Soldier of Rome: The Legionary (The Artorian Chronicles)

by James Mace

  “Valgus is down!”

  Statorius and Vitruvius struggled to lift the wounded optio out of the murky water. He had been relaying orders and too slow in dropping down behind his shield. A spear had plunged into his hip, and he was bleeding badly. He groaned in pain as he fought to remain conscious. As they lifted him up, one overzealous barbarian ran forward in an attempt to finish him off. As he did, Vitruvius snarled and wrapped an arm in a choke hold around the German, gave a horrific jerk, and snapped his neck.

  “Get him to the fort.” Macro ordered.

  “Sir.” Statorius acknowledged.

  Vitruvius and Statorius took their sections to act as escorts as they carried the wounded away. Valgus was by far the worst off. As they got to the fort, doctors were already setting up tables and had their instruments ready. Valgus had passed out, and his skin was pale and clammy. The doctors worked frantically to stop his bleeding. Artorius stood watching as Statorius grabbed him by the collar.

  “Come on!” the decanus yelled. “We have to get back to the line.”

  The rest of the morning passed in relative quiet as the Romans quickly tried to finish the work on the bridges while the Germans watched and taunted. Soon, orders were given to form the entire army up into a hollow square. First Legion was to take the front, Fifth and Twenty- First the flanks; the Twentieth took the rear. All wagons were placed in the center. Slowly the cumbersome formation started its move towards the bridges. On the other side, the fort awaited their occupation. Artorius watched as the Germans slowly started creeping towards them. Shit, there were a lot of them. More than twenty thousand legionaries were formed up in the hollow square, yet Artorius could not help but feel they were hopelessly outnumbered.

  Without warning, Cornicens on the flanks sounded the call to double-time. The Fifth and Twenty-First Legions started to take off at a run towards the bridges; their move very deliberate and organized. Artorius wondered if there had been a mix up in the orders.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Magnus swore.

  “They’re leaving the baggage trains exposed,” Praxus replied.

  “Not to mention our backsides.” Artorius observed.

  War horns sounded, and the Germans charged. Legate Severus was riding amongst the baggage trains, trying to restore order. Artorius looked in horror as their commanding general was suddenly swarmed by the enemy. Quickly, Master Centurion Flavius rode up on his horse.

  “First, Second, and Third Cohorts to the commander.” He shouted as he drew his gladius.

  With a loud cry, the three cohorts formed up in battle lines and rapidly advanced towards the Germans attacking their legate. The barbarians, upon seeing the Romans bearing down on them, gave up their assault on the legate and his bodyguard cavalry, and instead quickly grabbed what they could from the supply wagons, killed the pack animals, and fled.

  As they approached their commander, Artorius saw that Chief Tribune Strabo was with Severus. His face and his sword were covered in blood, and he was breathing heavily. Severus nodded in thanks when Flavius rode up to him.

  “We cannot save the baggage trains,” he told Flavius. “Get your men across and over to the fort. Thankfully, most of the rations and all of the artillery made it across. We just may end up sleeping on the ground tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” Flavius answered.

  As they marched into the fort, everyone knew right away where to head. The layout of a legionary fort was always the same, and every soldier from the legate down to the lowest legionary knew exactly where his place was within her. This time there was a conspicuous lack of tents and other baggage. The barbarians had taken full advantage of the time they had been given to make off with much of the Romans’ supplies and equipment.

  It’s going to be a long night, Artorius thought. He looked around and saw that most of the legionaries were obviously distraught, though he doubted it was because they would be sleeping on the ground without a tent. No, there was something more to it.

  “Dear gods, did you see how many of them there were?” Carbo said, staring at the ground.

  “I didn’t know there were that many souls in this entire festering hellhole of a land.” Valens added.

  Just then, Flaccus came walking up to talk with Statorius and the other decani. With Valgus down, it fell upon Flaccus to temporarily take over his duties. Even though Camillus was technically senior to the tesserarius, his position as signifier was too crucial for him to vacate. It was still understood should Macro fall, he would take command of the century. Artorius heard them talking about how no fires would be permitted that night, and noise discipline was to be enforced to the utmost.

  “Well, I guess we get to eat our supper cold tonight,” he muttered.

  “No fireside banter either,” Carbo mused.

  “Like we need to hear more stories about tavern wenches and their mythical sisters,” Gavius scoffed.

  “Alright, everyone gather around,” Statorius said. “As you have already heard, no fires tonight, and absolute noise discipline will be enforced. You can bet the Germans will be making all sorts of racket tonight to try and unnerve us. That’s fine, let them. In the morning, we will lay a little trap for them. Macro is getting all of the details right now. Suffice it to say, I think we may soon get the chance to inflict a little payback on these bastards.”

  Artorius smiled at the thought. “How’s Valgus?”

  “The doctors think he’ll live,” Statorius said, “but with the extent of his injuries and the loss of blood alone, I doubt that we’ll be seeing him back any time soon; they had to cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding, and I fear his leg muscle will never be the same.”

  The thought of their optio lying in a pile of rags soaked in his own blood and fluids, barely clinging to life, left a somber attitude on them. It was a sight that contrasted greatly with that of the strong, confident man who had drilled them through recruit training.

  Vitruvius went to visit his old friend that night. Valgus lay on a cot, one of the few that had not been taken by the barbarians when their baggage trains were raided. He had fresh bandages on his wound, a change from the blood soaked rags from earlier. He was awake and in obvious pain. He smiled at the sight of Vitruvius as he came walking up. Valgus reached out a hand and clasped Vitruvius’ with surprising strength. There was still a lot of fight left in the optio.

  “How are you, Valgus?” Vitruvius asked.

  “Given that the cursed spear missed my balls by a matter of centimeters, I’m doing alright,” Valgus replied. He started to laugh, but then clenched his teeth as pain shot through his hip. “Damn it, I should have known better.” He shook his head, upset with himself.

  “We were in a bad spot. You did the best you could.”

  “And now the war is over for me,” Valgus replied. “Hell, my whole damn career is over, even if I do survive this.” Tears of frustration were starting to show in his eyes.

  “Would you rather we left you to drown in the marsh back there?” the sergeant asked. “Vitruvia would have killed me.”

  Vitruvius was referring to his sister, whom Valgus had grown close to over the last couple of years, to the point where she now lived in the small community outside the fortress in order to be with him. He had intended to make their union official once he had either risen to centurion or retired. Valgus smiled at the mention of the woman he loved. He would stay alive, if only to see her again. “Just do me a favor,” he said, “don’t get overrun tomorrow. If I plan on seeing Vitruvia again, I can’t very well do it if you get wiped out.”

  Vitruvius smiled. “Agreed. Just don’t go getting that wound infected and dying on us either.”

  Both men laughed, though there was no mirth in it.

  As Vitruvius left the hospital area, he wondered whether or not they would get overrun on the morrow. He felt like a rat trapped in a cage. For the first time in many years, the invincible sergeant was afraid.

  The warriors tore through the Roman supply wagons,
each man trying to carry off as much plunder as he could. Arminius looked on, amused at the spectacle. He then turned to the council of war chiefs that he had summoned. There were many of them, all gathered around in a circle, awaiting the orders from their supreme commander. Many were older than Arminius, and these bore the scars of previous campaigns against the Romans; campaigns, that before Arminius, had been fought with little to no success.

  “Friends, brother warriors,” he began, “as you can see, once again we have the Roman Army on the run. They have walked into our trap and will soon be at our mercy. As soon as they move out from their camp, we will hunt them down and destroy them.”

  “Why should we wait for them to leave their camp?” Ingiomerus asked. “They are already within our trap. If we attack now, there is little chance of any of them escaping. Brother warriors, we have already won this battle. Let us strike now and take what plunder there is to be had while it is all in one place.”

  Many of the war chiefs shouted in agreement.

  Arminius turned to his uncle. “The Romans are headed back to winter quarters; it is unlikely they will stay in their fort for very long. It would be better if we ambushed them on the road rather than attack a fortified position.” “We do not fear death nor do we fear the Romans any longer,” one of the war chiefs said, standing up. “An attack on their fort will show they can neither run nor hide from us.”

  All the war chiefs were now standing and chanting for an attack on the Roman fort. Arminius was troubled. Yes, the Romans were reeling from the skirmishes of that day, along with the loss of their baggage trains. He also knew they were far from beaten. A direct assault on a fort containing four legions would be suicidal. Many would perish for certain. He looked at the faces of his brother war chiefs. These men were brave, but they were reckless. He also realized they were determined to go through with the attack. He would have no choice but to relent.

  “Shit,” he said quietly to himself; then to his fellow chiefs, “we will attack the Roman fort tomorrow at first light. Tonight we celebrate our pending victory. There shall be much in the way of celebration and the beating of war drums. Let us deny the Romans any sleep, and let their last night on this earth be spent cowering in fear.”

  The war chiefs all shouted in exultation and shook their weapons in the air.

  “A word, Uncle,” Arminius said as he and Ingiomerus walked away from the jubilant crowd. “By the gods, have you lost control of your senses? Do you realize that by your actions you have sent a large number of these warriors to their death? This war does not end with this action. If our losses are heavy tomorrow, we will be hard pressed to continue in this campaign.”

  “You still continue to deny these brave men the fruits of their labors,” Ingiomerus replied. “These hit and run tactics of yours, while effective, are causing you to lose credibility among the other war chiefs. There have been mutterings amongst many of them that you have lost your warrior spirit and you have lost your will to fight. These men need a real battle.”

  Arminius looked his uncle in the eye. “Then you shall lead them tomorrow. Let the glory and honor be yours.” With that he walked away.

  Artorius stood on top of the wall, staring at all of the campfires in the distance. Suddenly he was cold, and he wrapped his cloak around him. He did not really mind being on sentry duty, since sleep would be impossible to come by on this night. The drums and war chants could be heard clearly. He wondered what it was they were saying.

  “How many do you think there are?” he asked Magnus.

  “I don’t know. A lot more of them then there are of us, I’m certain.”

  “I just hope Severus has a plan to get us out of this. To be honest I’ve been wondering if this is how Varus’ men felt, when they knew they were cut off and surrounded.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t have Severus leading them,” Magnus said. They looked back to see scorpion crews unpacking their wagons.

  “About time we got some use out of them,” Artorius observed, averting his gaze back to his front.

  The war chants were growing louder, though it did not look like the Germans were getting any closer.

  “Think there’s any chance of them attacking us tonight?” Magnus asked.

  “I doubt it,” Artorius answered. “They’ll wait until daylight. These barbarians love to put on a show for all to see. Besides, even disciplined armies have difficulty fighting at night. They would all get lost and probably end up killing each other.”

  Magnus laughed quietly at the last remark. Praxus and Decimus came walking over to their position. Though they were not on duty, it seemed curiosity had gotten the best of them.

  “I wish they would shut up already,” Decimus growled.

  “It’s not like we don’t know they’re here,” Praxus added. He surveyed the vast numbers of campfires and torches in the distance. He whistled softly as he took it all in. “Damn, there are a lot of them.”

  “There will be a lot fewer after tomorrow,” Decimus retorted with a grim look.

  The others looked at him in curiosity.

  “Know something we don’t?” Magnus asked with eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, yes,” Decimus replied. “I overheard that Severus has a plan to trap the bastards tomorrow. The reason we are prohibited from making fire and any kind of noise is because that is part of the bait.”

  “Lure them in, thinking we are docile and ready for the slaughter, and then hit them with everything we have,” Artorius observed, gazing into the fire lights in the distance.

  “I hope dawn comes soon. I’d just as soon get it over with,” Magnus replied as he yawned and stretched. “Not that we’ll be able to get any sleep tonight as it is.”

  Just then they heard a great commotion as dozens of men made a mad dash to the main gate. They were in an absolute panic, and some could be heard shouting that the barbarians had breached the wall and they had been overrun.

  “What the hell is wrong with them?” Magnus asked, extremely irritated. “We haven’t been overrun.”

  “Something sure as hell spooked them,” Artorius observed.

  As the frightened soldiers closed on the main gate, Severus could be seen running from the other direction and dove onto his stomach in front of the mob.

  “Surely none of you will trample your commander.” they heard him shout.

  The men stopped in their tracks. Even their overwhelming fear would not allow them to commit such gross disrespect.

  As everyone waited to see what would happen next, a voice could be heard shouting, “It’s just a damn horse that got loose.”

  At that moment, a centurion ran in between the soldiers and their commander. He was swinging his vine stick violently at anyone in reach.

  “What the hell is this? You bloody cowards run from a horse? By fucking Hades, I’ll give you something to be afraid of!” A wave of profanity spewed forth from his mouth as he beat and chastised those unfortunate enough to be in range of his blows.

  The soldiers who had fled started running back to their camps, ashamed and humiliated by their conduct. Severus had gotten to his feet and caught up to the enraged centurion. He grabbed the man by the shoulder before he could pursue the fleeing legionaries. The men exchanged a few words, and the centurion seemed to have calmed down some. He gave Severus an affirmative nod as the legate gave him a good-natured smack on the shoulder and walked back to his tent.

  “There’s something you don’t see every day,” Magnus observed.

  Artorius snorted an irritated reply. “I just hope they don’t panic tomorrow when we have a real fight on our hands.”

  Chapter XIII: The Trap is Sprung

  ***

  Dawn finally came. As it did, Severus called a meeting of all of the senior officers in each legion. All Cohort Commanders were present. He sat mounted on his horse as he gazed into the faces of his men. He saw weariness in their eyes from lack of sleep, but also a fierce determination. The embarrassing events of the night before for
gotten. Severus swore that he would never mention it in front of his men, especially when, at that moment, they needed inspiration.

  “Today the undisciplined warriors of our enemy, Arminius, will try and do to us what they did to Varus. We will not share their fate. I predict that the Germans will think us beaten and cowering in fear. I look at you, and I look at your men. I see no cowards here. I see men ready to face the barbarians and ready to send those bastards straight to Hades’ door.

  “Each legion will take a side of the perimeter. We will offer only token resistance with our archers, allowing them to think they have us beaten. Once they close on the wall, we will withdraw our archers. Each legion will have cohorts designated for assault and javelin throwers. As the barbarians come over the walls, we will hammer them with as many javelin volleys as we can. Scorpions will be placed directly behind each gate and behind the javelin throwers. Once the barbarians have been beaten back from the walls, the assaulting elements will open the gates, fire two volleys from the scorpions, and attack. Our best equestrians will lead the attack which they will execute in wedge formation, breaking the German ranks and allowing the infantry time to form up. All officers are hereby ordered to give their horses to the equestrian ranks. To show that I myself will not flee from the battle should things go wrong, I will be the first to hand over my horse.” With that he dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a waiting soldier.

  “Whatever happens today, I will share your fate.”

  Ingiomerus stood at the head of the horde. All were tense with anticipation. The Roman fort seemed small and insignificant compared to the intimidating might of his warriors. He looked over at the men he commanded. Most carried wicker or wooden shields, with spears or clubs as their primary weapons. Only a few of the more wealthy, like him, carried swords. His was a two-handed broadsword. It was heavy, which he hoped would help him crack through the Roman shields and armor. While his warriors were not as well equipped as their enemy, they were brave and would not falter.