Bedrock of Empire

by Thomas M D Brooke

  For the second time that day, Viviana saved my life. She saw what was taking place, and even though she had no weapon of her own, she jumped on Blasius’ back. He stopped his downward plunge, turned and backhanded her, sending her sprawling and knocking her senseless. Viviana had only given me a few heartbeats of respite, but that was enough.

  It was long enough for me to draw my gladius.

  My position still wasn’t great. I hadn’t had time to rise completely from the rocks at my back, but when Blasius turned back to me and aimed another blow of his gladius at me, this time I deflected it with my own blade. Blasius tried again. He was an excellent swordsman and tried a quick flurry of rapid blows, exploiting his superior position. But I deflected them all, and after aiming a counterstrike of my own that narrowly missed his thigh, I managed to gain enough time to rise from the rocks completely. Blasius came at me again in an all-out attack, and we spun backwards and forwards in a series of strikes, parries, and counterstrikes.

  Blasius was a hardened veteran from the legions, a swordsman both strong and skilled with the blade. But his best years were now behind him, and when he missed a strike aimed at my throat that I swayed out of the way of, I rammed my gladius hard into his belly. His mail shirt was protecting that part of his body, but I knew the strong Spanish steel of my blade had parted its links by the warm gush of blood that flowed over my hand.

  ‘Cassius.’ Blasius whispered, as he fell backwards and collapsed on the ground in front of me.

  I stared down in horror at the blood that covered my arm almost up to my elbow. ‘I’ve just killed Blasius,’ I said to myself in mute shock.

  I managed to hold enough awareness of the situation to lean over the side of the rocky outcrop and shout out a loud warning to my men below, who were obliviously enjoying last night’s stew. ‘Beware attack! To arms! To arms!’

  They looked up in confusion a full two stade beneath me, but then the rigid Roman military training kicked in and they scrambled to retrieve their weapons and shields before forming a tight shield wall. It wasn’t a moment too soon, as the warriors who’d been waiting for them in the gorge, realising their ambush was foiled, streamed out to attack.

  I was too confused to watch proceedings. I slumped back down, my mind reeling, and repeating the same thing: I’ve just killed Blasius. I managed to raise myself and walked over to Viviana, who was now on all fours, clearly groggy, shaking her head. One side of her skull sported a red and bleeding bruise. ‘Did you hit your head?’

  She nodded. ‘I think so.’ She spat blood from her mouth. ‘And that bastard hit me.’

  I’ve just killed Blasius. ‘We’re under attack. I need to help.’

  ‘Then you go. Don’t worry about me.’ She was still clearly badly affected by the knock on her head, but I thought she’d live. I stumbled clumsily and started making my way down the rocky hill, slipping and sliding as I went. I’ve just killed Blasius.

  The fight below looked to be going in our favour. A couple of the attacking Iberian warriors lay on the ground outside the hastily erected Roman shield wall, and the tribesmen broke off their attack. They ran back into the gorge, pursued by Maris and the other seven Praetorians. Flavus meanwhile was still tied to the mule, but he was screaming and shouting something I couldn’t make out in my confused state. I’ve just killed Blasius.

  I stumbled down a bit further and saw that my brother-in-law Aulus was pursuing the backs of the Praetorians. This time I did make out what he was shouting. ‘Stop! He’s right! Stop!’

  Were we still in danger? I didn’t know. I reached the bottom and stumbled over to Flavus. He shouted at me. ‘You need to stop them, Gaius! They’re heading for a trap!’

  I looked to where he was trying to point with his bound arms. ‘A trap?’ I said stupidly. I’ve just killed Blasius.

  Whether Flavus realised it was pointless trying to explain to me in my current state, or whether he thought I was always this dense, I didn’t know, but either way he changed tack and shouted at me, ‘Gaius, cut my bonds, I need to stop them!’

  I have no idea why I did what he said. Perhaps it was just because somebody was finally telling me what I needed to do. I’ve just killed Blasius. I lifted my blood-soaked hand and looked at my gladius. It had remained in my hand all the way down the steep hill. Flavus raised his wrists and I cut the bonds between them.

  Flavus instantly raced off, stopping to pick up one of the fallen Spanish warrior’s falcata as he went. I stumbled about after him, not knowing what to do. I looked back at the mule Cacus, who was clearly stressed by the sudden flurry of action and the smell of blood and gave a bray of distress. I’ve just killed Blasius.

  It was only when my Praetorians came rushing back, moments later, that I managed to shake my head and realise what was going on. Suddenly everything came into clarity. We were under attack. I needed to help.

  My Praetorians came back in a disorganised rabble, Aulus amongst them. ‘Form a shield wall!’ I shouted when they reached the crown of the clearing where we’d earlier stopped to take our break.

  They did so, and I counted them – six – before urgently asking Aulus, ‘Where are the other two and Flavus?’

  Aulus was as white as a sheet, but at least he’d kept his head better than I had. ‘Maris was trying to get Longus out. He was in a bad way.’

  Longus was one of the younger members of the group. ‘Stay here,’ I told them, before pushing through the shield wall and making my way down the gorge. A wounded Maris was struggling with an unconscious Longus, whilst Flavus was trying to hold back two warriors with a falcata and a Praetorian shield he’d picked up. Unfortunately for him, a group of several Iberian warriors were organising themselves at the bottom of the gorge and would soon be coming his way. I ran past Maris, pulling the small round shield from my back and readying my gladius. ‘Get behind the shield wall,’ I told the optio. ‘I’ll get Flavus.’

  Flavus was a good blade, and he was holding the two warriors off. For a moment, Flavus looked so much like his brother that I thought it was Julius that I saw. The fighting style, the fluid grace, was so similar to what I’d seen countless times on the fields of Syria. Flavus was doing well but couldn’t withdraw. I ran into the fray, striking against his attackers, forcing them back with a quick succession of blows. The expert thrusts of my blade forced caution onto the two warriors and they slowly backed off. I told Flavus, ‘Fighting retreat, no turning your back. Step backwards carefully.’

  We edged backwards as the two Spanish warriors joined their comrades at the bottom of the gulley and started making their way upwards, this time protected by at least a dozen of the Iberian bandits. They were clothed in different styles of armour, but most wore thick leather breastplates and plain leather helmets. Each held either a falcata or a spear, and most held one of the small caetra shields that were so famous on the peninsula. The traitor Audax was amongst them, with a grim, determined look on his face – his betrayal of us now confirmed. Flavus and I backed off slowly, and a couple of the bandits with spears decided to chance their arm and threw them at us. Throwing uphill is never easy, so Flavus and I managed to deflect them with our shields. They looked to be readying themselves for an attack, so I played for time as we slowly retreated. ‘You’ll die for this, Audax,’ I shouted down at him.

  It worked; he replied, ‘I think you’ll be the one dying, noble Quaestor.’

  A few of his comrades laughed as we took another few more steps backwards. ‘You won’t get away with this. What were you hoping to achieve?’

  He gave a false laugh as they stepped closer, shields to the fore, hardened faces grinning angrily. ‘Your death for a start.’

  I decided we were close enough now, so I shouted to Flavus, ‘Now run!’

  We both turned tail and ran back to the comparative safety of our shield wall. It didn’t take the tribesman long to respond. We heard them raise a shout of defiance as they followed closely on our heels. They might have caught us if the Praetorians ha
dn’t timed a volley of the short pila they carried, which sailed over our heads and slammed into the advancing warriors behind us. This checked them, giving us enough time to get between the ranks of our men.

  Flavus and I tried to catch our breath. I half expected to hear the loud clash of two armed groups engaging as soon as we were through, but clearly attacking a well-constructed Roman shield wall was something they didn’t want to repeat after losing two men earlier. They milled about in confusion, contenting themselves with shouting insults and calling us cowards for not coming out and fighting them.

  I saw more of them joining them from behind, only another five or six, but enough to make a difference as our numbers were small. All that was preventing us being overrun was the good position we now held on the crest of the clearing. They had the superiority of numbers, but we held the higher ground. I looked at the newcomers coming up the hill. Most were warriors like the others, but one wore no armour and was unfurling a sling. Damn, that must have been the man who took a shot at me earlier. There was something about the size of the sling that worried me; it looked larger than usual. Possibly a Balearic slinger, feared throughout the world for their deadly accuracy and the weight of their shot. I couldn’t let that man take potshots at us from close range. He could easily disrupt our ranks, and then we’d be finished. I looked around. We had just one pilum left, that of Maris, who was kneeling next to Longus with Aulus. ‘Maris, can you manage a throw?’

  He looked up at me. ‘Unlikely.’ He showed me the wound to his shoulder. ‘Why?’

  I cursed, then turned to Flavus. ‘That leaves you. Do you have a good throwing arm?’

  He nodded. No surprise there; Julius had been good throwing a pilum too.

  ‘You’ll have just one go at this,’ I explained to Flavus. ‘There’s a Balearic slinger coming up the hill. I’m going to offer him a shot he can’t resist. You be ready to take him down with your pilum.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes, if I don’t, we’re all dead anyway.’ The thought of exposing myself terrified me, but I knew I couldn’t let him have free rein against our ranks. I needed to do this.

  Flavus nodded, and I turned and shouted out to the Spanish bandits. ‘Are you ready to talk, Audax?’

  There was a brief discussion. Just as I expected, Audax replied. ‘Yes, come out, I just want to talk too.’

  I made sure my crested helmet was on firmly and walked through my shield wall. However, instead of walking forward, I leapt forward onto the ground. As I expected, a slingshot came winging my way, but my unexpected dive meant it sailed harmlessly over my head. Flavus let fly with his pilum. The slinger had needed to move out from the protection of his comrades to take his shot with the oversized sling, and the pilum took him squarely in his unarmoured chest. I stood back up and ran back behind the wall.

  The warriors jeered and shouted at us. Some of the warriors had smaller slings of their own, similar to the slings that Spanish hunters used to take down game and a useful weapon against an unprepared foe. However, against my heavily armoured legionaries and their resolute shield wall, they were little threat. My men hunkered down behind their shields, just their thick bronze helmets showing above the barricade. The few bandits that still held spears threw them at us, but these were no great threat either, and we deflected them off our shield wall. After a few more insults they decided they’d had enough. They retreated back down into the gorge, where they knew we’d dare not follow.

  I ran over to Aulus. ‘How’s Longus?’

  Aulus shook his head. ‘He’s dead.’ He looked up at me, tears in his eyes. ‘He died in my arms.’

  Dead. Just like Blasius. ‘I need to find Viviana. Stay with the others, they’ll keep you safe.’

  Aulus nodded, but I could see the death of the young legionary had affected him. I turned to Maris. ‘I’m going back up the hill. I’ll have a good view of them from up there. Just keep them bottled up in the gorge.’

  Maris shook his head. ‘You can’t go alone.’

  He was right, but I needed all the legionaries to remain where they were in case they needed to form a shield wall again. ‘I’ll be alright. You just stay where you are.’

  As I rushed to the base of the hill, I saw Viviana stumble down it. She was clearly still groggy and looked as disorientated as I’d been coming down. I ran over to her. ‘How are you?’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I need to go back up.’ I was worried they’d try and climb up the other side. They clearly knew about that vantage spot, which was why they’d placed their slinger there in the first place.

  ‘Then you go. I’ll be alright.’ She pushed herself away from me.

  I didn’t have time to waste; I started making my way up the hill. Viviana let me go, but shouted at my back, ‘Careful, Cassius.’

  I was eager to go, but I felt the need to tell her, ‘Thank you, Viviana. You’ve saved my life twice today. I haven’t forgotten that.’

  She gave me an unreadable look and then muttered something in her own tongue.

  I didn’t have time to wonder what she said. I raced up the hill, careful of the loose shale and unstable ground on the way up. Once I reached the top, I ran over to the other edge and made sure the warriors weren’t trying to come at us from that direction. They weren’t. I saw them at the foot of the gulley, mounting their horses. They’d lost their appetite for the fight and were leaving. They rode off in a flurry of dust. I watched them go, hoping to see where they were heading. However, the terrain made this virtually impossible as there were so many high peaks and raised areas of land, so they soon passed out of sight.

  Once I was sure they were gone, I walked over to Blasius, who still lay in the same position I’d left him. His legs were splayed, his hands holding his belly, blood soaking them and his surrounding midriff. Under his blood-soaked fingers was a large rent in his mail shirt revealing a gaping wound. I kneeled down next to him to close his eyes, but just as I thought Blasius had run out of ways of surprising me, he gave me another one.

  He was still alive.

  He tried to raise his head and croaked, ‘Cassius.’ The effort seemed too much for him, and his head fell back on the ground. He closed his eyes in pain. ‘Still alive then?’

  I looked around but found nothing to cushion his head with. ‘For now,’ I told him. ‘You have a stomach wound, Blasius. You know what that means?’

  When I’d driven my gladius through his belly, I’d pushed my blade upwards as I’d been trained. This should have punctured his heart and killed him instantly. The mail shirt must have deflected the blade more than I’d thought and caused me to miss my mark. Not that it would help Blasius any.

  He opened his eyes and gave a grim smile. ‘It means … I’m a dead man.’

  He was right. It was an agonizingly slow way to go, but a stomach wound was still a death sentence. I’d seen men in the legions with stomach wounds sometimes last days, but they still died in the end. Always. I just nodded.

  He looked at me. ‘Do you expect me to be afraid?’

  I looked him in the eye and said softly, ‘Each man comes to terms with it in his own way. I’ve seen many men die.’

  He closed his eyes again. ‘Did I ever tell you why I was moved to the Praetorians, Cassius?’

  I presumed he was using his last moments to justify his life. I didn’t have the heart to prevent it, although this man certainly deserved no mercy from me. ‘Germanicus told me that you’d been promoted after showing gallantry on the field?’

  He gave a bitter chuckle, and blood bubbled from his mouth. ‘That was the fabrication my tribune thought up when I was thrown out of the legions in Spain.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘You were thrown out?’

  He swallowed and composed himself for a moment, and I thought he’d say no more, but he continued. ‘We were fighting the tribes in Lusitania at the time. It was a hard time. Our convoys kept on being ambushed by bandits. When we chased after th
em, the damn tribesmen kept on finding ways of vanishing into the hills. We found out how eventually. They’d built tunnels into the hillsides. We were chasing a group one time, and they were sloppy and let us see where they went. I was ordered in with my troop.’ His eyes met mine and he gripped my wrist with his blood-soaked hand. ‘I tried my best, honestly I did!’

  His head slumped back on the ground with exhaustion. ‘But I’d always been afraid of cramped places. Ever since my father used to lock me in a box when I was naughty as a boy.’ He gave another bitter chuckle. ‘Some things never leave you.’

  Was this a final confession of a dying man? I had no idea why he was telling me any of this, but I let him continue. ‘You took fright underground?’

  He gave a nod. ‘I panicked, then I ran. The other boys couldn’t believe it. I was quite a man in those days – steady in combat, fearless in the shield wall, the best blade in the cohort, if not the legion.’

  He gave a wistful sigh. ‘But in those tunnels, I panicked and ran.’

  I knew every weakness eventually came to light in the legions. It was why I’d left the legions myself, years before in Germany. ‘What happened afterwards?’

  ‘Our legate had returned to Rome with a gammy leg, so we had a young tribune running the legion at the time. You remind me of him.’

  I was taken aback. That wasn’t what you expected to hear from a man who’d just tried to kill you. ‘Why?’

  He gave a smile that twisted into a grimace. ‘Because he was soft, like you.’

  Well, I supposed that made more sense. ‘You didn’t like him then?’

  Blasius shook his head. ‘No, I liked him alright. After I was brought back to the camp, he took pity on me. He told me I could no longer serve in an active legion, my weakness made that impossible. But I’d distinguished myself many times in the past, saved the lives of countless others, been the first to volunteer for dangerous assignments. He told me he could transfer me to the Praetorians – he didn’t think it likely they’d ever need to send me down any tunnels. They were recruiting veterans at the time, and Augustus had requested a certain number from the legions of Spain due to his time in the peninsula.’ He gave a long choking laugh, although there was little joy in the sound. ‘That’s how I joined the Praetorians.’