by R. W. Peake
“Form wedge and drop javelins! Straight to the gladius!”
I vaguely recall shouting this, but I am afraid this was about the only Centurion-like thing I did, because once again, whatever it is inside me that hungers so much for distinction and glory seized control. Taking advantage of my longer legs, in the moment all that mattered was that I saw no other Roman, Centurion or otherwise, in my peripheral vision to either side telling me that I was ahead of everyone within my sight. Of course, with such a long line, it was possible that there was another man ahead of me, but I experienced a flash of what can only be called smug satisfaction, although it did not last long, because almost at the same instant, I realized a couple of things. The first, that by placing the 1st second in the line instead of the far right, and being in the Fourth Cohort, we were aligned almost directly with the most concentrated mass of Germans in the center who had initiated the attack; the second, and perhaps direst problem was that the only way I could close with any of our foes was to essentially force my way through the auxiliaries who were desperately trying to stand their ground. Actually, they were trying, but when I was no more than fifty paces away, the nerve of part of the Cohort that had been in front of us broke, and as usually happens, it was the men in the rear ranks who, without any kind of command or warning that I saw or heard suddenly turned about and began to run…directly at my onrushing Cohort. I say at my Cohort, but being completely honest, I barely remembered that I was leading a Cohort, more concerned with myself and not colliding with men who were blinded by panic. Almost immediately, I was confronted with the dilemma on how to avoid crashing into a man who was running as fast as he could towards me, but with his head turned to look over his shoulder at the fighting.
“Look this way, you stupid…”
I did not finish, although it would not have mattered if I had since I had inadvertently made the situation worse, because when he was looking behind him he was at least running in a straight line. Unfortunately for him, the sound of my voice coming from an unexpected direction caused his head to snap around, and while I had enough time to see a man’s eyes that were wide open and filled with terror, I did not have the chance to respond to the sudden alteration of his course. I would liken it to when one is being approached by a man coming in the other direction, and you both move in the same direction to make room for the other, ending up with the exact same problem. When it is at a walking pace, it can be slightly embarrassing, but when both men are moving at close to an all-out run, it meant that I barely had time to lower my shoulder before I collided with the fleeing auxiliary; actually, I struck his shield to be more accurate, because like me, he had an eyeblink to react and he instinctively pulled it back towards his body. The impact was terrific, feeling as if Latobius had kicked me in the shoulder, yet despite it staggering me, I kept my feet, albeit stumbling forward. I sensed more than saw the auxiliary’s shield go spinning crazily in roughly the same direction I was heading, and I did hear the sharp cry of pain, but I was more concerned with being struck yet again by one of the first man’s comrades who had decided to flee as well. Perhaps it was the gods who were watching out for me, but this man at least saw me and dodged aside, enabling me to get my feet under me just in time to reach the remnant of what looked like no more than a half-dozen ranks of auxiliaries who were trying desperately to stand their ground. It was a confused mess, and I quickly determined it was impossible to hear or be heard, but with such a thin layer of protection, I did not feel like I could afford to turn my attention away from my front to check on how my Century had fared with the detritus of men fleeing for their lives. I did hear screaming from behind me, but it would not be until after the battle that I would learn that it was apparently the man I had knocked off his feet and who was unable to get back up before being run down my own men, although I would also learn that it was not just the fleeing auxiliaries who lost their feet in the inevitable collisions.
Forcing myself to think more like a Centurion, the first thing I did was look for a transverse crest, or even a white shoulder patch among the auxiliaries, but after a search that probably lasted for perhaps two normal heartbeats, I gave up and then began forcing my way up to where the fighting was taking place. We do not use the wedge formation very often, but it was made for situations such as this, where we could not perform a relief in place by simply aligning our Century’s ranks behind the men of the Century being relieved, because the auxiliary Centuries had become completely disorganized, and there was no longer any kind of neatly defined formations of Centuries. Despite there still being space between files, the footing was treacherous because of the bodies of auxiliaries, although the dead ones proved less of a challenge, while those who still lived were dragging themselves back to the rear. I am somewhat ashamed to say that I was not altogether gentle; I do recall using my foot to shove a man on his hands and knees bleeding from the mouth out of my path, although he is the only one I clearly remember treating in this manner. My only defense was that I was intent on reaching the German warrior I had selected, who at that very moment was thrusting his spear at the chest of his opponent. The auxiliary had managed to get his flat oval shield in front of him, but the power behind the blow sent him reeling backwards, and I did not hesitate, taking a large step forward and to my right, thereby placing me into the suddenly vacated spot directly across from the attacker. As was my habit, I had visually selected him as my first target because of his size, the knee-length mail vest, and the high-crowned helmet that was covered by the skin of a bear, much in the manner of our Signiferi, marking him as a man of some importance, although I instantly determined that it was not Arminius. Our eyes met just as I stepped in front of him, and he gave me what I suppose was his version of a ferocious smile, which was accentuated by the fact that his four front upper teeth were broken off, making it look as if he was displaying fangs, but what mattered was that he was already moving, except he did it in a manner that was unusual for a German. Rather than launch another thrust with his spear, he used his shield, not in the kind of straightforward punch that we train in the Legions, but more of a swinging motion that started outside the plane of his body. My assumption in the moment was that he thought to catch me by surprise and strike me somewhere on my right side, preferably my right arm, either breaking my arm or at least knocking my gladius from my hand. Which, I realized with a bit of surprise, was in my hand since I had no recollection of drawing it, but while it was not a bad tactic, he was far too slow as I simply leaned backward, although I certainly felt the breeze it created. Before I could respond, however, the noise that was already almost deafening was obliterated by what, somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognized as the arrival of my Century and the rest of my Cohort, which helped me in a material manner. I cannot in good conscience say that, if the circumstances had been reversed, I would not have reacted in the same way, but what matters was the result, when I took advantage of my foe’s eyes shifting over to my left, where I assumed the leading men of my First Section had just slammed into this man’s comrades. It did not make for a particularly satisfying kill, using a second position thrust to punch into his throat, but it was a kill nonetheless, as his eyes shifted back to me, wide with the shock, surprise, and I believe the dismay that I know I would have felt at seeing my life end because of such an obvious error. As most men do, he dropped both weapon and protection to clutch at his throat in an attempt to stem the spray of blood, which coated my left arm as I used my vitus to steer him away from me as he toppled in my direction, his eyes never leaving mine as his face slid past my vision because I was determined not to make the same error.
“What took you so long?” I shouted, but I was watching as another German took this man’s place, hampered slightly because of the corpse of his friend now lying on grass that was completely soaked with red, so I had no idea who might answer, or if anyone would.
“You run too fast, Pilus Prior! Your legs are too long! It’s not fair!”
Even with all that was goi
ng on, I felt my face split into a grin, recognizing the voice as belonging to Numerius Fibula of my Second Section; I do not know why, but I thought perhaps it was seeing me smile that caused this second German to hesitate. This was not the reason, as I quickly learned; without taking his eyes from me, he did turn his head and shout what might have been a name, or a command. Whatever it was, it elicited a response from two of his comrades who were just behind the front row of Germans who were now engaged to my right with the Sixth of the Third and the auxiliaries who were still standing. They immediately moved into a flanking position on each side, one of them armed with a double-bladed axe, and they wasted no time in closing with me. The German in the center, wielding a spear and large, lozenge-shaped shield, was unable to close with me because of the corpse of his comrade, and it was the man to his left who moved first, coming at me from my gladius side. Just like the man in the center, he was armed with a spear, his shield smaller, round, and had clearly seen better days, although it was his youth that was most noticeable, appearing to be even younger than I was. The thrust he aimed at me was awkward, and it would not have been a challenge to parry it with my blade, except that the German directly across from me who was separated by the corpse of his noble comrade, either by accident or design, chose that instant to do the same thing. In less than an eyeblink of time, my body reacted even before my mind could comprehend the danger, so I cannot exactly recall it happening, just that somehow I managed to lean far enough to my left that the younger warrior’s spearpoint punched nothing but air, while I used my gladius to knock the spear thrust by the man in front of me up and over me, which was when the third German with the axe made his move, his weapon raised above his head, his hand so far back behind him that I could not even see the axe. This is the kind of attack favored by men who use the axe as a weapon, and it is a devastatingly powerful attack, particularly when the only defense a man has is a vitus and not a shield, which was my situation. A vitus can be used effectively as a parrying device to deflect thrusts, and it can even be used offensively by driving it into a man’s face, the pit of his stomach, or used to strike the elbow joint if the enemy’s arm is extended. Where it is practically useless is as a defense against the sweeping downward blow from a heavy weapon, but as potent as this kind of attack may be, it also takes a relatively long time to land the blow, with the arm sweeping back before it comes swinging down from above the heads of both attacker and defender. I only mention this because this was why the German was totally unprepared when, originating from just behind me to my left, my eye caught the blur of motion that culminated in the iron tip of Gemellus’ Cohort standard striking just above the man’s shield to shatter his teeth in a shower of red and white. Because he was stepping into his own blow, the impact was made even more powerful, resulting in a second shower that was so close to the first it was essentially simultaneous, and I caught the barest glimpse of the tip, which had a more rounded but still pointed end poking through from the back of the man’s head in the fraction of time before my Signifer recovered his standard, but still holding it as a weapon. While not as important as saving my life, Gemellus also enabled me to instantly return my attention to the two remaining Germans, and even as I was doing so, I sensed someone, not Gemellus but one of the men of my First Section, stepping into place next to me. Fortunately, the gap between my Century and the Sixth of the Third, which was even greater because of our wedge formations, was filled by the auxiliaries who had not turned and run, and it enabled me to feel more secure that I would not get flanked. As I now know firsthand, and has been supported by reading all of my father’s account, and most of the Prefect’s, while we have been blessed with an ability that makes it seem as if our foes are moving just a bit more slowly than we do, it is still next to impossible to adequately convey how quickly events are happening in battle. All that I have described, from the moment I ordered the wedge, to when the axman was slain by Gemellus was perhaps a span of fifty normal heartbeats, and it did not take much longer than that for me to dispatch the younger warrior, who attempted another thrust from the exact same position, something that, had he survived, I am certain his older comrades would have warned him about. Aiding my cause was Gemellus, his standard removed from the head of the axman, who had reeled backwards into one of his comrades, and while my Signifer did not actually land a clean blow, he used the extra length of his standard to jab at the spearman directly to my front, temporarily occupying him so that I could use my young opponent’s momentum to aid me, as he essentially ran himself onto the point of my blade. Before I could finish the movement by twisting my hips with my arm braced against my body, he let out such a shrill scream, only a span of perhaps two feet from my ear, that it distracted me enough that I withdrew my blade cleanly. Perhaps the gods meant for this to happen, because in turn, it gave me the opportunity to immediately turn slightly to see that my original foe, having blocked Gemellus’ thrust with his shield, now had it out of position, and I did not hesitate to take advantage. Although it was personally satisfying, it also marked the last moment where I could indulge myself, yet while I was still reluctant to yield my spot to my First Section, I nonetheless did so.
“Fulvius, take my spot!” I shouted this to Titus Fulvius, the second best man with a gladius in my Century, which is why he is the first man to the right of the front rank, standing next to Gemellus, and as I knew he would not, he did not hesitate.
Only then did I take a step backward, both in a physical and a mental sense, trying to get a better idea of what had transpired in the hundred heartbeats of time since we had joined the battle. Since I am trying to render a truthful account, I will not lie and say that I had any idea that this battle would rage for as long as it did, because in that moment, from what I saw in both directions, I was certain that the Germans would break at any moment. That they did not, and would not, for almost two full watches was due to one man, the only man who could inspire both Cherusci and the other tribes of this confederated army; Arminius.
While every Cohort of the front line Legions independently arrived at the same conclusion, that the best way to come to the aid of the auxiliaries who were in their normal battle formation of evenly divided ranks was through the wedge formation, as the fighting continued, we also gradually expanded from our wedge into at least a semblance of a normal order. That it was usually at the expense of one of the auxiliaries falling, either dead or wounded, meant that it was a slow, grim process before, finally, I was satisfied that we were in a situation where I could begin sounding the signal for reliefs. Using Gnaeus Mus of the Tenth Section as my runner, who was also my Tesseraurius, I sent him to each of my Centuries, and it was difficult to concentrate on my own as I fretted about the condition of the rest of the Cohort, hoping that their casualties were as light as mine had been to that point. Again, this was also during the period of time I was certain that the Germans were near cracking, and because of that belief, I made another error by allowing the men of each rank to stay engaged longer than I normally would have before sounding the relief. In a general sense, it was impossible to know the larger situation, although I could see that Germanicus was still mounted, immediately behind the rearmost ranks of the 5th, and not all that far from where I was standing. Naturally, it was impossible to hear anything he was saying, but it was clear from the emphatic gestures he was making with his gladius that he was exhorting the men within hearing to greater efforts. One reason for my certainty that the Germans were about to collapse was because, while slowly, we had been making steady progress in pushing them back. I knew this because the three kills I had made, along with the axman Gemellus had dispatched, were now several paces behind me, but more importantly, we were still mostly aligned with the Cohorts on either side, meaning they had made similar progress.