18. The Battle of the Camp
Hannibal's Camp
Ronicus awoke just before dawn. He was surprised at how well he had slept. Now it was time to face his last day. Shegovia had been brutally frank about his situation. I just wish I had my own tunic. This thing they put me in is like a sack.
The tent flap opened. Four Gallic women, dressed all in white, their faces painted with soot, entered from the darkness outside. One carried his tunic, cleaned and patched. Another held his cloak, and the others each carried part of his cuirass. Before he could say anything, they stripped his tunic off of him.
An old man, dressed all in white, entered. He carried a bowl of water. Giving it to the women, he chanted as they bathed him. Ronicus stood still, too confused to say or do anything. When they were finished, they dressed him in his own clothes and armor. Each of the women then kissed his cheek before exiting. There were smears on the cheeks of the youngest, as though she were crying.
Drakko and Eddorix entered. They bowed to the old man, who left. Drakko produced some bread and cheese, while Eddorix handed Ronicus a wine skin. The three sat down and ate a quick breakfast.
What kind of conversation do you make at a time like this? "I, I hope that you're ready for today, Eddorix." Ronicus looked over at the blond giant. "I heard what Shegovia said to you, that you should have first claim. If you do it right, then it shouldn't be any worse than a really bad hair cut."
Eddorix looked like he was going to cry. Drakko cleared his throat.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Carthaginian methods of execution are barbaric, even by barbarian standards."
"They're harsh." Eddorix nodded. "Yeah, verily."
Oh, man! Stay cool, Ronicus. Be a man. "I guess we need to go then. Thanks for the food."
Ronicus adjusted his cloak and squared his shoulders. Drakko opened the tent flap for him. He stepped outside.
Any fantasy of escape evaporated with the spectacle. Carthaginian swordsmen lined the way, shoulder to shoulder. Their faces were impassive as he walked past them. So were those of the Libyans who were next. The Iberians were respectful. Then he reached the Gauls.
The first ones clashed their swords against their shields. Others were waving spears overhead. He could hear them calling to him.
"Hurrah for Ronicus! Show us how a man dies, Ronicus!"
He hesitantly raised a hand to the right. They cheered. His left hand brought a similar response. Despite himself, he smiled, this brought a booming yell.
A chieftess, stunning despite the scars, ran out and swept him up in her arms. She kissed him full on the lips. Her tribesmen cheered lustily.
Four huge men now appeared. They set Ronicus on a large shield, and hefted it onto their shoulders. They trotted down the line, and the Gauls honored Ronicus as a hero. Caught up in the moment, he waved to both sides, smiling.
I guess if you're going to your death, this isn't that bad.
After a while they stopped and knelt. Drakko and Eddorix came up behind Ronicus, and the more normal march was resumed. Ronicus could hear Hannibal addressing his men in the near dawn.
The troops were drawn in a great square. Ronicus could see a pavilion on the east side. The Lion and Palm banner waited for its trip into Rome. In front of Hannibal was a forest of captured standards. Dadus's must be there somewhere. Then he saw his own sword, shield and helmet mounted as a trophy.
Ronicus stared at the nightmare of Rome. Hannibal wore his battle armor, the nicks and dents showing that he was not afraid to lead from the front. His one eye gleamed in the torch light, and now the red of the sun glowed on his bronze Corinthian helmet.
"A warm welcome to our most worthy foe!" Hannibal gestured to Ronicus, and the army gave a cheer. "It is only fitting that in your all-too-brief stay with us, you see the weapon that will end this war today. Matho, if you please."
A Carthaginian officer left the pavilion and made his way to the shrouded thing. The sun was now rising. There was a rustle as the sails slipped off and onto the ground.
"Behold! The Sun Stealer of Archimedes!"
It was a huge, strange contraption on a wheeled platform. A tripod supported what appeared to be a giant bowl. At first he thought it was metal, but no metal reflected light half so well. Water doesn't reflect like that. Ronicus could see every detail of the sun rising over Rome. Suddenly he realized that he could see Rome's doom.
Once the sun is fully risen the weapon will destroy the Western Gate. Then it will be Hannibal's army against a handful of legionnaires and the militia. They won't stand a chance.
Hannibal looked down to Ronicus. "What I do today, to you and your city, I do without joy. As this is a day which will live in history, I have my personal historian to record your last words. What have you to say?"
"You have me at a loss for words." Ronicus rubbed the back of his neck. "Could you maybe come back in forty or fifty years?"
The Gauls roared with laughter. Hannibal chuckled. "I'm going to miss this one, Mago."
He turned back to Ronicus. "Ronicus, you are both the most, and the least, Roman of all my foes. In both ways I mean that as a compliment. However, the intransigence of the Senate has doomed both you and Rome. Again I ask, have you any last words?"
My last words. Maybe the last words of Rome. He wished his voice was deep like his enemy's.
"What I have done, I have done for the glory of Rome, for the honor of my family, AND FOR THE LOVE OF KIMORA POSSIBILLIS!"
The Gauls took up the cry. "FOR LOVE! FOR LOVE! FOR LOVE!"
Hannibal nodded. "Well spoken. Drakko, Eddorix, proceed."
They stepped up to Ronicus. Quickly they removed his armor and cloak. Eddorix ran them up to the pavilion. Hannibal lifted them to show the host.
"The panoply of Ronicus goes to the man who fights most bravely today!"
The ground shook as thousands of men vowed that they would win the prize. Ronicus was stunned. The joke of Lucius Quinctus Cincinatus High School, a hero of the Carthaginian army. The gods must be crazy.
Now the men to the north parted, and he could see what was in store for him.
"Oh. Man! That is just sick and wrong! It's wrongsick, wrongsick!"
Four stakes were driven flush into the ground. The leather straps waited to hold him to the earth. Some hundred yards away a dozen elephants waited for the order to advance.
"I told you." Drakken muttered as he and Eddorix led Ronicus over. "Barbaric, utterly barbaric!"
They tied him to the earth without another word. Ronicus took a deep breath. Now would come…
Trumpets? Roman trumpets?
SPQR
Kim urged the team onward. They were late, the sun was well on the way to rising. We were wrong on how much the extra equipment would slow the chariots down. Minerva, please, don't let us be too late. No drums yet, there's still time.
"Warrior!" Barcus had been careful to not use her real name, even if no one could hear them. "Save some of the team's strength! We don't know what we're facing; we don't need a winded team."
She eased off a little, but not much. "Are you ready, Centurion?"
"Ready to go. The other chariots signal 'all set'!
Kim glanced over her shoulder. Monique's team was behind her to the right, Bonillia was on the left. The remaining chariots lined up behind them. Twenty-two chariots, not by themselves a challenge to Hannibal's army, but then with Wadeamedes involved, twenty-two should be just enough.
SPQR
Shegovia was looking to the east. "There! She's coming!"
Hannibal gave her a smirk. She rolled her eyes. "All right, he's coming. A guy, male, dude. Someone who doesn't have to sit down to…"
"Himlico! First response!"
A group of men emerged from the ranks of Libyans. They wore no armor nor carried any sword or spear. Reaching into their tunics, they pulled out their slings, the long ones for long range sniping.
"Balearic slingers! We'll see if your Wadeamedes is as good as you say."
The men twirled their slings and let fly. Shot struck off the chariot, bounced off Barcus's shield. One struck dangerously close to Kim's eyes. Barcus picked it up, it had an inscription.
"To sir, sans amor. At least they're trying to use Latin."
The horses ran on. The bronze head pieces rendered the sensitive faces immune to shot. Leather covered their bodies. Even the lower legs were protected by heavy linen skirts. The lead slinger turned to the pavilion, Himilco acknowledged his message.
"The stones are ineffective, General."
"Marharbal! Second response!"
The lean commander of Hannibal's Numidian cavalry vaulted over the side of the pavilion onto a waiting mount. Fifty horsemen, the very elite of the army, followed him as he made for the approaching chariots.
"Bread and Circuses! Numidians!' Barcus shouted. "We'll be torn apart!"
"The trumpet! Barcus! Sound the trumpet!"
Barcus sounded the call. Kim looked to a copse of trees. Barcus's trumpet was answered with a shout.
"Great is Diana of Ephesus!"
Dorcas Directoria led the Hunt of Diana out of the trees. Thirty priestesses rode behind her. The slingers had already withdrawn, so they aimed their bows at the approaching Numidians.
Marharbal almost lazily ducked the arrow. His eyes gleamed as he pointed his javelin at Directoria. The Numidians followed their leader into a swirling combat; the finest horsemen in the Mediterranean faced off against the world's best horsewomen. It was as beautiful as it was dreadful.
"Two down." Shegovia observed. "She's brave and romantic, but so far not that suicidal."
"Mago! Third response!"
The brother bowed and jumped over the side. The Libyans on the outside of the formation wheeled around, lowered their pikes. They were only four deep; a quarter of their usual formation, but no chariot charge had ever broken a phalanx.
"They're getting close. Time to finish the hero."
Hannibal shook his head. "Not yet, Shegovia. Let them get a little closer. Thinking they have a chance will make the Masked Warrior reckless in the effort to save his friend."
"Or knowing she's too late will send her into despair." Shegovia watched as the distance between the chariots and the Libyans narrowed. "Trust me on this, I do have the better depth perception."
With a sigh Hannibal nodded his head. He looked to the lead mahout, raised his hand, and let it fall. The drums began.
Kim urged the horses on. The pikes were coming up rapidly. "Ready, Barcus?"
"Ready, Warrior!"
"NOW!"
Kim swung the chariot to the right. Barcus pivoted the scorpio on its mount, placed the shot in position. There was a shudder as the powerful bow released.
The shot flew over the Libyans, who smirked as the chariots veered off without a challenge. All of them were shooting overhead, harmlessly, uselessly.
Ronicus could see the elephants approach. He gritted his teeth and looked away. Then something crashed beside him. It was a ceramic globe, it shattered, exposing straw and soft wool. Something stirred.
"Ruffio!"
The little mouse shook his head. He ran over to Ronicus and gave his cheek a hug. Returning to the straw, he picked up a tiny helmet that he placed on his head. Next he drew a small sword. There were other mice moving out of the globe.
Ruffio pointed at the nearing elephants. He gave a shout.
"Vivant Respublica!"
The mice charged. Others joined them from the other globes. The field was now teeming with white, gray and brown defenders of Ronicus.
The first elephant saw Ruffio. Her eyes bulged, she stomped the ground in alarm. The mahout tried to goad her on to the man on the ground. He was too harsh, she grabbed him with her trunk and cast him aside. She turned into the crowd.
Other elephants panicked as well. Ronicus was forgotten as they scattered, avoiding the rodent covered field of execution. Gauls ran into Libyans as they fled. The Libyans looked over their shoulders to see gray doom thundering down upon them. No one had to tell them to scatter.
Hannibal looked in alarm at the chaos. He glanced at Shegovia, who nodded and left.
"Fourth response!"
Ronicus could see four Carthaginian swordsmen take up positions around him. MW, they must be waiting on MW.
SPQR
"Take the reins, Barcus, I'm going in!"
The army was running in every direction as the elephants rampaged. One crashed into the great new war machine of Archimedes. She bellowed in anger. A sister joined her, they pushed on a corner. The machine tilted, catching the sunlight full on for the first time. A blinding ray struck the wall beside the Western Gate, the stones blackened instantly. It then crashed: the work of the genius of Syracuse splintered into a billion useless pieces.
"Keep them running, Barcus!"
"A pleasure, Warrior!" Barcus still had the trumpet. He called a charge while Kim jumped down with her spear and ran for Ronicus.
Libyans, Iberians and Gauls ran past her without a challenge. Then she saw four heavily armored swordsmen turn to face her. All she needed to see was the familiar blond headed boy staked to the earth.
She planted the butt of her spear into the ground and vaulted into the first attacker. Both feet struck his chest. He flew back and crashed into another man. A third looked at the spectacle; she brought her sandal up under his mail skirt. No armor there. The last man stepped back and left himself exposed to a blinding sweep of the spear. His sword went flying, and he ran.
Ronicus saw two men crash beside him. Soon the Masked Warrior was kneeling beside him, his eyes wide. He grabbed Ronicus by the shoulders, and brought the mask to his face!
"MW! What's going on?!
"Just, checking to see if you were all right." Kim reached behind her back and pulled the retractable dagger out. The bonds fell away, and she helped her love to his feet. For a moment they stood looking at each other, arms clasped in friendship.
Ronicus suddenly stepped back in alarm. "It's not what you think!"
Shegovia stood a few yard behind Kim. "Oh, it's exactly what I think." She laughed. "You're the one who's clueless."
A blinding flash of green passed before Kim, stuck Ronicus full in the chest. He flew backward and lay motionless on the ground. The upper part of his tunic was gone. His chest smoldered.
"Oh, I forgot, he wasn't wearing armor." Shegovia said with mock concern. "I'll explain it all to him when he wakes up. If he wakes up."
Kim was seeing red. "You'll never tell anyone anything again."
She put her foot on her spear. A quick pull back brought it off the ground and onto her foot. She kicked it up into her hands. With a cry she charged.
Shegovia crouched and smiled, daggers drawn and glowing. Waiting until the last moment, she stepped aside as Kim surged past. She flipped her right dagger from over-handed to under-handed, ready to stab up under the back plate of the cuirass, and into the kidneys.
But Kim also stopped at the last moment. A pivot brought her spear staff across the witch's back. She then did a complete spin, and the staff crashed into Shegovia's stomach. She doubled over. A desperate slash with a dagger slipped under the leather epaulet guarding Kim's right shoulder. It was a shallow gash, but it bled freely.
The two women stood toe to toe, screaming hate at each other as daggers and spear flashed in deadly arcs. Kim brought her spear behind Shegovia's legs, pulled forward. Shegovia's feet flew out from under her. Instantly she brought her hands over her head and began to spring up. Kim's spear shaft stuck her jaw with a resounding thwack! The witch's eyes rolled up into her head, and she fell back unconscious.
Kim stood over Shegovia. She shifted her grip, and brought the spear up over her head.
"For Ronicus!"
Then the earth and sky switched places. Something had her, shook her like a rag doll. She was then slammed to the ground with stunning force. An irresistible weight settled on her chest. Her helmet was twisted on her head. The left eye could see nothing, the right could see only a little for the askew view port and hair.
There was the clink of a figure in armor. A flash of purple passed her small field of vision. Someone pulled off her vambraces.
An even baritone observed. "They say you have tricks up your sleeves. While I may admire that, I cannot afford to fall for them, or to them."
Hands touched her helmet. She was too stunned to respond. Even though she realized the meaning of the man's next words.
"Shegovia assures me that I but order Surus 'down' and the war is won. But first I must see the face of the one who has fought me so long and so well. And I will have a name. I have given funerals for generals and consuls. Yours will be the grandest of all. Rome itself will be your pyre!"
Notes
Scorpio—not the sign, duhus, a small model of the ballista.
Archimedes's Sun Stealer--The man did have cranes capable of picking up and upsetting warships, the stories of metal mirrors setting ships afire appear to be a later invention. This, and his use of a new and secret reflective material, is of course fictional. Besides, KP without a Death Ray?
Vivant Respublica!—Long live the Republic!