Vae Victis

by Francis Mulhern

“We should overwhelm them” yelled the blond-haired chieftain, his eyes narrowed and scarred cheek quivering with rage. “Look” he let an arm fly towards the battle which raged ahead of them. “Our warriors stand idle. They should be charging the enemy and taking their heads as we did at the river” the chieftain said dismissively.

  “This Roman is no fool like that one was” Brennus snarled in return. “Use your eyes Connixis” he said as he lifted his chin and nodded towards the battlefield. “Look how he has built a wall of shields and how they hold the warriors” he said as he let his gaze wander across the Gallic chiefs who had arrived next to him moments before. Brennus noted Aengus slide his dagger slowly from his belt and quickly continued. “We must think our way through this, friend” he added as he let his mouth fall into a thin line and set his vision on the battle line. “We cannot simply run into this battle. See how it is doing us no good now” he said as the leaders turned to see the Gallic forces almost coming to a stand-still.

  “Send the cavalry at them” Connixis snapped, his blue eyes turning back to Brennus, who ignored him completely. Connixis turned abruptly to the men beside him at this sleight. “If Brennus of the Senones won’t attack these dogs from Rome, then I will” he said menacingly. Eyes darted from Brennus to Connixis as the air grew tense around the men and a few grumbles came from those who sat and stared at the Gallic leaders. Brennus huffed, his shoulder rising and falling as he turned to look directly at Connixis.

  “Go then, hot-headed friend” he snapped. “Go. See if your war band make any difference to the battle. But I tell you” he said as he waved a finger at the chieftain. “If you need help from the Senones because you underestimate this Roman, we will not be there for you” he said as Connixis’ face growled back at him in disdain for his words. “We will stick to the plan that we all agreed. This battle has a long way to go yet, friend.” Brennus’ phrasing of the final word caused Connixis to narrow his eyes and draw his mouth tight. “We still out-number them two to one, at least” he said. “What man can overcome such odds?” he asked. “See” he called, a sudden grin splitting his face. “My own brother has broken their lines. Ha” his head rocked back as he pointed to the place where Belinus had broken through the Romans lines and was hacking at Romans as they fell all around him. “There is proof that we can beat these Romans” Brennus spat as Connixis’ face showed the sudden fear that he had made an enemy of his leader at just the wrong time.

  Connixis turned and stared hard at the fight ahead of them, seeing the sudden indentation where Gauls now flooded to gain access to the Roman lines. The cheers rose as more men ran across to the breach and started to chop and hack, the screams and disorder becoming manic. He bit his lip in frustration before turning back to Brennus and nodding. “Then I am yours to command” he said. “Send this hot head in there to fight to the death for you and the Senones” he said meekly as he let his shoulders fall.

  Brennus huffed, his eyes boring into the face of the dissenting chieftain. He sighed and started to grin. “Send your sons Connixis. They should prove themselves to their leader” he said, the malice in his voice making it clear what he meant. Connixis gave one last look of anger to his chief and nodded before turning away from the group of leaders.

  “Aengus” Brennus said, his voice now cheery and light. “Prepare the sacrifices. We will have Roman blood for the gods tonight” he grinned as the leaders began to cheer, punching the air as they let their horses’ whirl and dance on the spot. Brennus grinned and looked back up at the scene ahead of him, the dust starting to obscure the battle where he could just make out the large frame of his brother as his sword rose and fell again and again. Something glinted in the middle of the dust and he cocked his head as a sudden dread fell over him. The dust cloud swirled and a shape seemed to hover around his brother. The dust created a swirling image, the wings of a bird seemed to wrap around the space where his men were fighting, the dust swirling and clawing as their swords worked frantically. A shout, just ahead of him, Connixis calling and pointing. The vision had gone as quickly as it had arrived, the dusty shapes now nothing more than a swirling cloud of grey and brown. Then the shouts and calls, a voice he knew, roaring in fury, as if in death. He caught his breath and looked to Aengus with wide eyes as his cousin, the druid, stared at the source of the noise and placed a hand on the blade of his dagger. A cheer, then a groan, from the melee. Gauls began to run, turning from the Romans before their leaders called them back to the battle. Shouts of Camillus and then more screams and groans. His mind was filled with fear and dread as he suddenly felt emptiness engulf him. What was this? What was happening? Without looking up at the shouting men who came racing back towards him he knew his brother was dead. And he knew that this Marcus Furius Camillus had killed him.

  Growling like a bear he stared at Aengus. “Bring my war hammer” he snarled, his teeth white against the red beard which was covered in white clay and combed into a tight line. As he spoke the other leaders gathered around him and started calling for orders, the fear evident in their eyes. Connixis was already bearing down on him like a vulture preparing to sink his sharp beak into his flesh. The Gallic chieftains milled around as Aengus strode back through their midst and thrust the hammer at his cousins’ hand.

  “Vae Victis” Brennus snarled as he took the hammer and stared at the Gallic leaders. “The time has come to finish this” he shouted as he rammed the foot of the hammer into the floor and leapt from his horse. “Now, we attack. Now we destroy these Romans. Now we take no prisoners and return to their city and tear it to the ground” he screamed, the anger now totally overwhelming him. The leaders span on their horses, some unsure whether to jump to the ground and follow him or turn and flee as the man had turned completely mad.

  Brennus started to walk towards the Roman line as he heard Connixis call something at him, his arm rising agitatedly as he pointed towards the growing noise in the battle line.

  “...attacking” the voice said.

  Brennus snapped his head back as he suddenly understood the words Connixis had said. The Romans are attacking.

  ************

  Marcus called the orders faster than he meant to, his mind a whirl of actions and reactions. Narcius looked to him with that quizzical look which meant he really had no idea what he meant and so Marcus took a slow, deep, breath and started again.

  He had called all the senior officers to him as the battle continued to rage. Several hundred Gauls had fallen back slightly at the death of Belinus, their groans continuing, but now being outstripped by their officers as they called for renewed attacks. Marcus fingered the wooden eagle around his neck.

  “They are in disarray” he said as he caught each officer’s eyes. “They will attack the centre now will all of their remaining forces. Caedicius, take the left wing out further, cover us with the cavalry line. Cossus, same on the right, but keep it tighter as they have more horse on their left” he nodded to the two men as they nodded back. “Narcius” he looked quickly at the men in front of him. “Manlius and I will take the centre line and thicken it to receive the new attack. Shields up and swords ready. Tubero, Apuleius, Rufus, Calvus and Cassius” he nodded to the other officers and to their Centurions. “We will step forward, meet the attack and allow the centre to fall back ten steps. At this point we will bring the wings in and surround the enemy. Caedicius, Cossus” he said with a final nod “you hold our flanks, and our lives, in the hands of your cavalry. Do not” he stressed the words “let their horse get around us” he grinned as the two men, stern-faced, grinned back at him momentarily as he looked at them.

  “Questions” he asked quickly.

  “What order for the attack on the flanks” Caedicius asked. Marcus nodded thoughtfully as he creased his brows.

  “Three blasts on the horn, and” he looked to his right quickly. “One long blast for the centre line to retreat ten steps. If I don’t call the order, Narcius will. Then Manlius” he said, grimacing that he had not used the man’s
new cognomen again and nodding to the man, who seemed not to have noticed.

  “Questions?” he asked again before nodding and saying, “For Rome, gentlemen.”

  The Roman officers started to run to their positions, the cavalry officers jumping to their mounts and galloping away. On his right shoulder Rufus and Apuleius were talking, the two plebeians speaking rapidly and quietly. Marcus wondered for a moment what they were saying but realised quickly as both men spat on their hands and shook them rapidly that they were agreeing their terms for their wills should one or the other fall in the battle. Marcus suddenly thought of Livia and little Lucius, not so little now. He allowed himself a smile at the thought of them, his mind seeing the lines on their faces, the smiles at the corners of their mouths and the love in their eyes. A call from far ahead brought him back to the present as the trumpeter appeared at his shoulder and stood waiting for the order to move. Two lines of men were eagerly watching as their leader took a slow breath and signalled, the trumpet blaring into the sky and a great cheer coming from the Romans at they stretched their line, moved some of the reserves to the front and started to heave into the Gauls who faced them.

  Marcus stepped forwards, pulling his sword from its scabbard and grinning as the men in front of him moved to allow him passage to stand in the third line just behind Narcius. The men shuffled left and right to give enough space to move and Marcus re-gripped the shield in his left hand and let the weight of his sword drop in his right as he crouched and then brought the sword tip to face forwards.

  “On my count” Narcius called as the men around Marcus all shifted into a crouching position, the front rank already bashing forward with their shields in an attempt to gain a few yards. “Step” shouted Narcius, the order was repeated across the line every eighty men or so as the soldiers in the front rank thrust their shields forwards with their left shoulders, leaving small gaps through which their right-handed swords thrust expertly, cutting and slicing the bodies of every half-naked man in front of them. Marcus kept his head low as he shuffled forwards, the heat of the men around him already making him sweat as he cursed himself for not taking a small drink before he stepped into line. A clattering noise was followed by a deep grunt as the Gauls threw themselves at the shield wall again and the noise level rose once more, Romans calling orders to each other, friends calling support to their fellows and Gauls cursing in their strange language as they threw themselves, with an almost total disregard for their lives, at the spears and swords of the Romans.

  Marcus lifted his head and looked left and right before dropping again into his crouched position. What he saw was no different to that which he expected. The Gauls were now marching straight at the centre of the Roman line, the heavy hammer of Brennus fixed across his shoulder as he led the remaining few thousand Gauls directly at his position. With a shout he caught Narcius’ attention and the Centurion stepped back.

  “My friend” Marcus shouted above the din of the battle. “Their leader is coming straight here as I expected” he nodded towards the front, and Narcius smirked in response. “As soon as I can I will return to my position on the horse and see what needs to be done” he said. “I fear I cannot direct the course of this battle from down here” he said, almost apologetically as Narcius mouthed his understanding.

  “You are too old to stand here amongst the younger men” grinned Narcius as Marcus stared at him in mock horror.

  “And who was it that ran you around the walls of Ardea for two weeks and beat you back for supper every night?” he replied as Narcius’ face split into a deep grin and he shook his head.

  “Go, sir” Narcius said as he blinked dust from his eyes and turned to call the next order, the men around him tightening their grips on their weapons as he did so. A few minutes later and having dispatched two Gauls who were still squirming on the ground as the front lines stepped over them, Marcus felt the unmistakable press of fresh men as they hit the front ranks of Romans like a tidal wave of flesh. As the men around him leant into the press with their shields, keeping their sword arms free, Marcus edged backwards to the rear line and stood, his eyes quickly scanning the scene. His small retinue stood a few paces away and he was quickly lifted to his horse, the messengers already waiting for orders at his side as he rose above the battle.

  Ahead of him he watched the Gauls slam into the Roman line, the Gallic hammer of Brennus crushing a Roman shield as the legionary raised it to hold off his attack. Along the line the same scene played out, the Romans trying desperately to edge the centre forward and only just managing to stop the onslaught of thousands more Gauls as they attacked ferociously. On the flanks and in the central rear were the Gallic reserves, a few thousand heavily built men and several hundred horse on the wings. Marcus looked over his shoulder, his own reserves were thin, he had pressed them into the battle, knowing that with Brennus in the centre of the attack there would be no-one to make the decision to attack the flanks, as he would have done. He gulped at some water and considered his gamble, which had seemed, so far, to have paid off.

  As he looked back to the centre the rising of Brennus’ hammer coincided with Narcius’ call and the Roman line shuffled forward another step, the hammer making a thudding sound as it didn’t connect squarely with the shield it crashed into. The Gauls were six or seven deep in the centre, the weight of men causing more confusion behind the attacking front line than it was in the Roman defensive line. Gauls were edging closer to their leader and unmistakable movements on the left and right of the centre gave Marcus a moment to consider his options. The short, stabbing, swords of the Eagles were holding back the bravest of the Gauls as they knew that any wrong movement meant instant pain, disfigurement or death. Marcus kicked his horse to the right and called to a few of the legionaries, urging them to be strong and fight well. The centre line tried to move forwards again, but the call from Narcius was short and the Romans seemed to be stuck, the press of all the newly arrived Gallic bodies simply causing a deadlock. Thinking fast Marcus let his eyes rove around the scene. In front of him were the men of Manlius, pressing hard against three or four lines of Gauls but again unable to make much headway, though they were also not pushing too hard as their time for dedicated action was yet to come. A thought came to Marcus and he called the messenger across quickly, grabbing a wax tablet and writing furiously as he changed the order slightly. It would put the centre under greater pressure, but it had to be done. One way or another the Gauls had to be beaten.

  As he handed the orders to the messenger he jumped from his horse and strode back towards Narcius and his men. If his friend was to be in danger, then he would be in danger alongside him.

  ************

  Brennus let the hammer fall, pushing the weight down into the wood as it smashed against the boards of the Roman man who was screaming as the splinters broke into his skin. His teeth clenched as he raised the hammer again, letting his torso edge back slightly as the little man in his leather breastplate whipped his sword out at him, and missed. He crashed the sword against the man’s arm, feeling it shatter and saw the sword fall to the ground as he laughed at the noise the Roman soldier made as his wild eyes stared at his broken arm. Two warriors stepped forwards and stabbed the Roman in the leg as he fell backwards and started to kick with his legs as he tried to edge back into the closing Roman shield wall.

  Brennus grunted as he smashed the hammer through the knee of the Roman, his leg almost coming apart as he stared into the crying man’s eyes before another warrior thrust a long spear, a Roman one he had picked up from the ground, into the guts of the fallen man.

  The shield wall closed and edged forward as he dragged the hammer back to hit again, the wood of a Roman shield rasping along his knuckles and causing him to cry out in pain as he saw the imprints of his own blood on the coloured board of the Roman whose eyes stared malevolently at him from behind the wall of wood and iron. Bellosenos raced forwards and threw his shoulder into the shields, his weight pushing the Roman back as two sword
s flicked out at him, one catching his forearm and leaving a long red line which dripped as he shook it and grunted.

  “We need a way to get through this line” he shouted as Brennus glared at him as if he’d just said something that was blindingly obvious.

  “This” Brennus screamed, his voice deep and throaty as he grunted with the effort of smashing his hammer into the shields in front of him again. Men scurried out of the way as splinters shot out in all directions and Brennus darted forwards with the hammer raised again but was beaten back by a flurry of iron as the shield wall closed in front of him. Men pushed from all sides as they raced forwards in an attempt to gain glory, their failed attempts leaving another bloody pile in front of their leader. The wall stepped forwards another step and Brennus shared a look with Bellosenos which suggested that both men were at a loss for what to do next. Brennus huffed loudly, the grunting sound causing two of his bodyguards to shift out of his reach.

  “We need to regroup and attack again” Brennus shouted, his fellow chieftain nodding in reply. As Brennus turned his face back to the shield wall, which had stepped forward again he felt a sudden anger that he had let his heart rule his head. He had rushed into the battle, hurt by the loss of his brother and the whining of that dog Connixis. He tightened his jaw, yes Connixis had brought this bad luck on them. He would let Aengus deal with the traitorous dog who had turned the chiefs against him at the crucial moment. Stepping back, he felt a sudden movement away to both sides, the noise level rising above the usual clamour of battle and he felt an impulsive need to run, which he quickly overcame. Something was happening, the Romans were pushing harder on his right, he was closer to the right than to the centre. A cold dread fell into the pit of his stomach and he turned his head to the left. It was there too. This damned man Camillus was clever. He was closing the flanks around them. He bellowed orders for the men in the middle to retreat, his hammer waving to them as they turned to him in shock and surprise.