by R. W. Peake
Mus returned to report, “Structus has three men down so far, but none dead; Licinius has four men, but one of them is dead, and Calpurnius has four down, none dead, but he said that one of them isn’t likely to last another watch.” He paused long enough for me to blow the signal for another relief then watch as it took place to make sure it went smoothly, before he continued, “Fabricius only has two men down, but one of them is dead.”
He stopped then, and I suppose since I was so preoccupied, it took me several heartbeats to notice, and I turned away to glance down at him as I snapped, “Well? What else? What’s going on with the Sixth?”
I immediately understood that his hesitation was no accident, and I got a presentiment in his expression, just before he said, “Gillo reports that he’s got four men down, but two of them are dead. And, Pilus Prior,” in one of those odd moments, what I noticed was how he had to take a swallow, the bump in his throat bobbing up and down before he finished, “One of them is Ambustus.”
Despite having a fraction of a moment to somewhat prepare myself because of the manner in which Mus was behaving, it still took a span of heartbeats for it to register that he was referring to my former Cornicen, and one of the steadiest, most reliable men in my former Century, a man who had been in that position before I showed up as a young, and yes, arrogant equestrian paid man.
Somewhat absurdly, I felt as if I should say something in the moment, but all that came out was, “Very well. Return to your rank.”
Mus saluted, and hurried away, but I found it hard to concentrate for a short time, mainly because I wondered how Ambustus had fallen, not that it mattered. Somehow, I gathered myself, realizing that my short reverie had not been that short, because I saw more than one of the men in the front rank glancing over their shoulders in my direction, their faces shining with sweat in a silent but unmistakable plea, which I at least managed to heed, blowing the whistle once again. Any time now, I remember thinking this, except it is impossible for me to know if this was the third or thirtieth time it had run through my head.
I lost count of the number of reliefs I had sounded at fifteen, so I cannot say exactly when the battle shifted and intensified, but I do know where and how it began. We had reached the point in the fighting where men were forced to ration their energy, which meant all the shouting, curses, and taunts that are a feature of the beginning stage of a battle had been replaced by panting, the sounds of metal on wood, or wood on wood, and punctuated by shrill screams as someone’s gladius or spear found a home in another man’s flesh. That was why it was so unmistakable a moment, although even if there had not been a huge roar from German throats, the sudden appearance of a new force, rushing from the fringe of the thicker forest that began at the top of the gentle slope, all wearing Cherusci colors would have explained it. And, while most of them were on foot, there were about a hundred mounted men who quickly pulled away from their comrades.
“That has to be Arminius!”
I heard Gemellus’ voice, but I did not acknowledge it, because I had recognized the chieftain the moment I saw him. More importantly, at least to my personal ambitions, I could see they were heading for the spot directly across from Germanicus, where I thought the end of the First Cohort of the 5th and the beginning of their Second Cohort was placed, a distance of a bit more than a hundred fifty paces from where I stood. Almost immediately, I began plotting a path, thinking about how I could accomplish my goal. In distance, it was not that far; the problem was that it was packed with Germans, the rearmost of which were milling about and seemed to be composed of men recovering from their exertions at the front, wounded, and a not insubstantial number of men who were lying on grass that was now completely red, with that shapelessness that comes from death, their bodies having been dragged from the fighting in the same manner as we were doing with our own. I was still looking in that direction and watched as Arminius led his horsemen directly into our line, and once again, I saw things fly into the air, as my view of the Cherusci chieftain was quickly blocked by the other horsemen who slammed into our comrades on either side of Arminius. They were almost all armed with gladii, the mark of nobility, slashing down with them onto the upraised shields, and it was actually the sight of those shields that told me that it was not the 5th, but there were still auxiliaries holding fast, their flat oval shields easy to distinguish. However, they were not all uniform in every sense; like with the Legions, each auxiliary Cohort has its own design scheme, while unlike the Legions, they also use different colors, which was how I could see that there were Gauls, Vindelici, and Raetian seemingly hopelessly intermingled, a sure sign that the fighting had already been desperate enough to shatter their cohesion. Before I could spend another few heartbeats, it appeared as if the plan I was formulating in my head was doomed to fail, but I was sufficiently distracted that, when the cornu command sounded, not from Germanicus, but in the opposite direction where the First Cohort was located, I missed the first notes.
I did hear enough to believe I had an idea, but I still asked Gemellus, who confirmed, “The Primus Pilus is sounding the Cohort relief.”
This unleashed a torrent of oaths from me, which I could see Gemellus did not understand, nor do I believe I could have explained it adequately enough that he would not think me mad. While my height certainly helped me see more than anyone except for those on horseback, I needed help, so I barked to the two men of the outer file five and six ranks from the front to attend to me, then had them hold one of the flat auxiliary shields that littered the ground so that I could step up on it. This put me almost as high as Germanicus, but most importantly, it gave me a much better idea of what was happening. What immediately became clear was that Arminius and his mounted contingent were trying to cut their way through to Germanicus, and they had made significant headway into our front ranks. By this point, they had cut their way through the remaining auxiliaries from the three tribes and were now engaged with the First of the 5th, while the Cherusci afoot had arrived to envelop their mounted comrades and were now spreading along a wider front, in much the same way spilled wine will head in a straight line until it reaches something that blocks it, like a wall, then continues moving along the wall in either direction. This was crucially important because the slower warriors who were still near the rear of the mass of newly arrived Cherusci were beginning to look in my direction, and I knew it would not be long before what I could now see was a line only four men deep still resisting us would be reinforced. Before I stepped down, I took one last glance, this time behind us, and what I saw made my decision.
Hopping down, I turned to Poplicola, and ordered, “Sound the command for full Cohort, left wheel.”
He was hefting his horn, and I knew he was preparing himself to blow a series of notes that were dramatically different, the command we use to alert a Cohort that it is about to be relieved. It was actually somewhat comical, because he was holding the large horn halfway to his mouth as he stared at me uncomprehendingly.
“Er, Pilus Prior? What did you say?”
While this came from Gemellus, I addressed Poplicola, snapping at him, “You heard me! Cohort, left wheel!”
I must stress that my memory of this moment is colored by how it turned out; it was not until later that night, in my quarters, that I began shaking uncontrollably, not because of any of the fighting, but because of how incredibly foolhardy I had acted, and this was the moment that caused me that reaction.
What I had seen that prompted me to essentially disobey my Primus Pilus was based on a set of certain facts that I had ascertained during the period I was standing on that shield. Our Legion, along with the other three in the front lines, had been arrayed in the acies triplex, but since there are four Cohorts in the front rank and only three in the second, that means that one Cohort must always wait a bit longer to be relieved when the Cohort relief is ordered, because a Cohort from the third line must cover more distance. Typically, it is the First Cohort who can afford the longest wait, simply because
they have twice the numbers, usually for the Eighth Cohort who is aligned behind the First but in the third line; however, what is almost as common is that the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh march at a slight oblique angle, so that the Seventh aligns behind the Fourth, the Sixth behind the Third, and the Fifth behind the Second, while the First Cohort remains in place, again because of their size. I had no idea whether this was an oversight, or Sacrovir specifically ordered the relief in the manner in which it was done, but what mattered was that the Fifth made their oblique turn, but in the opposite direction and headed directly for the First, which meant that the Decimus Pilus Prior realized, belatedly, that he was expected to move his Cohort to relieve mine. Between his hesitation and the extra distance, this was one factor that helped make my decision, but the real reason was when I looked over the heads of the Germans packed against my Century and the rest of the Cohort. The most crucial aspect was that a quick glance was all I needed to see that the line pressing against us was only four, or at most five men deep, but it was what the men in the rear were doing that was almost as important, because in the span of the dozen heartbeats I was above the fray, I could see those men looking behind them and to their right, where the fresh Cherusci were located. And, as I mentioned earlier, I saw that these fresh warriors who were late to arrive were looking for other spots to be useful. I will not pretend that my motives were selfless, although what I will say is that my supposed status of favor with Germanicus only entered my mind later, when it appeared as if I might be punished for disobedience.
To their eternal credit, none of my Cohort hesitated to respond, although I did see Structus’ expression of surprise bordering on shock, but it did not stop him from bawling the order to move. Naturally, this movement was not a straightforward matter of just advancing, because there were the aforementioned German warriors, although my suspicion that they were wavering was proven correct because they immediately began backpedaling. I, and most of the Fourth Cohort, had only performed this maneuver in battle once, and when we did, that time I was the Hastatus Posterior, but the result was the same for one person, myself. The first time had been my first battle, during the brief campaign under Germanicus against a force of Sugambri, and being in the Sixth Century, with the order given by then-Pilus Prior Macer to execute a right wheel turn, it meant the Sixth Century had the farthest to go, although the difference then was that there were not any Sugambri trying to stop us. This time, since we were executing a left wheel, it meant that it was the First Century’s turn to have the longest distance to travel, and this time we had the added impediment of Germans in the way. Once we began our movement, I temporarily forgot that I was the Pilus Prior, and I also snatched up a shield, although it was from one of the auxiliaries who had either fallen or had fled, meaning that I almost immediately regretted it because of the awkward feel. I was, and am, acutely aware that because I entered directly into the Centurionate, I have not had nearly as much practice with a shield as a man like my father, and he did spend a fair amount of time training me how to use it, but it still felt awkward. Nevertheless, I held it out in front of me as I picked out one of the men directly across from us, and we were aided when the first reaction of those Germans immediately in front of us was to take a step backward at the sight of my men thrusting their shield out, not in a full extension, but enough to come into contact with their foe’s own protection. And, as I had been told and seen firsthand, all it takes is one of those men to respond by taking a step backward, because once he does, he exposes his comrades on either side, and I sensed at least two of my men taking immediate advantage by leaping forward into that vacant spot while aiming either a thrust of their gladius or a bash with their shield at their suddenly exposed foes to either side. I also heard the sudden cry of pain from someone that was louder than the hoarse shouting, but I was focused on making sure that I stayed even with Fulvius, except that I was turned at something of an angle.
“First two files, right turn!” I bellowed, but when I sensed Fulvius give me a startled glance, I told him, “Not you. You keep your eyes front, and I’ll watch your flank.”
I gave this order not because we had ever trained for it, and the last time we had executed this wheel maneuver, since there were no enemies on our side, we did not have to worry about being attacked from our flank, but by turning the men of the outermost file on my side to face outward, we would at least be protected. It also meant that we had to move more slowly, simply because it is impossible to move as quickly as one sidesteps than it is walking straight ahead. Ironically, our cause was aided by the Germans who were falling back in front of us, but slowly enough that we did not have to worry about moving too quickly for our flank protection to keep up. Regardless of this positive development, before we had moved twenty paces from our original position, I realized that there was a danger that the Germans who were engaged with the remnant of the auxiliary Centuries that had plugged the space between the Sixth of the Third and my Century would suddenly try to cut their way into the space we had just vacated. I know now that it was not very long, but it felt as if I stood there for hundreds of heartbeats in a quandary, realizing that there was a strong possibility I had given those Germans in our area the sliver of hope they needed to renew their efforts. Whether the gods blessed me because they appreciated my attempt to win glory, or because I was a fool and they felt sorry for me does not matter; what did was that I saw that the First of the Tenth had suddenly increased their pace to a trot. The Decimus Pilus Prior, Lucius Regulus, was gesticulating at me wildly, but I did not need to hear him to know what he was shouting.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Or, perhaps, “Are you mad?”
Since there was no need to engage with him, and now that I saw that the empty spot behind us would be filled, I returned my attention to the task at hand, and while it was without the same kind of precision as the last time we performed this movement, the Cohort slowly swung like a huge door, alternately shoving and cutting down those warriors who tried to stop us. It was inevitable that this would not go unnoticed by Germanicus, but in the moment, I was more concerned with Arminius and his fresh Cherusci, certain that they would be shifting their attention to my Cohort, and in this at least, my certainty was rewarded. By placing my Cohort perpendicular to the rest of the line, and now that the gap we left had been filled by the Tenth, the threat we posed was obvious to the Germans, and the shift I had been waiting for, and dreading, began at this moment when we had still not swung all the way to that perpendicular position. A significant portion of the Cherusci were now hurrying to face us, and they reached the Sixth Century first, slamming into Gillo’s front rank with the kind of fury for which the German tribes are known, but I could only risk a quick glance in that direction and have faith in my former Optio and the men of my first command, because after initially giving ground, the Germans we had been pushing backward started to get organized. Compounding matters was that, while the Sixth Century was the closest, other Cherusci had come sprinting from the rear of the mass that was supporting Arminius and his horsemen, bolstering the men facing the rest of my Cohort. There was one attempt by a group of Germans, led by a man wearing a helmet and waving a long, Gallic-style gladius to get around my Century to my right, but the auxiliaries between us and Pomponius’ Third rushed forward from their spot, enabling me to remain attentive to the fate of my own Century and Cohort. Very quickly I, and as I was informed by them later, the other Centurions learned that while we could sound the relief, or we could keep pushing forward whenever one of our enemies either fell or, more commonly, felt the pressure and took a step backward, we could not do both at the same time. What this meant in a practical sense was that our movement was painfully slow, so that it was almost inevitable that, even using our system, men grew tired and we started taking more losses.
The Sixth Century did receive unexpected support, and while I did not actually see it happen, I heard Poplicola suddenly exclaim, “The boys in the Tenth are throwing their javelins
into those Cherusci bastards!”
While I did not see it happen, I certainly saw the aftermath, when several dozen of the Cherusci were reduced to either abandoning their shields because one of our javelins had pierced it and made it unusable, or one of those javelins was protruding from their body, but while it was certainly a welcome sight, it did make me curse myself for ordering the men to drop their javelins before we began our headlong assault. This realization led me to begin looking around on the ground, and seeing how many of them were strewn about, I made my decision.
Backpedaling a few paces, I shouted for the last rank, which turned out to be the Seventh Section at that moment, and pointed around us, “Pick up every one of those fucking javelins, and pass them to the last two sections, two apiece. Then wait for my command.” Even as they were moving, I shouted for Mus, who fortunately was not in the front rank at the moment, and when he came to my side, I essentially told him to order Structus and the other Centuries to do the same thing, but they were to wait, explaining, “I’m going to give the command for the whole Cohort by cornu. They’re to wait until they hear that before they launch.”
Mus repeated my orders back to me, but when he tried to salute, I shoved him to get him moving, a bit too roughly I confess, causing him to stagger. I realized that these two volleys would not be with the same kind of devastating effect as our javelins because of their design, but I needed to do something that counter the arrival of these new, fresh Cherusci if I wanted to achieve my goal.
While I waited for Mus’ return, I alternated between acting as a Centurion, helping when one of my men near me needed it and trying to keep an eye on the larger battle. The one thing I did not do was bother to turn around and look behind me, which was why, when there was a sudden blast of the cornu from a completely unexpected spot I spun about to stare in, frankly, disbelief at the sight of the Legion eagle, its golden wings catching the rays of the sun that was now just beginning its downward arc. More importantly, it was where it was located, perhaps a hundred paces in front of the standard for Clepsina’s Fifth Cohort who had just relieved them, and most crucially, heading in our general direction. Not directly for us, however; it took a matter of heartbeats to see that they were marching at an oblique angle that would place them somewhere to our right, but in the same perpendicular orientation that I was attempting to achieve. Whether Sacrovir had reacted because he had seen and understood that what I was attempting to do would be something that could achieve victory, or because he was furious with me would not be something I would learn for another couple of watches. All that mattered was that they were coming, and to me that meant that the Primus Pilus was attempting to steal my glory and achievement of handing this victory to Germanicus. I suspect that it was no more than a hundred more heartbeats after I heard the cornu that Mus returned, although I was not very appreciative, and I vaguely remember snarling at him about taking his time before I spun to address Poplicola.