The Fox and the Bear (3)
As the legions returned, the tide of battle turned.
Had the barbarians captured the emperor, it might have been different, but the Praetorian Guard had blocked them, thwarting their ambitions.
Now, the enemy had no choice but to cross the pontoon bridges before their retreat was fully cut off. Otherwise, they'd be driven to the riverbank and slaughtered.
The moment I linked up with the Atillca legion returning from the homeland direction, I marched on Belgorod. Adding several allied forces and legions rushing toward it, I assembled a force nearly twenty thousand strong. That was more than enough to massacre the barbarians trapped south of the Drvina.
With fluttering unit banners at the fore, I stood there with my sword at my side.
"Proud eagles of the empire!" I bellowed. "Today, we have the chance to wipe out the bandit scum who've mocked the empire for so long. The time has come to punish those who believed their swift feet let them cross our borders at will, preying on the empire's people like thieves. What answer shall we give them?"
"Death! Death!"
"To hell with the barbarians! Send them to Hades' temple!"
"Yes! The barbarians belong in the depths of hell, boiling with lava and sulfur. With the swords and spears forged by the empire's citizens, we'll send them there. Sound the drums! And shout it out! Today, in the empire's name, we enact justice!"
"The empire triumphs!"
I raised my sword north toward the cheers and pointed.
"Forward! The time has come to do what we must. Follow the thieves' necks!"
"The legion advances!"
The legion standard-bearers led with eagle banners held high. I marched in formation with the soldiers, weapons in hand.
I could have borrowed a horse from another legion, but I chose not to. For this battle, at least, I wanted to walk on my own feet.
It was the bare minimum respect to the warhorse I'd ordered slaughtered with my own hands.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
The soldiers marched in step along the frozen road. As they advanced, our mounted scouts galloped toward Belgorod, returned, and reported enemy movements.
As expected, the enemy was lifting the siege on Belgorod and hastily withdrawing eastward.
'But there's no escape.'
I trusted Brikin had destroyed the bridges.
If he'd done his job right, the enemy was no better than rats trapped in our territory.
As I walked with the troops, a messenger rode up from the rear of the column. He dismounted nimbly before me.
Since even I, the Praetorian Prefect, was on foot, he must have dismounted out of respect rather than report from horseback. I halted.
"Sir."
"What is it?"
"The barbarians have sent an envoy. The legion commander requests your presence."
'An envoy.'
I pondered briefly. I had no intention of letting the Sartia or Goti scum go, not even a hair's breadth. But meeting their envoy could be useful—to gauge their mindset.
I finished thinking and told the messenger,
"Understood. Mind if I borrow your horse?"
"Of course, sir. Use it freely."
He handed me the reins.
I mounted and gave a light kick to its flanks.
Neigh!
The horse lunged forward at my signal, faster than expected. Realizing it wasn't my well-trained mount, I reined it in slightly to slow down.
As I passed the ranks, soldiers banged their shields in salute.
Reaching the 16th Legion's standard, I spotted Rubiot. Seeing me approach on horseback, he dismounted.
"We've been waiting."
"The envoy?"
Rubiot pointed ahead of the halted legion. A barbarian in furs sat mounted there, holding a white flag signaling parley.
I dismounted and stepped forward.
"Who are you?"
"I am Sargess, king of the Goti."
The barbarian envoy declared.
I was genuinely surprised by the answer.
A king?
The barbarians were cornered, sure, but for their king to negotiate personally? I feigned calm.
"I see. A king in person. Unexpected."
"And you, who asked my identity—you're Praetorian Prefect Ain?"
"Yes. But one correction: even if you're a king, I'm the imperial commander. You're in no position to address me informally. If you can't grasp that, our talk ends here."
Sargess scowled briefly. But they were the ones at a disadvantage, not us. He replied,
"Very well."
"So, what do your people have to say to our empire? The moment you chased His Majesty back to the capital and swung your swords, there was no room for talk. Unless you have some extraordinary proposal?"
"Our forces number nearly thirty thousand—ten tribes settled south of the river included. Clashing head-on with this host won't benefit the empire. Provide ships to let us withdraw, and we pledge not to cross the border for five years."
I snorted at that.
Barbarian non-aggression pacts. Tempting if they actually honored it for five years, but they'd break it the instant we showed weakness.
Having spent years on the frontier, I knew better.
"Wiping you out now would buy ten years of peace, not five. Why should we trust your unreliable word and let you go? It holds no appeal for us."
"A battle would cost the empire dearly too."
"War means soldiers die. Our empire's eagles aren't cowards who flinch at that."
Sargess bit his lip.
"Fine. How about this?"
I made a show of listening.
"I'll give you Princess Aldemark's daughter—my sister—and five thousand elite warriors for the empire."
Now that was bold.
A princess and five thousand elites.
The princess was meaningless, really—just a trophy symbolizing victory.
But five thousand nomadic cavalry? They'd be invaluable against Shapur.
As I seemed to mull it over, Sargess drove the point home.
"Plus, we'll return all ten thousand imperial slaves we hold."
"Not entirely insincere."
Relief flickered across Sargess's face.
But I'd never intended to negotiate. I just wanted to read their desperation from their bargaining posture.
I'd gauged their numbers as larger than expected, but this offer screamed chaos in their camp. Desperate tribesmen would flip sides at the first sign we accepted.
Grinning at Sargess, I said,
"I heard you out. But here's the thing."
A chill unease crossed his eyes at my tone.
"I prefer certainty. Killing you all here lets me sleep soundly, feet stretched out. Why pass up a chance to rid the empire of worry so cleanly?"
"You'll fight us?"
"That was decided the moment you crossed the border. Surely you came prepared."
"A cornered rat bites the cat. And we're no rats—we're lions!"
Sargess roared.
I growled back at those blue eyes.
"Rat pups or lion cubs, it's all the same to me. All I know is I must send you to Hades. That's my duty—and your fate."
Sargess ground his teeth.
"You'll regret this decision."
"Doubt it. And soon you'll learn why they call me the Skewer King."
Sargess wheeled his horse away.
As he departed, I returned to the legion column.
Rubiot approached.
"What'd the bastard prattle on about?"
"Offered princesses from two tribes and five thousand elites."
He laughed.
"Princesses from two tribes. Why not take it? They say the Sartia princess is a stunning beauty, at least."
"Can't trade an eagle's pride for any beauty, no matter how fine. Haha."
Rubiot laughed at my reply.
I clapped his shoulder.
"Prepare for battle."
"Yes, sir."
I clasped my hands behind my back against the fierce wind blowing from the river.
The barbarians had camped in a river bend's depression. Not ideal for cavalry maneuverability, but I could guess why.
Simply put, they didn't trust their own allies.
'With the tide turned, those attached tribes could switch sides anytime. Give the signal we'd accept, and they'd join us. To prevent that, they had no choice but to place their army where escape was impossible. One defection, and the whole host crumbles.'
Spotting that and camping in the bend showed the enemy commander wasn't incompetent—quite clever, in fact. Bold enough to scheme ambushes against us.
'But Aldemark, Sargess—you shouldn't have camped in the bend. With the river at your back, your disorganized lot can't hope to hold. Time to pay for your miscalculation.'
I personally took up the drum.
Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.
At my beat, the legionaries gripped shields and advanced step by step. Barbarians bellowed threats.
But their jeers didn't faze us—we held too much advantage.
As we closed distance, arrows flew from their lines.
"Halt formation!"
Officers' orders rang out; soldiers stopped and raised shields. Arrows rained like hail, but inflicted little harm. The barbarians hadn't expected much from them anyway.
'Still, they must have something up their sleeve.'
I beat the drum, scanning their lines.
Then fireballs rolled from their camp. I recognized them instantly.
'Dried horse dung.'
It burned hot and long once lit. The balls themselves weren't lethal, but disrupted front lines effectively.
"Don't dodge the fireballs! Take them on shields! Evading scatters the rear ranks!"
I ordered officers to hold formation. Showing gaps dodging would invite hyena-like strikes. I had no desire to complicate an easy fight.
But soldiers facing the flames firsthand thought differently from me directing from afar.
A few instinctively fell back despite officers' shouts. Well-trained veterans wouldn't have, but rookies led the vanguard.
The fireballs punched through the first rank into the second.
"F-Fire!"
An imperial soldier dodged suddenly; as fireballs neared, rear troops panicked and retreated. Formation inevitably crumbled.
'My mistake.'
I cursed myself for underestimating the bend's terrain. Though indented toward the river, the ground was slightly higher than the interior. Should've factored that in.
As I bit my lip, barbarian cavalry charged our lines. Cornered rats bared fangs.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Warhorses hit full gallop.
"Reform! Reform the lines!"
I bellowed at the troops.
The barbarians were nearly upon us.
Crunch!
The first rank was trampled instantly. Enemy riders crushed infantry, punching through the center. Their footmen surged into the breach.
My face hardened at the sight.
"Loose arrows."
"Sir?"
"I ordered arrows on their breakthrough point."
"Sir."
"That's an order."
I issued the ruthless command. Our men still held there, but hesitation would cost the army dearly. As commander, I decided.
Rikius bit his lip, then shouted,
"Nock arrows!"
I closed my eyes as our soldiers drew bows.
(Continued in the next chapter)