“If the soldiers attack from behind as you make your pass,” Gaius observed. “None of the small units will live to make a second pass.”
“They will if we put two shields at the threesomes’ backs,” explained Geraldus seeing the value in Alerio’s idea. “We can field sixteen units. Seventeen if one is only three shields.”
“I’d recommend fourteen five-man units,” Alerio proposed. “We’ll need the Centurion, Sergeant, and Corporal with Legionaries online to gather the survivors and organize the retreat. Plus, we’ll need the services of fourteen Velites.”
“You want to take light infantrymen into a close quarter’s fight?” inquired Gaius.
“No, sir. We need them to steal twenty-eight horses while we attack,” Alerio stated. “The horses are for our retreat. To carry the wounded and to drag us to your position, sir.”
“Centurion Geraldus, are you in agreement with this plan?” question Gaius.
“It’ll deliver maximum damage on the enemy and minimum casualties on us,” Geraldus confirmed. “Senior Tribune Claudius, Sixth Century will deliver your day.”
“I know and it’s appreciated,” Gaius acknowledged. “Go. And may the blessing of Mars be with you all.”
Chapter 27 – Pull Us Out
“Whose Coalemus inspired plan was this?” Private Hermanus asked.
“That would be the slightly stupid weapons instructor on your right,” Private Vindictam answered.
“Just keep it tight,” Alerio urged while ignoring the insult. “And remember to take it slow so our rear can keep close.”
“My rear is puckered and as closed as you can get,” commented Vindictam.
“Honey Cakes, we’re here to keep your rear from getting chopped off,” one of the two Legionaries at their backs advised Vindictam. “Walk slow and you’ll have it when we get back.”
In the distance, they could see rows of fires in the cavalry camp. Centurion Geraldus’ shape separated from the darkness as well as ten Legionaries crowding around him.
“We step off on the count of fifty,” the line officer instructed. “Runners. One, two, three, go. Four, five, six.”
Five of the Legionaries acting as runners went to the left and the others moved right. They whispered the count as they walked. By the count of twenty-five, the Sergeant on one side and the Corporal on the other plus all fourteen assault units were counting in sync. Some of the runners stayed with the NCOs and others returned to the Centurion at the center of the formation. They would act as a defensive line and gather the assault units when they returned from the attack.
“Forty-eight,” Alerio counted.
“Forty-nine,” Hermanus continued.
“Fifty,” announced Honey Cakes. “Forward.”
From the deep night, fourteen teams of Legionaries marched towards the sleeping cavalry camp. With the space between the units, not all the sentries were taken out. A cry of alarm went up, but the cavalrymen were exhausted from days of riding and sleeping on the ground. A few rose and ran to the perimeter to check on the alarm. They died first.
***
Alerio’s view over the infantry shield and under the brim of his helmet showed them approaching the edge of a group of sleeping men. Hermanus shifted his line of march. Alerio on his right and Honey Cakes on his left adjusted to maintain alignment with the center shield. Then they were jabbing cavalrymen and stomping bodies as they moved through the center of the campsite.
The screams and shouts awakened the camp and men rose clutching spears and swords. But there wasn’t a solid line of enemy forces to attack. Looking around, each group of defenders was limited to shapes in the dark. Some caught a glimpse of a packed Legionary unit. They ran at the Legionaries. Rear shields deflected the spears and javelins stabbed out, leaving even more Syracusan and Echetla horsemen dying on the ground.
Another campfire glowed but this one had seven Syracusans standing side by side with spears. An iron tip clipped the top of the Legion shield and scraped the side of Alerio’s helmet. Catching the soldier leaning in for the jab, Corporal Sisera sliced across his face and poked the man next to him in the eye. Then, Hermanus powered into the soldiers bullying them over and knocking three of them to the ground. The five Legionaries stomped the soldiers as they moved towards the next campfire.
Cries of attack, attack roared across the cavalry camp. The survivors behind the Legionaries tracked the paths of each assault unit by the trail of dead and suffering. They followed the line of scattered campfires and attacked.
Alerio raised his head and saw only four more wood fires. Behind him, he heard the smack of swords and sharp reports of spears on the rear shields.
“Hermanus. Stay with Honey Cakes,” he shouted. “We’re going back. I’ll take the center shield.”
Hermanus’ shield pushed Alerio’s, allowing the Corporal to step back, spin around and shove his shield between the Legionaries in the rear.
“Forward,” Alerio shouted when the two locked in with his shield.
The Echetla and Syracuse soldiers had been dashing in and striking the receding shields. After following for half the camp, they had bunched up and fallen into a rotation. They would dash in from different quadrants, beat on the rear guards and take a partial step back to safety. It made sense as a shield wall wasn’t a cavalrymen’s preferred type of fighting. When a third shield appeared and the assault unit suddenly came at them, the horsemen backed into each other.
“Push,” Alerio ordered. They broke into the wall of stumbling bodies. “Push.”
Stomping and stabbing, they moved towards another group of cavalrymen.
All the javelin tips were out of alignment and cracks appeared in the shafts. While a devastating weapon, when thrown or plunged into a foe, the iron and wood had limits. And the assault across the camp and now over halfway back caused some to shatter while putting others on the verge of breaking. Alerio kept his javelin as it let him reach out and keep the soldiers back from his shield.
Not all the cavalrymen were caught up in trying to reach the Legionaries. Some stood back, raised spears and, chucked them over their fellow riders and into the assault units.
Legionaries practiced blocking spear tips, sword blades, battle axes, and long knives with the big infantry shields. It became second nature, a reflex and, they were good at it. But a shaft angling down from a dark sky was practically invisible.
The Legionary to Alerio’s left fell to his knees and his shield began to fall forward. To prevent it from opening a section of the unit’s defenses, Alerio hooked the shield with his foot and jerked it and the falling man back. That’s when he saw the spear shaft protruding from the Legionary’s neck. The iron tip had found the narrow gap between the helmet, the shield and the top of his chest armor.
“Brace,” instructed Alerio as he threw his splintering javelin. Bending down and reaching behind his shield, he pulled the dead Legionary’s gladius. Then he ordered. “Advance, advance, advance.”
Alerio and the other Legionary shoved with their shields and followed up with stabs. Soldiers fell and were stomped as the assault unit broke through the human wall. Behind him, Alerio heard Vindictam and Hermanus grunting as the wall of cavalrymen closed in and attacked the retreating unit. Briefly, a space opened in front of him and Alerio resisted the urge to move faster. It wasn’t possible. His rear guard walked backward as they fought off spears and swords.
The moon rose and cast a weak light over the battleground that had been the bivouac location for the Syracuse and Echetla cavalry. In the illumination, groups of horsemen ran to help the wounded or raced off to check on their horses. But most ran to engage the Legionaries.
Off to his left, Alerio caught a glimpse of another Legion assault unit, then a hoard of soldiers closed in and he was blocking and stabbing as he shuffled forward.
Alerio’s shield pressed solidly against the adjacent shield. Then the even pressure changed. The bottom of the Legionary’s shield rested on the ground and the man stoo
d bent over his bleeding right arm.
“Honey Cakes, wrap his arm,” directed Alerio as he began to slash frantically at the cavalrymen. His attempt to do the work of two and the ferocity of the attack backed the horsemen up. With his head half turned, Alerio called back. “Hermanus, we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
“How do we exit gracefully?” the Legionary asked between hacks and stabs with his gladius.
“He’s good for now,” Vindictam reported the condition of the wounded Legionary. Then he added. “He can hold his shield but not much else.”
“Hermanus, when I give the word, move to the front,” Alerio instructed. “Honey Cakes, shields only. Help him keep up.”
“Are you going to pull a weapons instructor trick out of your helmet?” Hermanus inquired.
“Just the opposite,” admitted Alerio as his borrowed gladius bashed aside an Echetla knife. “If I caught a Legionary doing this, I’d beat him to his knees.”
“This should be interesting,” Honey Cakes ventured.
“Hermanus, step up here,” instructed Alerio as he threw his shield at the cavalrymen and drew his gladius.
With the best shield in Sixth Century and a slightly insane Corporal, brandishing two gladii, the assault unit waded into the cavalrymen.
***
Hermanus’ shield smashed forward, tilted, and hooked a spear tip. From side to side, it moved in jerks, hammering cavalrymen, assaulting those to the Legionary’s front and protecting Corporal Sisera’s right side.
Alerio’s wrists crossed briefly before the gladii sickled outward hacking spears, deflecting swords and cutting cavalry armor and flesh. Then, each gladius wove a figure eight pattern and the Echetla soldiers leaned back. While they could see the Legionaries and helmets in the moonlight and their own spears and swords, the speed of the two Legion blades caused them to blur.
An opening appeared and a cavalryman thrust his blade forward. Alerio’s left wrist made small circular movements and his gladius deflected the blade but it didn’t knock it aside. Rather, the Legion blade circled the sword trapping it in a cone of spinning steel. Then, Alerio tightened the cone and, with a flick of his writs, he sent the sword flying from the soldier’s hand. It twirled into another cavalryman. The unarmed soldier and the man who was hit by the dislodged blade eased around the Legion assault unit and walked away from the fighting.
While the left gladius disarmed the man, Alerio’s right gladius hacked downward cleaving a horseman from forehead to chin. Blood spewed and coated the men on either side. Whirling blades that seemed to be everywhere, a shield pounding at them and splatters of warm blood, proved too much for the soldiers who usually fought from horseback. Panic ran through their ranks and they scrambled over one another to escape the assault of Alerio’s terrible blades and Hermanus’ punishing shield.
“Honey Cakes, you still with us?” Alerio shouted as the last of the cavalrymen ran, leaving an open path from the camp to the dark field where the Centurion and blocking force waited.
“We’re here, weapons instructor,” Vindictam assured him. “That two-gladius-thing is one trick I don’t care to learn.”
“My shield is in need of repairs,” Hermanus announced. He shook his left arm. The splintered edges and separated sections of his ravished infantry shield rattled and a couple pieces fell off. “Nope. I need a new shield.”
Alerio raised up and looked back at the camp. Officers were organizing the cavalrymen into an attack line.
“Let’s move it,” suggested Alerio. “We’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest.”
They moved quickly through the night being wary of an ambush. It never came and, soon, they were stopped by Geraldus’ voice.
“Fall back to the horses,” the Centurion directed as he grasped Alerio by the shoulders and pointed him in the correct direction.
On either side, voices came from the dark instructing assault units where to rally. With no need for stealth, the blocking force and the NCOs shouted out searching for lost units. Some units were down to one, two or three Legionaries. The survivors were pushed towards the rally point. Some assault units, however, would never respond to the calls.
***
Alerio, Hermanus, Vindictam and the wounded Legionary, easily found the rally point. Horses stomped and Velites pulled the returning men to separate areas. One grabbed the wounded Legionary, tossed him over a horse’s back and handed lines to Alerio, Hermanus, and Vindictam.
“Hang on to these,” the Skirmisher directed. He gathered three more Legionaries and handed them the ends of ropes. “Fall and you’ll be left behind. Hold on.”
The skirmisher vaulted onto a second horse’s back and nudged the animal into motion. Behind him, the lead line to the second horse tightened. At a steady gait, the horses moved out of the rally point. As they progressed, the slack was taken up in the six dangling lines. Before his rope tightened, Alerio began to jog. Soon all six Legionaries were running behind the horses. Their pace sustained by the ropes attached to the powerful animals.
Legionaries ran. They sprinted in battle, ran for exercise and competed in footraces. But the remaining members of Sixth Century were exhausted. If given the order to run, they would for a short distance before collapsing. With the tow lines pulling them, they were able to stumble along in a daze without thinking, simply moving their legs.
The hint of a sunrise went unnoticed. Focusing on their clutching hands, they ignored everything except the ropes and the burning sensation in their legs. Far from the cavalrymen’s camp, the skirmisher slowed the horses giving the Legionaries some relief from the punishing pace.
***
Alerio barely noticed when the horses passed between the picket spikes and slowed to a stop. With the sun in his eyes, he walked forward almost bumping into the rear-end of the horse. Someone offered him a wineskin but his hands were frozen on the rope.
“Sixth Century,” Centurion Geraldus commanded in a weak, drained voice. “Fall in at the medical tent.”
“I’d rather eat,” an equally tired voice called back.
“First let the Medics check you out,” replied Geraldus. “Then food and rest.”
Alerio released the rope and let it dangle in the dirt. Looking around, he saw the rest of Claudius detachment digging trenches or pounding stakes into the embankment. He followed Legionaries to an area near the medical wagon.
“How many made it, sir?” he asked the Centurion.
“A few dropped off the ropes,” Geraldus responded. “Hopefully they can walk in before the Echetla cavalry sends out patrols.”
“How many, sir?” insisted Alerio.
“Thirty-seven reached the rally point,” the Centurion reported.
Sixth Century had lost almost half of the Legionaries who had participated in the assault. The loss of so many infantrymen was awful but not unexpected. The worst part, they had no idea how badly they had hurt the enemy cavalry.
The medic was surprised when he checked Alerio’s hands. Except for the weapons instructor, all the left hands of the Century were rubbed raw from the ropes. Legionaries were trained to use only their right hands for the gladius so they were uniform in a shield wall. Alerio practiced gladius drills with both hands and had calluses on his left as well as on his right hand.
“You are good, Death Caller,” the medic pronounced. “Go get some stew, eat and rest.”
A short while later, Corporal Sisera placed the empty bowl on the ground, stretched out and closed his eyes. He’d just fallen asleep when a cry went up around the Legion camp.
“Riders coming. Centuries form up,” Centurions and NCOs ordered.
Legionaries dropped their mallets and shovels and ran for their armor and shields.
Alerio raised up on an elbow and glanced over the trench and the partially constructed picket spikes. Ragged columns of Syracuse and Echetla cavalrymen trotted off the road heading directly for the unfortified camp. Pushing to his feet, the Corporal staggered to the supply wagon in search of an infan
try shield.
But a Centurion’s call stopped him and the weapons instructor turned around and went back to his place in the shade.
“We are only responding with one heavy infantry Century and two squads of Velites,” the line officer announced. “The rest of you get back to work.”
The cavalrymen only numbered about one hundred. Alerio figured the rest were burying their dead. Or were dead, he hoped as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Chapter 28 – Fear and Superstition
Two days later as the sun rose, columns of Echetla soldiers marched from the road and spread out behind their cavalry.
“Think they’ll come right for us?” Vindictam asked.
Sixth Century stood in positions spread out behind the trench. Because of their reduced numbers, another Century covered the back side of the perimeter.
“They look tired,” Hermanus commented after studying the dragging feet of the soldiers. “Their officers must have pushed them pretty hard.”
“Maybe they need a good long rest,” Vindictam ventured as he glanced across the camp and down the road heading south. “Maybe long enough for the Legion to get here.”
“Honey Cakes, they will or they won’t,” Hermanus advised. “And there’s not a thing you can do to change our fate. Except to fight.”
“I can do that,” Vindictam assured his squad mate.
In the field beyond the reinforced camp, fifteen hundred soldiers from Echetla broke into units and began setting up campsites.
“I guess they need to eat first,” Hermanus suggested. “What do you think, Death Caller?”
Alerio strolled up from the adjacent position. He was touring the defensives for Centurion Geraldus. This freed the line officer from the duty so he could meet with his Optio and Tesserarius to decide the best approach for reforming the squads.
“I think they should have brought more men,” Alerio replied as he pointed and appeared to count the enemy soldiers. “Just as I suspected. It’s no more than a three on one drill. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Fortune Reigns Page 25