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  The Arvenci let his shield arm fall limply to his side. He had lost his grip on his spear when the Bastetani’s shield had driven into him. He smiled grudgingly. Even the Greek would have admired the Bastetani’s manoeuvre. He still had his gladius, but the time to use it was now past. Instead, he pushed away from the Bastetani and as he did so, felt the curved falcata tear his already lacerated gut still more as it dragged free. The warrior looked down at his wound and sank to his knees in the gore collecting at his sandaled feet. He looked up once more and saw a young warrior standing before a host of warriors who would crush armies and empires.

  CHAPTER 5

  OVER A THOUSAND HORSEMEN rumbled north along the coastal road from Abdera. These were horsemen, the likes of which had never before been seen by the local inhabitants. They thundered north, appearing in moments and just as quickly disappearing from view in a giant billow of dust. The drumming of their hoof beats gradually dying away, leaving the villagers wide-eyed with surprise.

  At the vanguard rode a complement of two hundred Iberian horsemen. Behind them were a further eight hundred, outlandish riders. These coppery riders dressed in identical tunics and wearing strange headdresses, rode short, rangy horses. That they were expert horsemen was evident, as they used no reins to guide their mounts, relying only on their hold on the animals’ manes and on pressure exerted by their knees and ankles. The host of riders rode with the sun on their backs as they closed on the small port town of Baria. They had been riding hard for two days and had made excellent time, but their Iberian Commander was impatient, eager to get to their destination. They crested a low rise and started down the road on the other side when his eye caught a flash of movement. Ever alert for danger, he quickly signalled to the men behind and they pulled their mounts to an abrupt halt. The Commander watched in surprise for this was no ambush.

  “Saur’s dogs!” Beside him his captain was gaping in astonishment. Gualam inched his horse downhill, the men behind followed and more riders fanned out on the ridgeline as they rode up from the rear. In moments the light horsemen had reached the ridgeline as well and a thousand riders sat their mounts and watched a horseman run down an armoured spearman and best him with just a sword. The rider then turned his attention to yet another warrior wielding a spear. The riders muttered and pointed, watching the lone horseman deftly manoeuvring his mount.

  “Well this is an interesting diversion!” smiled the Commander whose previous impatience to reach his destination was suddenly forgotten.

  “That looks like an Arvenci warrior. He’s a long way from home.” His Captain commented taking in the spectacle with interest.

  “I wager he is about to get a free ride home. That horseman was lucky enough taking out one spearman with just a short sword.” The Commander commented wryly. He was a veteran and knew the advantages a spearman had over a horseman armed only with a sword.

  The Captain’s sharp eyes spotted another corpse in the trampled grass. Opting not to mention it he instead said. “I’ll wager a gold piece on the rider!”

  Gualam started at the wager. It was long odds for a gold piece. With a gruff laugh he accepted. “I pay you too much Drasal. I’ll gladly take your gold piece.”

  The words were still in the air between the two men when a murmur rippled through the watching horsemen.

  “Whoa, I thought he had fallen, that was a great dismount!” Drasal was beaming as he watched the rider dive from his horse, roll to his feet and charge the Arvenci warrior. The host of horsemen on the hill were shouting in excitement at this unexpected sight. Two days of hard riding were suddenly being rewarded with a fine treat. Men began yelling encouragement to one or other of the combatants. The Commander stayed silent, his bet with Drasal gone from his mind as he appraised the now dismounted warrior attack fearlessly. Yes, this was honor and battle. He felt the hair of his neck stand straight as the battle fever coursed through him. The horsemen were inching down the hill, their horses prancing at the excitement they sensed from their riders. Drasal was yelling his man on.

  The warriors met with a clash the riders could hear over their own yelling. A great shout went up as they all recognized the moment. This was the moment of blood. One combatant would triumph; the other would die.

  The Commander squinted to make out the details. “What’s happening? Come on, come on.” Again, the hillside rang with cries as the two combatants stepped apart.

  “By Runeovex, see that?” Drasal was beside himself.

  Even the Commander could see the Arvenci was done for. The man’s guts were ribbons and even as he thought it the Arvenci dropped. The victorious warrior’s entire right arm was crimson with blood. The Commander watched that arm raise the bloodied falcata and then sweep down once more. The Arvenci’s head toppled from his neck and dark fluid pumped briefly skyward.

  “Saur’s dogs that was a sight!” Even the usually brash Drasal sounded somewhat awestruck. Across the hillside the strange horsemen whispered quietly while the Iberian horsemen whooped with excitement. Then a sound began to issue from eight hundred throats. The few Iberians glanced nervously at each other. The Commander raised his eyebrows questioningly to his Captain. “What are the barbarians chanting? I can’t get used to their strangeness.”

  Drasal, who knew the language, listened. “I think they have just given the victor a war name.” Drasal looked at his Commander who was staring at the lone warrior standing over his dead opponent. “They are a vicious lot when it comes to fighting. Once they have proven themselves in battle they are given a second name, a war name. Unusual to bestow a war name on an unknown warrior though.” The big Iberian Captain shrugged his broad shoulders.

  The Commander shook his bearded head. “A war name eh? What is it?

  “The Claw.” Drasal shrugged. “Close as I understand.”

  “Hmm, The Claw. Well come along, let us go meet this warrior.”

  Drasal held out his hand palm down, the ancient sign to pause. His keen eyes had noticed a figure approaching from around a distant spur of rock. Daylight was fading fast, but Drasal could make out that the newcomer was a horseman. He led two mounts behind him. “Over there, another horseman.”

  Gualam stared and made out the approaching rider. “Probably a trader. Come, the light is fading. I want to meet this Claw before we push on.” The Commander shouted to another of his Captains, “Get this lot moving. I want to be on the outskirts of Baria tonight. We will camp there, so set up my fire, and bloody leave something for me to eat!”

  The Iberians grinned and set off up the road. The rest of the horsemen followed at a canter.

  Neugen trotted his mount around the spur leading the two spare mounts, which he’d found hobbled beside the road. He returned to where he had encountered the road having found no indication of the Arvenci as he tracked north towards Baria. Upon discovering the hobbled mounts, he assumed Caros had tracked south, and so followed.

  Concerned that he had not yet come upon Caros, he saw a large glade gleaming softly in the last light of the day. It was a tranquil evening, cooled by a soft breeze blowing off the ocean. This would be a good place to camp. Suddenly his mind sharpened and straining his eyes in the dusk, he saw Caros. His pale grey tunic stood out against the backdrop of a dark copse of trees. Neugen turned his mount into the glade. His eyes were darting everywhere and then they widened in surprise.

  “Gods what the...” he urged his horse into a fast canter, his eyes glued to the far side of the glade. The hill seemed to boil with movement. As he watched, the movement became a flow of horsemen funnelling off the natural amphitheatre and onto the road. He pulled up as he reached Caros. “Who by Saur’s dogs are they?” Then he saw the headless Arvenci corpse. “Oh gods, who the hell is he?” Caros smiled grimly up at him. Neugen felt apprehension roll through him at the cold expression on Caros’ face.

  “We have found them my friend. I could never have without your help.”

  “Them?” Neugen croaked. He spun to where the column of hors
emen rode north.

  Caros frowned; he had not even noticed the horsemen. He breathed in deeply and struggled to remember the last moments. He recalled his blood thundering in his ears, it must have been these horsemen not his blood. He shook his head at Neugen’s bewildered look and then spied two warriors approaching across the glade. “I don’t know who the riders are. They must have only just arrived.”

  Neugen muttered. “I wasn’t gone that long and suddenly the whole world is here in one glade!” He jumped as beside him Caros whistled sharply. The mare had been grazing near the copse and her head came up at the sound. She neighed and trotted over. Caros patted her affectionately before he swung up onto her back.

  He grimaced at the ache that rolled through his strained muscles. “Come on, let’s meet these fellows.” Caros walked his horse toward the oncoming men. He lifted his hand to greet them as they approached and almost recoiled at the sight of his bloodied arm. He lowered it quickly. It seemed inappropriate to greet strangers with an arm covered in blood. “Gods I need a wash.” He grunted at Neugen who just shook his head and lifted his eyebrows. Caros eyed the approaching riders. They were big men and their horses were equally large. He noted the confidence and commanding postures of the men, especially the leading rider. He must command the horde filing up the road. “Evening friends. I am Caros and this is my companion Neugen, a warrior of Alugra’s clan.” The two pairs of riders approached and halted, their horses snorting their own particular equine greeting.

  The Commander studied the young warrior a heartbeat before replying. “Greetings Caros.” He nodded to Neugen. “Neugen. I am Gualam of the Turdetani at Malaka.” He gestured to Drasal, “My Captain, Drasal.” The Commander went on. “We happened to see your encounter as we were riding by.” He glanced towards the darkened grass and shadowy corpses strewn in the field. “Good fight. I’m heartened to see that Bastetani warriors still hold such skills.” He stared at Caros who was swaying uncomfortably on his mare.

  “The Arvenci raided our village and murdered many before stealing away most of our cattle and horses.” Caros replied. “However I am no warrior, I am a trader. My father was a prosperous merchant before these raiders attacked and killed him and the rest of my family.”

  Gualam nodded thoughtfully. It made sense, the young man rode an expensive looking mare, but his armour was mismatched and worn. “Well Caros if you trade as well as you fight then I am doubly glad you are a Bastetani! We’ll need both soon. We are riding as far as Baria tonight. Come along with us, I should like to hear more about these raiders and yourselves.”

  “Thank you Gualam. That is truly appreciated. Neugen and I have ridden far these last days trailing these raiders and a good meal will not go amiss if you are offering?”

  Gualam liked the young warrior-trader. He laughed happily. “I’ll be honoured to share our meal with you both!”

  “Thank you. We’ll catch up with you in a moment. These fellows were camped in those trees and I want to recover any property they plundered.”

  Gualam looked at the darkening clump of oak trees. “Humph. We’ll come with, with a bit of luck there will be one more Arvenci waiting in the dark if you know what I mean.” He smiled.

  They rode slowly into the copse in which it was practically night already. Within the trees, the smell of burned meat was strong on wafts of campfire smoke. The still glowing embers of the fire led them to where the Arvenci had been cooking a meal. A haunch of partly burned mutton had fallen into the fire and Caros’ stomach rumbled with hunger at the aroma. Ignoring the hunger pangs, he dismounted stiffly. Neugen slid from his mount and stirred the warm embers, prompting a brighter glow before adding a handful of dry brush and small branches that lay at hand. Flames flared and in the flickering light Caros quickly spotted the raiders’ belongings. They had travelled light and there were just two small packs perched against a fallen tree. Caros strode over and nudged each with the toe of his sandal. There was no sign of the warhorn. Then he spotted it, set on the old tree trunk and partially obscured in flickering light of the fire. He lifted it reverently and ran a hand over the twisted horn and patchy lynx tail. It was miraculously undamaged.

  “I have it.” He waved it at Neugen who whooped. Caros kicked the other two bundles, scattering their meagre contents.

  Gualam called. “You done, Caros? We have a distance to go before we make camp.”

  “I am.” He called as he scrambled onto his mount.

  Neugen grinned broadly and kicked dirt over the flames, smothering it. “Thank Runeovex! Any longer and I would have been happy to eat this shit. I am that hungry that it actually smells good!”

  The two young Bastetani rode in silence as their new companions set a fast pace, north to Baria. Caros felt a weight had been lifted from his shoulders with the retrieval of the warhorn. He considered it as a gesture of respect to his murdered father. Their deaths would continue to cause him pain, but at that moment he was hungry and tired. He was also intrigued. He wondered at the appearance of the Turdetani commander and the large numbers of horsemen. The Turdetani, the southernmost Iberian people, were a numerous and powerful tribe. His father had often traded successfully in Malaka. He was curious as to why the Turdetani were travelling north. Baria did not seem to be their final destination and yet the riders were travelling light. From the small packs he saw slung behind each rider, he doubted they had food for more than a day or two. These warriors had war on their minds. He shook his head and instantly regretted it. He was light headed and vaguely recalled taking a blow to his head. Hawking, he spat into the gloom. He looked forward to arriving at Baria, hiring a room and eating until he was ill. A wash and a good night’s sleep also figured prominently in his plans. His tunic reeked and had stiffened wherever blood and gore had soaked it. His right arm was darkened with dried blood and he longed to ford a stream so he could at least rinse it.

  Neugen broke his thoughts. “Aah, never thought I would be so happy to see a campfire!”

  Startled, Caros snapped fully awake and rubbed his eyes. He realised he must have fallen asleep even as he rode for there before them flickered countless campfires.

  Gualam bellowed over his shoulder. “We are practically there, boys. Keep going.”

  Caros realised the Turdetani graybeard was aware of how exhausted they were. He smiled in relief at Neugen whose teeth gleamed through his own smile. The camp was vast, but an Iberian Captain had left two men to escort their Commander to where a fire had been banked for him. The four men dismounted at the fireside and men appeared from the dark to take the horses to be watered and rubbed down before being tethered for the night. Caros moved stiffly after the horses and upstream from where they drank thirstily, he stepped into the current of the small stream. He tore off the bloodied tunic and wearing just his smallclothes, sank gratefully up to his waist in the cold water. He used a fistful of sand from the stream to scrub his body, arms and legs. Finally, feeling the dirt and gore wash off his body; he dipped his head below the water and scrubbed his face and hair. Next he rubbed down the tunic, especially the dark patches visible in the glow of a quarter moon. When he emerged from the stream and donned the sodden garment he was shivering, but refreshed.

  Neugen trudged past him, hollow eyed. “What a day. You look better, I thought you might never wash clean!”

  Caros laughed. “Now I just need to get something to eat or my guts are going to twist all night.”

  “You and I both!” Neugen commiserated before turning and falling backwards into the water. Caros laughed at his friend’s antics and headed for the fireside to dry and eat.

  Caros was relived to find food had already been prepared for Gualam’s arrival and the Turdetani was happy to see him and Neugen fed. The four men ate silently. Caros and Neugen chewed every mouthful with relish, savouring the flesh of the spitted fowl that had appeared on the fire. From an iron cauldron they occasionally pulled a wedge of porridge and dipped this into a second similar container that contained stewed lea
ves. Their hunger finally sated, the men wiped their hands on their breeches and reclined on their coats beside the fire. Drasal produced a skin of wine and passed it to Gualam before questioning Caros and Neugen about the Arvenci raid and the subsequent chase led by Alugra.

  As he told of the raid and the hunt for the Arvenci, Caros began to feel that Gualam already knew about the raid. He capped off the tale with an edited version of events after he discovered the three Arvenci warriors.

  Drasal hawked and spat into flames. “We saw that part, the end anyway. You are too modest my friend!”

  Caros shook his head. “The gods favoured me. I should have waited for Neugen.”

  Gualam grunted. “They had the advantage among the trees, but you lured them out. That gave you the advantage, and you used it. That is the way to win battles.” Gualam looked hard at Caros. “Some learn these things over many seasons of campaigns. Others know them intuitively. I think I know which you are.”

  Caros shrugged. “I am a merchant. My father has holdings in many of our ports including Baria and Malaka. Now that this thing is done, I want to rebuild our family home and use the knowledge he gifted me.”

  “It sounds like a profitable way of life and clearly your father has taught you well. I think though that a man with your abilities could also make a good life as a warrior. Return home and tie up your affairs there, then come and ride with my column.” The Turdetani graybeard fixed his eyes on Caros.

  Drasal was smiling and nodding slowly. Caros’ eyes widened, realising that Gualam was offering him an opportunity many levied warriors would grab with both hands. His thoughts flew wildly over what had happened these past few days and the uncertain future. What he said of his father’s holdings was true and Caros could easily take up the reins as a merchant in his own right. He knew the traders and markets after all these years working with his father as well as anyone. He didn’t doubt that he could become very wealthy indeed over time. He even envisaged extending trade north, to the green islands, although right now the demand for iron dug from the hinterland of Iberia was rising. There was so much else he could do as a merchant. That he was a blooded warrior now could even count in his favor, one less guard to protect the merchandise at least, he thought wryly. However the idea of being a career soldier was alluring. There were so many small wars and Alugra seemed to think something larger was brewing. He chided himself, of course there was! He was at a campfire amidst a host of warriors who had more than guarding merchandise or raiding a village or two, on their minds. A good merchant always kept an ear to the ground for any gossip or information that could affect business. His father had told him this many times and gathering such information was sometimes as simple as just asking the right people. “Your offer is very tempting Gualam. I never knew such a strong bond formed so quickly between warriors.” He looked over at Neugen whose eyes were wide with excitement. He had liked the tracker from the first moment and now he knew they would always be as sword brothers, yet Neugen was a warrior first and last. It was his ambition to go on long, bountiful campaigns and grow rich through conquest. “If I may ask; where are you heading with such a large body of warriors?”