The Goths had nearly defeated the Roxolani when they broke the sacred blood oath. In the aftermath of the treachery my people were faced with a choice. Accept the oppressive Goths as their overlords or join the Hunnic federation. They decided on the latter and I played my part when, assisted by the Huns, the Roxolani crushed a huge Gothic army.
But there had been a price. I was earmarked to be the king of my people, but my growing reputation did not sit well with Octar, the high king of the Huns. I was forced to leave Scythia and go to the lands of Rome.
I was at peace with my decision, as I recognized the hands of the gods in the affair. Arash had guided me to leave the People of the Steppes and join Rome. I did not understand it, but I accepted it.
I had not seen Bradakos for three years. Although I loved him like a brother, I was still apprehensive when we approached the main camp of the Roxolani.
The tribe had prospered under the protection of the Huns. Many thousands of tents and wagons sprawled along the floor of the wide valley. We rode between the tents while bands of villagers and children parted, staring wide-eyed at the strange warriors adorned in red.
We came to a halt close to the large tent of the king.
At least six bodyguards moved in between us and the king’s tent, barring our way.
Two had arrows nocked and the others’ hands were resting on the hilts of their swords. I noticed that the bodyguards’ armour was practical, rather than ornate. I could see the hand of my minimalist mentor.
In any event, we dismounted and Elmanos approached the guards. The lead guard drew his weapon and Elmanos said: "Inform the king that these emissaries from Rome are here to see him on urgent business. The king would be extremely upset should the news of their arrival be kept from him.”
Elmanos did exactly as we had rehearsed.
A guard disappeared into the tent and appeared again a few heartbeats later.
“The king will see you Elmanos. You may bring the foreigners, but their weapons are to remain outside.”
The guards took our weapons and searched us thoroughly for any concealed items.
He was standing next to his throne. Neatly attired in his scale armour made of horse hooves. Bradakos was ever the warrior.
He turned around and in the dim light I saw the scowl that I knew so well.
He looked at us without recognition in his eyes and then I noticed his gaze drifting to me and to Cai.
He turned to his guards and said: “You have done well, leave us.”
The guard tried to complain, but Bradakos silenced him with a wave of his hand.
He walked towards me and embraced me. When he withdrew, I could see that like me, he had tears in his eyes.
I went down onto one knee and my companions followed suit.
“It is good to see you Lord Bradakos.”
He grabbed my arm and raised me to my feet. “Don’t be ridiculous Eochar, you are my brother.”
Bradakos turned towards Elmanos and said: “I thank you for bringing Lord Eochar to me immediately. You have done well and will be rewarded.”
“Elmanos, arrange the best accommodation for the friends of Lord Eochar.”
The Roxolani warrior nodded and led Marcus and Cai from the tent.
Bradakos sighed heavily as soon as we were alone. I could see that the burden of kingship weighed heavily on him.
“Lucius, when I was chosen to be king in your stead, I felt that you had been done a great disservice. Nowadays I think that you were spared much grief.”
“Bradakos, I command less than two hundred men in the armies of Rome. Even that is a great burden. To command a nation must be difficult. Yet I see many children and warriors and the people appear to be in good spirit.”
My mentor grinned and replied: “I didn’t say that all is not well, just that it is tiring to be king.”
“Eochar, tell me about your time across the river”, the king said and poured me a generous helping of red wine into a silver cup. He then filled his own.
I spent nearly a full watch telling him about my time in the legions. I could see that he was truly interested, especially when I relayed the information about the battles. Bradakos was still a warrior at heart.
Once I had told him all he said: “Eochar, I can see that you have been guided onto a path chosen for you, not by you. I will do all in my power to assist you with your mission.”
I held out my empty cup and the king refilled it for me. I took a deep swallow and said: “Tell me what happened to my uncle Apsikal.”
“Not long after you had to leave, your Hun friend, Gordas, was recalled by his king. The Huns had some problem in the east. They left us with only three hundred men. This was not a problem as the Goths was not likely to upset the Huns, as they know that we are part of the Hunnic alliance.”
The king sneered and continued: “But the Goths are ever scheming and deceiving. They bribed the despicable Bastarnae to cause mischief on our north eastern borders. Raiding cattle, killing the odd herdsman. Small things.
To leave these acts unpunished would have been an invitation for the Bastarnae to invade.
Apsikal selected a small force of seven hundred light cavalry. Unencumbered by the heavy cavalry they could travel fast. He left the heavy cavalry and the remaining Huns to protect the camp.
Lucius, I have fought the Bastarnae numerous times. Their name means ‘the people of the boar’. Like wild boar, they live in the forested region of the steppes. They fight with the spear and the bow and are strangers to the way of the horse. Like the Goths, they make their living by digging in the dirt.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me about the Bastarnae long ago. They are not known to be great warriors and our people always thought of them as an irritation rather than a threat.”
“Yes, Lucius. Your memory serves you well.”
He drank again and continued: “Have you heard of the ‘Heruli’?”
“No Bradakos, I have not”, I said.
“Many generations ago, it is said, the forefathers of the Goths lived on the Ice Islands across the Northern Sea. The people who still live there are a race as hard as iron. Some of these Heruli have settled on the steppes, close to the navigable rivers where they keep their longships. From these bases, they raid and plunder far and wide. Some call them the ‘people of the sea’ and they are as at home on a ship as we are on a horse. These huge warriors believe that they are the chosen ones of their dark war god, Woden, who they invoke through magic markings on their bodies, weapons and armour.”
“I tell you this, because the Goths had paid these mercenaries, the Heruli, to fight at their side.”
He remained quiet for a while and I could see that he struggled to relay what had happened. Bradakos swallowed hard and continued in a soft voice.
“Apsikal would not listen to me and he pursued the Bastarnae into the trees. It was in the forest that the Heruli were waiting for us. Apsikal’s horse died when a huge brute nearly severed its neck with his broad bladed war axe. I was next to the king and I was also unhorsed in the confusion.”
“A giant of a man with hair as white as snow came at me. He had the skin of a white bear draped over his shoulders and his whole body down to his knees was protected by thick chain.”
“Lucius, I did not know that a man could be that strong. He wielded a huge axe in one hand as if it had no weight at all. His hands were twice the size of mine.”
I said: “Bradakos, you are a noble warrior and I know that you do not exaggerate.”
He nodded and continued: “He struck my shield and it broke into three pieces. My left arm was numbed by the blow. I tried to parry the next blow with my sword and it bent. I lost my footing, slipped and fell in the mud. Just then, Apsikal ran to my side and pierced the calf of my enemy with his spear. The giant turned on him, grabbed his spear, and struck him on the chest with his axe, slicing through the scale armour and inflicting a mortal wound.”
“I regained my footing but an arrow struck
me in the shoulder from behind.”
“Our cavalry had regained some sense of order after the ambush and our arrows started to find targets.”
“I saw a Heruli a few feet to my left go down with at least six arrows protruding from his chest. The giant pointed his axe at me, grinned and retreated into the depths of the forest with the rest of the Bastarnae and the Heruli.”
“I crawled over to where Apsikal was bleeding his lifeblood into the forest.”
“I thrust my bent sword into the earth and Apsikal gripped the hilt.”
“Apsikal’s knuckles turned white around my sword as his body shook in the grips of death and he said: ‘I wanted to die this way, Bradakos.’ He coughed and blood stained his lips. He whispered: ‘Just be a good king to my people.’ Then he was gone.”
Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks: “Eochar, I was supposed to protect him, yet he was the one who saved me?”
I have never been good with words, yet I think that Arash gave me the words in that moment.
“Bradakos, Apsikal knew that his time was short in this world. You are young and you are the future of the Roxolani. You are a brave warrior and wise leader. He knew that when he willingly gave his life for the future of his people.”
He said: “We took a few captives and they told us about the Heruli. The man who killed Apsikal is the leader of their war band. His name is Hygelac the White.”
Bradakos stood, removed his upper garment and exposed an ugly scar on the back of his shoulder.
“And tell Cai that the ridiculous looking yellow silk tunic he gave me saved my life. The arrowhead only went in half an inch. Without the tunic, I would have been dead.”
Chapter 18 – Thervingi
Bradakos was adamant to send three hundred riders to escort me to the lands of the Thervingi Goths.
I refused. I was unwilling to risk the lives of three hundred of my people. We nearly came to blows, but in the end Bradakos relented.
We settled on him providing us with three of the Huns’ best scouts and two Hunnic horses for each of us.
Once we had agreed, I left to join Marcus and Cai. I wished to wash in the river and rest before we would attend the compulsory feast in our honour. Barbarians know how to feast and I expected that the king would lay on something proper.
Cai and Marcus had already enjoyed a swim and I went to the river prior to meeting with them in the accommodation arranged by the king.
Typical of Cai, he was not forthcoming with information and Marcus was keen to be updated.
Marcus ambushed me as soon as I entered our tent.
“Lucius, tell me what happened. How is it possible that you can get an audience with a barbarian king? Why are they treating us like royalty?”
I sighed on the inside, knowing that I had to take the direct and honest route.
I drew my gladius and for a moment I saw a bit of worry in Marcus’s eye.
I grinned at that and said: “Don’t be concerned Marcus. I would have done it already if I wanted to.”
He chuckled and replied sheepishly: “I know Lucius, it’s just when you draw your sword, people normally start dying.”
“I will tell you as much of the truth as I can”, I said.
“But only if you make an oath on this blade never to reveal it.”
He immediately placed his hand on the sword and said: “I will not share anything. On the honour of my family name.”
I told Marcus everything that he needed to know.
I explained to him that my mother was a Roxolani princess and that I would have been the king of my people. I told him about the Huns and the battle with the Goths.
Needless to say, I left out the part where my father killed the emperor.
After I had finished my story Marcus just sat there for a while with his mouth slightly ajar.
When he had gathered his wits he said: “Lucius, had I not known you, I would have thought that you have a talent for telling tall stories. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
He had barely finished speaking when one of the king’s bodyguards came to fetch us for the feast.
Marcus muttered something about being tired, but I told him: “Marcus, there is no choice here. The king will be hugely insulted should you not accept his invitation. Even I would not be able to prevent them sacrificing you to appease some dark god.”
My ruse worked. Marcus suddenly felt less tired and decided to join us.
A small crowd awaited us. I was escorted to the seat of honour, on the right side of the king, with Cai and Marcus occupying the seats reserved for important guests.
It was truly a wonderful evening and the wine and food was delicious. I eventually had to drag Marcus home, who seemed to have taken to the barbarian ways.
The sun had not risen yet when we broke our fast on leftover meat from the previous evening. We donned our Roman garb and awaited the arrival of the Hun scouts.
I had made quite an impression on the war band of my Hun friend, Gordas. When the scouts arrived, they reported to me and bowed to me.
“Lord Eochar, the favourite of Arash, we are honoured to serve you.” I greeted them in their own language. I turned to Marcus and said: “Please do not stare at them my friend, they interpret staring as a challenge to mortal combat.”
That ended the staring thing. No one relishes single combat with a Hun.
In any event, we left camp mid-morning. Elmanos and his warriors were given the task of escorting us to the borderlands. This was seen as a great honour.
Marcus initially scowled when we had to relinquish our Roman horses for the smaller Hun horses.
“Marcus, if we need to escape capture, no other horses in the world will be able to catch us. A Hun horse will outlast and outrun anything. Trust me, they might save your life.”
He accepted my wisdom, but I must say we appeared far less regal on our small mounts.
We rode north and then east for five days, relaxed in the company of our Roxolani hosts, the Hun scouts ranging far ahead. Every evening we feasted on some or other wild animal taken down by the warriors during the day. Bradakos had been generous and Elmanos carried a stash of good wine for our enjoyment.
On the morning of the fifth day, we came across a shallow river, the name of which I do not recall. Elmanos rode up to me and said: “This is the border of the Roxolani tribal lands. The king told me that I may accompany you if you can be persuaded?”
“No, Elmanos, I cannot be persuaded”, I said.
He grinned and said: “The king knows you well, lord.”
I clasped his arm and he left us to cross the river with the Roxolani war band milling around until we were out of sight.
Marcus turned to me and said: “I thought the Huns would be scouting for us? They are nowhere to be seen.”
“Do not fear, Marcus. They are out there. From here on they will not show themselves, but they will be there. They will alert us should any enemy be close.”
He nodded although he looked unconvinced, muttering something about barbarians not being trustworthy.
On the second day we left the Sea of Grass behind and rode through scrubland, which slowly gave way to the forested steppes. I knew where to go, as Bradakos had told me where I could find the main fort of the Thervingi. Like Rome, barbarians also had their spies.
We had not seen our Hun scouts for nearly three days when one of them appeared behind us from the gloom of the forest.
He held up his open palm in the universal sign and walked his horse past us. Without looking over his shoulder, he motioned for us to follow him.
We walked the horses down a rocky forested slope, crossed a small stream and ascended again until we were level with the narrow trail we had been travelling on.
I nearly did not notice the other scout hidden behind a recently fallen oak.
We moved into the cover provided by the dead tree and we all dismounted on the scout’s instruction.
He put his finger to his lips, pointed to t
he trail and gently placed his hand over the muzzle of his mount to stop any whinnying. We followed suit.
Heartbeats later a lone horseman appeared, slowly walking his horse along the trail. The warrior was clearly a scout. He sniffed the air and remained silent for at least a dozen heartbeats, taking in the sounds of the forest.
The man was tall and muscular with the skin of a wolf draped over his broad shoulders. He wore no helmet but I noticed chain mail underneath his fur cloak.
The silence was broken by the distinct impact of an arrow and next I saw an arrowhead protruding from the man’s temple. He slumped in the saddle but before he could topple off the horse a hand stabilised the body and took the reins.
The head of the third Hun scout came into view as he slowly stroked the horse’s head. As soon as the skittish animal had calmed down, he led it and its dead master towards our hiding place.
The Hun arrived shortly, shrugged and said: “The scout sensed us. He had skill. I had to kill him when his hand went to his sword.” I nodded in agreement.
The Hun pried the dead man’s hand from the hilt of his sword. He drew it from the scabbard, revealing a magnificent blade, carved with strange writing symbols.
I realised that the scout was a Heruli mercenary, one of the feared wolf warriors from the Ice Islands of the north.
We became aware of a commotion caused by a multitude of men travelling along the trail. They were talking and laughing loudly, depending on their scout to warn them of any ambush. We were not concerned that they would discover us as we were well concealed.
We counted at least one hundred and sixty men.
I was amazed at the size of the men. Among any population, one tends to find the odd man who is larger and more muscular than the rest. Not so with the Heruli. They were all taller and more muscular than any warrior I had ever come across. Unlike the Goths, these men were all fully encased in armour and every man had a spear as well as a sword or war axe.
In my heart I knew that they were on their way to the Goths’ settlement. The Goths had subjugated many smaller Scythian and Germanic tribes. Apart from the plunder they also received annual tribute in the form of grain, livestock, silver and gold.
Legionary Page 10
