by Griff Hosker
“Kadarcs, dispose of any wounded.” The young trooper leapt from his mount and quickly slit the throats of any who showed signs of movement. He then put all the wounded horses out of their misery. The former was easier than the latter.
“Gerjen back on point. Any casualties Decurion?”
“Just two. They surprised us. They had sentries in the trees.”
“You had better join Gerjen then and show him where they are.”
They made the ambush pint without further incident and then approached carefully. They saw the clearing and the village ahead. The villagers had been warned and Flavius could see the spears of the men on its walls. “Decurion Numerius. Guard this road. Decurion Cava bring your men and we will skirt the woods.”
Marius and Flavius had hoped that they would be able to avoid detection but their red leggings marked them clearly in the woods and Flavius knew that they would be observed. It could not be helped. Wolf looked at the fort as they negotiated the woods. It was bigger than their own village and had higher walls. He wondered how the legion would assault it. It took them some time to circumnavigate its circumference and they saw the other gate was open. Flavius could see riders at the gate. They were escaping. “First turma follow me.”
Wolf raised the standard and they set off at a gallop, leaving the security of the forest to try to cut off the five riders who rode from the beleaguered village. Flavius was a good rider but not in the class of the men he lead. “Panyvadi, Gerjen take the men and stop them!”
Whooping a war cry the rest of the turma left Wolf and Flavius to hurtle after the five warriors who looked in horror at the twenty men who were catching them. They could have turned and returned to the village but they were brave men who had been given orders by the chief. They had to get to Armin’s oppidum and they tried. It was in vain. Gerjen and the others did not use their javelins but hacked the fleeing warriors from their saddles with their swords. By the time Flavius and Wolf reached them they had finished off the wounded and were leading the five horses. “Well done. Let’s get to the other side of the clearing.”
Wolf felt envious of his friend’s achievements. They had been bloodied in battle. He began to regret being the standard bearer and having to stay by the Decurion. By the time Cava joined them they heard the Prefect and the rest of the ala approach. Flavius reported their actions and they waited for the assault to begin. The sun had almost reached its zenith when Numerius arrived with his turma. “The Prefect sent us. Said we would be more use here. They were just starting the attack.”
As they listened they could hear the collective moan and the sound of screams and the clash of iron. It was maddening to be able to hear but not see their friends and comrades; were they winning? The soon discovered that the Larks were indeed winning when the gates opened and the villagers fled. “Flavius take your three turmae and charge them The rest we stop them here. Warriors die. Try to take prisoners.”
Flavius turned to Wolf and the others. “Charge!” Wolf raised and lowered the standard and they galloped forwards. The villagers were mainly the women and children but there were some warriors and boy slingers with them. Ignoring the women and children who would be captured by the rest of the ala the troopers went for those with weapons. Wolf saw a slinger aiming at Gerjen and he sliced down with his sword. The boy’s head burst open like a ripe plum. Gerjen himself threw his javelin into the chest of a warrior who was trying to rally the warriors. “Head for the gate!”
Keeping as close as he could to the Decurion Wolf galloped towards the gate which was now thronged with those trying to escape. Wolf had no chance to discriminate between those with and those without weapons; he hacked to the left and right of Blackie’s head and all died. Then they were in the village and Flavius could see the legionaries had broken in. “Wolf signal rally.”
Wolf turned and raised the standard three times. The slinger on the walls had watched the Romans enter and he aimed at the warrior with the wolf. The stone struck Wolf in the right eye; it disappeared in a bloody eruption. Even as Wolf felt the shooting pain Darvas had thrown his javelin to end the life of the brave slinger while the rest had circled Wolf and the Decurion with a protective wall of shields. Through his good eye Wolf saw Flavius’ concerned face. “Are you..”
Wolf grinned through the pain. “I am fine sir. Just got a headache.”
Gerjen looked concerned. “Well it looks a mess.”
“I can’t see anything but it hurts a little.”
“Just hang on Wolf we have almost won. Pannonians charge those warriors.” A line of warriors had formed a wedge and were advancing towards the legionaries. The troopers charged into the unprotected backs and they died to a man as the ruthless Fifth legion hacked and slashed their way to meet the auxiliaries. The Centurion grinned up at Flavius. “Neatly done Decurion.” Then he saw Wolf. “What a fucking mess! Capsarius!” The medical legionary trotted forwards. “See to the lad.”
“Gerjen, take the standard.”
“But sir I am fine!”
“That is an order Wolf,” then he added in a gentler voice. “Just until you have had medical attention.
As he stepped from the horse the capsarius took a water skin and a piece of cloth from his bag. He took off Wolf’s helmet and gave it to a waiting Darvas. He was a big man but remarkably gentle. “This will sting a little but I have to clean it out.” The pain was excruciating but Wolf was a warrior and he gritted his teeth. “Good lad, nearly finished. He bandaged it up. “There you are son. We’ll have the doctor look at it when we are back in camp.”
“When will I see again?”
“I am sorry son. There is no eye in there. It is just an empty socket. You only have one eye now.”
Wolf suddenly felt his legs go. It was unfair. He had not even had the chance to defend himself and he had lost an eye. He was no longer whole. Would he be pensioned off? Sent home? “Steady son!”
“Will I have to leave the army?”
The capsarius put his arm around his shoulder. “I don’t think they would be daft enough to get rid of a brave bugger like you. You’ll just have to learn to cope with one eye.”
Wolf looked up as Flavius dismounted. “That was a brave thing you did. Many men would have fallen but you did your duty Wolf. You are the heart of this turma and do not fear. Your time with the Pannonians is not yet over.”
Riding back, once more with the standard in his left hand Wolf experienced increasingly frequent waves of pain. He could not believe that such pain could be endured but he was determined that he would. If they thought that he was hurt they might take the standard from him. The Prefect was at the rear escorting the prisoners but Flavius and his turmae had suffered injuries, wounds and death and Marius wanted them across the bridge as soon as possible. Behind them the flames from the burning village sent plumes of black smoke high in the sky. The raid had taken the Chauci unawares but they now knew that the Romans had crossed the river.
When they reached the river The Gauls asked them about the attack. “Their warriors could not stand against the legion.”
The huge First Spear looked up at Flavius, “There’s not many as can.”
“How is the bridge?”
The Gaul grinned, “Moves up and down a bit too much for my liking but the Fifth got across without a problem.”
They heard the tramp of feet as the legionaries tramped down the road. They nodded at the auxiliaries and just tramped across the bridge. Wolf’s pain was forgotten as he watched the alarming motion of the bridges. It looked as though it would tip them all off but miraculously it did not. Flavius saw Wolf’s look of terror. “Don’t worry Wolf; Roman engineers are the best in the world. The bridges are all short one so that they do pitch and toss but it means they are less likely to break up. If you notice the soldiers are only marching in half centuries so that there are fewer men on each one. We will do it with half turma. We will not get a ducking, trust me.”
By the time the legion had crossed Marius reach
ed it with the prisoners. The Gallic Prefect said, “I’ll send a couple of centuries over with them. You’ll have your hands full with your horses. Besides, as soon as you lads have finished, this thing will be covered in horseshit!”
One of the optios returned across the bridge. “Legate’s compliments and he wants the ala to cover the withdrawal.” He looked at the Gallic Prefect. “He said to bring your men over now sir.”
The Gaul looked in disbelief. “All we have done optio is sit on our arses while these have been doing the fighting.”
The optio looked embarrassed. “Sorry sir, he was insistent.”
Under his breath he murmured, “Prick.” He put his arm out. “Sorry about this Prefect.”
Marius gave a rueful smile. “We’ll be along soon enough.”
“Right First Spear, the sooner we are over the sooner these lads can follow.”
The last Gaul had just reached halfway when a rider galloped in. “Sir. Decurion Murgus; compliments and there is a warband of Chauci on our tails.”
Marius cursed the Legate. “Publius, get the wounded over. Turmae four and five form a defensive line. As soon as the wounded are clear we start to pull out. Flavius go and warn the Navarchus that the Chauci are coming. Ask him to have his ballistae ready.” He looked at Wolf. “Go on son. You are wounded. Over the bridge now! That is an order!”
“Sorry sir. I am the standard bearer and I leave when my Decurion leaves.”
Marius shook his head. He would have left as soon as he had the opportunity. “Ready javelins.” He shouted loudly,” When I give the command to retreat I want you all over the bridge, even if there are too many of us. We sink or swim together.”
They heard the screams and the clash of metal. There were the sounds of men dying as the two forces crashed together. Flavius came back. “He said he will but the Legate has ordered the bridge to be destroyed rather than let the enemy cross.”
“Shit! Decurions Cava and Tullus, get your men over. The two Decurions looked like they were going to argue. “No arguments! Go.”
Murgus and the remnants of his turma appeared. The Decurion was bleeding heavily from a wounded arm. “Thousands of the bastards sir! Couldn’t hold them.”
“Well done Aulus. Get your men over. Don’t argue just go!”
They heard the clatter and whoosh as the sailors fired their bolts and the first Chauci were hurled from their mounts. “Decurion Vatia, one volley of javelins and then over the bridge.”
The turma charged the enemy and hurled their missiles. As they returned Wolf saw empty saddles. The clattering of the hooves on the bridge meant that they had saved at least half of the ala. There were just a hundred and fifty men left but Wolf could see that they would be outnumbered. Suddenly a band appeared from their left and Wolf recognised Sura. “Sura, you traitorous bastard.”
“See you lost an eye you little arse licker!”
The deserter galloped directly at Marius who was busy organising the turma of Decurion Quintus Atinus across the bridge. Wolf saw the javelin pulled back and he galloped forwards and thrust the wolf standard at Sura who was not expecting the wounded warrior to fight. The sharp spike drove into his left side and the shocked deserter fell from his horse. The bolts had slowed the attack down and given them some respite. Suddenly they heard the voice of the Navarchus. “Prefect we are destroying the bridge get across now!”
“Retreat!”
Wolf had the only standard left and he lowered it to the horizontal as the last turma, his fled across the bridge. He waited until he saw Flavius retreat and joined him. As soon as they reached the bridge they felt it move away from the bank as the ships began to back oars. They rode as hard as they could but by the time Wolf, Flavius and the Prefect had reached the middle the integrity of the temporary structure had reached breaking point and the wooden bridge disintegrated. It cracked and the water began to seep between the wood. For a brief moment it seemed to hold the weight of men and horses and then it went. Suddenly Wolf found himself in the icy river, clinging on to the mane of his horse and the standard. Blackie had been ridden all day and was tired. “Come on boy. One last effort. We are half way there.”
He felt the horse try to pull away but he also felt the current pulling him downstream towards the sea. The ships were still keeping the barbarians back with their bolts and there were no ships to catch men who were lost. It was too dark to see the others and Wolf knew that he had to save himself. He suddenly realised, somewhat dispassionately, that he had felt no pain from his damaged eye socket since he had entered the water. That was a blessing at least. It gave him the strength to kick with his own legs and he found that they were a little closer to the shore. He kicked again hard and then felt Blackie slow up as its hooves found purchase on the river bed. He kept kicking until his exhausted horse dragged them both wearily to the shore. “Thanks boy! There will be apples. Lots of them.”
At the remains of the bridgehead Sextus Vatia took charge. “You troopers who have just landed, get off your horses and get in the water. Drag these poor buggers in.”
The Gallic Prefect turned to his men. “Come on, let’s get our comrades out of this shit hole.”
Soon there were three or four men pulling in the survivors who were beyond exhaustion. The last two were the Prefect and Flavius. Marius looked at Vatia and the Gallic Prefect. “Thank you. We owe you.”
The Gaul said, “No, thank you. You have been badly treated.”
Just then Gerjen ran up to Flavius. “Sir, where is Wolf?”
They all realised that the standard bearer had not been pulled ashore. They all began shouting his name and searching out over the river. It was some time before they gave up. The Navarchus brought the fleet over. He leaned over the side. “Sorry about that Prefect but I had my orders and the Legate is not a man to be crossed.”
“Did you see any more men when you were coming over?”
He shook his head. “None living.”
All the exultation after their victory was now gone and they were all left with a sour taste in their mouths. It would take a roll call to find the extent of their casualties but Marius knew that they had lost many and none more valuable than Wolf. They trudged back to the camp feeling as down as it was possible to be. Decurion Tullus had organised food and his men had begun making hot food. The exhausted men who had had to swim across the river were grateful to feel the warmth seep into their bodies. There was no talk, no singing and no banter. The men were numbed. Their victory felt like a defeat and Marius and his officers sat around a fire staring into the flickering flames. Publius coughed. “Er sir? There are one hundred and five missing men. We have twenty wounded. They should all survive. We lost thirty horses.” That, in itself, was a miracle. Many horses had lost their riders but joined the swim across the river with the rest of the herd. But men were harder to replace.
Marius stood up, angrily, “I am going to give the Legate a piece of my mind!”
Flavius stood and placed a hand on his chest. “And what good will that do sir? The Legate doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to take insolence of that order lying down. Where would that leave us eh? The Pannonians would be sent back home, without their hair and their honour and we would be shipped back to the Ninth. No sir. The whole army knows what a prick the Legate is. The Larks were singing the praises of the ala and the Gauls are as angry as we are. You know how this army works sir. Shit always rises to the top.”
Marius forced a smile, “Which doesn’t say much for me then does it?”
“No sir…”
“I am only joking Flavius and you are right. But we brought these lads on a long journey and they deserve better than this.”
Cava said quietly, “I am the only true Pannonian on this river bank and those men who died, they are in heaven now. They died fighting and they died with their honour intact. There are none of them who would regret their deaths. They are warriors. They died a warrior’s death.”
“What drowning in the river like
poor Wolf?”
“You mean I died?” the pale figure of Wolf, leading a shattered and exhausted Blackie stepped into the firelight. “Funny, this doesn’t feel like death.” And then his eye went up into his head and he collapsed.
They all raced to him. Sextus put his hand on his neck, “He is still alive. I feel his heart beat. Get a blanket for him.”
Cava shouted. “Pannonians, the Wolf lives!”
In his office Corbulo jumped when he heard the roar from the river. He turned to his aide. “Is that the barbarians?”
The aide raced out and came back. “Yes sir, it is our barbarians, they are cheering.”
The Legate would never understand these barbarians who fought a different way from the Romans; even when they fought on the Roman side!
Chapter 6
The Legate was pleased with the raid. His precious legionaries had survived intact and the only losses had been the ones he could easily afford, the barbarians. Appius Verres, his aide, was also pleased for he hated barbarians more than his general. They smelled and they were uncouth. They were good for one thing and that was dying for the Empire. “Have the Prefects make me a list of soldiers who deserve a phalerae.”
“Even the barbarians?”
“The Emperor says they will become citizens of the Empire, Appius, and the laws apply to them.”
A malicious look spread over the aide’s face like blood from an open wound. “But surely if they are citizens they should have Roman names. Certainly the Gauls do.”
Corbulo smiled, he liked the young aide who attended to his every need, “True, Appius, but they have been in the Empire since the first Caesar. These Pannonians are recent additions.”
“They have had their heads shorn; now we give them a Roman name and then they can have a phalera.”
Corbulo thought about that. It would make life easier than trying to get your tongue around their horrific names. “Good. Send for Prefect Proculus and I will tell him.”
The ala was busy cleaning armour and looking to their horses. Wolf had insisted that he do as the others were doing but the Prefect took him to see the doctor in the legionary camp. To ensure that he did not run away Marius stayed there. The Greek doctor removed the dressing and it was only then that the Prefect could see the extent of the damage. The rock had not been a round pebble but had rough edges and the bruising and scarring ran down Wolf’s cheek. There was no eye, just an angry red socket. The doctor cleaned it up. You are lucky.” He used the Latin word Felix and Wolf looked at Marius for an explanation.