In the distance, he could see the broad back of Indemeer just disappearing around a curve in the mountain. He'd started down now, and wasn't wasting any time in doing so. He figured the old soldier would reach the base of the mountain before nightfall. It was much shorter going down than coming up. They would only have to drop four or five thousand feet to reach the valleys of the highlands of Kushan. On the Persian side, the one they just came up, they'd had to climb over twelve thousand feet to reach the top of the pass. It had taken them four days.
He wondered if he'd ever meet Jugotai and his son, Shuvar, again, or even if they still lived. Jugotai would be old now, for a man of the hills anyway, and if he had survived the many battles with the rapacious Huns, he would certainly look much older than Casca. How would he explain thatto Jugotai? What would he say to him about that? He shook off the thought. Time to worry about that when they met, if they met.
The trail had widened enough to accommodate horse and rider now. He threw his leg up and settled himself uncomfortably in the saddle.
He jerked and swayed down the trail until he came upon Indemeer. The old man rested against a large boulder, a skin of water in his hands, beads of perspiration rolling off his face. The white spots on his cheeks were gone now and color was slowly returning to his face. Casca was unsure if the old fellow would be able to make the return trip over the mountain behind them. But he was certain that the old bastard would try.
Indemeer waved him over, offering him his water skin. Casca dismounted, thinking that after this campaign he would find a good excuse to send Indemeer and a detachment of his best soldiers back home via the long route on the silk road. It would be longer, but easier on the old sucker.
He took the offered skin and uncorked it, taking a long pull. It was a flat, tepid fluid and it tasted of sweat. They would have fresh drink soon. Indemeer pointed down the trail.
"Not much farther, Lord. We should be there in an hour at the most."
Casca agreed with him, and they talked about what they'd do when they arrived. They knew when they reached the valley below that they would be at their most vulnerable. The troops would be coming down the pass in single file and exhausted from the labor of the climb. If the Huns were aware of their coming, and had sent a strong force to intercept them, they could keep the Persians bottled up in the pass and pick them off a few at a time as they entered the valley. It was not a good position for an army to be in, but they had no choice in the matter.
A message, sent by a relay team of Imperial riders, had reached the court at Nev-Shapur ten days previously, saying that the city of Kushan was under siege. This had happened at the same time that the Kushanite armies were already engaged in a critical battle against the savage tribes to their far south, and there was no way that their forces could be disengaged without suffering terrible losses. If they withdrew, the enemy would surely pursue. The Kushanites could not possibly have withstood the attack of the combined forces of the tribes of Hind and those of the Huns should they decide to ally, so Casca had been ordered by Shapur to take his relief column of ten thousand soldiers to the support of the Kushanites in their struggle with the Huns.
He gave the lead element time to rest before sending them ahead to scout the terrain, checking for Hun patrols or units in that area. If none were sighted, they were to send back a rider; then the rest of the army would go down and make camp in the valley. If Huns were spotted, and depending on how many, he would decide what to do about that when the time came. Contingency planning was not his forte. He was a soldier of spontaneity, quick decisions on the spot.
In the meantime, it was good to rest and let the men take a break until the scout returned.
Indemeer leaned his gray, curled hair against the boulder, asking wearily, "How long ago was it, Lord, that you came over these foul passes?"
Casca thought carefully before answering. "What is time to a place like this, old one? Let it suffice to say that it was longer than I'd like to think about. But to my eye, nothing has changed in these mountains since then."
Indemeer accepted the answer and changed his questions to the subject of the Huns ahead, and what their disposition should be in the relief of the Kushanite city. Casca didn't have answers to these either, saying only that they would wait and see. But if the Huns hadn't taken the city yet, it could be possible to trap them between Casca's men and the defending force of the Kushanites. If they could herd them up to the walls, where their horses would be of little use, the archers would be able to thin them out before closing in for the kill.
The scout returned, leaping from his sweating horse, and bowed to Casca.
"Lord, the way is clear ahead. There is no sign of the enemy, or that they have come this way."
Casca rose, addressing himself to Indemeer. "This is good. You go on down and select a campsite. I'll give the order for the rest of the army to get a move on. We'll have to spend at least two nights there to give the trailing element time to get down and for the horses to rest."
Indemeer raised his old bones from his comfortable rock and mounted his horse in obeyance of Casca's orders.
Casca called out to the approaching column for them to pass word back that they would be out of the mountains this night and camped in the green fields below. He could hear the cheers of elation as he moved to head the lead element, now preparing to move out.
NINE
Camp was made, pickets set out, and scouts sent far away to keep watch for any signs that the Huns were approaching their camp area.
Casca ordered that there would be no campfires that night. For as long as possible, he wanted the Huns to be unaware of their presence. Still, he knew that a warm meal was important for the morale of his troops, so he let the cooks remain at the foot of the pass with their cooking pots. The winds there would whisk away any smoke and the fires could be well concealed in the boulders. One detachment of men at a time, they made their way to the cooking area to fill their bowls and eat. It wasn't as good as the men would have liked, but it was better than cold mutton and bread.
Casca had the men set his command tent up near the pond where he and Jugotai had rested on their way to Kushan. He walked the picket line twice that night to assure himself that none of his sentries were sleeping on duty. Twice, his outriders had come back in to report. They had seen nothing other than a giant glow on the horizon, probably a burning village, he thought.
Casca checked in on Indemeer to see how the oldman was faring. Indemeer's face had regained most of its color and he seemed to be breathing much easier. Casca was relieved; he liked the old war-horse a lot, and needed him and his support. Indemeer lazily asked of Casca how much farther they had to go before reaching Kushan.
"Four, perhaps five days at the most, old friend. From here on in we go in triple columns, as long as the terrain permits, that is. I don't want us to get strung out to the point that there's a possibility that our lead or trailing elements could be cut off."
He knew the Huns were skilled at the old tactic of attacking the leading element and then, when the rear rushed up in aid of their comrades, the Huns would desist and wait for them to spread out again, attacking the rear next and forcing the front to double back and give assistance. These tactics caused considerable wear and tear on the men and the animals and could slow a march nearly to a standstill. By using three lines of march he would be able to counter an attack without having his men rushing back and forth. If one line was assaulted they would fall back on their nearest supporting line. Should the Huns be stupid enough to attack between the columns, they'd be trapped inside. Indemeer nodded, smiling in admiration of his commander's battle savvy. Casca bade him to have a good night.