by Griff Hosker
They were heading for the hills which rose steeply towards the west. They were hardly mountains although Marius could see the steep and rocky sections which would be impassible to all but mountain goats. The smoke from the fires of the legion and the auxiliaries marked their destination. At least there were no mighty rivers like the Rhenus. It looked like his men would be able to cross all the rivers they had seen by swimming for they were less than fifty paces wide. At least their experience against the Chauci would stand them in good stead.
Cerialis gestured him forwards, “You get your men to build a camp over there, close to the river. You will need an early night for I want your two wings to spread out and find me the Brigante.”
Marius would have to rely on Osgar and his knowledge of the land which meant that it would be Decurion Lupus Ulpius Felix who would have to take the point and, despite the Legate’s intentions, they would have to stay within close proximity.
Wolf and Gerjen were staring to the west. “It looks different from anything I have ever seen before.”
“I know Gerjen. The Allfather has made all the lands different. The Prefect told me that there are lands to the south of the Roman sea which are made up of nothing but sand, no grass, no water, just sand.”
“What do horses eat?”
“I know not but he told me they have a beast there called a camel which is bigger than a horse and carries its water inside it on its back and they have another beast which is taller than the gatehouse at the fort and it has two mighty teeth and a long snake coming from its head and it can crush men.”
Had it been anyone but Wolf telling him this then Gerjen would have doubted the words but the Prefect and Wolf did not lie. The world they lived in was strange indeed. “I hope there are none of those beasts here.”
Wolf nodded his agreement. He pointed to the tendril of smoke coming from beyond the fort, close by the river. “If there are any then Osgar will smell them out.”
“He is a strange one but I like him. He reminds me of the shaman from the village.”
Wolf suddenly remembered the old shaman. “You are right I had forgotten him. Yes and he seems to have the same ability to see into the mind.” He told him about the Wolf and Gerjen looked up proudly at the Wolf standard which he had made and carried still.
It was dark when they dismantled the camp. Marius and Flavius stood with Wolf and Horse. “You need to sweep the land before us and spot the enemy before they spot you. Wolf will have Osgar and that may give us an advantage. If you see the enemy then send a man here and trail them.”
Cava looked troubled. “I am sorry sir but if these Brigantes are dressed like Wolf’s scout they will see us with all this red, a long time before we see them.”
“I know Decurion but this is not the forests of Germania and I do not think that we are in as much danger of ambush.”
“Yes sir.” As they left to join their men Horse rolled his eyes heavenward. “That is the trouble with this army, not flexible enough.”
“Don’t worry old friend. My Osgar will sniff them out believe me.”
Osgar trotted ahead of Wolf like a dog. He would pause and look at the ground and then shake his head. He took them, not up the faintest of trails but across the rough moor land. Behind him Wolf hear Gaius cursing. “Don’t worry Gaius we will find them.”
“I am more worried about my horse breaking a leg.”
“You know that won’t happen.”
By mid morning they had ascended one side of the hills. Osgar had kept them below the sky line. He came over to Wolf. “Leave your horse and come with me.” He grinned, “That is, if a wolf can walk on two legs.”
“Gaius, take over. I won’t be long.”
Osgar pushed him to the ground when they were thirty paces from the top and they slithered forwards on their bellies. Osgar tapped the Decurion’s helmet and Wolf took it off. It annoyed him for the straps were tight but he also recognised that it made sense. They moved forwards in minute movements until just their eyes peered over. At first Wolf saw nothing then Osgar directed his head to the north and west and he detected movement. He kept watching and, what Wolf had taken to be the shadow of a cloud moving across the moor tops became clearer and he could see it was men. They had found the enemy. He was about to slither back down when Osgar grabbed his hand. He pointed and there a mile away and just riding up to the ridge top he could see flashes of red. It was Cava. His first thought was to shout a warning for, once he rode to the top of the ridge he would be seen and the enemy army was less than six hundred yards from him.
As they slid down Osgar said, “They will get him. Your friend is dead.”
Racing back to his horse Wolf shouted, “You don’t know my friend. Tiberius, ride back to the column and warn the Legate, the Brigantes are over the rise. “Tiberius needed no urging and galloped off. “Titus, you stay with Osgar and watch the army, let me know it they change direction.” He leapt on his horse and fastened his helmet.
“What are we doing then sir?”
”We are going to save the Decurion from being slaughtered by the Brigantes he is there.” Wolf pointed towards the hidden ridge and he galloped off his turma trailing in his wake.
Osgar looked up at Titus. “Take your helmet off!”
“Decurion Paterculus!”
“Yes Lucius?”
“Barbarians, fucking hundreds of them over the other side of the ridge.” The terrified young trooper had been on point and even as he reported Cava saw the Brigante horsemen screaming over the ridge.
”Retreat, back to the column. Drusus you take the lead.” The Chosen Man galloped off head held low over his horse’s neck. Cava slid his shield around to cover most of his back. He did not know if they had bows or if they were any good with them but he would take no chances. He too rode low to his horse and when something pinged from his shield he knew that they did have arrows. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that there were almost a hundred of them on fast little ponies and they were now gaining on them. To his horror he saw Sextus, one of the older warriors suddenly pitch over his horse’s head as it caught a rabbit hole. The sharp crack told the Decurion that one of his men had gone to the Allfather. Now the arrows were striking closer and a glance told the Pannonian that they would be caught before they could reach the column. He stared ahead, desperate for some refuge. He saw a cleft of rocks. It would give them somewhere to make a stand. “Drusus! Head for the rocks.” He saw Drusus peer ahead and then wave his acknowledgment. “Get ready lads when we reach the rocks turn and throw a javelin. They might not expect that.”He wondered if they did have a chance, if every javelin struck home they would win but that assumed that the Brigante would just be taking casualties and not inflicting them. The trooper next to him fell from the saddle with an arrow in his leg. Cava turned and saw a tattooed and blue painted grinning warrior raising his bow to loose an arrow at him. He took his javelin and hurled it, more in desperation and hope than expectation but he was so close that the javelin plucked him from his saddle and there was daylight once more. He saw that the others had turned and had formed a mounted shield wall. He reined back hard and his horse almost pirouetted to join the right of the line. He saw a line of warriors hurtling down towards them. They were so close that the Romans would only get one javelin off each and then it would be close quarters.
“Ready! Loose!”
Twenty five saddles emptied. “Draw spatha!” The long swords came out and the two lines of horses collided. The rocks behind prevented the Romans from being bowled over but it was close in work. As Cave took the head from a warrior he reflected that their only advantage was the fact that these warriors did not use armour or shields. Any wound would be deadly. As two more men fell he wondered how long they would last and then he saw to his surprise the man before him fall with a javelin in his back and then he realised that there were Romans attacking the rear of the line. They were brave men but they stood little chance and the final twenty raced back up the hill.
Cava saw Wolf grinning at him. “Thought you needed a hand.”
“Where did you come from?
“We saw them from below the ridge but they didn’t see us. Titus and Osgar are watching them. I think we had better follow the Legate’s orders then and watch them.”
“What about them?” Cava pointed to the departing Brigante.
“We can head parallel with the ridge and then head up. My man should have made the column. The Prefect will reach us soon.”
As they reached Osgar and Titus they could see that the enemy warband had turned to climb the ridge. The two officers could see that they did it fast quicker than a Roman army could have done so. It arrived disordered but the general, they presumed it was Venutius, arrayed his forces along the ridge.
“Look! Chariots!”
They could see a handful of chariots on the flanks with a milling mass of horsemen. The general was not willing to give up the high ground. Both Wolf and Cava knew that the impetus gained by charging downhill was immeasurable, and the chariots would travel even faster. “What do we do when they see us?”
“Good question Decurion Felix. If we follow our orders then we continue to watch them.”
Wolf looked to their left where the ground. It looked to be rocky and difficult for cavalry. “If we go down there then they can outflank us with the cavalry and their infantry pick us off. If we cross the ridge, well we are cut off and if we go down there then they will be between us and the ala.”
“We are literally between a rock and a hard place. Are there any ideas to get us out of here flitting around that young mind of yours?”
Wolf grinned and suddenly looked like the young boy who had joined up years before. “If we go back the way we came then they will charge after us and try to cut us off.”
“So far this plan is not filling me with optimism.”
“Bear with me. If we are going down the slope then we will have the same advantage that their horsemen do and we know that the Prefect will be bringing the ala and the army. We can lead them into a trap.”
“There are a lot of ifs and maybes in that plan. Suppose the Legate brings the ala at the same speed as the foot.”
“Then we are screwed.” Wolf waved along the ridgeline. “This is not Germania with forests and river barriers. If anything it is a greener version of home. We have nowhere to hide and we are outnumbered.”
“You are right and what about Osgar?”
“Osgar can answer for himself.” Sniffed the Brigante scout. “You go back to your army and I will join you there.”
“He will be there Cava.”
“Right Pannonians, column of twos. Decurion Felix, bring up the rear. You have the best horse.”
Wolf grinned. “Don’t worry about me. Remember my name! I am lucky!”
The line set off at a steady trot down the slope at an oblique angle to the Brigante. As they had both expected the cavalry and the chariots set off to cut them off. At the rear Wolf could see how quickly they moved the small wheels bouncing off the ground. The men in the chariots were skilled drivers, he could see that. They began to move ahead of the horses and Wolf could see no blades on the wheels; it had been a thought which had terrified him. He felt as strongly about Blackie, his horse as he did about his men and he did not want her legs ripped to shreds. He hoped that Marius and Flavius had left the column as soon as they had received the message for the main army was at least two miles behind them. Suddenly arrows began to fly, somewhat erratically, from the chariots. He saw one of Cava’s men fall from his horse as his horse was struck. The rocky slope was littered with death traps for anyone who fell and the trooper died. The same rocks which killed the cavalryman saved Wolf and those at the back as the chariots had to veer to their left to avoid them. It bought them time and that was their most precious defence.
At the head of the column Cava was trying to pick the quickest and safest route down the hillside. He saw that it bottomed out into a natural bowl and he headed for it. The line meant he had to travel a little close to the front of the Brigante riders but as they were coming from the left it gave them the best protection for they carried their shields on their left arms. The chariots at the front began to loose their arrows and soon there was a regular crack and ping as they struck helmets and shields. An occasional cry told Cava that a leg or arm had been struck but, glancing over his shoulder he saw that there was still just one casualty. As soon as he reached the bowl he veered left and he hoped that the chariot drivers would be slower to react. As he flicked a glance over his shoulder he saw that he was wrong; they skilfully tugged on the reins and the bowman leaned to one side to facilitate the turn. The Decurion’s horse was tiring and he wondered if they ought to turn and fight as they had done before, but all there was before him was a slight slope at the other side of the natural bowl. Perhaps the slight slope would slow up the chariots. He would have to see what the land was like on the other side of the rise. Suddenly he saw a flicker of red which appeared and then disappeared. He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him and then the red became an uneven line and the ala appeared in a long line over the ridge. He glanced behind and saw that the Brigantes had slowed up. They, too, were forming a line.
“Ride through the ala and reform behind.” He saw Flavius and Marius at the front and they had left a gap wide enough for the column to pass through. As he approached he grinned and shouted, “Couldn’t wait for you sir. Thought we would bring them to you!”
He saw Flavius grinning although the Prefect was checking their line. As he slowed to rejoin the line he saw the main army about a mile away lumbering along. At the same time he hear, “Javelins!”
Marius and the ala outnumbered the horse and the chariots, but not by much and the speed the Brigante had built up meant that they would hit the Pannonians at some speed. “Make gaps to let the chariots go through. Aim for the horses!” Suddenly they met with a mighty class of metal on wood as javelins were hurled and arrows loosed. The Brigante charioteers aimed their horses at the ala which quickly found that they were fighting for their lives. Wolf and his men had rejoined the line and four chariots emerged through the gaps at them. Tiberius fell with an arrow in his throat and Wolf hurled his javelin at the driver. The archer had slung his bow to aim at Wolf but the driverless chariot hit a rock and the man was catapulted into the air while the chariot crashed into the next one spilling the driver and the archer. Wolf hung low in his saddle and swung the spatha back. The archer was turning with his bow when the blade sliced upwards to split him from the crotch to the throat. He wheeled the horse around just as the charioteer had bravely pulled his dagger out to continue to fight. His defence soon ended. Wolf glanced up at the line of troopers. It was still holding. Just then he heard the thunder of hooves on the turf behind him as the Tribune rode up with his turma. As he rode by Spurius winked at Wolf. “Still lucky eh son?”
Gnaeus Celsus halted his troopers. “Form line!” He kicked his horse to stand next to Marius and Gerjen who were behind the front rank. “Well done Marius. The Legate wants you to split your ala and protect the flanks. He is sending the foot sloggers to attck up the middle.”
“Attack uphill?”
“Don’t worry the barbarians will break themselves against the Ninth. I have seen it before. I will take the right flank.”
“I will send Flavius there. Decurion Princeps, on my command take turmae fifteen to thirty to the right flank.” He turned in his saddle. “Felix, Paterculus on my command take command of the left flank with Turmae one to fourteen.”
“Sir.”
“Ready Serjenus?”
Gerjen grinned, “I was born ready sir.”
“The ala will divide, now! Disengage.” Gerjen waved the standard and every trooper threw his javelin and then retreated either to the left or the right. There were few cavalry and chariots left and the ones that were retreated themselves as the gap appeared and there, less than a thousand paces away tramped the Ninth legion protected on its f
lanks by the Gauls.
The Brigante commander, Venutius, marked by a golden looking helmet with a white plume, must have thought that he had the Romans where he wanted them and he raised his sword to launch his wild Brigante down the slope. They hurtled in an uncontrolled mass. The ala barely had time to evade as the barbarians raced to be the first to take a Roman head. The few cavalry who remained charged the ala but their horses were blown and it was a coming together rather than a clash of arms. The longer swords of the ala and their shields soon eliminated the threat of the cavalry but the Brigante outnumbered the five thousand Romans who locked shields to meet them. On the right they heard the Tribune take charge. “Into their flanks!”
On the Roman left Marius repeated the order and the horsemen closed with the barbarians at the sides of the warband. Although unarmoured they hacked at the legs of the horses and when the troopers fell at their feet they were hacked to death. Wolf had trained Blackie to be aggressive and he pulled back on the reins and the powerful steed crashed his hooves into the skulls of the men who were attempting to hit him. The ala was, at best, holding its own but at the cutting edge of the attack the First Cohort was slashing and stabbing its way uphill. The Brigantes were minced into a pulp by the relentless war machine that was the legion. The Ninth had fought them before and knew they could beat them. When the braver, better warriors at the front fell there was a sea change and some of the warriors from the rear began to retreat. Venutius was busily engaged with the cavalry but he soon saw the retreat begin and they heard him shout something. The warband suddenly disintegrated and ran back across the hill. The ones at the front who were still engaged carried on fighting, buying their comrades time and by the time they were dead, the Brigante army, still with substantial numbers was silhouetted against the skyline. The ala and the Tribune’s horse were exhausted and in no condition to continue the pursuit. The ala gathered their wounded while the legion ruthlessly despatched the wounded.