Odlussus smiled and pointed to two men struggling with a large sack. “I will take the rope across, but I want some help.”
The men around them looked about and a squat Gaul stepped forward, already unclipping his cloak and removing his tunic. He spoke a broken Greek dialect common along the coast and understood at most ports around the Inland Sea. “I do this with you. I swim well so no fear river.” His pale skin fairly glowed in the dark.
“Good, let’s get this done. I want everyone across before the sun rises.” Hanno rubbed his hands together vigorously.
“Aksel and I will cross the moment the rope is secure and take a look around the far shore. Make certain there are no surprises.” Caros winked at Aksel who stood at his side missing his horse. “How are your feet?”
“The gods gave us horses to ride curse you. I feel blood between my toes, I think a nail has come loose.” Men muttered in agreement and others laughed.
Caros clapped Aksel on the shoulder. “Cheer up! You still have nine more and it’ll grow back eh!”
Odlussus entered the river and cursed the cold loudly. “Saur’s aching balls it’s cold!” Two paces behind him the Gaulish mercenary entered. A length of rough, hemp rope tied them to one another in case one slipped. They bore the heavy sack containing the heavier rope across their shoulders. One end was already tied off at the tree and now as they waded cautiously through the rapidly flowing water, they allowed the rope to unspool behind them. The sky was paling and already the first calls of birds were rising from the forests and rushes. Caros watched impatiently as Odlussus and his stout companion slipped and lurched through the river. The heavy rope was hindering them as the current caught and dragged at it. “We need to help them and anchor the rope at the centre. Come Aksel.” He unbuckled his belt and strapped it around his shoulder and neck. Plunging into the river, the current instantly had him bracing his legs. Behind him, Aksel yelped in horror at the icy temperature of the water. They trailed along beside the rope and at the centre of the river; they lifted it over a protruding rock. Hooking the rope around the rock immediately took the strain off Odlussus who lifted a hand in acknowledgment before spooling out the last of its length and scrambling up the shale beach to tie it around a large tree. Caros and Aksel used the rope to pull themselves through the rest of the river’s width and onto the beach beside the mercenary. “That was well done. We need to scout this side of the river. Will you come with us?”
“My blood is cold. A walk will warm me.” He grinned through his blond beard.
Caros eyed the man’s barrel-like chest and scarred knuckles. “You are from the north?”
“Was. Now I fight for silver and see new places.” He dragged his long sword from the sheath hung at his back. “Good for killing Latins.”
Caros’ eyebrows rose as he watched the warrior slash expertly through the air. He used a two-handed grip and his muscles coiled like the rope he had borne across the river. He would be a good man on to have at his side in a fight. “What is your name then warrior?”
“I am Maleric.” The warrior grunted, already scouting the terrain and vegetation ahead.
Aksel’s teeth chattered with cold. “The rest are crossing. They will be here soon.”
Caros pointed up the beach at a small hill. “We can take a good look around from up there in the meantime.”
Odlussus, still blowing from his exertions, joined them as they climbed the hill, the light brightening with every footfall. At the crest, Caros hissed a warning and dropped to a crouch. Below them, moving through the early morning mist, was a line of horsemen. Caros counted a dozen dark forms in the swirling mist. Laughter and curses carried from the warriors crossing the river and Caros winced at how loud they were. The horsemen must have heard it too for they halted. The lead figure barked an order and a pair of riders broke from the line and trotted their mounts up the slope. Caros edged backwards, his hand reaching for his sword while behind him Aksel slid his blade free.
“No killing yet.” He was below the crest of the hill and the riders were out of sight. “The rest will ride to warn the Volcae. We must silence them all. Come!” He whispered urgently and broke into a fast run, cutting across the face of the hill to the south. He guessed the riders would ride that way the moment their scouts saw Hanno’s men crossing the river and he wanted to intercept them all. That they were outnumbered was not too much of a concern as long as they held the element of surprise. He was just not sure how they could stop all the riders. He hit the thick growth and crushed through it into the deep shadows with his three companions at his heels. They were all breathing hard, but there was no time to pause. He led them on, circling the hill and splashing through a muddy stream that sucked at their boots. Caros snarled as he dragged himself clear and in turn pulled Odlussus free of the mud. Then they were away again, silently thankful for the pre-dawn gloom. Caros hit the track and double over, hands on his knees as he fought to regain his breath.
“They will come through here. There must be a way to ensure none escape to raise the alarm.”
Aksel nodded at a copse of trees that straddled the track. “I have an idea.” The copse was thick with old trees and young saplings.
A distant shout drifted to them.
“They have spotted Hanno.” Caros remarked grimly.
Aksel patted a sapling the girth of his upper arm. “With surprise, we can kill a man each with our swords, but after that…” He looked up at the saplings.
Caros grunted and looked dubiously between the young trees and his falcata. “I would prefer using an axe.” He shrugged. “Better get on with it or the buggers will hear us chopping.”
The men used their blades to cut down and strip eight saplings, each the length of two men. They fashioned sharp points on both ends, shaving the heartwood rather than chopping it to lessen the noise they made.
“You two remain on this side. Aksel and I will strike from the other side. Take the first four. Much as it pains me to say it, disable their mounts so they cannot flee.”
Odlussus grunted and Maleric grinned viciously. Darting across the track with Aksel, Caros heard voices raised above the clopping of hooves. He took up a spot overlooking the track and sidled behind a tree, the two makeshift stakes beside him. The horsemen appeared around a bend a hundred paces away. They were bulky with fur cloaks over leather armour. Beards hung in braids to their chests and their hair trailed from beneath bowl-like leather helmets.
They were talking rapidly, their gestures furious. Caros’ eyes narrowed as he gauged the distance and when the two leading horsemen passed below him, he leaped. He rammed the makeshift spear deep into the first rider, slamming him from his horse. From the other side of the track, the Gallic mercenary whooped and launched himself wildly into the line of dumbstruck horsemen. The Gaul gripped a stake in each hand and roaring, he punched one into a horse’s chest and spun about to thrust the second into the belly of a rider.
A horseman snarled and urged his horse forward furiously to break free of the unexpected melee. Aksel sprang onto the track with his outlandish ululation and drove a sapling into the mount’s chest. It screamed and reared, throwing its rider into the mud and brambles alongside the track. At the rear of the column, Odlussus completed the ambush and hurled both rough spears in quick succession, injuring two mounts. The riders were shouting in fear, convinced they were outnumbered. Caros grabbed the second stake and stabbed desperately at a mount, which screamed and stumbled sideways into the rest of the riders.
Regaining their wits, the riders raised their weapons and roared in anger, but Maleric drew their attention with his singing sword. He leaped and slashed at mount and warrior, driving them backwards with his fury. Warriors fell from their rearing horses and scrambled to avoid being crushed by flailing hooves. As was bound to happen, a warrior charged his horse at Aksel who had planted himself in the track. As the man passed, Caros thrust his stake between the horse’s legs, sending it plunging to its knees. Its rider flew over its n
eck and skidded to a stop on his back at Aksel’s feet. The Masulian stabbed the man through the throat and then kicked him hard in the temple, leaving him to bleed out while unconscious. Two horsemen came at Caros, one wielding a sword, the other a spear. He rammed the stake at them and they parted to come at him from either side. He cursed and charged the warrior on his left, driving him back towards the melee where the Gaul and now also Odlussus, were cutting men down like corn being harvested. Aksel shouted a warning and Caros dived and rolled as the spearman rode him down, the spearpoint hissing past his head. The horse turned and Caros rolled onto his back while above him hooves thrashed and descended. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his falcata free and rolled frantically aside. The spearman plunged down with his spear and Caros slashed at the shaft, cutting the lethal point off and then driving the blade up the man’s leg. The warrior cursed and batted him with the splintered shaft. Aksel was suddenly airborne and he toppled the wounded man off his mount. Grabbing the horse by the nose, the Masulian’s skill with horse showed as he bounced and lithely jumped onto its back. He spun the mount and sped after a warrior that had broken free to race south. Caros rolled onto an elbow and looked around. Riderless horses bolted up the track. Two warriors writhed in agony on the ground, their wounds gruesome and mortal. The Gallic mercenary used his sword to still their sobs. Nearby a horse nickered and lumbered on three legs, the fourth hanging bloodied and splintered. Another thrashed on the ground, great vents of steaming breath rising from its nostrils. Caros retrieved his falcata and wiped the mud from it. He advanced on the limping horse and calmed it. It too breathed heavily, labouring with the pain of the shattered limb. Still crooning to the horse, he pivoted and swung the heavy falcata. It was a killing blow and took the mount through the crest of her upper neck. Caros grunted as the mount dropped heavily to the ground, its legs kicking spasmodically and blood drenching the ground.
Maleric grunted, his eyebrow lifting in appreciation of the falcata’s effectiveness. “Good blade. I will deal with the other.”
Odlussus was standing bewildered amongst the dead. Caros caught his eye. “You alright?”
“Four against twelve and we prevailed? The gods must surely favour us today!”
“We need to round up the horses. If they return riderless to their home pastures, we will be found out.” Caros cast another glance into the distance, wondering if Aksel had run down the fleeing warrior.
Chapter 21
Hanno marched his column deep into the countryside on the eastern bank of the Rhone. The land was interspersed with marshes and as the day warmed, clouds of bloodsucking flies rose to cover the warriors’ and infest their eyes and nostrils. The men cursed and griped, but the mud sucking at their boots and the discomforts were a distraction. They were well aware that a chance discovery of their position by the Volcae would likely mean the death of them. Every warrior had heard of the ambush and the lone warrior who had escaped. They had trudged past the corpses, already swarming with iridescent flies.
Caros had gathered three of the enemy’s horses and he and the two Gauls scouted ahead of the marching column. Scanning the hills for evidence of settlements, Caros saw movement on a near hillside. “Rider!”
The three men turned and urged their horses to the rider who had spotted them and was angling away. “He turns to flee!” Maleric shouted and gave a curse as he tried unsuccessfully to urge his horse to break into a trot.
Caros clicked his tongue and his mount leaped forward, leaving Maleric cursing at his back. Near the crest of the hill, his quarry looked over his shoulder and Caros waved. “Whoaa! Aksel!” He shouted. Aksel pulled up and stared before breaking into a smile as Caros raced up the hill to him.
“Caros! I did not think you would be on horseback! I thought for sure you were the enemy!
“You are not the only one who prefers the joys of riding over the rigours of marching.” Caros teased his friend before asking. “What of the Volcae? Did you run him down?”
“Of course. The man rode his horse to death like an idiot instead of pacing it.”
“Other than him, have you seen anymore of the enemy?”
“There is a settlement five stade to the south. We will need to pass it by night I saw no warriors, but there are women foraging in the forests. We are bound to be seen if we try skirting it in daylight.”
“This is good information. Pray be it is the only obstacle.”
Hanno camped the men on a tree-covered slope offering dry ground and a respite from the mud. The warriors had packed hard rations, knowing they would have no opportunity to cook and now they chewed on this while preparing their weapons and armour.
Caros looked about as he walked with the young Barca, the sun casting long shadows at their feet. “Hard to believe there are three thousand warriors camped here. I’ve never heard a camp this hushed.”
Hanno wore a tight expression, his mouth set in a grim line. “This settlement Aksel reports. There is a chance they will discover us.”
Caros heard the strain in the man’s voice and looked at him curiously. “I understand and we are guarding against that happening. It is in the hands of the gods.”
“We must be in position by nightfall tomorrow. I hate to say it, but we must march at night once again. We skirt this settlement in the darkest hour before dawn and that will give us the rest of the day to make our way south.”
Caros stopped to watch a strange bird drill at a tree trunk. It’s long beak struck with such force that the forest echoed with the beat of its hammering. “Once in position, what is the agreed signal and course of action?”
“We alert Hannibal with smoke. Two black and one white. He will launch the barges; heavy infantry assault the barricade while archers and slingers cover from barges moored in the river. We’re to attack once the Volcae are committed at their log walls.”
“It’s a sound plan. With the Volcae pressed against their wall awaiting Hannibal’s warriors to come off the barges, we should come as a nasty surprise hitting them from the rear.” Still he worried that the visions he had seen would come to pass and somehow the Volcae would decimate Hannibal’s army.
All too soon, they were pinning their cloaks at their throats and tying on boots and sandals in the dark. Aksel guided them unerringly south, using his knowledge of the stars to steer them. In time, he slowed and held up a hand. The column ground to a halt and men shuffled and fidgeted, but remained silent. A shift in the light breeze suddenly carried the rancid stench of midden heaps and tang of wood smoke. The settlement was near.
“We should pass between the settlement and the river. We’ll be out of sight of the settlement and the land is fairly flat.”
Hanno shrugged. “Lead on. If we stumble by chance on anyone, it will be a bad thing for them.”
Soon they could hear and smell the river and the ground evened out, allowing them to pick up the pace. Dawn came and passed with no alarm. They struck east, away from the river for they dared not risk being seen by the herdsmen and fishermen who used the river. By midday, they were flagging under the beating sun. Summer was upon them and the heat rose in waves from the land. The column stretched in a long line that snaked across three hills. They marched with their shields and cloaks tied to their backs and helmets bouncing along next to empty waterskins on their belts.
“They do not look like much, but they are veterans. Hannibal has given us the cream of his Africans for this attack.” Hanno spoke alongside Caros.
“I saw how Maleric fought. He was battle mad from the first blow.” Caros recalled. “If they are all like him, we will sweep the Volcae into the Rhone.”
Hanno laughed. “I heard he charged with two spears, one in each hand?”
“Like I said; battle mad!” Caros shook his head.
Aksel whistled to get their attention. “Smoke!” He pointed to the haze, which hung over the distant valley. “That will be the smoke of both our army and the Volcae.”
They had made good time and would be in place
well before sunset. “The men can get a proper night’s rest if we get into position before sunset.” Caros remarked.
“Seems the gods are with us today at least. Let us pray they do not desert us in the night for tomorrow we will need them in battle.” Hanno growled.
The Volcae hunters stood beside their kill, their hands and chins bloodied. They laughed as they ate the still warm liver. From the ridgeline, Caros watched their mounts; nervous they would scent the column and alert their riders. The morning dew was cool against his arms and legs where he lay in the long grass. His voice barely a whisper, he spoke. “On my command, Odlussus you take the fellow with no beard, I’ll take the chap with the blue markings on his face and Aksel, you take the other.”
Behind them, Hanno and three thousand tense warriors waited to light their signal fire. Caros tensed and raised himself until just his toes and his knuckles touched the ground.
“Now!” As if launched by a sling, he burst from the hiding and struck.
The hunters spun about, choking on the bloody liver they chewed. The man with the blue markings moved fastest, cursing he drew his long knife. Caros dropped his shoulder and drove at a full run into the hunter, bowling him clear over the deer carcass. Springing over the animal, Caros hacked down, taking the man in the forehead. His eyes rolled back in his skull and his heels drummed the ground. Another blow stilled him forever. Behind him, Aksel and Odlussus put the sword to the two remaining hunters. They lay stretched beside their kill, blood mingling in the dirt as their shades flew from their corpses. The three warriors stood panting with exertion and battle rage, their swords dripping blood. Caros wiped his blade clean and sheathed it before waving his arms over his head. In moments, a thread of smoke appeared from the top of a crag. The smoke thickened and turned black as thickened olive oil and fat was added.
“Watch for the signal from that side.” Caros pointed west. They all saw it at the same time, a column of black smoke and a column of white smoke beside it.
Maharra Page 24