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.The Roman knights made short work of the Gaulish horseman.How strange to be watching a man killed, from on high.It was as if thegreening pastures below were a chessboard, and the long line of Roman troopswinding from the far side of the field merely game pieces not yet set in theirplaces.Pierrette then suspected another advantage of Roman discipline aconsul, standing aside from the battle like this, in a high place, must feelsomewhat this same dispassion, directing his troops less in the hot blood ofcombat than with cold intellect.Just as Cohors III formed up, with IV rightbehind, then beside it, a ripple of sound spread from far away, alongEntremont's bastioned walls.* * *For Bellagos, astride a galloping mare, that same ripple was like thunder fourhundred and eighty iron-shod hooves pounding the gravelly turf.For Bellagos, at the front of his sixscore, it was as if Taranis, wielding his lightning, rode just behind, urginghim on toward the Roman horsemen.Any moment now, the equites would ride outto meet them.But they did not.They stood, and on their left, in a line that diminishedinto distant haze, the Roman foot also stood firm.If he completed the charge,Bellagos saw, those same foot soldiers could flank his horsemen, even surroundthem, before they could break clear.At the last possible moment, he pulledhis mount's head around to the east, and the Winter Horse followed, ridingalong the Roman front just out of range of their spears.On they rode, andon the line of Roman red and brown seemed endless.Some small part ofBellagos's mind noted that the troops furthest along were still in line ofmarch, not in the tight blocks of men the Romans favored over theMassilian-style solid phalanx.* * *"Look!" Pierrette exclaimed."Cohors IV is moving forward." She had recognizedBellagos by some combination of details his armor, helm, or posture."Bellagoswill be caught between them and the copse." But at the last moment, the kentorpulled his horse around, and his men followed, in a tight, irregular arc thatcurved back westward along the line of scrub, to the sally port in the citywall.* * *Bellagos handed his reins to a warrior afoot even as he slid down from themare.He pulled his helmet off, and shook his hair from its sweaty coif."Where is Teutomalos?" he demanded."Atop the bastion, there." The soldier pointed.Bellagos strode off, his twolances in one hand, helmet under the other arm.His tread on the woodenstairway was itself like thunder.file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Douglas,%20L%20Warren%20-.l%20Of%20Tears%20(chunkyPage 155ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html%20HTML)/0671319973__27.htm (6 of 17)2-1-2007 14:13:20- Chapter 27Teutomalos turned at the sound.Was he even taller today, even more massive?"Report!" the vergobret.the king.demanded."How many are they?""It's hard to say," Bellagos said, still somewhat breathless."Over athousand, maybe two, formed up in groups.I had no time to count ranks andfiles.There are perhaps half as many again in three files, stretching out ofsight around the curve of the hill and the copses."Teutomalos's face contorted in an ugly grimace that Bellagos first took forrage at his news but no, the kentor was not the object of his anger, hisstruggle.Bellagos drew back.Surrounding the king was a black-flecked haze,like smoke from burning fat, that darkened, coalesced, and then.Teutomalos sucked in an enormous breath, and the apparitions vanished as ifconsumed."Fantômes!" Bellagos struggled to maintain his warrior's mask, to conceal the horrorbehind it.He sucks in the newly dead like heady smoke, and he grows larger,stronger.Was this what Bellagos was fighting for? This unnatural,monstrous thing? But no he fought for Aurinia, for golden hair set ablaze bythe springtime sunlight, for the sweet fields they had walked together, thecobbled streets they had trod [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]