Transsilvanian

by Hector Miller

  The old crone peered over her shoulder, revealing sightless eyes.

  “Beware the one who begs assistance, trust not the one who makes the peace”, she hissed, then issued a toothless smile that did not fit the moment.

  Her voice changed then, holding an edge of fragility. “The time is not yet upon us, illustrious one. When all hope is lost, Roman, return what was never yours to take.”

  “We have taken nothing, old woman”, Hostilius replied flatly.

  She cackled, as if laughing at a jest. “Oh, but you have, First Centurion.”

  She looked away. “Begone with you now, warriors. Leave before I change my mind”, she sighed, and started humming an eerie tune.

  An inexplicable gust of air stirred the forest floor, causing the fallen leaves to flutter around her.

  “Probably need to go see how they’re getting on with the wall”, Hostilius croaked.

  “Race you there”, I said.

  * * *

  Come evening, we camped in the vicinity of another abandoned fort, referred to as Albota by our guide. Yet again, the garrison had retreated, leaving enough spoils to keep the warriors occupied.

  As was our habit, we all joined Bradakos around the fire. His guards had laid out furs while two sheep and a couple of wild fowl were slowly roasting over a wood fire.

  The Roxolani king produced a large amphora of wine, of excellent quality I might add.

  Gordas emptied his cup and held it out to a servant to refill. “I sent men to hunt boar earlier, reliable warriors. They have disappeared, as if the forest have swallowed them.”

  He turned to Hostilius. “I heard the guide tell you things earlier. Something about an evil that lives within the trees.”

  “Old womans’ tales, my friend”, the Primus Pilus replied.

  Gordas shrugged and took another swallow.

  Chapter 17 – Tarbus

  The Road leading to the Arges River was an up and down affair. We were slowly but surely ascending through the foothills of the Western Carpathian Mountains. Our destination, the pass between Rucar and Bran. This route would give us access to the rich plateau of Transsilvania.

  The Romans had constructed a magnificent wooden bridge across the river. An auxiliary fort, built on the northern bank, guarded the passage across.

  Our scouts reported no Roman activity on our side of the river.

  “They’ve run away, Domitius. Mark my words. I have spoken to the scout. There are places where the river can be crossed on horseback, so it is of no use to try and hold the bridge. The last thing they want is to be surrounded by barbarians.”

  It turned out that Hostilius was correct and we spent the night on the northern bank of the Arges River.

  True to my word, I released the villager guides before we crossed the river. They each carried a bulging purse filled with looted Roman coin as payment for services rendered.

  As I watched the peasants skulk away, I noticed Gordas sitting close by on his horse, eyeing me with an amused expression.

  “Waste of good gold, Eochar.” He followed them with a longing stare. “I can still put arrows through them. At least they will die as rich men.”

  “Forget them. Let us see what Bradakos is up to”, I said and steered Simsek to the bridge.

  Little did we know what was about to happen.

  The first hint was the raised voices discernible above the normal sounds of an army making camp.

  “You are not my king, Roxolani”, I heard someone growl forcefully, accentuating every word.

  “We will settle this the old way, with swords, before the gods”, came the reply of a familiar voice as we rounded the last of the smaller tents surrounding that of the king’s.

  Bradakos and Tarbus were facing each other, two paces separating them. My mentor and his bodyguards all had their hands on the hilts of their swords. The king of the Carpiani and his contingent had adopted the same pose.

  I realised that within moments violence would be unleashed, so I uttered the wisest words that came to mind. “Good evening, my lords.”

  Bradakos and Tarbus both turned their gaze towards me and I continued. “The last of the men have crossed the river, lords. What are your orders?”

  All gaped at me, stunned at my foolish interruption of the standoff between the kings.

  Tarbus realised that he was outnumbered and decided to salvage the situation.

  “I will do as I deem fit, Roxolani. I am not your lapdog to command. This is not finished.” He turned on his heel and marched off in the direction of the Carpiani camp.

  Bradakos remained as he was. He breathed deeply for a while, trying to douse the red-hot rage.

  When he succeeded in calming himself, he turned to me, his anger still not fully under control. “I wanted to fight him, Eochar. Why in the name of the gods did you interfere?”

  “Really”, I said. “My apologies, I didn’t notice”, I added.

  The king scowled.

  Just then Hostilius arrived with a sizeable amphora slung over his shoulder. “Look what I found.”

  He studied the serious faces staring back at him.

  “What’s the matter?” He sighed and placed the amphora on the ground. “Please don’t tell me I’ve missed out on something again.”

  In any event, we managed to calm the king and soon Marcus, Vibius and Cai joined us around the fire. When all was present Bradakos shared the tale.

  “Tarbus came to see me as soon as my tent had been erected. He told me that he was willing to fight at our side, if it proved necessary, to gain access to the pass that leads to Transsilvania.”

  “How nice of him”, Hostilius added, and refilled his cup.

  The king nodded. “I told him that it was expected that we fight side by side, and that he was not doing me a favour. I reminded him of the blood oath.”

  “I invited him to a council of war so that we could make a joint decision on our course of action once we reach the land beyond the forest.”

  The king shook his head. “I don’t know why, but he became angry then. He accused me of causing dissent within his ranks, turning his men against him.”

  Bradakos was nobody’s plaything. As he retold the story, I could see the anger rising, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.

  “He said that he was tired of dancing to the tune of the Roxolani and the Huns. If and when we reach Transsilvania, he would go his own way.”

  “Eochar, was it not for your arrival I would have challenged him to single combat.”

  Cai spoke wise words. “In face of enemy, not fight among self. Reconcile is best. Save anger for later.”

  Bradakos was no fool. He nodded in acknowledgement of Cai’s advice. Then he turned to me and explained what he required.

  I gestured for one of the Roxolani guards to approach, and gave him a verbal message to be delivered to the Carpiani camp.

  When we had eaten our fill of the abundance of wild meat and looted food, I left the fireside and walked off into the night. Hostilius insisted on accompanying me. Gordas had to be restrained, as he had failed to curtail his wine intake and would be more of a liability.

  Sentries greeted us when we reached the Roman bridge across the Arges River. We walked east one hundred paces until we could discern a dark shape waiting on the bank.

  “Greetings, Lord Eochar”, came the whisper from the darkness.

  “I am glad that you came, Thiaper”, I said and clasped his arm. Hostilius followed suit.

  “Word has surely reached you of the altercation between Tarbus and Bradakos?” I asked.

  “It is all that the men are talking about, lord”, was his answer.

  Gossip spreads faster than wildfire within an army.

  I remained silent, as he surely knew the reason for the meeting. Thiaper continued: “It started years ago, lord, when you captured the Carpiani warband and forced the king to provide foederati for the Persian campaign, but recently it has become worse.”

  He looked aroun
d as if to make certain no one was eavesdropping, and lowered his voice another level.

  “Our warriors see how their Roxolani counterparts are treated by king Bradakos. He gifts his warriors a generous share of the loot and treats them with respect. It is not the way of Tarbus. The men are unhappy and Tarbus blames your king. He calls him a peasant who has won the crown. A puppet of the Huns, lord.”

  His words angered me deep down and I had to breathe deeply. My hand went to my sword involuntarily. My actions did not go unnoticed.

  A nervous Thiaper whispered. “I do not share the views of the king, lord, but I will stand by him. He has not given me reason to defy him. My wish is for the Carpiani and Roxolani to fight side by side.”

  I nodded, taking my hand off the hilt. “We desire the same thing, Thiaper.”

  “There is one other thing, lord”, he said. “The king has spoken of his wish to raid the Roman gold mines in the west of Transsilvania. His mind is set. Maybe, if he is allowed to do this, his mood will improve.”

  Hostilius interjected. “The Romans are clever bastards, Thiaper. This is what they will expect. Best is not to go near the gold mines.”

  I placed my hand on Hostillius’s arm, to silence him. “We will talk to king Bradakos, Thiaper.”

  Chapter 18 – Jidova

  We rode north on the morrow, following the Roman road which ascended to the highlands through a broad river valley. The sides of the road were heavily forested with oak and hornbeam, as were the slopes. To minimise the chance of being ambushed, the Romans had cleared the trees eighty paces on both sides, allowing the horde of horsemen to travel thirty abreast with ease.

  I rode at the head of the Roxolani contingent, alongside Bradakos. We trailed behind the Carpiani who formed the vanguard on the day.

  “It is a thoughtful gesture”, I said.

  My friend, the king, turned to me, his face drawn in a confused expression. “What are you talking about?”

  “Allowing the Carpiani to be the vanguard, to ride in the place of honour”, I said.

  Bradakos laughed out loud. “No, Eochar, I suggested that they ride up front because I don’t trust them. I prefer to have Tarbus where I can see him, rather than at my back.”

  I shared the information I obtained from Thiaper then, a scowl forming on the face of the king that increased in severity as I progressed with the story.

  “Puppet of the Huns, eh?” he hissed.

  For a while we rode in silence. The king’s brooding mood somehow spoiling the awe-inspiring beauty of the valley.

  When he had digested my words, he said: “I will give my blessing to Tarbus and his Carpiani to go their own way once we enter Transsilvania, if it is his wish. Even if the Carpiani win much richer loot than us, it is preferable to a full-scale battle between the tribes, which will surely be the case if we remain together.”

  “I agree”, I said.

  I reached into my saddlebag and produced the itinerary I had gained from the study of the Roman officer. “I have studied the Roman documents. I have a few ideas of my own regarding loot.”

  “I’m listening”, he replied, grinning like a wolf.

  * * *

  The army travelled a considerable distance that day, close to thirty miles.

  We camped near another deserted fort along the Roman limes, called Jidova.

  Bradakos was still brooding and Gordas had to settle some or other dispute among his commanders. It allowed me the time to spend a relaxed evening with my Roman friends and Cai.

  The deserted Roman forts and the absence of any Roman resistance worried me. I shared these concerns with my comrades.

  “Rome may be many things. Stupid not one of them”, Cai said.

  Marcus nodded. “Romans are clever and resourceful.” He grinned. “Like us.”

  He took another swallow from the looted red and continued. “They will try and stop us before we get to the mountain pass. Of that I am certain.”

  “If it were me, I would set up an ambush.” Hostilius stuffed another handful of olives into his mouth. While chewing he continued: “And, I would use artillery. Probably scorpion bolt throwers ‘cause they are easy to deploy.”

  “These barbarians are good fighters”, added Vibius, “but they have been lulled into a false sense of security. They think that Rome fears them. We know better. We know what the legions are capable of.”

  “Best is to put on boots of enemy. Become enemy. Think like enemy. Then find way to beat them”, Cai added.

  We dined on looted olives and cheese, dried salted meat and a smooth red.

  Although we retired early, I had trouble falling asleep. Cai’s words milled around inside my head. I became a Roman again in my mind, and worked out what they would do.

  Something else was weighing down on me. Revenge. Or rather the lack thereof.

  After the murder of my father and the destruction of my home, I had imagined that Arash would allow me the opportunity to exact revenge on Philip the Arab and his brother Priscus. Yet, I have been led further away from Rome. I realised that Nik’s only wish would be for me to be happy, but still, I longed to get even.

  I prayed to Arash to allow me to fulfil my destiny, whatever it may be. I told him then that I would accept his decision, even if it meant that I would never again enter the lands of Rome.

  In hindsight, I think Arash was waiting for me to place my revenge of Priscus and the Arab in his hands. Revenge exacted by a man can be a terrible thing, but in the hands of a god it is worse.

  Chapter 19 – Rucar

  When Vibius kicked my foot, it was still dark inside the tent. And I was dead tired, feeling as if I had slept less than a watch.

  “The scouts found the Romans at Rucar, eh?” I said and wiped the sleep from my eyes.

  Vibius stared at me for a couple of heartbeats with his mouth agape. “Arash told me”, I answered and shrugged.

  “The kings have requested our council”, he said as he assisted me to don my Scythian scale armour. I strapped on my weapons and exited the tent, where a warrior was waiting for me, holding a saddled Simsek by the reins. Nobility has its advantages.

  My friends and I rode to the tent of Bradakos. Gordas was waiting outside, clearly excited about the prospect of battle.

  “I have never fought the Romans, Eochar. Before the end of the day, Roman scalps will decorate my saddle.” He pointed to the gladius strapped to my side. “I will make sure I kill an officer. They carry the best weapons and I want a long dagger like you have.”

  “It’s not a dagger, Gordas. It’s a short sword. The Romans call it a gladius.”

  He eyed me skeptically. “Whatever you say, Eochar.”

  Just then, the flap opened and guards ushered us into the tent of the king. Servants handed us each a cup of hot salted mare’s milk as we entered.

  To my surprise, Tarbus was already inside, wearing a smug expression.

  Bradakos enlightened us. “Yesterday evening, after you departed, our advance scouts returned. They found the Romans fifteen miles north of here. They are hiding behind an earthen rampart fortified by a ditch. The scouts estimate that the Romans number only three thousand.”

  Tarbus announced the decision of the kings. “The brave warriors of the Carpiani will chase the Romans from their hiding place. As payment, our warriors will claim the loot.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder how much of the loot would end up in the saddlebags of Tarbus.

  The Carpiani king clasped arms with Bradakos and departed, his smug expression intact.

  After Tarbus left, Bradakos exhaled slowly, as if he had been holding his breath for ever.

  I recognized the familiar scent of cannabis smoke.

  My mentor answered my enquiring stare. “I had the shaman prepare me a smoke tent earlier”, he said. “It helped.”

  Bradakos’s drugged state explained his puzzling calm demeanour in the presence of the Carpiani king.

  Hostilius motioned with his head towards the opening of
the tent through which Tarbus had just departed. “He is underestimating the Romans, which is never good for one’s health.”

  The Roxolani king gave a small nod. “I granted his every request for the sake of unity. Let us hope that he does not find death in the same place where he is seeking glory and loot.”

  Cai sniffed the air. “Smoke of ‘ma’ plant help foretell future. Also turn man into poet.”

  The king scowled.

  He motioned for us to sit down on the soft furs spread out on the ground.

  “There are none better qualified than you to advise me on how to proceed.”

  I emptied my cup, savouring the taste of the warm milk. “We would speak with the scouts, Bradakos.”

  Before long, two Roxolani scouts were seated opposite us in the spacious tent of the king.

  As was expected, they addressed the man of highest rank in the room. “Lord king, we followed the stone road north, keeping the river, eh… stream, on our right. When we reached the foothills of the mountains we turned east, past the quarry, as Lord Eochar told us to do.”

  I traced their movements using the Roman itinerary.

  Looking up from the scroll, I nodded in acceptance of their words.

  The scouts stared at me with confused expressions. Gordas stepped in, enlightening them.

  “Lord Eochar has captured the magic scroll from the Romans. The markings tell him whether your words are accurate.”

  The scouts suddenly appeared decidedly nervous. “Everyone knows that the god speaks to you, lord, but we did not realise that you also practise the sacred art of divination.”

  They inclined their heads in respect. I scowled at Gordas who wore a smug look on his scarred face.

  “When we reached the stream the locals call the Dambovita River, we turned north, up the valley. We followed the Roman road and passed four of the Roman road stones, so we travelled four miles, lord.”

  They looked at me with childlike expressions, expecting me to divine the accuracy of their words.

  I realised that to play along would be the least problematic. “Your words carry no deceit”, I said.