Casca 7: The Damned (13 page)

Ch'ing was aroused from a half slumber by his slave girl and barely managed to make it to the meeting before Donatus arrived. He was irritated at being notified so late. It was just another example of the insults he had to endure, one more injury he would have to pay back when the time came.

Attila strode back and forth. He was eager to ride. This damned siege had gone on for too long. Here was something he could deal with in terms he understood. Calling for a map, he pointed to the spot where they would meet the Romans. According to his scouts, the Romans should reach the place known as Lacus Mauriacus in the next couple of hours. He would be there to greet them. Attila nearly burst with eagerness; three full legions and their cohorts of cavalry nearly forty thousand men!

Runners were sent to spread the word to mount and fall into formation. Ch'ing was not consulted on anything. It would have done no good anyway. He could see Attila had made up his mind. Therefore, he kept his own counsel. Full of foreboding, he returned to his quarters to prepare for the ride. He could have stayed behind but Attila might need him if anything went wrong.

It would give them more confidence if sacrifices were made and honor shown to their heathen gods. Aetius could ill afford to alienate any of his men at this point. They had to have full confidence in their coming victory. To ensure this, he had paid good gold to have the shamans read fair portents of the coming battle in the twisted intestines of sheep and the cracked shoulder bone of a white ox. Once this was done, he did notice that an edginess among the Germanic federati seemed to ease off a bit. They were more relaxed. A man who was going to face death needed to know that the gods were on their side.

There was nothing for him to do now but wait. He let the men rest in ranks with one rank always standing to in full readiness. Waiting was always the worst of it; however, if things went as planned, it should not be much longer, and already the sun was casting midday shadows.

Attila's outriders came back to him at regular intervals. He wanted a constant stream of intelligence about the terrain ahead. So far they had reported seeing nothing but dry woods and fields where no cattle grazed. The land was quiet.

Attila and his force were making good steady time, moving at an alternating rate of trot and walk. He would not have his horses worn out when they came to grips with Aetius.

He was still five miles from the Catalonian plains and Lacus Mauriacus when the first scout reported back to him that Romans were at the field and in ranks. The master of the Huns was pleased, but at the back of his mind, he still heard the warnings of Ch'ing Li. Ch'ing had been right too many times. He had his force draw up into squadrons. They would now advance at a walk.

He sent out still more fast riders to scour the countryside for any sign of Burgundians or Franks. The heat of the summer sun was enough to force sweat from pores, dry the mouth and start white streaks of lather forming on the shoulders and flanks of the war horses. The air was still. The dust that the horses stirred up formed into thin hazy clouds of sparkling motes swirling around the horde.

The command went out for all to prepare themselves. Bows were removed from shoulders, strings checked, swords loosened in scabbards, spears taken from their wicker carriers and laid across the bows of saddles. With the command went a familiar tingle of anticipation, the building of the urge to kill.

Riders returned from scouting more frequently. They had
been far to the rear of the Roman force. The Roman was alone. Attila nodded his head in dark pleasure. It would not be much longer and he would have Aetius. From his skull, he would fashion a drinking cup of silver and gold, lay rubies in the eye sockets and have the teeth replaced with sapphires.

Ch'ing stayed in the rear of the Hunnish forces. He would move up when the battle began. He knew that at this time, Attila would most likely not listen to him, but he wanted to be close if anything went wrong. Then he might be able to save the day and restore his position when all others failed.

Ch'ing had a bad feeling about everything taking place. There was too much coincidence to suit him and he knew that Aetius was a shrewd commander, a thinker who understood the Hun mind. It was not like Aetius to commit the last of his forces at this place and time. But he would see.... If there was any blame this day, it would not fall on his shoulders.

He moved his horse and his bodyguard up into the gap between two groups of warriors where he would have more protection. He rinsed his mouth from a silver flask filled with spring water to cut the dust and longed again for the silken pavilions of China.

To the rear of Ch'ing, Casca and his small force of three thousand men moved after the Huns. He had to make up time and ordered his men to dismount and run alongside their horses. There were two men to a horse, one hanging onto the saddle, one to the tail. This way he hoped to be able to reach the battlefield in time with his horses still fresh enough to do some good.

The men, he knew, would be all right if he could let them have a half hour or so to catch their breath, but between running and
riding, both men and horses should be in pretty fair condition when they got there. He had learned this technique of long riding from the Huns.

He had to gauge the time perfectly. If he went too fast, the Huns would spot him and turn on his small force and destroy them. If he was too slow, he would be of no use when the battle began. His force was small, but often a few men at the right place and time could mean the difference between victory and death. He had to be on time.

He was concerned about the dust cloud that his force threw up and hoped that, as usual, the Huns were not looking back. Their eyes were always to the front when going into battle.

He gave the order for his men to mount and swung up in his saddle, staying to the front. Before leaving Orleans he had selected a hundred tough looking regular army men to serve as his herders. They kept to the rear, making sure that none dropped behind or tried to desert. After they killed three stragglers, the rest got the idea.

Attila looked across the field where the Romans were lined up in what was obviously a defensive position. The stakes in the front could give him a few problems, but he knew that he had the numbers to win. The forest behind the Romans would slow him down a bit, but if he just took his time, he would be able merely to stand off and let his archers pick the Romans off one at a time.

Ch'ing had moved to the shade of a small grove of elm trees. He dismounted and had a blanket and cushions spread for him to rest on. He also had a good view of the battlefield. One of his guards served him wine of Syria in a paper thin lacquer cup decorated with graceful scenes of waterfalls and swans. He watched the Hun force draw up, the hooves of their nasty
looking horses stamping the earth in impatience.

The men were as wild looking as ever. More of them had armor now than when he had joined, but it was a wild mixture whatever suited the individual's fancy. Skins of sables rested on the collars of shirts that nearly rotted away on their owners' backs. Swords with jeweled handles nestled in scabbards of filthy goatskin. The Germanic tribesmen that served with them were little if any better. The Gepidae were especially loathsome with their fair hair and large, uncouth, ugly bodies. They were nearly the equal of the Hun in their lust for plunder and slaughter, and the weaker the victim the better. They and the Huns were perfect soul
mates in the act of ravaging. He had seen them once take a monastery and then whip the priests with strips of rawhide, forcing them to fight each other for the amusement of their captors.

A movement of men on the right side of the field caught his eye and brought him back to the present. It appeared as if Attila might be getting ready to make his opening move.

Aetius was as ready as he could be. Everything that could be done was. Now it was up to Attila. The movement of the Huns spreading themselves out across the field said it was nearly time for him to light the brush they had piled up in front of one section of the stakes. The brush was dry and had been liberally soaked with oil.

But he would have to wait until the Huns began their attack in earnest. He walked the lines of his soldiers, giving words of praise and encouragement, letting himself be seen by all.

Aetius watched the skies and lengthening shadows. It had better be soon. If the Huns waited until it was dark, it would be too late for him to have any chance of victory. He had to get them moving.

Aetius called for a decaturion to escort him and one of his junior centurions out into the open. The decaturion was selected for his almost legendary lung power. At Aetius's command, he bellowed out an invitation for Attila to meet with them in parley.

Even from where Ch'ing was sitting, he could hear the decaturion's bellow and hoped that Attila would not take the offer. When Aetius wanted to talk, it usually meant someone was going to get the short end of a deal.

Attila responded to the offer to parley and kicked his horse out into the open, taking Ongesh with him. Aetius mounted his own horse and, with the junior officer, went out to meet with the Hun. The long time opponents watched each other as they neared.

Attila was curious as to why Aetius would want to speak at this time, but he certainly had nothing to fear.

Aetius was a man of honor, there would be no ambush set for him.

Aetius thought about trying to kill Attila as they talked but just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had better stay with his original plan. If he was the one killed, then the whole operation would fall apart. There was more at stake this day than just his own life.

The two men and their escorts rode to a spot in the center of the field where they were easily seen by the warriors of both sides. Raising his fist, Aetius saluted Attila.

"It has been a long time since last we met, Lord Attila."

Attila reined his horse up and settled back in his saddle, eyeing his opponent. "This is true, Roman, but then we always knew that this day would come, did we not?"

Aetius nodded his head. "That's true enough, and I am glad we are finally going to get it over with.
Though I will say that while I am going to regret losing you as an enemy, it will give me great pleasure to drag you in chains through the streets of Rome as part of my triumph."

Attila felt his face flush with anger. "You speak of chains, Roman. Never have I lost a battle and always have I taken the Roman in chains to do my pleasure. I was going to just have you killed, but now I believe I shall save you for other amusements."

Aetius laughed in his face. "You filthy savage, do you really think you can beat me? This time you are not facing some novice and there are no traitors here to open the gates for you." He pointed back to his line of legionnaires. "I know you think you have the advantage of numbers, but I have the men: men, do you hear me, not animals! My legionnaires are the pick of the Empire, each of them is worth ten of your filth eaters. You unbelievably stupid savage. I am going to drag you in chains to Rome where your testicles will be removed and you shall crawl to the feet of the Emperor and beg to be permitted to kiss them as his dog."

Aetius ignored the paling of Attila's face and the barely controlled jerk that shook his body. Aetius spat at him. "That is for you and your filth. I only came out to see you one last time. In the event one of my men gets excited and happens to kill you instead of taking you prisoner, I wanted to see your face in order to remember just how incredibly ugly you really are. By the sacred blood of Jesus, there is no place in the world where any civilized race could call you by the name of man."

Aetius reached into his saddlebag, removing a flask of beautifully worked Byzantine gold. He whipped his horse around and tossed it to Attila, who caught the flask easily in the air.

Aetius rode off calling back to him: "My parting gift in case you work up a thirst this day. I know the taste will be familiar and welcome to you."

Aetius whipped his horse back to his lines, his sides nearly bursting with the effort to control his laughter. Aetius slid his horse into the protecting ranks of his legionnaires and finally let loose of his laughter. If what he had just done didn't get Attila moving, then nothing would. He knew that Casca would appreciate the gesture, for it was the scar faced man who had told him of a variant of the trick being used with great success in China, when a Chinese general had an opponent that he wanted to get into battle.

Attila remained where he was, stunned by the words of Aetius. Not even his father or brothers would have dared to address him in such a manner.

The golden flask sparkled in the afternoon sun. Curious, though still in a rage, he carefully opened the top flask and sniffed at the contents from a distance. Aetius was right, the aroma was familiar. He tipped the flask a bit and caught a golden drop on the tip of his finger and touched it to his lips. Attila screamed. Blind outraged fury ripped away all sense of caution. He flung the flask into the face of Ongesh, crying out, "Piss, that's what it is! That motherless piece of Roman filth has given me piss to drink!"

Attila whipped his horse back to his own ranks, drew his sword and cut the throat of
a Utigur warrior who was too slow in getting out of his master's way. Attila was escorted back to his lines by gales of laughter from the Roman lines, as the story made the rounds.

He pointed his sword straight at the Roman ranks.

"Kill me those men, but not Aetius. He is to be taken alive. The man who kills him will be torn apart an inch at a time. Now kill ... kill ... kill!!"

The horde lunged forward
in a mass, horses shoulder to shoulder crowding each other. There was no attempt at tactics, they would just try to roll over the defenders.

Aetius ordered the brush to be lit and a column of black, oily smoke reached straight up to the clear sky. "Now, the time is now.
If we can just hold them for an hour."

The charge of the Huns was restricted by the tree line, which was in a semi oval that channelized the attacking warriors as they drew to within bow range. Aetius ordered the ranks of legionnaires to step back until they were in the trees where they would have maximum protection from the flights of shafts which he knew would soon be reaching out for them.
His own archers were already drawing strings back, awaiting the command to let loose their missiles.

The first barrage of Hun arrows flew in a cloud over the distance separating the enemies ... ten thousand arrows
reaching for the soft unprotected parts of the Roman defenders. The moment the Huns fired, Aetius ordered his men to form a modified tortoise in which the shields of the legionnaires formed a covering beneath which they would have some degree of protection from the flights of deadly shafts.

Most of the arrows did no harm, but even so three hundred men fell in the first minute of the attack. Aetius ordered his men to counter with their own barrage, but they were to aim at the horses, since they were larger targets. The archers did as they were commanded and soon the screaming of wounded and dying horses filled the air. Their mindless cries of pain were worse than those of their riders.

The Huns raced almost to the stakes before turning back. They had no desire to impale their animals on the hundreds of sharpened stakes. When the Huns neared the stakes, the first rank of legionnaires stepped forward and cast their javelins in unison, then immediately returned to their position in the tree line.

Attila had the first rank of Huns in the assault put to death by their comrades for stopping in front of the stakes and not pushing through. The Huns regrouped after their first flurry and hurled themselves and their animals directly onto the sharpened stakes this time. All this served to do,
besides causing the death of several hundred of his troops, was to throw the Hun ranks into confusion as they piled on top of each other in their haste.

Aetius's archers had a field day. There was no way they could miss firing at the mass of wild screaming savages from a distance of less than fifty feet. Aetius held back the rest of his javelins. He would need them later and wanted to let the archers do their work now.

Attila finally gained a degree of control over himself and gave the command for his warriors to withdraw and regroup. He was furious with himself for falling victim to Aetius's ploy. He knew now that Aetius had deliberately provoked him into making precipitous assault. Well, he would not make that mistake again. He had the men and he had the time. The Cur-quans screamed orders and lashed their men with whips until they were once more in their proper groupings.

Ch'ing Li sat comfortably under his shade tree and dined on a meal of cold pheasant, which had been aged just the right amount of time to make the tender meat even more succulent, and watched the proceedings, content to wait until he was sent for, which, if Attila kept up his stupid frontal assaults, shouldn't be much longer.

Attila paused to consider his possibilities. He could send his warriors around the flanks and try to hit them from the sides and rear, but that would mean they would have to enter the trees where they would be the least effective. He gave orders for the Roman deserter, Donatus, to be brought to him. Donatus was a handsome man with clean features and gentle brown eyes. His manner was that of one wellborn, but that was a facade that hid a cruelty which even the Huns admired.

He seemed to take a special pleasure in the slaughter of his own countrymen. He affected the costume of a barbarian, though he kept his face clean shaven in the Roman manner. But in his actions, he was as vicious as the worst of the horde. His devotion to death and to Attila had brought him into the inner ranks of the war councils of the Huns.

He saluted Attila, waiting for his master to speak. Attila kept looking at the stakes. "Donatus, clear me a path through those stakes and I will give you first choice of the plunder of Rome itself."

That was all the encouragement Donatus needed. Plunder meant also the women of Rome. He would like to have a senator's daughter for a slave to humiliate in front of her own father. The Huns always said that Donatus had a good sense of humor.

He grinned. "Give me the Gepidae, Goths and others of the Germanic tribesmen and I will give you your path, Lord." Attila nodded for him to continue. "The Germans are better suited for what I have in mind, as they will have to move fast on the ground and their legs are better suited for the work I will need to have done."

Attila agreed, giving him permission to leave. The Roman traitor knew his job, which was why he had been given command of all the siege machines and heavy equipment.

Donatus gathered his force and sent them to collect bundles of dry wood and long grass. From Ch'ing Li he acquired some oil which would be suitable for starting a fire. The burning brush that Aetius had set in front of his stakes had given Donatus the idea of how to get through the barrier. When his force was ready, he had three hundred men from different tribes mounted, ready to advance. In front of them were three thousand Hunnish bowmen who would provide them with a screen until they were near enough to the stakes.

Donatus looked to Attila for permission to begin. It was granted. The Huns moved off at a gallop,
then as they neared, they fell into full run. Even at that pace, the Huns fired their arrows with great accuracy as they spread out in a frontal line, speeding across the open field.

Aetius, from his position, could only see the Huns in front. He wondered why Attila was trying a direct assault again. It wasn't like him to make the same mistake twice. His answer came when the screen of Huns split to
either side and the German allies of Attila came on until they were nearly on the stakes. Then they threw themselves from their horses, hurling their bundles of grass and wood onto the barrier.

Of the three hundred, half of them died in less than five minutes as the legionnaires cut the tribesmen down with arrows and javelins. But it was too late. The red coals in the pots had been blown into life and several fires were already catching and burning brightly.

Several Romans tried to rush to the barrier and beat out the flames, only to be cut down by Attila's archers. A path was being burned through the only thing which could keep the Huns off the Romans. Smoke billowed up, heavy and choking; luckily, most of it blew back toward the open field.

When the Huns separated, Donatus had pulled back to where he could watch from a safe distance, as the Germans set fire to the barricades. When the survivors turned to run back to the safety of their Hunnish allies, another fifty or so fell to shots in the back or brain. But they had done their job and the bowmen of Attila would see that no Roman would live if he approached the blaze.

Aetius was getting really worried. If help didn't arrive soon, his ass would be in a sling. He tried to reassure his men as best as he could but he was uneasy, considering that his options were damned limited in number. He could pull back into the woods, but that would only delay matters a while. They would have to come out sometime and you could be sure that Attila would not let him get away. No! He would not give into panic and change his plan. He would stay where he was though he knew there were a hundred things which could go wrong and any one of them could mean disaster. But he would stay.

Attila was pleased that the fires were burning fiercely. Earlier, he had been cursing the dryness of the season. Now he was thankful for it. The wood was dry. Soon they would crash through to eliminate once and for all those in front of him.

He told Ongesh to place himself in the front of the main force. He was to have the honor of leading the final charge. He placed his sons on both the left and right flanks to command the wings. Once the center had fallen, they would dismount and go into the woods on foot, leaving their horses behind. From the shelter of the trees, they should be able to do good work, especially if the Romans were retreating as he expected.

The fires were burning down low; the acrid odor of smoke hung over the field. Attila moved to where he could be seen, raised his sword and pointed it at the ranks of the Romans. He raised the shining blade above his head and brought it down sharply. The
Hun force moved forward, first at a trot, then a gallop, and finally at breakneck speed in a wedge formation. The wedge would punch through the opening created by Donatus, penetrate to the rear and fan out. The rest would follow in their wake as water pours through a funnel.

His allies from the Gepidae and Goths would advance with them,
then dismount to fight on foot. They, too, would try to move to the rear, cutting off any escape by the Roman. That would keep them where his horsemen could still maneuver on the edge of the field.

The drumming of a hundred thousand hooves sounded like thunder over the fields. Twenty five thousand Huns in the first wave rode like madmen, screaming wildly. Attila would hold the remainder of his force in reserve; that was one thing Ch'ing had taught him. Always keep a tactical reserve for the moments when things don't go the way you want them, even if everything looks all right. Never commit your reserve until you're absolutely certain they are needed.