Valerius moved to the map and took several blocks of foot soldiers from the bag on the floor. “The enemy have been reinforced overnight here” he placed a block on the map “here, and here” he repeated the action. Shuffling feet caught his attention before he continued. “This line of trees has now been cut back to give them a wider frontage” he added as he moved a finger along the left edge of the field. Marcus looked at the changes and thrust out his bottom lip, rubbing his sharp bristles with his finger as images raced through his mind. “The enemy camp is here” at this he placed a square block on the rear right of the map “next to the road” he added. “From the scouts reports I learned that the men were singing and dancing late into the night as well as being entertained by womenfolk.” At this a few laughs broke out amongst the soldiers. Marcus let it go, knowing when to call for order in tense moments.
“Where are the cavalry?” Narcius asked, bringing nods from all assembled.
“Here and here” Valerius pointed out two locations at the rear of the enemy position and added wooden blocks to the picture in front of them all. “So not yet ready to engage us.”
“How many do you estimate?” Marcus asked.
Valerius swallowed slowly before answering. “Ten to twelve thousand” he said as men stood back instantly, some hissing through their teeth as they sucked air into their lungs and grimaced. Other looked up at Camillus, fear etched into their features. “no more than five hundred horse” has added. Men tapped their forearms or rubbed their phalera as they stared at Valerius.
“Thank you, Publius” Marcus said as he slowly rose from his chair and leant both hands on either side of the table, his eyes looking at the scene pictured in front of them all. “Tell me how organised they seemed to you. Were they well armoured, disciplined?” He asked as he noted Narcius and Crastinus smile and glance to each other.
Valerius took the hint and straightened his back. He knew that the six thousand or so Romans would fear facing an enemy of such a size, and he knew that he had to instil confidence in the officers in the room if they were to ensure the men were in the right frame of mind for the coming battle. “As Mars is my witness” he said, seeing men’s eyes flick to the deity “I saw only boys with farming tools. The army was dishevelled and wanting, boys fighting amongst themselves as village idiots do.” This brought laughter from the group. “The camp was not secured, no guards were set beyond fifty paces from their first camp fires” he said as centurions shook their heads at the revelation. “Women and children strode through the camp this morning as if they were on a summer outing” he added with a long sigh. “Sir” he addressed Marcus directly “it is just as you have said. Farmers and boys hoping for glory and without military training.” He shrugged before continuing. “Yes, I saw a few proper soldiers, some mercenaries I think as well. But these men will soon see that we are like a rock in the ground, immovable, un-bending. They will see our iron blades slice the young hearts that these Latins and Hernici, Volsci and Velitraians have brought to the killing fields of Mars, and they will run, gentlemen. They will run because we are the greatest army that they have ever seen. Every man out there is worth ten of these starved dogs. Mars, Fortuna, Jupiter and the sacred gods of old are with us, gentlemen” he finished, nodding to Marcus.
“Excellent Publius. You’ve heard it first hand, soldiers” Marcus said. “So, let’s discuss the order of battle and our options before the light rises too far above the trees. Options please gentlemen. Let’s show these farmers what true soldiers can do.”
*********
“They’re ex-soldiers”
“I don’t give a shit” snarled Regullus. “They haven’t paid their rent and they know what that means. If you’re too soft Cassius, I’ll get someone with balls to do the job instead of you.”
Cassius turned menacingly towards his boss and ground his teeth. “I’m just saying, that’s all” he added as he tapped two men and pointed at the door. The two louts pulled thick iron tipped cudgels from under their tunics and strode down the street into the gloom of the dawn. The day has started with a cool mist and the smell of filth from the Boarium that drifted across the road was enough to sting the eyes. “Third house” Cassius called as he and three others followed, watching the road around them. “And only enough to make the point, don’t want them not able to work and not bring in any money” he added.
Regullus looked back over his shoulder as he heard a dog bark, then bark again more insistently. He whistled to Cassius, who turned with a questioning frown towards his boss, seeing several shapes appear behind the figure of Regullus. “Lads” he called as the men around him quickly came to realise that something was afoot.
Regullus pulled a dagger from his belt and gripped his own cudgel more tightly as he turned to face the group of men coming towards him. The shapes turned into men in the brown tunics of the lower class, their faces all covered in neckerchiefs and some wearing thick leather head guards. Trouble thought Regullus, quickly sizing up the group and realising it would be a hard fight, his six against what he thought were eight men, more hanging back in the shadows.
“What’s this lads?” he called to the group as they advanced. “Just collecting rents, that’s all. Don’t want any trouble.” They advanced in silence and he frowned as he heard another noise from along the street. Turning he saw several doors open and figures appeared, all dressed in the same clothing with faces covered as the men who advanced from his front.
“Boss?” Cassius asked, distress evident in his voice.
“Close up” Regullus growled.
The first blow was struck just after a window opened above the rent collectors and a steaming bowl of urine was thrown down on them, the resulting crack evidence of the bone that was broken and the scream of Cassius drowned by the yell of the charging home owners. Fists, daggers, cudgels all flashed and darted in and out. Regullus stood on Cassius as he fell to the floor, his arm misshapen and bent at a ridiculous angle. He thrust his elbow into an attacker’s face feeling the gratifying squelch of the man’s nose as it smashed upon impact, but it wasn’t enough to stop the blows raining down on his own arm. He ignored the pain, ignored the blood that splashed into his eyes and cries and sobs as his men went to the floor.
In only a few heartbeats the violence came to a sudden end as he was knocked to his knees by a clash to his temple, white lights blurring his vision. Around him his men, senseless, lay in a blood covered heap. Hands gripped his arms and pulled him forwards, his vision still unable to see the faces that stared at him with hatred. He heard the ragged breathing of men as they stood back from their toils and started to drag the bodies of his rent collectors away along the street, patches of blood left like the trails of some enormous snail as it wound its way towards the river.
“You will tell Cincinnatus that Capitolinus will collect the rents along this street now and pay him each calends” the voice said into his ear. “Do you hear me? He will be paid the base rents and no surcharges from bastards like you.” A slap to the head caused ringing in his ears but he grunted an affirmative before he was pushed to the floor. “Break his fingers” said the voice as he turned his head towards a shape which loomed above him “and let that be a lesson to the patrician dogs” called the man as Regullus howled as his first finger was snapped despite his attempt to ball his fists. He heard female voices laughing as he was dragged off before he felt a final kick to his guts and passed out.
**********
Opening his eyes Marcus looked out at the vast ranks of men arrayed along the field in front of him. They’d chosen their position well, sun directly behind them to blind the Romans, and with a shallow rise towards their front line. Classic defence, he thought. The sheer volume of men was impressive as they bellowed their hatred of Rome across at his soldiers. The noise from the enormous horde was as loud as anything he’d ever heard, and he knew it was having an effect on his men as they nervously looked across to their centurions and officers. He’d moved his men into five thi
ck squares, each aligned to face the enemy, and his cavalry on the flanks with a small knot of horses at the rear of the army in support. The natural topography supported his position, with rocky ground and trees to both edges of his line. The Hastati were held in reserve, over five hundred men lined in two rows along the flanks, as much to bolster and support as to remind any Roman who may consider looking over his shoulder that there was no escape in that direction. The auspices had been completed in front of the men, Marcus doing the readings himself and proclaiming great results for the Roman forces, which was received by a half-hearted cheer.
The plan had been set, the legion moved out in ranks and the officers had taken their positions. The sun had crawled into the sky and Marcus had said his devotions to Fortuna and Mata-Matuta as well as completing his rituals to Mars, god of war and bringer of retribution. He’d set out a bold plan, one which hadn’t been received too well, initially, by the soldiers. Calling them forwards he’d stood at their front and called on the gods to look over them, asking them to bring victory to Rome. “These boys are not soldiers” he’d called to his men. “They fight like children, rushing to their deaths without thought” he’d added, before continuing. “Let us lay our javelins at our feet and arm our right hands with swords only. Let us plant our feet firmly on this land that will soon be yours and receive the onset of our enemy.” The men had looked nervous at this, but he pushed on with his speech. Think of your gods, Romans. Think of these good omens given today and consider the guiding hands of the gods as these lambs come to the slaughter. Rome will prevail” he shouted. “Rome will prevail” he called again, and the cry was taken up along the lines.
Now, with the enemy lines facing him he tightened his jaw and motioned to the centurions to keep the men silent. His last order had been for silence, the men to stand behind their shields motionless and to await the enemy. He’d told the centurions that no man was to turn away from the enemy, that they would stand and hold them as they charged into their wooden barriers, slicing at them with their swords as they attempted to drive the Romans backwards. He’d seen fear in their eyes, yet had been proud when they had saluted and returned to their cohorts to carry out his orders.
The enemy continued to shout and curse, thrashing their blades against their shields. He looked along the line, watching for the first sign that they would do as he expected. A high-pitched scream caught his ear, followed by more, then a trumpet blast and the ground began to shake. He clenched his jaw and looked out as thousands of enemy soldiers raced forwards, unable to hold their blood lust as they charged across the open field towards the Roman wall.
“Now” said Marcus calmly. Three quick notes and the Roman blocks changed, speedily and effortlessly, to three long lines in almost complete silence. Some of the attackers slowed at the sudden movement, other raced faster towards the wall of shields. Marcus nodded to his cavalry and they moved forwards from the wings. He turned his head to the sky and looked around for signs from the gods. “There” he cried, elation almost bursting into tears as a small flock of birds appeared, darting in and out of the treeline. A good omen. Eyes flicked to the birds and he met white toothed smiles from those nearest to him as the sighting and good omen was passed from man to man along the lines of soldiers. Almost immediately several of the attacking troops launched their javelins, followed in an instant by hundreds and then thousands more. The whoosh of breath and guttural grunts of effort sounded like a deep drum as the pounding of feet lessened slightly for the missile release. Miraculously every javelin fell short, not one man in the Roman line had to raise a shield in his defence as the missiles all landed four or five feet short of their mark.
Marcus turned and looked across at Narcius, stood in the gap between the first and second rows of soldiers, and inclined his head. Narcius, shook his head slowly in reply as a small smile crept across his face. They’d spoken briefly after the meeting that morning regarding the tactics, his first spear unsure of the risk as the men were feeling so unsure against this enormous enemy and their perceptions of the bad luck that had haunted them since they left Rome. Marcus had assured him that Fortuna was with them and that he should trust his judgement. He heard Narcius call out some indiscriminate words; words which made every man appear to visibly stand taller in the line. Yet to their credit, every man remained silent just as ordered. Marcus made a mental note to ask Narcius what he had said after the battle. He felt his nerves tingle as the attackers screamed more loudly and then charged on towards the Romans.
“Prepare” called the centurions, horns blared across the ground. Marcus was already looking beyond the initial attack, seeking the cavalry, seeking any plans which he may not have considered. There was nothing. He tapped his arm without thinking as his eyes roved the ground.
“See anything?” he asked the two junior officers he had positioned to his side to watch and inform him of anything unexpected. Both confirmed that there was only one attack, a full-frontal assault with no reserve except the few horses, which were probably the noblemen who set up the attack in the first place. They had, as he had hoped and prayed, believed that pure numbers would be the way to beat the Romans on this day. He looked deep into the ranks of men who stood in front of him and intoned a prayer to Fortuna, asking that she stand side by side with Mars and with the soldiers of Rome, dedicating a temple to her name if the victory was swift.
The crash of charging men on wooden shields reverberated across the long valley and pulled him from his thoughts as the first attackers thudded into the immovable Roman Legion.
**********
The banging became more insistent as Capitolinus called for his guards, men coming from all rooms and corners of the house to his side. “Is it him?” he asked of his door slave, who nodded gravely and said that it was a group of his men. Capitolinus waved to the small boy at the back door who chased away into the garden and climbed a concealed ladder behind the statue of Jupiter.
“Get ready to open the door and do as instructed” he said, the door shaking with s thunderous boom again, the hinges bouncing. “Ready?” he asked, to nods from his men. The door was yanked open and two figures rushed forward, pushing spears out in front while they moved at speed, causing the gang outside the door to step back and start yelling and screaming as cudgels and blades smashed into the spear shafts.
“Stop” cried Capitolinus as he moved to the doorway, his own men rushing past and fanning out around him, swords and daggers raised. “Stop” he yelled when two men grabbed at a spear, darting backwards when the iron tip slashed at them. “What is the meaning of this?” he screamed, a guard felling an attacker with a bone-crunching uppercut to the chin. “Who are you men?” he yelled again, waving his arms and motioning his men to move backwards.
A man with a deep cut to his forehead, and only one ear, stepped forwards, his brown eyes watching warily as he held both hands out in front, palms towards the doorway. “You know who we are” he snarled. “Cincinnatus wants a word with you” he snapped. “You need to come with us now, before we take you by the scruff of the neck like the whelp you are.”
“Is that so?” asked Capitolinus as he looked quizzically at the one-eared man. To his credit the brute didn’t back down, he just stared maliciously at the house owner and grinned, his thick lips hiding several broken teeth. “You can tell your master that he is welcome to visit my house at any time of day if he acts civilly and if he sends a calling card prior to his visit. I don’t entertain thugs” he added more vociferously. One-ear shifted his head slightly as if he didn’t understand, his face looking at his fellow attackers for support. Capitolinus smiled briefly before he stepped towards the man, who frowned slightly. “I’ll make it clear” he said. “Tell your boss that the people of Rome have had enough of being in debt to men who skim every last coin from them, steal food from their children’s mouths and tax them for every last As they earn. We” he waved a hand at the men around him “will not stand for it any longer.” He looked down his nose at the attacker
, “and tell him he will be receiving a bill for fixing my door” he added with a glance towards his doorway. The thug clenched his jaw as if to speak, but was cut off by a commotion behind him as several burly men appeared, cudgels, pitchforks and kitchen knives in hand. Behind them Capitolinus’ slave boy peered from around the corner his chest heaving from his exertion. “I think you’d better go back to your boss” said Capitolinus as two spear tips were forced into one-ears face, making him duck backwards awkwardly.
“We’ll be back” spat the man, thumbing for his men to leave as the defenders jeered at their retreat. Several limped or were half-carried whilst the men outside Capitolinus’ door pushed and shoved them away from the street.
Capitolinus watched them go with an anxious frown. Behind him men were cheering their victory, some showing off the cuts and bruises of their efforts. Capitolinus knew that this was only the start of his problems now. He’d made his mark against one of Rome’s biggest gang leaders and he knew there was more trouble to come.
**********
“Trouble?” asked Marcus with a glance to his Optio, who shook his head at the sudden increase in sound from the centre of the Roman defences.
“Looks like the first and second are ready to advance” came the calm response.
Marcus watched, motioning for his trumpeters to be ready to call his orders. Ahead of him, above the dust and noise of battle he saw no enemy support behind the mad rush that had charged into his forces. No cavalry reserves were visible beyond the few leaders that stood watching, men waving arms and pointing towards the butchery that was happening in front of them. Touching the wooden eagle that hung around his neck he nodded to the trumpets and a call for his own horse to charge the flanks, as planned, was relayed. Men screamed and horses whinnied as they moved to positions, the noise from the front lines doubling as the feared horses were loosed. Narcius heard the call and knew that the next order would be to advance the foot soldiers. His eyes roved the ground, taking a step back he took a deep breath and shouted.
The King of Rome Page 31
