Raptor (121 page)

When the work first began, those same four city fathers went to see what was going on. But I noticed that they did not look any more worried than they had done when they had conversed with Theodoric. I could only assume that they must know the treasury’s floor to be as impenetrable as its walls and roof, so they felt no anxiety about our being able to dig up through it—if that was what Theodoric planned to do.

“How deep do you want the hole, Theodoric?” Freidereikhs asked on the fifth or sixth day of digging. “It is now about a quarter of a stade deep and broad, and we are beginning to have a hard time finding stout wood for the props.”

“That size should do it,” Theodoric said. “Now send men about the city to collect all the olive oil they can find.”

“Olive oil?”

“Drench the timbers with it. Then set them afire. And withdraw your men to a safe distance from the bluff.”

“Ah-h-h,” breathed Freidereikhs, as comprehension dawned on his face—on mine too, probably—and he hurried away.

At least partial comprehension dawned also on the Siscians when smoke began to billow up and out of the diggings. The four city fathers came scuttling to Theodoric, no longer looking smug, but exceedingly distraught.

“Do you intend to roast all our young people inside a stone oven?” whimpered one of them. “The guards and the other men who might fight—that would be allowable by the rules of war. But wives, niu? Maidens? Children?”

Theodoric said, “We did not set the fires to roast anybody. Likely they will sweat a bit before the props burn through. But then the corner of the building will collapse of its own weight, and—”

“Oh vái, worse yet!” The old men wrung their hands. “The only decent building still standing in what was once our glorious Siscia! Even Attila left us that one. Please, mighty conqueror, damp the fires. We will open the treasury doors for you. Let us but go close enough. There is a secret signal we can make to the guards within.”

“I rather supposed there would be,” Theodoric said drily. “But I gave you your chance. And I do not so readily go back on
my
word. Our men have been put to hard labor by your stubbornness. I shall see that they get their reward. Those wives and maidens and children may wish they
had
been roasted.”

The old men cried
akh!
and
vái!
and other expressions of dismay. But then they consulted together, and one of them said, “Spare us the building, and we willingly surrender everything and everybody inside it.”

Theodoric gave them a long, sour look. “I assume you four are only the city fathers, not the fathers or other kin of any of the persons involved. You certainly do look after your city at the expense of its citizens. But what have you to bargain with? What can you surrender that I am not already taking?”

“Then simply grant us mercy! The treasury building is all that makes Siscia merit being
called
a city.”

“That is true. And I too have some regard for the city. When the Western Empire is mine, so will Siscia be. I ought not despoil my own property. Very well, I accept your offer. The shell survives, the nutmeats are ours. Go and give the signal.”

As they went, under guard, Theodoric beckoned to a messenger. “Tell King Freidereikhs to have the treasury surrounded. When the doors open, he is to snuff his fires, and he is to let the grown men emerge unharmed from that building. Then, as promised, his warriors may do as they like with all the other persons.”

Saio Soas grumbled, “I approve of your sparing the building, Theodoric. But those four old men, first crowing, then crawling—I hate to see you spare them.”

“I do not intend to. Give the command, Soas, that all the people of Siscia are to turn out and witness what happens when the building is opened. Afterward, you make an announcement. Tell the citizens how the orgy was the doing of their own city fathers. I daresay the city’s
other
fathers and husbands and brothers will give the old men the chastisement they deserve. Probably a far more dreadful requital than anything we could devise.”

When we moved on, resupplied by the provisions from Siscia’s treasury building, we went only about fifty miles upriver before meeting another impediment in our way. This time it was an army of cone-helmeted, scale-armored Sarmatae and Scyrri, not skulking in ambush but drawn up in line of battle and forthrightly waiting to be discovered by our farthest vanguard outriders. I say it was an army only because it numbered perhaps four or five thousand horsemen. Actually it was an aggregation of the warriors from many different nomad Sarmatian and Scyrrian tribes, including the veterans and survivors of several previous defeats by the Ostrogoths—by Theodoric at Singidunum, by Theodoric’s father and uncle before that. These people had two motives for moving against us. Having been so often defeated and fragmented, hence compelled to a wretched nomad existence, they now hoped—as the Gepids’ ill-fated King Thrausila had hoped—to delay our advance on Venetia and thereby to win from a grateful Odoacer some grant of domain and recognition of them as something better than nomads. Also, since so many of the warriors were still smarting from past overthrows, they frankly yearned for revenge on all Ostrogoths.

However, they stood little chance of wreaking vengeance, and even smaller chance than King Thrausila had had of causing us serious damage or delay. Thrausila at least had been sole king and commander of a unified Gepid soldiery. These several petty tribal leaders, as we would soon realize, had jealously refused to cede overall military authority to any one of themselves. Their gathered troops had done no practicing of integrated battle tactics. What faced us was only an unorganized gang, brave enough and bellicose, but incapable of acting as a concerted force. That was made evident by our first skirmish with them.

When our foremost columns arrived at the nearer edge of the field where the enemy were ranked at the farther edge, about three stadia distant, our troops immediately began to spread out left and right, to form a similar line of preparedness for battle. The opponents sat their horses, waiting—as is the courteous battlefield custom—while more and more of our troops arrived and took their assigned preliminary places. Our two kings and highest officers, I among them, rode to a little rise of ground to study the situation. After a brief appraisal, Theodoric ordered that a single turma of our cavalry be dispatched to make a glancing feint at the enemy’s front, just to judge the readiness and temper of those lines. Had the opposing horsemen been properly drilled and commanded, they would simply have stood stolid while raising their shields and lowering their spearpoints, like a hedgehog unconcernedly curling up and bristling its quills. But they did not; a score of them broke ranks to dash out toward our skirmishers, who of course instantly veered away and galloped back toward our side of the field.

“Look at that,” Pitzias growled in disdain. “Overeager and undisciplined. They lunged before our men had ridden within even
cursing
range.”

“What fools!” Freidereikhs exclaimed happily. “Theodoric, I know you will withhold further engagement until you have all your horse and foot arranged to your satisfaction. In the meantime, let me lead my Rugii all the way around to the enemy’s rear, and—”

“Hush, boy, and learn something,” Theodoric said gruffly, but not unkindly. Then he turned his back on the younger king, to give orders to Pitzias, Ibba and Herduic, directing them to position their centuries and cohorts and turmae here, there and yonder. Freidereikhs could barely contain his impatience, and his horse danced to be off, while the generals one after another saluted and departed. Finally Theodoric turned again to the lad.

“Let me explain to you what I am doing, and why, so that—”

“But I
already
understand, Theodoric!” the boy interrupted, and excitedly gushed a torrent of words. “As soon as the generals have massed and deployed and instructed their troops, and begun to advance, you will have the main assault made by Ibba’s cavalry, riding in what is called the swine-array—the triangular formation originated by the great god Wotan when, in ancient times, he came down to earth to amuse himself for a while by being Jalk the Giant-Killer, and happened to notice how a herd of wild pigs, galloping through a forest in that form of a point-first triangle, swept every other animal helplessly before them.” The boy had to pause to gulp for air, then went on in another rush of words, “You are also placing forces to protect the flanks of Ibba’s cavalry, and other forces to deflect any counterattack, and still other forces to abide in reserve, and of course diversionary forces to harry the enemy and distract them from the cavalry’s swine-array assault.” Again he ran out of breath, then grinned and concluded, “There! Have I not accurately described your disposition of forces?”

“You have not,” Theodoric said bluntly, and the boy’s face fell. “The cavalry in swine-array, ja, but
they
will be the diversionary force, not the main attack.”

“What? Why?”

“Because the swine-array’s traditional employment is attack, so the enemy will suppose our cavalry to be doing precisely that. You see, I try never to do the expected thing—except, of course, when I think my foes may be expecting me to do the unexpected. In this case, I think they are not. Therefore, while they move to defend against and repel Ibba’s cavalry, I shall attack instead with Herduic’s infantry.”

“With
foot
soldiers?”

“Observe, young king. The enemy forces consist entirely of mounted men, but they made an unwise choice of field on which to make their stand. The ground here is rough and rocky, much better suited to fighting on foot than on horseback. Observe also, young king, the sky and the weather and the time of day.”

Theodoric waited, so Freidereikhs said, “Midafternoon. Bright sunshine. A westerly breeze.”

“Observing which, I seize two other small advantages. I send Herduic and his men to attack from the west, so the afternoon sun will be shining into the enemy’s eyes, and the dust scuffed up by the attackers’ running feet will be blowing into the enemy’s eyes.”

Freidereikhs murmured admiringly, “Ja, I see. Very clever, very practical. Thags izvis, Theodoric, I
have
learned a few things here. But now—for my men’s part, since yours will be facing and flanking the enemy—let me take my Rugii around to their rear to complete the surrounding.”

“I do not want them surrounded.”

Freidereikhs looked mystified. “What? Whyever not? We could crush them utterly.”

“At an exorbitant and unnecessary price. Learn one more thing, young warrior. Except in a settled and lengthy siege,
never
entirely surround your enemy. If he is trapped, he will fight fiercely, to the last man, costing many of your own. If he is left an avenue of escape, he will flee the slaughter. I wish only to clear these nuisances out of our way, with as little of our blood spilled as possible.”

In some frustration, Freidereikhs wailed, “Where
can
I fight, then?”

“Akh, I would not deny good warriors a good battle, and I do not at all mind shedding the
enemy’s
blood. Take your Rugii to their rear, as you proposed, and line their avenue of escape. When they flee, let them flee, but scourge them as they go. Ravage them, terrify them, scatter them. Make sure they do not regroup to turn on us again. Go! Enjoy yourself!”

“Habái ita swe!” cried Freidereikhs, and he was gone.

I need not recount the battle in detail, because it went just as Theodoric had planned and foreseen, and it was over before sundown. When the two armies came together, most of our mounted warriors, including Theodoric and myself, pressed the enemy’s front and eastern flank, while Ibba’s swine-array charged into them point-first. Then, in amongst the milling horsemen, Herduic’s foot soldiers swarmed like a multitude of ants infiltrating a brawl of beetles. They arrived almost unnoticed, out of the sun and the dust. And the foemen on horseback, towering above them—hacking, slashing, bellowing war cries—were at first almost heedless of them as they nimbly scurried about, unobtrusively putting their swords into horses’ bellies, cutting saddle girths, slicing the hamstrings of horses and unwary riders, quietly dispatching the unhorsed who fell among them. By the time the enemy realized that they were literally being undercut from beneath, there was little they could do about it. The sheer weight of our numbers was jamming them together, the vigor of our spear and sword work was forcing them to go on fighting at horse level, so they could not bend and lean to swipe at their ground-level tormentors. A good many of our infantrymen were getting trampled and crushed, but few were dying by the blade.

The enemy, finally noticing that they were being pressed from front, sides and underneath—but not from the rear—began to make for that avenue of escape Theodoric had provided. For a time they backed and sidled away from us, still wielding their blades as they went, but then a few of them, then more of them, then increasing numbers of them turned their horses and let the steeds gallop headlong. And as the enemy fled, they had to run the gantlet of Rugii planted along their way, so their retreat was not at all orderly, but became a disorganized and panicky rout.

When the fighting was all over, there were more than two thousand men lying on the ground, most of them Sarmatae and Scyrri, and most of them were lying still. Theodoric was not going to take prisoners or to waste the time and medical skill of his lekjos in treating the enemy wounded, so our foot soldiers continued their efficient dispatching of those fallen foemen still alive. And our army stayed in that place only long enough to dig proper graves for our own slain. Freidereikhs, in making his long ride around to the rear of the battlefield, had come upon a village on the way. It was smaller than its name—Andautonia—having a population of only about a hundred. But Freidereikhs conscripted all its able-bodied men and women, herded them onto the blood-soaked field and commanded them—however long it might take—to do the burying of the dead Sarmatae and Scyrri, or to do whatever other mode of corpse disposal they might contrive, so our army could go on without further delay.