by R. W. Peake
“By the gods Titus, did you just swallow a bug or something?”
“No, I just don’t like logs that are waving a sword at me,” I growled in irritation, which was compounded when he merely laughed again.
“You’re not turning into an old woman are you, Titus?”
I shot him a murderous glance but said nothing. We got ambushed shortly after we entered the wooded area, making the fastest way to clear and higher ground back the way we came. The problem was that the relative safety of that high ground lay in the opposite direction of our camp. However, the Pilus Prior decided this was the lesser of two evils, so we began moving toward our refuge. Vibius and the rest of us on what had been the rear of the square now became the front, so for us it was a straightforward march ahead, pushing those Lusitani who tried to stop us out of the way, or cutting them down if they tried to fight. It was straightforward in that sense only; the front rank has to make sure they are not moving too fast for the two sides of the square, who are sidestepping as they move, which is obviously more difficult than just walking forward. The biggest risk was that we would open up a gap at the junction of where our lines met, which could be exploited by the Lusitani. At this point they were still making a token resistance, losing a few men before contenting themselves with screaming imprecations at us that we could not understand though we could guess the intent because of the gestures involved. They also hurled the occasional rock, not often, just frequently enough to keep us on our toes. However, as hard as the side files had it, it was even worse for the back ranks, forced to back up the whole way. These Legionaries at the rear of the formation were put under the most pressure by the Lusitani, who were darting in and out trying to make one of the men take a careless step backwards and fall. All of these factors meant that we could not move very quickly. Meanwhile, the Pilus Prior and Pilus Posterior of the Second Century, a man named Vetruvius, along with the Optios, Signiferi and cornici of both Centuries all walked within the square, helping the wounded keep up. Pilus Prior Crastinus was calling out the count, with the rest of the officers exhorting us to keep our cohesion, warning men whose alignment was getting too far off and generally trying to make sure we stayed together. The worst part was that if a man went down and was unable to get up, he was left behind, a fate that all of us feared more than a quick death. There had been Legionaries who fell into the hands of the Lusitani during the campaign, and if the tales told about their fates were true, it was not a fitting end for a beast, let alone a man. However, I also know that these tales may have been made up, because if there is one thing that competes with gambling in the heart of a Legionary, it is gossip and lurid tales, the bloodier the better. Finally making it to the edge of the woods, we could see in the distance a large plume of dust hanging in the still air, there generally being no breeze at that time of day. Despite having perhaps a watch and two thirds of one of daylight left, it now being the height of the summer, we all knew that we were in dire straits indeed if we were forced to stay out overnight without the opportunity of making some sort of camp. Yet at that point it did not look like we were going to be given the opportunity to do anything of the sort. Once we entered the clearing, another source of misery came into our lives; while there was no breeze, when we were under the cover of the trees of the woods we at least had shade, but now there was neither. Almost instantly I felt the sweat start to form, and before we went more than a furlong it was running down my face and into my eyes, which I had trouble keeping open because of the sting of the salt in my perspiration. I could not use my arms to wipe the sweat away either; if I moved my shield I would expose Plautius, still on my left, but if I used my sword arm, the time it took to wipe my brow would obscure my vision. This was just the kind of thing the Lusitani were waiting for in order to make some sort of move or to throw a rock while I was not in a position to duck or dodge. Making matters worse, I was not the only one in this condition, as the curses I heard all around me attested to, but despite this hardship we continued to trudge along. The Pilus Prior had pointed to the small, low hill that would be where we tried to make some sort of stand about a half mile away. This may not seem like much, but when you are under constant pressure in the way we were, it is the same as making it back to Rome. It was this small hill I was completely focused on, thinking of nothing else when finally someone made a mistake. Unable to see any more, one of the men in the rear rank walking backwards took the risk of trying to wipe the moisture from his eyes, or at least so I was told later by the man next to him. I do not know why, but for some reason he stumbled and fell, but before he could scramble to his feet a rock sailed from the mass of Lusitani, hitting him square in the face.
The man next to him started to move towards him to drag him to safety, now that the rear had taken another step or two backward, but the Pilus Prior’s voice cut through all of us like a dagger as he roared, “You take one step towards him I'll cut you down myself. He’s a dead man! Leave him to his fate!”
I was appalled and from the look of it so were Vibius and Plautius who both muttered curses under their breath.
“Silete!”
This came like the crack of a whip from Calienus, adding to our shock and confusion. Meanwhile, once the man on the ground, who was in the fifth section of the Second Century and one of the new men like us, was left behind far enough out of range that we could not protect him with either sword or javelin, the Lusitani descended on him. While I could not see, I could plainly hear their cries of triumph as they surrounded him the way a pack of wolves do when they close for the kill, and I said a silent prayer to the gods that he was still unconscious. Unfortunately, the gods were not listening because I was not even finished when I heard him shriek with the kind of pain that comes from the most agonizing of mortal wounds. Despite my attempts to shut it out of my mind, I began speculating on exactly what they were doing to him, his screams continuing for a few moments before, as abruptly as they began, they stopped just as suddenly. We moved just a few more paces when there was a flurry of activity in the surrounding hordes, and after a moment it became clear that one or a group of them was doing something that aroused the rage and frustration of both Centuries, as behind us we could hear the others cursing the Lusitani with a venom missing to that point. I got my answer why when a Lusitani came sprinting within our line of sight, out of range of a javelin but certainly close enough to see and hear him. He was brandishing a spear, on the point of which sat the head of the man they had just slain, and I felt my stomach roil as I fought the urge to unman myself by vomiting at the sight, the blood still dripping from the severed neck, the source of his agony made apparent by the clear visual evidence that he was not decapitated in one clean blow, but in three or four. Still wearing the look of shock and horror that I imagined was his last, his eyes were open, staring at us. They had even left on his helmet and this barbaric display was met with roars of approval from the surrounding Lusitani. Finding myself joining in the cursing, I hurled every vile imprecation I could think of, and as I was doing so, I locked eyes with one of them. This Lusitani was a medium-sized man a few years older than I, with long hair pulled into the knot that was their custom, bare-chested and armed with a long spear and a small shield made of painted wood. Looking me in the eyes, he grinned and with his spear made a gesture across his throat, then pointed and laughed at me. Staring grimly at him, I marked him as a man for whom I would be on the lookout if I was given the opportunity.
Just a hundred paces short of the hill, it was only then that our front rank took a casualty. It was the man behind Plautius, and he was hit by a rock that skipped off the ground to smash into his shin, shattering the bone, forcing him to fall to the ground clutching his leg. As we marched past him he reached out, grabbing Calienus by the leg, forcing him to alter his stride.
“Don’t leave me,” he begged, “for the sake of all the gods, don’t leave me with those savages!”
Calienus refused to answer, but the wounded man would not relinquish his grasp, a
nd now Calienus was falling behind in a way that endangered the line, which in turn endangered the Century. From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of silver; Calienus dispatched the man with a quick and merciful thrust, saying loudly for all of us to hear, “If we break ranks we’ll all die. I’ll do the same to you, and I expect you to do the same to me if it’s needed.”
I did not need any more encouragement to keep my place, trying to shut out what I had just seen. Despite knowing it had to be done to ensure the survival of all of us, seeing Calienus kill one of our own was hard to take. Finally, we made it to the base of the hill, even as the cloud of dust had grown closer, and it now looked like there was a sizable force of Lusitani no more than two miles away. The punishment was not all one way; as we made our way up the hill, the warriors opposite us were now walking backwards up the hill when one of them lunged at us to try striking at what he thought was a weak spot in our line with his long sword, but the blow was deflected easily. As he backed up, however, he tripped over his own feet just a couple of paces away from us but before he could regain his feet he was done in with a quick thrust, his death met with a howl of outrage from the Lusitani. Reaching the top of the hill, we underwent a brief struggle with a few of the more stubborn warriors who realized the advantage we would have if allowed to stay on the crest. My chest was heaving from the effort and I recognized this as a good sign; the hill was much steeper than it looked, and any advantage we could wreak from the situation helped. Even so, things looked bleak until the gods smiled on us, in the form of the Lusitani themselves.
Once it was clear that we would make the crest, the warriors that had steadily harassed us now withdrew to the base of the hill, seemingly content to watch us while they waited for reinforcements. The Pilus Prior did not waste any time; since we were out on a patrol that included destroying crops and chopping down vines and trees, we had a semi-complete set of tools with us, lacking only a turf cutter. Crastinus ordered our Century to dig a defensive ditch, using the spoil for a makeshift rampart, while the other Century remained on guard. We were told to keep our armor and helmet on while leaning our shield and javelins close to hand as we worked, so if I thought I was hot and sweating profusely before, I was mistaken. As I dug, I watched the water pouring off the end of my nose in a steady stream whenever I bent over, and I wondered dully how long it would be before I ran out. There was no time to even drink, let alone rest, so that before long I was desperately thirsty. Meanwhile, the Lusitani leaders huddled up in a discussion once they saw what we were doing, with a lot of arguing back and forth, men gesturing first to us and then to the dust cloud, which seemed to remain stationary, although we knew that was impossible. Very quickly the reason for the debate became fairly clear; there was a sizable contingent in the group that considered it vital to attack us immediately to keep us from erecting a defense, no matter how flimsy. This discussion quickly became an argument that grew increasingly heated, a fact that was not lost on us.
“Maybe they’ll kill each other first,” I heard someone on guard say and I thought, one can only hope. However, while they bickered we kept digging, and I at least was thankful for the delay. Crastinus kept exhorting us, calling out so that we could all hear, “Keep it up boys. The digger you deep, the safer we’ll be.”
The trick was to dig a ditch wide enough where they could not leap across it and deep enough so that they could not just simply step down into it without slowing down. Additionally, the deeper and wider the ditch, the higher the rampart, which half our tent section was erecting as the other half dug. For once, even Didius was not shirking, clearly seeing the danger we were in as much as the rest of us. I was digging, while Vibius was packing the spoil to form a rampart and it was brutal work, the hardest I had performed at that point during my short time in the Legions. Our shovels and pickaxes were flying as we worked frantically, yet the gods were smiling on us because the Lusitani debate quickly degenerated into a physical confrontation, with warriors clearly dividing into two camps, both sides shaking their fists and doing a lot of yelling at each other. Then, someone pushed someone else and all of us, despite our predicament, stopped to watch as a brawl developed among our enemies, so astounding was the sight.
Even the Pilus Prior stood there, mouth open in amazement for a moment, before snapping out of it and snarling at us, “All right, that’s enough of the show. Put your backs into it you cunni or I’ll stripe you good.”
We immediately turned to again, smiling in spite of the threat.
By the time their reinforcements arrived, assessed the situation, then arrayed themselves to attack us, it was late in the afternoon and I had never been as tired as I was at that moment. Even with the tension and imminent danger, I was fighting a losing battle against falling asleep on my feet. More than once I would feel myself pitching forward, only opening my eyes and averting an unforgivable lapse of discipline less than a heartbeat before I reached the point of no return and fell flat on my face. No matter what I told myself, how horribly I cursed my weakness, I could feel the tendrils of sleep curling around my brain. I was struck by the thought that perhaps dying in one’s sleep would not be such a bad way to go, and looking at my comrades, I saw they were much in the same condition. Having finished what preparations we could make, we were now standing behind a parapet that stood chest high for most of the men yet was only just above my waist. The only saving grace, at least as far as I was concerned, was that it was fairly thick and despite being low for our tastes, we could still kneel down and be covered from most missile weapons, especially if we set our shields on top of the parapet. Not for the first time we thanked the gods that the Lusitani did not use the bow very often, and we could see there were only a few scattered in the mass of men who surrounded us now. Calienus, being the most experienced, estimated that the new arrivals numbered between 400 and 500 armed men, adding to the 300 or so that ambushed us, although we had whittled that last group down by 50 or thereabouts. Regardless, they were long odds, of which we were all too keenly aware. Lusitani were milling about at the base of the hill, flowing around it like a flood encircling us, and once again beginning their pre-battle rituals, the sound rolling up to us, steadily growing as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Speaking for myself and I imagine a lot, if not all of the other newer men, I was almost beside myself with fright. Looking around to see that we were completely surrounded by a vastly larger force, I could not see any way to get out of this alive, and I was positive our Centuries were about to be wiped out to the last man. Then, I heard someone laugh.
Turning to see Optio Rufio and Calienus walking towards us, I saw that it was Calienus laughing. He and the other section leaders had been called over by the Pilus Prior to be given their orders, and he was returning to relay to us what we were supposed to do. Yet here they were, acting like they were back in camp, strolling along and having a good laugh, just moments or at the most a matter of a couple watches before their death. It astonished me, and I could not even begin to fathom how one could be so lighthearted knowing they were about to perish.
Calienus came to us, with Rufio going to talk to another group, and our Sergeant called us closer, but before he could speak I blurted out, “What in the name of the gods could be so funny at a time like this?”
Calienus looked at me, eyebrow raised in surprise. “Time like this? What do you mean?”
Then, waving towards the Lusitani, he laughed again. “Oh, you mean this bunch? Do you really think we’re in that much danger, Pullus?”
Feeling my face flush, I knew that I was being ridiculed for some reason, but I was not about to just roll over. “We’re outnumbered five or six to one, Calienus. Are you saying that’s not cause for worry?”
Nodding, he replied, “You’re right Pullus. We are outnumbered, but numbers don’t tell the tale.” Without being obvious, he indicated the men below us encircling the hillside with a nod of his head. “Do you notice anything Pullus?”
I was still not seeing what he was, and to
ld him so. “What I see are a lot of men down there who want to kill us.”
“Yes, but look carefully. They’ve encircled us, correct?”
Biting back a sharp retort, instead I merely nodded.
“You want to know why I’m not worried? Because they have us surrounded.” Thankfully, I could see that I was not the only one who was puzzled. Sighing, he squatted down, indicating that we were to follow suit. Continuing, he explained, “Now, if they were in one big bunch, I'd be very, very worried. See, I know that each one of us can handle five or six of those bastards each, right? I mean, how many kills did you have on the attack on the town Pullus?”
“More than that,” I admitted grudgingly.
“See, their problem is that they’re thinking like warriors, not like an army. I promise you that each one of them has picked one of us out that he's sworn to his gods he's going to kill personally.”
This made sense and I was beginning to get a glimmer of where he might be going.
“And like I said, each of us can handle a half-dozen of these bastards. Now,” he shook his head and smiled, “what would scare me out of my wits is if they were down there, in a formation like we use, and focusing their attack on just one part of the defenses. And if they had a leader half as smart as the Pilus Prior, that’s exactly what they'd be doing right now, so thank the gods that they don’t. Because if they hit one area, they'd take a lot of casualties, but it'd be a matter of moments before they'd overwhelm that point in the defenses, and that’s when our lack of numbers would really show. No,” he finished, “this isn't going to be all that difficult to handle.”