“Our horses were a generous trade for his boat and I haven’t got anything with which to compensate him,” Fergus growled, as he rose to his feet and rubbed his chin with a painful expression. “And I am not responsible for that fucking storm either. But if he tries to hit me again I am going to hit him back.”
***
The campfire crackled and roared and around its embrace, warming and drying themselves, sat the crew. It was late in the afternoon and out on the beach the roar of the surf was a continuous dull boom. A thin column of black smoke rose into the clear skies and the broken remains of the boat lay scattered across the rocks and washed up on the beach. Fergus sat, carefully watching the captain. The Albanian too was glaring at him and not bothering to hide his hostility. Around the fire Fergus’s companions were passing around the one remaining animal bladder that they’d managed to retrieve from the wrecked ship. The brothers had managed to find a small stream a half a mile inland and were sharing the water they’d brought back.
“So, where the hell do you think we are?” Numerius exclaimed as he looked around the beach.
“I think the storm blew us northwards,” Adalwolf replied. “The weather is cooler here and the winds have been coming from the south-west. That still means we could be anywhere. But I can’t see the Caucasus. My best bet is that we have been drifting northwards.”
“Shit,” Numerius muttered, with a sudden anxious expression. “Well, without a boat it looks like we are going to be walking home.”
As it was being passed around Fergus was just about to take a swig of water from the bladder, when Flavius suddenly rose to his feet in alarm and cried out.
Hastily Fergus stood up, his hand dropping to the pommel of Corbulo’s old sword and turned to look in the direction in which Flavius was pointing. And there on the flat open grassland that vanished away inland, he suddenly caught sight of a small band of stationary horsemen. The riders were no more than forty paces away. They seemed content to observe and made no effort to come towards the fire. Fergus tensed as he stared at the newcomers. They looked like no horsemen he had ever seen before. The men were tall, bearded and with long free-flowing hair. Slung across their backs, they were carrying powerful composite bows and their heads were covered in high pointed caps with flaps over the ears and the nape of their necks.
“They are Alans,” Skula suddenly cried out in an excited voice. “They are my people. Let me go and talk with them.”
And without waiting for permission, he strode away from the fire and towards the band of horsemen with Fergus and Flavius hastening after him.
As he walked towards the horsemen, Fergus could see that the horses had no saddles and the riders were sitting on saddle cloth. The Alans did not move and remained silent, carefully watching Fergus and his two companions. But as the three of them approached, several of the horsemen raised their beautiful composite bows, notched an arrow and trained their weapons on the newcomers. Abruptly Skula stopped and raised his hands. Then in an excited voice he cried out, spewing forth a stream of words in a language that Fergus had never heard him speak before. Instead of trying to understand the words Fergus gazed at the band of horsemen. Hadrian’s Greek advisers had been silent about the Alans during their briefing back in Antioch, except to say that the horsemen who inhabited the vast plains to the north were proud and ferocious warriors who lived to fight. Studying them now, Fergus noticed their richly ornamented leather belts, holding knives, swords and battle-axes. The men’s padded and quilted leather trousers tucked into boots and their long-sleeved tunics reached down to their knees. Over this they were wearing felt coats and their fingers were adorned with bone rings. They looked fearsome and proud and completely at ease on their horses.
One of the men suddenly replied to Skula, and for a moment the two of them seemed to be engaged in a conversation, speaking their strange, unintelligible language. At last Skula turned to Fergus.
“It’s all right,” Skula said hastily. “He says he saw our smoke and came to investigate. He says that we have trespassed on his lord’s land. But he can see we had little choice. He is willing to take us to his camp. It’s a half a day walk inland. I think we should go with him Sir.”
“Tell him that we are Greek merchants,” Fergus said, as he gazed at the Alans and the horsemen stared straight back at him. “Tell him that we did not mean to trespass and that we shall gladly go with him to his camp. We are not here to cause trouble. Tell him that we lost our boat on the rocks.”
Quickly Skula turned to the Alans and spoke to them, and in reply, one of the horsemen said something and gestured to the south.
“He says,” Skula said translating slowly. “That we are lucky to have come ashore in his lord’s land. There is trouble further to the south. He says the clans that border the great mountains are not as honourable and generous as his lord.”
“Well that is the first bit of good fortune we have had in days,” Fergus growled.
Chapter Twenty-Six – The Alani Camp
The plains and gently rolling hills were devoid of trees; just an endless and open expanse of grass and semi-desert. Wearily Fergus trudged along, following the band of Alani horsemen as they crossed the wilderness. It was getting late and across the steppes the temperature was starting to drop. It felt as if they had been walking for hours and, as he turned to look at his companions, he could see that they looked exhausted. But there were no horses for them to ride, so walking was the only thing they could do. Turning his attention back to the Alani horsemen, Fergus had noticed that they didn’t seem hostile, but nor did they seem overtly pleased to have found them trespassing in their lands. The exception was Skula. He was fascinated by the wild horsemen as he strode alongside them speaking to his kinsmen. The bald Alani tribesman had come home Fergus thought, with a sudden pang of foreboding. He had been reunited after all these years with his own people.
Dropping back to walk alongside Adalwolf, Fergus nudged the German diplomat with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the Alani.
“What do you know about these people?” Fergus muttered, as the two of them strode along through the grass.
Adalwolf looked up and gazed at the horsemen in silence. “Not much,” he replied. “Only that they are numerous and stretch from the Danube to the outer ocean. That they love horses and war. That they don’t particularly like Romans.”
“Do they have a king of kings like the Parthians?” Fergus asked.
“I don’t think so,” Adalwolf replied. “I think they are divided into semi-independent clans. Sometimes they unite to fight against foreigners or to go raiding. Most of the time however they seem to be at war with each other.”
Fergus nodded and turned to peer out across the steppes. In the twilight he could not see far into this strange land, but in the big open skies above him, the first of the stars had become visible, twinkling and gleaming like tiny diamonds.
“Let’s hope they will allow us to go on our way without any trouble,” Fergus said as he turned to peer at the Alani. “But I can see now that no one goes on foot in these lands. We need to get hold of horses. On horseback these open plains will allow us to cross large distances very quickly.”
“You also need to know in which direction to ride,” Adalwolf said sourly.
“The horsemen told us that there is trouble to the south along the great mountains,” Fergus said. “That could imply that the mountains are the Caucasus. If so then our journey home lies to the south-west.”
“And how are we going to get hold of horses?” Adalwolf asked with a note of scepticism. “All our possessions were lost in the shipwreck. All we have are our weapons and the clothes on our backs.”
“I have a plan to get us home,” Fergus nodded as he reached up to touch Galena’s amulet that hung around his neck. “But I am going to need your help. I need you to find out where we are. But first we must recover our strength. The last few days have exhausted us.”
***
The tent-covered wag
ons that formed the Alani encampment, were like nothing Fergus had ever come across before. It was dawn and across the vast steppes - an endless sea of grass - the sun was rising, a red ball in the east. Stiffly, Fergus got to his feet from the ground beside the tent-covered wagon where he and his companions had spent the night. The night had been cold, and for a moment he allowed the rays of the sun to warm his face. Then he turned to look around. In the dawn light he could see that the camp had been drawn up along the banks of a stream. Amongst the wagons, with their peaked leather and hide-bound tent covers, the Alani, clad in their peculiar padded trousers; knee length tunics; felt and fur coats and peaked caps, were going about their business. There were no houses; no fixed defences; no sign of permanent settlement - just a semi-circle of nomadic wagons and a multitude of animals, horses, oxen, cattle, dogs and sheep. On the opposite side of the stream, a boy was guarding a large herd of sheep. Further along, a herd of cattle was drinking from the stream and, from somewhere out of sight, a dog was barking. A column of smoke was rising into the clear blue sky from a campfire and out on the open grasslands a party of horsemen were riding their horses. The Alani however ignored him, and Fergus found it hard to distinguish men from women, for they all seemed to be dressed in the same manner. The only attention he and his companions seemed to receive was from a group of silent children, who were standing and staring at him from a respectable distance.
As he gazed at the Alani camp, two women appeared and came towards him, carrying pots covered with cloth. Without saying a word or looking at Fergus, they placed the pots on the ground nearby and departed. Curiously Fergus removed the cloth and saw that one of the pots contained what looked like milk whilst the other seemed to be filled with boiled sheep’s meat.
“Breakfast is here boys,” Flavius called out in a cheerful voice as he raised himself off the ground and approached the pots, sniffing the air hungrily.
Fergus had just finished his meal when a troop of Alans came striding towards him. In their midst, he recognised one of the men who had found them on the beach. Rising to his feet, Fergus turned to face them. The tall nomads with their wild and savage appearance paused and seemed to be searching for Skula. Catching sight of him, one of the men called out.
“What do they want?” Fergus said sharply.
Skula rose hastily to his feet.
“They say we are to come with them to meet their lord,” Skula replied.
Without saying a word Fergus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and quickly handed Arlyn his empty bowl. Then with Skula at his side he set off after the Alans towards one of the tent-covered wagons.
The Alani headman was sitting cross-legged around a campfire, over which a pot of stew was cooking. He was clad in similar clothing to the other Alans and the only thing that marked him out from the others was the gravitas and respect with which his clansmen treated him. On the man’s belt, Fergus noticed a finely crafted image of a deer set into a plaque of solid gold. As Fergus and Skula approached, he raised his head to gaze at them with shrewd eyes. Fergus halted in front of the fire and nodded a quick greeting, which was not returned. Then the headman spoke. His words were directed towards Skula but he kept his fierce blue eyes on Fergus.
“He wants to know who we are and what we are doing in his land?” Skula exclaimed as he translated.
“I am a Greek merchant from Athens,” Fergus replied, speaking in Greek as he gazed back at the headman. “Tell him that our ship was caught in a storm and that we were shipwrecked on the coast. We are sorry for trespassing on his land but are not here to cause trouble. Once we have recovered our strength we shall be on our way.”
As Skula finished translating the Alani headman chuckled and said something to his companions that produced a grin amongst the assembled nomads. Then the headman spoke again.
“He says he has no quarrel with the merchants who cross his land,” Skula translated. “Merchants come here often to trade. However,” Skula said, clearing his throat. “If you are Romans then matters are more complicated. There is a Parthian prince at Derbent who is promising the clans much gold if they are to go to war against the Romans and their allies. He says that the Parthian prince makes an appealing proposal but that he has yet to decide what to do.”
“So, I have heard,” Fergus replied carefully. “But I have no interest in politics or war. I am here just for the profit. Profit that I am willing to share with him if we can come to an arrangement.”
Skula glanced at Fergus with a quizzical look, as he translated. The Alani headman however raised his hand in a dismissive gesture.
“He says we can speak about this later,” Skula translated. “But for now, we are welcome. He invites us to join him and his clan in a feast tonight. The feast to celebrate the end of winter. He wants to know if we will accept his invitation?”
“Gladly,” Fergus replied, with a respectful nod towards the headman. “It will be an honour.”
In reply the headman nodded as he gazed at Fergus. Then abruptly he seemed to lose interest and as he did, Skula gestured for Fergus to leave. The audience was over.
***
The feast began well before night fall and in a fashion that Fergus had not expected. The whole clan, some thirty-five families making up several hundred people, men, women, children had gathered together on the slope of a grassy hill close to the encampment. Archery targets had been placed out in the steppes and, as Fergus and his companions looked on, horsemen came tearing along on their small, shaggy ponies, whooping and shouting, and began shooting arrows at the targets. The rate and accuracy of arrows striking the targets was remarkable. And Fergus’s amazement grew as he saw that there were young women amongst the riders competing with the men. The young women looked fierce, wild, focussed and were clad in similar fashion to the men and they were just as good. The archery contests were greeted with wild ecstatic cries, yells and hollering of encouragement from the crowd. Gazing at the riders, Fergus was reminded of the small Numidian horsemen he’d commanded on the Syrian frontier, but he’d never seen women riding like these Alani. These amazons were a fantastic sight. Glancing sideways at Skula, Fergus could see that he was transfixed as he stared at the competition. Skula had come home and the realisation suddenly made Fergus look down at the grass. He had never seen Skula look as happy as he did right now. The archery duels were followed by a demonstration of horsemanship. Riders came galloping past the crowds at full speed, performing the most amazing acrobatics, and again Fergus saw that the competition did not distinguish between men and women. As the feats of horsemanship came to an end, the crowd started to drift back to the camp of tent-covered wagons beside the stream. A group of older women and children were already busy constructing a large fire. Walking back into the camp with his companions, Fergus saw more women preparing whole sheep for slaughter and cooking.
As darkness fell the feast really began. Over the raging, crackling fire, several sheep carcasses fixed onto iron spits, were roasting, their fat dripping and exploding into the fire. The whole clan had come together and throughout the camp Fergus could hear wild joyous singing, howling and clapping. The Alani had placed him, Skula and Adalwolf close to the headman around the large campfire; a position of honour. In the glow and heat of the flames, the Alani were feasting noisily and boisterously and some were smoking Cannabis. Taking a sip of Koumiss, fermented and slightly alcoholic mares’ milk, from his cup, Fergus turned to gaze at the troop of dancers and singers beside the fire. The women and men were singing, shouting, dancing, clapping their hands and kicking, whirling around and stamping their feet and a few of the Alani were playing musical bone plate instruments. Despite not understanding a word, the noise was pleasing, Fergus thought and the dancing, wild, savage and primitive.
As he looked on, the Alani headman gestured to someone and from the shadows a man appeared, pushing a young woman before him towards Fergus. The girl looked sullen and was unsmiling. At Fergus’s side the headman turned to him and gestured that he should
take the girl’s hand.
“He is giving the girl to you,” Skula called out to Fergus with a smirk. “Tonight, she is yours to do with what you please. She is a gift from the headman.”
For a moment Fergus was speechless as he looked up at the young woman. Then he turned to the headman and nodded his gratitude.
“Skula. Tell him that I am grateful for his generosity and hospitality,” Fergus cried out, trying to make himself heard over the boisterous noise. “He is a generous host. Tell him that I shall attend to the girl later tonight. For now, however she should sit and enjoy the feast. Tell him that I would like to discuss an arrangement with him.”
“An arrangement, Sir?” Skula replied with a frown.
“Yes,” Fergus said. “Tell him that I wish to purchase horses from him for myself and my companions. I shall pay him in good solid Roman gold coins.”
At Fergus’s side Adalwolf paused from smoking the Alani Cannabis and turned to look at Fergus in surprise.
“What?” Adalwolf said sharply. “You have gold coins on you? Where? I thought we lost everything we had in the shipwreck.”
But Fergus gestured for Adalwolf to be silent as he turned to the headman. Skula had translated and the Alani warrior was looking grave as he considered the offer. Then the man looked up and spat into the fire before saying something.
“He will make a deal with you,” Skula said in an excited voice. “But first he wants to see these gold coins.”
In response Fergus placed his cup of Koumiss down on the ground, pulled his cloak from his torso and began to tear apart the sleeve where he’d stitched several gold coins into the lining. As the coins tumbled into his hand, he held them up for the headman to see before handing them over and as he did, he was oblivious to the watchful gaze of the Albanian captain who was sitting nearby.
Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (Book 8 of the Veteran of Rome Series) Page 25
