growing up in his tribe. To be different was to be an outcast, and, if they did permit you to live, you always caught all the shitty detail work in the tribe. Yes, he was the one!
Casca told his men to move the three others out of earshot but, he added, to keep them in a position to see all that went on.
He took the man and stood with him, scanning the figure of the shorter man. His skin was leatherlike, the nose sunken, the head fat and ugly. Even among his race, people notorious for ugliness, this one would be considered homely in the extreme. He was so wretched that Casca almost laughed aloud. The man looked like he'd been beaten with a wet squirrel or perhaps an ugly stick. He was reminded then of a joke he'd heard from a sailor in Byzantium some years before. The seaman had asked him if he knew the meaning of 'badger ugly.' The answer had been that when a man wakes up with a bad hangover and a strange woman is lying beside him with her head on his arm, then she rolls over and he gets a good look at her face-rather than take a chance on waking her up, he chews his arm off. That's badger ugly.
Casca wondered what the wife and children ofthis man looked like, if he had any. Well, back to business.
He talked to the Hun, trying a couple of dialects before eliciting any response. Casca had the man's hands untied. As soon as they were free, he reached for Casca's throat, only to have his hand trapped by a scarred hand at his wrist.
Slowly, Casca applied pressure, increasing the force steadily. He could feel the bones starting to give before he lightened his grip and could tell by the look on the Hun's face that he was impressed. The Huns respected strength in any form and Casca's grip had left his hand numb except for a distant tingling.
He spat in the face of his captor. Casca wiped the thick drool from his cheek and smiled gently. 'As you will, as you will.'
He removed his small eating knife from his belt and fingered its razor thin edge.
I know you are a brave and tough warrior but now I am interested in seeing how well you'll perform as a eunuch.'
The Hun's eyes rolled wildly. To be tortured or to die he had expected, but to have his manhood cut off scared the living shit out of him. Casca continued:
'After I remove your jewels I am going to eat them.' He slid the thin blade across the man's cheekbone, slicing the skin minutely, leaving only a red line leaking through the dirty covering of his hide. Casca knew he was getting to the man, from the barely controllable shaking in the Hun's legs, now beginning to run up to his shoulders.
'Then, my nasty little friend, I am going to turnyou over to some of my men who have no taste at all. They will screw anything, even you. This they will do in front of your comrades. Then, after they have used you, I am going to have you separated from all your parts. First your hands, then your arms, feet and legs. One joint at a time, and each cut will be sealed with a red hot iron after it is severed, so you won't die too fast. After that, all your limbs will be taken and buried in different parts of the country so your spirit cannot be joined in the afterlife. Your soul will never find its way to your ancestors and it will roam the earth forever.'
Casca felt a twinge somewhere inside him at the words, 'roam the earth forever.'
The Hun was beginning to break. He had no doubt that the scar-faced man would do exactly as he'd said. Casca watched him, knowing he was weakening.
'I know you. You are not really one with your brothers. They have never accepted you and you have been the butt of their jokes and laughter too many times.'
From the Hun's expression, he knew he had struck home, correct in his analysis.
'What good will it do you to suffer for them? They will not sing your praises by their campfires. Your name will not be told in songs of bravery. No! You are going to die most horribly for nothing, or.. 'He paused for effect and to give him time to think a bit.
'Or, you can go away from here a rich man. Those over there,' he pointed to the other three who were now giving his man some very dirty looks, 'those three will never leave this camp alive. They will be unable to say anything to anyone, and I will do to them what I told you I would do to you. Their spirits will not survive to harm you.'
Casca removed his purse at his waist and held it before the Hun, shaking the bag. The sound of gold coins clinking was clear and loud. He hefted the bag. 'Here, my little man, is life for you. Life! With this, you can buy any woman you desire. Here is more than you could ever receive from the sacking of the city as your part. You know that your Toumans will take it all for themselves, leaving you only scraps or leftovers. Why not take this now, and live? I only want you to tell me a few things that I shall find out later anyway.'
The Hun licked his lips, torn between dread fear and avid greed. The tinkling of the gold had also reached the ears of his comrades. They didn't care for him anyway and now assumed that he had made a deal with the Persian commander. One of them looked straight at him and spat on the ground, thinking you could not trust one with the white eye, it was unlucky and a bad sign.
Casca's prisoner made up his mind when the other had spit in his direction. Now, for the first time, he spoke, his voice low and reedy.
'You will do as you promised and kill them? And I can have the gold and go free?'
Casca affirmed his agreement. 'That is so.' The small Hun licked his lips again, this time in pleasure.
'Then do it now. I must see them dead before I talk.' Casca had not expected this, but a deal was a deal, and the Huns would have to be executed later anyway. He carried no prisoners on this mission. He gave the order and swords flashed, taking the heads from the three Huns, leaving the torsosto roll on the ground, hitting the dirt before the bodies knew they were dead. His man spoke again.
'The rest, do the rest. I must be sure that their spirits will not come after me.'
Casca gave the word and the bodies were dismembered as he'd promised.
'It is done, now keep your end of the bargain or receive that which I promised you.'
The Hun needed no further encouragement. He talked freely, telling Casca of the thousands of old men, women, and children that were to be sent to the walls of Kushan this very day. He, too, answered Casca's every question about the Hun forces and told him of their leader, Boguda. Casca had a feeling that he wouldn't like the man Boguda very much and hoped they would have a chance to face one another during the battle. Any Hun who could figure out a plan like the use of the captives against the wall was too dangerous to leave running freely around the countryside.
He questioned the Hun about his leader's appearance and what standard he rode under. Once the questioning was terminated, he handed the Hun the gold. Now that his deed was done, the Hun was as friendly as a puppy. He bowed and grinned at Casca, baring uneven ground-down teeth and foul-smelling gums.
'My horse, Lord. Can I have my horse now?' Casca shook his head. 'I said nothing about a horse. If you want to go you will have to walk.'
The Hun started to protest but was stopped by a back hand to his mouth. Casca turned him over to his soldiers and issued his orders.
'Take him to the edge of the camp and release him. He is not to be harmed. Make sure he headsin the opposite direction of the city.'
Casca had kept his word, doing all he'd told the man he would do. But he knew that the man's being on foot was as good as a death warrant. Anyone who found him would kill him on the spot, taking what riches he had. With his twisted legs he could not cover much ground and it would not be long, Casca knew, before some Mongol or Tartar thief, or even a hungry nomad of the desert would find him and do him in. If the Kushanites found him, may his god help him.
Casca didn't like what he had had to order, but war was hell. Where had he heard that line before?
He called his officers together, telling them of the Hunnish plan.
'We ride now. Leave our baggage behind, without guards, we'll need every man and, if we fail, it won't matter who has the baggage trains. We damned sure won't need it. The infantry is to ride double with the cavalry. Have your men take turns with them so the horses won't be exhausted when we need them most. Now go to your men, we ride like hell.'
Urgency rode with them now. They moved in battle formation, flankers out. They must hurry, but still must spare their mounts.
When the scouts came back in to report, they said that they had spotted the main Hun force less than three
