Nemesis

by C. R. May

  Ferox nodded and hauled the head of his mount back towards the south. Within moments the two Gauls had crested a rise and galloped from view.

  Caturix unstopped the canteen at his side and sank a welcome draught. ‘Come on then,’ he said as the others took advantage of the stop to slake their thirst. ‘Let’s follow on at a gentle pace until we are sure what we are riding into.’

  The Crow filed in his wake as the chieftain walked the horse forward. Caturix looked back at the smoke and pursed his lips. The column was growing denser by the moment and several more were beginning to haze the skyline. It could only mean that the tail end of the Senone column had met with trouble, and his mind began to sift through the options likely to be open to him if his fears were confirmed.

  Before he could assemble his thoughts the sound of hoofbeats carried from the north. A quick look up confirmed that it was Doros and Searix returning, and Caturix was pleased to see that the men surrounding him had begun to check their weapons as they recognised their clansmen’s sense of urgency. The pair slew to a halt in a cloud of dust, and Doros was addressing his leader before he had drawn breath. ‘A strong force has cut the Via Cassia.’ The Crow champion hawked and spat the dust from his mouth before continuing. ‘I totted them up: ten squares of spearmen, six squares deep, have taken up position in the narrows just north of the old battleground, so that’s almost six thousand in the phalanx plus several thousand skirmishers at the rear.’

  Caturix nodded. ‘How many of our boys?’

  ‘About the same, maybe a bit less.’ Despite the urgency of the moment, Doros shot his chieftain a smile. ‘Our lads don’t form up in regular blocks, which makes it a bit harder to estimate numbers, but they have formed a battle line and it looks as if the druids are there too.’

  ‘So why the smoke?’

  Doros grimaced. ‘I was coming to that. There are a few equites attempting to cut out the carts and wagons carrying the last of the plunder. It looks as if our boys have given up trying to defend them and are firing them one by one to cover their backs when they attack the main battle line.’

  Caturix worried his moustache as he thought. The enemy force was likely to be the remnants of the Roman left wing that had escaped across the river at the end of the great battle that summer. Holed up in the old city they now knew to be called Veii, the men had been a thorn in their side the whole summer long. Expertly led, they had harried the swathe of countryside to the north of the city, dramatically reducing the supplies that could be foraged to feed the besiegers. There had been regular contact between them and the garrison left on the hilltop in Rome, and the Gaulish leaders knew that the fillip that this had given to the invested men and women had aided greatly in their determination to hold out. If these men had now taken it upon themselves to emerge from their fortress and offer battle it was a worrying sign. Caturix knew that it was unlikely that they were acting on their initiative; every aggressive move they had made that year pointed to them at least utilising intelligence from the south, if not coming under direct external control.

  His thoughts caused him to glance that way. One of the men had taken it upon himself to walk his mount to the lip of the rise, and Caturix’s stomach sank as he cupped a hand to his mouth and called a warning. ‘Ferox and Epacos are returning already, Caturix, and they are not sparing the horses.’

  He shared a look with Doros and the clan champion pulled a wry smile. ‘Even bad news is better than no news. At least we will know where we stand.’

  A short time later the pair were cresting the rise, cantering down to halt before them. As a member of the clan Ferox was the one to address his chieftain. ‘There is an army coming up behind us Caturix, but it is not the one from the south.’ He indicated his companion with a flick of his head. ‘Epacos knew a high point that gave us an overview of the surrounding area. This new army is coming across the hills from the west.’

  Caturix switched his gaze to the newcomer. ‘Caere?’

  Epacos nodded. ‘That would be my guess. They did offer sanctuary to the population of Rome; we understand that there is a longstanding alliance between the two cities.’

  Caturix looked at his meagre force and laughed. The men shared looks of confusion and their chieftain explained. ‘I was just wondering which force to attack first!’

  They all joined in the grim laughter as the reality of the situation became plain. Searix added to the mirth. ‘Ten men could ride south and the other ten northwards Caturix. We could have them surrounded before they even knew we were there!’

  With the laughter trailing away Caturix reached his decision. ‘We few will have no bearing on the result of any battle, and Catumanda could not have made the importance of the thing which we carry any plainer. Our men are already in contact with the enemy, and they must realise that the plan is to hold them there until another force comes to finish them off.’ He threw them all a grim smile. ‘We shall have to miss the fun when they batter their way through. Doros said that there were only about five thousand of our men there, so the majority are already away. If we add those numbers to the men who sailed south with Brennus, Senone strength can withstand any losses to the rearguard. Besides, we have other men and allies on the far side of the Apeninnus, and Solemis and the Horsetails are already halfway home.’

  He turned back to Ferox. ‘How long until they are past the bridge at Fidenae?’

  Ferox caught the meaning straight away. ‘We have plenty of time to get across if we ride now.’

  Caturix nodded as he hauled the head of his mount around the east. ‘Let’s get going then.’

  The Crow streamed in his wake as Caturix led the column away from the track down towards the plain. It was only a few miles to the stone bridge spanning the River Tiberis at the ruined city of Fidenae, and Caturix reflected on the growing power of Rome as they snaked down a rubble-strewn gully and broke out of the shadows. The contrast between the Etruscan cities of Caere, Veii and Fidenae could not have been greater. The rulers of Caere had chosen to ally themselves with the nascent power that was Rome, and although they had lost a great deal of what made them an independent state the rewards had been wealth, influence and power. Veii and Fidenae had trodden the path of opposition, and the ruined walls, piles of sun-bleached bones and enslaved populations stood as stark warnings to others. He wondered idly whether the leaders would have chosen differently had they known what the future held in store for them, and an involuntary shiver coursed through him as he thought on his people. The Senones had won the greatest victory in their history, but he was sure that the final tally had yet to be reckoned.

  Free of the hills the small column turned the heads of their mounts to the north and galloped on. A wooded spur interrupted their passage, and Caturix was about to double the bend when Doros edged across and gripped his sleeve. The chieftain glanced across in surprise, and his clansman indicated that they rein in with a movement of his hand. As the group came to a halt, the clan champion explained his caution. ‘Can you see any sign of the enemy?’

  Caturix raised himself in the saddle and peered across to the east. Despite the lateness of the season the meadow baked in the late afternoon sun and the heat hazed the view. ‘Not in this, no,’ he replied. ‘It’s difficult to see clearly beyond the river, but I think that I could still make out an army if it was there!’

  Doros raised a brow, and Caturix nodded that he understood and made to lay his concerns. ‘Ferox and Epacos said that the Caerentans were still crossing the hills. They cannot be past this point already.’

  Doros shook his head. ‘Not the army of Caere. There is nothing to stop the Romans at Veii from putting a force across the Tiberis to pin our boys in place until they come up to finish the job. The bridge is not far beyond that outlier ahead,’ he said with a jerk of his chin. ‘I remember it from a time we were foraging in these parts when you were away with Solemis.’

  Caturix patted the lead cylinder at his side as he pondered his clansman’s words. He was right to be
cautious, doubly so now that they had been entrusted by the druid with her mysterious treasure. ‘We will walk the horses up there and have a look.’ He flashed Doros a smile. ‘A champion with brawn and brains. If you didn’t look like the rear end of a horse,’ he quipped, ‘you could be the perfect man!’

  The group sniggered as they began to walk their mounts forward. Despite the tensions of the situation they had found themselves in they all knew that the gods had smiled on the Crow the day that Caturix had succeeded his father. Crixos had been a mighty chieftain who had led his clan with honour and vigour before dying gloriously in battle, but the very qualities that had showered that glory on his clansmen had also made him aloof and unapproachable. Caturix combined the steeliness of his father with the openhandedness of his mother – it was a powerful blend, and they were glad of it.

  Soon they were at the tree line and Caturix and Doros dismounted, handing the reins to their clansmen as they pushed their way through the trees. The outlier was narrow, not much more than a thicket, and within moments the pair were looking across towards the bridge and the ruins of Fidenae beyond from the shelter of the woods. They exchanged a look, and Caturix gave his man a nod of appreciation.

  ‘Let’s get back.’

  * * *

  ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘we will have to close with the column as quickly as we can. Once we are clear of the trees we will be in full view, so heads down and ride. Watch me: the moment that my javelin lands among them, concentrate your own on the same spot. Follow me through the breach and, Camulos willing, we should all get through.’ He flashed them a smile of encouragement and a wink, drawing lupine smiles from them. ‘The war god has been with us all summer – there is no reason to believe that he will abandon us now. If he does,’ he shrugged, ‘who wants to live forever?’

  Caturix wheeled his war horse and put back his heels. Doros guided his horse a pace behind as the others slid into their wake. He had led the clan back in a loop a hundred yards from the place where the edge of the wood met the water meadow, and the horses were at full speed as they broke out into clear space. A quick look up told the chieftain that all was as before, and he cried encouragement to his mount as he aimed at the centre of the column ahead. The leading members of the Roman force were across the bridge now, but the space between the rest and the edge of the woodland was filled with spearmen. There was still no chance to outflank the enemy, and Caturix reached back to loosen the bindings that held his javelins in place on the crupper.

  Faces were turning their way as the horses thundered on, but they were almost within throwing range now and he snatched up a spear, shifting his hand along the shaft as he sought the point of balance. A heartbeat later his arm was up and back, and the gaesum arced through the air to plummet down at the centre of the line. Caturix drew his sword, the Romans melting away before him as the spears of his clansmen fell among them in a tight pattern. A flash of colour, and he brought the blade slicing down to bite into the shoulder of a man who was braver, or slower, than his friends. As the sword came back Caturix realised that he was through and staring at the empty riverside. He threw back his heels and galloped on as the cries of alarm receded, finally slowing to allow his men to come up a half mile from the crossing. Wheeling his mount, Caturix made a quick headcount and allowed himself a smile of triumph. They appeared to have come through unscathed.

  Doros laughed at his side and Caturix clapped his old friend on the shoulder as the others grinned and jostled one another at the completeness of their escape. ‘That was easy! Shall we do it again?’ He quickly looked round and a shouted if anyone was injured, and they were off again as the men assured him that there were none.

  The miles disappeared beneath their hooves as they galloped north and soon they were opposite the site of the earlier battle that summer. They had all watched in frustration as the Romans had forded the Tiberis at this spot and knew it to be a good place to cross. A last look confirmed that the far bank was clear of men and Caturix led them down the slope, raising his precious cargo into the air as the horse splashed into the shallows. The waters were slow flowing and in no time they had made it across; hauling itself up the far bank, the chieftain’s horse whinnied happily as it shook the cooling waters from its back and waited for the others to join them.

  The burning wagons were close now, great banks of black-grey smoke drifting to obscure the view, and Caturix indicated the hill on the far side of the flood plain with a nod. ‘Let’s climb our old friend over there and see what we can see.’

  The Crow picked their way across the old battlefield as the sound of fighting carried down to them on the gentle winds, and soon they had scaled the flank of the hillock and gathered on the crown. It had been the place where they had led the charge at the start of the battle, the place where they had witnessed Brennus and the naked champions smash the army of Rome and send them fleeing back to the city in chaotic disorder, and the Crow drank in the view as they waited for their chieftain to lead them back into the fray. The plain below them was still strewn with remains from the earlier conflict, the odd bones, legs, arms and ribcages now yellowing under the sun where birds and animals had picked them clean of skin and flesh. At the base of the hill a cairn of skulls constructed by the druids surveyed the place of slaughter from vacant eye sockets.

  Doros came across as the gust moved the blanket of smoke aside to reveal the last of the Senones to leave Etruria fighting to escape the trap only a mile or so distant. He grabbed at his chieftain’s sleeve. ‘They have weakened the right wing to bolster the centre again Caturix.’ He laughed gleefully. ‘It seems that they have still not learnt the lesson of the bones before us. Even a force as small as ours could shatter the Romans and force a way through.’ He looked across, and Caturix could see the excitement written there. ‘We could turn the flank again and win the day, just as we did here with Solemis and his Horsetails.’

  The Crow chieftain was about to order the charge when a voice came into his mind. It was the sound of a voice that would brook no argument, and he smiled to himself as he listened to the words again.

  Caturix: see that this is given directly to the senior druid among the Senones, by you personally… trust no other.

  He snorted as he turned the head of his mount aside. Epacos had already left them at the riverside, galloping back to his clansmen and carrying the news of the army hastening to close the trap to the clan leaders there. They would know what needed to be done – they too were Senones, after all.

  ‘Come,’ he said, patting the leaden cask at his side as the Crow moved to follow. ‘We have glory enough. I made a promise to a friend of a friend that I mean to keep.’

  Twenty-Three

  Rome heaved as its grateful citizens acclaimed their saviour and vented their fury at the captives. Numerius gritted his teeth and gave the rope another sharp tug out of anger and spite. Despite all his efforts for the city it was his old enemy Camillus who had been reappointed dictator and accorded a triumph. Some were even beginning to call him the new Romulus, the second founder of Rome! He tugged on the rope once again and Solemis’ head and shoulders shot backwards.

  Nemesis! The injustice of it all! Have we not paid our debt?

  At the head of the procession the dictator, the red stain on his face appearing even starker than usual beneath the shock of white hair, waved happily to the crowd from the platform of his chariot as his escort struggled to shield him from their wild celebrations. Quintus leaned across as the crowd surged forward again. ‘Let us hope that our dictator remembers who he could rely upon during the darkest days. At least we are in full view of the crowd, unlike that fool Sulpicius!’

  Numerius finally found a reason to smile. If Camillus had been incensed when he discovered that the tribune had paid a ransom to Brennus for the return of the city, he had been positively apoplectic when he discovered that, despite the discovery that the weights had been false, they had agreed to bring down even more gold from the capitol. In a final indignit
y the barbarian had laughed and thrown his great sword onto the scales, crying out ‘Vae Victis!’ Unbelievably the fool had actually sent for more! Even coming on top of all their humiliations that summer it had been deeply shameful and Numerius at least took some comfort in the fall of his rival.

  The procession wound its way down the Sacred Way, past the Temple of the Vestals and the Domus Publica and crossed the expanse of the forum. Numerius watched the two barbarians, Solemis and his big friend Albiomaros, closely as they passed the home of the pontifex, but neither man glanced that way. He was certain in his mind that they had been present at the murder of his father but neither man had spoken a word to him since their capture despite the attentions of some of Rome’s more persuasive citizens.

  Camillus drew up at the base of the Capitoline, and after a last wave to the adoring crowd alighted and began to ascend to the Temple of Jupiter.

  * * *

  Solemis exchanged a look with Albiomaros with his remaining eye, and despite the pain from his broken body he smiled inwardly as he saw the indomitable spirit that still burned within the big man. Grimy and lice-ridden as they both were they were determined to board the boat the Isles of the Dead with as much dignity and defiance as they could muster.

  As they followed the procession past the temples and homes of Rome’s wealthiest citizens the fury of the general populace was replaced by an icy hatred from their betters who lined the roadway. Breaking out into the sunshine at the summit they found themselves before the great temple itself, and Albiomaros turned his way and spoke clearly, despite the certainty of the beating that would follow. ‘We made it, genos. It took us a while, but at least we beat Sedullos to the summit!’