by Griff Hosker
Cerialis thumped the table. “Excellent!” He turned to the other prefects and commanders in the room. Here is our plan of attack.” He looked at Prefect Strabo. “The second Batavians have suffered the most casualties and I have a special role for them. Do not dismantle the camps. Strabo your men will occupy those camps and use them as forts.”
“But sir any enemy attacking the rear could roll right over them.”
“I know which is why you will dig a ditch between each one and put stakes behind. The ones closest to the rivers can be connected. It won’t be a complete line but it will break up any attack. Anything which slows them down will work in our favour. The legions need time. The auxiliaries will buy them that time, with their lives if necessary. I am gambling gentlemen on breaking through their lines. To do that I need to use every man I have. Our weak spot is our rear. The ford we crossed is to the east and the other river looks like it cannot be forded. Prefect Strabo; even if you lose every man you must stop any enemy attacking the rear. Understood?”
Furius stiffened, “Yes sir. We will hold.”
“Good man.”
“Prefect Sura your men will form a skirmish line in front of the legions. You have to buy the artillery time to get close enough to do damage.”
“Yes sir.”
“Prefect Demetrius, one ala will support the Batavians. I would suggest Decurion Princeps Maximunius; he seems to work well with the infantry.” The prefect was about to object when the general continued, “I would like the other ala to charge and despatch their cavalry, if our legions have any Achilles heel it is cavalry. You can eliminate them. Right?”
The chance to charge enemy cavalry appealed to the equestrian Patrician and he snapped out a, “Yes sir. We will don’t worry.”
“Julius I will manoeuvre the legions you get the artillery as close to their front lines as possible.”
“Yes sir. I think that is all. “He looked at them all one by one. “It is no exaggeration when I say that the fate of the province lies in our hands. Every legionary, every trooper must perform at a higher standard than ever before if we are to succeed. When we do it I will see that every man is rewarded and each of you will receive honours.”
Dawn had broken some time earlier but still the enemy remained in their serried ranks. On their right the mailed horsemen looked magnificent. Marcus had tried to persuade the prefect to use archers to break them up but he was convinced he could rout them with a charge. Marcus was not too certain but he had his own problems. The ground in front of him was a little boggy. Not enough to slow his horses down but sticky enough to make wheeling difficult. The warbands in front of him were a riot of both colour and weapons. He could see very long spears, swords and shields, double handed axes, and even war hammers. There looked to be an eclectic mixture of tribes with Carvetii mixed in with Brigante and Caledonii. Whoever had formed the tribes up had done a sound job.
What Marcus did not know was that there was a huge warband approaching the rear of their lines and they were just awaiting the Roman command to attack. “When they going to give the order sir? We’ve been up for hours. The lads’ll start to get tired and hungry soon.”
“Tell them to chew on their dried meat,” Decius nodded and rode down the line. Since the days of Ulpius the ala had cured and dried meat to use in just such a situation. Marcus too wanted the battle started but the longer the delay the more the ground would dry out. He realised he was becoming nervous and he wiped his hands on the cloak protecting his groin. He drew his sword from its sheath. Whether it was a conscious or unconscious gesture one could not tell but the effect on the men was instantaneous. Even the new recruits had heard of the Sword of Cartimandua and its magical qualities. As he rode down the line Marcus could feel the men standing taller. Some braver voices called out, “We’ll have them sir, let’s get at them, and we’ll avenge your lady.” They were silenced by decurions and sergeants but Marcus smiled, pleased with the spirit and he raised the sword. He could not have anticipated the reaction. There was a huge cheer not only from his ala but from most of the troopers in the other ala.
Cerialis heard it and said to his aide, “Well the Pannonians seem in good spirits. I hope the rest of the army is, if they are then it bodes well for us.”
The prefect and his son were less happy for it showed to whom the men owed the most loyalty.”Do not worry Fabius. At the end of today there will be a new hero who will be cheered. We will scatter these barbarians before us like seed in the wind.”
By the time Marcus and Decius met again at the centre of the line the men were like greyhounds straining at the leash. Marcus turned to Agrippa and Cato behind him. “Remember your turmae are crucial. Cato, keep your men pouring arrows into them. We have to create a weak spot. Agrippa make sure your men have plenty of javelins; if they run out then get them from the other turmae.”
The two men chorused,” Yes sir,” just as the buccina sounded.
Marcus looked briefly at Cominius who nodded and he shouted, “Move forwards!”
To his left he heard the prefect shout, “Trot!” This part of the battle would be at a walk for Marcus and Cominius. As they moved forward Marcus watched the enemy line. If they charged it would change his plans but they seemed immovable. Behind him he could hear the bolt throwers and ballistae moving into position. He and Cominius had agreed that they would halt together even though the Pannonians had a greater range because of their horses. The ranks of auxiliaries all stopped at the same time. The archers drew back their bows, their chests heaving with the exertion. Those with javelins pulled them back almost behind their right ear. The command “Loose” saw the sky blacken as the air filled with arrows and javelins. Away to the left he could hear the shout of, Charge” and then a roar as the prefect and his son led his men to what they hoped would be glory and perhaps, a civic crown.
The tribes had learned from previous encounters with the auxiliaries and shields came up to ward off the missiles. They had developed shields more like the Romans with metal strips to give strength. Some missiles struck home but not as many as might have been expected. As they lowered their shields the barbarians hurled insults at the Romans. There were remarkably few corpses lying on the field of battle. Decius shouted over to Marcus, “That could have gone better!”
“Don’t worry our job is just to fix them while the artillery gets into position.” As he said that he glanced over his shoulder. The artillery was just twenty paces behind him and the deadly bolts, iron tipped and lethal to files of men, were already being loaded.
Agricola rode up to him. “A couple more volleys and then retreat to the left to cover that flank. Your comrades look to be in the thick of it.” He looked to where the general pointed. The two cavalry forces were engaged in a furious battle. It was difficult to see who was winning but the prefect was doing his job and keeping the cavalry from flanking them and for that both Marcus and Agricola were grateful. A cavalry charge as they were setting up the artillery would have been a disaster...
Suddenly they heard a buccina sound from the rear. Agricola’s face became a mask of fear. “The Batavians, they are being attacked.” Just then there was an almighty shout from the enemy and the barbarian horde moved forward. “Better give one volley and then retreat. Cornicen sound the signal for the Batavians.” The pre-arranged signal was given and the Batavians moved back through the artillery to give the crews some protection.
Marcus shouted, “One volley then follow me!”
Even as his men moved away from the field he heard the twang of bolt throwers. The heavy tipped missiles tore through ranks of the enemy. Their last volleys also took down many more men who could not be protected by shields. The Batavians also hurled their javelins and the charge of the tribes’ front line faltered as the bodies became a barrier to the men following behind. Whoever was in command of the barbarian army had anticipated this for slingers and archers began to pelt the artillery crews and Batavians with missiles. As the crews took hits their speed dimini
shed allowing the horde to move inexorably closer. Marcus shouted to Cato, “Target their archers.”
Just then Gaius, who was on the far left of the line, galloped up.”Sir, the prefect, he has gone off chasing the enemy cavalry.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Most of them are still there and they are charging,” he looked back with an apprehensive look, “us! It looks like he has dropped us right in it.”
“As usual, “muttered Decius.
“Form line! Cato! Agrippa! Stay here and keep pounding them. The rest of you, we have some cavalry the prefect kindly left for us to deal with.” He waited until the men had dressed their ranks and drawing his sword, yelled, “Charge!”
The advantage the Pannonians had was that they were rested having just been stood. The Brigante had been fighting for some time; even so they were closely matched. The prefect had charged off with almost eight hundred men chasing a small force of only two hundred. The one thousand remaining outnumbered Marcus and his men. Still they gave no thought to that. They were the Pannonian cavalry and they would emerge victorious.
Behind the legions the General was cursing. “That damn fool of a prefect. He had one job to do; take out the cavalry and all he has done is to deprive me of half my cavalry and leave me wide open for a flank attack.”
Just then an aide sent to investigate the rear returned. “Sir. There are thousands of barbarians in the rear and they have rafts in the river. They are trying to flank the Batavians.”
“Prefect Demetrius, again! He has destroyed my reserve. Return to Prefect Strabo and ask him to hold for as long as possible, I will try to get some help.” As the man rode off he turned to another aide, “You find Decurion Princeps Maximunius ask him to send some of his men to relieve Strabo.” He saw the man’s expression and said, “I know he is already engaged but he is all we have.” He turned to the tribunes. “The prefect of cavalry has decided it for us; we attack.” The buccina sounded and the general shouted above the din, “Men of the Ninth and Twentieth today we end this rebellion. Today we show these barbarians that it is not the number of men that win battles but quality and I have with me the best that Rome has to offer. Are you with me?” The roar could be heard across the battlefield and the two legions marched forward led by their general on a horse and the tribunes and centurions. The gambler had thrown the dice.
Chapter 17
Marcus heard the roar and the buccina from his right as his men thundered into the Brigante lines. He had no time to turn but he knew that the legions were committed. If he could not deflect this cavalry charge then the legions would be attacked on two sides. He had the advantage of the slope and the fact that his men still had two javelins. They had been trained well and they knew the perfect time to throw their missiles. They thundered over the open ground the short distance to the enemy. Marcus lowered his sword. Even as the first javelins left their hands they were preparing to use the second as a spear.
The first line of the Brigante crumpled under the impact of the missiles some hit horses which careered into others or crashed to the ground. Many hit warriors their iron tips taking them through the mail shirts they word. Once the Romans hit them it became a melee with every man for himself. Marcus had thrown both javelins preferring to use his long sword. He saw a war chief and headed for him roaring his challenge. The war chief saw the Decurion Princeps and recognised not only the soldier and his rank but, more importantly, the weapon. Every Brigante knew of the sword and longed to own the mystical weapon. Drawing the sword and waving it acted as a magnet for every warrior. They were all drawn to the Decurion Princeps who found himself surrounded by an avalanche of enemies. The war chief, a lieutenant of Aed’s called Fachnan; saw this as an opportunity for greatness and glory. Aed would be watching with King Maeve and Fainch from behind the lines; he would kill this Roman, retrieve the sword and the battle would be theirs. It would become a song long sung! He lowered his spear and charged at Marcus who turned Argentium at the last minute to take the spear on his shield. He struck down with his sword and the blow was so hard it penetrated the mail and sliced into the war chief’s shoulder. He roared in pain and anger and turned his own smaller mount to attack again. As he wheeled and hacked at his enemies, Argentium did his part kicking out and snapping with his teeth. Fachnan saw that Marcus was occupied with two foes and he thrust his spear at his unprotected back. Some sixth sense made the Decurion Princeps jerk Argentium’s reins around and the spear sliced through the soft flesh of his upper left arm ripping away a piece of ragged flesh. Fachnan was committed to the thrust and as he came past the Roman, the sword of Cartimandua took his head off as cleanly as a knife through an apple. He had no time to rest for three more men came to claim the sword as their own. As the best warriors were attacking Marcus the rest of the turmae found that their enemies were not as strong and soon superior skill told.
Even as the enemy started to fall back Decius shouted, “Macro, Metellus help Marcus. Gaius, Lentius keep after them.” The three decurions rushed to aid their beleaguered commander and not before time. Despite his best efforts his shield was almost splintered and was so useless as a defensive weapon that he threw it at one of his enemies and drew the gladius he carried instead of a knife. Ducking beneath the spear thrust at his head Marcus stabbed upwards catching the warrior beneath his jaw and penetrating his brain. Even as he withdrew his sword he deflected a second spear with his gladius. He was now surrounded and things would have gone badly but for the arrival of his chosen man, and the three decurions. Artorius saved Marcus’ life but at the cost of his own. The sword which would have sliced through his neck found instead his chosen man’s. Macro killed that warrior and a second as his blade continued its arc it seemed to sing in the air and the song it sang was death. Decius and Metellus also fought with a fury that few men could live with and soon the four of them sat on their heaving panting mounts in a sea of bodies. Their frenetic and frantic charge had broken the back of the barbarian cavalry. That added to the fact that their leader lay dead demoralized them completely. Before they could even draw breath the general’s aide found them.
“Sir. The Governor has asked if you can relieve Prefect Strabo. He is being attacked.”
Marcus looked at Decius who said despondently, “He can’t expect you to go sir. Look you are wounded.” The blood was flowing freely from his leg and his arm but Marcus could tell they were neither fatal nor incapacitating.
“We can’t let the Batavians down.” He looked at his tired and exhausted men and then at the Batavians fighting for their very existence. “ Macro, bring Agrippa and Cato. Metellus and Decius gather your turmae, Macro’s and mine. We will have to manage with six turmae.” As they rode off to carry out his commands Marcus looked at the main battle line. The two legions were almost at the enemy line. Much of the artillery was in pieces and the Batavians looked to be spent as a force. As he waited for the men to reform he glanced at the left flank. Gaius and Lentius were doing well but there was no sign of the other ala.
“Right men. It looks like we are doing the Batavians another favour. Two lines. Walk. “The two hundred troopers rode back through the deserted part of the battlefield towards the frantic conflict around the four camps. He could see men still fighting but there appeared to be a flood of barbarians. He turned to his Cornicen, “Give three blasts on your buccina to let them know we are coming.” As the horn sounded Marcus noticed some of the Batavians turn around. It was little enough that they had done but it might give the prefect hope, if he was still alive. His arm and his leg felt numb and in his body he felt weary. He had had little sleep the previous night and the battle had taken much out of him. The thought came to him , however, that he would have to find an inner strength if he was to succeed and relieve Strabo. Even then it might not be enough. If the legions failed then all was lost.
The legions hit the barbarians as solid block. Each man was touching the man next to him and the man behind held his scutum tight against his back. Whe
n they were close enough the centurions ordered them to throw their last javelin then they drew their killing weapon the gladius. There was no speed in their attack just sheet weight of men and armour. The front lines of the barbarians crumbled under the onslaught of javelins followed by men and swords. They could not reach the legionaries for they faced a solid line of shields. The gladii came under the shield to hamstring the warrior or over the shield to be thrust through face and brain or they were thrust between shields into the unarmoured midriff. They were a killing machine. The barbarians had thought to deny the Romans the opportunity to outflank them but they had merely played to the Roman strength and provided a battlefield with no exit. They were a relentless machine. When the centurions felt that the front rank was tiring they would order the passage of ranks and the second rank would come forward to become the front rank, the third the second and the first rank would rest a while as the third rank. The barbarians had no answer to this and they constantly faced fresh soldiers and the savage, slicing swords.
In the centre were the first centuries of the Ninth and Twentieth fighting side by side. Not only were these the biggest centuries in each legion they had the best men and the best centurions. They began to force their way through the battle line. They became the arrow head and the flanks were pushed out. As the other centuries gained ground more and more of the barbarians found themselves at the edge of the river; whilst looking over their shoulders many of them were slain whilst others fell into the wide and icy cold river. If death was not instantaneous it was inevitable.
Above it all the legionaries could hear the voices of Quintus Cerialis and Julius Agricola encouraging and leading. It made it easier to fight knowing your general was just as much in harm’s way as you were. “Come on the Ninth one more push and these savages are in the sea. Heave!” Heartened by their commander and eager to be the ones to secure victory, they pushed and stabbed forward again and another rank of northern tribesmen fell slain at their feet.