“The central line of soldiers are just farmers, sir” he said. “No heartsavers, minimal leather chest guards, no greaves and very shiny, new, spears” he added. “The wings are the real soldiers. Thick chest guards, arm and leg greaves and several decent quality bronze helmets.” He looked expectantly to Marcus.
“Anything else?”
He smiled again. “The ground to our left has a small, but deep, recess, about a hundred paces in front of them. They will have to split to go around that” he added.
Marcus nodded. “You see, I missed that” he said to the centurion’s grin. “Laminitus, remember to test your men before you decide on a course of action, you will always find something worthy of the question. But” he added with a glance to Aemilius “your decisions will be the fate of your men, so be prepared to take your own course if what you hear isn’t to your liking. If you can’t find a weakness, look for his strengths. Then act to make them into a weakness.” The group had now reached the front of the Roman line and came to a stop, Marcus motioning for the other officers and centurions to close in quickly.
“Gentlemen, the enemy have placed their good troops on the wings with the inexperienced men in the centre. No doubt they intend to use the centre to hold us whilst pushing the horns around our outside to encircle us.” He looked at the faces of his men as he heard several low blasts from the trumpets of the Etruscans; they were almost ready, the final few soldiers moving to battle formation. “Our plan will be to keep things simple. Their strength lies in their wings of experienced soldiers and their superior numbers. Their wings will remain behind the main centre of their attack until they have us in a holding position and can use their numbers to out-flank us. We cannot let this happen. We will set out the first legion in groups of three hundred men in squares with ten paces between each square. The second legion will sit behind and overlap the gaps in the first legion so that from the front we appear as one formation, yet we have space to manoeuvre our soldiers. The first six cohorts of the eagles in the forward line will deploy their javelins in quick succession when the enemy attack, and then retreat through the gaps behind them and reform in front of the second legion. That will halt their March somewhat” he said with a brief glance at the enemy. “The skirmishers will concentrate only on the wings, supported by cavalry. Try and distract them Gentlemen. If we can get the wings to deploy too early we can detach them from the main body of the army and take them out” he said with a cold stare at several officers.
“The eagles will then stay within the gap between legions and be available to deploy where needed. Staying close to the second line as they push forward. I want the men ready to charge into any gap the enemy leaves on the wings, exploit any opportunities you see, split the wings from the centre that is where we will win today. The reserve will stay in the centre of the third line and engage the central columns when we split their forces. When they run, and they will, you will turn and split to attack the wings. Questions?” he asked. After a few seconds of silence, he said “then may Fortuna be with you and your men.” The officers saluted and disappeared quickly back to their positions, from where junior officers and optios were appraised of the plan. The clamour of men moving into battle order soon began to ring across the ground as Marcus looked back to the Etruscans as they closed on his own army. He watched the centre closely as the long spears of the phalanx waved in the air as the twelve-deep file of men marched in short steps towards them, their voices shouting obscenities at the Romans. The wings were, however, silent, walking in good order and holding a good line. He knew that their weakness was in close order combat, which was his own eagle’s strength. But he couldn’t commit his eagles too soon; they’d be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Etruscans. He nodded to the trumpets and a deep booming sound split the air, followed instantly by a cheer from his own men as the first line moved forwards, each man gripping two javelins as well as his oval shield. On the wings the skirmishers raced off towards the Etruscans, the enemy sending their own velites out to do the same job. Aemilius came to his side.
“Gods there’s a lot of them” he said as he wiped away perspiration from his brow.
“Indeed” replied Marcus.
Aemilius fell into silence as the legionaries of the front ranks split to give themselves enough room with which to launch their javelins, the enemy closing ranks at the sudden change in the marching squares of Romans. Marcus licked his lips as he watched the enemy intently. He needed to know how they reacted to the Roman offensive move. His eyes flicked left and right, where skirmishers were racing to and fro like children playing some sort of crazy, high speed game. Shouts rose above the general noise of marching feet as the Roman legions urged their fellows to inflict death on the Etruscans and the screams of the centurions to launch were followed by the deep exhalation of the forward line as they hurled the six-foot-long spears into the massed ranks of enemy soldiers. The noise level grew as the men around him cheered, but Marcus was too intent on watching the wings to take much notice of the effect of the javelin strikes. Screams were mingled with centurion’s orders as a second wave of death rained down onto the centre of the Etruscan lines. Arrows arched into the sky from both sides, screams rising in intensity as they hit their targets. Many of the Roman spears clattered into the Etruscan phalanx without causing any harm as the forest of twelve-foot-long iron tipped spikes simply got in their way. On the wings the soldiers yelled for order and remained calm. Marcus looked to the skies and muttered a prayer to Fortuna to watch over the Roman legions, the Etruscan men on the wings were battle hardened veterans and would not be easy to defeat.
“Sir” Narcius pointed out a section of the enemy on the left which had split slightly, the gap visible as the whole front line slithered like a snake coiling its body around the obstruction. It was the recession highlighted by Crastinus moments earlier. Almost as if reading his thoughts, a group of a hundred men charged forwards in a deep wedge aiming directly at the leading file who were now too closely packed to move their long spears easily.
“Perfect timing” Marcus muttered as Narcius nodded his approval.
“Crastinus, sir” came the primus pilus’ reply.
“Give him cover to get back” said Marcus as his centurion snapped the order to the waiting messenger and then saluted before setting off towards the waiting men.
All the Romans along the front line cheered as the file of men slammed into the disorganised Etruscan left, Crastinus at the head of the wedge thrusting his shield under the leading enemy spears before lifting and slicing at the shins of the man in front of him. The action caused the defender to pull back, stumbling into the man behind who turned his ankle on the edge of the recession and slipped out of view, causing several of the long spears to clatter together and twist. Crastinus was in amongst the centre now, sword stabbing at any flesh that was visible. The rest of the second cohort were right behind him driving the points of their swords into the bodies of the spearmen mercilessly. Marcus watched the wings, were they going to commit to support the centre?
Turning to Laminitus he said quietly “watch the wings, not the centre. You will need to understand your enemy’s tactics. If he commits to support the centre, then we may be able to focus our main thrust on that area to force him into a single line combat. If not” he raised his eyebrows as if questioning the younger officer.
Laminitus looked into his eyes as he considered why he had suddenly become the subject of an education session from the dictator. As he could see no malice in his words or actions, he wondered, momentarily, if his father had asked Camillus to look after his only son. Nodding, he replied “then we stick to the plan, recall that group to minimise losses and continue to focus on their strengths, the wings.”
Marcus nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder with a nod. “You watch the right side, I’ll watch the left. I need to know if they make any sort of movement, even the smallest change could be significant.” Laminitus nodded and turned his head. Ahead of them Crastinus’ co
hort had inflicted severe damage to the front three ranks of soldiers, yet more of the spearmen had replaced them. As his weary legionaries responded to the call to retreat, with Marcus eying the response from the Etruscan leaders, another wave of Romans darted forward and locked shields with the front ranks of the enemy, the action enough to cause distraction and allow the second cohort to extricate themselves. The noise level rose again as the Roman line closed around the retreating men, Narcius slapping Crastinus across the shoulder with a broad grin before turning and heading back towards Marcus.
“He did well” said Aemilius in Marcus’ ear.
“Indeed” responded the Roman leader as his thoughts worked through what he had seen. Had the right wing been ready to commit to support the centre? The closest group had certainly been calling for the line of spears to charge into the Romans just as Crastinus had pulled back from the attack. He tapped his bottom lip with a finger as he considered his next move. The left had remained solid throughout and continued to weather the hail of missiles and thrusts from the Roman offence. The front ranks of men from both armies were now within spear thrust, with the inevitable increase in the volume and intensity of cursing starting to reach Marcus’ position. Men traded blows in carefully orchestrated manoeuvres as the early stages of the battle played out. As expected the centre line came forward more quickly than the wings, with the Roman line only just holding under the onslaught of the enormous number of Etruscans. “We must find a way to defeat those spears” said Marcus as he turned his face towards the officers at his side.
“There are too many” said Aemilius, his face glum as he watched the wings.
“Their strength is in their numbers, sir” replied Narcius as he glanced to Marcus. “If we can disrupt their formation and attack like Crastinus just did, we can defeat them” he added.
Marcus nodded. He looked along the two Roman lines, the front line of spears only just holding back the weight of the Etruscans. The second line was waiting to move forward if any part of the front line buckled. Etruscan cavalry loitered out of range, as did his own, on the wings. Close enough to support but too far away to be a target.
“If we move the men of the eagles between the two lines we can react more quickly to any gaps that appear” said the unsteady voice of Laminitus.
“And risk the wings taking the flanks” replied Aemilius, as his mouth spread into a thin line, his eyes moving across the battle lines. Laminitus looked crest fallen at the response and Marcus noticed his eyes dip towards the floor.
“Nevertheless, a good idea” he said as he turned to Aemilius. “If the centre dropped back quickly and the eagles stood their ground it might encourage them to break and charge our line, thinking we have been defeated under the weight of the phalanx. The eagles can then rush forward as the Etruscans give chase. Even if only half of that front rank moves forward, with those spears they would be useless in a melee with our shorter blades” he added. Laminitus looked up at his words.
“But the flanks?” he questioned.
“If we hit them with the skirmishers and move the cavalry to the extremes just before the movement” he raised his eyebrows as the officers turned to him. “And then execute the change of formation in one move, it could split their ranks and give us an advantage.”
“A gamble?”
“I prefer to think of it as a tactical review and taking control of our own destiny” said Marcus to Aemilius’ reply. “Thoughts?” he asked to the assembled men.
“When the eagles charge” Narcius said “tell the first line of spears to give us room before they come forward. If they come charging in behind us they’ll only stick their spears up our arses” he grinned as a few laughs went through the men.
“Agreed then?” asked Marcus to nodding of heads despite the grim faces.
“Tell the men of the eagles what is expected of them, centurion.” Narcius saluted and moved swiftly away, followed by several other men. As he turned to talk to Aemilius, Marcus noted the urgent look on Laminitus’ face. He cocked his head questioningly.
“Permission to join the first rank and support the attack, sir” he stammered, his chin thrust forwards. Marcus grinned as he looked to Aemilius, his slight head movement confirmation of Marcus’ thoughts.
“Agreed, and may Fortuna go with you” he replied as the young officer saluted quickly and turned to follow the first spear.
On the wings Ahala had received the message and was moving his men and cavalry into position. The sudden swirl of dust as the horse’s hooves drummed into the distance caused a moment of indecision in the enemy forces. Marcus watched as the reserve lines crept forward and slightly towards the flanks, the wings of experienced soldiers also edging outwards to avoid being opened to cavalry charges.
“He’s reacted, sir” came Aemilius’ instant appraisal of the obvious activity from the enemy.
“Indeed” replied Marcus. “But it is what he hasn’t done that is more interesting” he smiled. He watched intently as the Roman skirmishers moved slowly forwards and started to line up on both flanks. The skirmishers were mostly the youngest men, some only boys, in the legions. They carried throwing slings and a small shield with little in the way of armour, which might slow them down as they dashed in and out to inflict damage to the massed ranks ahead of them. Enemy skirmishers started to edge forwards through the ranks of the Etruscan phalanx to counter the move.
“Now” shouted Marcus as he saw the opportunity opening up ahead of him. “Get those skirmishers in quickly” he yelled as the trumpet blared its order. “Aemilius take control of the second line and support the flanks where you see fit.”
The second in command nodded and saluted before wishing all the men good fortune and pushing his horse forwards. Marcus watched him go and felt a little tension leave his shoulders. The skirmishing forces on both wings were now employed in a deadly game of dashing forwards and releasing various missiles at the enemy, men falling as their hands jumped to their skulls before the dull thwacking sound reached Marcus’ ears. The enemy had closed the front ranks as the skirmishers had moved forwards, sending more reserves to either side of the horns as cover. He smiled. What they had not done was to respond to the movement in the centre ground, the well armoured, short bladed, men of his eagles now coming to stand in four squares directly behind the front Roman rank, looking to all intents as a new defensive block. He heard the crisp voice of Narcius calling orders as he licked his dry lips and placed a hand on his sword hilt, squeezing the leather wrapped handle as he stared at the action taking place in front of him. Left and right was a blur of activity as the skirmishers darted in and out. The centre lines were filled with grunting, shouting, men thrusting spears at each other, front ranks gripping the long shafts underarm and second rank overarm as they angled their spears to search for gaps in the enemy lines. Critically the Etruscan wings were still behind the central line of men, not yet able to consider trying to out flank the Romans. With a quick prayer to Fortuna and Mater Matuta he turned and made the order to execute their plan.
The trumpets screamed into the air, the Romans groaning as they had been asked to do as they pulled back slightly, several men falling to well-placed thrusts as they tried to step backwards. Marcus held his breath as he watched. The eagles, in their deep ranks, split into smaller groups of ten or twelve, rushing into the rear of the forward Roman line as it started to shift backwards, the movement hidden from the enemy by the forest of spears which acted as a shield to block the enemies view. Heartbeats passed as Marcus stared at the scene, “come on” he whispered as his teeth clenched tightly. “Come on” he said again with a little more malice. As he almost considered calling off the attack he heard the first cheers from the Etruscan ranks as the retreating Romans gained daylight between the forces as they appeared to be in retreat. Some men stepped forwards with guttural screams as others gripped their shoulders to hold them back, whilst others lifted their spears and started to reach for their swords, and just as the first men of the e
agles reached the front line the swell of Etruscans who started to run forwards to chase what they thought were retreating Romans burst into both a wall of sound and a tidal wave of action. Marcus couldn’t help but sit up on his horse and scream a triumphal howl at the action as it turned in his favour. In a flurry of orders, he moved the reserves to face the wings, keeping only a few hundred of the Hastati in the centre, their heavy armour gleaming in the light.
Narcius had seen the movement in the enemy wall of spears and shields. One moment it was an impenetrable barricade of iron and thickly painted wood, the next it was the screaming faces of Etruscans who had done exactly what they had hoped, split their ranks as they believed victory was coming to them. With a glance to the left and right, seeing Crastinus staring at him with a wicked grin, he called the men into action. Hundreds of groups of legionaries raced forwards, shields up and swords pointing at the enemy. With short footsteps, darting eyes and an awareness of his surroundings born of years of battle experience, Narcius led his men directly at the daylight between several Etruscan spearmen. The long spears clattered against his shield, pushing at him as he leant against the wooden shafts with his shield and gave himself the room he needed to wield his blade. The noise grew into a barrage of iron grating on iron, wood slapping on wood before the inevitable screams of death started to split the air. An Etruscan was speared from through the calf by his own soldiers as he turned in shock at the Romans appearing from between the wooden shields. Hacking at a hand that had gripped his shield, Narcius fixed his eyes on the dense ranks of Etruscans, fear in their eyes at these Romans who had charged into their heart. Fear started to spread to panic as the men attempted to move their long spears towards this new enemy but found that the pressing ranks behind had effectively pinned them to where they stood. Men were trying to throw their, now useless, long spears to the ground in an effort to free their swords, but for the men closest to the Romans it was too late. Narcius thrust his sword into the armpit of a screaming Etruscan as he placed a foot on the end of his spear. Pushing his body aside he’d already fixed his next target with his eyes, the man seeing death coming at him and pushing backwards into the line of men behind him, screaming and flailing his arms.
The King of Rome Page 16
