Maharra

by J Glenn Bauer

  Caros drew a breath and braced himself. “Not every tribe cares for silver. Some spoil for war while others just want to be left to live as they have always done. When they see an army like this one, I fear they will not believe you come to liberate them.” He shook his head.

  “Wisely spoken. It is true of course; I think most of those tribes we have left behind in Iberia!” After a moment he continued. “Adicran was a good soldier and I have no doubt you played a major role in the treaty we have with both Aeronosii and Andosinni. Other good men have already been sent to treat with the tribes we will encounter Caros. Just across the Rhone, the Volcae have already accepted our advances and have settled for peace.” He smiled dryly. “Four talent of silver helped a lot in their case.”

  Caros looked east. He could smell the great river and see the reflected moon in its waters. The far bank was dark, no flicker of firelight or lamp to mark the land of the Volcae. These were the same tribesmen who took payment for safe passage and then raided the traders that traveled the river. “I have heard they are notorious raiders and treacherous.”

  Hannibal must have smiled in the dark for Caros saw the white of his teeth. “I have heard this as well. I have found though that very often those that are brave when plundering traders are the fleetest of foot when presented with force.”

  Caros turned in a circle taking in the night, the thousand glowing campfires and the dark silhouettes of the hills on either side of the valley. He feared that Hannibal was mistaken and perhaps the Volcae would stand and fight. If ever a place afforded a smaller force the advantage, it was on the far shore of this deep river.

  “If they fight they will use the river. Memories of the Tagus and that bloody battle will never quite leave my mind. We were outnumbered there and yet we prevailed.” Caros paused weighing his next words and Hannibal waited patiently. The General respected good counsel and was the stronger for it. “I never mentioned the Roman galley we came across while hunting Gualbes. It was beached on a remote strip of land while her sailors gathered water. We rode them down and killed the lot of them. They had taken some women captive. We delivered them back to their clan. In exchange they left me with a vision.”

  Now Hannibal pressed Caros when he fell silent. A man’s curiosity is always piqued when the talk is of visions and oracles, so Caros told Hannibal of the visions he had dreamed. When he had finished, he shrugged his shoulders. “Some may say it is the past I see. I myself admit it could be distorted memories of the Tagus. Yet…I feel that this is the place I see in that vision.” Hannibal grunted and stared east. “Perhaps they will stand and fight us, Caros. Perhaps your visions are truly a warning. Be sure, I will not blindly throw away my army. I will think on your words, but tomorrow we begin building the barges needed to ferry the army across.” The general clapped Caros suddenly on the shoulder. “Do you know that I have even brought the Oliphant? Can you imagine how difficult getting them over that river will be? That will be a battle in itself!”

  Caros snorted and laughed, unable to imagine a barge large enough to ferry one of those beasts over water.

  “Come now. The others will think we have abandoned them and returned to Qart Hadasht! Plus, I have a taste for a cup or two of wine.”

  “One thing more.”

  “Speak quickly; these cursed bugs are having a feast of their own at my expense.” Hannibal mumbled, slapping away the mosquitoes that had descended on the pair.

  “The Andosinni fought bravely at Olot and lost many men they can ill afford. I would ask that you grant them a reward for their bravery and honour.” Caros felt confident that the request would not be ignored. He was not disappointed.

  “Very well. Three additional talent of silver will be granted to them.”

  Chapter 20

  Morning arrived bringing a dank, fog-filled chill and the sun appeared only as a watery glow in the east. Caros sat huddled beside a small fire of green branches that billowed more smoke than heat. He rubbed his eyes and wiped at his dripping nose, feeling every bruise and ache acutely. His head throbbed from the excess of wine he had drunk the night before.

  Benny, Aksel’s unofficial cook, appeared and squinted first at Caros and then the pitiful fire with disdain. His face seemed unable to hold the expression for more than a heartbeat before reverting to its usual smiling form. “Caros! You expect me to cook and yet you give me fire a toddler would be ashamed of!”

  “Benny! Look around. Every bastard and his offspring in the army has scoured this valley clean of anything that resembles dry wood.” Caros gestured about in exasperation.

  A groan issued from under a nearby pile of skins and they shifted. A moment later Aksel threw the coverings aside and sat up. He too had celebrated hard the previous night and unused to drinking much, looked drawn and pale. “Aihee, Benny what was that piss you allowed me to drink last night? My head is as heavy as a boulder and my gut on fire.”

  Growling, Benny gave his chieftain a look of annoyance. “I need to fetch wood. I’ll cook you a decent meal to sort you out.” The slight Masulian stalked off into the fog.

  “Don’t fall in the river Benny! The wood there is all wet anyway!” Caros laughed. He cradled his head, instantly regretting raising his voice. “I feel the same way and all I drank was fresh wine.”

  Aksel rose from his bedding and clasped his stomach. “Aah gods…” He stumbled a few paces away and bent to expel the bile from his stomach with a rush. A couple of heaves later he stood up straight and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s better. Now some food and I’ll be fine.”

  Caros sat with his eyes shut tight, partly to avoid the smoke and partly to prevent throwing up as well. In the distance, he heard the singular sound of an Oliphant and then others. His nausea forgotten, he stood and tried to peer through the thick fog. “Hannibal actually brought those things along. He’s going to build barges to ferry them over the river.”

  Aksel laughed. “He could just swim them over.”

  “They swim?” If the thought of them being ferried over the river was laughable, then the image of them actually swimming was absurd.

  Aksel shrugged. “Never seen it myself, but I hear they do. They even suck water up their trunks and wash themselves by blowing it over their bodies.”

  Caros shook his head and snorted. “Whatever you drank last night has turned your mind to vinegar my friend.”

  Benny returned, cradling a handful of dry logs. Beside him limped Odlussus, looking pained. Benny dropped the wood beside the fire with a significant look at Caros.

  “Greetings, Odlussus.” Caros nodded to the Gaul.

  “Greetings, friends.” The warrior grimaced as he sat.

  “It gets better the more you ride.” Caros laughed.

  “I will take your word for it. Right now I have blisters where no blister should ever be.” The tough warrior smirked and rolled his eyes. “You two look like you drank well last night?”

  Caros groaned and felt his stomach roll. “Don’t mention drink. I need a cup of Benny’s tea.”

  Benny harrumphed. “Food, tea, wood! I’m a warrior didn’t you know, not a bloody slave.” Nonetheless, he had the fire burning brightly in no time and began simmer water for the tea. As he did so, he spoke. “I heard men across the river. Warriors. I could hear their armour.”

  Caros stared a moment at Benny wondering if he was playing some trick on him. “Truly?”

  Benny shrugged. “I know what I heard. Couldn’t see worth a fig, but they are over there and plenty of them.”

  “What do you think Aksel, want to go have a look? I’ll wager it’s the Volcae we’ll find over there.”

  Aksel smiled and spat. “You don’t think any tribe with a shred of sense is going to take us on?” Caros stared at his friend silently. “Shit you really think so? Come on then Claw of the Lion. Let’s see who these brave idiots are then.”

  Odlussus swore. “I just sat down.” He was already rising though.

  The three men pas
sed countless sleeping forms, men gathering wood and others relieving themselves beside bushes and rocks. Near the river, the ground grew marshy and soft. Picking their way carefully to avoid the worst of the mud, they reached the riverbank. The fog lay still thicker here and they could see no more than a few paces, not nearly far enough to discern the far bank. The sounds of movement and murmur of voices carried faintly from the far shore. The occasional gruff command echoed across the water, deadened by the fog, but still loud enough.

  “He was right. Sounds like more than a few of the buggers. What do you suppose they are up to?” Aksel wondered.

  Caros listened intently. There was an almost constant hissing sound, rather like something being dragged. The low of an ox caught his ear and it became clear what was happening. “They are building ramparts.”

  Odlussus chuckled. “Of course they are. The next ford is three days north of here and an army this size will take days to cross there.”

  Hannibal’s eyes were brittle in the weak sunshine. The general sat his horse silently, staring across the river, the thinning fog allowing glimpses of activity on the far bank. There, teams of oxen dragged entire tree trunks from the forest. Broad shouldered tribesmen whipped the beasts remorselessly, driving them on without pause. Already a wall of such felled trees had been raised to chest height, held in place by uprights hammered into the earth, their exposed ends whittled to sharp points. The Volcae had set the wall just a spear’s length back from where the riverbank dropped sharply towards the flowing waters of the Rhone. The wall stretched between two small hills which pinned each end of the wall. The hills too, bore fortifications, their steep slopes lending themselves superbly to defence.

  Maharbal hissed and spat between his mount’s twitching ears. “Well, their timing is spot on. By the time the barges are built they will have a cosy palisade ready to receive us.” If it was meant as a joke it was received in silence and the brash warrior, shrugged.

  “They felled those trees days ago.” Caros grunted.

  Hannibal finally moved. He lifted his arms high, stretched his shoulders and rolled his neck, eliciting a series of snaps as his bones straightened. “Our Bastetani ally here warned me last night to be wary of the Volcae.”

  Muttines dug the tip of his long knife under his thumbnail, preening. “I hear there is a smaller ford to the north.”

  Maharbal spat. “We lose days if we make for that ford and since when do we go around anything that stands in our path?”

  The Commanders argued back and forth while Hannibal stared east. Caros walked to his side. “General, I think perhaps you will cross here to send a message to the tribes along your route.”

  Across the river, the tribesmen had noticed the general and his mounted men. Bare-chested and filthy from their labours, they made lewd gestures, laughed and cavorted. More than one dropped his braccae and bared white arse cheeks in their direction. Hannibal remained silent. Caros guessed he was counting the cost of storming an entrenched enemy from barges.

  “Let me lead a thousand warriors at them from the rear. The surprise alone will scare half of them to death.”

  Hannibal grinned. “I like that. Scare the bastards to death eh?” He turned to Caros. “We’ll need four or five days to ready the barges for crossing. Instead of a thousand I’m sending three thousand warriors.” His voice rose, gaining his commanders’ attention. “Hanno. You will take command and Caros, you are to make sure they find the ford and cross.”

  Maharbal grimaced. “That is a dangerous ploy, why send Hanno?”

  The young noble backhanded the Carthaginian commander’s chest. “Jealous a little?” To Hannibal. “I am glad of this opportunity. I need a good battle under me before we reach Rome and this is likely our last chance.”

  Hannibal glared. “Make sure you come back in one piece and pray that Mot, god of death, does not have your scent. I plan to walk Rome’s forum with you all my commanders at my shoulders.”

  Hanno paled at the mention of the god of death and spat hastily.

  Caros broke in. “We will need to leave tonight then. Under the cover of dark so the Volcae suspect nothing.”

  Hannibal reached for Caros’ arm and gripped it tight, his jaws clenched and piercing grey stare burning with fervour. “Go well Claw of the Lion and be the champion you are.” Then dropping his voice. “It will be difficult, but Hanno is bright and happy to take direction.”

  Caros blinked in surprise before cursing the weight Hannibal had so easily burdened him with.

  They ate in silence, teeth tearing at the half-cooked flesh of the fowl they had purchased from local Gauls. Caros spat out a bone and wiped his lips. “Are you up to it Odlussus? This is after all not even your fight.”

  “The Volcae are nasty bastards and deserve to be chastened. I would not miss this fight for all the whores in Massalia.”

  The three men rose as one and tied their cloaks over their armour. Caros twisted and turned then juggled from one foot to the other. Aksel and Odlussus did likewise and the only sound was their booted feet striking the ground. They had no idea if the Volcae had scouts or war bands this side of the river and so opted for stealth. They could not afford to have loose armour or weapons clattering about in the dark.

  They found Hanno at the head of a column of three thousand light African infantry. The column shuffled and murmured in the dark. With no torches to see by, they would be relying on the moonlight.

  “Greetings, Hanno. The gods are kind, there are no clouds.” Caros called.

  “It is still as black as a daemon’s heart out here. This will be some march.” Hanno gestured at the darkness about them. It was true. Even with the moonlight, they would be stumbling over every rock and bush.

  “Better skinned knees than Gauls hunting us.”

  Odlussus grunted. “Hey! I am a Gaul!”

  Aksel elbowed him. “Hiyeee, but you are a tame one.”

  Caros shook his head. “You forget to mention half blind and so old as well.”

  “It is so cursed dark I may just as well have an eye blinking from my arse.” Odlussus retorted easily. Men’s teeth shone in the dark, the whites of their eyes dancing as they blustered and bickered to keep their fears masked.

  Caros gestured to Hanno. “We should make a start. It will be a long march.”

  The column shuffled forward. A night march was not something a commander would readily consider, especially in unfamiliar territory. Too many things could go wrong; the most likely being the column would become split up and contingents lost. Odlussus had assured Caros that he could guide them with ease to the northern ford by routes that would enable them to remain hidden. Still, the column proceeded cautiously, every man swearing and cursing as they inevitably tripped over rocks or stumbled into gullies. Odlussus led them through a forest so dark, the warriors walked with hands wrapped in one another’s belts and Caros cursed him roundly.

  “It is just a narrow neck of trees. Beyond them it will be open country and safe from Volcae spies.” His foot found a root and he fell headlong to the hard ground.

  Caros sighed and reached for the dimly seen hand to haul the Gaul to his feet while Hanno rolled his eyes. The trees gave way to a pasture illuminated by the sap of the moon and the column breathed easier, picking up the pace. When then tripped, they at least now fell into soft spring grass. Owls circled the snaking column, hooting their displeasure at these invaders in their hunting grounds before flying off on silent wings.

  From the rippling grass about them rose a shower of eerily flickering lights. Men cursed in fear and swords hissed from scabbards. Caros, heart in throat, thought the shades the dead were circling them. Oblivious, Odlussus strode through the lights, scattering them. Sensing he was ahead of the column, he paused and looked back. Caros looked at Hanno who returned his stare, eyebrows raised. They started forward, gazing at the glowing green sparks.

  “What…are they?” Hanno questioned in wonderment.

  Odlussus looked about. “These?
Fireflies, you not seen them before?”

  “Err...no. Let’s keep moving.”

  The moon sank and they found themselves struggling along a rocky hillside. Silence was all but impossible as men tripped and fell by the score. By the time they caught the reflection of moonlight off water, more than a score of the men were limping with twisted ankles and barked shins. They coursed down into the valley as quietly as they could, sacrificing speed for stealth. The valley was narrower here and roar of the Rhone tumbling over rocks became their beacon. They had arrived at the ford.

  Caros stared at the white spray that reached across the river. The river was narrow at this point and while that was favourable, the water surged faster and broke in waves over half submerged rocks. They would have a hard time crossing and woe to any man that lost his footing, encumbered by even light armour, it would mean a watery death. In the fading moonlight, Caros saw Hanno’s features tighten as he assessed the narrow ford. “I fear we will lose men here.”

  “Odlussus has told me how the Gauls cross.” Caros pointed at a gnarled tree growing between boulders the size of a wagon. “We tie a rope here and to a tree on the other bank. Men then wade across and form a line along the rope. When they are ready, the rest of the men cross. If any slip and go down, they will wash into the men standing along the rope.”

  Hanno grinned as Caros spoke and his eyes brightening as he understood the plan. “It is a good plan. None need fear crossing other than those tasked to take the rope across, which I am guessing you brought with you?”