by C. R. May
Brennus, war chieftain of the Senones, stepped forward into the shallows as an expectant hush fell upon the gathering. ‘Water spirits, accept my sacrifice to you. Hallow their union with health and happiness, warlike sons and strong daughters, and see that their roots burrow ever deeper in this land.’ Reaching inside his purse, he scooped out a handful of gold coins and let them tumble into the bowl of the helmet. Most of the men had been to see the helm of Porsenna, perched atop the grisly head of the old zilach of Clevsin after the battle the previous summer. Every man present that day was aware of the honour that the chieftain was showing to the young couple, and the women cooed with pleasure as Brennus lowered the magnificent object beneath the surface and stepped away.
As the warriors and celebrants from allied clans moved forward to lower sword and spear blades taken from their Etruscan foe into the chill waters, the people on the bank tossed silver coins and shards into the watercourse to straddle the couple like rain. As the last of them fell, Solemis glanced across at his new gwraig, the woman who would bear his children. ‘That’s enough for me; if I stand in this freezing water much longer I won’t be able to complete the most important ritual!’
Aia giggled as they moved back to the bank, and Brennus stood aside as they walked between lines of chanting warriors back towards the settlement. The smell of wood smoke and roasting flesh drew them on and, as the excited chatter of their guests rose in their wake, Solemis and his gwraig crested the rise and moved towards the smiling figure of Caturix. Aia’s brother had become the chieftain of her clan on the death of their father Crixos at the battle outside Clevsin, and Solemis’ good friend smiled as he held out the twin handled cup for them. Taking a handle each they drank together from the vessel in an action that symbolised the moment when Aia passed from Crow clan to Horsetails. As the cup was emptied and dashed to the ground, Caturix pushed open the door to the roundhouse and a great cheer rent the air as Solemis swept Aia up and carried her inside.
* * *
‘When do we ride?’
Brennus shot Solemis a wink as his reply caused a ripple of laughter to run around the group. ‘As soon as you regain your strength.’
The sun was westering, washing the sky with the colour of blood. The group of men clustered around the fire knew it to be a sign from the gods, and they hoped that it was Roman blood that they could see there and not their own. They had spent the winter cooped up in their settlements as the snows fell and the winds blew. Throughout the darkest months all but the most urgent journeys had been curtailed, as the clans huddled about their hearths and listened with pride as the warriors told of the parts they had played in the previous year’s fighting. With the coming of spring thoughts had turned to the upcoming campaign against the new enemy in Rome, and messengers had crisscrossed the gentle hills of Umbria as the clans gathered their strength and prepared for war.
The uncertainties of the coming year had caused Solemis to bring forward his wedding plans as it became apparent that the new enemy in Rome would prove to be a much harder foe to defeat than the Etruscans the previous year. He had seen the fortifications and knew them to be formidable. Perhaps more than most of the Celtic leaders there, Solemis realised that the confidence bordering on arrogance of the men that they had met so far was not entirely misplaced. Their stores and pens groaning with Etruscan grain and cattle, they had been in a good position to hold such a great feast, and Brennus had wisely chosen the day to assemble the leaders of the clans to plan the forthcoming campaign. He tore a mouthful from the hunk of beef in his hand and wiped the grease from his chin as he spoke again. ‘The only decision we need to make is if we are to split our force before we approach the city. The Umbrians tell me that there is a pass with a good road further south that leads directly to Rome. It will give the Romans a headache and ease our supply problems, but it will also divide our force in unknown territory.’ He ran his eyes around the group as he paused and waited to hear their advice. Sedullos was the first to speak, and the eyes of the chieftains lit up with pride as he came straight to the heart of the matter. ‘We can put twenty-thousand warriors into the field, men who tore the heart out of a southern army only a few months ago. How many men can the Romans field?’
Brennus grinned. ‘Everyone agrees – Etruscan prisoners, Umbrians and their neighbours the Piceni – that the core of the Roman army numbers six thousand. They can field more if they consider it an emergency, and they have a treaty of mutual aid with the surrounding cities, but I have thought of a plan to keep them occupied as we approach. From what Solemis saw when he led our delegation to the city last year, they seem to think that we are some kind of curiosity sent for their amusement, like dancing bears or fighting dogs.’ He grinned wolfishly as they all chuckled at his conclusion. ‘They are about to discover that these dogs have a nasty bite!’
Caturix cut through the laughter. ‘Are the Umbrians offering to supply the army that moves through their land?’
Brennus nodded as he picked at a strand of meat lodged in his teeth. ‘The Umbrians and Romans have a bit of a strange relationship. They seem to fight most years but never let that interrupt the trade that passes between them. The road they have offered to lead us to they call the Via Salaria, after the salt trade that takes place there.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not as well-made as the road that led us to Clevsin last year but it is perfectly passable, especially by mounted warriors.’ He flicked a look up at Solemis. ‘I was thinking to send Solemis’ Horsetails across with a strong force of mounted men while I lead the main army back across the Via Cassia that we used previously. It’s more direct and the quality of the road will enable us to resupply the army easily from home if we need to.’ He glanced about as he waited for their response. Solemis made to speak but Sedullos cut in again. ‘What would Solemis be doing with all of our mounted men? Is it wise to strip the army of its eyes and ears?’
Brennus shook his head in reply. ‘I am only thinking of a force of,’ he pulled a face and looked across to Solemis, ‘five hundred or so?’
Solemis nodded that he agreed with the size of the detachment. After the actions the previous summer all the war leaders had recognised that the Horsetails and their chieftain had become the premier mounted warriors among the clans, the best of the best. ‘Five hundred is a good number. It is large enough to be considered a mounted army, but not so large that it would be too difficult to move quickly and live off the land.’ He grinned. ‘I can do a lot of damage with such a force.’
Brennus met his gaze and nodded in agreement before continuing to outline his plan. ‘It was a good question Sedullos, and you would be right to be concerned should all the mounted warriors leave us, but most will remain with the main army. All I want is a fast-moving column to cause as much havoc in the region of the city as possible as we approach. All our information indicates that the Romans do not possess large numbers of mounted warriors. They rely on the phalanx to crush their enemies like other people here in the south, so a mounted force causing mayhem in their rear should be able to draw them away from the city.’ His eyes sparkled as he threw them a cold-hearted smile. ‘Rather than stripping the army of its outriders, we shall be denying the Romans the use of their own. They will blunder forward until we can take them at a place of our choosing.’ He took a swig of cervesia and swept the cup in a circle. ‘The phalanx formations that they use in the south are ridiculous.’ He paused as he made a fist and pushed it into his stomach. Belching softly, he continued. ‘Thousands of men, pressed together in great squares – trundling across the field with all the manoeuvrability of an ox-pulled plough. Only the front ranks get to fight, and they need to agree a suitable field that is large enough and level enough for the battle beforehand, or they can’t fight at all.’ He leaned forward and held them with a stare. ‘I am told that these Romans are the most dangerous of the races that live here in the south. Beat them, and beat them well, and we can live here in peace forever.’
The group nodded their agreement as Sole
mis asked a final question. ‘When do you want me to leave?’
Brennus threw him a mischievous smile. ‘I take it that everything went according to plan in the roundhouse earlier?’
The group laughed at his discomfort, and Caturix made a ribald suggestion as Solemis nodded with a self-conscious scowl.
The chieftain of the tribe grinned. ‘In that case, why are you still here?’
Their laughter was interrupted as the first signs of a disturbance near the entrance to the settlement carried across to the group. Instinctively their hands moved to their sword hilts as they craned their necks to see above the packed revellers. Armed warriors were hurrying across to reinforce the men on duty there, and Solemis called out as Albiomaros came by. ‘Genos: what is happening?’
The big man, the new champion of the clan, held up a hand to indicate that there was nothing to fear. ‘It is Anastasios and his sons.’ He shot them a smile as he passed. ‘I will go and save them from a lynching!’
Solemis turned back to explain. ‘They are Umbrians who live in the next valley – good people. I have been befriending them over the course of the winter.’
Brennus nodded that he approved. It was still natural for the Senone people to see any southerners as their enemies, but that would need to change if they were ever to become accepted in these lands. ‘You had better get down there Solemis. We can speak later. Having your neighbours lynched at the wedding feast is perhaps not the best custom to introduce down here!’
Solemis flashed a grin and followed on in Albiomaros’ wake. Ahead, he could see that his friend had placated the armed warriors who had rushed there and was embracing Brizio, Anastasios’ eldest son. With practically the entire leadership of the Senone people congregated in one small valley it was natural that many of the warriors were a little on edge. War was looming, and an overwhelming attack here could see the tribe decapitated at a single blow. As the crowd relaxed once again and edged away, Solemis walked up to the group and smiled in greeting. ‘Anastasios, you are welcome here.’ They gripped forearms in greeting as Solemis acknowledged the man’s sons with a nod. ‘Brizio, Rodolfo, welcome to my home.’
The Umbrian was holding the reins of a handsome horse, which flared its nostrils and tossed its head as if it was fully aware that it was the centre of attention. Anastasios smiled again and presented the reins to the delighted Senone. ‘Solemis, I would be honoured if you would accept my wedding gift to you.’
Solemis grinned with delight as he took the proffered reins, moving forward to run his hand along the animal’s head and neck. As black as jet, the horse shone with a deep lustre that seemed to lend a silky liquidity to its movements. ‘Anastasios, it is I who is being shown honour here as you know full well. He is beautiful. You have my thanks; it is a noble gift worthy of you and your family.’
The Umbrian beamed. ‘He is no ordinary horse, my friend. This horse has been specially trained for war by my son, Rodolfo, the greatest horseman in all of Umbria.’
Solemis was still admiring the sheen on the flanks of the animal but looked across to the young Umbrian and smiled. ‘You have my thanks also, Rodolfo. Has he a name?’
Rodolfo smiled brightly at the compliment. He was sure now that the gift would have the desired effect on the Celt, and he began to steer the conversation in the direction that he had intended if the opportunity arose. ‘I named him Tantibus, what you call a nightmare I believe, when he was a foal.’ He chuckled and moved across to caress the horse’s ears as he spoke. The mutual affection between man and animal was obvious. ‘He was a nightmare to handle at first and I thought that I had finally met my match, but I persevered and one day I realised what the problem was.’ He laughed as he took a handful of grain from a sack and let the animal munch contentedly from his hand. Rodolfo flicked a look back at Solemis as he continued his tale. ‘Big, bad, Tantibus – the terror of the corral. The horse that they said was untrainable and vicious. That same Tantibus was afraid of his shadow!’ He laughed again as the horse nuzzled into him. ‘Sometimes it happens when a stallion is the natural leader of a herd,’ he explained. ‘He sees the shadow as a rival and will never turn his back on it.’ Rodolfo shrugged. ‘Sometimes he is still wary of it, but not so much now. Now he is fully grown he is not so concerned; he knows that no other horse is his equal.’
Solemis reached inside the feed sack, offering up a handful of oats as he repeated the name to make sure that he had it correctly. ‘Tantibus?’
Rodolfo nodded. ‘It would be no problem if you wanted to change his name. He is very intelligent, he would pick it up in no time.’
Solemis snorted and shook his head as he ran his hand across the downy muzzle of the horse. ‘No, Tantibus is a fine name. We shall keep it, eh boy?’ He glanced back at Anastasios as Albiomaros’ laughter boomed out across the valley. Berikos had come down to see the horse and the pair of them were already sharing a joke at someone’s expense. ‘You said that Tantibus is a war horse. In what way?’
Anastasios’ eyes widened in surprise. ‘He has been specifically trained for war. He will bite and kick the enemy at your command, as well as many other things. I know that you are fine horsemen, I assumed that you would have similar horses in your army.’
Solemis shook his head in wonder as he struggled to control his excitement. His horse obeyed his commands, but that was all. Already they had bested the southern horsemen at every turn; such horses could make his clan invincible. He turned back to Rodolfo. ‘How long will it take you to supply me with a dozen such horses?’ Before the Umbrian could answer, Solemis added. ‘And I would need you to train the riders. Silver is no object, but I will need it done as soon as possible.’
Smiles spread across the faces of the Umbrians, and it was obvious to Solemis that they had known all along that the Celts did not possess such mounts. He had reacted as they had expected him to, and he knew that the price required for the horses would not be in precious metal. He grinned as his neighbours shared a look of satisfaction; it seemed that the young Umbrians also had a taste for war. Rodolfo sucked in air as if deep in thought. ‘Twelve fully trained war horses.’ He shook his head and pulled a face. ‘I could not supply so many my friend before, what,’ he paused and shared a look with his kinsmen before turning back with a wicked smile – ‘noon tomorrow? I have to celebrate a neighbour’s wedding tonight, and I may not make it home until morning!’
They shared a laugh as Solemis indicated that they follow him with a flick of his head. ‘Come and share my food and drink. I will introduce you to Brennus and the other clan chieftains – if we are to ride to war together, it is the very least I can do.’
Four
The brothers exchanged a worried look. The land was now little more than a green and ochre smear to the east, and very soon it would dip below the horizon completely. They knew that Tereno would be testing the providence of Manannan if they ventured any further. The older man laid a kindly hand on the boy’s shoulder, and he turned to watch the movement of his father’s lips as he spoke. ‘Terkinos, shin up the mast and take a look around. Sing out if the coastline grows any fainter.’ Tereno’s face broke into a smile and he threw the boy a wink. ‘What? You thought I missed that look?’
Terkinos flashed his father a smile and shimmied up the Dolfinn’s stubby mast. The wide sail was flapping like a mad thing in the fitful wind, but once clear of the greasy woollen sheet the air was as clear as spring water and he felt that he could see to the ends of the earth. The last wolf-grey clouds, torn and shredded by the great storm that had battered the coast for most of the previous week, were hurrying away to the south-west, and Terkinos gulped down a lungful of the salty air with a sigh. Despite the dangers he had imbibed his love of the wild seas off Iberia with his mother’s milk; it was in his blood now, a very part of his being. Curling his legs around the post he gripped the masthead and squinted ahead. Turning his face back to the deck he called out in his distinctive burr. ‘It looks like they are slowing down again, and one
of them is waving to us to hurry along with his flipper!’
A deep rumble of laughter came from Tereno as he shielded his eyes from the glare and stared upwards. ‘Yes, son, sea wolves are very helpful like that. They always show me where to fish.’ He exchanged a grin with Terkantu as his eldest wrestled with the steering oar. ‘At least, they do when the faeries are too busy!’
His youngest son was ever the joker and popular with all in the settlement despite his deafness. It had been almost five winters since the accident now and they had come to accept that his hearing would never return. It had been on one of the boy’s first trips that the accident had occurred. A sea monster had been caught in the net and young Terkinos had been swept over the side as the grab lines ensnared his legs. Dragged down to the depths his horrified father and brother had given him up for lost when Manannan, the sea god, had come to his rescue. Terkinos had popped to the surface, badly cut from the nets that had carried him below and bleeding from both ears, and although the lacerations had healed in time to leave his body a crazy web of scars the damage to his hearing had been total and permanent.
Tereno looked at the sun and pursed his lips. It was midmorning now and the days were already growing noticeably shorter. He would have to turn back very soon, whether there was a rich shoal of sardinas ahead or not. The mighty storms that swept in to lash the coastal settlements at this time of year rarely came alone. They could expect another at any time, and he wrestled with his conscience. He was placing his family in danger, but it really did seem as if the sea wolves were leading them on.
They had been just off the coast when they had picked up the trail, the screaming tumult of gulls marking the position of a rich shoal to any fisherman with a practised eye. It had been Terkinos who had first spotted the pack of wolves herding the shoal before them, and they had held off to wait until the great sea hunters had eaten their fill and moved away. Caught up in the chase they had not noticed how far they had sailed until it had almost been too late, and Tereno spat over the side in disgust as he came to what he knew to be the only sensible decision. The wind was picking up again and spindrift was beginning to curl from the crests of the rollers. He cursed and banged his fist on the mast to gain his son’s attention. The young man looked down and Terkinos mouthed his decision. ‘Terkinos: come down, we need to turn back. Even a deck full of sardines are not worth our lives.’
