Maharra Page 5

  “Chartus take the girls back with you to their homes. We will take the boy with us as we are heading north. We may find his family, but in the meantime he’ll be handy around the camp.”

  Chartus clenched his jaws, “My duty is to my people. If it were not so I would ride with you Caros. The village is stifling, there is no joy there.”

  “You have the heart of a warrior Chartus, of that there is no doubt and I’d be glad of your shield beside mine in battle. Who knows? Maybe one day we will fight together. I feel there is still more war to be done in the seasons ahead.”

  They split at the foot of the hill. The two girls huddled on the back of Chartus’ mount, he holding its reins. They waved as Caros, Jinkata and the Masulians streamed east. The boy rode on the back of a spare mount led by a disgruntled warrior assigned to look after the child.

  Caros’ body stiffened as he rode, and bruises crept over his chest and back while the arrow wound to his leg crusted and stung. Fearing the rot that comes to open wounds, Caros stopped briefly at a trickling mountain spring to remove his filthy tunic and clean the wound. One of the Masulians offered up some ointment that Jinkata recommended Caros smear into the angry furrow torn through his flesh. With his tunic still damp, he remounted. The journey through the hills went swiftly, the column skirting villages and speeding across the countryside in a cloud of dust. The nights were still long at this time of year and cold, so the horsemen rode until darkness was complete and the way became too dangerous to continue. Late on the third day they encountered a pair of Masulian scouts who had come to investigate the dust cloud the column kicked up. They led the way to Aksel’s column.

  Caros slid from his mount and strode to his friend and they embraced, laughing. In his heart, Caros felt the joy of belonging, the men around him a band of faithful comrades, sworn to fight together against all enemies. Aksel held Caros at arm length and studied him.

  “I am well my friend. I have put her shade to rest now with honor.” Caros spoke.

  “You have avenged her?” Aksel’s eyebrows rose.

  “It is done. Sand Jhini arrived at a good time. Now tell me of this task Hannibal has set you?”

  “Not me actually. You remember Adicran?”

  “Adicran?” The name was familiar and then Caros recalled the man. “The Libyan; captain of the general’s guards! He is here?”

  Aksel gestured to the horseman who approached. The Libyan came to a halt beside the two men and slid to the ground. “Bastetani! Ho! You look as though you just stepped from battle! There must be a good story behind all those bruises?”

  Caros smiled at the tall, brawny man he had last seen at the siege of Sagunt. “What have you done to get this assignment, Adicran? You bed the general’s favourite concubine?”

  Adicran had been commander of Hannibal Barca’s honour guard since before the siege of the previous year and so it surprised Caros that he had been assigned this mission.

  “I volunteered wouldn’t you know. All that good food and soft bedding was making me as soft as a merchant. Mostly I needed some excitement.”

  Caros laughed knowingly. “That and the fat purse the General offered right?”

  Adicran blinked in mock innocence before smiling widely. “Well you know our General too well. Yes, he did wave a large purse about and that was pretty persuasive.”

  Aksel ordered his captains to set camp for the night and men came forward to take the horses to be watered and fed. Others rolled out a large mat and set to making a cooking fire nearby. While the column broke up and began settling for the evening, Caros, Aksel and Adicran sat to discuss Hannibal’s orders.

  The Libyan captain removed his conical helmet and swept his braided hair over his shoulders before he spoke. “Your friend here persuaded me to ask for your assistance. He reminded me that you speak many languages and have the mind of a merchant, not to mention the smooth tongue of a trader. That will be useful.”

  Caros’ swiveled his gaze to Aksel who grinned. “It is true. Your skills will be a great help, Caros.”

  “Was this your idea or Hannibal’s?”

  Aksel squirmed uncomfortably and shrugged. “He may have mentioned your name, but only in passing.”

  Caros had spent enough time within the command structure of Hannibal’s army to know something of how the powerful General thought. A suggestion from Hannibal was as good as an order for most men knew the General’s mind worked three or four moves ahead of everyone else.

  Adicran shook his head with a knowing smile. “You know the General thinks highly of you Caros. I am no diplomat and this is a task for such a person. Hannibal needs to cross these lands without battling through the mountain fastness of every tribe that lives here. He requires treaties to allow the army to pass through unchallenged or better yet, allies to join him.”

  “He plans to pass through their lands? Where then is his destination? Does he mean to take Massalia?” The rich port city was staunchly pro-Roman and Hannibal had already tweaked Rome’s sense of fides when he sacked Sagunt. An attack on Massilia might increase the Barca treasury mightily, but Roman retaliation would be swift and brutal. “Attacking Massalia will bring the Roman legions swarming. Hannibal surely does not want a war with Rome?”

  Adicran looked at him strangely. “Caros you must not have heard then that Rome has declared for war. Roman diplomats visited Carthage to demand Hannibal’s head as retribution for the destruction of Sagunt. They sailed back to Rome after the Carthaginian senate refused their demands. Before winter, Carthage and Rome will again be locked in battle.”

  A cold chill passed over Caros at these words. Truly, war between the two greatest powers on the Inland Sea would be a bloody thing. What of his people, the Bastetani of Iberia, caught between these two sides?

  “Now Hannibal marches an army across the mountains to take Massalia. And from there he sails for Rome?”

  Adicran shrugged. “I am tasked with negotiating treaties to allow the army to pass unmolested. Make alliances and arrange levies of warriors where possible. The details of Hannibal’s battle plans are beyond my station.”

  Caros knew that Adicran would know little more than he had been told. Anymore would be rumour and conjecture at this point. He twisted at his braided beard and recalled what he could of the northern tribes, the tribes of the high mountains that ran from the shores of the Inland Sea to the far west. There were many tribes, all were fearsome fighters and few would allow an army to pass uncontested through their lands regardless of its size. The terrain would negate the size of Hannibal’s forces as a few hundred well-armed men would be able to wreak havoc on Hannibal’s warriors in any one of the numerous passes they would be forced to use. Adicran must have been given a royal fortune with which to treat with the tribes. The column’s size was testimony to that.

  “Which tribes are we visiting then?”

  Relief eased the lines around Adicran’s eyes on hearing his words.

  “The Aeronosii and Andosinni. Both tribes have strong defenses along the routes Hannibal is considering. Of the two tribes, we expect that the Aeronosii chieftain is the most likely to agree a price for passage through their land and their chieftain, Gualbes, has already indicated he will receive us as envoys at his fortress city.”

  “Sounds like he is more interested in riches than war. How about the others, the Andosinni?” Caros asked.

  Adicran shrugged, “They’ve been quiet for some while now, peaceful if you can believe it. Their chieftain was by no means as welcoming of an envoy, but he did agree to receive us.”

  Both Adicran and Aksel were eager to get Caros’ opinion of the mission, he could tell this much from their stooped positions, shoulders bent over their knees as they sat. “Aeronosii and Andosinni are neighbors. I recommend we treat with Gualbes first. If he is as accommodating as he has intimated, we strike a treaty with him. This will put the Andosinni at a disadvantage and make it easier for us to force them to negotiate a treaty.” In his mind, he saw the Andosinni c
hieftain forced to take Carthaginian silver or face Hannibal on one front and the Aeronosii on the other. Nothing was certain when it came to treating with the belligerent mountain people.

  “How much do we know of Gualbes? Sons, enemies, that sort of thing?”

  Adicran’s eyes flickered. “I was present when his envoys were received. They were young warriors, full of pride. Arrogant even. They spoke as though Gualbes was a great warlord who had built an empire. If they are any reflection of Gualbes, then he might be a hard negotiator.”

  “Or easy to flatter.” Caros interjected. “The more I hear the more I think Gualbes is the key to the mountains.”

  Chapter 4

  Men cursed the cold and late spring rain, which fell in sheets as they struggled up the twisting mountain trail. Horses slipped and shimmied from side to side, eyes wide in fear at the torrents of water that poured from the rocks all around them like so many writhing serpents. The run-off swept pebbles down the trail, their tumbling sounded like the wings of great beetles and adding to the constant swish of falling rain. Though it was the middle of the day, it was dark under the thick clouds blanketing the sun.

  Caros cursed as his mare passed under a fall of water plunging from the sheer wall on his left. The storm had caught the column traversing the north face of a mountain. In moments, the view of their destination across the steep valley had disappeared as the rain had enveloped them. He groaned inwardly at the work it would take to restore his armour and weapons, scraping away the fingers of rust that etched into the iron. It would not do to appear before Gualbes in tarnished armour. The column topped the mountain, following the trail along its high ridgeline before plunging back into the valley and up to the palisade of Gualbes’ mountain city. The men ahead of them were an advance guard of Libyan knights led by Aeronosii guides. Caros watched them crest the ridge and then trail away to the east and shortly his mare too arrived at the crest of the mountain. As she did so, the clouds at last broke, shredding and scattering to the south like a fleeing army. The sun revealed itself and Caros had to squint against the sudden glare. To the east, the land fell away to the coast and in the rain-washed air, he fancied he could even make out sails on the cobalt waters of the Inland Sea. To the south, the panorama was the same and he stared in awe as the sun rolled back the shadows of the clouds, revealing more and more of the land of Iberia. It was a truly splendid sight and he thought this must be how the eagle feels as it wings across the skies. Beside him, Aksel whistled in awe while Adicran gasped. These men were little used to such heights, coming as they did from the flat plains of Libya and Numidia. Yet, even as their eyes drank in the view, there appeared places where the clouds seemed to have remained. Dark swaths rose from the land like pillars of cloud spewing from the ground.

  “Smoke! Those must be large fires to burn through that deluge.” Caros pointed.

  “Hannibal. He follows us north.” Adicran indicated to the west where more of the dense columns of smoke rose. “There as well. Some of the tribes vowed to resist. They’ll be rueing that decision now.”

  Aksel glanced over his shoulder. “What will Gualbes make of that?”

  Caros pondered this for it might well influence the Aeronosii chieftain’s decision. “It could make our task easier. He will probably be even more willing to accept the silver now that the alternative is visible.”

  Adicran grunted. “Well we’ll find that out on the morrow. Tonight though, we camp here and clean up so we look the part when we arrive.”

  The column of five hundred men and some hundred or so camp followers set to trying to find wood to augment that which they had brought, tied to the backs of pack mules. Adicran had two dark-skinned slaves he had purchased at New Carthage before setting out and these men, skin still glistening from the earlier rains, quickly began clearing the ground and setting up a horsehide pavilion. While this was happening, Caros went looking for the boy who had been riding with the camp followers. He found him crouched beside a pile of tinder, kindling and damp branches, trying to stoke a fire.

  “Here boy, what are you doing?” Caros asked, angrily glaring at the muleteers who avoided his gaze as they unloaded their animals. The boy sat back on his haunches and looked up at Caros with wide eyes. Caros saw the fear in the child’s face and smiled at him. “You do not speak much do you? Ah, well that may a good thing though unnatural. A boy your age should be asking questions all the time.” Caros fondly remembered his father complaining to his mother of his unending questions. “Come along with me. You are to always come and find me when we make camp.” The child looked accusingly at the muleteers who quickly looked away and busied themselves. Still he made no move to rise. Caros gestured to him to follow and at this, the boy rose and trotted beside the tall warrior back to the pavilion.

  “This is where we sleep. You as well. Understand?”

  The child blinked vacantly and Caros wondered if he was a mute or perhaps spoke a foreign tongue. Looking him over, Caros shook his head. The child had been washed and one of the women from among the camp followers had provided him with a newer tunic, but he still looked like an orphan. Other than that, he looked fine physically, a sturdy little chap with a good strong set of shoulders and firm chin. It was unlikely Caros would ever discover his family, but he was prepared for that. There was no end to the young boys that rode with warriors to war, serving as fetchers and cleaners. Finding a flat-topped rock, rainwater still steaming off it under the sun, Caros sat and removed his armour and the sodden padding under it. When he was down to just his tunic, he pointed to the sodden heap, already looking tarnished by the wet. “Clean these for me boy and make sure they are dried by tomorrow.” He studied the child’s response to see if he understood. The boy eyed the pile of armour and padding before grasping the bundle and trying to lift it all. It was too heavy for his little arms and so he began to remove the padding and industriously laid this out on nearby rocks to dry in the wind and sun. With an approving nod, Caros went to join Adicran beside one of the two small fires already burning. The Libyan had similarly removed his armour and was sitting in just his loincloths while his garments dried. Two slaves bustled beside the second fire, arranging pots in which they were boiling up gruel to serve the commanders. Caros’ stomach awoke at the aroma and grumbled.

  “Thanks to Endovex that blasted rain ceased. We should be presentable by tomorrow.” Adicran looked up at the clear skies.

  “We need to discuss how we are going to approach this Gualbes tomorrow.”

  Adicran grunted and waved away smoke from his eyes. “You have any thoughts on it?”

  Caros did and he voiced them. “A few. Firstly, what exactly is my role and secondly what is the scope of the arrangements you are permitted to make on behalf of the Barcas?”

  They spoke until the slaves brought them the gruel in wooden bowls. Aksel arrived and sitting on a rock, called for a bowl. “Two warriors have been injured further down the mountain. They claimed lightening scared their horses into flight and they were unhorsed. One man cracked his ribs and head the other has a broken leg.”

  Caros respected the Masulian Commander’s concern for his men’s wellbeing. In most Iberian columns, such injuries did not feature amongst the leading man’s concerns. The men rode and fought as a column, but the kin of the injured men usually attended injuries.

  “If all goes well tomorrow, they will be able to recover their health under Gualbes’ protection.” Adicran observed.

  “That is another thing. How much time do we have to negotiate these treaties? It could take days to reach a final compromise with Gualbes. How close behind us does Hannibal’s force march?”

  Aksel lowered the bowl from his lips. “I am in contact with his advance forces. They are ten days behind us, with Hannibal himself four days behind them.”

  “We need to work fast.” Adicran mused.

  “Yet not appear to be in a hurry or Gualbes will extract a greater price.” Caros warned. This was a negotiation and he knew both parties
would leverage any sign of weakness. “What of the Andosinni chief?”

  Adicran shrugged and because the sun was now just a glowing red orb in the west with no heat, drew a robe across his shoulders. “He is newly raised to his position although not a young man. A boar killed his father last summer. His name is Jornican.”

  Caros considered this information. The Andosinni chief was likely still trying to consolidate his chieftainship among his people and often a successful war was the quickest way to achieve this. Would he risk war with an army the size of which must outnumber his own forces many times over? Caros decided there was little more he could do until he met Jornican. He finished the gruel and wiped the bowl clean with the last of the bread the slaves had hastily baked on flat stones beside the fire. The cold was becoming uncomfortable and his tunic were still damp. He rose and padded barefoot over to where the boy was scrubbing his armour. The greaves had been scrubbed until they shone and then wiped with raw wool, imparting a slick sheen to them. The oil in the wool would also prevent them tarnishing. Caros checked on the padding and found the boy had been turning it regularly. It was still moist and smelled dank.

  “When the cuirass is done put this beside the cook fire when you eat and be sure no sparks find it. The slaves have kept some gruel and bread for you. Do not be too long or that food will disappear. That is what happens when many warriors gather, but you would not know that, eh.”

  The boy paused and looked up at Caros, his face pale in the twilight. “Did you kill the priestess?”

  Caros blinked in surprise. These were the first words the child had uttered. Regaining his wits, he answered. “I did, yes.” He paused and the child resumed his scrubbing, collecting sand from between his little feet and rubbing it across the metal. “You know why don’t you?”