Legionary

Chapter 51

The ground quaked as the Hun horde moved off. Balamber rode in their midst, gleaming in his iron Sassanian armour and surrounded by his loyal horde leaders — the nobles who would share the largest spoils of his winnings. He scanned the seas of mounted troops that surrounded him; no neat formations or tidy units — this army fought like a pack and devoured all who stood in their way. The swell of spears, caps, arrowheads and bows filled the land to the horizon in every direction, riders and the poor wretches who begged for the honour of serving as his infantry, bobbing gently as they moved southwards.

Destroy all before you; the mantra rang in his head. For the briefest of moments, he allowed the distant memory to run free in his mind, the one that he had fought to keep back for so long, since he was a boy on that very night. His stomach shrivelled as he recalled the scene; the thousands upon thousands of his kin, wailing, bloodied and maimed on the plains. The Qin regiments had cut the throats of his people in a night raid on the tribes. The stragglers, those who had fought their way free, staggered across the deserts and plains, always following the setting sun, numb from such brutal loss, in hope of finding a new home. Something touched his heart for an instant; a misty shade of the stinging sorrow behind his eyes he had felt on those long past days. Meekness brings defeat and dishonour, he gritted his teeth, recalling yet again the pain on his father’s face when he grappled young Balamber by the shoulders on one of those long, dark nights; with this slaughter, the mighty Tengri has spoken to our people these simple words; destroy all before you.

Balamber blinked the harrowing echo from his mind. He checked his horde leaders around him. They feared him more than they feared any foe, be they this ever-less distant empire of Rome or the proud dynasties of the Far East. He spoke gently. ‘A legion of Rome awaits us to the south. Their reputations do them a great service, but keep this in mind when we face them: they are not what they once were. Lambs ripe for the slaughter, if you will. Spill their blood and we open the gates to our destiny. Their empire is a land of bounty stretching to the far end of the world where the sun rests at night. And it will be ours!’ The horde leaders’ eyes glistened in longing and wonderment at his words. ‘You, as my most trusted men, will share in the cream of this bounty. Fight well for me, men, and share my honour!’

‘Rest assured, we will shed our own blood for you, Noble Balamber,’ one replied. The others rumbled in agreement.

He smiled, trotting forward. These men would cut their mother’s throats at the sight of gold. And only the promise of gold would tame them.

Balamber nodded to his personal bodyguard — a giant of a man who wore a huge ox-horn bound around his neck by a ragged leather strap. The bodyguard lifted the horn and filled his lungs. The deep, ominous moan that poured from it echoed across the landscape and was greeted with an animal-like guttural roar of over twenty-thousand Huns.

The horde marched to war.