by Griff Hosker
Lucius was busy tying a bandage around the gushing wound. “Sorry sir!”
“Don’t worry Spurius; we got further than I thought we would.”
The barbarians threw themselves at the Romans. A bearded warrior with a bare chest and armed with a double handed axe hurled himself at Wolf, aiming the fearsome weapon at the red crest which marked him as an officer. The Decurion thrust his shield up and felt his hole arm go numb as the blade sliced a chunk out of the wood. The gladius is a stabbing weapon but the spatha held in Wolf’s right hand swept around in a long arc and slicing through the left arm of the warrior. It did not stop at the bone but crunched through it. The warrior was brave but with no tendons his left hand lost the grip on the axe. As Felix pulled back his sword for a second blow he punched with the boss of his shield and the wounded warrior fell backwards. The spatha pierced his neck and Ulpius Felix looked for his next enemy. There were many of them and they were like a wasps’ nest which has been disturbed. They threw themselves at the invaders. A shield wall needs integrity to hold and they had that integrity. Each trooper defended the one to their left. They were no longer the wild barbarians of the plains, they fought for their comrades and with a discipline which the Chauci, brave though they were, could not match. Suddenly they heard and felt the thunder of hooves as the rest of the ala slashed into the flanks of the wild warband.
Flavius’ voice roared out, “Now push them back!”
Each trooper roared his own war cry and they punched and slashed with their swords. They were not as effective as a gladius would have been and were intended to be used on horseback but their long reached matched the axes of their enemies and soon they were climbing over the piles of the dead. “Vexillation halt!”
Flavius halted them when it became obvious that the enemy were fleeing; the few survivors were pursued by the whooping ala. The men of the four turmae took to despatching the dead and tending to the wounded.
The Prefect sought out Aulus who had been itching for some chance to have half of the honour of the others. ”Aulus take your turma and circle the enemy, find the Legate and report to him.”
“Yes sir. Right you fannies of the sixth disengage and follow me.”
The men of the turma had come to like and respect the foul mouthed disciplinarian. “Sir, yes sir!” chorused through the forest.
To the south of the stronghold the men of the Gallic cohort had learned to respect the axes of the barbarians and, as Wolf had found out discovered that their lighter shields were no match for the sharp blades. Decimus Bucco was terrified for the Legate insisted upon keeping as close to the forward cohorts as possible. The shield and sword he had seemed inadequate somehow for the brutal world he found himself in and the sword lessons paid for by his senator father were nothing like the combats he had witnessed. The L:egat turned to him. Tell the Legate of the Fifth to bring up his men. It is time we gave the auxiliaries some respite.”
Delighted to be away from the death and the blood the aide raced to the legion which trudged along. “Sir, the Legate says can you take your men forward and relieve the Gauls.”
“Thank you son. First Spear? Take the First cohort forward.”
“About fucking time too. “First cohort. Column of fours! Double time!”
The steel behemoth moved surprisingly quickly and reached the Gallic line before Decimus had reached the Legate. “First century. Form line.” The double century quickly formed a deadly shield wall.”
The Legate turned to the signifier. “Sound fall back for the Gauls.”
The Gallic Prefect was pleased to hear the recall; he had lost too many men already. “Disengage!”
As the Gauls fell back and slipped through the Firth which opened ranks, the Chauci thought they were retreating and that they had won. They roared forwards screaming their war cries. They ran straight into the spears of the elite First Century. Fist spear stood to the right of the line with just his gladius and shield. “Like lambs to the slaughter. Remember lads, no prisoners! Gut the bastards!” The roar told him that they were getting revenge for the attack on their comrades and they were getting it with relish! The Chauci attack soon faltered and they fell back. As they neared the stronghold Herrmann emerged with his last ten thousand warriors, his reserves who were both fresh and ferocious.
Corbulo saw in an instant that he could deploy his two legions in the classic style side by side. He turned to the cavalrymen next to him. “I want the two legions next to each other and tell the Gallic Prefect to split his men and defend the flanks of the legions.”
The highly trained legions quickly deployed although the Prefect was less than happy about having to move his men so far. They had just made it when the huge warband struck. This time they had built up momentum and they hit in a solid mass. They may not have been shoulder to shoulder but they had weight, bulk and most importantly, anger. The front ranks of the two legions were forced back a few paces. Bucco was almost cowering, terrified behind the legate but he could hear the centurions urging the men to stand. Their voices and their hectoring worked and the lines stabilised. It now became a battle between two lines. The Romans had their shields for protection and they stabbed through any gap to gut, slash and hamstring the Chauci but the barbarians had weight of numbers and weight of weapons. The warriors who wielded the two handed hammers shatter shields and arms, causing gaps to appear. The Roman lines began, inexorably to move backwards. The Chauci who had retreated now rejoined their comrades and the numbers were swollen. Gradually the Gauls on the flanks began to take casualties and were squeezed in.
Corbulo himself began to worry that he might lose the battle when suddenly a wail of despair came from the Chauci right flank the Gauls managed to push their enemies back. “What is it Tribune?”
The Tribune who was taller peered in the distance and then turned with a joyous expression on his face. “It is the ala, they have charged the flank.”
Marius and his ala were in two long lines and savagely slashing and hacking into the backs of the Chauci. They had nowhere to go and were hemmed in by the Gauls, their fellows and the legions. They could not turn and fight and they were slaughtered by the troopers who could not believe that they had got so close before they were detected. The legionaries felt the easing of pressure and the centurions roared their orders, “Push!”
The Chauci tried to hold but, as the ones at the back, who could, fled it was like a dam being burst and all semblance of order went. The Roman lines kept coming forwards scything down any brave enough to stand. Corbulo punched his fist with glee. “We have them! Now Germania Inferior is safe!”
By the time the prisoners had been tied to each other and the wounded despatched, the men of the ala were exhausted. They had been victorious but it had been at a cost. Thirty of their troopers lay dead whilst another five would never fight again. They could fight, as Wolf did without an eye but arms and legs were more vital to a soldier than the ability to see. Even Corbulo was forced to grudgingly praise the efforts of the ala although he did so with ill grace.
“I believe my orders were to catch any refugees who fled north weren’t they Prefect?”
The Gallic Prefect and the Legate of the Fifth both rolled their eyes but Marius shrugged, “Technically sir we obeyed orders. We had the stronghold surrounded but I took the opportunity of aiding my auxiliary brothers.”
“For which we are in your debt Prefect.”
Corbulo sniffed, “Well I suppose we had better start back for Colonia Claudia. Oh I forgot to mention that is to be my new headquarters. Much better than the disease ridden one we left. The Fifteenth will remain here with me.”
If he thought the other three commanders would be upset he did not see the smiles as he left with the green faced Bucco.
Chapter 8
Castra Vetera 53 A.D
Decurion Lupus Ulpius Felix looked back on the last two years with satisfaction. Since the Legate had shifted his headquarters up the river to Colonia Claudia life had become much easi
er for the ala. The Fifth, the Gauls and the Pannonians worked well together having shared in the hardest fighting against the Chauci. Without the Legate’s beady eye they were able to interpret his orders in creative ways. They used the appropriate skills for the task so that when they were asked to finally subjugate the Frisii the auxiliaries cleared the enemy whilst the Legion built the forts and then the Gauls took over the garrisons. The land of the Frisii was pacified within months and with barely a casualty on each side. The Navarchus was happy to ferry over the ala to conduct long ranging patrols in the land which took them as far as the borders to the north. Had he known, the Emperor Claudius would have been happy that the Empire and its influence was expanding north. The Emperor, however, had his own problems. The rumours which reached the frontier was that there were many plots against Claudius’ life and many enemies had been purged. To Wolf it did not matter, he was happy performing his job. He missed the action which had been so intense a bare two years ago but he had settled into a routine with his men.
Felix had learned the lessons of the various combats he had fought. All of the officers had noticed that the spatha was only a useful weapon whilst mounted and on foot could become more difficult to use. The ala began to learn how to fight on foot. In this the Gauls proved most useful as they were magnificent swordsmen. Wolf became close to one of the centurions, Vexus Cilo. The Second Turma had managed to rescue Cilo and his men from a Chauci ambush the previous year and a friendship had formed.
“The problem with this Roman equipment Lupus, is that it is made for one purpose. In my case the gladius is a stabbing weapon. It works well in a shield wall, the way the legions fight but sometimes we don’t fight like that which is why my men have a longer sword we can use. Why don’t you carry a gladius as well?”
“The weight Vexus.”
The Gaul had laughed, “You have a bloody great horse don’t you? Put a scabbard on the saddle for your spatha and carry a gladius on your baldric.”
When he found it worked, he then spent hours with the centurion honing his skills with the short Spanish sword. It required different skills. “You see you need to stab with this. It is short so you can strike upwards and it is wider than your spatha so when you cut it causes nasty injuries, far worse than your long swords. Remember most of these barbarians have no armour. When we fight men with armour it is much harder.”
Ulpius Felix had laughed. “It doesn’t seem that long ago we were the barbarians, what was it Decurion Spurius called us, ‘hairy arsed barbarians’? Well he was right. If I rode into my village they wouldn’t recognise me.”
“You never go back. I did once and it was hard. The filth and the dirt… you get used to clean clothes, baths, water you can drink. And when you do go back the ones who remain look at you as though you are a leper or someone who has betrayed them. No we have made our beds now.”
“Well I am happier here than I was at home.”
The ala would have happily finished their tour in Germania Inferior had events in Britannia not caused a huge change and upheaval. Caractacus had been captured after the Queen of the Brigante had handed him over to her allies. Her protection had been ensured but her husband, Venutius had tried to take over her throne and the ala was needed to bolster the troops which were stretched too thinly across the new wild frontier. The Legate did not bring the orders himself but sent the unpopular Bucco. Marius had remembered his look at the battle and now, the smug self satisfied look was gone when the aide faced the three Prefects and Legate Labeo. He looked less self assured and was more hesitant.
“The Legate is pleased with the work you have done and it is now time for the Fist Pannonians to aid Governor Gallus and subjugate Britannia. You will sail with the Classis Germania to Rutupiae and then travel north to Lindum where you will support the Ninth Hispana in their new campaign.”
As soon as he had scurried away Labeo voiced the opinion of all of them, “Prick! We’ll be sorry to see you go Marius and we will miss your horsemen.”
“I know sir. It seems a mistake to take away the only cavalry in this region but at least we will be working with the Ninth and six of my officers served with them.”
The Gallic Prefect was less sure. “Without your horse we can patrol less of the land and without the patrols who knows what the bastards are up to?” When the Batavi revolted some years later the Gaul’s words were proved prophetic; not that it did him much good as his body was hacked to pieces as he defended his standard.
As they sailed west they were all sharing a mixture at regret in leaving somewhere they had become comfortable mixed with the excitement of action and the pleasure of being reunited with some old friends. The journey across the Oceanus Germanicus was short but it was far from pleasant. None of the Pannonians had ever seen the sea before and the storm clouds on the day they left meant that they felt as though they were sailing towards the end of the world. The pitching of the ships made them all ill, much to the delight of the marines and sailors on board. As they sailed past the white cliffs which marked the river and the entrance to the port of Rutupiae they all vowed that they would die in Britannia rather than risk the voyage back; sadly their wish came true. The fort at Rutupiae was the strongest in Britannia and they had to spend a night there for their horses to recover and for Marius to be briefed by the Camp Prefect. There were maps to be copied and equipment to be replaced. This was further north than Germania and the Prefect had a wicked smile when he issued the extra blankets. “Believe me Prefect. Your men will need these. I have never been in such a cold country and you will be further north. It either snows or rains almost every day!”
Marius spent the latter part of the day briefing all of the officers. “We head towards Londinium here along the Via Claudia. It will the busiest road we travel along but there are plenty of places along it to gather any supplies we need. From Londinium we head north. The Via Claudia travels west and we go on the road they are calling Fossa Lindum but the Prefect told me the soldiers call it the Via Hades.” He gave a wry smile. “I think we can work out what that will be like.”
“What about the tribes then sir?”
“Well most of them arte happy little bunnies with villas and baths. In fact the Iceni king, Prasutagus, is a big fan of ours, just like Cartimandua. Once we get to Lindum then we can expect trouble. The Brigantes have a Queen, Cartimandua, she is an ally of the EMperror. Met him apparently and she likes all things Rome. Her husband, Venutius, sees himself, according to the Prefect as the new Caractacus. You know the hero who will rid his land of the Romans. He is busy trying to remove his wife and then raise the Brigantes against us.”
“What sort of troops do they have over here?”
“Much like the Gauls. They like long swords, they don’t wear much armour, they have horses but they are a bit small and ,oh yes, you will like this they still use chariots and some of them have scythes along the wheels.”
Decurion Aulus Murgus snorted, “If they are anything like the ones we encountered in the east they are easy to avoid. They can’t turn and they won’t have armour to protect them. Bring them on!”
The officers all laughed. They had grown into each other and accepted the foibles and character traits of their peers. “We shouldn’t have any problems until we reach Lindum. That is the end of the province although, as I said, the Brigantes are our allies and their land ia buffer for us.”
“Who is further north sir?”
“Good question Felix. The Carvetii, that is the tribe of Venutius and after that they are the Pictii. Blue painted barbarians who terrify even the natives.”
“Just like being at home then?”
“Except that we don’t speak their language. I know the lads did well with learning Roman but we need to speak with the Brigante. The Prefect suggested we hire a Brigante scout who can teach us the language.”
The Prefect was right and they made excellent time as they travelled north. They camped north of Londinium which gave Marius and Flavius the opportunity of ob
serving the land through which they travelled. “It looks like flat farmland.”
“It does sir. I am surprised that they haven’t sent us here earlier. It is perfect cavalry country. Better than the swamps of Germania.”
“I think Corbulo hung on to us as long as possible. Despite what he said to our faces I heard he took all the credit for our successes.”
“He was a prick.”
“When you have survived in this army as long as I have you will find out that good senior officers are few and far between. Apparently even Caesar was a bit of a bastard and he could waste men’s lives needlessly.”
“Aye but at least he fought with his men.”
“True. I don’t think Corbulo was a coward. He never flinched when the Chauci got close to him.”
Back in the camp Gerjen and Wolf were comparing the land of Britannia with Germania and Pannonia. “I tell you what Wolf, it is green. Have you ever seen such a green country? And the farms?”
Gerjen had grown up since becoming aquilifer. He was not a leader but he was fiercely loyal and, for him, the standard represented his friend Wolf. When Wolf had lost his eye Gerjen had prayed that he would not have to leave the army; he did not know what he would do without his friend.
“But the towns Gerjen. They look like proper towns and we have only been here for ten years. The Romans conquered our land over fifty years ago and it hasn’t changed. I guess the people here must like the idea of Rome. Perhaps our job will be an easy one again.”