Bedrock of Empire

by Thomas M D Brooke

  The Praetorians drove virtually all the surviving warriors from the mouth of the two hills. The few remaining stood broken and dying in a scattered shamble of their previous formation. ‘Don’t stop now!’ I shouted at my men. ‘We need to drive northwards!’

  Marcus came through the narrow pass and shouted at the men to form up. The remains of the Spanish heavy infantry were no longer a threat. Those still able to had fled into the early morning gloom; those that hadn’t lay dying underfoot. ‘Marching order, double step. We’re leaving now!’

  The rigid discipline of the Roman legions began to reassert itself. The Praetorians who’d been pursuing the broken enemy host gave up their pursuit and returned to our ranks. They quickly marched out and away from the pass in good order, being careful to keep weapons and shields close. The oxen had been left behind; there was no longer anything to hold the Praetorians back. As Marcus led the column away, I rode my horse up one of the nearby hills, checking for signs of any of the broken Spanish scutati rallying and reforming. As I rode my horse up at a steady canter, I saw no sign of the enemy other than discarded weapons or parts of armour dropped in their panicked flight.

  However, when I reached a slightly higher ridge that ran along one of the western hills, a sight struck me in the distance. Silhouetted against the red dawn to the east was the monoceros, free at last, on top of a hill, its magnificent profile marked out against the sky. If it had suffered any damage from its encounter with the Spanish phalanx, I couldn’t see any. It raised its slightly curved horn and gave a strange high-pitched bellow, before turning away and running to the east.

  I let him go. I knew in all likelihood that it would be the last I ever saw of Germanicus’ wild beast. It truly was a wonderful animal, but I couldn’t regret seeing it escape. Some animals just don’t belong in a cage or to be the main event in a gladiatorial games, whatever the imperial family thought.

  I turned my horse around and thought about rejoining my column, which was making steady progress along the road north. I looked over to Marcus on one of the large horses and counted the ranks of soldiers following him. I guessed around forty were making a slow steady jog northwards. Where was Iovis, and the veterans?

  Marcus pulled his horse to a halt and looked back up at me. I signalled for him to continue on without me, waving my arms. Before I joined him, I needed to find out how far behind Iovis was. I guessed some of those veterans might be struggling to keep up with the pace of the younger men, so I needed to check if we needed to halt the column. From my vantage on the hill, my view of the pass was obscured, but I knew of a place with a good view. On my journey here I’d seen it from a hill slightly to the north-west.

  I watched Marcus’ animated response to my signal. Clearly he wasn’t happy with leaving me behind. I was insistent and signalled again, waiting until I saw him comply. He took the men north, over a rise in the straight road.

  I spun my horse around and travelled to the hill I had in mind, taking my horse slowly and carefully over the broken and rugged ground.

  I started to realise something was wrong even before I reached the summit. Iovis and the twenty veterans should at least have been in sight by now. If they’d been held up, could we really spare time waiting for them to catch up? Our plan relied on us making a fast escape from the area. The road would allow us to make quick progress, but I was still worried about Aleixo and his large host catching us on the road. Mercifully, he had very few horsemen, but his small army was still capable of running us down if they managed to mobilise and come after us quickly. I pushed on, a feeling of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Could Iovis have been waylaid, hindered by returning scutati, those we’d sent fleeing from the pass? If they had rallied, my men could be lost.

  I slowed my horse as I came to the point where I’d first spotted the Spanish spearmen two days ago. I needed to be cautious; even if only a few of the broken men were in the vicinity, my safety could be in jeopardy. I slowly walked my horse and observed below. I cursed Iovis for being a fool. I saw that he and the twenty veterans had positioned themselves along the pass. They had formed a shield wall facing outwards, barring the path of Aleixo and his caetrati warriors. They weren’t under attack yet, but I knew it wouldn’t be long in coming. Aleixo was certain to realise that twenty men wouldn’t be able to hold that pass for long.

  We had discussed this and decided that we couldn’t possibly hold the pass, even if we managed to take it. Not with the Balearic slingers on their way. But I knew what Iovis was doing. He and his veterans were giving their comrades a chance to make their escape. They were sacrificing themselves in order to give us the time to get away.

  Iovis had chosen each of the men in his group personally. Some of them had in all honesty probably seen too many summers to be making the long run to safety. A fair few were approaching their fortieth year, whilst others had wounds from the encounter on the hill, wounds that would slow them down in any pursuit. Had they, as a group, decided they would only slow the others down and volunteered to hold the pass as long as possible?

  I saw Iovis give a signal in the direction of the enemy, who were assembled around two hundred paces from the narrow point in the hills, forming up to make an attack. There were still well over two hundred of the Spanish bandits, the caetrati slowly being formed into a tight phalanx. How long did Iovis think he’d be able to hold that lot with only twenty men?

  My throat felt thick, as I whispered to the wind, ‘You already know it’s hopeless, but you’re willing to stay anyway.’

  I’d witnessed men volunteer for duties that they knew to be a death sentence before, but it never lost its power to shock me.

  I saw the twenty strong and proud men cheer and clap their gladii against their scorpion-emblazoned shields. I was certain that they’d show Aleixo’s bandits that these old Praetorians still held a deadly sting. I was lost for words by the lengths they were prepared to go to to secure the safety of their comrades. The true blood of Rome ran through their veins. It was an honour to have been protected by such fine men.

  If I’d been a better man I’d have spurred my horse back to join them. But this sacrifice was theirs to give. They’d not been ordered to this end, and I couldn’t dishonour the gift they’d given us. Besides, there was no point in lying to myself. I wasn’t a better man. I saw that there was now a small chance of survival; I still wanted to live, and I was going to take the chance Iovis and his men were offering me.

  I looked and saw that the enemy phalanx was starting its advance. Iovis and his men continued to beat their gladii against their shields in anticipation of the clash. ‘May the gods look down on you in favour this day.’

  I spun my horse around and rode her down the hill to the north. Behind me, I heard the shield walls clash, but I didn’t turn my head to look. Some things are just too hard to witness.

  Did I feel a coward for leaving them there? Of course I did; guilt stained me and whipped at my conscience. I gritted my teeth as I took my horse onto the road north, which after a mile put them out of sight, but not out of mind. I felt tears blur my vision as I pushed my horse on. I was angry at my own impotence and furious at the impossible choices soldiers sometimes need to take. I looked up to the sky as I sped up a rise in the road, cursing the gods for what was happening this day.

  Which was why I never saw the broken spear shaft that sent me flying off my horse.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  I landed heavily on my back. My attacker had swung the broken spear shaft double-handed from his concealed position behind a rock, like an axeman felling a tree. My preoccupation meant I hadn’t seen him coming and I’d taken it directly across my chest. I now lay on the road’s flagstones, heavily winded. I coughed and winced, and tried to rise and see who’d attacked me. It was one of the scutati who’d broken and run earlier. A great brute of a man with a heavy beard and long hair. He still wore his heavy scale armour but had discarded his helmet, his large scutum shield, and now also the broken spear shaft he
’d used to dismount me. He should have finished me then, but instead his attention was on trying to mount my horse, which I surmised was the prize he’d ambushed me for.

  I forced myself to my knees, pain and lack of breath making every move an agony. Meanwhile the Spanish renegade, who was clearly no horseman, struggled with my tall stallion. He grabbed the horse by the bridle, far too close to the mouth, and tried to heave himself into the saddle. The confused horse bent his head downwards, following the inadvertent pull his would-be abductor was applying. The result was semi-comical, as the two of them turned around in circles.

  The pause gave me time to find my feet and stumble over to him, but I was still struggling for breath. I managed to draw my gladius, but he saw me coming up behind him and backhanded me around the face. I stumbled backwards as the Spanish outlaw drew his own falcata, releasing his grip on the horse. The horse bolted as soon as it broke free, neighing wildly at its mistreatment.

  The outlaw launched a powerful overhead strike at my body, which I managed to stumble out of the way of. He followed this up with a wicked disembowelling strike to my lower torso, which I managed to block with my own blade. My opponent certainly wasn’t the most refined of swordsman, relying more on brute strength than finesse. However, he was effective, and the strength of his heavy blow sent me staggering further backwards. I’d fought far more skilled men with a blade, but not when so heavily winded. My lack of breath was causing spots to blur my vision as I fell back to my knees. I saw his eyes light up as he swung another wild haymaker designed to take my head off. I swayed backwards, ducking just under it, but overbalanced and went rolling down the rise, head over heels. He ran after me and tried another blow.

  This one never landed. I sprang upwards and my gladius took him in the stomach, rising up between the gaps in the scales of his armour. His eyes opened wide in surprise as I stood and wrenched my blade upwards, searching for his heart. I knew I’d found it when his body convulsed and went limp and his heavy weight lay on my sword arm.

  I let him slip off my gladius and collapsed back down to my knees. I stayed there for a while, struggling to find my breath. When I felt myself suitably recovered, I walked back up the rise looking for my horse. It wasn’t anywhere in sight; it must have bolted far down the road. From here on, I was going to have to walk.

  My back, right knee, and left elbow hurt from landing so heavily off my horse, so catching up my column wasn’t easy. I cradled my injured arm and limped after them, gritting my teeth against the pain and the jarring shooting down my spine. I thought it was nothing more serious than heavy bruising, but running wasn’t easy. The heat of the day increased, the sun rising high into the sky. Just before it reached its zenith, I caught a glimpse of my column cresting a rise in the road. They disappeared from sight as they dropped down the other side. But I knew I wasn’t far behind them now; they must have just been just two to three miles distant.

  Shortly afterwards I heard the sound of horses galloping along the road. Riding horses that quickly on the paved stones of the road could lead to split hooves, laming their mounts, but I guessed that Aleixo’s riders – they couldn’t be anyone else – were prepared to run the risk. I ducked off the road and concealed myself in a hollow. It was hidden from the highway by rocks and heavy bushes. I didn’t have to wait long until I saw them speed past, two dozen of them, led by Aleixo himself on his sorrel stallion.

  Seeing the outlaw confirmed my fears. Iovis must have fallen. I felt the pang of his loss. I’d never known him well, but losing men under your command isn’t easy. The stand his twenty veterans had made for us made their deaths personal to me. They had done well to hold the outlaws for so long, but the sheer numbers involved was always going to work against them. I whispered a short message to the gods, praising Iovis and his men’s bravery, wishing them well in the afterlife. I hoped the ferryman Charon would let them across the river Styx without the coin to pay the fee – I didn’t expect the bandits to have honoured their bodies after death.

  Aleixo had more horses than I’d spied from our vantage on the hilltop. That wasn’t good. Two dozen was unlikely to be enough to threaten the forty remaining legionaries with Marcus, but they’d need to be on their guard and form a shield wall as soon as they heard the horsemen approach. If the cavalry were to come across the Roman column in a loose formation before the wall was set, it could end very quickly. No point in worrying about that now. I needed to trust Marcus to have them prepared. I looked back along the road the way I’d come. I wondered how far behind Aleixo’s main host was. At least another two hundred and fifty caetrati were likely to be following on foot now; they would no longer need the reinforcements. Forty soldiers couldn’t hope to repulse so many. I stumbled on after the horsemen, annoyed that I’d failed to catch up my column before the horsemen overtook me.

  Before too long, I heard the clashing of weapons and men’s raised voices, so I knew I was near. The road made a turn and then I saw them. My forty men were formed in a shield wall – I should have known Marcus wouldn’t let me down. The horsemen were circled around them – shouting insults, running in on their fast steeds, darting back and forth, testing the shield wall’s defences without committing to a direct attack. I observed them from behind a thick elm tree by the roadside, taking stock of the situation.

  Nearly all the riders held light throwing javelins, most of them more than one. They rode their horses in a fast canter, throwing the javelins before swerving away quickly. The legionaries deflected the weapons with their large shields and kept their rigid defence tight. I saw Marcus in the centre of the small square of legionaries with Blantek and three horses by their side. I grunted when I recognised one of the horses was mine. My horse must have caught up with the others before I had. At least the gold was still secure.

  The horsemen were taunting the Praetorians, daring them to come out and face them. I knew that wasn’t going to work. My men weren’t stupid. The legionaries were safe behind their shield wall, but they couldn’t inflict any damage on the outlaw warriors either. The horsemen rode in and away, making sure that they weren’t venturing close enough to be unhorsed or struck by the Praetorians’ gladii. Damn it, we had no pila left. If this had been a normal Roman unit, in all likelihood we’d have a few men with bows to shoot the riders from their saddles. But yet again I cursed the difficulty of using an honour guard in real combat. All my men were equipped identically – and now the pila were gone, that didn’t include any missile weapons. They were supposed to look good on parade, not fight Spanish bandits.

  Aleixo’s riders circled and backed off, grouping further up the road. I saw my chance to rejoin my men and made a sprint for it. The Praetorians nearest me saw me coming and opened up their side of the densely packed square. ‘It’s the quaestor!’ one of them shouted.

  A rider tried to cut me off before I reached them, but I pumped my legs and arms hard, ignoring the pain from my earlier fall. ‘Come on, Gaius!’ I told myself, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my knee – the sound of horse’s hooves getting louder behind me.

  I reached the safety of the shield wall just before the rider ran me down, bursting through the opening in the shields before they hastily closed them behind me.

  The rider backed off, and I collapsed into Marcus’ arms, who exclaimed, ‘Cassius, you’re alive!’

  I bent double, pushing him away, resting my hands on my shaking knees as I regained my breath. ‘Of course I’m alive, why shouldn’t I be?’

  Marcus looked at the large horse by his side. ‘I thought the worst when your mount turned up without you on it. What happened? Did you fall off?’

  I smiled. ‘Something like that. What’s the status of the men?’

  Marcus gave a slight shrug. ‘We’re all slightly blown from our trip from the pass. We went at double march, as you ordered. But we’re holding up. I’m surprised it took these horsemen so long to catch us. Have you seen Iovis and the others?’

  I stood up and put my hand on
his shoulder, before whispering in his ear, ‘Iovis and his men made a stand at the pass, in order to give us time to make our escape.’

  I stood back to see the impact of my words hit home on Marcus’ face. ‘He was a good man,’ he said quietly. ‘We didn’t always see eye to eye, but his loyalty was unquestioned.’

  I nodded. ‘We don’t have time to mourn the dead. Let’s try and honour his sacrifice and get away from here.’

  The horsemen made another harrying attack on the shield wall, never getting too close to do more than throw a spear. Marcus cursed. ‘I can’t get close enough to engage them. As soon as my men try, they pull away. I don’t understand their tactics.’

  I grunted. ‘I do. He realises he doesn’t need to break our shield wall. He just needs to delay us here until his main host arrives. Then they can overwhelm us, just as he must have done with Iovis and the others.’

  Marcus looked at me, colour draining from his face. ‘You should have stayed away from our column. You could have hidden and made it back to Asturica alone.’

  I gave a shake of my head. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not done yet. I think we have a good lead on the main host. We just need to get moving again.’

  Marcus looked around at the circling horsemen. ‘But how? These warriors are good, better than those we fought on the hill. They manoeuvre their horses so well, their use of the falcata so assured. I’m worried to break formation in case we’re overrun.’

  I looked out over the confident group of riders, with Aleixo at their head. ‘I think these are his best warriors. The men he sent to speak to the outlying villages, to recruit followers to his misguided cause.’ I turned my attention back to our own formation: the three large horses stood in the centre and a square of legionaries surrounded them. ‘We need to get rid of these horses first.’