by C K Ruppelt
With the formation set, the entire rectangle marched forward to the wall. The speed was impeded by the two longer sides of the rectangle, where the men had to move their feet sideways. The men at the bottom of the rectangle moved by continuously switching out ranks. Oz knew from the many training maneuvers he had watched that the rear had to avoid tripping while walking backwards. The distance to the wall reduced to about fifty feet, compressing the mass of five hundred Transcudani warriors that had managed to squeeze into the space. The cohorts’ cornua and tubae blew the command to stop, which the standard bearers relayed only to the units of the northern-most facing men, contracting the sides of the rectangle and spreading it wider. After a few minutes of this, the command changed again to stop everybody, followed by a call to advance, now relayed only to the northern side of the formation.
“Step forward!” the centurions in that part of the rectangle urged their men. “Inpello! Push through,” they called now.
“Follow them!” Oz told his men. He changed from blindly shooting into the masses to picking out targets on the wall itself. The legionary ranks in front of him all stepped together, pushing into the enemy with their shields and throwing some of them back into their fellow warriors. The limited space between their shields made it hard for the probing Transcudani blades to find flesh.
After a few repetitions of the standard legionary rhythm of rotate, stab out, lock shields and push forward, the enemy found itself so squeezed against the inside of their own wall that they hampered each other’s attempts to get back at the Romans.
Oz heard the next command. “Rear ranks, pila iacite! Throw pila!” The effect on the warriors trapped between the legionaries and the wall was horrible. Many pila found flesh and killed on impact, while the penetrated shields added to the confusion in the tight quarters. Another call of “Pila iacite!” The rear ranks threw their second pila, many targeting the enemy archers spread out across the wall. That salvo caused injured and dead to fall off and land on top of their brethren below. Yet they still hold out, fighting for their people with a ferocity that needs to be respected.
The cornua and tubae called the forming of a testudo formation next, and the second and third ranks moved close to the first to cover all three ranks with their shields against arrows. Oz was caught by surprise when the few centurions not already standing in rank moved up to join the backside of the line. The archers on the wall now changed their focus to the Numidian archers. “Close with the line, quickly!” Oz called to his men. Their small leather shields provided little protection from direct hits.
The legionary movement in front of him had slowed down. He saw enough dead bodies had amassed to create a physical barrier. Another command was given, reaching the center century of the northern line in front of a set of stairs leading up to the wall. This happened to be the part of the Ninth’s Second cohort directly in front of Oz and his squad.
“Cuneum formate, form a wedge!” Centurion Opiter Maximus shouted from a few feet away. The center of the line pushed out, legionaries climbed over the bodies on double step and continued forward. This created a triangular protrusion from the line with its point leading right at the stairs. “Move up!” Oz told his men, which filled into the empty space at the back of the wedge as the legionaries continued to push and stab. The wedge hit the wall, allowing the first men to run up the stairs and use their big shields to shove the defenders onto their backs, where they could be easily dispatched from under the legionaries’ shields. As he followed, Oz saw several warriors fall close by after being pushed off the wall. The soldiers secured the landing at the top and the men formed into lines across the walkway, separately for each side. As they started to push apart, a second rank formed behind the first, then a third, followed by a fourth and fifth until Oz and his men made it up the wall to gather behind the legionaries. He aimed below to shoot at the remaining Transcudani trapped against the wall. After Oz finished the last of his ten quivers he looked around the walkway for arrows, mechanically pulling left-overs from dead archers or Roman arrows directly from dead bodies before shooting them at live enemies.
The legionary square below them at last overwhelmed the few remaining trapped warriors, after which the whole square received command to head for the gate itself. Each step was a push with their shields, and a stab out in turn. Every step closer seemed to be harder. The call blew for the ranks to rotate. The green boys in the first rank must be at their end.
With the second rank now up front, the push was renewed. The men had to step over downed bodies on their way to the gate, until they passed it to keep going for another twenty feet. He caught the tips of the two gate doors peaking from below the walkway as they swung inwards. Finally. Now we’ll get some help.
The air suddenly became more humid, solidifying the strong stench of death already permeating everything. He wrinkled his nose in disgust just before the gods of the heavens decided to open their floodgates, starting a heavy downpour to wash away all the offending odors of viscera and bodily fluids.
The legionaries on the wall followed the leading rank below. Oz’s squad followed closely, growing the gap to the other legionaries defending their catwalk from the surviving warriors that had made it up the eastern end of the wall.
“They are breaking through!” Oz heard Adhe shout, and he turned to see the enemy cut deep into the lines of legionaries on the catwalk on the far side of the gate. As the Transcudani pushed, some legionaries were thrown off the wall, while others were trapped against the parapet on the outside of the walkway. The warriors cut through the last line of soldiers and ran right at the Numidians.
“They’re coming at us from behind!” Oz shouted at the rear rank of the legionaries behind him before bending down to grab a spear from a dead Transcudani woman. He rushed forward along the inner side of the wall. Adhe, fifty feet ahead, shot a man from up close, then dropped his bow to pull his long knife.
Oz looked at the swords and spears of the men and women storming at them and had a sinking feeling in his gut. Their small Numidian leather shields were no good for this. He ran after his men, watching Adhe move towards the parapet with Gulussa by his side and Massi close behind. He saw a fourth man get hit and fall off the wall. Who was that?
An extraordinarily big woman pushed a big iron-rimmed wooden shield at his nephew in an attempt to bowl him over. She was heavy, at least a foot taller than Adhe, who casually moved his right foot behind as a brace and managed to keep his shield up. In response, she swung her large sword at the boy with her right, cutting through the rim and into the leather. Just hold on, please, just hold on, I am coming.
As he ran up, Adhe moved fast and decisively, letting the woman fully extend her arm before he stepped into her reach and rotated in behind her shield. In one smooth motion, he stabbed his knife in under her sword arm, deep into her armpit in the opening of her chainmail. She dropped hard.
Just as Oz got to Massi, his friend went down under a sword swing from the side before he could run the enemy warrior through. He desperately tried to pull the spear out while the next warrior approached, pointing a long spear’s wide-leafed iron tip at his chest. He left the spear to pull his knife instead, and without conscious thought his years of combat training took over. He moved his shield, feinting an opening that would invite a quick stab to his middle. When the stab came as expected, he rotated to his left and used his knife to knock the spearhead off target. Trapped in the forward momentum, the man could not pull the spear back soon enough. Oz dropped his own shield to grab the spear with his left hand, about a foot behind the tip. The man stopped and pulled to free his spear. Oz stepped forward and added his own push, resulting in the man needing to brace himself or fall backwards. This left the man’s left side wide open, and with only thin leather armor as protection, Oz easily stabbed into the man’s stomach. As he pulled his knife out he heard a loud shout behind him. Opiter Maximus pushed through between him and Gulussa. The man sprinted hard enough that his outstretched shield
flung the next warrior backwards on impact. He turned to see Titus Pullo and other legionaries follow their centurion.
As he turned back around, he saw a tall warrior’s shield coming right at him. The impact made him lose his footing and fall off the wall towards the ground. He waved his arms, trying to straighten his fall, until he landed on a dead warrior. His head hit the dead man’s shield and the world around him turned black.
***
Lucius Cornelius Cinna and Quintus Titurius Sabinius reached the front of the stairs to the small fort’s southern wall and stopped to hand their reins over to a camp servant. They joined the Ninth’s Legatus, Publius Vatinius, and the fort’s three cohort prefects on the wall, all scanning the enemy fortifications in the soft pre-dawn light. Cinna was surprised to see fighting on top of the Transcudani wall towards the eastern end. Of course, something had to go wrong. The plan was for the fight at the gate to start well after first light.
As he looked on, the morning’s first sunrays penetrated the heavy clouds to illuminate the peaks of the surrounding mountains, adding clarity to his view. The enemy manned the wall in big numbers, all keeping their backs to him. He could only assume that the ground behind the walls must be swarming with legionaries. If the gate could be taken, it would happen soon or not at all. He turned his sight to the troops of the small northern camp, standing ready in marching lines pointed at the fort’s closed gate. Cinna’s gaze went back to the Transcudani wall, and he watched as Roman troops took part of the wall before pushing closer and closer to the gate.
“Do the troops on the ground mirror the men on the wall?” he broke the silence, receiving only a vague nod from Sabinius in response. He is as tense as me, willing the unseen cohorts on to get to the gate.
As the fighting on the distant wall made it to within steps of the gate, legate Vatinius moved into action. “Open both gates!” he shouted down to the soldiers. The gate in the Roman wall opened first, followed by the southern gate of the fort. The legionaries marched out to cover the thousand feet to the Transcudani fortifications while the officers hurried down from the wall. Vatinius and the legion prefects joined the aides and standard bearers at the end of the marching column, while Sabinius and Cinna joined the few Celtic cavalry riders close to the wall gate.
“Where are they?” Sabinius asked impatiently. They didn’t need to wait long before the thunder of many hundreds of hoofs came their way. Just now the clouds decided to empty their heavy load of water over the six hundred Celtic cavalry and the two hundred Cretan archers. The officers waited until the first hundred riders had gone through the gate, then kicked their horses to join the rush. In the dim light Cinna could see the Transcudani gate had opened wide. They passed the quick-marching legionaries and approached the gate where the now visible fighting soldiers formed a corridor for them. They were close to riding through when some of the enemy foolishly moved into the opening, eager to get to the gate’s doors. They were far too slow and the first rank of the Celtic horse hit these brave warriors like a hammer.
Without slowing down, the cavalry with Cinna and Sabinius in their midst moved ever deeper into the sea of enemies. Cinna slashed down with his sword again and again, until they were through to the other side. He turned to see the Cretans coming through as well, their own swords hacking. As the last men came out of the throng, Sabinius screamed “Push through again!” while rotating his sword over his head to indicate the need to turn the horses.
***
Titus Balventius cheered at the thunder the Ninth’s cavalry made when it stormed through the gates behind him, and at the loud thudding noise that sounded like a nearby lightning strike when the first riders hit the enemy masses. He was just to the west of the gate, fighting in the front line after having let himself and Seppius be rotated into the first rank. It was unwritten law that centurions had to earn the men’s respect by getting their hands dirty, or bloody as in this occasion. Balventius regripped his gladius several times after it became slippery from blood and silently praised the mental clarity the cool rain brought him.
He had a brief break in the fight after his last opponent fell backwards, enough to get a glance of the Roman cavalry through the small opening. Some fought off Transcudani cavalry that had emerged from the opening to the other valleys, but most were already coming back, slashing at the enemy soldiers from behind. We won this battle already. These people just don’t know it yet.
He kept pushing out with his shield, rotating it slightly, then stabbing. All their men shouted the repeating rhythm together, keeping the line synchronized. He heard the tubae behind him give a different command, and he picked it up as loud as he could. “Inpello! Push through!” he heard himself shouting, before the other soldiers around him picked it up as well. They added a full step forward to each shield push, moving their line into the enemies, inflicting more pressure instead of simply holding their positions. Every step forward saw many of the Transcudani warriors cut down or pushed back into the men and women behind them.
After moving a full hundred steps forward, Balventius saw a much bigger opening in front of him. He realized the enemy’s mass was thinning rapidly. Starting at the south-eastern corner, warriors peeled off from their main host to rush away. He hoped that meant the Eighth’s cohorts had finished with their village and had turned north to threaten the enemy from behind. He stepped forward to the next opponent, too busy with fighting and staying alive to think about anything else for a bit, until he downed yet another woman warrior and saw only the backs of running Transcudani. The enemy had broken, all rushing toward the opening to the western valleys.
He could see the line of the Eighth’s four cohorts in the distance marching towards him while herding the enemies west. He cheered with the rest of his century and cleaned his gladius before sheathing it and turning towards their cohort standards in expectation. His men were ready for the call. The moment the horns sounded the command to fast trot they chased after the fleeing men and women.
***
Lucius Cinna saw Legatus Vatinius ride up to him. “Ride over to your cohorts and tell them to move over the mountain now, and to make haste. You need to cut the Transcudani off at the ascent to the tableau. If we trap enough of them in the valleys this whole thing is done and over with.”
“Will do, sir!” Cinna shouted back, touching the fingers of his right hand to the side of his helmet in acknowledgement. He kicked his horse and rode hard for the troops of the Eighth. Before he had crossed halfway he saw the cohort prefects had already started to pull their men off the line, starting with the farthest away from the enemy. The men gathered at the foot of the mountain side.
“Have your men start climbing immediately! The legate wants you to cut the enemy off as close to the tableau as possible. Trap as many as you can.”
He saw several salutes, the prefects and centurions touching their eyebrows with their right hands before turning and barking orders. He watched the centuries form in a long line before taking off in a mad scramble up the mountainside. He knew things were well under control now.
Cinna shivered and turned to look at the clouds. The rain had reduced to a trickle. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of that hiding summer sun later. It’s entirely too cold in these mountains.
He encouraged his mare to speed across the muddy ground after their cavalry, on to the next valley and the next Transcudani town.
***
Ozalkis yelped from a slap in his face as he came to. Then from another. He held up his hand in front of his face to stop a third blow from connecting.
“Ah, he’s truly back from the dead,” he heard and opened his eyes to find a hand close by, now offering to help him up. He grabbed without hesitation before realizing it belonged to Opiter Maximus, the unfriendly centurion from the second cohort. He was confused. They all knew the man despised the auxilia forces.
“Thank you,” he said, mystified.
“Oh, not at all. Thank you and your men. Those warriors would have wiped us ou
t from behind if you and your men wouldn’t have been there. You fought bravely, especially considering the flimsy excuses you people have for shields and swords. I saw you get thrown off the wall earlier, so I figured I should look for you.” He waved behind, where most of Oz’s squad walked up, and grinned. “I guess I beat your own guys to it.”
Oz smiled back at Opiter. He had never thought to share a smile with the man, let alone a civil conversation. Over the centurion’s shoulder he saw Adhe slowly walking down the steps from the wall while supporting their friend Massi. With a thankful nod to Maximus and his optio Pullo, he turned and walked over to Adhe and Massi. His nephew was shaking and Oz squeezed his shoulder in support, knowing from his own experience that killing up close and personal was the worst. This kind of killing will haunt his nephew, just as it did him. Every damn day of my life.
He got closer to Massi and inspected the long cut in his lower cheek. “You sure took a beating,” he wisecracked, happy that Massi wasn’t worse off.
“Looks like my arm is broken and I have a new beauty mark,” his pale friend joked back, “but thank you again for getting us into chainmail. I wouldn’t be here without it.”
Oz looked his squad over which seemed light. “Where is Salla?” He saw heads shake. “Muusa? No?” Oz sighed. They had lost two more of their old squad, though it could have been worse. So much worse. He looked around for the medici, hoping they had already set up shop. He wanted to leave their friend in capable hands now that Massi was out of the fight, and the remainder of them needed to catch up with the other forces. He spotted some of the battlefield medic’s helpers collecting wounded and pointed in that direction. Massi waved and started to walk towards them.