As Ambustus shuffled backwards and Marcus parried another spear thrust there were three loud and long blasts of the horn from behind him. ‘The signal’ Marcus thought, ‘at last’.
Chapter 33
Lucius watched as the horde of Aequians rushed towards the newly fallen tower. He leant forward on his horse, considering launching the attack immediately as he did so, but deciding to wait. The plan had to be followed to the letter for it to work effectively against the Aequians. His long fingers played nervously with the reins as he considered the approach again and again. Did he need to change anything? Was the plan still going to work? His mind worked through every angle of the plan, his eyes darting around the forces spread across the field ahead of him as he did so. With the main Aequian force held at the walls of the fort Magnus would attack from his position north of the crossroads, almost directly opposite the main gate. Magnus would then send his Equites around the back of the small Aequian camp and clear this of troops before moving to support Lucius’s force when they appeared from almost directly behind the main Aequian attack.
He considered the layout in front of him. Comus had moved his cavalry to face the west tower, but they were in-effective at present and Lucius’s phalanx, with a hundred cavalry, coming at them from the rear would cause confusion. Whichever way they moved they would face a wall of Romans. He smiled.
The main force of Romans had skirted the main Aequian camp and was hidden deep in the trees to the south-east, his right as he stood watching the fighting. These men had a long march to get into position, and with Fortuna’s luck they would be able to do so before Comus saw them coming. He breathed deeply as the Aequians roared on the battlefield in front of him. Once the main army had started to march, with Fulvius at their head, his Equites would attack the main Aequian camp at the same time as the gates of the fort opened and the reserves led by Scipio would charge into the left flank of the Aequians at the wall. This move would pen the enemy into the space in front of the fort.
He saw the picture in his mind’s eye. The square fort besieged in the west tower, Comus facing directly towards it with the bulk of his army, squashed tight as they pushed to crush the fort. The attack from the north would cause him to pull his troops left to reinforce the new move. As these troops rounded the mid-point Lucius would move from the trees directly behind him, but he would need the men to cover three hundred yards at a run just to get into position. Fulvius would then, if the timings were right, appear form the trees in the south east, the right, and send the cavalry at the main camp and attack the right flank of the Aequians, a pincer movement which would, he hoped, render the phalanx useless. It was risky, and he knew it. But every bone in his body told him it would work. As his thoughts re-considered the plan again he jumped involuntarily as three long blasts of the Roman war horns signalled that the Aequians were now in position and Lucius should act.
With a determined smile to the officers sat left and right he raised his hand and swung it forward, at which the signal was repeated across the forest.
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The sound of the Roman war horns caused the thousand men pressed against the fort to momentarily stop pushing against the Roman shield wall as the men took seconds to try and recognise what it meant. In that time Marcus bellowed for the Romans to counter-attack, and with a great heave the Roman wall pushed forwards. As Marcus clashed his shield against the Aequian in front of him the man was knocked back and stumbled, allowing Marcus to thrust his sword into the space left by his shield turning. His sword swiped into air and made no connection, which caused Marcus to step forward, just as he had shown Mella in their training session days before. Ready for the reaction he side-stepped right, bumping into Ambustus who was retreating from a flurry of heavy blows from an attacker. Ambustus grunted as he switched his shield to an overhead position and, quick as lightning, stabbed his short sword into the shin of the man who had stepped forwards in an attempt to stab him once again. Marcus saw the white bone appear momentarily as the sharp blade ripped the flesh from the front of the man’s leg before Ambustus, with a scream and a twist of his body, twisted the sword and snapped the bone with a sickening crunch. Before Marcus could right his own feet Ambustus had returned to his attack position, the Aequian dead from two spear thrusts from the Romans to his right as he crumpled to the floor, his leg in tatters.
Marcus gaped at the strength of the man and his ability to use this weapon to such dramatic effect in such close combat conditions. His own sword was unwieldy in the tight space and he had been caught two or three times, lucky to cover his mistakes with his shield, as the long blade had clashed against enemy spears, shields and bodies. Along the wall the Romans were only just holding their ground, but where Ambustus stood none of the Aequians were prepared to step in close to the man as his lightning reflexes and short stabbing action simply stopped them dead in their tracks.
Marcus glanced to Ambustus, his arms covered in long drips of blood and his breastplate a mass of new scars.
“That sword” he yelled.
Ambustus grinned at him. “In close combat, I found I could not use my cavalry sword” he said, jabbing at an Aequian, who stepped back, lifting his shield as he did so. “And this allows me to get in close and see the whites of their eyes as they die” he added, coldly, in a deep grumble. Even as he moved to counter a long spear thrust Marcus’s mind was working, his instincts telling him what he needed to do. He stepped back, allowing the man behind him to step forwards. As he continued to shuffle backwards to the rear of the three lines his mind was working out how he could do what was needed. As he turned into the small space behind him he scanned the camp and saw his answer next to Ambustus’s cavalry and raced across.
He grabbed at several swords arranged around the forge, the swordsmith clanging to fix them as men brought more damaged weapons to him. He rushed up to the man who looked up from his work hammering a sword edge straight and handing the blade to his slave, who dutifully started to grind the edge back to its lethal best.
“I need ten shortened blades” Marcus shouted, holding his sword out and touching a point just over halfway along its length. “Now” he commanded as the man stared at him incredulously.
“What?” he said, standing and staring at Marcus with fury in his eyes.
Marcus stood tall, a head above the man, who instantly stepped forward, not going to be beaten by this boy.
“I am Marcus Furius of the Eagle” he said, turning and pointing to Manlius, who had seen him and was striding across with the Eagle standard, his face set and his demeanour cold. “I need ten short swords, half the length of this and I need them now” he said calmly but through clenched teeth and with such venom that the man looked from Marcus to the sword and back to him, calculating what damage to his career ignoring this boy could do.
“Slatius” he said turning, “Cutters” he commanded putting his hand out as the slave started rummaging in the pile of tools at his feet, the smith not moving his eyes from Marcus as he stood waiting.
As he started to cut the ends off the swords Manlius arrived and saluted “Sir?” he asked, his face quizzical as he watched the swordsmith slice through another blade, handing it to the slave to sharpen.
“Manlius, am I pleased to see you” said Marcus, smiling as he looked to the Eagle. “Get me twenty more swords and do the same” he indicated to the working man, “and bring them and the Eagle to me in the line” he added as the slave threw a fourth sword onto the completed pile. Marcus grinned as he heard Cossus shouting the men into line - he was preparing to leave the fort. Lucius must have started the main assault on the Aequians he thought. Marcus turned and ran across to Cossus, saluting as he called his name. Cossus turned, and recognising Marcus stood waiting for him to arrive.
“The wall will not hold for long” he said, his breath coming deep and ragged “Maybe another ten minutes before they overwhelm us” he added as he gasped for breath.
Cossus looked at him with a fierce grin. “Your brot
her has set the attack in motion and the Aequians on the north have wheeled to face Magnus’s attack just as we hoped. My men will go now, and you must hold that wall Marcus” he looked around him at the men starting to line up and a satisfied gleam came into his eye.
“Scipio is good” he said as he turned to walk away, “and he will support you” he said as he clasped Marcus’s arm. “Furii, I salute you as a fellow warrior. May Jupiter, Mars and Fortuna look after your sword arm” he said, staring deep into Marcus’s eyes as he spoke. Marcus mumbled the automatic response “and your shield be strong” as he watched the man head to the gates, the crunch of his sandals loud despite the noise of the soldiers getting into line behind him.
As Marcus walked back to the swordsmith Manlius was berating the man for his speed, urging him to get the additional twenty swords ready before he found a sword stuck up his backside. Marcus almost laughed at the scene as he reached the pile of swords and grabbed at them, lifting three or four in each hand as he turned to run back to the fighting. As he reached the rear of the three lines he could see that the right end of the line was buckling under the weight of the Aequians, the three lines now down to two, who were struggling under the onslaught.
‘There’ he thought as he turned to that direction. Reaching the back of the line he threw the pile of swords onto the floor with a crash which made the back line of men twist to see what was happening. Ignoring them he turned to his left and shouted for twenty men to move across from the third line remaining thirty yards away. Just then Manlius arrived with more swords and the Eagle, the pole bumping along under his arm as he struggled with his burden of swords and Eagle standard, Marcus pointed to the pile of half swords.
“Men” he said, composing himself as he spoke, knowing that his words must be confident as the twenty men stood at attention. He beckoned Manlius to stand beside him, noting that the legionaries were looking at the short swords with a mix of fear and misunderstanding. “You are now men of the Eagle” he said stepping forward and picking up a short sword which he handed to the man closest to him, who looked at it before taking the weapon and weighing it in his hand.
“This part of the fort is about to be breached” he said, as the noise of Aequian cheering rose from around them, their last push knocking the Romans back another yard.
“We will defend it with our lives”, he noticed a few soldiers looking at each other “and we will use a new tactic” he shouted above the roar of enemy voices. “The tactics of the Eagle” he said, turning his sword to point at the golden carved bird held aloft by Manlius. “We will strike our claws into the Aequians like an Eagle” he said, “like so” and he moved into a crouch, adjusted his shield an inch and thrust his sword forward in a short punch then closed the shield again. “You” he said to the man whom he had handed a sword, “here” he said nudging his shield to the right and pulling the man forward as he reluctantly moved into line.
“Name?” he asked to the soldier, who looked not much older than himself.
“Publius Narcius” mumbled the man, not used to such activity in the middle of battle and looking around nervously.
“Good. Copy this action Publius” Marcus said, his face set and his action demanding his attention. He crouched, moved his shield from its place next to that of Narcius and jabbed his sword forward as Narcius half-heartedly copied him. Marcus was just about to rebuke the man when another soldier jumped from the men watching, grabbed a sword and stood next to Narcius.
“No, like this you idiot” he said as he bashed his shield against his compatriot and screamed as he thrust his sword three to four times, mimicking exactly the action Marcus had done.
“Excellent” he said, looking at the short sword. “This will stop my bloody stupid spear hitting my leg every five seconds” he smiled as he hefted his shield and smiled to Marcus.
“OK. Grab a sword and get ready” he commanded, with a smile to the new soldier. He turned to Manlius, the men all rushing to the pile of swords and weighing the new weapons in their hands. “Manlius, keep close behind us and lift that Eagle high” he said, “I want those Aequians to know that the Eagle is coming” and inside his heart jumped as the words of the prophecy came back to his mind. ‘The Eagle will lead Rome’ it had said, and today it would lead a new style of fighting for Rome which could save this fort. With a nod of his head the men stepped forwards and moved to through the thin lines to face their foes.
Chapter 34
Lucius had moved forwards to sit close to the road so he could see the movements of the battle ahead and below him. He tapped his sword three times unconsciously as his eyes roved the field. Any moment now the gates would open and the defenders become attackers. As he watched he saw the left edge of the Aequian attack ripple forwards, a great cheer splitting the air. ‘No’ he thought, ‘surely they cannot have gained the fort, just as the plan was working so well’. He mumbled a prayer and turned to one of his orderlies.
“Marius, get close and see what is happening” he ordered as the man saluted and kicked his horse into a trot, then a full gallop.
As he looked at the fort he could see Magnus had moved into position on the left wing, his cavalry clearing the small camp and already circling out wider to halt as support to his left flank. The Aequians, as expected, had split the force at the fort and moved two phalanxes to face Magnus’s one. As they moved forwards to attack Magnus the Aequian cavalry had, as he had hoped, moved across to support their flanks which had halted some of their advance, not wanting to open their side to cavalry charge. Comus was following every move they had planned in their long discussions in Avaenti, thought Lucius. In reply, Lucius had moved his phalanx from the trees behind Comus to split his Aequian cavalry and himself, the men were still running across the ground, dangerous he knew, but so far it was working well. Once in position these men with their spears would not be troubled by the cavalry and could advance on the rear of the men attacking the fort if needed. As he was thinking this another shout from the left edge of the fort dragged his attention away from Comus. The defenders were having a hard time of it there and he hoped they could hold on long enough for Scipio to lead the relief force to attack them. Comus had moved his command position to the south west of the fort and was angrily waving away suggestions from his officers. His anger, thought Lucius, was a weapon the Romans could use and he smiled as he watched the moves play out in front of him. His only concern was that the left edge of the defence as he watched it, would hold long enough for the remaining bulk of the army to leave the fort and attack Comus’s left wing. As if reading his mind the gates swung open and the Romans trotted out, their shouts “For Rome” echoing off the trees all around them.
“The signal” said Lucius, at which the trumpeter on his right blared a long war horn into the mid-morning sky and the final attack, led by Fulvius burst from the trees to Comus’s right.
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As Marcus and the thirty men pushed through to the front line he saw the relief on the faces of the soldiers they replaced, their sunken eyes, bloody cuts and ragged breath showing the ferocity with which they had been fighting. Almost immediately the men came under an onslaught of spears as the movement in the Roman line gave the attack a renewed frenzy.
“Eagles, present shields” called Marcus, crouching and rocking on the balls of his feet as his shield was slapped by a spear as it struck the thick wood. He peered over the top and watched as the attacking Aequians lashed out at the new shield wall.
“Manlius, raise that Eagle” he called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the man ahead of him who was eyeing him intensely.
“On my mark” he shouted across the din of the enemy curses and noise of marching troops behind those facing him. “Go” he yelled, twisting his shield and stepping forward as he had seen Ambustus do. As one the shield wall opened a fraction and the Aequians shouted as they too stepped forward, but as one every Aequian stopped in his tracks as the Roman shields parried their spears and a short sword smashed in
to their bodies. The look of horror on the face of the man Marcus punched his sword into was repeated along the line as twenty or more Aequians fell in one blow, as if struck by a mighty hammer.
“Close the line” shouted Marcus, the elation in his voice hidden in the general noise of the fighting.
“Whoohooo” came the shouts from the thirty men to his left as he glanced across at a manic smirk on the face of Narcius, his eyes bright with the elation of the kill.
“Keep your heads” bellowed Manlius from behind Marcus, his deep voice commanding every soldier within fifty yards.
The Aequians were shaken by the attack and the second line stepped forwards to jab their spears at the new Romans threat.
“Let them come” said Marcus. “Let them get close” he gritted his teeth, warily watching over the top of his shield. The line closed and the drumming of spears on the Roman shields increased as they got within striking range.
“Go” called Marcus, twisting the shield as he punched forwards, this time striking the cheek of the small Aequian who had ducked as he attacked, clearly not expecting Marcus to be able to move his sword in the small confined space between them as he shifted his grip on his spear and moved to strike again. Before the man could scream his pain at the long rent across his cheek Marcus had withdrawn his short sword and smashed it into the man’s chestplate, its ornate brass finishing shuddering as the short sword easily punched a hole in its centre. As the sword slid from the small wound and the man’s eyes moved to look down at the deep crimson tide gushing from his chest he stared up again to look his killer in the eyes, but the wall of shields had closed and darkness fell around his vision.
Dawn of The Eagle Page 21