by K. M. Ashman
Severus stared at the hill.
‘Why do you think we are at risk?’ he asked. ‘This area has been in Roman hands for years. There are no tribes that would dare stand against us.’
‘If they are friendly, why keep themselves hidden and take a rough road through the forest?’ answered Prydain. ‘This track is far easier. They hide themselves for a reason.’
Severus continued to sweep the hillside for a sign, pondering whether to trust this man’s instincts or beat him with his Vitis for insubordination.
‘You are sure of this?’ he asked.
‘As sure as I can be,’ answered Prydain.
‘Why haven’t you mentioned it before?’
Prydain looked over at Remus who stared back at him with loathing.
‘I did not think, Sir,’ said Prydain eventually.
‘No matter,’ said Severus. ‘We will investigate.’
‘For your sake I hope you are right, slave-boy,’ snarled Remus. ‘Now get back into line.’
Prydain ran back to his position as Centurion Severus un-strapped his helmet from his chest.
‘Actually, Optio,’ said Severus quietly, ‘I hope he is wrong. This Century has only seen the training ground. Between us, there are only you, me and the eight Tessaria with any battle experience. If there are hostile cavalry out there, we stand little chance.’ He fastened his helmet to his head. ‘Get them ready,’ he said. ‘We take no chances.’
The trainees donned their helmets and were fully briefed. The mood had changed and everyone was alert as they scanned the surrounding hills for any threat, their hearts beating with a mix of excitement and fear. Severus had moved to the head of the column and Remus to the rear, ensuring they stayed tight together, their only chance in the event of an attack. Each Tessarius gave words of encouragement to their Contubernia as they marched, ensuring the men stayed alert and disciplined.
‘Listen to the Centurion,’ instructed Julius. ‘And remember your training. When any command comes, act immediately, don’t think. He has a greater understanding of tactics and should an attack come, gives no quarter. Your life or theirs, it is as simple as that.’
Just short of the narrow valley exit, Severus brought the column to a halt. Remus came forward alongside the Centurion.
‘If you were to lay an ambush, where would you do it?’ asked Severus taking a swig from his bottle.
‘In the glade to the front,’ said Optio. ‘Amongst the trees their horses are useless.’
‘I agree,’ said Severus and lifted his water bottle for another drink but stopped suddenly, the flask only halfway to his lips.
‘Looks like the slave-boy was right,’ he said and threw the flask to one side.
Over two hundred men emerged from the tree line to their front and trotted across the glade to block the Century’s way forward out of the valley. Two dozen horsemen followed them out and formed a single line in front of the foot soldiers, one carrying a white banner emblazoned with an embroidered emblem in the shape of a raven.
‘Strange,’ said Severus. ‘That banner, it is familiar yet doesn’t belong around here.’
‘This area is settled,’ said Remus. ‘There is no knowledge of any hostiles for miles around.’
Severus’s eyes widened in recognition and he took a single step forward toward the riders.
‘That’s because they are not from around here, Optio,’ he said, ‘they are from hundreds of miles away and we are in big trouble.’
‘Who are they?’ asked the Optio.
‘If I am not mistaken, they are Germanic and the one carrying the flag is called Hanzer!’
‘You know him?’
‘Know him?’ said Severus, ‘I killed him, or at least I thought I did. Sort out the men; I will see what he wants.’ He strode out alone into the middle the glade, seeking parley with the deathly quiet horde facing him. When he was halfway, he stopped and the rider carrying their flag galloped forward to meet him, reining in his horse at the last minute to kick up dust over the Centurion. The two commanders stared at each other, sizing each other up.
‘I know your face,’ snarled the rider in broken Latin.
‘And I yours, Hanzer,’ said Severus.
The horseman straightened up and stared at the Centurion for a long time.
‘You were there,’ he said eventually in recognition, ‘with Gabinius, when he burnt my village to the ground!’
Severus didn’t answer but stayed alert as the rider walked his horse slowly around him, speaking as he went.
‘You were there when his soldiers raped our women and slaughtered our elders. You were there when they desecrated our shrines and chased our children into the river, laughing as they drowned.’ He paused, ‘and you were there when they killed my wife took any survivors into slavery!’
When he had completely circled the Centurion, Severus finally spoke.
‘Yes I served with Gabinius,’ he said, ‘and I accept that your tribe was wiped out. But it is no less than what you did to the legions in the Teutoberg. Did your tribe show quarter to our soldiers, our women, our children? Over twenty thousand died that day. None escaped, so when Gabinius led the campaign to find last the eagle, there was no holding our men. The blood is shared, the pain equal.’
‘How is it equal?’ shouted Hanzer. ‘Even now your soldiers butcher my people. Thirty five years after Teutoberg, we are still dying at the point of Roman blades. There is no equality.’
‘Then you should be there defending them,’ shouted Severus.
‘My tribe are all gone, Roman.’ he spat. ‘Speared at Roman hands or serving as slaves in your death camps digging for salt. We few, are all that remain, and we followed your legions out of the forest when they marched here, to seek final redress.’
‘Against a legion,’ sneered Severus, ‘you will be swatted like a fly?’
‘Fear is for those who do not want to die,’ said Hanzer, ‘we do not fear death, Roman, we only tire. Tire of seeing our people crushed beneath the invading heel. Tire of hiding in the swamps and thickets like scared animals and tire of letting the Roman oppressors carry on with their lives as if nothing has happened. But no more, it is time to join our ancestors around their fires, and if we can take some heads as gifts, then all the better.’
Severus realized this man and his followers were embarked on a one-way mission and there would be no reasoning with him. He tried one last time to avoid the seemingly inevitable confrontation.
‘You are in our way,’ he said. ‘We seek no conflict, let us pass in peace.’
‘Peace?’ spat Hanzer. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word.’
‘Let us pass,’ said Severus, ‘and no one will be hurt. You are no match for a fully armed Century.’
‘Perhaps not, but don’t take me for a fool, Roman.’ came the reply. ‘You bear no standard. These are not battle ready troops you lead, but trainees. I have watched your camp from the hills and blessed the Gods when you took the mountain route. It seems I will have my retribution after all and if I die in the process, then so be it.’
Severus cursed under his breath; his bluff had been called. There was nothing left for him to do but square up.
‘Have it your way, Hanzer,’ he said, ‘but, know this; there will be no quarter given. I will personally ensure you meet your ancestors, and this time my Gladius will finish what my Pugio started.’
Hanzer stared in fury at the Roman, realizing this was the actual soldier that had stabbed him in the heat of battle and left him to die in the mud of the river two years ago.
‘Prepare yourself, Roman,’ he shouted, ‘one of us dies today!’ He spun his horse around to gallop back to join the remnants of his tribe.
‘So be it!’ said Severus and turned to join his own troops.
‘Discard your Furcas,’ roared Severus as he approached the trainees. ‘Battle formation, full square facing me, …Move!’
The soldiers dropped their spare kit and formed rapidly into ten ranks of n
ine, including the instructors.
‘Right, you lot,’ he continued, ‘listen to me very carefully. This rabble’s tribe wiped out the three legions at Teutoberg, slaughtering thousands. Now they want to add you to that list. Make no mistake, they intend to kill every last one of us.’
‘But that is not going to happen!’ he roared as he paced back and fore. ‘You are better than these heathen, you are legionaries. You are well trained, you are disciplined and you are Roman! They seek a fight, but they will be disappointed, for we do not bring a fight, we bring death. They have picked on the wrong army, for they have picked on Rome, and now, Rome will wipe them from the face of the earth.’
The soldiers cheered wildly, their pulses racing from the Centurion’s stirring words.
‘I have fought against Germanic warriors on many occasions,’ he continued, ‘and though their assault will be fierce, they lack imagination and rely heavily on the full frontal assault. They will expect us to form a defensive square and will rely on archers and horses before attacking from all sides. This is their weakness, so this is what we are going to do.’
For the next few minutes Severus outlined his strategy to the instructors and the scared men, each listening intently to the Centurion as if their very lives depended on it, as in truth, they most definitely did!
Cassus swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry, and wished he had drained his water bottle as instructed by Julius before discarding it with the rest of his equipment not necessary for the fight. Severus’s plan was simple, but relied heavily on the recruits remembering all the moves learned on those tiring drill days back at camp. Cassus’s blood was racing as he anticipated his first battle. This was why he had joined, and despite the fact that they were supposed to have at least, another month out in the field before being even considered for battle, his heart drummed in anticipation.
‘Ready,’ asked Prydain at his side.
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ answered Cassus. ‘Just make sure you remember your training. You are covering my left, remember?’
They both returned their concentration to the agitated crowd of warriors to their front. The taunts seemed to go on forever as the opposition built their courage, but each time they came, the warriors edged closer. Finally, their ranks opened, and a group of thirty men ran through to their front, forming a line of their own, each drawing their bows back to their cheeks in unison. Centurion Severus and Optio Remus were stood slightly to one side of the Century and spotted the risk immediately.
‘Enemy archers,’ roared Severus. ‘Century, form Testudo!’
All the soldiers in the outer ranks, presented their shields outwards and crouched down to protect every inch of their own body and of those behind them. Those in the centre ranks lifted their shields above the group’s head, each overlapping the next to protect the squad from arrows above. Beneath the shield cover, the tension was enormous as the soldiers prepared for their first and possibly last taste of battle.
‘Lift those shields higher!’ screamed Julius. ‘Get them off your heads. Brace!’
Those holding the shields, eased them upwards to arm’s length in confusion, but within seconds, the reasoning was clear, as the points of dozens of arrows thudded into the shields, many smashing through the laminated wood into the gloom of the protected Century beneath. Battle had begun.
Julius peered over the lip of his shield toward the archers.
‘Brace! he screamed again, each time a volley was fired. The air within the Testudo was thick with sweat and fear as arrow after arrow rained down, smashing into the legionary shields. A man screamed toward the rear rank as an arrow found a way through the defensive shield.
‘Man down!’ shouted a voice in panic.
‘Silence!’ roared an instructor. ‘Step up, seal the gap. We will help him later.’
Within minutes, the onslaught eased and Cassus peered over the lip of his own shield. All around him, the ground was a forest of arrow shafts where they had fallen short of the target. The enemy warriors were closer now, having taken advantage of the arrow storm to advance.
Remus and Severus peeled off the side of the Century, and Cassus watched in admiration as Severus casually cut away the dozen arrows piercing his shield with one swipe of his Gladius.
‘Report,’ shouted Remus.
‘Two down, three wounded,’ came a reply.
‘Better than expected,’ murmured Severus to Remus, his eyes never leaving the enemy. ‘Here come their cavalry.’
The enemy horsemen charged forward toward the Century, each holding a lance in one hand and brandishing a sword or axe in the other.
‘Open order!’ screamed Severus and the whole Century exploded into what seemed like chaos, but with speed borne from constant practice on the parade square, over ninety men rapidly reformed into individual Contubernia, each a square of nine men including the Tessarius.
The first Contubernium was positioned at the front, effectively the point of a large wedge with the next two squads, ten paces to either flank and ten paces back. Another two were further back, extending the flanks even wider, and the whole thing was mirrored to the rear, forming a diamond shape over a much larger area of ground. The two remaining Contubernia were positioned close together in the centre, providing a reserve force of twenty men.
The deployment ensured the maximum use of available blades without weakening the Roman strength for close quarter fighting, and ensured a strong element of all-round defence at Century level, as well as individual Contubernia. In addition, the positioning of the groups meant that there were wide channels between them, designed to draw the charging horsemen between them and face spear points from both sides.
‘Middle and rear ranks, throwing Pila,’ ordered Remus. ‘Front rank, heavy Pila, present!’
The soldiers did as they were ordered as the horses thundered over the ground, carrying their screaming riders into battle.
‘Here they come;’ shouted Julius, ‘hold firm!’
The Germanic cavalry reached their lines, and though a dozen throwing axes smashed into raised shields, the expected impact of the war horses never came as they veered into the channels, exactly as Severus had expected.
‘Side rank, Pilae!’ screamed Severus, and the legionaries launched a lethal assault on the cavalry racing between their ranks.
The effect was devastating, and Germanic blood sprayed everywhere as the Romans slaughtered both men and beasts in a frenzy of aggression and adrenalin. A horse galloped toward Severus, aiming his lance at the Centurion’s back. Prydain realized Severus hadn’t seen the threat, but before he could call out a warning, Optio Remus appeared from nowhere and launched himself at the rider, knocking him clean off his mount. Both fell to the ground and were winded for a few seconds before the warrior gathered his wits and drew a blade from his waistband. He staggered toward the Optio who was still on hands and knees, but as he raised the blade to administer the killing blow, Prydain charged from the line and drove his heavy Pila through the attacker’s spine.
The warrior’s head flung back in pain, dropping the sword to the ground in agony, and for a second, Prydain stared in horror at the warrior speared on his Pila, the point of which had carried flesh and bone through the man’s back. It was the first man he had ever killed.
Optio Remus stood and barely glanced at the dead man before turning to Prydain.
‘Don’t just stand there!’ he shouted. ‘Withdraw your blade and get back in line.’
Three riders broke through the Roman rear ranks and galloped back toward their foot soldiers as Severus screamed the next order.
‘Reform!’ he ordered over the cheering. ‘Cuneus formation.’
The soldiers scrambled to form the blunt headed attack wedge.
‘Their arrows are used!’ shouted Severus. ‘Their cavalry lie at our feet.’ He looked over at the confused warriors across the glade. ‘I estimate there are two hundred of them and ninety of us, that makes it about even in my eyes. We have defen
ded enough, now we advance.’
The attacking wedge marched forward across the grass leaving their casualties behind them. Across the glade, Hanzer rode amongst his infantry, whipping them up to a frenzy. They had not expected their riders to be so easily defeated and had certainly not expected the Romans to advance.
‘Prepare Pilae,’ called Remus,’
The legionaries changed the overhand grip on their Pila to the underhand throwing grasp, raising them to shoulder level.
The Germanic warriors were screaming in fury and frustration and they finally charged across the grass to meet the oncoming Romans.
‘All ranks, loose Pilae,’ screamed Severus. ‘Century…Chaaarge!’
Cassus launched his Pilum as hard as he could, seeing it slam into the neck of a young warrior before him, and with a blood curdling scream, raced forward to crash into the first line of Germanic warriors.
Cassus leapt over the first row of speared men sprawled at his feet. The two ranks had smashed into each other at full speed, each well aware that the first to flinch would lose the advantage. Cassus’s whole body shuddered with the impact as he drove his shoulder behind his Scutum to reinforce his assault. At the same time, the two ranks behind added their impetus to the charge, until Cassus and his comrades thought their backs would break under the pressure. The weight from both directions meant he could hardly breathe let alone manoeuvre, though he did manage to thrust his Gladius between his own shield and that of the soldier next to him, unaware if it tasted barbarian flesh or not. Suddenly the pressure eased and he managed to take half a step forward as the opposing ranks gave ground.
‘Push!’ screamed Julius. ‘Break through them!’
Cassus continued to push with all his might, well aware that the whole aim of the impact was to drive an armed wedge through the opposing ranks to divide their strength. Suddenly Cassus realised that the enemy were being forced backwards and at last, he had room to manoeuvre.
‘Attack!’ screamed Julius. ‘Punch and thrust!’
Cassus’s training kicked in and he punched his Scutum as hard as he could into the face of a screaming bearded warrior to his front, following it up with a thrust from his Gladius. Steel met bone, and though the German tried to return the blow with one from his own axe, the damage was done, and it was easily deflected by Cassus’s Scutum. He withdrew his Gladius and thrust again, this time having the satisfaction of seeing the man fall to his knees, He smashed the sole of his Caligae into the face of his opponent, using the force to withdraw his Gladius from the dying man’s ribs. Strangely, he was more sickened by the feel of smashed teeth and jaw beneath his heel, than the fact he had just cut the man’s heart in two.