Maharra Read online

  “Err, yes.” He frowned quizzically and glanced around at the four young warriors. “Yes definitely, men like you would without doubt have helped matters.”

  Caros stretched out a hand, gesturing to the empty benches at their table. “Have a drink here with us. Bought with Saguntine silver. We will tell you of our battles. All true!”

  The sun had long since set and the patrons of the cantina were raucous as crows on a corpse. Caros watched the eyelids of the young warriors drooping along with the wrists holding their ever-full cups. Neugen was matching them drink for drink while Caros paced himself and felt only mildly drunk. The two men had told the awestruck young Bastetani of the fire-javelins, the sorties after dark, the rocks and darts thrown from walls and rooftops. They had not had to invent a single tale. Having fought through the thickest of the fighting they could have comfortably told of a thousand bloody ways a man could die while assaulting a walled city. All the while they kept the serving women busy refilling their cups. At a point Neugen and Caros stepped out into the narrow street to empty their bladders against a wall.

  “Those lads are truly pissed if that was your intention.” Neugen hiccupped.

  “It is. Thanks for playing along.”

  “Playing along! Ha! I’m not playing along, I’ve matched them drink for drink and by Saur I’m going to sleep well tonight and pay the price tomorrow.”

  Caros laughed. “Then think of the pain they’ll be in. They will like as not go to sleep with their bellies full of beer and no water. Tomorrow they are going to be in a world of hurt.” He drew Neugen away from the light spilling from the open doorway of the cantina. A man staggered past and cursed them as he stumbled. Once he had passed out of earshot, Caros continued. “At least one of them knows something of Catubodua, I saw him react when I mentioned the goddess. I’ll wager he and his friends are followers or know of them and if so they may lead me to Carmesina.”

  “Their witch likely died in Sagunt. You saw what was left of their citadel. She too burned to death…” His words trailed away awkwardly for Ilimic, Caros’ betrothed, had burned to death in the same inferno.

  “I don’t believe it. The witch lived in Sagunt all her life. She crept into some little hole and hid. No, she lived and she is out there, maybe even right here in Tagilit. If so, I want to find her and those lads know something.”

  Neugen knew better than to argue with Caros. Once his friend’s mind was set, particularly in things of honour, no words would sway him. “Well any more beer and you’ll need to wait till tomorrow for an answer, they’re about to drop off their benches.”

  Caros leaned close and told Neugen his plan.

  Two of the youths slouched, heads hanging low. Just as Neugen had observed, they were almost unconscious. The other two were arguing over the picked remains of a chicken they had consumed earlier. Caros winked at Neugen.

  “Well chaps, you know what they say about beer hey, you don’t really buy it you just hire it.” Caros laughed and slapped his hand on the table at the tired old joke, exaggerating how drunk he was.

  Neugen took the opportunity to lay the trap. “You best have kept the alms aside Caros. It will go badly if you’ve squandered them on beer.”

  Caros winced at Neugen’s wooden recital of the words he had told him to speak and hoped the four warriors were too stupefied by the drink to notice. “No fear my friend.” He patted his tunic, indicating he had the alms safe beside his body. “What belongs to Catubodua belongs only to the Goddess.” One of the young warriors stiffened and swung his head heavily around to stare at Caros who smiled languidly at him. “As I said earlier, the silver is from Sagunt, much of it from Catubodua’s temple. I must see that it returns to its rightful owner. Perhaps you could show us to her shrine as our promised guide has not shown up?”

  The oldest of them rose unsteadily, his face turning red. “You plied us with drink all this time just to find out the whereabouts of the shrine. You have no love for the Priestess or Catubodua, I heard your friend curse her earlier! May she send you lost to the lands of Saur with his dogs tearing your flesh.” His voice grew shrill and spittle flew from his thick lips.

  Caros sighed and leaned back to avoid the spittle spraying from the youth’s mouth. He looked across at Neugen who gave brief nod. Rising from the bench, he drove his fist into the chest of the enraged warrior. The blow knocked him across his seat and arse over nose onto the floor where he curled, grunting and wheezing through tears. Neugen moved as another of the warriors cursed and made to reach for Caros. His hands latched onto the back of the young warrior’s neck and slammed his head into the table, sending cups and chicken bones bouncing. Men nearby laughed and shouted encouragement at the spectacle while others glowered at Caros and Neugen. Caros sized up the situation and signaled to Neugen who tipped his head in acknowledgment. The two men sidled together and backed out of the cantina, hands on the hilts of their sheathed blades. The last thing he wanted was to draw others into the fight.

  Once outside Neugen chuckled. “I do not think they bought your story, but it was fun knocking a few heads around, eh?”

  Caros grinned conspiratorially at his friend. “The game is just beginning. Come.” He took Neugen by the elbow and led him down the dark street to where a cart stood drunkenly on one good wheel, the other splintered beyond repair. The two men squeezed between the cart and the rough adobe of a building and crouched low.

  “Will not be long now.” Caros whispered.

  Neugen’s teeth gleamed white in the dark as a knowing grin split his lips. “Ah, I see. Stir the burrow and see where the little bunnies flee to eh. Sound plan.”

  Moments later shouting issued from down the street and the noise from within the cantina erupted onto the street as the door flung open. A small press of bodies emerged and Caros caught sight of the youths in the light spilling from the doorway. The door closed and darkness closed over them. There was a moment of violent retching and loud mockery before the sound of staggering footsteps grew closer. Mumbling petulantly, the young warriors passed by the tilted cart and on down the street. Neugen began sniggered between hiccups and Caros elbowed him roughly. They waited until the youths were out of sight, but could still be heard staggering and grumbling in the dark before following. The two men rose and paced carefully after them, keeping to the dark and treading lightly over the rubbish-strewn road. The youths threaded north through the fringe of Tagilit, oblivious to the shadows keeping pace behind them, until they came to a track leading away from the centre of the settlement. Here they said their farewells to one of their group who then stumbled off into a nearby cluster of homes. The others made their way down the track. For no particular reason, Caros pointed after the trio disappearing down the track and the two men followed. A faint light showed from beyond a copse of trees. Caros guessed this was their destination and as they neared it, he loosened his falcata in its sheath. A dog barked and swiftly another and then another joined.

  “Damn! No chance of slipping in there.” Neugen cursed softly and spat.

  Caros shook his head, but continued on, his footfalls silent on the hard packed dirt. Ahead, one of the young warriors shouted a curse at the dogs, silencing them. The two men crept closer to the yard that fronted the building and watched as the drunken lads tripped up onto the wooden portico at the front of the house and banged through the front door. As it closed, he heard a woman’s voice raised from within the house. His ears pricked and the hair on his neck stood. He looked to Neugen who was squinting around the yard. “Let get closer. Keep an eye out.”

  “You’re crazy. That’s a big house, there could be a dozen men in there.”

  Caros considered this briefly and then shrugged. “Shit, so what? Six each!”

  Neugen snorted a laugh. “Well put it like that…”

  “Gods you’re pissed. Stay quiet and keep an eye out for those dogs.”

  They scurried across the yard, keeping to the side furthest from where they had heard the dogs earlier. The
house was a solid building, its lower walls built of fitted stone and the upper reaches of timber and adobe. The whole of the squat structure was roofed with thatch from which bats flitted with barely audible squeaks. With his heart thumping in expectation, Caros ran the last paces to the building and went down in a crouch; his back pressed tight to the wall as he waited for Neugen who seemed to take his precious time crossing the yard. A dog barked once from the other side of the yard, otherwise it was quiet. Neugen dropped to a knee beside Caros and in the weak light of the new moon; Caros could just make out his friend lift his eyebrows questioningly. Caros sidled along the wall until he reached a shuttered window. The shuttering let through a discernable glow and hoping to get a look inside the house, he straightened up quietly. Holding his breath, he peered through a large gap where the shutters met. The light came from an oil lamp, its flame dancing wildly in the draught caused by the room’s occupants.

  Two of the warriors he had followed stood before a large man seated at a table while in the shadows to his side, stood a tall woman. Caros caught the sound of her voice as she talked, but with her back to him, he could not make out what she said or if she was the witch priestess. The young warriors looked between the man and woman and in answer to a question asked, one answered. “But what if they were lying? If they want to pay alms they will still be there tomorrow…” The woman stepped forward and slapped him hard across the cheek. The ringing blow snapped the warrior’s head to the side and Caros winced. Neugen may have been right about the women of Tagilit he thought.

  “You will go this night and find where they are staying. If they have silver, we must be sure we receive it. Did they ask after Carmesina?”

  The seated man looked towards the shutters suddenly and Caros ducked quickly, missing the youth’s answer. He slid down the wall and grinned at Neugen. The woman had mentioned Carmesina. His gamble had paid off and he could at last seek blood-payment from the witch for the death of Ilimic. He thought to tell Neugen, but the sound of his voice below the window could carry. He tugged Neugen’s arm and they moved, still doubled over, toward the rear of the home. The shadows were deepest there as a large tree blocked what little starlight there was. There would be a back door, probably opening onto an outdoor kitchen and firepit. Caros rounded the corner of the building cautiously, eyes wide and as he’d learned to do, making use of his peripheral vision to better detect any movement in the dark. He was afraid of stumbling across the dogs and there was a third warrior somewhere about. It was dark as the land of the dead under the tree, but appeared deserted.

  Neugen tapped his shoulder and whispered. “What were they on about in there?”

  Caros was about to explain when he heard the hiss. His heart leaped as he recognised the sound and he cursed. Beside him, Neugen half drew his blade in shock and then the night erupted in a cacophony of honking as a flock of startled geese gave vent to their alarm. Immediately, the answering bark of dogs sounded from the dark and a voice shout from within the house. Caros felt the wings of the geese buffeting his shins along with the stab of their angry beaks. All hope of stealth gone; he drew his falcata. “They are followers of Catubodua, that is a certainty and they know of the priestess.”

  “If you kill these people there will be a blood debt. You know this.”

  “I will do what I must to find her. Are you with me?” He spotted the doorway, light from within, framing its edges. The barking hounds were rapidly closing and shouts were growing louder inside the building. Caros strode to the doorway and drove the flat of his boot against it. The wooden bolt holding the door shut from the inside splintered and the sturdy door burst inwards. Caros followed it into the room beyond and stumbled between benches towards a light rapidly growing down a passageway. Behind him, Neugen slammed the door shut on the barking hounds, which threw themselves against it. Caros shoved a bench towards Neugen who grabbed it and wedged it up against the door to keep it shut against the canine brigade on the other side. Caros turned to face a warrior approaching down the passage towards them. An oil lamp held high by a figure behind him cast his face in shadow. Caros hoped it was one of the inexperienced youths and not some scarred veteran of a dozen campaigns. The warrior shouted out. “Who are you? This is the home of our patron, Chieftain Zargara, who are you!”

  Caros smiled at the tremor he detected in the voice. Neugen moved to stand beside him and together they closed on the mouth of the passage. Their silence unnerved the approaching warrior and he paused uncertainly. The person holding the lamp cursed and pushed him forward. “Who are you? What is it you want? Do you need our aid?” The warrior stepped a mere half pace toward them before again pausing.

  Caros watched him in silence for a heartbeat before answering. “We would see the priestess.”

  “It is you! Why do you come here like thieves in the dark?”

  “Careful boy.” Neugen growled. “Insults like that have a tendency to end with someone leaking blood.”

  Caros stepped towards the warrior cowering behind a shield and wielding a knife. “There’ll be no blood. I would talk to the priestess. Now!”

  The warrior flinched backwards at the sudden deadly tone in Caros’ voice. “You have the alms?” He asked through a voice made reedy by fear.

  Caros did not bother to reply. “Priestess! I would speak with you! Come forward or I’ll tear your men apart and then we’ll chat anyway and it’s a long while to dawn, so maybe chatting is not all we’ll do.”

  From behind the frightened warrior came a growl of anger and impotent rage and a man’s voice shouted. “You are in the home of a chieftain of the Bastetani and I am that chieftain, I am Zargara. I’ll see your tongue drawn from your slit throat before the next nightfall!”

  Caros shot a quick look at Neugen who shrugged. “A chieftain of a minor clan.”

  “Chief Zargara! I am Caros, Son of Joaquim of Orze. I seek the priestess of Catubodua and wish neither you nor your kin or clan harm.” Silence fell as his words were weighed. Heartbeats passed and Caros was on the verge of taking action when bodies shuffled in the passage behind the warrior. A woman stepped from behind him, her face in shadows, but Caros recognised the figure as that of the woman he had seen through the shutters.

  Standing tall and unafraid, she spoke with clipped words. “What is your business with the priestess?”

  Caros measured his reply. “My business is with Carmesina alone. I have no desire to discuss it with strangers and have traveled far to see her. Where is she??” Her shoulders stiffen at his words and he wished he could read her expression.

  “Your travels must continue for the one you seek has fled from this place. I am Priestess Ursuleasa and on my word, this Carmesina is an evil being not fit to be called a priestess of Catubodua.”

  Caros glowered at the woman, but she stared at him unbending. Finally, sure she was speaking the truth, he inclined his head. “Perhaps then you know where I can find her?” He adopted a conciliatory tone.

  “Why is it you seek her?” Her answer followed close on his question, as though she hoped his answer would satisfy.

  He shook his head from side to side slowly. “She caused the woman I love to die and for that I will return the favour.”

  Slowly her shoulders relaxed and her expression softened. “It is as I said; Carmesina is evil. Her ways are beyond the bounds and her blood lust can never be sated.”

  Impatiently Caros flicked his wrist. “Where do I find her?”

  Pursing her lips, she replied. “North. She seeks adherents in the north. There is a village…”

  Since that night, he had chased north and west and east and south. Knowing better than to try talk Caros out of it, Neugen had offered to ride with him, but Caros had refused as this was very much his personal blood feud. Tired and stinking, he hoped that here at this village he would finally end the hunt.

  Chapter 2

  The stink of the past winter’s dying seeped from the settlement and leeched into the flat lands surrounding it. Blowfli
es lifted at some unseen signal, to swarm and swoop like the murmurations of iridescent starlings, above midden heaps dumped carelessly beside a once clear stream. White-bellied fish drifted upturned in the poisonous water, schooling together in death as they had in life. The hunched backs of farmers who toiled at the sparse soil, dotted the fields in clusters. Children, some that looked to have just learned to walk, manoeuvred in the sweeping lines of a miniature army across the fields, brandishing branches above their heads and yelling their shrill war cries. Their foe held the high ground and circled, answering with their own raucous calls before swooping low to conquer some unguarded corner of land and loot the earth of the dry seed sown there.

  A stealthy breeze lifted the miasma of rot from the stream, blended it with the decay emanating from the midden heaps to weave before the man atop his mount. The mottled purple scar stretching from above his eye to behind his ear writhed with the clenching of his jaw, the only sign that he noticed the stink. With eyes, the dark green-brown of olives, he viewed the fields and scrutinized the gates to the settlement. One of these hung open while the other slumped broken and useless against the palisade. An old man sat and directed two youths as they chopped and sawed new timber to rebuild the splintered gate. He looked up at the horseman with a wistful gaze, perhaps recognizing himself, as he had been just a few years ago; strong and agile with sturdy legs and strong arms. He allowed a slight nod to Caros before turning his attention back to the carpenters, one arm shrivelled and dead at his side and just a single leg stretched before him. Rocking fluidly to the step of his horse, the rider recognized the signs of war. Not battle, but war. Such was the countryside wherever his journeying took him these days. Battles between tribes had grown from traditional late summer sorties to all-out war between tribes loyal to themselves only and those that fought beside the Carthaginians. Men of true warrior age were growing fewer by the day as the armies of Hannibal absorbed them as levies or cut them down as enemies.