Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

  ‘Good,’ Titus muttered grimly as he turned to gaze into the forest.

  ‘How large is the enemy force Sir?’ Fergus said quietly.

  Titus gave Fergus an annoyed look.

  ‘Thousands,’ he growled.

  Chapter Twenty-Four – War beyond the Imperial Frontier

  Up ahead the forest was starting to thin out, and through the branches and trees Fergus could make out wide-open fields. The smell of wood-smoke filled his nostrils and a strange silence seemed to have descended upon the land. As he stepped out from the tree cover, he took a deep breath. Covering the fields in front of him was the barbarian camp. Hundreds of small cooking fires dotted the grassy plain. Smoke was rising into the sky in little twisting wisps. Drawn up facing the forest, fifty paces away from Fergus, was a solid looking shield wall bristling with thousands of armed Germans. And as the Roman companies emerged from the forest, a great defiant and thundering roar rose from the packed barbarian ranks. Fergus took another deep breath as he forced himself to keep walking towards the enemy. He’d been right. They were not going to be taking the Germans by surprise. The enemy had chosen to fight instead of melting away into the forest. But at least the barbarian camp did not seem to have any fixed defences. The space between the forest and the German shield wall was unobstructed.

  A Roman trumpet blared out and abruptly the Roman legionaries came to a halt. Across the open-space between the two sides the Germans raised their weapons in the air and screamed and roared. Then, as the legionaries stared at their enemy in passive silence, the Germans began to chant, a deep-throated chant taken up by thousands of voices.

  ‘Out, out, out!’ ‘Out, out, out!’

  ‘Fergus, Furius, take your positions on the flank in the first line,’ Titus roared above the chanting. ‘Company will advance when you hear the signal. Kill everything that crosses your path.’

  Tensely Fergus hastened to his allotted position on the extreme left of the company’s section of the battle-line. Hefting his shield protectively in front of him, he glanced quickly down the Roman line. The legionaries were staring at the barbarian lines as they awaited the order to attack. Turning to look at his own men, Fergus suddenly saw Aledus standing in the front line. And beside him, Catinius, Vittius and the others and suddenly Fergus felt very exposed. He should have been with his comrades. What was he doing here all alone in the line? But there was no time to dwell on that. Above the chanting Germans, he could hear the Roman officers screaming orders to their men.

  ‘Wedge formation,’ Fergus yelled at the men closest to him. ‘Once we attack you will form wedges just like we have trained for. Form up on your Decanus. Stay within formation, cover your neighbour and kill everything that crosses your path. No mercy. Those bastards over there may be loud but they are no match for us.’

  There was no more time to say anything else. Across the fields a Roman trumpet rang out and, to his right Fergus heard Titus’s ferocious bellowing voice.

  ‘Second Company will advance!’

  Silently the Roman line began to advance towards the German shield wall. Then one by one the legionaries began to bang their spears against their shield’s until the whole Roman line was clashing their weapons against their shields. The rhythmic noise began to compete with the German chanting. Grimly, Fergus stared at the enemy as he strode towards them. The barbarians, clad in their drab, grey and black clothing, looked formidable and terrifying and, amongst their numbers he caught sight of women and children armed in the same fashion as their menfolk.

  When the Roman front line had closed to within fifteen yards of the enemy, a great roar rose from the Roman ranks and drawing back their spears, they flung them at the German shield-wall, drew their short swords, and charged. The volley of spears hammered into the enemy ranks, cutting down countless warriors. Shrieks and cries rose from the German line and the survivors stumbled backwards, but the shield wall held and the Germans stood their ground. Fergus, released from an unbearable tension, screamed as he came charging straight into the German line. His shield slammed into a warrior, sending the man tumbling backwards into his comrades. Wildly Fergus thrust his sword at the Germans but his thrust was parried. The next moment he was staggering backwards under a flurry of furious hammer-blows that landed on his shield, as an enraged barbarian attacked him with a huge spiked-club. The warrior was a full head taller than Fergus and his face was contorted in rage. There was no time to issue orders. In the vicious hand-to-hand combat, it was every man for himself now. Another German joined the attack on Fergus, trying to skewer him with his spear but, just as he thrust his weapon at Fergus, a Roman gladius sliced into his stomach, tearing a gaping and bloody hole in his guts, which promptly spilled out. Fergus thrust his shield into a barbarian trying to push him backwards, but the man would not budge and for an insane moment, the two of them stood screaming at each other as they struggled and jostled trying to push one another back. Then with a furious cry Fergus raised his sword and managed to drive it into his opponent’s neck.

  On both sides of him the whole Roman front line had become embroiled in a vicious, snarling and brutal fight with the German shield-wall. In the bloody chaos men were furiously pushing, hacking and stabbing at each other and around them the dead, dying and wounded were piling up. Shrieks, screams and yells shattered the plain and there was no way of knowing who was winning. To his right, a Decanus had managed to form a small V shaped wedge with himself at the tip, and the small tight Roman scrum was beginning to fight its way deeper into the German line. Leaping sideways, Fergus joined the rear of the formation, his right flank protected by the shield of the next man.

  ‘Forwards,’ the Decanus roared as he took a step forwards, crouching behind his shield that was protecting him from the furious enemy battering and thrusts. And as he stepped forwards, the men on either side of him did the same presenting a continuous shield wall from behind which, they jabbed and stabbed at the Germans with their short swords. The tactics had been practised so often on the training field that every legionary knew them instinctively. They had a devastating impact on the barbarians.

  ‘Forwards,’ the Decanus roared again and once again crouching behind his shield he took another step forwards. Around the little V shaped Roman scrum, the barbarian line began to buckle as the Germans seemed incapable of breaking the tight armoured formation and the legionary swords jabbing and stabbing at them from behind the protection of their shields began to exact a terrible toll. Fergus cried out as his sword went straight into a man’s chest. Violently he twisted the blade free and pushed the warrior to the ground with his shield.

  ‘Forwards,’ the Decanus yelled in a hoarse voice. Quickly Fergus stepped forwards keeping contact with the Roman V shaped scrum. Then to his right, above the din he suddenly recognised Titus’s ferocious bellowing voice. The Centurion seemed to crying out in warning, but his words were lost in the din of battle. Wildly Fergus turned to look to his left and as he did, he immediately understood Titus’s warning. A gap was opening in the Roman line between his company and their neighbours. The Germans had not yet spotted it, but they would soon.

  ‘Hold the fucking line,’ Fergus screamed. ‘We are losing contact with our left flank.’

  The Decanus leading the advance showed no indication that he was listening. All along the battle line, the Romans had got stuck into the barbarians, trying to push them back with their shields and stabbing at them with their deadly effective short swords. The horrific screams of the fighting men on both sides had become indistinguishable. But as he staggered and strained under the weight of a furious attack by a German wielding an axe, Fergus saw that the front of the tight Roman V shaped scrum, was no longer moving forwards.

  ‘Move to the left,’ Fergus roared as he flung the barbarian backwards, trying to smash the metal boss of his shield into the man’s face. ‘Move to the left. Don’t let them get through the gap.’

  And slowly the Roman soldiers around him, began to edge towards the left. Fro
m the barbarian lines a furious howl rose as a few barbarians tried to rush into the gap, but they were swiftly cut down by the legionaries that came at them from both sides. Within seconds the Roman line had closed the gap, once more forming a continuous line of formidable armour, shields and jabbing swords. A blow struck Fergus’s shield sending the shock vibrating through his entire body. Grimly he slammed his iron shield boss into the barbarian who was trying to cut him down, and followed it up with a vicious thrust of his bloodied sword. His blow sliced through an arm and he was rewarded with a howl as his opponent dropped his axe. Furiously Fergus knocked the German to the ground and killed him with another sword-thrust to the man’s exposed neck. A stream of blood erupted like a fountain splattering Fergus’s shield and face.

  ‘Forwards,’ a Roman voice roared.

  And once more the Roman scrum began to advance into the German line. Crouching behind his shield Fergus grimly stepped forwards, bracing himself as another barbarian came at him. The Germans were putting up a stubborn fight. His opponents were huge, wild-looking men, at least a head taller than him, but what they had in courage and strength, they lacked in weapons, armour and training. Dimly Fergus became aware of a trumpet blaring out across the battlefield. Straining to hold back the German battering and pushing against his shield, he suddenly became aware of the thud of horses’ hooves. The next moment the pressure pushing against him slackened, then broke completely. Astonished, Fergus saw the barbarians in front of him start to fall back in confusion. Then with incredible speed the confusion turned into a full-scale rout. Snatching a glance to his right, Fergus saw a group of Batavian horsemen galloping through the running figures, slashing at the enemy with their long cavalry swords. The defiant screams and yells of the barbarians had abruptly changed to shouts of terror. There was no time to wonder about what had happened. Raising his sword in the air, Fergus turned to the men around him.

  ‘After them, after them,’ he roared.

  And with a ferocious blood-curdling yell the Roman legionaries began to pursue the fleeing enemy. As Fergus stormed forwards through the remains of the barbarian camp, he was overwhelmed with a furious, heady sense of triumph and rage. It was time to finish the Germans. It was time to slaughter them all, to take revenge on the men who had tried to kill him. The fields around him were littered with corpses and dying men. Up ahead more Batavian cavalry had appeared and were mowing down the fleeing barbarians as they attempted to reach the relative safety of the forest. The shrieks and high-pitched screams of the fleeing men grew louder and louder. The rout was turning into a massacre. As he leapt over a corpse, Fergus suddenly heard a woman scream. A few yards away beside a smoking camp fire, he caught sight of a Roman legionary wrestling with a young barbarian woman on the ground. The soldier had dropped his shield and sword and seemed to be trying to throttle the girl. Without thinking Fergus leapt towards the fight and with a ferocious kick sent the Roman soldier tumbling away into the grass. The girl screamed, as she saw Fergus’s bloody sword and blood spattered face. Terrified she tried to scramble to her feet but harshly Fergus knocked her to the ground and pointed his sword at her neck.

  ‘Stay down, stay down,’ he screamed.

  The next moment the Roman soldier whom he had kicked into the grass was coming at Fergus with a wild, crazed look in his eyes. But as the man tried to grasp hold of Fergus’s throat, Fergus struck him with a vicious blow to his head and swiftly sent the soldier tumbling back to the ground with his shield. Wildly Fergus turned to stare at the girl. He didn’t know why he was doing this. Some instinct and reflex had kicked-in but as he stared at the girl cowering on the ground the raw violent blood lust inside him started to subside.

  Around him all was confusion as the Roman legionaries swept through the enemy camp, killing, looting and finishing off the remnants of the barbarian force. Horrific screams and pleas for mercy rang out everywhere. Fergus stood over the girl, pointing his sword at her neck, suddenly unsure of what he was supposed to do. The fight was over. The surviving Germans were fleeing for their lives and from somewhere to the rear a trumpet rang out. The Roman soldier who he had knocked to the ground was gingerly picking himself up. The man gave Fergus a murderous look as he reached for a sword and stomped off. On the ground close to the German camp-fire lay the bodies of two women. Fergus, his chest heaving from exertion stared at the girl as she whimpered and crawled over to one of the corpses, cradling its head in her arms. Fergus growled as he stood over her unsure whether he should kill her or let her live. Around him the legionaries had begun to plunder the dead of anything of value. A few of the men cast envious glances at the girl but as they saw Fergus standing over her they seemed to change their minds and move off to find easier pickings.

  At his feet, the German girl was whimpering as she cradled the dead woman’s head in her arms. The girl looked around sixteen and had long coal-black hair and strange Germanic runes tattooed onto her forehead. From the corner of his eye Fergus caught sight of Titus’s plumed helmet. The Centurion was moving across the battlefield, crying out orders to his men. With a grunt Fergus made up his mind.

  ‘You are mine now,’ Fergus cried kicking the girl’s legs. ‘You belong to me. You are my slave. Mine, do you understand.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five – The Slave Markets of Carnuntum

  The Forum, the central market place of Carnuntum, was packed with shoppers, merchants, pedestrians and off duty soldiers. In the large, open square, lined with dozens and dozens of market stalls and shops, the noise of hundreds upon hundreds of voices, bellowing oxen, barking dogs, mingled with the advertising cries of the merchants and a multitude of street entertainers, prostitutes, religious-nuts, all trying to lure the town’s citizens and soldiers to spend their money with them. It was noon. Fergus and a large group of men from the Second Company, slowly pushed their way through the crowds, past the large stone statue to Emperor Trajan and on towards the section of the Forum reserved for the slave trade. The men were clad in their white tunics over, which they were wearing their long, winter cloaks. Their sheathed swords hung from their belts, and as they pushed through the crowd, the civilians hastily and respectfully moved aside. A full day had passed since the battle on the other side of the Danube and Hadrian, in recognition of the resounding Roman victory, had ordered that the soldiers who had taken part, would be granted two days leave. And that had meant two days of freedom to visit the brothels, the amphitheatre and other attractions that Carnuntum had to offer.

  As they made their way towards the slave pens, Fergus glanced around at his legionaries. The company had suffered three dead and six wounded, two of which were in a serious condition. But from his old squad none had been killed or seriously wounded and for that he was glad. The battle had been a sobering experience and afterwards, none of them had wanted to talk about it. But now as they strode through the crowded Forum the soldiers with him looked relaxed and happy and so they should Fergus thought. In addition to the two days leave, the Legate Hadrian had also decreed that the soldiers would be allowed to keep all the loot and booty that they had taken from the defeated enemy. And for some of the men, including him, that had meant that they could keep the prisoners who they had captured. The soldiers were about to become rich by selling their prisoners as slaves to the slave traders in the Forum.

  Through the noisy crowds the slave pens hove into view and eagerly Fergus peered at the large, iron cages, hoping to spot the girl who he had captured. The German prisoners and slaves, languishing inside the large cages, looked utterly miserable and dejected. They sat around on the ground, their ankles and hands bound together in iron, slavers-chains. Others stood on their feet, clasping the side of their cages and staring vacantly into the crowds of onlookers. Most of the slaves were silent, still clad in their blood-smeared and torn clothing. But here and there a defiant spirit was shouting and cursing the onlookers. The crowds however, seemed to be taking no notice, as if they had seen it all before. Eagerly Fergus searched the cages. Men and wome
n seemed to have been separated, but in the female cages he saw no sign of his girl with the long, black hair and tattooed forehead. The slavers who had come to round up the prisoners after the battle, had branded each one on the shoulder with a number and had given their owners a token, with the corresponding number as a receipt. And now the time had come to cash in his bounty. Fergus sighed. And now too, he understood what Adalwolf had meant, when he’d said that the battle was going to be lucrative. The girl could be worth over a thousand Denarii; his mates had suggested. That was over three year’s salary. A huge sum. It all depended on the skill of the auctioneer who would sell the slaves on the soldier’s behalf, his comrades had said.

  As the soldiers reached the slave pens and began to eagerly and excitedly gather around the auctioneers, Fergus left them and came towards the iron cages containing the female slaves. Slowly, searching for his girl, he strode along the iron bars, gazing at the miserable looking humanity. Inside the cages, the female slaves were silent and avoided his gaze. The girl had not said a word to him. She had refused to speak when the slavers had talked to her in her own language. The only noise she had made, after he had pulled her away from the corpses beside the fire, was to scream when the slavers had branded her with her number; twenty-one. But she had understood him, when he’d said she was his slave, Fergus thought. He was sure that she had understood that, for when the slavers had come to take her away she had turned to stare at him, as she was being led away.

  Then suddenly he saw her. The girl was sitting in the far corner of one of the cages, furthest from the crowds and she was staring sullenly at the ground. She had not seen him. Fergus paused, and for a long moment, he gazed at her through the bars of the cage. She looked around sixteen. Her long, black hair was stained with mud and dried blood and she was still wearing the same clothes, in which she had been captured. She wasn’t too bad-looking either if he overlooked the strange runes tattooed onto her forehead. With a sigh, Fergus turned to look away. On the raised, wooden platform in front of the slave pens, the first of the prisoners had been dragged up onto the stage and was being sold to the crowd of slave merchants who had gathered around the platform. The soldiers from the Second Company looked on eagerly, as the auctioneers skilfully began to raise the bidding price, selling their humans as if they were in a cattle market. Suddenly Fergus turned to look the other way, filled with disgust. Efa and Dylis, his grandmother and aunt had once been slaves in Caledonia and, as a boy, they had told him about the degrading things that they had been forced to do. Turning to look around him, Fergus sighed. He didn’t like this place. What was he doing here? This was no place for him to spend his day off. But as he was about to walk away, he paused as his fingers closed around the small, stone-token in his hands. The girl belonged to him. She was worth a lot of money. Money, which might help his family back on Vectis. If he left her here without, claiming her then she would still be sold and someone else would just get her premium. No, he would still have to do this. But, as he turned to stare at the miserable looking girl through the iron bars, Fergus was suddenly torn by indecision. Efa and Dylis would never forgive him if he sold her. Wearily he cast a quick-glance up at the heavens. What would Corbulo have done in this situation? But there was no answer from the grey clouds.