Insurgent of Rome

by Ken Farmer

  The group of senior officers - and the Dux - were in march also, rather than summoning their mounts from the rear areas where they had been stabled in anticipation of the earlier battle. Mentioning the oddity to his man, the young officer, striding beside Julius nodded, saying, "I heard that the horses were given to the scouting units for their use." It was probably so. An animal had far less stamina than a man and the horses had been traversing the landscape for days and with little rest. Fresh mounts would be a great boon to men riding in search of a foe.

  Now, quietly, his companion said, "The Dux apparently with some rage at yon enemy, to march in chase without rest."

  Julius shook his head. "Nay. It is the mark of a man who has some modicum of military skill. For all my ignorance of military uses on land, I know that it is unwise to allow a defeated enemy to take his own rest. He marches to keep Spartacus from having time to plan some other devious device."

  Valens nodded. "Aye. And there is no doubt that he did just that. But... How was he able to march so many past our sentries without the tramp of feet being heard, even in the darkness?"

  Julius gave his almost certain belief about the use of the three coasters that he had seen from the vantage of the tree. "...and had Decimus grounded only a half stadium to the north, I would have walked straight into the hidden men. And probably without even seeing my sudden death in approach." Then, with some wry tone, "The resplendence and glory of battle is different when seen with one's own eyes, rather than through the blustering tale of a street bard."

  With a totally serious expression, Valens nodded. "Aye. And if I may give truth, my legs almost failed in support of my body, so trembling were they as I watched."

  Now the Tribune smiled, but without a particle of mirth. "There is no shame in such admittance. For myself, had I the need to bellow an order, it would have issued as the high voice of your young sister."

  The day went by without further strife, beyond the slaying of a decreasing number of wounded slaves that had reached the end of their capability of flight. Another encampment was made without palisade, using the men of the wagons and quartermasters as sentries, that the exhausted soldiers could rest. With fully a forth part of the Legions now in the rear - either dead or under the ministrations of the medicuae - their force was considerable diminished, but so had that of Spartacus, and probably by equal amount.

  Rest did not come to the officers as yet. Under torches and using stacked logs for a table, the planning for the next day began even as the staff munched on their dry rations. "...is only a thousand stadia from here to Brundisium, where the messengers of Tribune Clavius have reported Generalis Lucullus to be landed, and supposedly in preparation or now marching northward. Thus, the final battle will come in the next two days - three at the most. Either with us or Lucullus," added the Dux. "Caelus... Your Centuries are the least battered. You will take the lead on the morrow, at first light. Have the water flasks filled and rations issued. We will again eat on the march..."

  Finally, the conference ended and Julius gratefully sank to his mat, not even knowing to which unit the hastily raised tent belonged. As sleep overtook him, he shook his head in self-reproof. If he was in the throes of exhaustion - having done nothing but watch a battle from afar - what were the men feeling who actually did the work this day?

  Morning brought word from the scouts, riding in with both horses and men in a far state of exhaustion. Quickly, the officers were gathering again in the minimal light of a barely breaking dawn. "...he is attempting to move to the side, mayhap back down the narrow peninsula to Rheginum, although I have trouble believing such. That would certainly seal his doom, with three entire armies able to put a stopper in the neck of that bottle with ease." The Dux pointed to the map, here and there, then said, "Scrophas, Quintus. Your Legions will move with utmost pace, here... along the Anaia via, then turn south to... mayhap, Genusia, here. I care not if you engage, just block any move toward the region of Bruttium..."

  As the sun rose, the pair of Legions backtracked the twenty stadia to the proper road, and the bulk of the army continued down the wide Flamerian Via. Other than an occasional skirmish with rebels - either lost or finished with their futile revolt and now, attempting to escape punishment - nothing was seen of the bulk of the men of Spartacus. Night fell again with little harm other than to weary legs from the many hasty stadia that had been trod that day.

  A few hours after midday of the following morn, came news of another disaster. This time the Dux kept his fury within, apparently. Not even jumping sinews in his face gave evidence of his anger, or no. Calling a halt for discussion, the officers did not even have a log table to lean over and give strategy. "...has routed Scrophas and Quintus. It would appear that their belief that the slaves were in frantic flight was in error, with their men in scattered formation chasing individuals, and easy quarry for a sudden charge by Spartacus and the bulk of his men." There was a long pause in which no officer dropped a question, then he continued, "Their success has apparently giving them determination to move to the north again, and in attempt to destroy us as well."

  After more words as to the reports coming in almost hourly from the scouts, the Dux closed his conference with, "...if they can fight their way through us, the road to the north is clear and nothing will prevent them from disappearing into the northlands. Quartermaster!" The officer in charge of keeping the Legions supplied and fed, instantly gave his reply and notice of attention. "You will arrange that the men are fed and watered before sundown, and given enough that no delay will be needed in making formation on the first light of the morrow. Then withdraw your wagons back for at least twenty stadia." The man acknowledged the order, then the Dux gave his commands for each Legion Commander, finishing with, "This is where we end this reign of terror. No man will retreat a single step on the morrow, except for local advantage. Any who turn and run will be nailed his own crosstree before the sun sets. I give oath on it." Finally, he looked around, then said, "Go to rest and prepare your men. Dismissed."

  Before the coming of morning light, the soldiers were roused and moved roughly into position. Julius was standing on another of the constructed platforms that would give the Dux and his officers a modicum of view over the heads of their men. For the moment, they were alone watching the many torches move here and there as the individual Centuries were placed, after which the men were allowed to sit in rest. The Commander's tent had been struck, as were all the others, even now being loaded onto wagons to be hauled to the rear, and the headquarters of the Dux was just another crude table with a torch on a pole at each corner.

  As Julius had no responsibility for men, nor for strategy or orders, he had no reason to attend. Indeed, to his mind, his mission was over and his place here totally superfluous. Just before sundown, as this platform was completed, the two men had climbed up to give gaze toward the sea. As expected, the white sail of the speculatoria could be seen, hove to just off the coast, Captain Decimus following his instructions of maintaining the pace and sight of the Legions as they walked the coastal Via.

  With the coming of light, Julius could see into the distance, and but there was nothing on the road ahead as yet. Nay, that was not entirely correct. A horseman was stopped in gaze, at least a stadium beyond the front ranks of Romans. That would not be unusual. The rebels used horse-scouts just as did the Legionaries.

  "Here, Sos." He turned to see his Cacula offering one of the huge shields that were the staple of every Legionary.

  He smiled. "You are determined that we will see action ourselves, this day?"

  Valens grinned, then replied, "Nay, Sos. Yon lines of Roman soldiers would seem impossible to cross by any number of foe, even if enraged and desperate. But... I have heard you give to your crew that a modicum of preparation will often prevent the offering of a copious amount of blood."

  Julius nodded, taking the rectangular shield with both hands. "Aye. Well said. I am glad you are listening to the hard-won advice of myself - and my crew."
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  They stood away from the group of officers sending orders to every part of the field, merely watching across the flatness of these fields, now fallow after the harvest and with the upcoming winter. Julius looked around, then moved to gain a better sight to each side - even behind. Obviously puzzled, Valens asked, "You are in expectation, Sos?"

  Julius shook his head, saying, "Nay. But a wounded animal at bay is far more dangerous than one being chased. Yon rebel men know that their doom is close unless they can escape the surrounding Legions and disappear into the northlands. I was giving wonder at what surprise that Melglos has for us this day."

  Chapter 54

  The Dux was not risking mischance on this day. All scouts had been called in to close support of the waiting Legions, rather than searching the far roads for any loose bands of slaves. Even behind, up the road already traveled, sentries were posted on the slight chance that Spartacus had managed again to pass the Romans in the dark of night.

  Ahead, a continual flow of horsemen gave notice of the oncoming rebels, even now only a few stadia ahead. More dismaying, was the count given by the messengers as to the numbers. A man on horseback and close to the enemy is hardly a painstaking censor, to give accurate count of every man, but as rider after rider returned, and most with like numbers, the officers had to accept the mismatch as real.

  "...most will not be men familiar at arms," said one. "And almost all will have spears made of farming implements."

  "Aye," said another, "But theirs is the advantage in knowing that to prevail is their only hope, and... a man with only one choice has little else to distract him."

  As Julius stood behind the officers on the platform, only half listening to the idle talk, there was a touch on his arm. He turned to see Valens nod, then point into the distance. Instantly, he saw what was indicated. The sail of the little boat of Captain Decimus had been joined by another, and far larger - the Petrel.

  Julius gave gaze with some wistfulness at his own faithful ship, and in longing to trod her decks again, leaving this land of blood to others. He had been hoping that this battle would be delayed, mayhap with Melglos again avoiding the Romans and leading them on an unsuccessful chase out of Latium, but now... This battle was unavoidable and the sooner it was concluded...

  Another scout rode up on a lathered horse - this one a sub-officer. Quickly he gave his message, pointing back and across the landscape. Nodding his understanding, Crassus turned and barked, "The Decurio gives that a large contingent is moving beyond the treeline. They will attempt to strike us in that flank." He pointed. "Caelus, bend your Legion back on the western end, to..." He looked across the field, then continued, "...to a point just... there, in line with those yellow trees. Servius! Move to fill between his and the back of the front line. Tell your Centurions to make ready to move past the ranks of Caelus if the slaves try to move even further to our flank." Both officers instantly jumped down from the platform, running with haste toward their respective Legions. Now the Dux turned to the remaining line officers, giving his blessing from the gods, then sending them to join their men. The platform was now empty of most but the Dux and the few permanent staffers - and the three Cornicenae. On order, the leather lungs of these horn players would give their signals across the far fields sending commands to the troops.

  Julius turned to climb down - his presence was unneeded here and unlikely to formulate any useful advice during a land battle, but Crassus called to give him stop at the edge. "Nay, Tribune, stay. You will be the only man here without duty, and valuable for that. It may be that you will notice something not seen by men in concentration of the battle."

  Julius nodded, motioning Valens to join him at the far edge, away from the communing staff officers. "It will be difficult to not fixate on what is about to happen to our front, but keep your eyes moving - even to the far trees and yon sea. Should you see anything of... oddness, speak and hurriedly."

  The young man nodded, seemingly anxious about the impending violence, but not such as to lose his being in panic.

  Now the day moved on leadened feet - and as if on the wings of the flying horse of the Greeks. They stood in watch for what seemed to be hours, but the shadow of the low platform seemed to leap from one tuft of grass to another. Then...

  "Look," said one of the officers. "A unit of horse."

  Indeed, it was a force of cavalry, or such it appeared. At least, it was about thirty men on mounts, all with some kind of spear or lance or such. They were cantering across the fields to stop at least a triple stadia away, apparently in wait. Their appearance did not give much alarm to the officers - the number was minimal and a man on horseback had little chance in a charge against a fully constituted line. The thrown hundred and more pila of any Century that became their mark, would skewer both rider and horse long before they made physical encounter.

  Julius looked carefully - or as such as could be done at that distance. He did not see what appeared to be a large man in lead, but again, the vision over three stadia did not give details.

  More concerning was the ranks of men now appearing, although that was not a word to be applied to the oncoming mob. The rebels did not march as soldiers, each man in his place, but walked together as a crowd on their way to some destination in the city. And it was not the formation that was disturbing but the numbers. If the scouts were correct in their estimations, then the Legions were facing twice their own count. And more.

  As the foe began to spread out from the road, he could see that men in the front had shields of a type - not as those of the Legionaries, but of every size and shape, and many apparently constructed from anything available. Julius doubted that they would block either a pilum or gladius, unless struck at an acute angle, but, anything was better than trying to block a stroke with a bare hand. Mayhap they would...

  "Tribune." Julius immediately strode to stand before the Dux. "Just to allow us to pass the time, what thoughts have you on yon formations?"

  Julius wondered if Crassus actually wanted information from a neophyte of land battles, or indeed, just needed some distraction to give wait until the battle began. After a bit of thought, he said in answer, "Just as before, their ranks have been split in twain, and also as in the previous battle, one is attempting to gain our attention to the front while the other is supposedly gathering behind those trees. It would appear that they will attempt the same strategy - a sudden attack from the trees to gain our attention, and hopefully make you move men from their places, then a swarming from the main group. The only difference appears to be the small contingent of horsemen."

  "Aye," agreed the Dux. "My officers have given the same." He gave a wry smile. "But, you do not think so." It was not a question.

  "Why would the Dux give such thought?" asked Julius, willing to play the mild jape as long as the Commander wished.

  "I have not survived this long without some knowledge of men, and I doubt that such as you would make an absolute statement with such certainty and with so little information."

  Julius nodded. "We must remember that Spartacus is not some merely escaped slave who has had instruction with a blade, but a man who has bested several Roman armies, and as easily as a Matron chases fowls from her courtyard. Somewhere in his past is military instruction, or mayhap he was just given such by the gods, as it is said of Cincinnatus." Now he looked across at the gathering men, only a stadium away, then continued, "He will not use the same strategy as last time. I suspect that he will make the first effort with the men we see, with him hoping that you are continually looking over your shoulder for the real attack. And unwilling to move your forces until you discover the hidden move. He has to know that we are aware of his unit moving in the woods - as many scouts as we have sent could not possibly have done their sentry-work without notice."

  "Aye. Your reasoning may not be correct, but I see no obvious flaw."

  "Of course," continued, Julius. "My thoughts assume that there is not yet a third mass of rebels, hidden and even now about
to make their charge."

  Now came a grim smile from the Dux. "As you observe, one cannot say with absoluteness of anything about this Spartacus, but... If a third force is indeed hiding and undiscovered even now, then the morrow will see the officers of the scouts nailed up to give pondering of their error."

  "May I order the signal three, Sos?" This was his senior staff officer.