Baudolino (58 page)

The ponces would be dispersed in different parts of the plain, ready to perceive, with their highly sensitive ventral member, the adversary's movements and to send, as had been agreed, smoke signals.

In front of all the others, almost at the far edge of the plain, the skiapods were to wait, under the command of Porcelli, ready to emerge suddenly, confronting the invaders with their fistulas and their poisoned darts. After the enemy columns had been caught off guard by that first impact, behind the skiapods the giants would appear, led by Aleramo Scaccabarozzi known as Bonehead, destroying the invaders' horses. But, the Poet urged, until they received the order to go into action, the giants were to advance on all fours.

If a part of the enemy forces were to get past the deployment of giants, then the pygmies would enter action under Boidi from one side of the plain, and, from the other the blemmyae led by Cuttica. Driven in one direction by the hail of the pygmies' arrows, the Huns would move towards the blemmyae and, before discerning them in the grass, the defenders could slip under the enemies' horses.

Each, however, was to avoid running great risk. They were to inflict severe losses on the enemy, but confine their own to the minimum. In fact, the real backbone of the strategy was the nubians, who were to wait, in formation, in the center of the plain. The Huns would surely win the first skirmishes, but they would be already reduced in number when they came up against the nubians, and would be covered with wounds, their horses prevented by the high grasses from moving rapidly. At this point the bellicose Circoncellions would be ready, with their mortiferous clubs and their legendary contempt for danger.

"Right. Strike and run," Boidi said. "The truly insuperable barrier will be the fine Circoncellions."

"And you," the Poet urged, "after the Huns have passed, must immediately re-form your ranks and deploy in a semicircle at least half-a-mile long. So if the enemy falls back on that childish trick of theirs, pretending to retreat in order to encircle their pursuers, you will be the ones to squeeze them between your pincers, as they run right into your arms. Most important: not one of them must remain alive. A defeated enemy, if he survives, sooner or later will plot revenge. Then if some survivor manages to escape, you and the nubians head towards the city. There the panotians are ready to fly against him, and a surprise like that is something no enemy can withstand."

The strategy had been so designed that nothing was left to chance, and at night the cohorts crowded into the center of the city and proceeded, by the light of the first stars, towards the plain, each preceded by its own priests and chanting in its own language the Pater Noster, with a majestic sonorous effect that had never been heard, not even in Rome in a most solemn procession:

Mael nio, kui vai o les zael, aepseno lezai tio mita. Veze lezai tio tsaeleda.

O fat obas, kel binol in süs, paisalidumöz nemola. Komönöd monargän ola.

Pat isel, ka bi ni sielos. Nom al zi bi santed. Klol alzi komi.

O baderus noderus, ki du esso in seluma, fakdade sankadus, hanominanda duus, adfenade ha rennanda duus.

Amy Pornio dan chin Orhnio viey, gnayjorhe sai lory, eyfodere sai bagalin, johre dai domion.

Hai coba ggia rild dad, ha babi io sgymta, ha salta io velca...

Last to file by were the blemmyae, as Baudolino and the Poet were questioning each other about their delay. When they did arrive, each was bearing above his shoulders, bound beneath the armpits, an armature of reeds at the top of which a bird's head was placed. With pride, Ardzrouni said that this was his latest invention. The Huns would see a head, would aim at it, and the blemmyae would be upon them, unharmed, in a matter of seconds. Baudolino said the idea was a good one, but they should hurry, because they had only a few hours to reach their position. The blemmyae did not seem embarrassed at having acquired a head, indeed; they swaggered as if they were wearing a plumed helmet.

Baudolino and the Poet, with Ardzrouni, climbed up the rise from which they were to direct the battle, and they awaited the dawn. They sent Gavagai with the front line, ready to keep them informed about what was happening. The brave skiapod ran to his battle station, with the cry of "Long live the most holy Magi, long live Pndapetzim!"

The mountains to the east were already glowing in the first solar rays when a wisp of smoke, fanned by the alert ponces, warned that the Huns were about to appear on the horizon.

And they did appear, in a long frontal line, so that from the distance it looked as if they were not advancing, but swaying or jerking, for a time that seemed very long to all. They realized the enemy was advancing only because, increasingly, the invaders were unable to see the hoofs of their horses, already concealed by the ferns from those who were watching at a distance, until the Huns were suddenly close to the hidden ranks of the first skiapods, and all expected, in a moment, to see those brave skiapods come out into the open. But time passed, the Huns advanced farther into the plain, and it was clear that something odd was happening down there.

Whereas the Huns by now were quite visible, the skiapods still showed no signs of life. It seemed that the giants, ahead of schedule, were rising, emerging, enormous, from the vegetation, but, instead of confronting the enemy, they threw themselves into the grass, engaged in a struggle with what ought to have been the skiapods. Baudolino and the Poet, from afar, couldn't really understand what was happening, but it was possible to reconstruct the stages of the battle, step by step, thanks to the courageous Gavagai, who sped like lightning from one end of the plain to the other. Through some atavistic instinct, when the sun rises, the skiapod is led to lie down and to shield his head with his foot. And so the assault troops had done. The giants, even if they were not exactly quick-witted, had sensed that something was going wrong, and had started goading them; but, following their heretical habit, they called them shit-monsters, Arian Excrement.

"Skiapod good and loyal," Gavagai said in despair, as he reported the news, "but won't take insults from cheese-eating heretics; you try to understand!" In short, first a rapid theological and verbal scuffle broke out, then a hand-to-hand fight, and the giants quickly got the upper hand. Aleramo Scaccabarozzi known as Bonehead had tried to detach his one-eyed fighters from that insane confrontation, but they had lost their minds and pushed him away with shoves that sent him flying ten yards off. So they didn't realize that the Huns were by now on top of them, and what followed was a massacre. Skiapods fell and giants fell, even if some of the latter tried to defend themselves, grabbing a skiapod by the foot and using him, in vain, as a bludgeon. Porcelli and Scaccabarozzi flung themselves into the fray, each to inspire his own troops, but the Huns surrounded them. Our friends defended themselves, bravely wielding their swords, but they were soon pierced by a hundred arrows.

Now the Huns could be seen driving their way forward, crushing the grasses, amid the victims of their slaughter. Boidi and Cuttica, at opposite sides of the plain, could not understand what was happening, and Gavagai had to be sent to them so they could accelerate the lateral intervention of the blemmyae and the pygmies. The Huns found themselves assaulted from opposite directions, but they had an inspired idea: their vanguard advanced beyond the forces of the fallen skiapods and giants, the rear guard withdrew, and so pygmies on the one hand and blemmyae on the other hurled themselves against each other. The pygmies, seeing those fowls' heads appear from the weeds, unaware of Ardzrouni's ruse, started shouting: "The cranes! The cranes!" and, believing they were confronting their age-old enemy, they forgot about the Huns and riddled the blemmyae host with arrows. Now the blemmyae were defending themselves against the pygmies and, believing themselves betrayed, were shouting: "Death to the heretics!" The pygmies, thinking the blemmyae had turned traitor, and hearing themselves branded with heresy, whereas they considered themselves the sole custodians of the true faith, cried in turn: "Kill the ghosters!" The Huns fell on that brawl and dealt deathblows, one by one, to their enemies, who were still striking one another. Gavagai now reported that he had seen Cuttica trying to arrest the enemies single-handed. But then, overwhelmed, he had fallen under the hoofs of their horses.

Boidi, at the sight of his dying friend, believed both forces lost, leaped on his horse, and tried to ride beyond the nubian barrier to alert them, but the ferns blocked him, as, for that matter, they also made difficulties for the advance of the enemies. With difficulty, Boidi reached the nubians, took his position behind them, and incited them to move, in one body, towards the Huns. But once he found them, thirsting for blood, in front of him, the doomed Circoncellions followed their nature, or, rather, their natural propensity for martyrdom. They thought the moment of sublime sacrifice had arrived, and it was best to hasten it. One after another, they fell to their knees, imploring: "Kill me, kill me!" The Huns could hardly believe their luck; they drew their short, finely honed swords and began slicing off heads of the Circoncellions who crowded around them, stretching their necks and invoking the purifying bloodbath.

Boidi, shaking his fist against the sky, turned and fled towards the hill, reaching it just before the plain burst into flames.

In fact, Boron and Kyot, from the city, warned of the danger, thought to make use of the goats that Ardzrouni had prepared for that stratagem of his, futile in full daylight. They had the tongueless push hundreds of animals, their horns afire, into the plain. The sea of grass was being transformed into a sea of flames. Perhaps Boron and Kyot had thought the flames would confine themselves to drawing a fire barrier, or would drive back the enemy cavalry, but they hadn't considered the direction of the wind. The fire gained strength, but it was spreading towards the city. This development surely favored the Huns, who had only to wait until the grasses were burned, the ashes cool, and then they would have the path free for their final gallop. But, one way or another, it arrested their advance for an hour. The Huns, however, knew they had time. They confined themselves to taking positions at the edges of the fire and, raising their bows to the sky, they shot so many arrows that the sky was darkened, and the arrows fell beyond the barrier, since the Huns couldn't know if other enemies were awaiting them.

One arrow fell, hissing from above and struck the neck of Ardzrouni, who dropped to the ground with a stifled cough, blood issuing from his mouth. Trying to put his hands to his neck and extract the arrow, he saw them gradually covered with whitish patches. Baudolino and the Poet bent over him and whispered to him that the same thing was happening to his face: "You see? Solomon was right," the Poet said to him, "a remedy did exist. Perhaps the Huns' arrows are soaked in a poison that for you is an antidote, and dissolves the effect of those black stones."

"What do I care if I die white or black?" Ardzrouni gasped, and he died, still of uncertain color. More arrows were now falling, thick and fast, and the hill had to be abandoned. They fled towards the city, with the stunned Poet, who said: "It's all over. I gambled a kingdom and lost. We can't expect much from the endurance of the panotians. Our only hope lies in the time the flames grant us. Let's collect our things and escape. To the west the path is still free."

Baudolino, at that moment, had only one thought. The Huns would enter Pdnapetzim and would destroy it, but their mad dash would not stop there; they would press on, towards the lake, and invade the wood of the hypatias. He had to reach it before them. But he couldn't abandon his friends, he had to find them, they all had to collect their belongings, some provisions, prepare for a long flight. "Gavagai! Gavagai!" he shouted, and at once he saw his faithful friend at his side. "Run to the lake, find Hypatia—I don't know how you'll do it, but find her, tell her to be ready. I'll be coming to rescue her!"

"I not know how to do but I find her," the skiapod said and shot off.

Baudolino and the Poet entered the city. News of the defeat had already arrived. Females of every race, with their babes in arms, were running at random through the streets. The terrified panotians, thinking that they now knew how to fly, were jumping into the void. But they had been taught to glide downward, not to hover in the sky, and they quickly found themselves on the ground. Those who desperately tried to flap their ears to move in the air, plummeted, exhausted, and were dashed against the rocks. They found Colandrino, desperate at the failure of his training, Solomon, Boron, and Kyot, who asked news of the others. "They are dead, peace to their spirits," the Poet said angrily. "Hurry! To our quarters," Baudolino cried, "and then to the west!"

When they reached their lodgings, they gathered up everything they could. Going down in great haste, opposite the tower they saw a bustle of eunuchs, loading their belongings on some mules. Praxeas, livid, confronted the friends. "The deacon is dead, and you knew it," he said to Baudolino.

"Dead or alive, you would flee all the same."

"We are leaving. When we reach the pass, we will set off an avalanche, and the path to the Priest's kingdom will be closed forever. Do you want to come with us? If so, you must accept our terms."

Baudolino didn't even ask him what those terms were. "What do I care about your damned Prester John?" he shouted. "I have more important things to think about. Come, friends!"

The others remained dumbfounded. Then Boron and Kyot admitted that their real aim was to find Zosimos again and the Grasal, and Zosimos surely had not yet reached the kingdom and would never arrive there now: Colandrino and Boidi said they had come with Baudolino and they would go with Baudolino; Solomon observed that his ten tribes could be on either side of those mountains, so for him all directions were good. The Poet didn't speak; he seemed to have lost all will, and another had to take the reins of his horse to lead him away.