by Barry Sadler
Aetius watched the skies and lengthening shadows. It had better be soon. If the Huns waited until it was dark, it would be too late for him to have any chance of victory. He had to get them moving.
Aetius called for a decaturion to escort him and one of his junior centurions out into the open. The decaturion was selected for his almost legendary lung power. At Aetius's command, he bellowed out an invitation for Attila to meet with them in parley.
Even from where Ch'ing was sitting, he could hear the decaturion's bellow and hoped that Attila would not take the offer. When Aetius wanted to talk, it usually meant someone was going to get the short end of a deal.
Attila responded to the offer to parley and kicked his horse out into the open, taking Ongesh with him. Aetius mounted his own horse and, with the junior officer, went out to meet with the Hun. The long time opponents watched each other as they neared.
Attila was curious as to why Aetius would want to speak at this time, but he certainly had nothing to fear.
Aetius was a man of honor, there would be no ambush set for him.
Aetius thought about trying to kill Attila as they talked but just couldn't bring himself to do it. He had better stay with his original plan. If he was the one killed, then the whole operation would fall apart. There was more at stake this day than just his own life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The two men and their escorts rode to a spot in the center of the field where they were easily seen by the warriors of both sides. Raising his fist, Aetius saluted Attila.
"It has been a long time since last we met, Lord Attila."
Attila reined his horse up and settled back in his saddle, eyeing his opponent. "This is true, Roman, but then we always knew that this day would come, did we not?"
Aetius nodded his head. "That's true enough, and I am glad we are finally going to get it over with. Though I will say that while I am going to regret losing you as an enemy, it will give me great pleasure to drag you in chains through the streets of Rome as part of my triumph."
Attila felt his face flush with anger. "You speak of chains, Roman. Never have I lost a battle and always have I taken the Roman in chains to do my pleasure. I was going to just have you killed, but now I believe I shall save you for other amusements."
Aetius laughed in his face. "You filthy savage, do you really think you can beat me? This time you are not facing some novice and there are no traitors here to open the gates for you." He pointed back to his line of legionnaires. "I know you think you have the advantage of numbers, but I have the men: men, do you hear me, not animals! My legionnaires are the pick of the Empire, each of them is worth ten of your filth eaters. You unbelievably stupid savage. I am going to drag you in chains to Rome where your testicles will be removed and you shall crawl to the feet of the Emperor and beg to be permitted to kiss them as his dog."
Aetius ignored the paling of Attila's face and the barely controlled jerk that shook his body. Aetius spat at him. "That is for you and your filth. I only came out to see you one last time. In the event one of my men gets excited and happens to kill you instead of taking you prisoner, I wanted to see your face in order to remember just how incredibly ugly you really are. By the sacred blood of Jesus, there is no place in the world where any civilized race could call you by the name of man."
Aetius reached into his saddlebag, removing a flask of beautifully worked Byzantine gold. He whipped his horse around and tossed it to Attila, who caught the flask easily in the air.
Aetius rode off calling back to him: "My parting gift in case you work up a thirst this day. I know the taste will be familiar and welcome to you."
Aetius whipped his horse back to his lines, his sides nearly bursting with the effort to control his laughter. Aetius slid his horse into the protecting ranks of his legionnaires and finally let loose of his laughter. If what he had just done didn't get Attila moving, then nothing would. He knew that Casca would appreciate the gesture, for it was the scar faced man who had told him of a variant of the trick being used with great success in China, when a Chinese general had an opponent that he wanted to get into battle.
Attila remained where he was, stunned by the words of Aetius. Not even his father or brothers would have dared to address him in such a manner.
The golden flask sparkled in the afternoon sun. Curious, though still in a rage, he carefully opened the top flask and sniffed at the contents from a distance. Aetius was right, the aroma was familiar. He tipped the flask a bit and caught a golden drop on the tip of his finger and touched it to his lips. Attila screamed. Blind outraged fury ripped away all sense of caution. He flung the flask into the face of Ongesh, crying out, "Piss, that's what it is! That motherless piece of Roman filth has given me piss to drink!"
Attila whipped his horse back to his own ranks, drew his sword and cut the throat of a Utigur warrior who was too slow in getting out of his master's way. Attila was escorted back to his lines by gales of laughter from the Roman lines, as the story made the rounds.
He pointed his sword straight at the Roman ranks.
"Kill me those men, but not Aetius. He is to be taken alive. The man who kills him will be torn apart an inch at a time. Now kill ... kill ... kill!!"
The horde lunged forward in a mass, horses shoulder to shoulder crowding each other. There was no attempt at tactics, they would just try to roll over the defenders.
Aetius ordered the brush to be lit and a column of black, oily smoke reached straight up to the clear sky. "Now, the time is now. If we can just hold them for an hour."
The charge of the Huns was restricted by the tree line, which was in a semi oval that channelized the attacking warriors as they drew to within bow range. Aetius ordered the ranks of legionnaires to step back until they were in the trees where they would have maximum protection from the flights of shafts which he knew would soon be reaching out for them. His own archers were already drawing strings back, awaiting the command to let loose their missiles.
The first barrage of Hun arrows flew in a cloud over the distance separating the enemies ... ten thousand arrows reaching for the soft unprotected parts of the Roman defenders. The moment the Huns fired, Aetius ordered his men to form a modified tortoise in which the shields of the legionnaires formed a covering beneath which they would have some degree of protection from the flights of deadly shafts.
Most of the arrows did no harm, but even so three hundred men fell in the first minute of the attack. Aetius ordered his men to counter with their own barrage, but they were to aim at the horses, since they were larger targets. The archers did as they were commanded and soon the screaming of wounded and dying horses filled the air. Their mindless cries of pain were worse than those of their riders.
The Huns raced almost to the stakes before turning back. They had no desire to impale their animals on the hundreds of sharpened stakes. When the Huns neared the stakes, the first rank of legionnaires stepped forward and cast their javelins in unison, then immediately returned to their position in the tree line.
Attila had the first rank of Huns in the assault put to death by their comrades for stopping in front of the stakes and not pushing through. The Huns regrouped after their first flurry and hurled themselves and their animals directly onto the sharpened stakes this time. All this served to do, besides causing the death of several hundred of his troops, was to throw the Hun ranks into confusion as they piled on top of each other in their haste.
Aetius's archers had a field day. There was no way they could miss firing at the mass of wild screaming savages from a distance of less than fifty feet. Aetius held back the rest of his javelins. He would need them later and wanted to let the archers do their work now.
Attila finally gained a degree of control over himself and gave the command for his warriors to withdraw and regroup. He was furious with himself for falling victim to Aetius's ploy. He knew now that Aetius had deliberately provoked him into making precipitous assault. Well, he would not make that mistake again. He had the men an
d he had the time. The Cur-quans screamed orders and lashed their men with whips until they were once more in their proper groupings.
Ch'ing Li sat comfortably under his shade tree and dined on a meal of cold pheasant, which had been aged just the right amount of time to make the tender meat even more succulent, and watched the proceedings, content to wait until he was sent for, which, if Attila kept up his stupid frontal assaults, shouldn't be much longer.
Attila paused to consider his possibilities. He could send his warriors around the flanks and try to hit them from the sides and rear, but that would mean they would have to enter the trees where they would be the least effective. He gave orders for the Roman deserter, Donatus, to be brought to him. Donatus was a handsome man with clean features and gentle brown eyes. His manner was that of one wellborn, but that was a facade that hid a cruelty which even the Huns admired.
He seemed to take a special pleasure in the slaughter of his own countrymen. He affected the costume of a barbarian, though he kept his face clean shaven in the Roman manner. But in his actions, he was as vicious as the worst of the horde. His devotion to death and to Attila had brought him into the inner ranks of the war councils of the Huns.
He saluted Attila, waiting for his master to speak. Attila kept looking at the stakes. "Donatus, clear me a path through those stakes and I will give you first choice of the plunder of Rome itself."
That was all the encouragement Donatus needed. Plunder meant also the women of Rome. He would like to have a senator's daughter for a slave to humiliate in front of her own father. The Huns always said that Donatus had a good sense of humor.
He grinned. "Give me the Gepidae, Goths and others of the Germanic tribesmen and I will give you your path, Lord." Attila nodded for him to continue. "The Germans are better suited for what I have in mind, as they will have to move fast on the ground and their legs are better suited for the work I will need to have done."
Attila agreed, giving him permission to leave. The Roman traitor knew his job, which was why he had been given command of all the siege machines and heavy equipment.
Donatus gathered his force and sent them to collect bundles of dry wood and long grass. From Ch'ing Li he acquired some oil which would be suitable for starting a fire. The burning brush that Aetius had set in front of his stakes had given Donatus the idea of how to get through the barrier. When his force was ready, he had three hundred men from different tribes mounted, ready to advance. In front of them were three thousand Hunnish bowmen who would provide them with a screen until they were near enough to the stakes.
Donatus looked to Attila for permission to begin. It was granted. The Huns moved off at a gallop, then as they neared, they fell into full run. Even at that pace, the Huns fired their arrows with great accuracy as they spread out in a frontal line, speeding across the open field.
Aetius, from his position, could only see the Huns in front. He wondered why Attila was trying a direct assault again. It wasn't like him to make the same mistake twice. His answer came when the screen of Huns split to either side and the German allies of Attila came on until they were nearly on the stakes. Then they threw themselves from their horses, hurling their bundles of grass and wood onto the barrier.
Of the three hundred, half of them died in less than five minutes as the legionnaires cut the tribesmen down with arrows and javelins. But it was too late. The red coals in the pots had been blown into life and several fires were already catching and burning brightly.
Several Romans tried to rush to the barrier and beat out the flames, only to be cut down by Attila's archers. A path was being burned through the only thing which could keep the Huns off the Romans. Smoke billowed up, heavy and choking; luckily, most of it blew back toward the open field.
When the Huns separated, Donatus had pulled back to where he could watch from a safe distance, as the Germans set fire to the barricades. When the survivors turned to run back to the safety of their Hunnish allies, another fifty or so fell to shots in the back or brain. But they had done their job and the bowmen of Attila would see that no Roman would live if he approached the blaze.
Aetius was getting really worried. If help didn't arrive soon, his ass would be in a sling. He tried to reassure his men as best as he could but he was uneasy, considering that his options were damned limited in number. He could pull back into the woods, but that would only delay matters a while. They would have to come out sometime and you could be sure that Attila would not let him get away. No! He would not give into panic and change his plan. He would stay where he was though he knew there were a hundred things which could go wrong and any one of them could mean disaster. But he would stay.
Attila was pleased that the fires were burning fiercely. Earlier, he had been cursing the dryness of the season. Now he was thankful for it. The wood was dry. Soon they would crash through to eliminate once and for all those in front of him.
He told Ongesh to place himself in the front of the main force. He was to have the honor of leading the final charge. He placed his sons on both the left and right flanks to command the wings. Once the center had fallen, they would dismount and go into the woods on foot, leaving their horses behind. From the shelter of the trees, they should be able to do good work, especially if the Romans were retreating as he expected.
The fires were burning down low; the acrid odor of smoke hung over the field. Attila moved to where he could be seen, raised his sword and pointed it at the ranks of the Romans. He raised the shining blade above his head and brought it down sharply. The Hun force moved forward, first at a trot, then a gallop, and finally at breakneck speed in a wedge formation. The wedge would punch through the opening created by Donatus, penetrate to the rear and fan out. The rest would follow in their wake as water pours through a funnel.
His allies from the Gepidae and Goths would advance with them, then dismount to fight on foot. They, too, would try to move to the rear, cutting off any escape by the Roman. That would keep them where his horsemen could still maneuver on the edge of the field.
The drumming of a hundred thousand hooves sounded like thunder over the fields. Twenty five thousand Huns in the first wave rode like madmen, screaming wildly. Attila would hold the remainder of his force in reserve; that was one thing Ch'ing had taught him. Always keep a tactical reserve for the moments when things don't go the way you want them, even if everything looks all right. Never commit your reserve until you're absolutely certain they are needed.
Aetius had his bowmen take up a position behind the ranks of legionnaires who were standing firm, though he knew the horror that must be eating at them at the thought of being taken alive by the savages. Death was not what they most feared.
The first mass of Huns on the point of the wedge reached the burned out stakes only to be met by a solid airborne barrier of missiles. Arrows followed spears, thrown from the hands of desperate men who had to make every one count.
Huns in the forefront went down. The rest crashed their horses into the front rank of the center, using spears, then swords, to hack a path through to the rear. Behind them their brothers, were eagerly pouring through the gap which was widening more at every moment.
Aetius was hesitant about committing his cavalry, but he had no choice. He gave the order for them to charge, though their numbers were pitifully weak. The Roman cavalry broke from the trees in a solid front. Spears held level with their hips, they hit the wedge in the side, driving into the center of it. They stemmed the tide for a few minutes until they were wiped out.
It was then that a new sound came to the ears of all who were not so blinded by battle that they could not hear. It was the roaring battle cries of twenty thousand Burgundians and Franks, followed by the Visigoths. Aetius nearly wept with joy. They had come, his ploy had worked. They had let the Sabiri tribesman escape after witnessing what would appear to all the final breakdown of relations between the Romans and their allies.
The Burgundians and the others had ridden off to wait for the signal from Ae
tius, which was the column of smoke Aetius had lit at the beginning of the battle. The problem had been that they had to keep moving farther away to avoid the outriders of Attila.
The Burgundians smashed deep into the right side of the Hun wedge; this time there was little room for bowmanship. The long swords and heavy axes of the Germans proved more than a match for the Huns at close range. As they beat the Huns back, Aetius gave the order to attack from the center with his infantry. He had no cavalry. All the brave young men had died, but their deaths had given him a few minutes more to await the arrival of the Germans. .
His legionnaires gave forth their own battle cry, following eagerly behind. The legionnaires moved into the milling mass of combatants, using their weapons to good effect, slicing the throats of Hun war horses or hamstringing them. Spears were used to lift many bodily off their animals, then to the ground where they could be properly butchered. But the Huns fought back fiercely, giving no quarter, asking none.
Ch'ing rose to his feet at this new occurrence. What he had feared had come true. Aetius did have something up his sleeve. Ch'ing didn't even bother to mount his horse. He ran across the field to where Attila sat stunned, watching his men die. Ch'ing screamed out at the top of his lungs: "The reserve, let loose the reserve or all is lost."
That snapped Attila out of his shock. He gave the order for the remainder of the Hun warriors to rush to the aid of their savage brethren. The battle swayed one way then another, always hanging in the balance ... neither side could completely dominate the other. Then gradually the Huns began to pull back. Ch'ing was having a fit. Attila wanted to retreat and run but Ch'ing told him to form his wagons in a circle. From the inside, the bowmen would be able to hold off the Romans and their allies.
If they broke and ran, then panic would spread like wildfire. They would be hunted down and killed like wild animals. There would be no way to control a panicked flight. Attila knew Ch'ing was right and gave the order. The wagons he brought with him were formed into a large circle. Then he entered inside the opening left for his men. They withdrew, constantly fighting, until most of them had managed to break contact and were now behind the fragile sanctuary of the wagons.