by James Mace
“They’re getting bold,” Vitruvius said as he walked up.
“They won’t be once we get done with them,” Statorius said.
Vitruvius smiled wickedly. “Yes, it has been a while since my sword tasted fresh meat,” he said, his right hand rubbing the pommel of his gladius.
“A few scattered villages? You’ll be lucky if you get to kill a cow, Vitruvius.” Flaccus said.
“It’s still fresh meat, isn’t it?” Vitruvius laughed.
Artorius listened to the conversation in silence as he helped his friends load their tent onto a waiting cart.
“So what will this mean for us?” he asked Praxus.
“Could mean a couple of different things, none of them very exciting though,” Praxus answered. “When we’re dealing with villages on a punitive expedition, the first thing we do is cordon off the entire area. Nobody gets in and nobody comes out. We then send an assault element through that clears the entire area of anything living. Once done, they set fire to the place, and we move on.”
“So we just kill everything in the village?” Magnus asked.
“Pretty much,” Valens answered. “Of course sitting on the cordon is boring as hell most of the time, though assaulting a village usually gets messy. Moreover, there is not a lot of glory and prestige to be had in killing a few farmers and some livestock, mind you. Occasionally you’ll get lucky and find something worth pilfering.”
Artorius thought about Valens’ words. Would this be how he got his revenge? By killing a handful of farmers and burning their crops? He still held out hope that the Cherusci would come and face them on the battlefield, and that they would be able to exact their revenge properly. It was not that he had any issue with the killing of Germanic farmers, far from it. All were guilty, and all would be punished. He just figured that a major battle would resolve the issue that much quicker.
Just outside where the headquarters tent was being dismantled, Master Centurion Flavius Quietus was reviewing the plans for their part of the operation with the Cohort Commanders. Normally this task would fall upon the Commanding General, but since Severus now had four legions plus auxiliaries to command, the task fell to his subordinates. As chief tribune, Strabo was technically the one left in charge of the legion. However, he was wise enough to allow those with the proper experience to plan the attack. Flavius took a staff and drew a rough overlay of their sector on the dirt. He drew up prominent terrain features, to include the placement of all the known settlements.
“Gentlemen,” he started, “this is our sector for this operation. It is not very large, and to be honest, using an entire legion for this is overkill. However, we are in enemy territory, and there is no way of knowing for sure what we will be up against.
“We will leave here with cohorts in a column. First Cohort will provide the vanguard; the Sixth will provide rear security for the baggage trains. Auxiliary infantry will provide security on our flanks and the cavalry will screen our front.
“Behind this ridge, the cavalry will hold fast and await our arrival. They will then take the long way around the settlements, utilizing the woods for cover, finally pushing out past the villages, and continuing to screen our front. The auxiliary infantry will push out on the flanks for at least a good mile and prevent anyone from entering the area. This gully on the northeast side leads away from the village. This is their most likely route of escape, should they become alerted to our presence. The First Cohort will secure the gully and make certain no one uses it to escape. The Second, Third, and Seventh Cohorts will conduct the actual sweep of the area. The Third will take the right, the Second the center, and the Seventh will take the left. The rest of the legion, minus the Sixth Cohort, will provide the close cordon of the area and ensure that nothing escapes. The Sixth will set up security around the baggage trains, one terrain feature behind the eastern section of the cordon. Once the sweep is complete, the assault elements will form back up in a column, the rest of the legion collapsing on them. Once the auxiliary infantry have joined with us, we will push forward to where the cavalry should have our campsite staked out. It is about half a day’s march from here to the ridgeline, so we’d best start moving.” He then took a few moments to answer any questions the Cohort Commanders had. Soon the legion was on the march.
Artorius watched the countryside slowly roll by. The area had a lot of open ground, though it was still infested with immense forests that seemed to permeate the entire country. He half expected they would come under attack at any moment, that there would be hordes of barbarians storming their flanks. Of course, Severus was better prepared than Varus had been. Auxiliary infantry had pushed out on the flanks and cavalry screened their front. If any force did come at them, the auxiliaries would, more than likely, be able to repel it. And even if they weren’t, they would at least provide ample warning to the legionaries. With his mind at ease in terms of the danger they faced, his thoughts wandered to their task ahead.
“Think we’ll see any real action today?” he asked Magnus, who was marching next to him in formation.
“From what the veterans have said, I kind of doubt it,” Magnus answered. “Sounds like these operations are almost boring in nature. Kill a few farmers, torch their crops, and then move on.”
“That’s what I was figuring,” Artorius replied. “Though, since neither of us has ever killed a human being before, it may be worth our while.”
Magnus gave him a searching look. “Anxious to exact your revenge, are you?” he asked.
“If only you knew,” Artorius answered. He was suddenly angry.
“Artorius, I’m your friend. And if I’m going to be able to help you in any way, you might as well tell me. What is it that burns inside of you? Everybody sees it. Praxus, Decimus, Carbo, heck, even Sergeant Vitruvius mentioned something to Statorius the other day. He said that in your little sparring sessions every week, which by the way makes me think you are either mad or have a high threshold for pain and a masochistic streak, you fly into a blinding rage each time you two come to blows. He said you mutter curses against the Germans, almost acting as if he is one of them.”
Artorius looked almost embarrassed.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Magnus continued, “Vitruvius thinks it’s productive. He just worries because you become so incensed that you lose focus. That’s why he thrashes you all the time. I’ve heard him say that you have more raw talent than any legionary he has seen in a long time. You just have trouble controlling your anger.”
“Alright,” Artorius said, “If you really want to know what fire burns inside of me.” He then told Magnus about how Metellus had been killed in Teutoburger Wald, the subsequent death of his mother, and how he promised himself that he would avenge their loss.
Magnus was fascinated, though by no means surprised. “I understand,” he said. “My ancestors in the far north were always involved in some kind of ‘blood feud’.”
“Make no mistake,” Artorius continued, “I think the army is the most honorable profession a Roman in my position can choose. When this campaign is over, I intend to make a career out of this. Right now, the hardest battle I am fighting is not so much conquering my hate, but rather using it to my advantage.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one,” Magnus said.
Artorius gave him a puzzled look.
“I don’t mean me,” Magnus said when he saw the look of confusion. “What I mean is; didn’t you ever think that maybe there are some soldiers in the legion who were actually there and survived Teutoburger Wald? Think about it. Tiberius welcomed the survivors back after the disaster. Chances are most of them are still around.”
“I wonder who they are,” Artorius pondered.
“That I don’t know,” Magnus answered.
They walked on in silence for the next few hours. Around midday they came to the base of a ridgeline. They watched as several cavalry scouts rode towards the marching column from the ridge. They closed with the First Cohor
t and after a short halt, started leading most of the cohorts around the ridge to their places on the cordon. The Third Cohort stood fast, along with the Second and the Seventh. Macro had briefed them all on their mission before they moved out that morning. Now Macro and the other centurions had ridden forward to work out the final details of the attack with the cohort commander. A couple of scouts were there, giving the finer details of the cohort’s sector. Artorius and the other legionaries could not hear what was being said. From the centurions’ gestures it didn’t look as if they were overly worried about how the operation was going to go. Soon the centurions rode back to their units. There they dismounted and had soldiers take their horses back to the baggage trains, where the Sixth Cohort was stationed in reserve.
“Cohort on line, skirmishing formation.” Centurion Pilus Prior Proculus called out. All six centuries formed up in a long line. The second on the extreme right, with the first, fourth, third, sixth, and fifth falling in on their left. Skirmishing formation meant that everyone spread out further than the usual interval, though they could form up tight if a serious threat suddenly materialized. Artorius looked to his right and saw Centurion Macro was the last soldier on the line. The Second Century would be the extreme right of the entire assault. Just behind Macro was Camillus, dressed in the traditional bear skin that adorned his helmet and shoulder guards. He carried the century’s standard, which he would use to relay visual signals and to act as a rally point in emergencies. As simple as this operation seemed, nothing was being left to chance. Standing next to Macro was Sergeant Vitruvius and his section. Next to them was Sergeant Statorius’ section. Artorius and Magnus found themselves right next to their decanus. Decimus was left of Artorius, followed by the rest of the section and, subsequently, the rest of the century.
“Post javelins and drop your gear,” Macro told his men. All did as they were told. “Every fourth man will carry one torch,” Macro added as Flaccus walked down the line handing out torches.
Decimus was the last soldier to draw a torch. As soon as this was done, Camillus gave the signal they were ready. Once all centuries had done the same, the signifier of the First Century signaled the other cohorts that they were ready. Once Strabo saw this, he sent the signal back, giving the order to advance. Soon three cohorts were advancing towards the ridgeline and the woods at the top.
Artorius watched as the wood line grew closer. Not a word was said by anyone. Most of the time he stayed focused on maintaining formation. This proved to be difficult on the rough terrain going uphill. His heart was pounding as they moved through the wood line. Towards the end, the order was given to halt. About three hundred meters beyond the woods was a broad expanse of small villages surrounded by farm fields. The crops had barely been sown. People milled about, working their fields or tending to livestock. There were silos containing what remained of the last season’s harvest.
“Doesn’t look much like a people bent on the destruction of Rome,” Magnus mused.
Artorius looked at him, eyes filling with hate. “How in Hades can you say that? These people are among those responsible for the Teutoburger disaster. They are responsible for my brother’s death. For all we know, one of those damn farmers could have been the one who killed him.” His breathing increased as adrenaline flowed through his veins. He did not care anymore that this was not a major battle they were facing. He only cared about vengeance. All were guilty. Germanicus had even said so. His eyes blackened as he grasped the handle of his gladius roughly, waiting for the order. He did not have to wait long.
“Gladius…draw!” Simultaneously, the entire cohort drew their swords.
Artorius seethed. People in the fields stopped and looked about for the source of the disturbance.
“Advance!” As one, the cohort moved down the hill at a slow jog.
The people in the fields looked horrified. There was no central organization, no way to sound an alarm and set up an organized defense. Many ran towards their homes, either in hopes of evacuating their families or to find weapons with which to fight the Romans. Others stood fast, either frozen in disbelief or determined to make their final stand where they were.
Artorius saw Germans on his left being cut down rapidly as the legionaries advanced. Farm tools were definitely not suited for combat. He watched as Carbo smashed his shield into one young barbarian’s face. The lad was knocked to the ground, and Carbo quickly finished him with a stab to the throat. Carbo was just two positions over from Artorius, but he knew better than to break formation to get in on the killing. Soon, barbarians emerged from some of their huts bearing spears or clubs. Even the women came out to fight alongside their men. The resistance was in no way organized, and each was quickly slain as they fought, in vain, to defend their homes.
Two men and one woman came out of their huts and rushed at Artorius and his section. The men each carried a spear, the woman bearing a pitchfork. The two men attacked Decimus and Artorius, the woman rushed Magnus. Decimus calmly settled into a fighting stance and engaged his attacker.
Artorius saw that his opponent’s eyes were wide with terror. He knew he was going to die, and he was afraid. This only inflamed Artorius. He roared and lunged at his attacker. With his shield he quickly knocked the man’s spear to the side and smashed him in the face with the boss. With a rapid stab to the thigh, the German was on the ground. Artorius looked at the barbarian, his hatred only intensifying, and he smashed his shield edge into his face before moving on. He then looked over to see Decimus pin his opponent against the wall of a hut and stab him underneath the ribcage. He also watched Magnus plunge his gladius into the woman’s belly. There was no one else for them to fight as they made their way through the village. The farmers had few items of any value, which negated any hopes of plunder.
Once it was confirmed that all the villagers had either fled or been otherwise eliminated, the century lit its torches and walked back through, setting fire to anything that would burn. Soon, they came back to the hut where they had been attacked. The man that Artorius had wounded still lay on the ground. He was breathing rapidly, and he was in obvious pain, blood oozing from the wound to his leg, and his face a bloody pulp. An evil thought then came to Artorius’ mind. He sheathed his gladius and snatched Decimus’ torch from him.
“What the hell?” the startled legionary shouted.
Artorius then walked over to where the German was lying on his back, clutching his injured leg. His face was a bloody mess from the blows of Artorius’ shield. Artorius smiled wickedly and then slammed the torch into the man’s face. The German screamed in horror and pain as the flames started to slowly burn his face and hair. Artorius started to grind the torch against his face, screaming at the incapacitated barbarian.
“Burn, you son of a bitch, burn! It’s time you became a sacrifice to your foul gods.”
The man’s hair and beard was soon completely consumed in flames. He was thrashing and screaming, clawing at his face, tearing hunks of burning flesh off. Artorius drew his gladius and with several hard slashes, cleaved the barbarian’s head from his shoulders. He looked up to see Decimus and Magnus staring at him.
“You know, usually we use the torches on the buildings,” Decimus said calmly as he retrieved his torch and set fire to the hut.
Artorius gave a growl and kicked the mutilated head towards the hut. He was immediately calm again, not giving a second thought to what he had just done. He heard the screams of those who tried to flee the destruction, only to be cut down by the soldiers on the cordon. It was over as quickly as it had begun.
As the huts burned, the cohorts continued to advance through the farms, destroying everything as they went. Livestock were slaughtered, silos burned, and the dead inhabitants left where they fell. Once they reached the end of the settlements, they formed back into a column. Horns sounded, and the rest of the legion moved in towards their position, cohorts taking their respective places in the column. The legion then moved out, leaving behind a valley of burned settlemen
ts and scores of barbarian dead. No casualties had been suffered by the assault elements, and only a few minor injuries were sustained by soldiers as they navigated the difficult terrain on the ridgelines.
It was nearly nightfall by the time they reached the site selected by the cavalry scouts for their camp. Soldiers immediately set up security, pitched tents, and threw up defenses. Artorius and Magnus were among those tasked with digging the standard ditch and palisade. They worked in silence for a while, both men absorbing what had happened that day.
Finally, Artorius broke the silence. “I’m not crazy, you know.” “I know,” Magnus answered. “You just had some pent up emotions you had to satisfy. And believe me, compared to what these barbarians have done to our people, what you did was mild.”
“I thought about Metellus, and could he have been one that those bastards burned alive. I’ve heard stories about what these people do to their enemies. The thought of doing what I did never even crossed my mind until I saw the torch that Decimus carried. I couldn’t control my anger at that point.” He was obviously disturbed by everything.
“You had better learn how, soon,” Magnus said. “It’s one thing to lose control when burning out some farmers. Once we engage their armies en masse, it will be a different matter.” He paused for a minute. “You know, I’m actually a bit troubled by the woman I killed today. Did you notice she was pregnant?”
“No, I didn’t,” Artorius answered.
“Well, she was. Probably just a few months along is all. Still, it felt kind of weird.”
“Look at it this way,” Artorius replied, “you may have prevented another Arminius from ever being born.”
“I guess so. Still, it kind of messes with you. I mean, here we are on a campaign to avenge twenty-thousand Roman murdered, and the only thing I’ve done is stab a pregnant woman in the belly.”
“Perhaps our little demonstration will draw the Cherusci out in force,” Artorius said, not really confident in his assessment.
