Raptor (122 page)

It was mid-July, and very hot, when we arrived at Aemona, the chief city of the province of Noricum Mediterraneum. That is a very old city—indeed, reputed to have been founded by the Argonaut Jason—and in spring and autumn it must be a surpassingly fair city. It occupies both banks of a clear-water Savus tributary, and its most notable feature is a single lofty hump of ground, from the top of which one gets a magnificent view of the distant Alpes Juliani and nearer mountains roundabout. However, all the rest of the city is on low land, and that is surrounded by a marshy plain that in summer exudes unwholesome miasmas and clouds of insects.

Aemona’s one high piece of ground is crowned with a fortress quite as immense and formidable as that mint-and-treasury building in Siscia. The Aemona citizens might similarly have tried to secrete and barricade in there all their valuables and possessions, but evidently some traveler preceding our slow-moving army had told them of Siscia’s failure to thwart our plundering. So Aemona let us march in unopposed and unhindered, and resignedly let us avail ourselves of what supplies and provisions and diversions it had to offer. There was a sufficiency of those—including thermae and lupanar women and wineshops and noctiluca streetwalkers—but we unearthed no great treasures of gold or jewelry or the like, because the city had been long ago sacked by our predecessor kinsman, the Visigoth Alareikhs, or Alaric, and later by Attila’s Huns, and never had won back to its former wealth and opulence.

Theodoric and Freidereikhs and their higher-ranking officers took up residence in the fortress on the high ground, and we were comfortable enough there. Our men were not so, down in the pestilential airs of the lowlands, but Theodoric was having to weigh one discomfort against another. The remainder of our journey to the Venetia border would be across similarly low ground, and he thought it better to let his army abide in encampment around Aemona than to make it slog on through the summer heat. So we loitered there for nearly a month, waiting for the torrid weather to abate. But it did not, and the morbific swamp mists began to cause illnesses and grudges and quarrels among the men. Finally, nolens volens, Theodoric had to give the order to pick up and move on.

We left the marshlands behind, which was a blessing, but the weather continued oppressively hot and humid. And if that had not been enough to make traveling miserable, we soon found ourselves in a landscape most odd and ugly. The natives who have to live there call it “karst,” and curse it, and so did we. Most of that land is bare limestone, punishing to men’s feet and horses’ hoofs. Worse, the naked rock both holds the sun’s heat and reflects it, thus being twice as hot as any other terrain. What is most odd about the karst, though, is that it is everywhere tunneled by underground rivers. In ages past, many of the caves and caverns hollowed out by those rivers have collapsed, leaving the limestone surface pocked by sinkholes—ranging from the size of a sunken amphitheater to a circumference and depth capable of containing an entire town. And over the ages those hollows have accumulated silt in their bottoms, so that is where the natives live, on miniature round or oblong farms. At the occasional such hollow, a passerby can look down into it and see the river that made it, issuing from one side and disappearing into the other, going underground again.

Thags Guth, we came at last to a normal river again, the Sontius, flowing aboveground and through a more pleasant landscape, one of real soil and greenery and flowers. So we came to it with genuine relief and gladness, even though, on the farther side of it, where begins the Italian province of Venetia, we saw waiting the massed and mighty legions of Odoacer, poised to close with us and stop us and destroy us.

It was our speculatores riding farthest forward of our army’s columns who got the first look at those forces defending the Venetia border. After discreetly scouting their front from south to north—from the Tergeste Gulf, where the river Sontius flows into the Hadriatic Sea, to the foothills of the Alpes Juliani, where the river has its source—the outriders returned to us to report. And when their optio spoke, there was some awe in his voice.

“King Theodoric, the enemy troops are of almost incalculable number. They are ranged for nearly four miles along the river’s western bank. The heaviest concentration of those troops is, of course, at the farther end of the Pons Sontii, the only bridge across that river, directly to the front of your line of march.”

“As I expected,” Theodoric said, unawed. “After all, Odoacer has had plenty of time to mass his men. What other use has he made of the time, Optio? What manner of defenses have his legions prepared against us?”

“They appear to be relying on sheer force of numbers,” said the outrider. “They have built nothing more substantial than the usual tidy Roman camps, all along the river. Orderly rows of their big butterfly sleeping tents, and among them supply sheds, horse pens, armory and smithy and cooking tents, sties and folds for the pigs and sheep they brought along to eat, all the ordinary appurtenances of military camps. But they have constructed no permanent buildings or walls or barricades.”

Theodoric nodded. “They rightly expect that this will be a fierce hand-to-hand battle. They want ease and quickness of mobility. And what of the riverside terrain, Optio?”

“From the gulf to the foothills, all level land, the same as here, with one difference on their side of the river. They have cleared the trees as far as perhaps a quarter of a mile back from the water. Whether that was to allow the laying out of their campgrounds, or for freedom of movement when the fighting begins, or simply to procure campfire wood, I could not say.”

“But on this side? The forest remains? All the way to the riverbank?”

“Ja, King Theodoric. As you say, they had plenty of time to clear that too, had they wished. Perhaps they hope the trees will hinder your disposition of your own troops.”

Theodoric nodded again. “Anything else, Optio?”

“We noted only one other thing that might be worth reporting.” He knelt to scratch with a twig in the dirt, drawing parallel lines to represent the river’s course, and a mark to show where we were. “On the higher ground to the north, they have built two signal platforms. The fires or smokes will be visible all down the river.”

“Platforms?” Theodoric asked. “Not towers?”

“Platforms, ja.” The optio drew two little rectangles at the upriver end of his diagram. “Right about there. Not very high or sturdy platforms, and not very far apart.”

“Well, well,” said Theodoric. “The old Polybian system, eh? I must ride up there, one night soon, and see them signal. Thags izvis, good Optio. And thags izei to your fellow outriders. Now—Odoacer surely had his own speculatores in these woods to watch our advance. They will have counted our number, but I would prefer that they do not see our eventual deployment. Take as many other men as you need, Optio, and go out ahead of us again. Clear away those watchers before we get to the river. Habái ita swe.”

The optio saluted, vaulted to his saddle and led his men off again. Theodoric remained kneeling by the twig-drawn sketch, and beckoned for his marshals, his generals and King Freidereikhs to join him.

“Let us start now to separate our columns and get some of them off this main trail.” Pointing here and there on the diagram, he gave each man orders to move this or that body of horsemen or foot soldiers or supply wagons to this or that position. “And, Pitzias, the detachment I am sending here”—he indicated a spot upriver on the diagram—“have them equipped with tools for felling trees and hauling the trunks to the riverside, in case I decide we need them for floating men or supplies across.” Theodoric turned last to young Freidereikhs. “You wanted once before to make use of our siege engines. You can do it here. I want them brought up and ranged—”

“Siege engines? But the outriders said there are no buildings or walls or barri—”

Theodoric interrupted, with some exasperation, “You must humor my eccentricities, young man! Perhaps I merely like to hear the twang and thump noises the engines make. What I do not like to hear is criticism of my battle plans.”

Freidereikhs, abashed, said hastily, “Ja, ja, of course. My men will make them twang and thump most mightily.”

Three or four days later, our foremost columns, Theodoric in the lead, got to the Sontius, where he held them well back from the riverside, using the forest for concealment as various portions of them veered off upstream and down. He did not even go close to the river himself to take a look at the enemy on the farther bank. He seemed totally unconcerned about that vast army over there, and gave all his attention to the positioning of our own troops, as more and more of them arrived, and to the provisions made for keeping them fed and comfortable and in good cheer. During the several subsequent days and nights, Theodoric rode north and south, inspecting our lines and giving orders or making suggestions to his subordinate officers.

Meanwhile, all the forward ranks of both armies lay within easy bow-shot of each other. The range was too great for accuracy, with the river between, but a high-arching rain of arrows could have dealt considerable harm. Our troops were only concealed by the trees and shrubbery, not much protected, and Odoacer’s troops did not have even that flimsy cover. But Theodoric sternly forbade any of our men to indulge the impulse to let fly even a single arrow, and apparently Odoacer was doing the same.

Theodoric explained his restraint when, one balmy night, he had me ride with him upriver to see where—or if—the Sontius got narrow and shallow enough to be fordable at some point.

On the way, he told me, “Because this is certain to be the most significant war I shall ever fight in my lifetime, I intend to observe the courtesy of formally declaring war before I commence it, and do so with scrupulous attention to the traditions recognized by both Romans and outlanders. When I judge the time to be right, I shall walk out upon the Pons Sontii and cry my challenge—demand that Odoacer surrender before he is defeated, that he stand out of my way to Rome, that he acknowledge me as his successor and overlord. Of course he will do no such thing. He or a lesser officer will also walk out upon the bridge and cry the refusal and defial. Thereupon we mutually declare that a state of war exists between us. Custom further requires only that he and I be allowed time to return safely to our separate sides. Then, on the instant, if we choose, we can wave our men forward to the attack.”

“How much longer, then, before you do that, Theodoric? Are you merely letting our men get a good rest after their long march? Or are you tantalizing and taunting Odoacer, after his having waited so long for our arrival, making him wait some more?”

“Neither,” said Theodoric. “And not all of our men have been resting. Some of them, you know, are former legionaries, and they wear Roman army dress. On each of the nights past, I have sent them quietly swimming across the river and, as soon as their clothes dry, mingling unobtrusively with the enemy, to see or hear what they might. I have also posted ample guards to make sure that no spies come over from that side.”

“And have ours seen or heard anything useful?”

“One thing at least. Odoacer is of course an experienced and capable campaigner, but he is old—sixty or more. I was interested to learn that he has entrusted most of his command duties to a younger man, about our own age. A man named Tufa, who is of Rugian birth.”

“Akh, then this Tufa would be familiar with all the Germanic strategies and tactics of battle. The swine-array and so on.”

“Well, so would Odoacer. He has fought enough Germanic tribes in his time. Ne, I was not so much concerned about that. I was thinking… since this General Tufa is of the same origin as our young King Freidereikhs, he might just
possibly
be susceptible to seduction by a fellow Rugian…”

“To betray his King Odoacer? To subvert the Roman defenses? Even to change sides?”

“The possibility is interesting to speculate on, but I am not counting on it.” Theodoric dropped the subject there, because we had come to the upriver body of troops prepared to do tree-cutting if necessary, and he told their commanding officer, “You might as well get them started at that, Decurio. If this river shallows anywhere at all, it would be too far north for the ford to be of much use to us. So have the men hew us a good supply of tree trunks, in case we should require them.”

The decurio went off bawling orders into the night, and a few moments later we heard the first ax blows. Almost immediately after that, Theodoric said, “Behold, Thorn,” and pointed across the river. The darkness over there was pierced by a point of light, and then a second, and then several more.

“Torches,” I said.

“The Polybian signals,” he said. “Torchbearers up on those platforms we were told about.” He dismounted from his horse. “Let us get out of these trees to where we can see better and read what they are saying.”

“I never could read even the signals of the Constantinople pháros,” I said as we sat down on the riverbank.

“The Polybian system is quite simple. With torches by night or smoke by day, it spells out words. The twenty standard letters of the Roman alphabet are divided into five groups of four. A, B, C, D and then E, F, G, H and so on. The five torches on the left-hand platform yonder tell which group. See there? One of the torches is raised for a moment above the others. And on the right-hand platform, one of the four torches is raised to tell which letter in the group.”

“Ja, I see,” I said. “On the left, the second torch is raised. On the right, the first torch. And now they are all being held level again. Now, over on the left, the first torch. On the right, the fourth.”

“Keep calling them off,” said Theodoric, who had bent down to the ground. “I am laying out twigs here, to make note of them.”

“Very well. Now, on the left, the fourth torch. On the right, the third. On the left, now, the third—and on the right the third also. Now on the left the fourth, on the right the second.”

Theodoric waited, then said, “Well?”