The Forgotten Legion tflc-1

by Ben Kane

  Longinus struggled to contain his rage. With a crisp salute, he turned to leave but suddenly bent towards Ariamnes. 'Prove treacherous and I will crucify you myself,' he whispered before marching away.

  'So. Today we shall sweep aside these gnats who have been annoying my men,' declared Crassus.

  The Nabataean smiled.

  Shortly afterwards, Romulus and Tarquinius watched as the long column of Nabataean cavalry rode eastwards.

  'He's just letting them all go?'

  'We will not see them again,' said the Etruscan, peering at the fine layer of cloud positioned in the sky high above the departing horsemen.

  Romulus shook his head in disbelief.

  'I predicted that one.' Brennus was sharpening the longsword again. 'The general is a fool.'

  'Ariamnes is very persuasive and simply told Crassus what he wanted to hear,' observed the Etruscan.

  'We have only two thousand cavalry left now,' said Romulus. 'How many Parthian horsemen will there be?'

  'Up to five times that number.'

  Romulus frowned, trying to calculate the number of arrows that many archers could loose.

  Tarquinius checked there was nobody else within earshot. 'Thousands will lose their lives in the coming battle.'

  The Gaul's face darkened. 'What about us?'

  'So many spirits were leaving this existence. ' The Etruscan seemed unusually troubled. 'It is difficult to be precise,' he admitted. 'But I feel sure that two of us will survive, because I have seen our friendship endure past the bloodshed and killing.'

  Brennus prepared himself for the worst. Let me die bravely, he thought. With honour, protecting Romulus and Tarquinius. So I can meet Brac and my uncle in paradise with no shame. Tell Liath that this time I did not run when my loved ones needed me. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard, struggling to quell the guilt that still ruled him.

  Romulus scowled. How could any man see the spirits of the dead? Obviously plenty of men would die fighting the Parthians, but to know exactly which ones? It was not possible. He looked up to find Tarquinius' eyes on him, his gaze piercing. Unnerved, Romulus found himself unable to meet it. Perhaps it was his turn to die. His stomach lurched and he quickly threw up a prayer to Jupiter to protect them all.

  'And the rest of the cohort?' asked the big warrior.

  Tarquinius was reluctant to answer but Brennus persisted.

  Silence.

  The Gaul blanched. 'Every single one?'

  'Virtually all.'

  'Sometimes you see too much,' Brennus said, shivering. He stared at the unsuspecting mercenaries preparing for another day in this furnace. It was chilling to imagine them all being killed, and it reminded him strongly of the last time he had seen his fellow Allobroge warriors readying themselves for battle.

  As always after the Etruscan's predictions, images of Fabiola and his mother filled Romulus' mind. He longed to ask about them, but dared not. If Tarquinius revealed something dark or evil, the young man was not sure he could refuse to believe it as well. Their fragile memories were sacred, even intrinsic to his survival. They helped him to continue marching into this wilderness.

  The sun climbed fast from the horizon, bringing its heat to bear with renewed vengeance. The Nabataean cavalry had not been gone for long before trumpets sounded to break camp. Discipline was still strong and the army was soon ready to move. At the front stood the irregular cohorts, followed by five legions and the baggage train. Two legions now protected the rear, leaving the Gaulish and Iberian cavalry on the flanks. It was a thin protective screen for the number of infantry.

  Bassius listened carefully to the last series of commands. 'Time to go. I want twenty miles from you today.'

  Following the Nabataeans' hoof prints, two troops of Gauls galloped off in front.

  The soldiers marched after them into the empty desert. The horizon remained clear of enemy horsemen and their spirits rose. But as the hours passed without a single cloud to provide respite from the burning sun, the enemy was forgotten as the extreme heat again took its terrible toll on the footsore Romans. Many had drunk all their water the day before and, contrary to Crassus' opinion, the mules had been carrying enough for only some of the soldiers. As thirst levels increased, the rest had no option but to keep walking. The three friends sucked grimly on pebbles, hoarding the remaining liquid in their leather bags as if it was gold.

  And then it seemed as if the gods had remembered Crassus' army. Half a dozen Gauls came riding back with news that there was a river ahead. The legions' speed almost doubled, and quickly they made out the typical desert haze that formed over water in the distance.

  Patches of reeds on the banks were trampled flat as thirsty mercenaries tramped into the shallow rivulet. Men flopped down headlong in an effort to get cool. But Romulus and his comrades were not allowed long to fill their containers.

  'Did I say stop? Or fall out? No!' Bassius roared. 'Keep marching! Bastards!'

  Relishing the feeling on his weary muscles, Romulus splashed through the calf-high water. 'A rest would be good,' he muttered, careful not to let the centurion hear.

  'Some chance!' Brennus drained his bag, stooping to fill it immediately. 'Drink as much as you can.'

  'There'll be no rest for a while.' Tarquinius pointed ahead.

  Romulus and the Gaul tore their attention from the refreshing liquid.

  All the scouts were riding back at the gallop.

  Romulus saw Brennus' hand reaching for his sword. Automatically he did the same, sweat forming on his brow.

  The Gauls rushed past the mercenaries, heading directly to Crassus' position. Moments later the bucinae blared with a stridency the men had not heard before.

  'Hear that? Enemy in sight! Double time!'

  The cohort responded with as much urgency as they could muster, pounding up the river bank, each man hoping the Gauls were wrong.

  For the rest of his days, Romulus would remember the sight that greeted him.

  On a flat plain in the middle distance sat the Parthian army, a formation nearly a mile across. Their appearance distorted by the haze, thousands of men on horseback waited patiently for the Romans. Huge, brightly coloured banners swirled in the hot air, making them appear even more alien. The noise of pounding drums and clanging bells reached the legions as signallers relayed messages to and fro.

  It was an immensely intimidating sight for the exhausted Roman soldiers. Sunburnt faces went pale and oaths were spat. More than one mercenary looked west to the Euphrates and safety.

  'Jupiter's balls!' swore Brennus. 'No infantry at all?'

  'I told you there would be none,' replied Tarquinius.

  There was a short silence. The Gaul visibly braced himself. 'We 'll cope,' he said simply. 'We 'll have to.'

  The Etruscan's dark eyes were calm. 'It will all be clear by nightfall.'

  They nodded grimly. With a battle to fight, there was little point entertaining fearful thoughts. It was courage and Roman gladii that they needed now.

  'What are those?' Romulus pointed at tall humped creatures with long necks and legs, standing behind the enemy lines.

  'Camels. The Parthians use them as mules,' explained Tarquinius. 'And they'll be carrying spare arrows, so those bastard archers don't run out. With that many of them, each man will have hundreds of shafts. Real trouble.'

  'Because our damn shields are practically useless,' said Brennus, thumping his scutum.

  The Etruscan nodded. 'The warriors train with those composite bows every day, my friend. Remember what they did yesterday.'

  'But we are free men now.' Brennus clapped Romulus on the shoulder. 'If the gods will it, we shall die together — with our swords in our hands and the sun on our faces. Better than in the arena for that bastard Memor.'

  'True.' Romulus met the Gaul's gaze squarely. Mention of the lanista made him remember Cotta's lessons. 'Spartacus wouldn't have worried about facing the Parthians,' he said. 'He always had plenty of horsemen.'


  'That Thracian had far more ability than Crassus,' agreed Tarquinius. 'He only got beaten because Crixus, his second-in-command, wouldn't leave Italy. Spartacus would never have led his men into a mess like this.'

  Romulus sank into a reverie, imagining himself in charge of the army, Tarquinius and Brennus by his side. Keeping the cavalry on the wings would be the most urgent task, to prevent the legions being outflanked while they formed up. Then the centre could make a tactical withdrawal as the Parthians attacked, allowing the cavalry to enfold the enemy. It was how Hannibal had won so many of his battles against Rome.

  Tarquinius regarded him keenly. 'Crassus will not think of trying Carthaginian tactics. The fool thinks all we have to do is advance and the Parthians will flee.'

  Romulus was stunned. 'Men like you two should be in charge,' he blurted.

  Tarquinius inclined his head. 'And you, Romulus.'

  He flushed with delight.

  'We 'd do a better job than Crassus,' chuckled Brennus.

  'That would not be difficult.' Tarquinius squinted at the Parthians, counting under his breath.

  Bassius ordered his men to take up a defensive position on the ridge. One cohort could do little but wait for the rest of the army to catch up. Not a man moved from the Parthian force. Their trap sprung, the enemy was content to let the Romans take up battle formation.

  'Shows how confident their leader is. They could be riding in and showering us with arrows.'

  'Maybe he wants to fight Crassus in single combat!' joked the Gaul. 'We could put our feet up and watch.'

  'It'll be common soldiers bleeding today,' said Tarquinius. 'Not leaders.'

  Reconciling himself to his fate, Brennus shrugged his massive shoulders. 'Lanistae. Generals. Whoever. They give the orders. Men like us die.'

  Keeping the Etruscan's reassuring words uppermost in his mind, Romulus prayed to Jupiter, his guide since childhood.

  You did not need to be a soothsayer to know that thousands would die in the forthcoming battle.

  And possibly one of them.

  'Where is Ariamnes?' Crassus sat bolt upright in the saddle, his face pinched with anger.

  Nobody answered.

  There had been no sign of the Nabataeans since dawn. With the full Parthian army in sight, it was obvious that the Romans' erstwhile ally would not be returning.

  Ariamnes was a traitor.

  'Son of a whore! I will have him disembowelled. Then crucified.'

  Longinus tactfully cleared his throat. 'What are your orders, sir?'

  Crassus glared at him, but, unwilling to acknowledge any mistakes, his eyes dropped away. 'Cavalry on the wings. Cohorts in one square formation,' the general blustered, picking the boldest tactic he could think of. 'That rabble will take one look at us and flee.'

  The grizzled legate gasped. 'And leave gaps between the units?'

  'Those are my orders. Is that clear?' said Crassus, bunching his jaw. Although he could immediately see what Longinus meant, his monumental pride was still smarting at the exposure of Ariamnes' treachery. 'This way their greater numbers of horse cannot flank us.'

  'Yes, but it also allows those bastards to ride between us,' replied Longinus, expecting his fellow officers to voice their support. None was forthcoming. The legate glared at them, then continued undeterred. 'Sir, solid lines would be better. Then only a small number of men could be attacked at one time.'

  Crassus' eyes bulged. 'Are you questioning my orders again?'

  'Merely offering advice.'

  'Insubordination!' Crassus cried. The black cloak he had donned that morning clung to his back, soaked in sweat. The legionaries on guard nearby eyed it uneasily. Black was the colour of death. 'Get into position, Legate, before I have you whipped.'

  Longinus' jaw clenched. Few people would dare speak to a senior officer in such a manner. 'You are making a big mistake, sir,' he said insolently. The general needed him too much to follow through on the threat. 'Solid lines would be best.'

  Crassus glanced at the others. 'Anyone care to agree?'

  There was silence. His subordinates had been well picked.

  'Consider your career finished,' said Crassus. 'If you survive the battle!'

  'See what the Senate says about this back in Rome. They still have some power.' Longinus snorted with contempt and rode away, swallowing his anger. Crassus' arrogance would not stop them smashing the Parthians. He would sort out his problems with the general later. Longinus tried to put the bull's heart, the reversed eagle standard and the black cloak out of his mind.

  'What are you all waiting for?' Spittle flew from Crassus' lips. 'Get out of my sight!'

  The legates hastened to obey.

  There was a battle to win.

  Chapter XXIV: Publius and Surena

  It took nearly half the afternoon for every legion to reach the plain. The desert horsemen sat in the shimmering haze, waiting patiently. Drums and bells kept up a relentless din. The outlandish sound was mindful of wild animals' roars intermingled with the sound of thunder.

  It was terrifying.

  Having waited the longest, the mercenaries were worst affected by the melting temperatures. Few had any water left and again men began to collapse from dehydration and heat exhaustion. The stronger soldiers did what they could for their comrades before battle commenced. Bassius stalked up and down, cajoling and threatening by turn. His sheer drive helped rally spirits that had fallen to a new low.

  With Crassus' army finally in place, a staccato series of notes sounded from the bucinae. The waiting was over.

  'You heard!' screamed the centurions. 'Get into position!'

  Following routines that had been practised many times, the legions fanned out across the plain in a massive four-sided formation. Simultaneously each cohort formed into another hollow square, three men deep, forty in length and breadth. A hundred paces separated each from its neighbours in front and behind. Crassus, his officers and two veteran cohorts took their position in the empty middle along with the baggage train while the Gaulish and Iberian cavalry moved to sit on the wings. It was a most unusual formation for the start of a battle.

  'What is he doing?' Romulus frowned. It was clear what would happen as soon as the attack began.

  'Crassus thinks we might be completely outflanked,' said Brennus. 'This prevents it.'

  'But not much else,' added Romulus, imagining how the Parthians would respond.

  'He is a fool!' Tarquinius peered round angrily. 'Those archers will simply ride between the cohorts and pick us off with ease.'

  It was unsettling that they could all see what would happen but Crassus could not. Any respect for authority Romulus had left was disappearing fast.

  The Parthian leader was still in no hurry to attack. He waited until the Roman army had stopped manoeuvring.

  At an unseen signal, the drums began pounding a heavy, rhythmic beat, different from before. The bells also changed tempo, their volume making even speech impossible. The noise went on and on, intimidating with its sheer energy. Exhausted by sunstroke and the incredible temperature, the dazed soldiers could only stare at the enemy, unsure what to do.

  Suddenly, the clamour stopped.

  A large group of horsemen in the Parthian centre separated from the rest. Slowly they moved forward to within a few hundred paces of the Roman front ranks, halting in unison.

  Romulus peered into the haze. 'Who are they?'

  'The cataphracts.' There was respect in Tarquinius' voice. 'Their elite heavy cavalry.'

  'Long spears like Greek hoplites carry would soon sort them out,' said Romulus fiercely. 'If we had any.'

  'Or a defensive ditch,' added the Gaul.

  Tarquinius nodded approvingly.

  The weary Romans stared miserably at the enemy, unable to do more than bake in the intense heat. It was almost a relief when the instruments started up again. With a flourish, the Parthian riders whipped off their cloaks, revealing chain mail from neck to mid-thigh. In each soldier's right hand
was a heavy lance. The horses were also covered in armour, creating an immense wall of metal. Sunlight bounced off thousands of iron rings, reflecting towards the Romans in waves of blinding light.

  Crassus' soldiers found it impossible to look directly at the cataphracts and the dazzling light wasn't the only reason. Fear was creeping into men's hearts.

  'Amazing.' Tarquinius pointed excitedly. 'The andabatae in the arena were a mockery of the real thing.'

  Romulus had only heard of the mounted gladiators who wore helmets with no eyeholes.

  'Roman savages,' said the Gaul. 'Sending blind men into the arena to fight.'

  'These riders are a different proposition,' pronounced the Etruscan.

  Romulus was amazed by the mail rippling down the horses' flanks. He had never seen anything like it.

  The cataphracts waited, maximising their terrifying effect. The drums kept up their dreadful din, deepening the sense of impending doom. Mercenaries and legionaries shifted uneasily from foot to foot. The unease in Crassus' army was becoming palpable, spreading to every man. Normally it was the Romans who scared their enemies by standing in silence before battle.

  'Might have a decent fight today.' Brennus hefted his spear impatiently, eager to end their wait. 'Those bastards actually look dangerous.'

  Tarquinius smiled humourlessly.

  Wishing the battle would just start, Romulus checked his sword was loose in its scabbard, his pilum head securely attached to the shaft. Stay calm, he thought.

  For what seemed an eternity, the two armies faced each other, soaking up the intense heat. The tension was unbearable.

  And then the noise stopped. Immediately the horse archers moved forward while the heavy cavalry remained where they were.

  'Prepare for an enemy charge,' ordered Bassius. 'Close order!'

  The mercenaries had been well trained. Quickly the men readied their pila and spears and moved closer, standing shoulder to shoulder. Like tiny cogs in a big machine, thousands of soldiers across the battlefield did the same. Their shields overlapping, the formations presented the Parthians with dozens of armoured squares.

  The enemy urged their mounts to a trot, followed by a gallop. The earth shook with the thunder of hooves and Romulus felt his stomach clench. The previous day's attacks would be as nothing compared to this.