by R. W. Peake
Later, when passions had subsided and tempers cooled, it was acknowledged by the men of the Cohorts inside the walls that Primus Pilus Pullus had saved not just their lives, but their collective honor, because rather than being slaughtered where they sat, they were able to fight. Even more fortunately for all involved, Pullus didn’t have to move from one Cohort to another; the sight of comrades in the Sixth prompted the other Cohorts to do the same thing, although not without some confusion, and a fair amount of shouting between Centuries as men tried to understand what was happening. Without a word to that effect being said, the men of the 10th agreed to put their grievances in abeyance, and at least for the foreseeable future, they returned to their status as Caesar’s most trusted Legion, ready to obey their Centurions to the death. And, as was also acknowledged, it was not a moment too soon, because it gave Pullus just enough time to issue a terse set of orders that proved to be crucial.
Flaminius and Torquatus were still standing together when they heard a foreign-sounding horn play a long, wavering note, the sound floating across the darkness to them.
“Well,” Torquatus thrust out his arm, which Flaminius accepted, “Mars and Fortuna bless you and your boys.”
“Same to you,” Flaminius replied, then added in a low tone so nobody could hear, “and I pray to them that this works.”
Torquatus nodded grimly but said nothing more, and the two men parted, running to their respective spots, which were somewhat unusual. With the 25th on the right, Torquatus’ spot was to the far right with his First Century, but Flaminius had reversed the of the 30th so that he was on the far left, something the pair had discussed and decided was the best spot for both of them to be in the event the Bargosans had some idea of trying to flank them. Working in their favor against such a maneuver was the presence of the canal, particularly where it left and rejoined the Narmada, limiting the amount of open ground. And, as they had discovered, the land near the river was very soft, so animals as heavy as armored elephants would undoubtedly bog down, something they both assumed whoever the Bargosan commander was would know. Regardless, it paid to be prudent, which was what found both Primi Pili essentially farthest removed from the fighting when it began. The three-quarters moon had been usually obscured for most of the night, but now the skies cleared so that the bronze armor of both man and animal caught the light, partially illuminating the approaching enemy. Torquatus wasn’t surprised that the strongest reaction came from the sight of what he counted to be thirteen armored elephants that appeared to be heading directly for himself and the First Century.
“Shut your mouths!” he roared. “Stop acting like a bunch of women!” Turning his head, he called over his shoulder, “All right, you boys know what to do! Get into position!”
Up through the files, the dozen men that he had selected for their prowess in flinging javelins came forward, each of them carrying a jar of naphtha, which had been hastily modified for ignition, and who in turn were followed by another man whose only job was carrying another jar. Moving out in front of the leading rank, they walked forward the twenty paces Torquatus had ordered, then, also as he had ordered, dropped flat on the ground, placing their shields on the ground next to them. When he and Flaminius had decided on this tactic, the moon had still been obscured, and they were counting on the darkness to provide cover, but now there was more than enough light for the Bargosans to spot these men moving, which had forced them to modify their orders and was why the men were lying flat on the ground, where the short grass at least provided a modicum of cover. It was also too late to do anything other than this, and as another precaution, both Primi Pili had ordered their men to wait to the last possible moment to light the rags stuffed into the slit of the leather cover, so they could only hope for the best. What quickly became apparent was that the animals, on both sides, were staying put, while the Bargosan infantry, which Torquatus saw was essentially three wings, two of which were composed of men carrying shields but no other visible weapons, which he assumed correctly meant these men used swords that were still sheathed at this moment, while men with larger shields and long spears were arrayed directly in the center. The Primus Pilus could see just by their alignment and spacing that these Bargosans were part of a phalanx, and by his estimation, looked to be about two thousand men strong, while the swordsmen on each side appeared to be half those numbers, divided into two wings. Arrayed in front of the advancing Bargosans were perhaps three hundred men who were carrying small, round shields, and while Torquatus was certain these were some sort of skirmishers, it wasn’t until they were within about a hundred paces that he saw they each had a quiver strapped to their backs, from which protruded at least a dozen javelins. Now that they were closer, Torquatus also saw that whoever was commanding these men had, either by mistake or for a reason Torquatus couldn’t determine at this moment, he had not arrayed his forces so that they were aligned with the length of the Roman formation. As matters stood at the moment, Torquatus was standing what he estimated was a good two hundred paces to the left of the enemy’s flank. It was impossible to tell with any certainty, but when Torquatus looked across the entire Bargosan formation, it appeared as if the same was the case for Flaminius, that at least his Cohort overlapped their enemy. This seemed to be an invitation by the Bargosan commander for Torquatus and Flaminius to fall on their flanks; the only thing keeping the Romans from doing so was the presence of those elephants. Although they hadn’t moved when the Bargosan advance began, and Torquatus didn’t have much experience to call on when it came to how quickly the animals could move, given the differences in the accoutrement and number of men borne by these Indian elephants as well as the differences in the beasts themselves, he felt certain that they could cover the approximately four hundred paces quickly enough to put Torquatus’ men in jeopardy if he led them in an attack on the left flank. That this was the same situation Flaminius faced Torquatus assumed as well; he would know if it wasn’t in the event the Primus Pilus of the 30th led his Cohort in the attack. So, he thought grimly, we’re going to have to stand here and watch, at least for the beginning of this battle. What puzzled Torquatus slightly was that, if the Bargosan commander had simply widened the phalanx by reducing its depth, they would have been able to match the length of the Roman formation facing them. Instead, the ranks of the phalanx extended back from the men in the leading rank for what Torquatus estimated was almost a hundred paces.
“It’s like they’re wanting to punch through us and have men ready to do…what?” he muttered to himself.
The dawning of an idea, or more accurately, a realization was coming to Torquatus when, with a shout, the javelineers came rushing forward, jerking his attention back to the immediate future. Out of range as they were, Torquatus and the men of the First and part of the Second Cohort stood there, shields in hands and ready to raise in the event that the enemy missile troops suddenly shifted their aim, watching as the barely visible slivers of the short javelins sailed through the air. Because of the distance, the normal racket of iron heads punching into wood was somewhat muted, but what Torquatus listened for was the cries of pain, or worse, that would tell him some of his men had been struck instead of a shield, but it wasn’t until the third volley that happened. The Romans enduring this assault didn’t respond in kind; the range of the lighter Bargosan javelins was farther, but the reason for their refusal to order a volley of their own was that their officers knew not to waste one of their two missiles on men who wouldn’t be doing the actual up-close fighting. That, Torquatus knew well, didn’t make it any easier to endure, but he was pleased to see that there wasn’t a lapse in discipline, which occasionally happened. The bombardment of missiles lasted for the length of time it took for each javelineer to exhaust their supply, whereupon they turned and scurried off.
Calling across the formation to his Optio, Torquatus ordered, “Labeo, look behind us and tell me how bad the casualties are!”
The Optio shouted his acknowledgment while Torquatus kept his at
tention on the Bargosans, watching as the skirmishers vanished into the ranks of their comrades, who had paused momentarily for the javelineers to do their job.
“Primus Pilus,” Labeo called out. “It looks like about thirty men hit, but I can’t tell how badly!”
Torquatus just raised his vitus in acknowledgment, not wanting to take his attention away from what was taking place, and it turned out to be a good thing that he didn’t, because he witnessed why the Bargosan commander hadn’t spread his phalanx troops out. The signal didn’t come from a horn, but from the huge elephant that was the only animal not out on either flank, although it was well behind the rearmost ranks of the phalanx troops, standing in the center of the road. Raising its trunk, the animal made a trumpeting call that was instantly drowned out as the Bargosan troops came rushing forward, and the surprise came with the phalanx troops. Normally, their advance wasn’t performed in a rush; the power and strength of the phalanx was created by the integrity of the formation, which, when properly employed, acted as a huge, armored fist that, while striking slowly, did so with an enormous amount of power. That didn’t happen here; as Torquatus watched in some astonishment, what appeared to be half of the Bargosans in the phalanx dropped their spears, and instead of a slow, measured advance, went rushing headlong at the Roman line with their comrades on either side. At first, this seemed to be nothing but suicidal to the Primus Pilus, then he caught the glint of moonlight on raised sword blades, wielded by every man involved in the attack.
It was the composition of the phalanx troops that helped form Ranjeet’s plan; while half of them were the survivors from the battle earlier in the day, including Barhinder’s brother Sagara, a thousand of the men who composed Abhiraka’s personal bodyguard were not only available, but they had played no role in the fight. These were the only men who were trained in the use of both the long phalanx spear and the sword to an equal degree, although theirs were slightly different from those carried by the swordsmen who comprised most of the infantry. Most importantly, these men were all veterans, and had been handpicked for the royal phalanx only after proving themselves in battle. These were the men that Ranjeet was counting on to plunge deeply into the Roman ranks; those men of the normal phalanx troops were going to be held by Ranjeet, not just as the reserve, but as the troops who would make the final push to the canal, and beyond. How they would use those ships he had correctly assumed were Roman to cross the canal he didn’t know at this moment, but it wasn’t an insurmountable problem…as long as his men, and animals, sent these Romans fleeing for their lives. He had asked Darpashata’s substitute handler to command the animal to sound the call for the final charge, then stood in the box, watching as his plan went into effect. With the moon now visible, he was able to see what looked like dark slivers arcing through the air towards his men, and over the roaring of the thousands of voices, he heard the sudden screams of pain that signaled that some of those Roman missiles had found its mark, but it didn’t cause more than a ripple in the onrushing line. Less than a heartbeat after launching their missiles, the sound of horns that sounded a low, bass note rang out all across the neatly arranged rectangles of men, and the noise level increased dramatically as the Romans launched themselves into their own run, heading directly for Ranjeet’s men. It startled Ranjeet; he had never seen a countercharge before, but what he could see and feel even a hundred paces behind the rearmost ranks was the force of the collision, as all along the line, he saw things fly into the air, those flying highest into the air momentarily outlined against the flames beyond the dirt rampart. Even with that and the moonlight, it was impossible to discern what these items were, but it was a sign of the violence, and above the roaring came screams of mortal agony, which Ranjeet clearly heard but ignored, watching intently. He was waiting for the right moment when, in his judgment, his men had penetrated deeply enough and were entangled with the Romans sufficiently to forestall them from their horrible weapon. As he watched, his hopes began to rise, watching as the men of the royal phalanx, taking advantage of their shields that were almost identical in size to those used by the Romans, used them to plunge into the midst of the Romans at least three and in some places four ranks deep into the enemy formation. It wasn’t without cost; within a dozen heartbeats, there were several inert bodies, and even more men came crawling out through the tangle of legs, collapsing just a matter of paces away from the fighting. While he saw these casualties, they weren’t excessive to this point, and he was prepared to lose many, many more men in order to achieve his aim. Finally, he saw what he had been waiting for, the bronze armor helping to delineate between the combatants, and he caught the glitter from both scale armor and cuirasses now just one row away from the rear of the Roman line. There was another formation of Romans waiting identical in size just behind the first, and for a moment, he considered waiting for his men to penetrate deeply enough to at least engage with them, but he felt certain that he would have to commit the remaining phalanx troops to do it.
Deciding this would have to do and that his elephants would be more than enough to handle the second Roman line, he turned to the horn player, ordering, “Sound the call for the Harem to advance!”
The note hadn’t died away when it was answered by the same kind of call that Darpashata had given, multiplied by all of the remaining elephants, and they began moving from their position on either side and behind Ranjeet. While he kept his attention on the fighting, he waited for the animals to appear in his peripheral vision from either side as they converged to the spot directly in front of him. Each handler had been ordered to use the northern road as a reference point, but while he saw movement, it wasn’t the elephants who caught his attention. It started to his left, and he turned to see a line of men, not many, no more than a dozen, who had somehow escaped his notice and were positioned in front of the part of the Roman lines that weren’t engaged, suddenly standing up and moving forward. Before he could determine exactly what they were doing, the elephants interposed themselves, blocking his view as they moved across his front at an oblique angle, but while he didn’t get a good look, he had the sense those Romans were holding something in one hand that wasn’t an obvious weapon like a sword or javelin. He quickly turned to look to his right, but the elephants were already between him and whatever might have been on the opposite side, but somehow, he had a sick certainty that he knew what was about to happen.
Pullus’ decision that saved many of his men’s lives that night was not to try and stop the Bargosans by taking them head on, within the narrow confines of the streets up which their enemy was advancing. Instead, he sent two-thirds of them into the buildings, cramming men into the nearest dwellings or shops, while sending hand-picked men up onto the second floor of those buildings that were multi-storied and on the roofs of those that weren’t, telling them to remain hidden until he ordered the Cornicen to sound the signal. The remainder, consisting of the last two Centuries of each Cohort, served a dual purpose; the first was as bait once Pullus and his Centurions determined down which streets the Bargosans were coming, and the second was as a maneuver element to move around the advancing enemy to get behind them once the Bargosans entered the blocks where the buildings were occupied. To accomplish the first, a handful of men were selected to move towards the advancing enemy but were ordered only to observe and determine which north/south streets were being used, and they returned to give Pullus enough information to determine that the Bargosans were advancing up five streets, seemingly equally divided in strength. And, as he had suspected would be the case, each of these ad hoc columns were led by elephants, which actually lent itself to his plan. Those Centuries who weren’t crammed into buildings Pullus placed blocking the five streets, but at the opposite end of the block from the direction the Bargosans were approaching.
“I want your boys to look like they intend to make a stand,” Pullus explained to the Centurions whose men had been selected for this, “but also that their hearts aren’t in it and are only standing there b
ecause they’ve been ordered to.” He paused, more to assess whether the others had divined what he had in mind; he saw several frowns that prompted him to explain, “But as soon as those elephants get close enough to smell, I want you to fall back to the next block.” Stopping again, Pullus indicated what was the penultimate block from the northern wall. “But this time, you’re going to be at this end of the street. And,” he finished grimly, “you’re going to need to stand and fight there long enough for the rest of it to happen.”
The Centurions acknowledged this readily, despite the fact that barely a sixth part of a watch earlier they wouldn’t have been able to promise their Primus Pilus that their men would obey any order from them whatsoever, and this change of heart was based in two factors. The first was that, despite their anger and resentment, the men quickly realized that their discontent didn’t mean anything to the Bargosans, and their chances of seeing another sunrise was being threatened, which instantly relegated their concerns to the background. As crucial as this was, most important to their ready acceptance was that Pullus had shared his plan, and it involved using what was the remaining supply of naphtha, numbering barely more than a dozen jars, but not in the obvious manner. Whether or not Pullus’ plan would work was all that remained to be seen, and the preparations were made just as the Bargosans came into view down the streets they had selected. The Centuries who had been selected to stand were quickly arrayed across each street, the width forcing them to contract their spacing between files, which actually suited the Romans’ purpose, while the distance between ranks was reduced as well and the siege spears held by the first two ranks thrust out in a manner similar to a phalanx. At first, the advancing Bargosans were just a black mass advancing in the darkness, only becoming distinct very slowly; naturally, what the men unanimously saw first were the elephants, the street just wide enough for two of the animals to move side by side, with less than a man’s width between them, and with barely more than that between their armored sides and the buildings. While the animals were the most perilous threat, the Centurions and Optios were equally aware of the presence of the men standing in the swaying box atop each animal. While it wasn’t done with any unanimity of action, each Century in the blocking position went into testudo, although one, the Fifth Century of the Seventh Cohort, was an instant late, and subsequently had four men struck in the opening volley of arrows from the archers. Very quickly, the Romans learned that, while each animal still had three men in the box, along with the handler, who was laying his body flat atop the animal’s head, the spearman had been replaced with another archer. This in itself wouldn’t have posed a huge hazard; six archers, no matter how quickly they could draw and loose, were more of an inconvenience, but as the men also discovered, other archers were launching their missiles from behind the animals, who effectively blocked the view behind them. Adding to the hazard, they were arching their shots so that they came down from an almost vertical angle, making it impossible for any of the Centurions, who were positioned just behind their Centuries, to track the missiles as they plunged down. Once it began, the predominant noise became one with which the veterans of the Equestrians were familiar; the hollow report of iron heads poking through the wooden shields, punctuated by a sharp, metallic clanging of iron striking iron, and as always, shouts of pain and surprise when one of the slender shafts found a seam in the roof of shields. Ironically, this actually helped the Romans in their attempt to portray themselves as unwilling to stand and face the elephants, which were still moving at a walk about a hundred fifty paces away.