Maharra Read online

  Gualbes spoke, his words breaking the spell that had trapped Caros in the blink of an eye. “Laia of the Andosinni. My hearth-wife since this autumn past.” Gualbes rose and a smile played across his face as he looked at his elegant wife. That his gaze was unrequited was not lost on Caros and he noticed a flash of annoyance in the chieftain’s eye. “Welcome our guests Laia. These are the envoys from Carthage which we were awaiting.”

  Adicran rose and Caros followed his lead. “Greetings from Carthage and our General, Hannibal Barca, son of Hamilcar. I am Adicran, son of Adicran and my companion is Caros, son of Joaquim.”

  “Greetings, Adicran son of Adicran.” Laia turned her face to look at Caros who stood mute. “Greetings, Caros son of Joaquim.”

  Caros smiled and removed his helmet, as was custom when addressing the wives of Bastetani nobles. “Greetings Laia, hearth-wife of Gualbes.”

  Gualbes looked at Caros with a strange expression, his eyes flicking to the prominent battle scar. “Sit with us, Laia. It is early in the day yet and the warriors not so boisterous. Besides, if I have judged it correct, you have a thousand questions for our guests here.”

  For a moment Caros thought she would refuse and his heart slowed. Instead, she signaled to a warrior and the man sullenly vacated his seat for her. Silently, Laia sat and turned to face the guests. Gualbes called for a drinking horn for his wife and a cup was proffered, filled with the same fermented grain drink they all shared. Laia, her eyes fixed on Adicran and Caros lifted it to her mouth and drank deeply. As she lifted her cup to drink, her dress fell open below her arm where no sleeve was sewn, exposing the pale skin of her breast. Caros willed himself not to stare and groped for his cup while Adicran made small talk.

  Gualbes wanted to know of the siege of Sagunt the previous year. He had clearly heard many second-hand accounts of the bloody horror of that siege.

  “I hear that Hannibal fired the city, burned it to the ground rather than face the citizens. Is this how Carthage wages war then?”

  Adicran coughed into his hand to gather himself. “The outer city was put to flame it is true. This was that part of the city the citizens had deserted…” He got no further for Castrodubis, who had been glaring at the two envoys in silence all the while, interrupted him.

  “Hannibal used fire to route the defenders because his army were too weak to enter.” The big warrior snarled and then seeing the look on Gualbes face added. “This is a story told by some who came this way after. I guess it’s a lie.”

  Adicran to his credit, smiled. “There are doubtless many stories told of that battle. I was there that day and I saw the carnage our blades caused. It was a mighty battle as was each one after until only one army remained.” His tone remained light, with no boast inflected in it. Just a certainty that Hannibal’s army had been victorious as was to be expected.

  Gualbes grunted, knowing he would get nothing more about the siege from the envoys. He gave Castrodubis a black look.

  “You are from Carthage Adicran?” Laia spoke quietly, but her voice carried over the noise of the mass of warriors, women and children on the common.

  “I am Libyan. Carthage and Libya have a close understanding that benefits each nation. I have served in the Carthaginian army for many years now.”

  “What of you Caros? How do you come to serve Carthage?

  “I am of the Bastetani people and am privileged to serve both the Bastetani and Hannibal. As with the Libyans, the Bastetani, Turdetani and many other peoples of Iberia have found that an alliance with Carthage brings prosperity.” Laia was watching him closely as he spoke and a smothered smile flickered across her lips.

  “Spoken like a true diplomat Caros. Have you visited Carthage? What is it like, this great African city?”

  Gualbes snorted and laughed. “Laia will want to know what the market for new cloth is like.”

  Laia ignored her hearth-mate and looked expectantly at Caros who inclined his head. “I have not visited Carthage. Perhaps in time, I will. I have seen Cartagena though. It in itself is an impressive city, with all manner of exotic people, customs, foods and even creatures.”

  For the first time, a small smile formed on her lips as she listened to Caros describe the wonders of a city civilized to a degree not comparable to most Iberian settlements.

  Chapter 6

  In the highest eaves of the hall where the darkness was complete, something rippled and twisted. The movement was accompanied by a whispered rustling. Caros grunted and sat up. All about him were the still sleeping warriors of Olot. The smell in the hall was thick with the stench of stale drink and bodies. He peered up into the eaves where, judging by the sound, a great number of rats or mice lived. He grimaced as a streak of piss, illuminated for a moment by a shaft of sunlight, fall from above to splash onto a sleeping man’s hand.

  He rose and oriented himself amongst the carpet of sleeping warriors splayed over the rush-covered planking. Carrying his armour and scabbard in one hand, he steadied himself with the other as he high-stepped over their sleeping forms. Above him, the rustling grew louder still, and he turned. A black squall, straight from the land of the dead, swooped down upon him from the dark. A daemon, pulsating and beating with a legion of claws and teeth. His shock took him back two steps before he tripped over a sleeping warrior while the black presence closed over him. Cursing, he stumbled and dropped his armour before sprawling across several warriors. In a heartbeat, men woke with curses while Caros stared in horror at the black demon as it passed above him and swirled about to retreat into the eaves. One of the Aeronosii warriors scowled at Caros and then saw the direction of his stare. With sudden understanding, the man bellowed out a laugh. Still laughing he began yelling to the men grumbling and cursing in the hall.

  “The Carthaginian sandal-licker here is afraid of bats! He fair pissed himself at the sight of them!”

  Others smirked and began to laugh as Caros grabbed his armour and with a muttered curse, barged out the hall, making sure to stomp on knees and elbows as he went.

  Adicran had risen and was now close on his heels. “What is going on Caros? What is this about bats?” The Libyan’s face was a picture of confusion.

  “Cursed place is infested with the pissing things. Look at the bat shit all over my clothes. They were shitting and pissing on us all night!”

  True enough both Adicran and Caros were spotted with the stains of countless bat droppings. Adicran took in the state of his tunic and armour. “It will wash off. What were the goat turds laughing about?”

  “The bastard things flew straight at me. Startled me and I tripped over one of the idiots.” He glared at Adicran and swore. “Oh, Saur’s nuts! You are going remind me of this every time you want to have a laugh!”

  Adicran’s eyebrows lifted high. “What do you think ‘Claw of the Lion’?” His eyes danced in amusement and then his features changed and Caros followed his gaze. Gualbes was approaching. The big warrior chieftain was dressed in a dark green tunic that reached to mid thigh. On his legs, he wore detailed bronze greaves that matched those on his forearms. Over his tunic, he wore an expensive looking chain mail shirt complete with leather and wool padding, enhancing his already powerful physique. The well-polished iron helmet on his head added to his height and topped off the image of a powerful mountain warrior.

  Caros took in the chieftain’s appearance and considered their own. The Aeronosii chieftain was cunning, he would grant him that and this was just the beginning of the negotiations.

  “Looks like Gualbes is playing us a little here Adicran.”

  “Well that’s why I have you here Caros. Bat shit aside, I trust you’ll haggle decent terms.” Caros grunted and dusted himself off as best he could as the chieftain strode up to the two men.

  “Greetings my friends! I trust you slept well and are looking forward to a good breakfast?”

  Adicran flashed the chieftain a wide grin. “The hospitality shown to us by your people and yourself has been inspiring and thank yo
u, indeed we slept well!”

  Gualbes squinted a moment at Adicran as though skeptical, but then gave a deep chuckle.

  “We have much to do today so it is good to see you have risen so early. Come, please follow me.” The chieftain ushered the two men along to where women stirred a number of fire-blackened cauldrons hanging above cook fires. “I find that the more I eat in the evening the hungrier I am when I wake. We should be able to eat our fill soon enough.” The chieftain gestured to Caros and Adicran to take a seat on the timber benches set about the fires.

  “Once we’ve eaten we’ll need to see to our men and wash. You mentioned we had much to do today?” As Caros spoke, he noticed more Aeronosii warriors appearing and taking up seats around them.

  Gualbes stretched casually, his thick arms bulging with muscle. “Of course. I have arranged for a guide to show your men to where they can bury the warrior killed by the brigands.”

  A young girl brought two bowls of hot porridge and placed them in front of Caros and Adicran. Caros sniffed appreciatively at the scent of honey mixed into the porridge. More bowls of the steaming hot food were brought by youngsters to the warriors and soon all were slurping the hot contents, perfect for reviving their bodies after the excesses of the night before.

  “Thank you for the meal and for arranging the guide. It is heartening for warriors to know their fallen comrades are treated in accordance with their customs, even when far from their lands.” Adicran spoke between mouthfuls of the tasty porridge. “In the meantime, I trust we can begin negotiations of the treaty?”

  Caros noted the chieftain’s expression as the man nodded enthusiastically. A figure loomed at the table and Caros looked up into the face of Castrodubis, surprised at the sudden appearance of the big warrior who looked him up and down with a smirk, clearly having already heard of the bats.

  He turned to his chieftain. “The horses will be ready soon.”

  Gualbes spat something back into his bowl and dropped it carelessly to the ground where a mangy hound immediately set upon it. “Good. Have the stable boys to make sure there are no pig ruts on the track.” He turned to Adicran. “Two good mounts broke their legs last summer because no one filled in the holes left by the blasted pigs. I had a score of the cursed things slaughtered for that.” Spitting, he went on. “We will discuss your general’s request after the races. It is too good a day to waste bickering over trifles like dogs over spilled porridge.” He kicked the unsuspecting hound hard in the ribs, sending it scrabbling with a howl under a bench.

  Caros glanced at Adicran, his eyebrow cocked. “We are as reluctant as you to waste fine weather; however, I must advise that we are under instruction to set out within three days for the north. If we are to conclude a treaty between Carthage and the Aeronosii, it must be before then.”

  There was no such time limit imposed on them, Caros merely wanted to test Gualbes’ reaction. Everything about this Aeronosii chieftain seemed too relaxed and in all his days as a merchant trader for his father, he had never heard it rumoured that the Aeronosii were any more than warriors who occasionally bartered for goods.

  Gualbes glanced at Caros and shrugged. “Very well. Let us conclude the treaty right now.” He looked from Caros to Adicran, face impassive.

  Caros’ blood ran cold. He smelled deceit and trickery as surly as bat shit stank. Beside him, Adicran lowered his bowl slowly to the table, eyes narrowed. Silence fell over the assembled warriors as they sensed the change in mood and their murmurs died on their lips. Without prompting, the women hissed at the children and in a heartbeat hurried them from the warriors, their honour, and their steel.

  The silence pressed down on Caros. His thoughts bounced like sparks as he weighed Gualbes’ words for a heartbeat. He smiled. “Spoken like a true warrior! Did I hear there were to be races? It will be even sweeter placing wagers knowing that the Aeronosii and Carthage have come to an agreement.”

  Castrodubis, still towering over Caros, sneered down his nose at him. “Your wagers will sweeten the pot bat boy.” He swiveled on his heel and walked away.

  In a moment, Caros was on his feet; having endured one insult too many from the Aeronosii warrior. A swarthy arm hooked around his chest and his left arm was twisted violently up behind his back. His anger gave way to surprise while around him warriors laughed and jeered. Adicran wrestled Caros back to his seat with a hissed warning. Caros drew a deep breath and mastered his anger. Adicran’s grip loosen and the Libyan sat down with a grunt. Caros shook his head and looked at Gualbes who was watching him like a snake.

  “Perhaps you’d prefer to discuss the treaty later after all?” Gualbes spoke smoothly.

  Adicran shook his head. “Our general’s wishes are straightforward. He marches north. He has cause to go to war against the Volcae. He requests an alliance of the tribes here, chiefly with the Aeronosii. He is an astute general and has heard of the strength…”

  Gualbes made a swift cutting motion with his hand, his face bleak. Adicran fell silent and the chieftain stared off south for long heartbeats. He grunted and shifted. “I doubt he marches north to make war on the Volcae. They have no more wealth than the Luistani to the west. He has another goal in mind and I’d barter my best horses that it is Massalia.” Adicran made to protest, but Gualbes glared him down. “If this is the case and your general merely wishes to pass through our lands then we can treaty. I warn you though that if this is an attempt to subjugate my people…”

  “It is as you have guessed. Hannibal wishes to take Massalia.” Caros spoke flatly. “He offers an alliance and a share of the spoils of that city.” He had no idea what Hannibal’s intentions were, but he would play along with Gualbes.

  Adicran continued. “The Barcas are generous, overwhelmingly so. It is said half of the wealth of Sagunt was divided among the warriors in Hannibal’s army. That is untrue. He divided all the spoils amongst all the chieftains equally. There is a great opportunity here for the Aeronosii to become very wealthy.”

  Caros spread his palms. “Ally with Hannibal and as a measure of his gratitude, he will gift you a talent of silver.”

  The chieftain’s face remained expressionless. “We have enemies to the west and the north. It would be foolhardy to lead my warriors so far to the east and endanger all we have here.”

  “You are wise of course and know your enemies better than we. We too will not be sending all our warriors east and so will come to the aid of the Aeronosii that remain, your women, children and homes if needed.” Adicran smiled.

  “Two talent of silver. Most would be used to arm those who remain with better weapons and armour.”

  Caros sensed a victory here. Hannibal had authorized six talent of silver to be pledged to the Aeronosii and Andosinni. “You will lead the Aeronosii to fight beside Hannibal for two talent?” He looked to Adicran who gave a quick nod. “Then this is an auspicious day for both armies.”

  Gualbes smiled thinly. For a fleeting moment, Caros thought Gualbes would laugh aloud and demand more. The three men stood, Adicran and then Caros each embraced the chieftain to seal the treaty.

  Adicran was still growling and cursing under his breath at Caros as they returned to their column where it was encamped beyond the palisades of Olot. Caros could not blame the man. Losing his temper at the baiting by Castrodubis had been a foolish thing to allow. It was more in keeping with the nature of an unblooded warrior who had no restraint. Still there were only so many times he could apologise and besides the treaty was sealed and at less than the anticipated cost.

  Aksel, together with Jinkata, rode out to meet them. “Well, I see you were not flayed and roasted. I take it that is a good sign?”

  Caros smiled and let Adicran announce the news of the treaty. Aksel’s smile grew wider as Adicran told of the treaty and his gaze shifted to the Aeronosii who rode behind them.

  “This man knows the whereabouts of tombs fitting for the warrior killed yesterday. Will you go with to see the burial?”

  “Jinkata
will do so. It seems these are an honorable people these Aeronosii.” The young Masulian chieftain eyed the guide.

  Caros said nothing about his unease. It was a wariness lurking in his chest like the fading echo of a warhorn blown by a lost warrior.

  “There are to be races today. I had thought you might wish to take part?” Caros knew the Masulian would rather loose his feet than miss a horse race. His people were born to ride, even more so than Iberians who venerated their mounts. Aksel’s beaming grin confirmed this.

  “I’ve been watching them set up a race course all morning and they’ve had their mounts warming up since first light. They have some fine-looking horses here.”

  Adicran grunted at Aksel’s enthusiasm. While he could ride, he was a foot soldier first and foremost. Libyan warriors were heavily armoured, frontline warriors. Theirs was a world of speeding javelins, shield walls and when necessary, the brutal stabbing of swords. All done on foot. “I’m going to wash and get my armour cleaned.” He turned his mount off to where the pavilion stood beside a stand of trees and when Jinkata also left with the Aeronosii guide Aksel gave Caros a knowing look.

  “Something is troubling you and is that bat shit on your armour?”

  Caros saw little Lanca running beside some children, presumably from Olot. He called the boy who trotted up with wide eyes. “Go fetch me some clean clothes and then get this cleaned up.” He pulled off the soiled armour and clothing and left it for the boy to gather. Aksel dismounted and walked beside Caros, waiting for an answer. “Nothing I can name. Gualbes seemed indifferent to the treaty. He practically took the first offer we made, barely tried to raise it.” Caros plunged his head into a leather bucket filled with cool water hanging beside the pavilion. When he straightened, water ran in rivulets down through the hair on his chest and pooled in the pucker scar made by an arrow in his shoulder.