Etruscan Blood
Page 160
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It was a while before Servius realised that the pushing was becoming easier, that each step he took was covering slightly more ground; the enemy's resistance was fading, as if the men in the opposing front line could sense that things were not right, behind them. One, stupidly, tried to turn his head to look, and Servius slashed his throat while he was distracted. No one closed up the gap he left; discipline was failing. Servius slowed his pace, held the line, refused to be sucked into the hole; the Roman line held. The Roman line advanced.
Now the opposing line was becoming ragged; there were gaps, there were bulges, there were places where the men were bunched up so tightly they couldn't fight, only stand and watch as the Romans butchered their neighbours. In one place the whole line caved in, going backwards so fast the Romans nearly fell as the resistance collapsed. Then, suddenly, the Veientes began to run.
"Hold! Hold!" Servius yelled, but he didn't need to; his men were well drilled. They let the Veientes go, concentrating still on holding the line, moving forward inexorably, pace by pace by careful pace. In some places the back ranks were still pushing forwards, and the panicking frontliners died on their own compatriot's spearpoints, or were held back by the shields of the rank behind their own, and felled by the advancing Romans. Elsewhere, great corridors of space had opened up in the ranks as the Veientes fled.
In front of him Servius saw one man hesitating, thinking which way to go. Servius didn't hesitate; as the man turned, and his shield slid to one side, Servius plunged his spear into the man's guts, bearing him to the ground. As he pulled the spear back, half the man's guts came with it.
"There's augury for you!" he screamed, and heard the cheer go up on each side of him. They were winning, they were winning, Tarquin had come through after all.