“Wish we had a few spears” Mella said quietly. “They’d be useful against that phalanx as well as these idiots” he continued glumly as he stepped backwards in time with everyone else. Marcus glanced over his shoulder to see that they had no more than eighty paces to go to reach the gate, which was still crowded with soldiers. He could hear the calls from the walls of the fort, the soldiers cheering and waving for the relief force to get into the fort as quickly as they could, and he smiled at the thought that they would soon be behind those walls and get a little respite.
Suddenly though, he was on the floor. He’d tripped over a discarded shield as he stepped backwards and was now lying on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs and his sword dropped. Mella quickly stepped forwards and stood over Marcus’s legs as an Aequian saw his chance and lunged at his prone body. Mella met the lunge with a fierce uppercut which swiped the attacker’s sword high into the air and turned the man to his left allowing Mella to redirect his own sword into the man’s ribs. The sword glanced across the man’s thick leather chest guard, not drawing any blood, and sliced down into his thigh. His cry broke the momentary silence as Marcus scrambled to his feet and stepped forward to stand next to Mella. Another Aequian ran at Marcus whooping with delight as he clashed his sword against Marcus’s shield and barged into him. Marcus had been practicing his sword action and his muscle memory took over without him having to think. He held his elbow close to his body and stepped back, allowing the force of the Aequian to be absorbed by his shield just as he hit it, then he stabbed in a short forceful movement into the body of the man as he sprawled in front of him. Marcus felt the sword bite into the man’s chest with a thud, feeling the shock of the long sword rasping along his ribs and through his spine as the man’s eyes opened widely, his cry stifled by the pain as the sword pierced his lungs. The man grappled at Marcus, his death throes clearly not done and Marcus was unable to move as his sword was embedded in the man. He thrashed the man away with his shield but his sword was pulled from his hands as another attacker stepped forwards screaming obscenities. Before the man reached Marcus he was blocked by Mella who neatly stepped in front of him and, dipping as he manoeuvred his sword, chopped into the legs of the running Aequian who collapsed in a cloud of dust before Mella pushed his sword through the man’s neck leaving a swell of deep red blood pumping from his body as he withdrew his weapon.
“Get your sword” Mella called over his shoulder to Marcus, “we need to run”. Marcus put his foot on the chest of the dead soldier and with a sucking noise pulled it free, releasing a flow of frothing, bubbling blood which looked black in the half light. Mella grabbed his arm and pulled him backwards. As Marcus ran back to the Roman line he was aware of the phalanx pressing hard into the left flank of the retreating line because the men to his left were coming to a standstill as the long pikes rebounded against their shields and he heard Rufus calling them to hold their ground. The right flank had continued to retreat and was now outpacing the left so that the line of soldiers was moving like a door closing around the left flank. One man fell to a pike and gamely grabbed the long pole that had stuck in his shoulder as he fell to his knees, yelling curses at the Aequian who screamed back as he yanked at his pike to free it. Rufus darted into the space and chopped at the fingers of the pike man, catching the wood with a glancing blow which sent splinters into the air as the man pulled his hands back and the Roman was hauled back behind the line by his fellows. The unwieldy pikes continued to stab and hack at the shields of the Romans who were now only sixty yards from the gate. The left flank had come to a stop, all the energy of the men was being used to hold the phalanx at bay as the right flank continued to step back to the gate with very little resistance from the Aequians, who were now four hundred yards away in their thousands marching in deep rows across the ground to the fort, their long pikes bristling as their war horns blared their menacing notes. The first of the skirmishers were closing fast and Marcus watched as stones from the best of their velites crashed into the ground ten feet from him.
Marcus suddenly had a thought and he turned to Mella. “If the right hold their ground by the gate, we can step back and the two lines can come together to create a spear head, doubling the lines as we move back to protect the last soldiers and support the left” he said quickly “and the soldiers on the wall can supply covering support as we close up and move into the gate. That way we can get more of the men into the fort” he added quickly, glancing back at the gate, which was now almost clear of soldiers. He saw Cossus waving at the walls and pointing towards the Roman line as it edged backwards towards the fort as a group of heavily armed men came out of the gate and sprinted towards the left flank.
“Stay here” growled Mella as he stepped back and darted to the right to find Decimus. Within seconds the word was passed across from the right to do as Marcus had suggested. As the Aequian stones started to land on helmets and shields the Romans on the right split into two lines and closed formation, quickly covering any gaps that appeared. More men appeared from the fort, now only thirty yards away and pushed to the front, allowing the weary men to move backwards into the safety of the fort, which they did in a mad dash. The left wing under Rufus was under heavy pressure from the growing phalanx, with men falling to the long pikes every few seconds and Marcus found that his position in the middle of the remaining line was not harried by many attackers as the Aequians stayed back waiting for the heavy hoplites to arrive.
Mella appeared and grabbed his arm just as Marcus was about to step forward to see what was happening on the left. “Come on” he said pulling him from the line and dragging him into the space behind the double line of Romans. “Shield up” he shouted, placing his shield above his head and stepping backwards. Marcus followed his lead as a series of heavy stones thumped into the leather-bound shield above his head. With a cry Mella slumped to the ground, a dent in his helmet clearly showing where a large stone had caught him. Marcus gasped as he knelt and grabbed Mella’s foot, dragging him along behind him as he half ran back to the gate dragging the weight of the man’s body. Two soldiers came and grabbed Mella’s limp body from him as Marcus reached the gate and turned to look at the melee in front of him. The right flank was clear of enemy for a hundred yards, but the Aequians were approaching fast. The left was still under heavy attack and in danger of collapse. The covering support from the walls of the fort was limited because the soldiers didn’t want to hit their own men. The noise of fighting, shouting and cursing was incredible, and confusion was everywhere. Marcus’s mind whirled at the scene in front of him and his eyes were caught by a movement in the sky above the trees. As he watched the movement Manlius appeared from the right, a long red streak across his arm, but otherwise unharmed.
“Manlius” called Marcus as the man recognised him and ran across. “Get the standard” he said “the Eagle. And bring it here”. Manlius looked at Marcus as if he had spoken a language he didn’t understand, but then grinned and rushed off into the fort. Marcus ran to Decimus and pulling at his arm dragged him into the centre ground between the gates as Cossus ran across shouting at them to get inside because he was going to close the gates.
“What is it?” yelled Decimus, the blood lust in his eyes.
“There” said Marcus pointing to the Eagle in the sky. “It is our day, the gods are with us again” said Marcus, hoping his words were true as he turned to see Manlius yanking the standard from the standard bearer who was reluctant to let it go.
“If the front line of the right flank pivots now, before the Aequians close the gap we can close a trap on the pike-men and kill them all. At worst they will see the trap coming and flee. Then we can get everyone into the fort”.
Decimus assessed the idea in an instant, and smiling at Marcus, “gods boy, how do you keep such a clear head in this shit. We’ll do it” he said stepping forward and calling to the soldiers on the right flank. As Decimus moved Manlius arrived at Marcus’s side without the standard, which Marcus was just about
to question when he noticed the standard bearer, a short, chubby man with wild hair and blood spattered across his face held by the scruff of his neck by Manlius, standing next to him.
“Prick wouldn’t give it to me” said Manlius with a half-smile to the standard bearer.
“Here” said Marcus reaching across to the standard. Marcus was a head taller than the standard bearer and he turned to see the man was reluctant to hand it across. “There” said Marcus, pointing to the sky as the lone eagle soared across the treeline. “We must keep the gods on our side and raise the standard so the enemy can see who we are and that we are the favoured ones” he said, not taking his eyes from the man. Manlius and the standard bearer’s mouths dropped as they looked to the sky. At the sight of the eagle and under the intense look from Marcus, the man handed over the standard and turned to run back to the fort.
“Manlius, we are closing a trap and outflanking the pikes” he said urgently to the brute of a man stood next to him, “Find Rufus and tell him to be ready to turn and run at the first opportunity”. At this Manlius disappeared into the swell of soldiers in front of them. Marcus held the standard high above the heads of the men around him and, on cue, the soldiers on the right flank wheeled with frightening speed and hinged towards the phalanx on the left. Almost instantly the phalanx leader noticed the movement and called a warning to his men. Cossus arrived at Marcus’s shoulder “we are closing the gate, get inside Marcus” he called above the noise of the movement and the cheering of the soldiers on the walls.
“No, we must get everyone inside”
“There is no time” Cossus pointed at a great cloud of dust hurtling towards them. Horses. The Aequians had finally got their cavalry into formation and were charging across the landscape.
“We need thirty seconds” called Marcus “wait” he pleaded. The urgency in his eyes caused Cossus to stand, staring at Marcus before nodding. “OK” he said “But we cannot afford to let the gates fall. If you are outside in thirty seconds you will stay here” and he called to the men who were standing at the gate to hold a little longer as he walked back to the fort.
The trap started to close and the pike-men bunched up as their left flank came under attack. The right flank didn’t dare go any closer to the walls as spears rained down at them as soon as they got within throwing distance, the men at the back of the phalanx looking wildly up at the grinning faces of the Romans waiting for them to get within their sights. More stones whirled across the space as the velites continued to launch missiles into the Roman line. Just as Marcus was thinking the phalanx would hold, the back line of soldiers peeled away, dropping their long pikes and turning on their heels as the first of the Aequians fell to Decimus’s men. As soon as the back row faltered the rest of the phalanx turned and started to run one man at a time until they were all in disarray.
A foolhardy Roman whooped and ran after the Aequian pike-man in front of him but was stopped by the sudden stampede of his fellow soldiers in the opposite direction. As he turned on his heel, his memory suddenly coming back to him, he laughed at his own stupidity, but his laughter was cut short as the wooden shaft of a javelin burst through his back and out of his stomach. He had time to focus on the sharp point covered with his own blood that protruded from his belly before the lights went out of his eyes and he fell to the floor.
As the screech of the closing gate got louder, and the Romans dashed into the fort around him, Marcus turned, Eagle in hand, and watched the cavalry closing on the fort, thousands of Aequians marching behind them to a steady beat of thick leather-bound drums. He heard voices screaming and stones landing all around him, as he slowly turned. Manlius laughed at him, throwing his head back as he did so, and patted his shoulder. Together they walked into the closing gates of the fort holding the Eagle high above their heads, the sunlight glinting on its golden wings.
---
Lucius watched from his vantage point in the trees. He was still amazed that no sentries had seen the approach of the army and thanked whichever gods were looking over them this day. The light had not yet reached above the trees and he and his officers heard, rather than watched, the first scenes playing out in front of them. The bulk of the army was still a half an hour’s march away, but everything was going to plan. Lucius tapped his sword three times, a soldiers superstition that if you thought it was going well the evil eye would come and change it for you. The three tap counter to remove the evil eye was an old habit used by many of the troops. He reprimanded himself for being so stupid, but still he was glad he had done it. Magnus, seeing Lucius tapping his sword smiled saying “Yes, I know what you mean Lucius. Don’t worry, it’s going to plan so far.”
Lucius looked to his officer “Old habits, eh” he smiled. “There they go, gates are open, good job Cossus” he murmured as the blare of a Roman trumpet cut the still air around them. They had been unable to see Cossus run to the gate as the light had not yet risen above the horizon, but they knew it had started due to the shrill alarms of the Aequian trumpets.
“Send word for a double time march” he said to his Optio, seated on a horse to his right. “Time for you to get into position Magnus. Good luck my friend” he said clasping forearms with him.
“Today will be a glorious day for Rome” he said as he turned his horse and walked off along the track through the trees.
Lucius and his remaining officers watched the activity at the fort. They saw the grey shapes of men rush from the trees and start to pour into the gate. They saw the rear guard being bolstered by a new line of men as the Aequians rushed at them in small groups. The Aequians had truly been caught by surprise, thought Luicius, as, with the light growing, he saw them struggling to get their soldiers formed up. Some horses bolted and charged into their own lines of soldiers, and Lucius gaped at the inefficiency of the enemy soldiers. From his vantage, he couldn’t make out individual men but he saw the last line of soldiers fighting a phalanx to the right of the fort gates and was pleased when the Romans pivoted to halt them in their tracks, an extra line of soldiers coming to their aide.
“A clever move” said Fulvius” sat behind Lucius “That must be Scipio’s decision, he has a fearsome reputation” he added approvingly, as a few of the men around him agreed quietly.
“We seem to be in, then” said Lucius, again tapping his sword three times and cursing himself for doing it.
“Cavalry” said an officer from the back, pointing away into the distance “About four hundred I’d say”.
“Close the gate” said Fulvius. “Better to save the many and lose the few” he added coldly. In his mind Lucius agreed. He was pleased that nearly all the three thousand men were safe in the fort, a few hundred losses would be acceptable. Then to his horror he saw the bright gold of the eagle standard being raised above the heads of the remaining soldiers outside the gates.
“What’s that?” came the question from Fulvius, as he squinted at the bright light given off by the standard in the rising morning light, his old eyes not quite focusing on what it was.
Lucius knew exactly what it was and exactly who was holding it, and he leant forward on his horse, a sudden cold fear gripping his heart.
“It’s the new standard” said one of the officers. “What’s he doing?” he added as the left side of the line, as they looked at it, seemed to unfurl and pivot towards the pike-men. “They won’t have time, the horses will catch them” said the voice as Lucius watched.
“Haha. They’ve run. Brillant Scipio, brilliant” said Fulvius as the officers around them laughed quietly and some clasped forearms grinning broadly. Lucius watched as the figure with the eagle turned his back on the charging cloud of horses and walked nonchalantly into the fort as the gates closed to great cheers from the defending Romans on the walls. The whole thing had taken no more than six or seven minutes and Lucius looked to the skies and muttered thanks to Fortuna. As they had watched the scene play out, he knew Cossus and his soldiers would have seen it too. The Eagle would be firmly planted
in his mind, he thought, and fear was a valuable weapon.
He turned to his men, “they have done their part gentlemen. Now it is time for us to do ours. To your positions. You will go on Cossus’s signal from the walls as you know” and with this they all saluted and set off in their various directions.
Chapter 19
The second meeting of the inner circle had been a great success, thought Postumius as he stood on the steps of the temple of Castor and Pollux and watched the mob of people shouting at the fresh words painted on the walls of the shop building across the forum. The bright red paint was a good touch, he thought, as he sipped from an ornate clay beaker. The words Bring back the King, better one master than two were scrawled in Latin and Etruscan across the walls in several places and were causing outrage as the plebeians threw eggs and rotten food at the walls while others shouted in favour of a return to one ruler. Small scuffles had started all across the forum, just as Postumius and his plotters had wanted. The words were reference to what many plebeians felt was the real problem with the governance of Rome. When the Kings were deposed, the rich Patricians had either grabbed or bought all the land in and around Rome that the Kings and their followers had owned. As these sales were ratified by the Senate, a Patrician-only club, the plebeians found themselves having to vacate properties or pay exorbitant rents to their new masters. Hundreds of previously wealthy families had become clients to the Patricians, effectively in their pay and beholden to them, or had been forced into poverty or worse still, slavery. Law suits had come to nothing as the Senate were able to simply veto any judicial cases in favour of the Patrician families and for years there had been tension, riots and murder across Rome. The free assembly of Rome, the Comitia Curiata, had helped, as had the changes had led to the creation of Plebeian Tribunes, of which there were currently ten, who could voice the concerns of the people to the Senate. The reality, though, was that the Patricians did not give up their power easily and the constant, and bitter, political in-fighting was causing major problems in the City.
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