Final Campaign

none of their mounts being a matchfor mine. I had thrust the borrowed javelin through the saddle bandand under my right leg, the point bouncing up and down just inchesfrom my face if I leaned forward, making me recognize that this hadnot been a good idea. Reaching the corner of the fortress, I laidthe reins over Ocelus’ neck to the right, my horse veering smoothlyin a wide arc around to the northern side of the fortress. In thatinstant, my eyes took in the sight of several men lying along theroad, javelins protruding from the bodies of every one of them.They were scattered up the road heading back toward Serdica, andthe last two or three the farthest away from the walls had been hitin their lower extremities and were still alive, draggingthemselves frantically away, trying to find some cover to hidethem. Sticking out of the road and the verge on either side wereseveral javelins that had missed their targets. Most importantlythere was a horse lying on its side, its legs moving weakly, twojavelins having penetrated its body. The horse’s rider was alsolying a few feet away, also pierced through with javelins, and Irelaxed momentarily since it appeared that the threat had beencontained. However, I looked to the left back in the direction ofSerdica, letting out a string of curses, even as I heard one of themen on the wall shouting that one man on horseback had managed toescape.

“We hit him but missed the horse,” I heardthe man shout. Once again kicking Ocelus, I urged him to regain hisspeed. Up ahead of me, at least three hundred paces, I could barelysee the man, partially obscured by the dust his horse was kickingup, and I yelled into Ocelus’ ear, “There he is, boy. Run himdown!”

I have no idea if he understood me, but helay his ears flat against his head, stretching out his long,graceful neck and the increase in speed was immediate, almosttaking my breath away.

“Take care of these bastards,” I shoutedover my shoulder, thundering by the wounded men, who looked back inpanic at me, but I was not concerned with them.

I had the advantage of going downhill,except so had the Thracian I was chasing just a moment before, andhad now hit the level part of the road by this point. I knew I wasdrawing closer, because I could now see through the dust that hehad a javelin bobbing up and down over the hindquarter of hishorse, the point of it lodged in his upper thigh. Seeing thejavelin reminded me of mine, and I tried to pull it from beneaththe saddle band while at a full gallop, almost losing it altogetherseveral times before I managed to extract it. Now I was clearlygetting closer, yet so was the Thracian getting closer to Serdica,and to a point where our activity would be visible, and mostimportantly, decipherable to anyone standing on the walls who knewwhat they were looking at. At this point, a bit more than a milefrom the fortress, all that would be visible would be some dusthovering in the air, but not distinctly enough to see that it wastwo separate plumes. However, time was rapidly running out, yetthankfully for me, Ocelus again never seemed to tire. I could hearhim sucking in great gouts of air through his huge, fully dilatednostrils, his head bobbing up and down in rhythm with his strides,his mane whipping back so violently that later I had striated marksacross both cheeks where I had been struck by it. It was on ashallow dip in the road that the Thracian’s horse broke stride, anddespite quickly regaining its own rhythm, its lapse had allowedOcelus to close even further. I was now at a point where if we hadboth been stationary, I would be within javelin range, but I had tobe much closer than normal if I wanted to risk a throw, which I didnot. The Serdi rider was hunched over and I could now see that hewas clutching the shaft of the javelin protruding from his thigh inan attempt to keep it from bouncing more violently than it was, thethought flashing through my mind how agonizing that must have been,and I had to grudgingly admire the man’s courage. That did not meanI was not going to kill him, but first, I had to close even more.If I still believed in the gods, I might have said that they wereactually listening, because for the second time, the Thracian’shorse broke stride, this time not regaining its rhythm. The horsewas clearly foundering and for the first time that I saw, the Serdilooked back. I caught a glimpse of a white face, framed by a curlybeard that was so long that it had been plaited into braids. Hishigh helmet was pushed low over his brow, probably from the jarringimpact of the chase. Even so, I could see the fear in his eyes uponseeing my horse bearing down on him. I can only imagine what he sawin my own face when I lowered the javelin, using it as a lance bytucking it under my arm the way I had seen done so many timesbefore, cursing the sweat still soaking my palms. Releasing hisgrip on the javelin stuck in his leg, he began beating savagely onhis horse’s flank, but the poor beast was exhausted and it couldbarely lift its pace. Ocelus must have sensed this, because I felthim actually slow up a bit, and despite sweating, it was notbecause he was blown. It was as if he was saying, “I caught him.Now what?”

I did not have to beat Ocelus the way theThracian had to beat his own horse. All it took was another kick inthe ribs, a shouted command, and my horse reopened his stride. TheThracian saw me coming for him and, just as I was about to pull myarm back to thrust the javelin home, he veered suddenly off theroad in a last attempt to escape. Ocelus reacted instantly, movingso quickly that again I was almost thrown from the saddle, thistime leaning out to the side like I