Final Campaign

was still going to go straightwhile he turned. I managed to recover, the pause brought on by mybrief struggle allowing a slight gap to reopen, the Thracianpounding across the open ground surrounding the road, heading nowin a roughly perpendicular direction to it. The river lay not farahead, and I think he realized that, because after just a shortbit, he turned his horse again toward Serdica. In doing so, he gaveme the opening that I needed. I gritted my teeth, not liking what Iwas about to do, yet the horse was now turned broadside to me, andbefore Ocelus could change direction as well, I tugged his reins tolet him know to keep going straight while I pulled my arm back. Ihad the briefest of moments before I passed across the rear of theThracian, giving me no time to think, probably a good thing, and myarm swept forward, the javelin flying to a point where the horsehad not yet arrived. Then I was past, barely having time to see thejavelin strike the horse in the chest, just behind the right frontleg, before I was on the opposite side of the Serdi. Drawing thereins to turn Ocelus, I heard the scream of the man’s horse as Idid, spinning just in time to see its head drop and slam into theground, its body flipping over with hooves in the air, sending therider flying several paces away, landing with a heavy thuddingsound. Above that noise, I could clearly hear a snapping sound, butI do not know if it was the shaft of the javelin in the man’s leg,or the leg itself. Either way, he let out a horrific scream ofpain, rivaling the screeching of the horse in its death throes. Ikicked Ocelus forward and he shied, clearly not wanting to go nearone of his own kind in mortal terror and pain. It took a couplemore kicks before he would move forward, and I took him wide of thehorse, now barely moving and looking glassy-eyed, blood pouring outof its mouth. I murmured an apology to the horse, and to Ocelus, Isuppose, riding over to where the man was lying, writhing in agonyand much livelier than his horse, at least for the moment. Idismounted from Ocelus, sliding off his back, but keeping my eyeson the wounded man. His helmet had flown off, and he was lying onhis back, his eyes rolling back in his head as he clutched his leg,which I could now see was soaked in blood, the stump of the javelinsticking out where the shaft had broken off from his impact withthe ground. He saw me coming, and made a weak grab for his sword.Before he could, I stepped on his arm, not hard, but enough to stophim. Gasping for breath, he looked up at me with a combination offear and hatred, a look I had seen so many times that I had longsince lost count, even though every time I did, it still gave mepause.

“You’re a brave man,” I said in Greek. “ButI couldn’t let you warn your friends back at Serdica. I promise Iwill be quick.”

“Fuck you,” he gasped, speaking in Latin,which surprised me a bit. “I spit on you and your city. Rome has nobusiness being here in Thrace. We have done nothing to deservethis.”

I really do not know why, but I said,“You’re right. We have no business here.”

Despite his pain, I could see the surprisein the man’s eyes, and I imagine this was the last thing he hadexpected to hear.

“Then why are you here? Why are you doingthis, causing so much sadness and misery in so many Thracianhomes?”

“Because our Praetor is an ambitious,immoral cocksucker, and he wants to win glory for himself,” Ireplied with a shrug. I saw no point in lying to the man since Iwas about to kill him.

“And yet you follow him,” the Serdi saidbitterly. “And you do what he says.”

“It’s my job, just like it’s yours to tryand fight us.”

“But this is my home, this is my land, notyours,” he pointed out.

I could see in his eyes that he was playingdesperately for time, hoping with all the fervor of the doomed manthat somehow he might say something that would save his life.

“Again, you’re right. If it makes you feelany better, I take no pleasure in this. But I have a duty toperform.”

“Then go ahead and do your duty, Roman,” theSerdi said bitterly, realizing that I was not going to be swayed.And I did.

By the time I arrived back at the fortress,the fight was over, if it could even be called that. Caldus haddone his job perfectly, along with the rest of the men, burstingout from their hiding places, or pouring through the hole in theeastern wall and the breach to cut the Serdi down even as they weretrying to understand what was happening. A group of perhaps twohundred had managed to get organized and fought their way to one ofthe barracks buildings, inflicting heavy casualties on the FourthCohort of the 8^th, although thankfully, there were notall that many dead. Only two of the mounted men had made it backout of the northern gate, the one just outside the gate and theother the man I had run down. Those infantry who had tried toescape were cut down, most by the javelins, but a few had actuallymanaged to avoid being hit by the missiles. The Evocati had hunteddown the rest, or so we believed, at least. Inside the fortress wasa mess, every patch of the ground almost literally soaked in blood,with bodies and parts of bodies lying in heaps. If we were going touse this fortress again, there would have to be another mass gravedug, yet I refrained from making the men do the work, counting onbeing able to convince Serdica to surrender now that the bulk oftheir garrison had been eliminated. Lucullus and Silanus had leftto go to the baggage train, the latter stopping and waiting once ithad gotten safely out of sight. Despite all that had been done, itwas still barely past midday, and I hoped