Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  “Move,” a centurion amongst them hollered. “You heard the prefect. Get a move on.”

  The legionaries picked their shields up and hustled forward and around behind the faltering wedge, stepping over bodies and rocks. Within moments, Karus had a rough line two ranks deep. He moved behind it. The wedge to his left had only managed to advance another five or so feet in the time it took to form the new line. All forward progress had nearly been arrested. The wedge had lost its shape, forming more of a curved line now as the enemy pressed back. The men of Cestus’s century had locked their shields for common defense and, on their centurions’ orders, were periodically parting them to jab outward.

  Karus scanned over his new line, which extended beyond the depth of the enemy’s tightly packed ranks along the flank. With luck, it would be enough to break the enemy’s efforts and send them running. He prayed that it would be, for he felt a desperate need to break off contact and reform the legion. He needed time to do that, and the only way to get it was to break this force before him.

  “On my order, I want to hear you shout for all you’re worth,” Karus called. “It’s time to break them. Advance!”

  “HAAAAH,” the legionaries shouted, and for a moment it drowned out the sound of the fighting. The line advanced.

  “Push,” Cestus shouted at his men, and they pushed along with Karus’s new line, which joined the fight.

  Karus snapped an order out, angling the end of his line so it began to wrap around behind the enemy’s, effectively pinching the flank. The Celtic warriors there abruptly found themselves in an impossible position, being attacked and pressured from three sides. They were hemmed in and trapped, held in place inadvertently by their own side. In moments, as Karus had hoped, panic began to set in.

  It seemed as if there was a collective groan. The panic spread and then the cohesiveness of the enemy’s thrust up the hill lessened and quickly fragmented. All along the Seventh’s main line, the centurions sensing the slackening of pressure ordered their men once again to push.

  What moments before had been a concerted effort to shove their way up the hill tuned into a scene of panic, flight, and death. The enemy broke, turning nearly as one, and fled down the hill. Men shoved their fellows aside and were in turn tripped and then trampled. Others, in a desperate attempt to elude the wolf, scrambled back up on all fours like prey and ran for all they were worth. The vengeful legionaries surged forward. They were intent on killing all they could, mostly those who had not reacted fast enough or had fallen.

  Officers bellowed orders, intent on preserving the integrity of their lines and preventing their men from becoming too caught up in the pursuit. It took a few hundred heartbeats, and a horn call, but the men of Seventh Cohort began to gradually fall back into line and return to the iron discipline of the legion.

  Karus took a deep, relieved breath of cold air and savored it. The sounds of fighting all along the hill died down as the enemy broke contact, slipping into the night. He had succeeded.

  “Excellent work,” Karus told the nearest men, then turned to the centurion who had helped him break the enemy. He saw it was Arentus, one of the most junior officers in the legion. Karus caught the other’s eye and offered him a satisfied nod. “Get your men back in line with the rest of the Seventh,” Karus told Arentus. “We will be withdrawing up to the summit of the hill to tighten our defense.”

  “Yes, sir,” Arentus said.

  Cestus, just feet away, had a number of wounded. The centurion was busily attending to them along with the rest of his century. Karus let out a long breath as he looked over the scene of the battle. Bodies lay everywhere, many writhing about. Legionaries from the Seventh were moving amongst them, looking for comrades that still lived and could be helped.

  Karus turned his gaze back to Cestus and sheathed his sword. Now that the enemy had broken contact, Karus no longer needed the entire century. There was much to do if he was to consolidate the legion, and he could not wait for Cestus to deal with his wounded.

  “Cestus,” Karus called to the centurion. “I want two of your men.”

  “I will give you a few more.” Cestus was kneeling beside a badly injured legionary, holding the dying man’s hand.

  “Two will be sufficient,” Karus said. “Focus on your wounded. Get your century up the hill as soon as you can.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cestus said and ordered two men to Karus’s side. Both stepped over.

  “I will see you at the top.”

  Cestus nodded and turned back to the mortally wounded legionary. Karus saw the centurion’s hand move toward his dagger before he turned away and started climbing the hill, the two legionaries following him.

  Karus went in search of the Seventh’s senior centurion. After a short hike, he found Varno with the cohort’s standard, consulting with a number of his officers.

  “I take it I have you to thank for that turning movement?” Varno said.

  “Who’s to your immediate left?” Karus asked. There was no time to waste while the enemy had broken off contact.

  “Delmatarum, then Fifth Cohort,” Varno said. “Beyond that I have no idea.”

  “Send a runner to Haemus and Flaccus. They are to take their cohorts up toward the summit,” Karus ordered. “Also, spread the word to the other cohorts that the legion will be converging at the summit to tighten our lines and allow us to make a concerted and organized defense. Once we bring the legion back together, we are going to set strong lines and make the enemy come to us. Understand me?”

  “Yes,” Varno said. Karus thought he detected a note of relief in the other’s voice at having been given direction.

  A mule brayed a few feet away. A small mule train, with each animal tethered to the next, was idly standing behind the Seventh’s line. The mules, heavily loaded with supply, were unattended.

  Karus had ordered the wagons and carts of the supply train to be abandoned in the rush to seek the safety of the hill and a better defensive position, but he had made sure the mules came with them. Karus only counted ten mules. He hoped that the rest of the train had made it and was somewhere up the hill in the darkness. Now that the fighting had ceased, farther up the slope he could hear crying and wailing coming from the camp followers.

  “Secure those mules,” Karus ordered. “Get them and any camp followers you come across moved up to the summit as well. Make sure none of the mules get left behind. We’re going to need what supply they carry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A horse whinnied, and Karus heard the soft thud of hooves coming down the hill. He nodded to Varno to get to work, then turned to look. Saturninus was riding down the steep hill, mounted on Brutus. Behind him came a squadron of Valens’s cavalry. The tribune saw Karus, but did not stop. He kept riding slowly down the hill, leaning forward in the saddle slightly to see the ground as he steered his horse around a large rock.

  “Defeated them, have you?” Saturninus asked in a deep, confident voice.

  “Only shoved them back a bit,” Karus said. “It’s just a lull, sir. Once they overcome their confusion, I am confident they will be back. We will be ready for them.”

  “Carry on then, prefect,” Saturninus said as he and the squadron passed beyond Varno’s line, working their way down the hill.

  “Where are you going?” Karus asked after the tribune.

  “Back to Rome.”

  Karus was not quite sure he believed the madness he was witnessing. He considered calling them back, as there was no doubt in his mind that Saturninus would not make it past the masses of the enemy below. He could not see how he could stop Saturninus from taking the cavalry squadron with him to his doom.

  He watched Saturninus and the cavalry squadron disappear into the darkness. Karus felt a deep revulsion at the other’s cowardice. Then he shook his head. He had enough to worry about without concerning himself with Saturninus. If the opportunity ever presented itself, he promised there would be a reckoning.

  Varno’s line began mo
ving up the hill. Karus turned to follow as the tired and weary men streamed around him. Just then, from out in the darkness below, there was the clash of sword on sword, and shouts. A horse screamed, followed by the pounding of many hooves that in a handful of heartbeats rapidly grew fainter.

  Karus rubbed at his dry eyes. There was a crick in his neck from the weight of the helmet. He cracked it and, with a heavy breath, began working his way up the hill.

  “Sir.” One of the men Cestus had assigned him pointed back down the hill. A riderless horse was climbing back up the slope toward them. Karus recognized Brutus.

  “Grab that horse,” Karus ordered to the legionary, who hastened to comply, seizing the bridle. Karus stepped over to the animal, his eyes lingering upon the saddlebags, and then the fine saddle. There was a blood stain marring the rich leather. The enemy had deprived him of the opportunity for a reckoning.

  “Legionary,” Karus said after a moment’s reflection. “Make sure you get that horse up the hill. You are to guard this animal. No one touches the saddlebags, including yourself.”

  “Yes, sir,” the legionary said. “I will do as you say.”

  The legionary led the horse on ahead. Karus glanced down into the darkness. He could see nothing beyond the ground they had just fought over. He continued up the hill, at first following Varno’s line and then passing through it. Karus trudged onward, legs beginning to ache with the strain.

  It became more difficult to see. Karus realized that he had entered the cloud layer. A few steps in and it was almost so thick that, combined with the darkness, he could barely see his hand in front of his face. He stumbled along, and from the sounds of it, others were having as much difficulty.

  “Keep that line together,” an officer’s voice rang out from somewhere off to the right. “Tighten up. If you can feel your neighbor and smell his foulness, you can’t get lost.”

  “I can smell your foulness, sir,” a voice called back, which was followed by a good laugh from a number of men.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” the officer replied. “Just keep climbing, and smelling your neighbor.”

  There was another general laugh.

  Karus glanced back and made eye contact with the sole remaining legionary Cestus had assigned him. Satisfied that he was keeping up, Karus trudged onward and upward.

  After a while, the darkness began to lighten considerably. He could see a bright glow that he supposed was the moon, somewhere over the top of the hill. There he would finally be able to stop. And there also, the legion would make its stand and force the enemy to come to them.

  With each step, it became brighter, and the misty murkiness began to thin. Karus found he could see farther, making out groups of people struggling up the hill, mostly civilians. Then, with a suddenness that surprised, they emerged onto the crest of the hill and out under a magnificent night sky complete with millions of stars and a full moon shining down upon them, like a pleased parent.

  For as rough and craggy as the slope was, Karus found to his surprise that the hill’s summit was extraordinarily flat. It was perhaps three hundred yards wide and just as many long. Grass stunted by winter brushed against his sandaled feet as he walked.

  From what he could see, it appeared that most of the camp followers had made it to the summit. They huddled together in small groups, fearfully looking for the enemy to emerge into the moonlight.

  There were a few centuries on the hill. These Karus had dispatched earlier to shepherd and protect the camp followers. He was pleased to see that someone had the forethought to position them strategically around the hilltop. A horse whinnied, drawing his attention.

  Off to the far left, Valens’s cohort began to emerge from the mists, the men leading their mounts. Karus turned fully around and his eyes opened wide. Under the moonlight, the tops of the clouds were illuminated brightly. It looked as if he were standing upon a solitary island surrounded by a vast white sea. Karus had never seen anything quite like it, and for a moment was moved.

  The legionary with him let out a low whistle as he also took in the sight.

  “Sir.”

  The moment was broken. Karus turned to see Centurion Pulmonus approaching. The centurion stopped, and his eyes flicked over his superior. Karus glanced down. He realized that he was covered in dried blood, gore, and grime.

  “It got a little spirited,” Karus said, and then glanced around at the hilltop. “You were right; this is a good spot.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Pulmonus turned. “I have six centuries positioned around the summit.” He paused to point each of them out. “Most of the camp followers have made it up, though it seems there is still a good number on their way. The majority of the mule train made it too. I’ve put them over there, near the center where we can better protect them.”

  Karus looked in the direction indicated, feeling vast relief that some of the supplies had made it. Before ordering the retreat, he had given instruction that as much food and water as possible be loaded onto the mules. At great risk, he had delayed ordering the retreat to make sure that had happened. It had almost cost him the legion, but it meant they might now have a chance if he could manage to break out.

  “Continue,” Karus said.

  “I’ve set the surgeon up over there, with the Eagle.” Pulmonus pointed. “By that large druid stone.”

  Great, Karus thought sourly as he looked at the thick stone pillar, which stood erect to a height of at least twelve feet. They’d selected a holy spot for their defensive position.

  “There is a ring of them unnatural stones around the summit,” Pulmonus said. “Ah … the surgeon has at least forty patients right now, mostly minor wounds.” Pulmonus shifted uncomfortably before continuing. “I’m afraid those with more serious injuries did not make it.”

  Karus understood. In the retreat up the hill, their comrades had likely finished off those without hope or the ability to move under their own power. It was a mercy killing, for had they been left behind, the enemy would have made them suffer terribly. Only the walking wounded would have made it.

  “I will check in on them,” Karus said, then glanced around the hilltop. He took a deep breath. “This is really good ground.”

  “I think so, sir,” Pulmonus said. “It’s a bit windy, but we have the elevation, and the enemy has to climb to get at us.”

  “This spot will do nicely,” Karus said. “The cohorts are pulling back up to the summit. I want you to send runners when they arrive. My orders are to form a ring of steel around the slopes. I will call a meeting of the senior centurions as soon as all cohorts have arrived.”

  “Yes, sir.” Pulmonus saluted, and then stepped off to carry out his orders.

  “What is your name, son?” Karus asked Cestus’s legionary, who had listened silently.

  “Legionary Drusus, sir.”

  “Well, Legionary Drusus, how about we go see the wounded?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The injured had been laid out in orderly rows, with a foot or so of space between each. It was nothing Karus had not witnessed before, but seeing his comrades in such a state always tore at his heart. Orderlies moved amongst the moaning, doing what they could.

  Karus found the surgeon, a man in his late twenties named Ampelius, who was finishing up sewing a nasty wound on the arm of an unconscious man. Not wanting to interrupt as Ampelius performed such delicate work, Karus waited. The surgeon finally sat back and looked around.

  “Centurion Karus,” the surgeon said wearily as he stood. He wiped blood from his hands onto a very dirty apron. “Good of you to visit and check in on the wounded.”

  “Ampelius,” Karus returned the surgeon’s greeting and then gestured at the wounded man. “How is he?”

  “Oh, he’s fine.” The surgeon offered a low chuckle that came out almost like a cackle. “As long as infection does not set in, he should regain full use of his arm. He just passed out when I rinsed the wound with a little vinegar is all. Actually, it made my job easier
. I couldn’t get him to stand still while I examined him.”

  “That tends to happen when the treatment is painful,” Legionary Drusus said.

  The surgeon frowned at the legionary.

  “There will likely be more wounded,” Karus said before Ampelius could reply. The man was known for treating his patients as if they were common farm animals. That said, he was gifted at his work and had saved many a lad’s life. “Do you need anything?”

  “A proper hospital ward.”

  “Not likely,” Karus responded, “at least any time soon.”

  The surgeon ran a hand through his hair. He glanced around before turning back to Karus.

  “I could use more help.”

  “You will have it.”

  “How long will we be staying here?” Ampelius bit his lip, almost as if he feared the answer.

  “I would guess at least until morning,” Karus said. “Longer if needed. Why?”

  “Give me some warning if you intend to move.”

  “I will,” Karus said. He was about to step away when he stopped. “And if we have to leave in a hurry … ”

  “You don’t need to tell me my duty,” Ampelius snapped. The surgeon took a deep breath and calmed himself. “It will be quick and quite painless. No one unable to march will be left breathing.”

  “Thank you.”

  The surgeon took a long look at Legionary Drusus before moving away as an orderly called for his attention.

  Karus looked once more around the summit. In the time he had spent speaking with the surgeon, several cohorts had arrived. Under the bright moonlight, their officers were busily reforming their men.

  Karus recognized Fourth Cohort’s standard. Felix had formed up his cohort into two long ranks and was stumping along behind the second rank, speaking with one of his centurions.

  “Felix,” Karus called.

  “Karus.” Felix stopped and gestured for the other centurion with whom he had been talking to continue on without him.

  “How are you?” Karus asked.

  “My cohort is in good shape. We gave better than we got.” Felix paused a moment. “I’ve likely lost around thirty men though.”