks frayed. Now I am worried somebody else takes their heads before we do!”
Aksel’s smiled fell. “By all the jhinis! You are right. We have to get them first!”
Caros kicked the stallion into a good pace and rattled down the far side of the hill to where the ground eased into an undulating plain. Aksel gained on him and the two men raced towards a distant wall of trees. Behind them, the column of Masulians crested the hill to see their chieftain and Caros racing one another with the sun at their backs, far ahead. Jinkata clicked his tongue in bemused annoyance.
They were forced to make camp not long after the sun had set. Twilight was a brief struggle as daylight leeched away to complete dark. Some of the scouts had returned to advise the trail they followed led unerringly east. Caros paused gnawing the dried meat that was his meal. “Aksel, do your scouts follow strictly along the trail Gualbes left?”
Puzzled, the Masulian grunted an affirmative, mouth stuffed with the dried tack. Caros took up a twig and scuffed stones and leaves aside, quickly clearing a space on the ground beside the fire. Scratching lines in the dirt, he spoke. “We know where they are going or at least hope we do. So, it is not necessary for the scouts to stay strictly on their trail. Have them cut north and south of the trail and ride parallel to it.”
Swallowing, Aksel asked. “The point?”
“That way, if Gualbes changes direction, they will know it immediately when they come across the new tracks.”
Aksel’s eyes glinted with amusement. “That is cunning. You are well named, Claw of the Lion.”
“How so?”
“That is how the lion hunts. It is a mighty beast and fast as darts, but tires quickly. Knowing its shortcoming, it hunts as a pride…” Seeing Caros’ expression, he explained. “A pack, with a number going to the left and more to the right. The first hunter than picks its prey, usually a fawn or foal and charges with a great roar. The prey animal usually escapes this first charge and flees. Others of the pride are in hiding and they spring upon it as it passes or take up the chase until one finally brings the prey down.”
“They sound far too smart for normal beasts. Hannibal brought oliphant; he did not bring any of these lions?”
“Three whole galleys. They landed north of Sagunt and were going to be let loose in the city to hunt down the defenders. Alas, you are right, they are very intelligent and the moment one of the sailors let his guard down, they struck.” Aksel tore a piece of the dried meat off wi
th his teeth while emitting a savage growl.
“And? What? They killed and devoured the fool?”
“Oh no! Much worse. They escaped and killed every sailor and warrior onboard and then freed their kind on the other two galleys. By the time we arrived, all fifty had escaped into the countryside. We never found them, but many warriors went missing in the search. I can only assume they are out there. Somewhere.”
Caros’ eyes widened, and he stared beyond the fire into the darkness for a heartbeat. Seeing Aksel’s grin, he threw him a rude gesture.
“May scorpions find their way into your smallclothes! I am going to sleep.”
Despite Aksel’s jesting, he took Caros’ suggestion seriously and the following morning adopted the manoeuvre. Masulian scouting parties hurried off due south and north of the path the main column rode. A rutted, well-used trail cut through the heavily forested land. The passing of a party of horsemen was evident, even on the rocky ground underfoot. By midday, the tall trees of the forest were trapping the day’s heat beneath them and Caros was constantly wetting his lips from his waterskin. He had just reached for the skin again when a scout returned with news. The man pulled his mount up, his face grim. “We found a small village along this trail. There are bodies along its street, cut down.”
“Survivors?”
The scout spat. “We saw movement; some village warriors watching us from cover.”
Caros looked at Aksel. “Could be Gualbes. Hopefully these villagers killed a few more of his men.”
“We will go look, but warily. The villagers will likely be distrustful of strangers right now.” Aksel waved the column on and they broke into a fast trot. The sun had barely moved when they found the small village beside the track. A wall of loosely packed stone circled a score of beehive-shaped stone and daube homes. The low, distressed moans of grieving survivors sounded above the hum of cicadas.
The column halted some distance from the village and Caros, accompanied by Aksel, rode forward, stopping at a safe distance from the walls.
“Greetings the village!” Caros called. The wailing faded and a heavy silence fell over the settlement. Custom dictated that they now wait for the village headman to welcome them or refuse them entry. Caros gestured discreetly with his chin at the blood stained and churned ground beside the track and adjacent to a tilled field. A large iridescent fly landed on his hand and he shooed it off with a shudder.
“If this is the work of Gualbes, I fail to see why he would do this.” Caros spoke quietly.
“Whoever attacked these folks, they did so late yesterday.” Aksel remarked.
“Then we have gained on him, if it was him.”
Aksel nodded toward the village where a warrior had appeared on the wall, a heavy hunting spear held above his head. The man shouted across the distance.
“Greetings, strangers. You visit at an evil time.”
Caros held his hands wide. “It may be that the ones that have harmed your kin are the ones we pursue!”
The warrior set his spear butt down and eyed them distrustfully. Long heartbeats passed before he replied. “I am Stavros of the Ausetani. Who are you?”
“Greetings, Stavros of the Ausetani. My friend here is Aksel, a Masulian chieftain. I am Caros of the Bastetani. We seek a warrior of the Aeronosii, a traitor and deceiver. He rides with two score of his followers.” Caros hawked and spat; testament to the view he held of the man he sought. The warrior grunted and flexed his shoulders before springing to the ground and approaching. Caros noticed now how tall he was and surprised that the man sported no beard, nor did his hair grow beyond the rim of his leather helmet.
Stavros stopped ten paces from them, his spear cradled in his arms. “This is the number of warriors that attacked us.” His voice shook with anger. “Strangers, two score and wealthy. They had no need to attack us.”
“They were well armored and mounted?” Caros asked.
“That and they had silver, much silver. They came upon us just before last nightfall and may have passed through, but for the child.” The man spat. “I saw it happen from the hill there. Cutting trees.” He gestured to the hillock where trees lay felled. “One of the lads that was supposed to be scaring away the crows, he ran towards them, curious like all boys. Still held the bough with the rattles tied to it. One of their horses took fright and reared. A sack split and a river of silver poured onto the ground.”
Aksel looked meaningfully at Caros as the man continued. “They stopped to collect it. The boy helped them and others of the village came out to see what the fuss was. Our mistake.” He slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and where before his voice held anger, now his eyes brimmed with grief and shame.
Caros could picture the unfolding tragedy. Gualbes and his warriors suddenly surrounded by curious villagers, some perhaps armed. The belief the villagers would attack them for the silver. One word of anger and then a spear thrust. Two score of armed and mounted men against villagers. His fury mounting, Caros spoke. “These men, these killers, some rode horses all white in colour?”
After just a brief hesitation, Stavros nodded. “Yes, a handful rode such horses. These are the ones you seek then?” His voiced held an edge of hope.
“Yes, these are our enemy. This crime against your village will not go unpunished Stavros. Be assured of this.” Caros looked beyond the village warrior to where a triangle a blue ocean was visible between distant hills. “Do you know of a place called Long Spears? A village along the coast?”
Stavros grunted. “I do. It is some three days travel from here. We trade there twice a year.”
“Three days by foot? Is there not a quicker route?”
The man frowned and looked uneasily down the column of patiently waiting Masulian horsemen. “I can show you a path that cuts over the hills. Its steep in places and only used by shepherds and hunters. I am not sure you can ride it, but you will reach the coast in no more than a day on foot.”
Aksel, struggling to make sense of the man’s strange dialect looked at Caros. “If a goat can walk it, we can ride it. Will he show us the way?”
“Stavros will you show us this path? We have spare mounts.”
The man paled. “I will gladly show you, but I have never ridden a beast and I am not going to start now. I will run alongside you. Mind that you keep up though for as I said, the path is steep in places.”
Caros smiled. “Very well, we would leave now, you need not bring food; we have enough to share.”
The warrior smiled grimly. “The hope of avenging my people will be food enough. Spare me a moment while I tell my people.” The tall man spun and loped to the wall, which he neatly leaped.
Caros glanced at Aksel with a sad smile. “He might not have been boasting about keeping up.”
“Shaving two days of the chase, we may reach Long Spears before Gualbes. These villagers’ misfortune may well be Gualbes’ undoing.” Aksel grinned coldly.
Stavros returned in short order and Caros noticed he now wore a sturdy pair of sandals that tied high up the shin. “Lock your arm under my knee, between the horse and my leg. This way you will be able to use the mount to increase your speed without becoming winded.”
With some trepidation, the warrior did so. When his arm was locked firmly beneath Caros’ knee, Caros walked the horse forward. “Feel the pace and lengthen your stride with that of the mount. Ready?” At the man’s nod, Caros urged the horse into a slow trot. Beside him, Stavros grunted in surprise as he bounded along with little effort, easily keeping pace even as Caros broke into a moderate canter.
“That way!” Their new guide pointed to their left. A small path, barely visible in the undergrowth at the foot of the forest, revealed itself. Caros guided the horse onto it and immediately the path dipped steeply. He slowed and then seeing the guide was still easily keeping pace increased speed until they were flowing under the trees down the path at a brisk pace. As the man had warned, the track they followed was more a game trail, better suited for
smaller animals. Cursing as the umpteenth bough whipped across his face, Caros lifted his shield before him to bat away the foliage before he lost an eye. They kept a steady pace through valleys and up sheer sided gorges, taking paths he would never have guessed were there. By that afternoon, a familiar scent cut through the leafy odour of spring. The Inland Sea was near. Soon after, he caught a glimpse of the leaden sheen of that body of water on the horizon. Stavros was by now panting and lagging, his arm hooked beneath Caros’ knee, stretched taut. Caros slowed and stopped and the villager extracted his limb and fell to his knees with a cough and groan. Caros slipped off the stallion, waterskin in hand and passed it to the exhausted man. “You have done well. How far to Long Spears do you think?”
Gasping, the man sucked down the watered wine thirstily before answering. “You will not get there today. There’s not enough sun left, but you’ll be there early tomorrow.”
“These men we’re after took the main trail. Will they reach Long Spears tomorrow?”
Stavros rolled his eyes and lifted his shoulders. “Not usually, but them… perhaps.”
As Stavros had promised, the following day the trail they were following became less treacherous and the dense forest began to thin, allowing them a greater view of the Inland Sea. The day was already warm and they relished every hint of cool sea breeze. Pointing to the crest of the steep hill before them, Stavros called. “From there you will be able to see Long Spears to the south.”
Caros reined the stallion in and leaned forward to give the strong horse a pat on the neck, relishing the bond that was forming between them. “Then you have done enough. Follow once the last of the column is past. We will meet in Long Spears.” Stavros disengaged his arm and gave his wrist a rueful rub.
Aksel twisted on his mount at a call from one of his men. “Looks like a scout with some urgent news.”
Maharra Page 16