“It looks like a full scale attack but he has not yet committed everything. Classic approach, eight phalanx with cavalry in the wings, but the left wing is light” he said looking away to the left. “It seems he might take the bait, sir, if he thinks he can get through” he added, smiling as he looked to the men marching at him. Just then Manlius arrived behind them and saluted, holding the eagle standard aloft to catch the light as it streamed into the breach.
At the sight of the golden bird the Aequians gave a final roar and the front phalanxes charged at the breach as Comus ordered the Aequian war horns to signal a full frontal attack.
Chapter 31
The dawn was no more than a half an hour into the sky and the attacks on the fort had not yet materialised as he had hoped, thought Lucius, sat on his restless horse in the shelter of the woods. The men were getting jumpy and he had scouts out in every direction to make sure that Comus had not sprung a sneak attack on them as they hid waiting for the signal to advance. The small attack which had brought down the wall had been magnificently repulsed by the shock tactics Scipio had used, though Lucius had a feeling that Marcus had a hand in this. It had only been a few days earlier that he was discussing ideas for the use of the Equites as an attacking force with his new friend Quintus Caedicius and he shook his head at the audacity of the attack, despite its success.
As the Equites had pulled back into the fort, the cheers of the soldiers clearly audible in the still morning, Lucius saw what he was waiting for and a determined smile flashed across his face as he turned to his Optio “Get the men ready, it won’t be long now” he ordered, brushing a drop of water from his sword arm, as the eagle flashed in the breach and the front lines of the Aequians charged.
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A flurry of stones had sent the soldiers rushing back from the wall of bodies which was not high enough to shield them. Marcus was ordered back to the rear line of the breach, with Mella reprimanding him as he did so, and Scipio returned, hobbling, to his position by the gate to oversee the defences, his entourage of officers and messengers moving way with him. The Aequians marched straight at the walls, with a number of parties hiving off to attack each wall with ladders and slingers. Comus was taking no chances and was clearly looking for a quick win with overwhelming forces, just as the Romans had expected.
Scipio tapped his chin with his middle finger, watching the slow march of the thousands of men coming towards them. He waved to Decimus who had taken up a position at the far end of the fort and Decimus waved back with his left arm only, suggesting that the left wall was under attack. The idea of collapsing the wall had done its job, he considered, watching a phalanx wheel into position with ladders clealry visible in the third line, but real soldiering would be needed now. Good solid killing, he mused, flinching as a spear flew over his head. They had closed the ground quickly he suddenly thought as he watched the spear land harmlessly and a soldier run to collect it to throw back at the enemy, the soldier cheering as he ran up the turf bank towards the wall.
At the breach the first Aequians to arrive stopped momentarily as they saw that a wall of their fallen comrades had been erected in front of them. Without hesitation the officers berated the front line for stopping and the bristling column moved forward, easily deflecting thrown javelins and stones with their large rectangular shields. Scipio watched the four hundred Aequian cavalry move into a central position ready to charge the fort once the front ranks had cleared the ground their array of spears, swords and pikes glistening in the rays of the sun breaking through the trees.
It was just as Lucius had planned it. As soon as the cavalry were out of the way he would send Magnus’s troops at the wings, his right as he stood above the main gate, before pouring silently into the centre at a run with the main force, and attacking the rear of the Aequian army as it faced the fort. Lucius’s force would be ahead of him and slightly to the left he thought, squinting into the trees, but unable to see anything. The final step would be the attack from his left, circling from behind the fort to crash into the enemy on the far flank, a three pronged movement, which he hoped would work. The trap was closing and all that was required now was for the breach to hold long enough to have the Aequians queuing at the front of the fort, the further away they remained the harder it would be to pen them in.
Ambustus and his Equites charged into the fort, whooping their delight as they leapt from their steaming horses, lances and swords dripping red, some carrying small scraps of cloth that had stuck to them as they tore through their opponents. Ambustus pulled the limp body of Natalis from his horse, laying him on the floor as gently as he could, tears streaming down his blood-soaked face. A Capsarius, a medically trained legionary, ran forward with water and clean strips of cloth but Ambustus pushed the man away as he stood, leaving the dead body of his friend lying motionless on the ground. He turned, without speaking, and stalked towards the gap in the wall, drawing his short sword as he did so.
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The main Aequian attack was now within a hundred paces of the wall. Cossus licked his lips and looked to Scipio with a questioning nod. Scipio, calmly shook his head, watching Comus like a hawk, trying to understand what was going through the man’s mind. He had committed some thousand men to the walls, all pike and spearmen. The remaining forces were at three hundred yards and were moving slowly, knowing that they were not yet needed. Looking to his left at the small breach Scipio pondered if he should entice the Aequians more by destroying the tower, but he decided against this almost as quickly as he had thought it. The tower was needed for defence. He needed to get the bulk of the Aequian force to come closer. His mind raced as he tried to consider a multitude of approaches, but nothing short of allowing the Aequians to enter the fort came to mind. His military brain, honed through years of open, set-piece, battles had never had to work with this sort of space. The gap was defensible, but not for long, the overwhelming weight of the Aequians would soon snuff out the defenders at the breach. But to release Lucius and his men too soon would leave thousands of Aequians with the time to turn, set formation and attack the Roman forces in overwhelming numbers. The battle mechanics whirled through his mind once again as he looked to his left and right, matching moves in his mind as he did with his ‘toys’ in his command tent. There was nothing for it, the plan remained. He had to sacrifice as many men as it took to hold the breach until Comus had committed his men to one hundred paces from the fort.
“Cossus” he called, his cousin responding instantly and trotting across to him. “That small rock formation, three rocks and a shrub bush. See it?” he said pointing into the gap between the advanced Aequian forces and the second line of attack.
“Yes”
“On that mark” he turned to Cossus and placed a hand on his shoulder “you send the signal. Not before and not after. Understand cousin?”
“Yes, sir” saluted Cossus, his wild eyes looking deep into his cousins face as he turned, kneeling so he was not an easy target for the continued attack of the Aequian slingers and watched the spot he had been shown.
Scipio hobbled down the ladder and across to the breach. As he turned to face the two hundred men huddled into the space, with over a thousand standing behind in dense ranks, he raised his voice.
“Men of Rome” he said looking around them and turning to the standing army just beyond the throwing range of the Aequians. “We must hold this land, Roman land. Hear O Jupiter” he stamped his foot theatrically as he spoke, kicking up a small cloud of dust and swivelling his foot, using the gesture and words that the soldiers would know were used in the ceremony for declaring war.
“Your senate, your people call on your hand to smite the enemy. Keep us safe in our defence and we will pour libations to you at our winning.” He looked out at the faces of the men around him, all heads looking to him. “We must keep this wall” he pointed to the breach. “No man should lose his spear” he called, a reference to the old Roman maxim that to lose your spear was an act of cowardice. “Stand tall. Stand fast and do
your duty men of Rome” he called as he strode, as best he could with his bandaged leg, to the second line of soldiers in the breach. As he moved the cry of “For Rome” echoed across the fort and Marcus found himself caught up in the cheering as he thrust his sword into the air along with every other man inside the camp.
Chapter 32
As the Aequian phalanx reached the wall, the rectangular shields created their own impenetrable wall, against which the javelins and spears of the Romans made little impact. The thudding sound of stones and weapons crashing into the thick shields was mingled with the stamping of Aequian feet and the drum beat of the steady march as it edged closer to the Roman defenders.
Scipio crouched behind the soldier in front of him and watched as the long pikes and spears clashed against Roman wood. Curses, shouts and screams became indiscriminate and the noise of the battle grew around him. Rufus was calling the movements from the top of the remnants of the tower, as ordered, and Scipio knew he only needed a few more minutes in the line to motivate the men before he could return to his command position. This was real soldiering he thought as he grinned at the men around him, standing in line, swords, spears and shields facing the enemy. As the enemy began to squeeze into the gap, their spears began to catch the men of the Roman lines. To his right a Roman fell, his scream dying in his throat as a spear crashed through the back of his skull knocking his helmet off his head and sending a spray of bright red blood across the man behind him, who simply blinked away the mass of hair and brains that slapped into his face. ‘Professional’ thought Scipio with a small nod, watching the legionary step over his dead friend into the gap his fallen body had left and thrust his spear forwards into the Aequian shields. As another legionary pulled the dead body from under their feet the front line lurched backwards from a great push by the phalanx in front of them. Scipio knew that they could not hold this line forever, the mass of Aequians and the combined weight would push the defenders back into the fort soon enough. He looked up, trying to see Rufus to get some idea of what was happening and whether Lucius had started the main attack, but he had not heard the signal so he knew that was not the case. As he turned his head upwards, the tower, ten paces to his right, buckled and started to lean precariously forward. With a scream a Roman soldier slipped, grabbing at the wooden stake in front of him and fell over the parapet, his legs dancing as he twisted in the air, his voice screaming as he disappeared from Scipio’s view into the waiting Aequian army, who cheered as one, several spear rising and falling as the scream died. He heard Rufus calling the men to retreat from the tower, and saw flashes of light reflecting from helmets as the men rushed to exit the wooden death trap which moments before had been their greatest vantage. ‘Now Lucius or we will all die’ he found himself thinking as he watched in horror as the tower slipped again, Roman men falling into the space outside the wall.
The tower, still attached to the wall on its right side, buckled. As it slid forwards a great mass of Aequian soldiers ran for cover, but the Romans on the tower walls weren’t quick enough and many fell with the tower as it inexorably toppled forwards.
“Shit” thought Scipio as he looked to his right, stood from his crouch, and began to turn to shout orders to his officers. As he took a breath and the words were forming in his mind he felt a jolt from the side which took him off his feet and laid him out on the floor, crashing into the legionary beside him, the darkness coming to his eyes so quickly his mind would never remember what happened.
The Aequians cheered so loudly as the Roman commander fell that Comus, sat astride his beautiful horse, stretched his neck to see if they had gained the fort, his aides cheering as they too thought they had surely won the day. Comus looked wildly to his officers, a mad glint in his eye as he signalled to the trumpeter. With a blare of the trumpets he committed the rear phalanxes to attack.
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Marcus watched from his position thirty yards behind the tower as Scipio was smashed across the back of his head by a pike, the sharp iron point taking a lump out of his thick helmet and throwing him to the floor instantly. “Mella” he shouted “Scipo is down”.
“Stay here” yelled Mella, pushing Marcus back as he had taken a step forwards and grabbing two men to run to the Generals aide. As Mella ran forwards the tower slipped further and Marcus turned to the sound of splintering wood and screaming men. As the dirt began to kick up from the ground and the tower inched forwards Marcus felt himself turn to the men around him. His mind had already calculated what would be needed and where they would have to be and he screamed, his voice deep and strong, so strong that the soldiers around him fell into line without thinking.
“On me” his scream demanded “Three lines. Here” he sprinted forwards towards the falling tower. With an almighty crash the tower toppled. With it came a string of wooden stakes from the wall to the right, their bulk lashed together with thick rope bindings, dragged the tower to the right as it fell, sending it across the besieging Aequians, who screamed as tens of the attackers were crushed under its weight. Marcus didn’t have time to consider options. He knew that the loss of the tower would open up a gap three times as wide as the one they were currently defending. If the new gap wasn’t closed immediately the Aequians would surge in and the fort would be lost. The cloud of billowing dust was already filling with the misty shapes of spears and men as Marcus approached the gaping hole in the fort’s side.
As the first men clambered over the broken wood and shouted for others to follow them, they came to a sudden stop when, in front of them, they saw a solid Roman wall of shields, swords and spears. Momentarily they stood and gaped at the speed at which the breach had been reinforced, but with a scream of glory they soon charged into the wall of men stabbing and hacking their foes as they fell upon the new breach.
As the first attacks hit the Roman shields Marcus heard angry shouts from behind him. He whirled, thinking that the Aequians had somehow managed to get behind the shield wall, but was amazed to see Fabius Ambustus, the veins throbbing on his neck, red eyes bulging, pushing his way through the three lines of tightly packed men in an attempt to get to the front line. Within seconds he had arrived at the front, yelling curses at the attackers. Marcus stepped back from his position in the line and shuffled across to stand next to the new arrival.
“Fabius Ambustus” he shouted over the noise “It is I, Marcus Furius” he continued, not looking at Ambustus as attacks were coming too quickly to move his vision away from the hoard ahead of him. Ambustus didn’t seem to notice him for a second, but then he glanced across and his eyes flickered recognition.
“Lucius’s brother?” he seemed unable to comprehend what he said as, for a moment, he stared at Marcus, who felt awkward, the short man looking up at him, his face set in a picture of rage and pain.
“Yes, sir” he replied. “We must hold this line. What are your orders?” he added, knowing that Ambustus, as the senior officer must command the line and asking the question with some relief as his action to rush to close the breach had been pure instinct.
Instantly Ambustus spoke, loud enough for all the soldiers near to hear him “They will try and push us back into the fort, using their numbers to overwhelm us. They cannot take this ground as General Scipio said” his voice rising. “Men of Rome, for our fallen comrades, for our families and for Rome we must hold this line”. He shouted. Almost as he spoke two spearmen stepped forwards from the Aequian line and jabbed their spears at the small round shield Ambustus carried. The short man expertly parried both with the lightweight shield, the dull clunk echoing as he rapped one of the spears with his short sword.
“We must not give ground” said Ambustus, crouching lower as he spoke and moving the short sword in close to his body as he rocked on the balls of his feet. Marcus looked along the front line of some two hundred men, the long spears creating an iron barrier facing the enemy. His thoughts were interrupted as the Aequians, en-masse, took a step forward, punching their shields into the Roman spears with a great,
deep throated, shout as they did so. Many of the Romans were forced to take a small step backwards as the shield wall stepped forwards, but Ambustus, with his adapted short sword, neatly stepped into the shield of the Aequian ahead of him and with great speed stabbed the short blade through the small gap that had appeared as the man levered his large shield into position. With a snap of his wrist Ambustus stepped back and the man fell, his eyes questioning as he didn’t understand how he had been killed, the life flowing from the slice to his neck as he fell to his knees and toppled forwards, his face hitting the dirt and producing a small cloud of dust which seemed to cling to him as his life seeped out of his body.
Marcus looked at Ambustus as he stepped impassively back into the line and took his stance.
“Step forward” bellowed Ambustus, rocking on the balls of his feet and crouching behind the small round shield “On my line.”
Marcus stared at Ambustus. This was what he had been discussing with Mella. The short sword, its stabbing action getting into the opponent before they could react and manoeuvre their long spear or heavy long sword in close combat. His mind whirled as a number of thoughts ran through his head before he pulled himself back to reality as the shuffle of Romans caused the Aequians to grunt and attempt the same forward shunt as before. As before many of the Romans were forced back by the move, including the man to Marcus’s left, who stumbled into the tightly packed ranks of men behind him. As a spear jabbed through his shield and into his shoulder the man twisted, his shout spraying Marcus with spittle as his wild eyes clenched with pain. Marcus butted the spear with his shield and, holding his sword close to his body, thrust the long blade into the side of the man who was desperately yanking the spear to retrieve it from the falling Roman. The blade sliced into the armpit of the attacker, completely missing the thick leather breastplate he wore and crunching as it bit into his ribs. Marcus didn’t have time to see the rush of blood from the wound as the man jumped back behind his shield, his spear wrenching the Roman it was stuck in forwards and into the space between the two armies. As the Roman scrambled to get back into the line he slipped on a slick of blood. The Aequian shield wall surged again with a mighty roar, punching forwards as three long spears spitted the man stood in front of them. The only man who stood firm was Ambustus, who, once again, expertly side-swiped the shields and spears and punched his sword into two men as they attempted to thrust their long spears into his body.
Dawn of The Eagle Page 20
