The Emperor Series: Books 1-5

by Conn Iggulden

  ‘Spears!’ Brutus cried at his best volume, launching his own into the air.

  Ten thousand arms jerked forward and then they were reaching for the second at their feet. Before the first wave landed, Brutus knew the Tenth would have two more in the air. The Third were slower, but only by a little, inspired by the example of the veterans and the nervous fear of the attack.

  He had judged it perfectly and the different ranks of the Tenth and Third sent spears in a carpet of whistling iron onto the enemy. Not just the front rank, but most of the first ten went from running warriors to broken corpses in moments. Hundreds died from the first wave, and the men who survived could see the black launch of the second coming at them, even as they urged each other on.

  There was no way to avoid the death from the air. The spears moved in flight to fall in groups or widely apart. One man could be struck with a cluster of them, or a whole charging line destroyed bar one, miraculously untouched. Though the Helvetii ducked under their shields, the heavy iron heads punched through wood and bone into the soft ground beneath. Brutus saw many tribesmen struggle to free their shields, sometimes pinned to others through the overlapping edges. Many of them still lived, but could not rise as their blood poured from them.

  Brutus watched as the attack stuttered to a stop. The third strike did less destruction and they pulled back from the last, running wildly from the men on the hill. The Tenth cheered as the Gauls turned and Brutus looked east for Julius. If he sent in his legions at that moment, they could very well panic the Helvetii into a rout. There was no sign of him.

  The Helvetii re-formed at the edge of the range and began to advance once more over the bodies of their finest.

  ‘These men have never fought a legion of Rome!’ Brutus called to the men around him.

  Some of them smiled, but their eyes were on the advancing hordes that made the broken bodies vanish as they climbed the hill again. A few of the legion spears were tugged from corpses and thrown up at the Tenth, but against the rise of the land, they fell short.

  ‘Ready swords!’ Brutus ordered and for the first time both legions drew their blades and held them high for the sun to catch. Brutus looked around him and raised his head proudly. Let them climb, he thought.

  As they began to pant and blow, the phalanx formations broke apart as the Helvetii neared the Roman lines. The Tenth waited patiently for them, each man standing amongst friends he had known for years. There was no fear in the Roman lines. They stood in perfect formation with the cornicens ready to rotate the front ranks as they tired. They carried swords of hard iron and all along the faces of his men Brutus could see eager anticipation. Some of the legionaries even beckoned to the warriors, urging them on. In a flash of insight, Brutus saw them as the Helvetii did, a wall of men and shields without gaps.

  The first of the Helvetii met the Tenth and were cut down with efficient ferocity. The hard Roman blades chopped into them all along the line, cutting arms and heads free in single blows. The long spears of the Helvetii could not pierce the Roman shields and Brutus exulted at the toll.

  He stood in the third rank of the right and raised his head from the fascination of the carnage to view the position. There was a mass of men struggling to support their comrades and even more were streaming around the hill to flank them. He felt fresh sweat break out on his skin as he looked for Julius once again. The sun was in his eyes at that angle, but he squinted against the glare to the tree line.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ he said aloud.

  Though it would be some time before the Helvetii could surround his men, if they reached the crest behind him the Tenth and Third would have no line of retreat. He groaned aloud in frustration as he saw the small number the Helvetii had left to guard the women and children. An attack at the rear would cause instant panic amongst the warriors.

  The sheer numbers of the charge began to cut gaps in the front rank of the Tenth. The velites were fast and lightly armoured and though they could fight for two hours without a rest, Brutus thought of sending the heavy men in to keep them fresh for the retreat he may have to order. If Julius did not come quickly, Brutus knew he would have to take the legions back to the crest of the hill, fighting every inch of the way. It would be worse when they were followed down naked to the blades of the tribe behind.

  Brutus looked over the heads of his men, his heart pounding with anger. If he survived the retreat, he swore Julius would pay for the destruction of the Tenth. He knew almost all of them after the years in Spain and every death was like a blow.

  Suddenly, in the distance, he saw the silvered lines of Julius’ legions surging onto the plain and he shouted with pleasure and relief. The Helvetii of the column blew horns in warning and Brutus saw their phalanx reserves go out to meet the new threat. More horns sounded on the hill as the tribe halted and looked back at the plain. Brutus roared at them in incoherent triumph as they began to fall back from the Tenth, a gap opening between the armies. There would be no flanking movement then, with every warrior desperate to protect his spoils and his people.

  ‘Tenth and Third!’ Brutus shouted, over and over to his left and right. They were ready for his orders and he raised his arm to sweep down towards the plain.

  ‘Close formation! Archers gather shafts as you find them! Charge Tenth! Charge Third!’

  Ten thousand men moved as one at his word and Brutus thought his chest would burst with pride.

  The Helvetii had no cavalry and Julius sent the extraordinarii out to hammer their lines as they tried desperately to re-form to repel the new attack. As Julius marched with Mark Antony, he watched Octavian guide the lines of horsemen along an oblique angle to the Helvetii phalanxes. At full gallop, each man reached down to the long tube of leather at his leg and drew a thin javelin, releasing it with crushing accuracy. The Helvetii roared and brandished their shields, but Octavian would not close with them until the last spears had gone. By the time Julius reached the rear of the column, the reserves were in chaos and it was no difficulty to clear the last of them.

  At his order, the cornicens sounded the command to double their speed and twenty thousand legionaries broke into the dog trot that could carry them for miles, straight at the enemy. The vast column of the Helvetii followers watched them in silence as they streamed by without even a call. There was no danger from them and Julius thought furiously how he should make the best use of the position.

  The warriors who had attacked the hill were in full panicked flight back to the column by then and Julius smiled as he saw the shining squares of the Tenth and Third coming behind them, their tight formations making them look like silver plates in the dawn sun. The hill was littered with bodies and Julius saw the Helvetii had lost all direction, their phalanxes forgotten. Their fear was weakening them and Julius wanted it to increase. He considered calling the extraordinarii back to harass the column, but at that moment Octavian signalled a charge and the mass of horses formed into a great wedge that hammered into the running warriors. Julius waited until the extraordinarii had disengaged and were wheeling to go in again before he sent the signal to hold their position.

  ‘Ready spears!’ Julius called. He hefted his own in his hand, feeling the solid weight of the wooden stock. Already, he could see the faces of the warriors running at him. There would barely be time for more than one throw before the armies met.

  ‘Spears!’ he shouted, heaving his own into the air.

  The ranks around him blackened the sky with iron and the front lines of the Helvetii were battered down. Before they could recover, the first legions met their charge and smashed through.

  The centurions behind kept up the barrage as each group came into range and Julius roared as they went unstoppably deep into the mass of tribesmen. There were so many of them! His legionaries crushed anything that stood in their path and the advance was so fast that Julius felt a stab of worry that he was inviting a flanking manoeuvre. The cornicens blew his warning to widen the line and behind him the Ariminum legions
spread out to envelop the enemy. The extraordinarii moved out with them, waiting to attack.

  A splash of blood caught Julius in the mouth as he slowed and he spat quickly, rubbing his hand across his face. He called for second spears to be thrown in waves of ten ranks at a time, not even seeing where the iron spikes landed. It was a dangerous practice, as nothing damaged morale more than the weapons falling short into the Roman lines, but Julius needed every advantage to reduce the huge force of the tribe.

  The Helvetii fought with desperate ferocity, trying to get back to their main column, now unprotected behind the Roman legions. Those who were not in the front lines milled like bees at the edges, spreading further out onto the plain. Julius countered with a wider and then wider front, until he had his four legions in a line only six deep, sweeping all before them.

  For a time, Julius could not see much of the battle. He fought as a foot soldier with the others and wished he had stayed on some high outcrop to direct the fighting.

  Brutus spread the Tenth and Third wide to cut off a retreat and both legions hacked their way through while the sun rose and baked them. Boys ran amongst the ranks with leather bags of water for those who had drunk the ration they carried and still they fought on.

  Julius ordered the last two spears his men carried to be thrown blind. On the flat ground, many of them were sent back as fast as they were thrown, but the soft iron heads had bent on impact and they flew poorly, with little strength. Julius saw a man only feet from him reach up to bat one away as it spun at him and Julius heard his arm crack. He began to realise the Helvetii would fight to the last man and summoned the most senior of the Ariminum generals to him.

  General Bericus arrived looking calm and fresh, as if they were engaged in nothing more difficult than a training manoeuvre.

  ‘General,’ Julius said, ‘I want you to take a thousand men and attack the column behind us.’

  Bericus stood slightly stiffer at the order. ‘Sir, I do not believe them to be a threat. I saw only women and children as we passed.’

  Julius nodded, wondering if he would regret having such a decent man leading his soldiers.

  ‘Those are my orders, General. However, you have my permission to make as much noise as you can during the disengage.’

  For a moment, Bericus looked blank, then his lips twitched in understanding.

  ‘We’ll shout like maniacs, sir,’ he said, saluting.

  Julius watched him go and called a messenger to him.

  ‘Tell the extraordinarii they are free to attack as they see fit,’ he said.

  As soon as Bericus reached his lines, Julius saw them shift as the commands were passed down the chain of authority. In only a short while, two cohorts had detached from the battle and their places in the lines were filled. Julius heard them roar as they turned and began a deliberate march back to attack the column. Bericus had taken horns with him and the cornicens kept up a constant racket until there was not a man on the plain who was not aware of the threat they posed.

  At first, the warriors of the Helvetii fought with renewed energy, but the extraordinarii had resumed their scything strikes on the wing and Roman discipline held the wild charges of the tribesmen. Suddenly they were despairing, dreading the sight of the legion lines cutting into the naked column.

  A distant cheer went up and Julius craned to see the cause. He ordered the maniples to rotate the velites back to the front and went with them, gasping with weariness. How long had they been fighting? The sun seemed to have frozen overhead.

  The cheering intensified on the left wing, but though it brought him hope, Julius found himself faced with two men who were using their shields to batter the Roman line. He had a glimpse of a mouth ringed in white spittle before he lunged forward and felt his gladius sink into flesh. The first fell screaming and Mark Antony cut his throat as they marched over him. The second was knocked from his feet by a legionary and Julius heard his ribs crack as the soldier dropped his weight onto a knee, caving in the chest. As the legionary stood, the Helvetii threw down their weapons in a great crash that stunned the ears and stood, panting and dazed. Julius ordered the halt with grim pleasure and looked back over the plain to the mass of bodies left behind them. There was more flesh than grass and only the two Roman cohorts moved over the red ground.

  A great low wail went up from the column of followers as they saw the surrender and again Julius heard cheering, recognising it now as the voices of the Tenth and Third. Julius took the bronze horn from the nearest cornicen and blew a falling note to stop Bericus before he could begin his attack. They halted in perfect formation as the sound carried to them and Julius smiled. Whatever else went against him, he could not complain at the quality of the legions he commanded.

  Julius paused then, removing his helmet and turning his face into the breeze. He sent the call for centurions and optios to gather the men back into their units. It had to be done quickly and sometimes brutally, if the surrender was to hold. Army tradition held that the slave price of captured enemy soldiers would be shared between the legions, which tended to prevent massacres of those who surrendered. Yet in the battle rage, Julius knew many of his legionaries would think nothing of cutting down an unarmed foe, especially if that man had just wounded them. Julius had the cornicens sound the halt over and over until it penetrated and some semblance of order began to come back to the plain.

  Spears and swords were collected and removed from the battlefield, guarded by the extraordinarii as they reassembled. The Helvetii warriors were made to kneel and had their arms tied behind them. Those who asked were given water by the same boys who served the legions and Julius began to gather them into lines of prisoners, moving amongst his men, congratulating where it was due and simply being seen.

  The legionaries walked with stiff pride as they surveyed the numbers of prisoners and dead. They knew they had beaten a far larger force and Julius was pleased to see one of his men calling a water boy over to a bound warrior, holding the bronze pipe to his lips for him.

  As Julius passed through them, assessing the losses, the Romans stared in the hope of catching his eye and when they were successful they nodded as respectfully as children.

  Brutus came cantering up on a horse he had found, its rider amongst the dead.

  ‘What a victory, Julius!’ he called, leaping from the saddle.

  The soldiers around him gestured and whispered to each other as they recognised his silver armour and Julius grinned at the awe in their faces. He had thought wearing the silver into battle was dangerous, given that the metal was so much softer than good iron, but Brutus had kept it, saying it raised the men’s spirits to fight with the best of a generation.

  Julius chuckled at the memory.

  ‘I was pleased to see you on the plain. I can’t tell you,’ Brutus said.

  Julius looked sharply at him, sensing the question. A smile played about his lips as he called for the scout to be summoned and Brutus raised his eyebrows when he saw the miserable Roman with his hands tied as tightly as the prisoners. The young man had been forced to march with the legions, an optio’s staff thudding into his back every time he slowed. Julius was pleased he had survived and with the glow of victory on him, he decided against having the man whipped as he almost certainly deserved.

  ‘Untie him,’ Julius said to the scout’s optio, who did so with a swift jerk of a knife. The scout looked as if he was close to tears as he struggled to stand to attention before his general and the winner of the sword tournament in Rome.

  ‘This young gentleman brought me a report that the enemy had taken the hill I ordered you to climb. In the darkness, he mistook two good Roman legions for a mass of tribesmen.’

  Brutus broke into a guffaw of delighted amusement.

  ‘You didn’t fall back? Julius, that is …’ he broke off to laugh and Julius turned a mock severe expression on the desolate young scout.

  ‘Have you any idea how difficult it is to build a reputation as a tactical genius if I
am seen retreating from my own men?’ he asked.

  ‘I am sorry, sir. I thought I heard Gaulish voices,’ the scout stammered. He was flushed with confusion.

  ‘Yes, that would have been my lot,’ Brutus said, cheerfully. ‘That is why you carry a password, son. You should have called before haring home.’

  The young scout began to smile in response and Brutus’ expression changed instantly.

  ‘Of course, if you’d delayed the attack much longer, I would be taking a skinning knife to you.’

  The sickly grin died on the scout’s face.

  ‘Three months’ pay docked and you scout on foot until your optio is certain you can be trusted with a horse,’ Julius added.

  The young man breathed out in relief, not daring to look at Brutus as he saluted and left. Julius turned to Brutus and they shared a smile.

  ‘It was a good plan,’ Brutus said.

  Julius nodded, calling for a horse. As he mounted, he looked over the battlefield, seeing the beginnings of order return as Roman wounds were stitched and splinted and bodies readied for funeral pyres. He would have the worst of the wounded taken back to the Roman province for treatment. The armour of those who had died would be sold off for replacements. The gaps left by dead officers would be filled by promotions from the ranks, signed by his hand. The world was turning the right way up and the heat of the day was beginning to fade.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Julius sat on a folding stool in the great tent of the Helvetii king and drank from a golden cup. The mood was light amongst the men he had summoned. The Ariminum generals in particular had been drinking heavily from the king’s private stores and Julius had not stopped them. They had earned the right to rest, though the work ahead was still daunting. Julius had not appreciated at first how large a task it would be simply to catalogue the baggage, and the night was loud with the sound of soldiers counting and piling the Helvetii possessions. He had sent Publius Crassus with four cohorts to begin retrieving spears and weapons from the battlefield. It was not a glorious task, but the son of the former consul had gathered his men quickly and without fuss, showing something of his father’s ability for organisation.