Chapter 4: Pyrinos Polemos

 Jeronimo, with his 2 sons Uriel and Vicente arrived at Cordal.  The 3 looked exhausted, but unfazed.  Immediately they went to seek out Izilda.

They found her, among a crowd of tribesman, many gathered giving and receiving instructions, others running to and fro.  It was clear she was already aware of what was on the horizon,

"Izilda.  Greetings.  It has been many years.  I see you are well and on top of things, as usual", offered Jeronimo, keeping her pace as she hurried down the path.

"Behold.  The Great Sword of The Mount.  Jeronimo, you look strong.  Your sons are on the path to being your equal", responded Izilda, swiping back her shock of black and gray hair, from her dark weathered face. She stopped and turned towards him.  <<?

"Indeed, though there isn't much time to catch up on things.  I see you already know why I'm here.  We have gathered all the elders from the East and the tribes are mobilizing.  We are to meet in Sueta at the earliest."

"I have already seen this as the next logical step and have sent out word throughout the valley and distant hills.  Most have already sent word.  We are all preparing now."

Jeronimo was an attesment to the past battles.  Weathered, yet tall and strong, a shock of silver, almost white, hair, down to his shoulders.  An eye patch over his right eye, an untold story of a hard-won victory, and a reminder of compatriots he would never see again.

As the men, women, and boys hurried throughout the camp making preparations, Izilda and Jeronimo found themselves alone for a brief moment.

"Is it true?  Of the boy in the West", quizzed Jeronimo

"I see even this story has been carried by the wind afar"

I, too, have my little birds"

"You know how these stories are born,  Bits and pieces gathered and mixed with hope and anger.  Filled in with prayers, even lies."

"Indeed.  I have heard many such stories; but this one... This one brings echoes with it"

"I have not yet layed eyes upon the boy myself, but I know those who have.", assured Izilda "The way he is dexcribed reminds me of your Vicente.

Chapter 3: The Battle for Merida

We'll need more wood. Much more. Get those boys chopping. The girls, too.

The forge was already emitting an incredible heat, and had been for a few days, now.

Guarado knew it would need to burn for a few days more. At least. 

He was certain his iron bending days were over. One more battle. This would be the end. In victory or defeat.

Maldo, get all the ingots we have. Spread the word for others to bring theirs here - and any iron that can be melted down. Swords and spears! Swords and spears! 

-and shields he thought himself. Yes, shields. Might need to smith a few special items as well. 

He would speak with Punico. Surely he'd have some ideas. 

He needed to put iron in as many hands as he could. Give each a chance to defend themselves. Their families. Their homes. Their tribe. The land. 

There were many veterans in their numbers, but most were of his age or older. All boys began training at 12, but that was training. No war in these parts for many years, other than a few border skirmishes among tribes. Usually involving a few dozen uncles and cousins. Often settled with a wedding feast.

No war. 

War was coming to them, war is here now. 

Chapter 2: The Circle

(before heading to the circle - a scene where he speaks to his wife, alerting her, giving her instructions to keep herself and the younger brother safe, and a tentative farewell)

He rode to the circle. He rode as fast as his Garrano would take him.  The work-horse was more familiar with pulling a plow than with sprinting.

The castro was now in the distance, barely visible save for the smoke rising from the fire his wife, Laina, had lit earlier in preparation of their mid-day meal.

He knew this day would come.  At least something deep down inside had hoped the advance would be stopped.  It was no secret the Romans were meeting much resistance to the East and it would likely be years before they would be a threat in these parts.

He, and his neighbours; fellow tribesmen had known peace for many years.  Now, it seems, an external threat was on its way that they would have to face together, or perish.

He could already see some of his tribesmen there. One of the elders, so far.
A quick glance into the distance showed evidence of other riders on the way.
They, too, heard the thunder.

Head nods and hand-wringing served as greetings from the other elders gathered at The Circle.  7 stout grey men, 3 women with fierce eyes, and Valdo.  Valdo, the veteran of many battles, grimmer and greyer now then when he stormed into battle, but not old. Not past his prime.  he still carried an air of a warrior, and none doubted him.

"What word?", to the point and economical as always

"2 days march, at most" stated Jeronimo, his cousin and battle brother.  "We were able to capture one of their scouts, another got away. Though not without leaving much of his blood behind.  Likely many other scouts through the hills to the East and who knows where else."

"We must send riders to the Western Tribes, start mobilizing, and prepare for an attack" said Valdo.

"Yes. I'll go now." Jeronimo

"Take Uriel and Vicente.  When you get to Cordal, ensure that you speak with Izilda. She will get word out quickly with her little birds"

With that Jeronimo left to fetch Uriel and Vicente his 2 sons and ride west. His mission was to alert the other tribes and prepare what defence they could muster.

"Where is this Roman? The scout?"

"Outside Suena.  They're holding him at one of the granaries.  He hasn't said much, other than screams of pain and cries to his mother."

"He will talk.  We need to know more about their numbers, troops, and who's leading them.  We also need to send scouts East."

"Let's go.  Send word to Libos.  Have him gather his people and meet us in Suena,"

"Each of you.  Go back to your people.  Alert them and have them all send any who can weild a weapon to Suena."

Chapter 1: Thunder in the Distance

194 BC. Emerita Augusta (Present day Merida, Spain)

The sound of approaching drums in the distance.

Thunder.  On a clear day.

The farmer paused from his work, wiping the sweat from his brow.   Only now that he had put down his rake could he clearly hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance.  Faintly.  Though it was nearing.  Such a clear day, with a nice cool breeze, not much humidity.  There was nothing in the air to make the farmer expect a thunder storm or even a rain shower.  But his ears were telling him there was thunder somewhere off...


"Durius!  Go to Avos, now!  Tell him to bring in the goats straight away!"

"Yes, papa!" the boy cried as he ran towards the meadow.  He noted a sense of urgency in his father's voice he had not heard before.

"And fetch the Falcata!"

Down the hill he ran, towards the river where his brother was tending to the goats.

The Falcata.

He cant remember the last time he had seen his dad's sword.  A couple of years, perhaps.  Him and his brother used to love watching their father sharpen the blade, begging him to let them wield it. Never.
In fact, this would be the first time he would ever handle it. Wow.

He stumbled on a half-earthed stone as he careened down the slope.  Up he popped and continued his dash towards Avos.  Again he stumbled.  Again on a stone.  He was usually sure footed, these slopes were as familiar to him as his father's voice, resonating in his head. "Go to Avos, NOW!  NOW!"

"Avos!" he yelled as he neared him.  "Avos!  Papa said to bring in the goats right away!"  He could see his brother standing there watching over the bleating goats.  He clearly had not heard him as he still had his back to him.

"Avos! AVOS!"

"Durius, my little helper.  You've come to spell me off have you?" said the teenage boy.  Long jet black hair, wind blown, partially covering his green eyes and freckled face.  He had an olive complexion.  Not quite as dark as his father's, but certainly not as light as his mother and little brother.

"Avos!  Papa said to bring the goats in.  Right now!"

"Oh, did he?  Why, what's going on?"

"I don't know.  He just said to get you.  And the goats. Straight away!  He sounded....scared."

"Well then, I suppose we should go.  Help me round them up will you?"

"Sure. Let's hurry" said the fair skinned, hazel-eyed boy.  He was 10 years old.  Five years younger than his brother, but in his eyes, he was his peer.  Just as brave, just as mature.  Just as...Avos.

They rounded up the goats.  Avos, made some clicking sounds with his tongue as he made a motion with his staff that the goats instinctively understood.  They followed him and his brother up the slope towards the house and their awaiting pen.

They could now see their father in the distance.  He was frantically gathering his pack and saddling his horse.  Where was he going?

"Papa." Avos queried, "Where are you off to?  What's happening?"

"Get the goats in.  Protect your mother.  I must ride to The Circle at once"

"The Circle?" the boys said almost at the same time.

"Tell me what's going on!" said Avos.

"Romans."