by James Mace
“There’s nothing for it, we have to silence those siege engines,” Galeo stressed.
“We’re one cohort, sir,” a centurion said. “If we launch a frontal assault, they’ll simply deploy their infantry forward and overwhelm us. There’s likely an entire legion positioned behind them.”
“I’ll lead a raiding party, sir,” Gaius quickly spoke up. “There’s a large number of enemy shields lying about. Give me two men from each century, and we’ll silence those weapons.”
“Very good, optio,” Galeo replied. “Nicanor, see to it. I’m going to find Gemina’s master centurion and let him know the plan. Hopefully, his band of novices haven’t run off by then.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Nicanor asked, as he and Gaius stumbled their way back down the small hill.
“Not even a little bit,” the optio replied, as he was tripped up by an unseen hole. He regained his footing, and they quickly made their way to the base of the hill. “If we don’t attempt something, and the Vitellians manage to break our lines here, the entire army will collapse.”
“I’m with you, sir!” Legionary Decius said, as he joined the officers at the base of the hill.
Just a few feet away, siege stones continued to sail overhead, occasionally smashing into the ranks of the Seventh Gemina.
“Glad to have you,” Gaius acknowledged to the legionary.
Surprisingly, it took no effort to find sufficient volunteers for the mission. Centurion Galeo soon joined the waiting band.
“Their primus pilus has his men collecting shields from the enemy dead and wounded,” he said.
Just then, a number of legionaries from the Seventh converged on them. Each was hunkered low, attempting to avoid the unseen terrors that had smashed a number of their friends.
“Here you are, sir!” one of them said, as the soldiers dropped the enemy scutums in a pile. “Orange, with gold wings coming out of the boss and a silhouette of Victoria at the top. Very different from our shields; should buy you some time. We also brought you some pitch to ignite those engines from Hades; compliments of our archers.”
“Hold!” Master Centurion Vitruvius shouted, as he rushed over to them. “We think their watchword is ‘Germanicus’. It may have been changed, but we heard a number of them shouting it as they withdrew earlier.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gaius said. He then addressed the volunteers. “Right, we’ve got two small buckets of pitch, so let’s not waste it. Given the rate of bombardment, I suspect the enemy only has a handful of siege engines working. We’ll burn what we can and sever the torsion ropes of any we cannot.” He took a deep breath, calming his nerves, before telling his assault party, “Alright lads, get on my ass and let’s send those engines back to the hell from whence they came.”
Given the frenzy of activity, the time it took for the optio to blurt out his plan to his centurion pilus prior, rally volunteers, gather enemy shields and some pitch to burn the siege engines had taken only a few minutes. It was only now, as he led his small band of raiders across the field, that Gaius felt pangs of fear. Was his leading this attack an act of extreme bravery or a brief bout of suicidal insanity? Perhaps it was both. All he could do was focus on the short row of torches to his right front. He knew the Vitellian siege engine crews would need light to operate their machines. Judging from the distance between the torches, he reckoned there could not be more than eight to ten heavy weapons on the line.
As they drew closer, his assumption proved correct. There were five onagers spread out in a long line, interspersed by three medium siege ballistae. While the crews cranked on the cogs, several of them spotted Gaius and his soldiers. There was a frenzy of shouts, and several crewmen were pointing towards them.
“Germanicus, Germanicus, Germanicus!” the optio shouted quickly, holding the captured shield up towards his face.
“What the hell is this?” a centurion asked, walking over to them, his fisted hands on his hips. “Who in the bleeding fuck are you?”
“Beg your pardon, sir,” Gaius said, speaking rapidly. “But we were cut off and almost captured. Your bombardment saved our asses! But you’re aiming too high; most of your shots are landing a good fifty feet behind the enemy lines.”
“Is that so?” the centurion asked. He turned to one of his onager crews, who were looking to him for instructions. About twenty meters behind them, Gaius could make out the shields and gleaming helmets of the enemy legionaries.
“Hey, who’s that over there?” one of the soldiers shouted. “Optio Apronius, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s us!” Gaius replied, attempting to mask his voice. He decided to take an extra gamble. “We overheard the Flavians saying they have an entire army of reinforcements coming. Not sure how far away they are.”
“And how the hell would you know that?” the centurion in charge of the artillery said.
“Panicked shouts from some of their lads,” Gaius replied. “You know Seventh Gemina are all amateurs. Likely they are shitting themselves and only holding on in the hopes of being reinforced.”
“Alright,” the centurion said, waving the optio away with his vine stick. He turned to his engine crews. “Onagers, decrease elevation three clicks! Ballistae… here, what the fuck? ”
Gaius had pretended to stumble and fall, uprooting one of the torches in the process.
“He’s hurt, sir,” Legionary Decius said. “Got stabbed in the leg when we were withdrawing. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.”
“You lads ready?” Gaius said quietly, as his volunteers gathered around him.
“We’re with you, sir,” a legionary asserted. “Lead on and take us to Elysium!”
Gaius nodded slowly and pointed to Decius, then to the artillery centurion who had his back to them. Gaius stood and masked the torchlight with his body, as the young soldier quickly crept up behind the enemy officer. Decius wrapped his left arm around the big man’s helmet, grabbing him by the forehead and jerking backwards, exposing the neck. Before the centurion could say a word, the legionary slashed open his throat, dropping the twitching body to the ground in a heap. Flavian legionaries then rushed the first onager. One of them kicked a kneeling crewman hard in the chest, while another smashed his shield across his companion’s face. One of the soldiers with the pitch quickly poured some over the ropes. Gaius rushed in and ignited it with his torch.
Fortunately for them, most of the enemy legionaries had been standing idly for some time and were mostly oblivious to what was happening, even as flames licked up from the first onager.
One of Gaius’ raiders grabbed another torch. Before the crew at the first ballista and second onager knew what was happening, they were assailed by the attacking legionaries who smashed into them with their shields and cut down several with their gladii. In the few seconds it took for the three siege engines to begin burning in earnest, confused shouts erupted from the ranks of Vitellian legionaries.
“What in the name of Hera’s twat…”
“It’s a damned Flavian raid!”
“Kill those filthy bastards! I want their heads, all of them!”
Javelins flew in an awkward arc over the line of oxcarts which carried the engines’ munitions. Most landed harmlessly, though one caught a pitch-bearer directly in the chest. The soldier dropped his bucket and grabbed at the large pilum, which was embedded in his lungs. A trickle of blood ran out the corner of his mouth. He gritted his teeth and collapsed in agony.
As his soldiers set fire to a third onager, Gaius sprinted over to one of the carts, waving his torch in the faces of the draught animals. The beasts of burden groaned and panicked, turning about and dragging their cart right into the advancing line of Vitellian infantry. The optio did the same with two more wagons. The whole scene erupted into chaos. Enemy officers were shouting contradictory orders. Some were telling their soldiers to attack the raiders, with others screaming at them to put out the fires.
Only one onager and one ballista remained. H
alf of Gaius’ men were attacking the catapult, hacking apart the torsion ropes with their gladii. The ballista crew suddenly turned their cumbersome machine about on its pivot stand and fired right into their assailants, the shot struck one man in the face, ripping his head clean from his shoulders.
“Fuck!” shouted one of his companions. A geyser of blood gushed from the stump where his head had been, while the twitching corpse collapsed to the ground.
The heavy stone continued on. It was deflected just enough by the unfortunate legionary, that it struck Gaius on the outer part of his upper right arm. The extreme force knocked him to the ground, and he cried out. The pain was excruciating, and he was blinded by the shock of this brutal wound. Two pairs of hands roughly pulled him to his feet. He screamed again in agony, as one man grabbed him by his now stricken arm. Another retrieved the optio’s gladius.
At first he thought it was Vitellian soldiers. Then a voice said, “We’ve got you, sir!”
“Let go! Let go!” Gaius shouted, as he stumbled to his feet. “I can still walk.”
“Well, you’d better be able to run, sir!” Legionary Decius said, his voice firm yet calm. He sprinted away, having set fire to the last onager.
Gaius glanced back and saw that all eight of the Vitellian siege engines were now engulfed in flames. Enraged enemy legionaries started to chase after them but were quickly recalled by their officers. The optio grabbed his wrist and used it to pin his arm against his body. The limb had not been severed, yet the slightest twitch caused terrible pain. Gaius was nearly overwhelmed by nausea, brought on by the horrific pain.
The storm of enemy missiles had ceased for a few moments. The men of Seventh Gemina thought, perhaps, the Vitellian Army would soon be attacking. Then they caught sight of flames from the first burning onager.
“Sir, look!” an excited legionary shouted, pointing and rising to his feet.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Vitruvius muttered, with a relieved sigh. He then bellowed, “Seventh Gemina, on your feet!”
The entire legion gave a series of shouts and accolades as the remnants of the raiding party frantically raced back to their lines. Only five of the original twelve remained. In addition to Gaius, two other men were injured. One had taken a sword thrust to the shoulder beneath his armor. Another had been stabbed in the leg and had only managed to hobble back with the help of one of his companions.
“By Juno’s cunt, would you look at that?” General Primus shouted excitedly, as he sprinted up on his horse. He skidded to a halt in front of the group of soldiers from the Tenth Legion.
Gaius was grimacing in pain and clutching his badly injured arm. He could not salute, so he simply nodded to the commander-in-chief. “General, sir,” he said through gritted teeth. “The enemy siege engines have been silenced.”
“They won’t be bothering us anymore,” a legionary emphasized, as Centurion Galeo and others from the Fifth Cohort walked over to congratulate the survivors.
“Centurion,” Primus said, pointing his spatha at Galeo. He then waved it at the surviving raiders. “I want the names of all these men. If any of them survive this night, I will reward them, personally.”
“Yes, sir,” Galeo replied with a salute. “How goes the rest of the battle?”
“A bloody stalemate,” the commanding general remarked. “They had us outnumbered early on, but with Seventh Claudia on the field we’ve evened the odds a bit.”
“We saw a large force, mostly legionaries, advancing on them,” Galeo remarked.
“Which means they’ve had to commit a portion of their reserves,” Primus speculated. “I’m shifting the Fifteenth Legion’s vexilation here, along with three cohorts from our reserves. The Apollinaris legionaries will serve to reinforce you, should those bastards try to take the hill again. Valens, Caecina, or whoever the fuck they have commanding their army, may think their barrage weakened us. I suspect they’ll concentrate much of the next assault here.”
Without waiting for any further acknowledgments, the general turned his horse and rode at a fast canter down the line.
“They’re coming again, sir! They’re coming again!”
The near panicked shouts from the line alerted Vitruvius. In the pale moonlight, he could see the advancing wall of Vitellian legionaries. He took a deep breath, and gave a short nod of acceptance, then looked to Galeo.
“Centurion, keep your cohort on the hill, defend it at all costs and keep your eyes on our left,” he ordered. “If the Seventh Claudia gets into trouble, you send a runner to me immediately.”
“Understood,” Galeo replied.
“And whatever you do, do not let those bastards flank us!”
As the centurion pilus prior started up the slope, Gaius gritted his teeth and followed. He found his century on the right end of the line and staggered over to Centurion Nicanor.
“Still alive, I see,” his commander said, with a sigh of relief. He caught sight of the bloody scoring on Gaius’ arm. “Bloody hell, man, what happened to you?”
“Damn ballista got me.”
“I’ll say it did! Well, you won’t be fighting with that arm.”
“I can still give orders readily enough,” the optio said. His complexion was pale, and his face covered in sweat. He unslung his gladius, removing the weapon from the baldric, which he then used to strap his right arm across his body. Not bothering with either sword or shield, Gaius took up his optio’s staff, which he used to help him climb back up the hill.
Down below it appeared the battle was ongoing everywhere except on the hill. To their left, Legio VII, Claudia was engaged with an equal number of soldiers from the Vitellians’ various vexilation cohorts. To their right, the soldiers of Legio VII, Gemina seemed to have recovered from the storm from the enemy siege engines, and were now battling with the enemy’s Legio I, Italica. It was impossible to see but half of that particular engagement. They could only assume such clashes were being replicated all the way down the line.
“A bloody impasse,” Centurion Nicanor observed. “Except here. The terrain may be an obstacle, but this is still our weakest point in the line.”
“And it looks like our ‘friends’ are going to exploit it,” Tesserarius Julius said, pointing with his gladius. Hurriedly making their way in between Legio I and the vexilation legionaries were two cohorts of auxilia infantry.
“Javelins ready, lads,” Gaius said. Like Julius, he was keeping his voice calm but firm. Any sense of panic among their senior officers would become infectious among the men in the ranks. Gaius learned from the moment he was promoted to decanus—when he first became a leader of legionaries—that keeping calm during battle was crucial, no matter how extreme one’s personal sense of terror.
“Galeo!” Nicanor called out, as he walked down the line behind his century.
Down below, the enemy cohorts were forming into battle ranks, their shields held high to receive any missile weapons from the Flavian troops. It was strange that there was a complete lack of archers and light skirmishers on either side. The only missiles employed in this battle had been legionary javelins and the heavy stones from the still burning Vitellian siege engines. What archers the Flavians did have were scattered along the rear of the main battle line, and had been largely ineffective.
“I see them,” the cohort commander replied. He nodded to his cornicen who blew four short blasts on his horn, a prearranged signal for the soldiers from the Legio XV detachment.
There was a quick scramble as three centuries formed into a column, placing themselves just to the right of Nicanor’s century while keeping low behind the crest of the hill.
“Just hold them in place for a few moments, and we’ll take it from there,” their pilus prior told Nicanor.
Their remaining three centuries were sprinting along the side of the hill towards the far end of the Fifth Cohort’s line.
The enemy’s auxilia troops continued their methodical advance up the slope. They outnumbered the Fifth Cohort two-to-one. C
enturion Galeo ordered his centuries to spread their ranks to keep from being enveloped.
“A few pila salvos, then we’ll let the Apollinaris lads even the odds,” he said quietly. He took a deep breath and shouted, “Front rank…throw!”
The orders were soon echoed all along the line.
“Second rank…throw!”
“Third rank…throw!”
“Fourth rank…throw!”
On the orders from the centurions, a storm of javelins rained down from above, the height adding to their range and penetrative power. Auxilia troopers shrieked as their shields were splintered. Hands, forearms, and various limbs were punctured and smashed. Scores of men were either wounded or lay dying. Many more were forced to throw down their now-useless shields. Auxiliary infantry carried only gladii or stabbing spears, leaving them no opportunity to unleash a return volley against the Flavian legionaries.
“Gladius…draw!”
“Rah!”
Blades flashed from their scabbards as the men of the Fifth Cohort settled into their fighting stances. The Vitellian auxiliaries may have outnumbered them, but they held the high ground. On they came. And while not as well trained or equipped as legionaries, imperial auxiliaries were professional soldiers; highly disciplined and dangerous adversaries. They attacked with spear, sword, and the smashing of shields, hoping their numbers would allow them to overwhelm the single cohort of legionaries. The Flavian soldiers fought back with fierce determination, unwilling to cede any of the high ground to their Vitellian foes.
Gaius had taken up his place on the far left of his century, though now keeping a few paces back from the front rank being assailed by a wall of enraged Vitellian troopers. The pain in his arm was subdued to a throbbing ache. His focus was now on the enemy formations that were frantically trying to gain a foothold on the heights.
Flavian legionaries maintained a fairly decisive advantage, so long as they held the high ground. Auxiliaries attempted to get beneath their shields and armor with their long spears. One poor soldier caught a spear blade in the thigh and fell screaming down the hill. The legionaries primarily used their large shields to smash their foes in the face and chest, bringing their gladii down on any who stumbled into their shield wall.
