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bluntly. Their basic hostilityt oward him began to change to that of
professional respect. Regardless of where their new commander had come from,
it appeared that he knew his busi-ness and theirs. They would obey now without
the reluctance they d felt earlier. Their new leader was a true warrior.
The night dragged on to the early hours as each officer in turn was questioned
in detail and asked to contribute ideas that would possibly modify the
commander s basic plan. It was dawn before Casca dismissed the last of them.
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Indemeer had stayed with him throughout the interrogations, making sound
comments and judgments, familiarizing Casca with various problems each unit
had faced on their arrival, each unit s history in battle, and a thumbnail
profile of the unit leaders histories and backgrounds. When they called it a
night, both he and Casca felt they had put in a good day s work and were each
more satisfied with the other as sol-diers.
Two days and battle would be joined. Casca gave the order to break camp and
move to the val-ley of his choice. The sooner they arrived the more rested his
men would be when the time came for battle. He decided not to visit the five
thousand men sent to him by Shapur. Those he would save until just before the
engagement. He was confident now, after listening to Indemeer, that things
would be as he d said.
But still he d check on them per-sonally now and then until it was time for
them to be used.
FIVE
Casca surveyed the Persian Host. Twenty thou-sand men, one quarter of their
ranks from Shapur s own bodyguard. The Immortals, each especially selected and
trained, every man richly equipped with the finest of blades and armor made of
steel scales that rippled in the day s sunlight.
The infantry stood at ease, weapons to hand, waiting for the appearance of the
Huns. Casca had chosen this ground and gave the order to wait. They would move
no further.
By waiting here it would force the enemy to come to them, forcing them to
march through the worst heat of the day, and when they did meet, a portion of
their vitality would have been sapped by the Persian sun that baked the rocks
of this valley until they split and cracked from the constant heating and
cooling. He signaled his trumpeter, who responded with two short blasts. Five
thousand men advanced from the rear to stand in five ranks in front of the
rest of the waiting army of select troops. Now they totaled twenty-five
thousand. These men were uniformed as the others, but carried no shields or
spears; neither did they wear helmets of brass and iron.
Only the green tunics fringed with tassels identified them as members of the
same force.
Rising, Casca removed his helmet and swung up into the saddle of his waiting
horse, looking out over the five thousand. Filling his lungs, he called out to
them.
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 The King Shapur has given you this opportuni-ty to save your families from
death. You have al-ready been sentenced to die, some of you for treason,
others for robbery or murder or refusing to accept the state religion. It
matters not what your crime against the Great King was, you are all as one in
your sentence. But this day you shall be permitted to atone for those crimes
and the Great King will spare your families. They will not have to go under
the headman s ax. Let not one of you hesitate. Do as you have been ordered and
all will be well for those you leave behind. Such is the or-der of the Great
King.
Each of the five thousand raised his only weap-on, a single knife, in salute
and bowed low at the words of the Great King, Shapur.
Casca turned from them and returned to his position on the ridge to await the
Hunnish horde.
What he had just done had not been an easy thing. He wished now that he hadn t
told Shapur of the manner by which the Viscount of Wu had achieved victory
over theChu seven hundred years before with the use of three thousand men. But
he had told him and Shapur had ordered him to try to same technique in this
battle.Shapur, in his mind superior to any Chinese, had given Casca five
thou-sand instead of the three used by the Viscount.
The only consolation he could muster for theplan was that these men were
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already condemned and most of them would die this day with less pain than they
would have if left to the tender mercies of the royal headsmenwho delighted in
their own forms of experimentation. And, Casca knew, Shapur s word was law.
Their families would be spared. He had explained to Shapur that it would make
the men accept their fate more easily and the King had conceded.
The five thousand men stood waiting in five ranks across the sun-baked floor
of the valley, each tohis own thoughts and fears. They knew they had no choice
but to obey. They shuffled their feet ner-vously, the sun pounding on their
temples and backs. Many already had the look of men dead, or at least men at
peace with themselves. In their faces, Casca could see no panic. Fear, yes.
Fear of the unknown. Some of them, in a perverse manner, even seemed to be
looking forward to what the next minutes would bring.
At the far entrance to the valley the horsemen of the Hephalites began to
gather, a cloud of dust ris-ing over them as their horses milled about in
their thousands.
War drums began to beat and the Huns sang and chanted as their shaman prayed
to the elemental spirits. They whipped themselves into a fighting frenzy,
ragged and savage apparitions, theirhorses wild, red-eyed and rearing, white
streaks of foam dripping from their mouths and down their flanks. It was
rumored that the Huns often fed their horses the flesh and blood of humans.
Their Khans waited also, waited for the precise moment when their men were so
filled with the lust to kill that theycould no longer be restrained.
Now, horns blared. Under the horse-tailed stan-dards, the Huns charged against
the stationary line of the waiting Persians.
The first line of the five thousand condemned men stepped forward ten paces,
separating them-selves from the rest of the Host. They stood alone, without
shields or spears to protect them, with only their short bare blades held
above their heads, waiting for the Huns to close. Casca watched from his
vantage point, feeling a little sick to his stom-ach. He couldn t let the Huns
get too close or their own impetus would carry them through the first line.
His trumpeter stood close by. Closer and closer the Huns advanced, the bravest
of them on the fastest horses at the forefront, screaming.
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The heads of vanquished enemies hung on ropes, draped from the necks of their
foam-mouthed, red-eyed war horses. Closer, the drumming hooves came. Casca
raised his sword, holding it above his head for a moment, the midday sun
twinkling off the polished steel of its blade.
Now!He swung the blade downward and his trumpeter sounded a long single note
to echo across the sun-bleached rocks of the valley floor. At the signal, the
first rank of the condemned stepped forward two more paces and raised a single
cry to the glory of the King of Kings, Shapur, then sliced their own throats
open. In less than the beat of a heart, a thousand men cut their own throats
in front of their
Hunnish enemies and fell forward in their own blood.
The leaders of the advancing Huns slowed their charge. The horn sounded again
and another thousand stepped forward to where the first had died, raised their [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]