The Storm of Heaven (44 page)

"My lord," the man said, dark eyes glancing around in interest at the heavily armored Companions. The scouts spent their time at the fringes of the army, snooping and spying; he may not have seen the heavy horse in full gear before. "A great force of Gepids has crossed the river a mile or more ahead. I don't think they saw us, as we advanced in light order as you have directed. There were many clan banners among them."

"How many?"

The man squinted, counting from a mental image in his mind. Alexandros waited patiently, feeling the cold wind eddy around him. The Goths loved the weather, which had turned chilly. High summer on the Pannonian plain was not that of the balmy coast of Greece. This morning, with frost on the leaves, it had seemed an excellent day for a road march.

"Almost three thousand, I would say."

Alexandros snorted in surprise. "This is a raid, not an invasion?"

Ermanerich nodded. "Yes," he said. "The Gepids are a numerous people, though they are cowed servants now... Were there any Draculis banners amongst them?"

The scout nodded, the edge taken off his excitement. He raised two fingers. "I saw two of the red dragons."

Alexandros grinned, looking around at the faces of his companions. They were still eager for the fight, but now a tiny sense of fear pricked them.

"Two
lamia
then, these ghost knights of theirs?"

"Yes," the scout said, blanching a little at the prospect. "At least. We saw none, keeping back and out of sight... but where the red dragon flies, the nightwalkers ride."

"Good. How lies the land between here and there?"

The scout turned, standing up in his stirrups, and pointed down the meadow. "The river is ahead, through scattered stands of pine and oak, to the left. The land drops away sharply, making a moraine between this track and the water. When we saw them, they had come up out of the flats and were gathering on some open land about a mile away. There are thicker trees between here and there, but also some meadows."

Alexandros nodded and considered the warriors under his command. As he had expected, many men had answered his call to form a Gothic legion. Theodoric's ministers had kept a careful watch, turning away men who already held a debt or obligation. In effect, this denied him nearly every experienced warrior in the Gothic
feodorate
. Ermanerich grumbled about this, but it didn't bother Alexandros. His recruits were exactly what he wanted; younger sons who didn't want to clear new land, men who made their living only from war, the restless, the dispossessed. There were even Gepids and Bulgars who had crossed into Gothica in search of a new warlord. His men were eager, if not overly experienced. It made his task easier.

In an attempt to dilute possible opposition in the King's court, Alexandros had asked Lady Theodelinda to take charge of the effort to house, arm and outfit his men. Nearly six thousand strapping young lads ate a great deal, drank even more and had to sleep under some kind of shelter, even in summer. After demurring for a week, apparently for the sake of appearances, the lady had accepted his offer and set about the task with great energy.

She already owned a number of textile mills, ironworks and
fabricae
both within the Empire and in Magna Gothica. Her contacts amongst the merchants throughout the region were substantial. Alexandros expected her to find the armaments, goods and drayage he needed as quickly as anyone. He hoped that her familial connection with the king and his brother would keep her from taking a debilitating cut of the coin being poured into the effort. The extent of his aunt's effort and the breadth of her ability had dumbfounded Ermanerich.

Alexandros was not surprised. His time in Rome had not been wasted in idleness. He had spoken to many men, read every book he could lay his hands on, and gained a reasonable knowledge of recent Imperial history. A number of evenings in the company of Gregorius Auricus had provided quite a bit of juicy gossip. Even before he had met her personally, Alexandros had drawn Theodelinda's measure. Thirty years before, during a time of particular crisis in the Empire, she had been queen of a short-lived Lombard kingdom in northern Italia. Her realm had been destroyed in a bitter struggle with Rome, but the Queen had survived and accepted a new life within the Empire.

At her suggestion, Alexandros' men were billeted in the frontier town of Aquincum. The town stood at the northern edge of Gothica, beside the swift-flowing Danuvius. Theodoric maintained a strong garrison there, now reinforced by Alexandros and his men. Beyond the dark river, there were only barbarians and wilderness. Theodelinda thought the new levies should earn their keep. Alexandros didn't mind. If a Roman magistrate came by, then their presence would be easy to explain.

"Krythos, return to the vanguard and see that I receive regular reports as the enemy moves. Tell your commander to show the Gepids someone to chase, then fall back to meet us. There's no need to try and slow the enemy down."

The scout nodded sharply, heeled his horse around and trotted off. Alexandros gestured for Ermanerich and the other Companions to close up around him. "You have told me that these Gepids will fight in a mass of infantry around a few heavily armored nobles. Spears, swords, throwing axes. A mad, headlong rush into the enemy line. Yes?"

The Goths nodded in agreement.

"Very well." Alexandros felt a particular calm settle over him, even as it had done in his breathing life. "Clear the Companions from the track. Let the
hoplites
advance past the horsemen and stand at arms in the first big clearing that we come so. Ermanerich, you will go with them and see that they are fully arrayed in five ranks, but with their spears grounded."

The Macedonian had divided his six thousand men into three main groups. For his own ease, and to accommodate Ermanerich's romantic fantasy, he had named them as his old army had been arranged. The Companions fought from horseback, as well armed and armored as funds and equipment allowed. Their main weapon was the Sarmatian
kontos
, a flexible lance. Coupled with the stability afforded by their stirrups, they could deliver a fierce, sudden blow. These men were also armed with cavalry swords and heavy spiked maces.

The second division was composed of his Peltasts, who also rode into battle, but would dismount to fight until they were able to use their primary weapon, the Hunnic bow, from horseback. A few of them, even in the short month of training, were able to do so. Most, however, had to stand to be accurate. Luckily, nearly every man was able to sight and shoot a bow. Getting them used to using a horse bow from the saddle would take a long time. Until then, Alexandros had no qualms about letting them fight on foot. Accuracy would come with practice, and in the meantime, they would rely on volume rather than precision.

The bulk of his forces, at least at present, were
hoplites
, who walked to battle and would fight on foot. When sufficient horses were acquired, they would ride as well, at least on the march. The Macedonian had fond hopes of fielding a completely mounted army. Forage would be a limiting factor, but it seemed likely that any immediate campaign would be within the Empire, where local magistrates and governors could provide supplies. The
hoplites
wielded the
sarissa
, an eighteen-foot pike. They also carried the Roman stabbing sword and round shields slung over their backs.

"Ermanerich, remember to keep the men from moving once they are in position. When the Gepids appear, as I'm sure they will, all they are to do is take up 'at guard' with their
sarissa
and then hold ranks. Do not attempt to move against the enemy or to maneuver!"

The Gothic prince nodded in agreement. Learning to move in unison, without fouling the long spears, was going to take a lot more work. The last two attempts to march in ordered ranks had ended with a huge jumble of
sarissa
and crushed bodies after the men had failed to keep their ranks and pikes straight. The
hystrix
formation started with the men lined up in a honeycomb,
sarissa
laid out on the ground in line. When the signal was given, each man had only to bring his pike up at an angle. It was very simple.

Alexandros hoped they could manage it today without becoming completely disordered. "The Peltasts will take the
hoplite
left wing, dismounted. When the Gepids charge, the Peltasts will loose two or three flights of arrows into the enemy, then hold the flank with sword and shield. Chlothar, you will lead the left wing."

Chlothar was an expatriate Alexandros had tapped to command. He was an enormous blond man. The others said he was a Frank, out of the western reaches of Germania. Though he was not a Goth, he was so unflappable and calm in battle that Alexandros had made him Ermanerich's second.

"The rest of you are with me," Alexandros shouted, harsh voice carrying in the cold air. "We will take the right flank and wait for the enemy to commit themselves. Then we will level
kontos
and charge on my command."

The Macedonian slapped his horse, a fiery bay stallion, and trotted off among the thin pines. With care, his horse could make reasonable time through the avenues of the forest, leaving the muddy track to the infantry. Behind him, the Companions sorted themselves out and filed forward, pale sunlight glinting from their helms and shields.

"Damn that boy!"

Alexandros gritted his teeth against two equally fierce emotions. The first was respect for the bravery of the Gepids. At least two thousand of the half-naked tribesmen charged across the meadow, filling the air with a wailing screech. Another thousand, wooden shields forward, bronze caps covering their heads, advanced in a huge, loose crowd around the tube-shaped banners of their chieftains.

Peltasts, afoot, with one man in five holding his mount, were drawing and loosing as fast as they could. Long, black-fletched arrows slapped across the meadow, shearing through the charging Gepids. Dozens of barbarians fell, pierced through by pile-headed arrows. The turf was already littered with bodies.

The second emotion was churning disgust. The ragged front edge of the Gepid charge was only a hundred feet from the
hoplites
and their
sarissa
were still on the ground. Alexandros twisted in the saddle, watching sickly as his Companions continued to filter out of the forest in ones and twos. The open, parklike woods had suddenly become a bramble thicket as the horsemen neared the meadow. Alexandros reached the open plain in time to see the Gepids begin their mad charge across the high green grass and hollyhocks.

"Don't fool about," he shouted helplessly at Ermanerich, who was far out of hearing. "These aren't Phillip's men!"

Some of the Gepid warriors, hair thickened with white clay, hurled axes as they sprinted forward. One flickered through the air and sank deep into the skull of one of the
hoplites
. The man died instantly, sprawling to the ground, and Alexandros could hear the
thunk
echo across the field. The other barbarians, still howling battle cries, were armed with a confusion of axes, swords, spears and javelins.

At last, with only thirty feet remaining between the armies, bucinas blatted and
hoplites
began to raise their
sarissa
. Alexandros forced himself to watch. Ermanerich acted as if this were Phillip of Macedon's phalanx, as skilled a group of men with the long pike as ever had lived. Those men, all dead these long centuries, could dance with the eighteen-foot weapons. For them, the
hystrix
was a child's game, where they could move from rest to full array in under a minute.

These Goths had not been born and bred to the phalanx. They had not fought and died, ever victorious, under the banner of Phillip for thirty years. The pikes rose up, at first in good order, then someone fouled the man next to him, knocking the ash-wood shaft into the next man's pike. The disaster washed across the face of the Gothic line with a resounding clash and clatter of jarring wood and iron. Rising pikes fell sideways, like falling trees, with each additional pike adding more weight to the cascade. The Gepids howled in delight and rushed on.

Alexandros clouted the herald at his side. His mailed fist rang on the man's helmet. "Sound attack, boy, all units advance and attack!"

The Macedonian drew his
spatha
with a flourish, spurred his horse and charged out onto the field.

"Alexandros!" A great cry went up, sending a chill through him, and hooves thundered on the soft, loamy ground. Only half of the Companions had managed to fight their way out of the forest, but they stormed forward, unlimbering their lances on the run.

The bay flew across the field, white and yellow flowers blurring past under his hooves. He ran strongly, even burdened by Alexandros' armored weight. As he rushed closer to the battle, Alexandros saw the Gepid charge smash into the disordered ranks of the
hoplites
. Many of the Goths were still trapped on the ground, crushed under the weight of their pikes, but Ermanerich had reacted quickly. The rear ranks, pikes ready, moved up.

The Gepid rush broke apart as they leapt across the struggling Goths or halted to stab and hack at the men pinned to the ground. The pikes and men made an unhappy barrier, and their attack slowed for a moment. A hideous slaughter was under way along the front of the phalanx, but the fourth and fifth ranks managed to brace against the rest of the charge. Gepids screamed, pierced by the thicket of iron. Despite two short rushes, they could not come to grips with the
hoplites
behind their long spears.

Alexandros spared a glance to either side, relieved to see that he did not charge alone into the midst of the enemy. A hundred of the Companions were at his side, lances leveled. Ahead of him, the flanks of the Gepid charge were curling out, spilling around the edges of the
hoplite
line. Even the center of the Gothic position was being forced back by the weight of the enemy. Alexandros reined in, deftly sliding out of the front rank of the charge.

The Companions, hooves thundering, banners snapping in the cold air, crashed into the Gepid flank. Many of the barbarians failed to notice the horsemen until they were ridden down or run through. Most of the Gepids were armored only with wooden, hide-faced shields. Some had shirts of iron rings sewn to a leather backing. The Companions clove into them, sending a shuddering wave through the mass of infantry. Alexandros trotted back, watching his armored knights hew into the masses of Gepid spear- and sword-men. Some of the Companions continued to stab with their
kontos
, though most had cast the weapons aside, or lost them, fouled in the bodies of the slain. This was
spatha
work, and the long swords flashed in the sun.