The Sea of Grass

by Gilbert M. Stack

  “Then two to three days to return. We’ll push hard, but the horses have to be in shape to fight when we get here,” Evorik finished.

  “So eight to twelve days all told,” Marcus summed up for him. It sounded long. Everything depended on when the savages came against them, or even if they came. It was possible that Tertium had not fallen yet and they would return to bring their force against that presumably sturdy fortress. But in his heart, Marcus didn’t believe the fort still stood. The savages were coming here when they lucked out and caught the legion in the open. No, the battle was coming. It only remained to be seen how much of a hurry this Teetonka was in after what looked to be a crushing victory.

  He would give his men time to loot the dead and the legion baggage train. He’d also want to rest his horses after the battle and give his wounded time to be treated. But after that, he would come in his thousands thinking to have a quick victory at Fort Quartus as he had evidently had against the better garrisoned fortresses of Segundus and Tertium. How would he react when he found things not to his expectations? Would he hold up and think the matter through or send his men against the fort in one mad rush to overwhelm them with their numbers? Both options held advantages and disadvantages for Marcus but both courses of action required the same response from him now.

  In the hazy light of predawn he saluted Evorik and his men one more time as they rode out of Fort Quartus and headed north at a fast walk. His horses could not possibly be fully recovered from their journey across the salt pan and here they were depending on them to hold up under another arduous journey. Evorik’s numbers were too hopeful, but again, right or wrong it had no impact on Marcus’ duty.

  He turned away as the rim of the sun broke the horizon to find Evorik’s wives still standing next to him. “He’s a strong and capable man,” Marcus reminded them. “He will rally a relief force and return in record time.”

  Hilduara, the senior wife, nodded gravely. “Only a fool stands between Evorik and his goal.”

  Marcus hoped she was correct. The truth was that he really didn’t know the Gota lord that well, although he continued to like what he learned of him.

  “I was wondering, Lady Hilduara, if you and your sister wife would be willing to help in the defense. We are going to have many wounded if the savages come against us here and I was much impressed at your ability to help Señora Carmelita with her child birth. Would you be willing to organize a hospital for us here in Fort Quartus?”

  Hilduara did not even look at Riciberga before agreeing. “You make good sense. We will get the Gente woman and assess our needs.”

  Decision made they turned to leave, but the guard on the gate interrupted them. “Tribune, I think you’d better see this.”

  Marcus stepped through the gate to find what the guard was looking at. Evorik and his men had made good time for such a short while, already more than a mile away, but in the distance a group of horsemen had clearly spotted them and were angling to cut the Gota off well before the hills.

  “He’s a strong man,” Riciberga reminded everyone. “Woe be it to the savages that catch up to him.”

  “I make their numbers about even,” Marcus said, “although their bows do give the savages an advantage.”

  “Evorik is a wily one,” Hilduara said, “this will not stop him.”

  Marcus wished that he could be as certain.

  Day Fourteen

  Time Is Not Our Friend

  Marcus found Seneca with the drivers of the legion wagons, using their horses to haul a very large stone up out of the trench the legionnaires and the civilians from the caravan were digging around the center of the castrum. It was a huge boulder and the horses strained mightily to lift it while a couple of red band legionnaires from the fort used their shovels to ease the stone’s path out of the hole.

  It took about fifteen minutes before they accomplished it. Now it was just a matter of moving the boulder a few hundred feet to the place where the creek cut through the outer wall.

  “Good!” he complemented them. “Keep the stone moving. I want that creek damned before noon, understand? Earlier if you can manage it. It’s going to take forever to fill this fort and make my lake.”

  Working legionnaires and Gente merchants alike paused in their shoveling to stare at him, doubtless wondering what he was talking about.

  “And you men,” Marcus addressed them. “Keep digging. This new wall is critical to our survival.”

  Capitán Adán moved in and brow beat civilian and legionnaire alike until they got back to work. Marcus offered him a grave nod of his head before moving on to find Calidus. “Originally I saw my barricade just inside the entrance to the fortress as a sort of reverse wall with the ditch facing toward us, rather than away. Now I think that may be too ambitious given our time restraints. Can you build me a thick mound maybe three or four feet high and at least six feet thick? That way, survivors coming into the fort can walk or ride up the mound on one side and down the mound on the other, but it will still keep any water flooding the outer fort from escaping out the gates.”

  Calidus nodded. “That sounds fairly simple and it solves the problem of finishing the wall while the savages gather outside the gate shooting arrows down upon us.”

  “Good! Take twenty men from the inner wall and get to it. Time is not our friend. If they don’t take a day or two to recover after yesterday’s battle, the savages could swoop down on us this morning or this afternoon.”

  “The inner wall is not going to be finished by this evening,” Calidus told him.

  “No, it’s not,” Marcus agreed. “But I think it will be finished sometime tomorrow. That will free more men up for other projects while the others deepen the ditch and strengthen the wall. Now get to it and don’t let anyone slack off. Our lives are going to depend on the work we do in the next day or two.”

  Calidus saluted and strode off to do as he was told.

  ****

  Marcus greeted another group of Gota horsemen—fifteen this time which was frankly much better than he had expected.

  “Lots of men got away,” their leader explained. “When the square collapsed there was chaos all around. The savages simply couldn’t kill everyone fast enough. There are more men out there. We saw many on our way here.”

  “Could you find them again?” Marcus asked.

  The Gota frowned.

  “I know you and your horses are tired, but I need those men to hold this fortress until Lord Evorik returns with reinforcement from Topacio. Can you find them again?”

  Lord Evorik’s name seemed to strengthen the man’s resolve. “Of course I can, Tribune. We will start out immediately.”

  “First I want you to go the inner fort, get a meal and some water, and change horses. Warrior Atta brought in a dozen or so riderless mounts when he went out on patrol this morning. He’s back out there now, but there are fresher horses to be had then the ones you’re riding.”

  The warrior nodded at the sense in Marcus’ words. “We’ll eat and drink in the saddle,” he told him.

  Marcus did not reject that idea. He needed those soldiers. “Take extra water skins as well. A drink will help speed those men back here.”

  Again the warrior showed his agreement with a quick nod of his head. He started to lead his men deeper into the fort, but Marcus stopped him. “I’m glad to have the strong warriors of the Gota to fight beside us. We suffered a defeat out there yesterday, but we are far from beaten.”

  Several of the men grinned at that, then kicked their heels into their horses’ sides and rode off to get their food.

  Marcus turned back to examine the plains to the east. After watching the group of horsemen heading north to cut off or possibly rendezvous with Evorik, he’d seen no more sign of the savages. Could those earlier horsemen be Gota also trying to reach home to rally reinforcements? From this distance there was really no way to tell. But every hour without the savages appearing made the fort a little stronger. Seneca and Severus had succe
eded in blocking the little creek and the flooding of the fort—if it could truly be called that—had begun. Now Seneca was strengthening the dam, making it harder to take apart. His plan appeared to be working if they just had enough time.

  ****

  In mid-afternoon, Marcus saw the first group of legionnaires arrive who did not get an assist from Gota horsemen. They were marching in formation. They’d lost their shields—an almost universally accepted symbol of cowardice—but their sheer sense of dignity defied this explanation. It was the spirit that Marcus so desperately needed in his defenses—a self-awareness that recognized that they had been beaten without admitting they had been broken or defeated.

  “Legion halt!” the Red Vigil leading the twenty-seven precious legionnaires snapped the order and the entire line stopped immediately in front of Marcus and saluted.

  Marcus returned the greeting.

  “Red Vigil Honorius Cletus and legionnaires reporting for duty, Tribune!” the leader announced.

  Marcus wondered what the man thought of the preparations he could see in front of him—a mound rising in front of the gates, a wall rising around the inner fort, a strange Tribune greeting him. If it troubled the man in any way he gave no hint of it in his expression.

  “Welcome back to Fort Quartus, Red Vigil. You and your men are sorely needed. In a moment I’ll send you to the inner fort to get a meal and four hours of sleep. I can’t spare you anymore. We’re expecting the savages to follow you home and we want to be ready to properly greet them.”

  One of the men in back, a black bander by his age, grinned at Marcus’ tiny witticism and it did the Tribune’s heart a world of good.

  “What’s your name, legionnaire?” he asked pointing at the man.

  Surprised, the man barked it out without thinking. “Lysander, Tribune. I’m black band.”

  “You’re also an Acting Black Vigil, Lysander,” Marcus told him. “I need men with heart and men with experience and you look to have both. Now the rest of you men, go get some food while the two vigils here tell me how you escaped the savage horde.”

  Lysander’s grin returned fierce and proud and he stepped up next to the Red Vigil while the men filed into the fort.

  “Well?” Marcus prompted them. “Report!”

  Red Vigil Honorius spoke first. “There was utter chaos when the square collapsed, Tribune, and the savages just couldn’t kill all of us. I led what I could of my band out of the storm and we hid in a little gully until nightfall. I would have liked to have done more for the others, but there was no hope. There were thousands more of the savages than there were of us and there was just no way to hold the phalanx together after the square broke.”

  Marcus glanced at Lysander. “It was pretty much the same for us, Tribune. My vigils were dead but three of my mates and I got clear and we hid until nightfall when we commenced the run/walk to return and warn the fort. We caught sight of the Red Vigil here shortly after dawn and linked up with him as did several other small groups.”

  “How many more do you think escaped?” Marcus asked.

  Both men paused to think for a moment. “Not hundreds,” Lysander finally said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if there were dozens or more.”

  “I considered hiding again when the sun rose,” the Red Vigil admitted. “If I’d done that, especially if we hadn’t run/walked, I think I would have reached here sometime tomorrow.”

  That made a lot of sense to Marcus and the fact that these men had come here instead of trying for the comparatively greater safety of the Jeweled Hills told him these men were not cowards. They would still fight. But he needed more information.

  “How about Fort Tertium? Do you have any idea if it’s already fallen?”

  The two men exchanged glances. “I don’t know, but, it seems likely doesn’t it,” Lysander said. “Teetonka must have been coming here when he caught sight of us marching. He had too many men to have come here and still be laying siege to Tertium.”

  “And how many do you think he’s coming with?” Marcus asked.

  “At least five thousand,” Honorius answered while Lysander said, “Five thousand.”

  It was unusual for two different people to make identical estimates so Marcus pressed them on it. “How did you come to that number? If they surprised you, there would have been little chance to count heads.”

  “We talked about it,” the Red Vigil said. “I can’t remember how we agreed to that count, but it’s a hell of a lot of savages.”

  Marcus appreciated the clarification. “And when do you think they’ll reach here?”

  “I can’t say,” the Red Vigil admitted. “We did see a few small groups of scouts today but not the main army.”

  “They spent much of yesterday torturing people,” Lysander added. “You could hear their screams deep into the night. If they’ve enough prisoners, we might gain a day or two to prepare while they have their fun.”

  “Hmmm,” Marcus mused. “I hate to see any of our men suffer, but every hour they buy us will make us that much stronger.” He gestured for them to enter the fort. “Come with me and I’ll show you what we’re doing. If you have any ideas as to how to make it better, sing out.”

  Together the three men climbed the still far too shallow mound before the gate. Calidus’ men were hard at work growing the pile of earth and the teams dragging rocks in the wagons were bringing up another load.

  Both of Marcus’ new vigils looked confused by what they saw.

  “You remember the creek that runs through the castrum over there?” he asked them.

  Both men agreed that they did. “We’ve blocked it up so that it’s overflowing. The water hasn’t reached this far yet, but it will overnight. If we get enough time, it will flood the entire castrum short of that new wall we’re building around the inner fort.”

  Lysander’s eyes bulged with sudden appreciation. “Bet the savages have never seen anything like that before.”

  “That’s probably too much to hope for,” Marcus cautioned, “but it seems likely they will not have much experience assaulting islands.”

  “So they drain your little pond,” Honorius said, “and that buys us what—a few hours?”

  “I’m hoping for more than that,” Marcus said. “I’m hoping they try and assault through the standing water—I doubt it will be that deep. I’m hoping they bring their ponies through that gate, over that mound—”

  “And into the ditches to either side,” Lysander cut in. His wolfish smile had returned to his face.

  “And we’re starting to add shallow ditches throughout the fort,” Marcus explained, so that first charge is likely to cause a lot of chaos—”

  “And the legion is good at taking advantage of chaos in our enemies’ ranks,” the Red Vigil started to understand the plan. “Oh, and the mud,” he added with a grin every bit as nasty as the Acting Black Vigil’s. “It’s a small thing, but small things can make a big difference, especially when they’re bound to be unfamiliar with them.”

  “By itself this is too small to win the day, but we have a large store of pilum, Marcus told them, “and we’ve been adding men all day. Our odds are improving rapidly.”

  “Tribune,” Lysander offered, “there’s a man that made it out with me whose father was a blacksmith. It’s been years since he, himself, did any of the work, but there is a smithy in the fort and I wonder if he couldn’t fashion us some caltrops. With the light moccasins the savages wear and a bit of water and mud to hide them, they might do a lot of damage if we placed them right before the ditch surrounding the inner wall or scattered them on the backside of that mound before the gate to make the savages veer into the pits.”

  Now it was Marcus’ turn to flash a predator’s grin. “Making that happen just became your first responsibility, Black Vigil. A surprise like that—it’s what we need to win this thing. You see, they surprised your Great Tribune when they caught the legion in the field, and they may well have surprised Fort Segundus too. But—�
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  “They took Fort Segundus?” the Red Vigil interrupted him.

  “Yes, and we think they took Tertium, don’t we?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Those are big losses for the legions, but we’re going to turn those victories into a disadvantage for the savages. They think they know what’s coming, but they’re wrong! I want them to come running in, charging over the walls—preferably at night and find themselves at least ankle deep in water, splashing their way toward our inner wall. Let them throw the gates open and bring in their horses. I want to hear the screams of man and beast as they step on our caltrops and fall into our pits, and slip in the mud. And then when they finally reach our inner defenses we’re going to hack them into pieces—butcher the poor uncivilized bastards and keep killing them until they break and go running back outside the fort wondering what in the Gota’s icy hell has just happened to them.”

  He stared each man hard in the eye. “And when they come back, we’ll give them more of the same. And if they’re too afraid of another straight up response, we’ll let them drain our little lake and laugh at their cowardice. And when they finally come again, we’ll kill them again, as many times as it takes, because you see, we have one more surprise in our bag. Lord Evorik, brother of the Thegn of Topacio, has gone to seek a relief force. He’s left his two wives here under our protection so he could travel faster. All we have to do is hold on until the Gota come. So go up to the inner fort, get something to eat, and get a little rest. Then get to work helping us make these walls stronger so we can teach the savages what it really means to fight the legion!”

  ****

  The creek had over-spilled its banks and was spreading onto the parched ground to either side with more gusto than Marcus had truly expected. He didn’t know a lot about water. In his home in Aquila, creeks came out of the hills to meander ever downward until they ran into a river. Here the nearest hills were sixty miles distant and the water didn’t flow from them but just seemed to bubble up from the ground. But it obviously came from a larger source because the engineers who had built the fort had not been satisfied with the spring. They had built the headquarters complex on a slight rise above the source of the creek and sunk a well through that hill to tap the body of water at its underground source which meant that the defenders would have a fresh source of water so long as the new wall held.