The Songs of Slaves (43 page)

“They killed the wrong people. They made enemies of their friends. And all at once, the
foederati
that had been fighting for them turned against them. They wanted revenge on these cowards for shedding the innocent blood of their loved ones, and so they turned to the man who could help them get it. T
ens of t
housands of them left the Roman lines and hastened to join Alaric. Alaric’s army grew, and continues to grow. We too, now hasten to join him. Alaric has seen the whole truth. He was born into the knowledge of the Roman lie; then he struggled to fix it at Frigidus, then through his own actions against the
Imperium
; and now he has seen the fruit of Rome ripen and their evil come to its fulfillment, as they have murdered the one general who could save them and forever alienated the men who could strengthen their ranks. The time is now. The time will never come again. It is our time. Change must come, and we must bring it. We are going to purify the
Imperium
, to remove the dross and make it a place for our people.”

“How?
”
Connor whispered. “How are you going to do it?”

“We are already doing it,
”
Valia
utte
red
. “Alaric is already there! We are going to join him. We will join him at the gates of Rome.”  

Part III

The Alps

409
AD

XIX

             
“Ambush.”

             
In the four weeks he had known him it was only the third time Connor had heard Tuldin speak. They had entered the Alpine pass three days ago, and so far it seemed to Connor that they were almost always in a prime position to be attacked. The wagon train they led was slowed by women and children, and forced to snake out as the Goths picked their way along the narrow channels through the gray stone. Even when their way was less choked they were then exposed on steep, rocky terrain so windswept that it was devoid of trees or natural cover. If they were attacked by a competent enemy many would die even before they could turn the group around.

             
But Tuldin was right. The path ahead cut about half a mile through a particularly narrow channel in the cold stone. Rock slopes
rose
ten to twenty feet on either side, and were covered with loose stones and heavy boulders – making them almost impossible to climb, while offering enemies the opportunity to throw missiles or roll down boulders with impunity. At the head of the ravine the land rose too, so that anyone who
could make it through the gauntlet would then have to clamber over the high ground before they could escape.

             
“Yea, though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death …”
Connor quoted.

             
“Well if no one has made a
bacaudae
tollbooth
of this place yet, it’s a waste,
” Gaiseric said, his voice cheerful despite the chill rain that had been falling lightly but relentlessly for hours. Though only a mist at times, the rain had been working through their layers of clothing like a sieging army, until the four men were drenched. The wind which blasted down from the higher mountains was doing the rest. As
their wool cloaks
still kept some body heat in even when wet, Connor, Tuldin, Gaiseric, and Henric were merely miserable. Had it not been for that protection and their constant movement they could have been in
danger.
Near the beginning of December and climbing steadily into the Alps, the air had seemed to get colder with every step forward. Connor tried not to remind himself that this was only the beginning.

             
“What do you mean by
bacaudae
tollbooth
?” Connor asked.

             
“It is a perfect position,” Gaiseric said. “Anyone who takes the land route from Gaul to Italia must pass through the mountains. People pass through to trade or to fight. In a spot like this, you can hide from those who pass through to fight if they are too strong for you. They might not even know that you were here. But with even a few men, you could hold up anyone less threatening and charge them money or goods to pass safely through. Here we are, only three days into the mountains
–
a perfect distance for
bacaudae
to collect, because they are near enough to follow other enterprises inland, but far enough away to feel safe.”

             
“Sounds like you know a lot about it,” Connor said.

             
“Been dealing with bastards like that my whole life,” Gaiseric shrugged. “They are like dogs – most are peasants and fools and nothing to a real warrior. But like dogs, get a few of them together, or under the right conditions, and they can take warriors down. You got to know how to handle them.”

             
“And the best way to handle them is to avoid them,” Henric said, dismounting.

             
“We’re going to go have a look, then,” Connor said, following his example.

             
Gaiseric and Tuldin took the reins to the horses as Connor and Henric prepared to run reconnaissance on foot. In his month travelling with the Visigoths Connor had already had many such opportunities and knew the plan as well as the others. Henric would often take turns with Gaiseric; but Connor always chose to be runner, as it gave him a chance to put his speed and stealth to work. Tuldin seldom ran, as he was too valuable to the team providing covering fire if things went bad; and Valia never went because he was too valuable to his people to risk on such a task. Many noblemen would consider it beneath them to ride as a scout in the first place, but Valia felt that it was the best way to protect those in his charge and to know exactly what was going on.

             
But today Valia had been asked to stay back by Sarus on the pretext of discussing issues. He was with the main body, which were all probably making camp at this late afternoon hour. The four of them had ridden out alone that morning, their minds darkened by wondering what could be so important to Sarus that he
would take such formal measures. The young lord had seriously misjudged Sar
us’
reaction to their im
position at the
Montevarius
estate
. At the time Valia had expected some trouble, but they had not broken any tribal laws – in fact, they had stuck close to them in every respect. Valia thought that he was doing the right thing not only to confront his rival’s pride and misdeeds, but also to protect all of them from the danger Arastan was placing them in. But he should have known better – Sarus was not pleased that his son had been interfered with, much less injured and humiliated; not to mention that Sarus himself was profiting from the cut of the plunder that Arastan was giving him. Sarus had been furious, but had been unable to do anything about it due to the political restraints of the situation. Nonetheless, Valia knew that relations between them had taken an irrecoverable turn, and Connor knew well that not only Arastan, but Sarus and his men would not hesitate to do harm to him and
Lucia
both if they got the chance. As he feared, this fact made it impossible for him to leave as yet. He had to stick close to Valia’s side. And so he had ridden out with the scouts every day, not just for his own safety
but to return the service
of protection
that his new mentor had given him.

In truth, though, it was more than that. Though a captive of circumstance
–
riding in what must have been a doomed army on a crusade he had no place in, to a place that was hundreds of miles away from where he was trying to go; though hated by some of the most important men in the camp and still spurned and accused by
Lucia
–
he felt alive, useful and excited. He had felt like this before – at times when he was providing for Dervel and the others, or when he was grasping what Titus was trying to teach him, or even at times when
he was working at Montevarius’
right hand. He only hoped that this would end better than any of those undertakings had; but of course had no reason to believe that it would.

             
Connor unfastened his baldric and reconfigured it so that it was outside his gray cloak with
Archangel’s
scabbard across his back. Henric and he would lose the advantage of being mistaken for ordinary travelers this way, but it was an important step for sound discipline. The leather laces he had worked into the light chain mail coat that Valia had given him ensured that it fit
well enough to not cause any unnecessary noise either. He left his shield, three javelins, and spear with his horse and set out beside Henric at a jog, skirting the path and making their way up and around the right side of the mountain.    

             
The mist seemed to thicken as the two men scrambled up the slope. It would conceal them, Connor thought, but it would conceal the enemy too
. They would have to be right
on top of them before they saw anything. Reaching
the crest
, Connor crouched low and listened for any sound. Henric motioned him forward, and they skirted along the top of the gulley. To their right the grade was somewhat gentler, and a few contorted trees had found purchase in the poor soil. Connor could hear a stream nearby, but could not see it in the impenetrable fog.

             
Connor and Henric stopped at t
he same moment,
silently
going to ground. T
he ghostly figure that had seemingly coalesced out of nowhere was still staring down into the ravine. Connor fought to control his breathing. Not twenty paces ahead was a man sitting against a boulder. His hair was dark and unkempt. Though he was probably in his twenties, his face was
weathered prematurely. He held his cloak close to keep out the cold and the rain as best as he may, so Connor could see nothing of his gear or of any armor he might have; but Connor could clearly see a spear beside him, and much more importantly a bronze hunting horn strung around his neck.

             
“Look,” Henric breathed voicelessly. Connor would never have heard him had he not been so in tune with his flank man. Slowly, Connor moved his head to the left and to the right. Despite the mist he could see others. Far off to the right there was another man sitting atop a boulder, and about fifty paces directly in front of them there was a third sentry. Connor’s pounding heart beat even harder – aside from the small amount of bracken they had no cover. If the mist cleared away from them, they would be caught.

             
Keeping low, Connor and Henric crept back from the direction they came until the sentries were out of sight. The distance of only a few hundred feet seemed to take forever to cross. Connor’s hands were shaking. With every move he felt sure they would be seen. But Connor and Henric were hyper-vigilant while the sentries were lulled into inattention from sitting
outside in the mist for hours. Their primary interest was the pass, and they did not see the two shadows that melted away from them slowly down the hillside. At last, Connor and Henric took shelter behind an immense boulder.

             
“The
bacaudae
are here, but we have no idea how many,” Connor whispered. “We cannot go back until we know more. This may be our one chance.”

             
“A chance we would lose entirely if we are caught,” Henric replied. “And Gaiseric and Tuldin would not even know what happened to us. Look – darkness will soon fall.”

             
“Return to Gaiseric and Tuldin.
Then fall back a little further. I will try to get a better look. If I am not back very soon then return to the camp and tell the others.”

             
Henric shook his head. “It is not worth the risk.”

             
“We
need to know what is out there,” Connor whispered.
“
Without that our whole company runs from twenty men or attacks a thousan
d.”

             
Henric considered for a moment and then nodded. “This is no time or place for debate. But I can see the wisdom of your words. Go then, but cut a wide berth. You are a fine hunter, but you cannot count on making it by so many eyes. We have already been lucky today.”

             
Connor nodded as he rose to a half crouch.

             
“Godspeed,” Henric said as they clasped hands.

             
Henric disappeared into the mist, hastening back down the slope. Still crouched low, Connor ran the steep ground to the far right of the pass. Henric had spoken truly – it would be extreme foolishness to try to pass the sentries, even if
they were focused on the pass. Instead h
e would have to outflank them, and then, if he could, he would find a vantage point to see what lay beyond.  When he had covered several hundred yards – far enough that he believed to be clear of the three that he had seen as well as any he may have missed – Connor started to climb the slope once more.