From Darkness

by C K Ruppelt

  A couple hours later, Oz, Adhe, Massi and Gulussa were far up the mountain side, walking ahead and well away from the rest of the group which included the remaining six men of Oz’s squad surrounding the legionaries. Sabinius had so readily agreed to this deployment that Oz wondered about what Capussia had told the man. Likely some inflated story about their ill-fated campaign three years ago.

  What was that?

  Oz held up his hand. He had heard what sounded like snapping twigs ahead, off to one side. Daylight was waning, but they had made it close to the top of the ridge. His nephew and friends stopped and kneeled. No movement?

  He touched Gulussa’s shoulder to get his attention, then pointed behind them. Gulussa nodded his understanding, then slunk away, back to stop the main group from following. Next, he touched Massi’s shoulder, and pointed to a wide tree trunk to wait behind. Now looking at Adhe, he pointed first sideways, then forward. Adhe nodded. The boy would walk around the noise in a big circle to approach from the other side. He watched both leave before creeping towards the noise himself. After thirty feet he could make out the back of a man urinating against a tree. Oz waited until the man pulled up his long pants, securing them around his waist with a loose leather string, and started walking after him. After just a few more steps a small camp came into view that the man shared with one other warrior who leaned against a tree trunk under a heavy woolen blanket to fight the bitter cold. The returned companion slid down another trunk close by. “Wish we could have a fire,” he said in their Celtic dialect. The other man replied with a grunt. Oz had seen enough and turned, backing up with slow metered steps, aware any noise would give him away.

  He made it back to Massi and his tree a few minutes before Adhe. He held up two fingers for his nephew. Adhe nodded, holding up two himself and using his other hand to cover the fingers as a question. Oz shook his head, and pointed to their right, away from the two Transcudani scouts. When they had scouted about a half mile without encountering any other enemies, they backtracked five hundred feet, and stopped.

  The three men crouched down, heads close to each other to whisper. “We don’t want to take any of their scouts out yet, that would show them we’re interested in this ridge. Adhe, go back to the others and lead them straight here. Massi, stay and wait. Tell them not to move from here. I’ll go up and find us a clear spot below the ridge.”

  Adhe nodded. “I’ll get them here, no worries.” Massi also nodded. “I’ll be here. Just come back soon, Oz, before you run out of light.”

  Adhe took off in the opposite direction from him, and Oz made the remaining two hundred feet to the ridge with caution. No more watchers down here? They are not worried enough about us.

  He looked around the wide, flat topped ridge from the cover of a bush. After a few minutes he could make out distant voices not far to his right. He crawled backwards, moving down between the trees for a bit, and tracked a couple hundred feet to his left before crawling back up on the ridge. This time, he could see a small fire in the distance where he had heard the voices. The flames had been hidden in a dip from anybody coming from the east but were visible from the side. Several figures huddled around the warmth. The nights were cold up here at the higher elevations, and Oz looked over in envy.

  He took his eyes away and scanned to his left. He had to wait until he could focus in the waning light. The stars were coming out, with the moon nowhere to be seen. He chanced it and moved across the ridge flat to the drop on the other side. He searched and found some brush cover to crawl into.

  He determined to note roughly what time the moonrise happened, knowing that it would be an hour later the next night, and so on. When he was reasonably sure there were no enemies stationed close by this spot, he crawled back to move across the ridge. Right below his descent was a stand of trees hidden from above. Perfect cover right up to the top.

  Satisfied, he went back to get Massi and the two squads.

  ***

  Early the next morning Oz nodded back at Sabinius. The man had followed his example and dropped down to crawl forward. The first rays of the morning sun started to illuminate the scenery in front of them and he knew he had gotten lucky finding this perfect spot. This part of the flat ridge was hidden from both sides by thick lavender bushes emitting a nearly overpowering smell. Their view out front of the thicket was clear and showed them a village in the valley right below. The settlement had a vast amount of people camping in the open around it, easily quadrupling its footprint. Very few inhabitants stirred at this early hour and he was excited to see a fenced off area close to the ridge they were on, holding a huge number of the enemy’s horses. If we end up coming through here we can keep these horses from them instead of facing more mounted warriors.

  Looking left to the south showed him the incline of the valley led up to the eastern tableau of the two incredibly high table mountains. A small river originated up there somewhere to run through the valley along the side of the village. Off to the north, he saw a long wooden wall across the width of the valley, with a small town located close to the gates. He could also make out a big opening in the mountains located to the west with a bigger river running out, flowing right between the two settlements to the wooden walls and beyond. That opening must lead to more valleys as Sabinius had mentioned earlier. He scanned the opposite mountainside across the valley below him, which looked easy to climb. But it’s also fully exposed, with no trees or bushes on the upper thirds.

  Sabinius seemed to have seen everything important. He nodded to Oz and crawled backwards. It will be interesting to hear his take on what we just saw.

  They collected the others and carefully made their way back to camp.

  ***

  The legate, his cohort prefects, the first decurions and the tribunes where all waiting for them in front of the commander’s tent. As Oz and Sabinius walked up they could see the other scout teams were already present.

  “Good, since we’re all here shall we begin?” the legate asked. “How about we let the late comers know about the ravine first. He looked to his right at the man who had led that mission.

  “Ah, of course sir. We got there before dark and found a palisade wall built across the path close to the top of the eastern plateau. They know better than to leave it unguarded and they made us leave in a hurry. Their archers were coming down hard on us and we left half of our team behind felled by arrows. I estimate there’s several hundred manning the wall, though we didn’t get a close enough look to be sure about that number.” The centurion sounded and looked defeated, not making eye contact with anybody.

  The legate waved the last comment off as if it wasn’t of much importance. “Thank you for trying.” He looked to his other side. “How about the northern pass?”

  Uxentio, the leader of the Ninth’s Celtic cavalry, stood straighter. “We rode through the pass itself and they had a few people look at us from the heights. The pass has a good-sized river running north through it, coming from the valley behind. There’s a wall across the whole valley opening and above the river, reaching the steeper mountain inclines on both sides, so we’d have to climb to get around. The wall itself is a fifteen-foot-tall wooden palisade with a walkway at least ten-foot-tall on the inside. They likely used gravel and dirt as fill for that, held in place by a shorter inside palisade like we’ve seen in their smaller towns on the way here. The wall has two massive gates, one on each side of the river. They’re similar in size to those in a decent city wall and the walkway spans across. We got close but left when they challenged us. Farther out we found a ford across the river and went around the northwestern mountains. We could see only a few more hills to the north, and after those the land is flat.” Uxentio looked down as if to collect his thoughts before he continued. “Once around the next mountain, there is another enclosed valley with a small town, all deserted. From there we found two possible paths into the next valleys. The first looks like a steep climb and the other had another full wall built across. Both had plenty o
f guards at the top.”

  “Thank you. Now, Sabinius, let’s hear what you found at the wooded mountainside,” the legate said.

  “First, I want to note that we made it up undetected, and that we left undetected. There are enemy watchmen guarding the ridge, but not enough to stop us if we go in force. I believe if we time it right, we can get a sizeable detachment across the ridge to catch them with their pants down. We should get in position late in the evening, then take out the scouts on this side of the ridge at first light before surprising them down in the valley. I had a clear view of a village bursting at the seams with refugees right below that part of the ridge. It has a small stream flowing by which spills into a much bigger river coming out from what looks like a low pass to other valleys in the west. That river runs down towards the wall and out through the pass as Uxentio stated. The wall area has a small town on the eastside of the river with a nice bridge across. I would suggest two detachments. One to move to the northern wall from the inside to open the gates for our cavalry. Once that’s done, the cavalry can lead that detachment west to the other valleys. The other force can take out the village below the ridge, then climb over the mountain to surprise whatever defending forces they throw against us in the other valleys.”

  Oz was impressed by Sabinius’ analysis of the land and his sense of tactics. The man obviously had a good head on his shoulders.

  Vatinius cleared his throat. “Thank you for your input, Quintus. I will take your plan under advisement. With the enormous amount of Transcudani in there,” he waved over to the peaks, “we won’t do anything until we see reinforcements from the Eighth.”

  693 AUC (61 BC), summer

  Stella Mountains, northern pass, lands of the Lancienses Transcudani, Hispania

  Lucius Cornelius Cinna rode behind Quintus Titurius Sabinius, the legion prefect for the Ninth’s cavalry. Cinna looked at the tall and likeable man with his brown curly hair and its red tinge visible in the moonlight, so similar to his own, but the hair color was where the similarity ended. Sabinius’ hair had started to recede, and though he was tall as well, he was rather stocky compared to Cinna’s lanky features. He glanced back into the darkness, just making out the first few dozen riders behind them. Their contingent included the combined Celtic cavalry, a few Roman messengers and scouts and the seven remaining turmae of Cretan archers.

  It was still early morning. Since the moon had risen well before they left the fort, he figured they had now about one hour left before sunrise. He looked up at the full moon’s light poking through heavy clouds, and his mind drifted to his recent change in fortunes.

  Seventeen years ago, he had made the fateful decision to follow his then-friend Marcus Perpenna Vento to Hispania to escape Sulla’s proscriptions and had been in exile ever since. Soon after they had thrown their lot in with the Marian renegade Sertorius, Marcus Perpenna Vento had assassinated the brilliant general in a fit of jealous rage. After all his many victories against Sulla’s generals, Sertorius had been brought down by a close ally. Cinna shook his head. Perpenna was such an idiot. A cup filled to the rim with self-importance, plus the stupidity to think he could do better than Sertorius himself if given the chance.

  When young Gnaeus Pompeius arrived with his army, Perpenna bungled the battle and promptly surrendered, asking for clemency. Pompeius held a mock trial and had him executed for the murder of Sertorius, who even as Sulla’s enemy had held the rank of Roman citizen and senator. Good riddance, Perpenna, you filthy sack of slime. You failed us all.

  When he had received the letter from his former brother-in-law Gaius Julius Caesar, Cinna had been ecstatic and had traveled to Corduba immediately. The missive had contained an offer to serve as a tribune, followed later by a return to Rome and an end to his long exile. Even though Cinna hadn’t seen Caesar in many years, he had hugged the man on sight in gratefulness. He still teared up at the fact that Caesar, once husband to his beloved sister Cornelia, was the only one of his many friends that had not forgotten him. Instead, out of the blue, the man handed him this chance for redemption.

  Cinna, now a commissioned tribune of the Eighth legion, had brought long-awaited reinforcements of four understrength legionary cohorts and ten turmae of Celtic cavalry to the Ninth after the Eighth had ended their siege against the Lancienses Oppidani. What a long and bloody battle that had been, when the capital city’s defenders had finally come out to fight instead of slowly starving to death. He knew the Ninth’s commander had waited here for several weeks, likely to Caesar’s chagrin. For Caesar, the lack of time must be his biggest worry for this campaign. Well, with the men I brought the Ninth is finally attacking.

  “What’s on your mind, Cinna?” Sabinius asked from right next to him, fully bringing him back from his musings.

  “Just thinking about what’s ahead. Did the Ninth have any major clashes with these Transcudani yet?”

  “The small detachment at the southern pass had a close encounter during fort building, but they survived and secured the southern approach. We built another small fort in front of their wall here in the northern pass, with our own wall parallel to theirs to cut them off from fresh supplies. Though there are so many little goat trails everywhere stuff still gets through.”

  Cinna realized they must have reached the northern pass when the lead riders stopped. The reflection of moonlight from the head of the column’s polished armor sparkled, surely bright enough to be visible to the Transcudani watchers on the adjoining ridge.

  Sabinius raised his hand, turned his horse around and shouted. “Keep the men in the woods. No fires or torches, you must stay invisible to the enemy up there,” he commanded the decurions, gesticulating to the ridge to their left. “But keep a couple of men in the pass with a view of our fort and the gate, so they can relay back. When the gate of our own wall opens, ride for all you’re worth.” The man turned and looked at Cinna. “I will lead this one turma here to the fort, why don’t you come with me? We’ll find a good spot on the wall to enjoy the view and hope for the enemy gate to open.”

  Cinna nodded, kicking his horse on after Sabinius and the three squads.

  693 AUC (61 BC), summer

  Stella Mountains, eastern ridge, valleys and high plateau, lands of the Lancienses Transcudani, Hispania

  Even well-laid plans can fall apart because of the smallest oversights, and Oz admitted that this time it could have easily been avoided. It was still close to an hour before sunrise as per the moon rising behind the heavy clouds. There was just enough illumination for the two groups of legionaries to gather early below the Transcudani watchmen on the ridge. How he wished they would have waited. Their continuous cluttering soon alerted the watchers, and one of these watchmen now blew a carnyx to sound the alarm.

  “Take them out, now!” Capussia shouted.

  Oz ran ahead to guide the Numidians to the area between the two defensive groups, his own squad sticking close to him. He took up Capussia’s shout, urging the archers to follow onto the ridge before splitting into two groups to attack the clusters of defenders, keeping partial advantage of surprise as they rushed the defenders from behind on the wide ridge itself rather than from below like the legionaries. The Transcudani were locked in a tight shield-wall formation against the Romans storming up, leaving them vulnerable to the Numidians charge. The fight itself was brief, with few casualties on the Roman side. The real damage though was letting them sound the alarm. Now we better hurry.

  Oz saw the legionaries of the Eighth’s cohorts form at the valley side of the ridge to get ready for their attack on the village. There was no time to waste, they needed to strike before the Transcudani could assemble en masse. His Numidians would stick with the Ninth’s four cohorts and go for the gate. The plan had been for his group to go first to slip unnoticed by the town on their way to the gate. Now, these twenty-three hundred strong forces of legionaries and Numidian archers had to rely on speed alone and the level heads of their cohort prefects. He looked to his left and watched
the Eighth’s sixteen hundred legionaries running hard for the valley. When the first few made it to the horse fence, several carnyx in the village picked up the earlier alarm from the ridge. To his right, the town and the wall’s gate area looked quiet. That will change very, very soon.

  “Move!” The Ninth’s legionaries ran down the hill as well, many of Oz’s own men stumbling in the gloomy illumination. The lead runners pushed to the right until the terrain became flatter and the men fell into an easy trot, the fastest they could sustain in their full armor without ending up winded. The distance to the town shrank as the soldiers jogged along. Nobody spoke, the loudest noises were the occasional clanking of gladius sheaths on chainmail and pilum heads hitting shields. The front runners now climbed slightly uphill to keep more distance to the town and the refugees camping outside, though before they were quite even with the first houses several of the Transcudani war horns sounded alarm in the town.

  Oz hurried his men on while several hundred men and women warriors swarmed out from houses and tents. The numbers soon swelled into the thousands, all shouting and screaming to each other, running desperately to cut the Roman force off from the wall and the gates. The legionaries kept jogging for the wall until a few hundred of the enemy managed to crowd in front of them. Oz heard the call to form “triple rank,” the standard battle line of three ranks deep. The legionaries all slowed and fell into the growing line, now turning to face the rushing enemy that had started attacking immediately. The quiet morning turned into a cacophony of epic proportions, the battle noise so loud the only thing Oz could hear above the din was the new bugle call of agmen formate, the change to square formation. By having the standard bearers signal which units were to move, they anchored the line at the northernmost part of the line, allowing the soldiers farthest behind to fold towards the mountain, then fold again towards the north. As the soldiers moved along the mountainside, they caught up with the men closest to the wall, closing the formation that now resembled a stretched rectangle some six hundred feet long. The Numidian horns had taken up the command as well, moving all auxiliaries with the officers, standard bearers and horn blowers to the inside of the square.