Germania (Veteran of Rome Book 5)

by William Kelso

  ‘It’s old, possibly hundreds of years old,’ Adalwolf muttered, glancing around as he and Fergus jumped over the ditch and entered the debris-strewn square enclosure. The ditch and original layout are possibly the work of the Celts. They liked to build their settlements in a square.’ Calmly Adalwolf pointed at the three shelters. ‘The huts however are newer. They look like the kind that the Marcomanni or Quadi would build. They must have re-used the old settlement.’

  Fergus did not reply as he turned to look around the small square settlement. Then with a grunt he made up his mind and turned to Adalwolf.

  ‘Well this is it,’ Fergus said. ‘I am tired of running. This is where we are going to stay and make our stand.’

  ‘What,’ Adalwolf frowned.

  ‘Adalwolf,’ Fergus replied in a sudden quiet and resigned voice. ‘We are never going to make it back to the Danube without being overtaken by Gaiseric and his warband. You know that just as well as I do. No, it is better if we turn on our pursuers and make a stand. We can fortify this place. Gather our remaining animals within the settlement and await Gaiseric’s arrival.’

  ‘And then what?’ Adalwolf said in an alarmed voice, as he stared straight at Fergus.

  ‘Then we fight to the death,’ Fergus said coldly. ‘We either win or we die. But in here the men will at least stand a chance. It is better than being overtaken and massacred in the forest.’

  ‘Some chance,’ Adalwolf snorted turning to gaze at the ruined settlement. ‘Gaiseric outnumbers us two or three to one and we don’t have the time to turn this place into a proper fortress. We are going to get slaughtered.’

  ‘Those are my orders,’ Fergus said, harshly rounding on Adalwolf. ‘We shall camp here tonight and we shall do what we can to repair the defences. That’s what we are going to do. I have made up my mind.’ Fergus paused, his chest heaving with sudden emotion. ‘As you are not a soldier,’ he said in a gentler voice, ‘and you haven’t sworn an oath of allegiance to the Emperor, you are free to leave us at any time. So, I want you to take Hadrian, his two advisers and the slaves and get the Legate back to Carnuntum. Use one of the sledges. I shall give you our strongest remaining horses and enough supplies to make it back. Do what you must, but get Hadrian back home alive. Do you understand? I, my men and the Batavian’s will remain here and we are going to fight. With a bit of luck, we shall delay Gaiseric long enough to allow you to make a clean escape. Hadrian must survive. You are his man. That is the only thing what matters. Gaiseric is after him and if he kills him, the treaty between us and the Vandals will be over and all my men will have lost their lives for nothing.’

  Adalwolf was staring at Fergus in stunned silence. Then abruptly he looked away and groaned in dismay.

  ‘So you trust me now, do you?,’ Adalwolf said in a strained voice.

  ‘Hadrian trusts you,’ Fergus replied. ‘And it’s his problem if he is wrong.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Adalwolf said shaking his head. ‘It’s a long journey. Things could go wrong.’

  ‘It makes sense,’ Fergus hissed, as he took a step towards Adalwolf, grasping him by the shoulder. ‘You know the way home and you can do this. You must do this.’

  Adalwolf hung his head and gazed down at the snow. Then wearily he nodded in agreement.

  ‘Fine, we will go tonight,’ he muttered refusing to look Fergus in the eye.

  ***

  It was night and snowflakes were slowly drifting down to the ground. In the bitter cold Fergus made his way along the perimeter, checking up on the sentries. Beyond the low wooden-palisade, the dark forest was quiet and peaceful. The men had done the best they could to erect crude barriers and obstacles in between the gaps in the low wooden-wall and they had also managed to scoop out the snowdrifts from the ditch that surrounded the small settlement. But there had been no more time to do anything else and the soldiers were already exhausted. As he slowly made his way around the perimeter, Fergus could see that the wooden-stakes, branches and debris were not going to hold back a determined assault. The settlement had not been built with that in purpose. But it was the best they could do with the resources and time they had. He had therefore decided that it was more important that the men got a good night’s rest around a fire and out of the icy-cold wind. Blowing on his frozen, fingers Fergus turned and strode towards the three huts where the men and beasts sat and stood huddled-together around their camp fires. Adalwolf had left a few hours earlier, taking Hadrian and four of the strongest horses with him. The Legate had been unconscious, suffering from a fever that his wound had brought on, when Fergus had helped lash him to one of the horses. Then with a quick farewell Adalwolf, accompanied by Hadrian’s two civilian advisers and a sledge filled with supplies, had galloped out of the settlement and into the night. And once the small party of horsemen had gone, Fergus had ordered that all Adalwolf’s tracks leading into the forest be carefully destroyed. The slaves to-a-man had elected to stay behind and share the fate of the soldiers, and although he admired their courage Fergus did not have any weapons to give to them. Instead the slaves had armed themselves with sticks and stones.

  In the hut, some of the men were fast asleep, curled up around the fire whilst others were awake, unable to sleep. Silently they turned to look at Fergus as he knelt and warmed his hands against the crackling fire. Catching sight of Titula sitting on the ground with her back against the wall Fergus smiled at her. The girl was awake and shivering with cold despite her large winter-cloak.

  ‘Sleep,’ Fergus muttered, quietly gazing at the slave girl. ‘Sleep, you are going to need your strength tomorrow, girl.’

  ***

  It was nearly noon when Fergus heard the barking of the dogs. He stood in the middle of the small square settlement without his shield or spear, which he’d given to a man who had no weapons. At his side stood the company’s signifier, clad in his wolfs-skin-head and holding up the proud company banner. The legionaries and Batavians, their armour glinting in the winter sunlight, were down on one knee in their positions along the perimeter facing the forest. The men’s large shields were resting against their bodies, and those who still had their spears were resting them on the tops of their shields. Not a man stirred or moved as the noise of the barking dogs drew closer. Calmly Fergus gazed into the forest from where the noise was rapidly coming closer. The men had had a good night’s rest and that morning he had allowed them a larger-than-usual ration of food. There was nothing more to do. They were ready. It was time. The enemy was nearly upon them.

  ‘If something happens to me,’ Fergus said, turning to the standard bearer, ’you are in command of the company. Titus’s last orders were to get the boys home. If the perimeter is overrun, you are to fall back on our last defensive position around the huts. Form two lines and use the huts to secure your flank. You should be able to hold them off like that for a while. And if all is lost it will be every man for himself. But only when all is lost, do you understand?’

  ‘Yes Sir,’ the signifer said, ashen faced.

  There was no more time for talk. Along the tree-line bordering the forest clearing armed men had appeared. Some of them were holding dogs on leads. Slowly the line of warriors emerging from the forest began to extend right around the clearing. The Vandals seemed in no hurry, as they stared at the Romans pinned down in the derelict settlement. From the forest, came harsh cries and the dogs barked and strained at their leads eager to leap forwards and close with their prey. As Fergus turned he saw the enemy were all around them. From the edge of the trees, the German warriors raised their shields and weapons in the air and cried out, their harsh taunting voices filling the forest with noise. Then Fergus caught sight of Gaiseric. The tall warrior was wearing a horned-helmet on his head and in his hands, he was clutching a battle-axe and a small, round shield. He was striding along the line of his men as the Germans filled the forest with screams, shouts, yells and insults in their preparations to assault the small, square settlement.

  ‘Standard bearer,’ Fer
gus cried out, ‘remember what I told you. If the perimeter is over run, fall back on the huts and make your final stand there.’

  Then Fergus started walking towards the flimsy barricades, and as he did his hand came to rest on the pommel of his sword.

  ‘What are you doing Sir?’ the signifer cried out in alarm.

  I am going to end this now,’ Fergus roared, his eyes fixed on Gaiseric. ‘This is going to end now. My men are not going to be slaughtered out here.’

  And before anyone could stop him Fergus clambered over the barricade, leapt over the ditch and stepped out into the snowy clearing and started towards Gaiseric.

  ‘This ends with us,’ Fergus cried out as he drew his sword and pointed it at Gaiseric. ‘You have come for Hadrian, to avenge an insult. That is what this is all about. But you shall not have him. Instead I challenge you to a duel, man to man, right here. If you want to avenge the insult against you, then fight me.’

  Along the tree line, Gaiseric had stopped and was staring at Fergus in silence. Then he took a step forwards and raised his axe in the air and around the edge of the clearing the noise started to die down. Gaiseric was staring at Fergus, his chest heaving with wild emotion and aggression.

  ‘Then to the death, Roman,’ Gaiseric roared, in his accented Latin, ‘if so I accept. Your men will soon see me raise your severed head in the air.’

  ‘I am here, what are you waiting for,’ Fergus roared, as he stood his ground.

  And as Fergus fell silent the settlement behind him suddenly erupted with loud shouts and roars as the legionaries and Batavians rose to their feet and grimly clashed their weapons together.

  ‘Twentieth, Twentieth, Twentieth.’ The roar rose.

  Contemptuously Gaiseric took another step towards Fergus and spat onto the ground. Then raising his small round shield, he went into a crouch, raising his axe in the air. Warily Fergus watched Gaiseric as he slowly approached. Then he reached for his pugio army-knife and pulled it from his belt so that he was holding both gladius and a knife in both hands. Around the forest and in the settlement, the noise abruptly died down as the two men began to carefully circle each other.

  And as Fergus watched his opponent, he reached up to touch Galena’s iron amulet hanging around his neck.

  Gaiseric was the first to attack. With a deft faint to his left, he suddenly leapt forwards and his axe came slicing through the air aimed at Fergus’s neck. Fergus stumbled backwards just in time and the axe cut through the air, inches from his face. Then he lunged forwards but the blade of his sword glanced harmlessly off Gaiseric’s shield. Along the edge of the forest the Germans roared in approval. Gaiseric hissed and spat into the snow as he once again swung his axe at Fergus. The attack was followed by a quick, low blow aimed at Fergus’s legs. Stumbling backwards, Fergus was suddenly aware that Gaiseric was driving him away from the settlement and towards his men lining the edge of the forest. The man was taller than him and his axe meant his reach was longer, but without a shield he would never be able to get close enough to use his sword. Gaiseric had him at a disadvantage.

  In an undignified manner Fergus turned and sprinted away around Gaiseric, and from the German ranks a holler of contemptuous laughter broke out. With his back to the settlement, Fergus turned to face Gaiseric once more. Gaiseric was studying him with an angry, contemptuous look as he slowly advanced towards him, swinging his axe confidently from side to side.

  ‘Why don’t you stop running Roman,’ he yelled, ‘stand still and fight like a man.’

  Fergus said nothing as he crouched waiting for the next attack. It came swiftly, as with a yell Gaiseric suddenly charged forwards, his axe once more slicing down towards Fergus’s neck. But this time instead of springing backwards, Fergus, judging his moment perfectly, leapt straight at Gaiseric his sword point hammering straight into the young warrior’s shield but the pugio, the knife in his left hand, found its mark, and with a vicious slicing-movement, Fergus tore a bloody line across Gaiseric’s chest. With a startled painful yelp, Gaiseric dropped his axe and staggered backwards as blood welled up through his clothes. Then he slipped and went tumbling helplessly onto his back in the snow. Fergus leapt forwards and raised his sword to finish off his opponent, but just then an outraged roar rose from the massed Vandal ranks along the edge of the forest. Fergus hesitated as he looked up. A spear came hurtling towards him, missing him by inches. Then the forest erupted as the Vandals came storming towards the settlement.

  There was no time to finish off Gaiseric. With a cry, Fergus turned and fled back towards the settlement. Behind him the thud of hundreds of feet chasing him through the snow, closed in. In the square settlement, the squad defending the section of barricades directly ahead of him, raised their spears into a throwing position as Fergus charged straight towards them with dozens and dozens of German warriors hot on his tail. At the last moment Fergus cried out and dived into the ditch as a volley of Roman spears went hurtling straight over his head and into the enemy ranks. Each spear seemed to find its mark and the German line disintegrated into wild shrieks as men went tumbling into the snow. Frantically Fergus clambered out of the ditch and flung himself over the makeshift barricades and into the snow beside his comrades. But there was no time to rest. The Germans had reached the perimeter and the whole settlement had become a moving, screaming, struggling mass of men, stabbing, hacking and pushing against each other. Leaping to his feet, Fergus had just enough time to see a big warrior come crashing through the barricades mowing down everything in his path with a heavy two-handed axe. Then with a roar the man flung up his arms and his axe went sailing high into the air as a Batavian rammed his sword into the warrior’s exposed back, sending him crashing to the ground.

  The outnumbered Roman defenders stood no chance in holding back the enemy assault and already Fergus could see that the men were being driven back from the palisade and the makeshift defences they had built in the night.

  Stooping to pick up an abandoned axe, Fergus slashed at a German who was clambering over the wall, sending the man falling backwards into the ditch.

  ‘Fall back to the huts,’ Fergus roared as he staggered down the thin Roman line, ‘Fall back on the huts, form a shield wall. Defend the standard!’

  The legionaries needed no further encouragement. Within seconds the men were streaming back towards the space between two huts, where the signifer stood holding up the company banner. Suddenly from the corner of his eye, Fergus caught sight of Titula rushing towards him. The girl’s face was pale with terror.

  ‘Get back, get back to the huts,’ Fergus screamed as he stumbled towards her. But the girl didn’t seem to understand, and as she reached him she grasped hold of his white winter-cloak.

  ‘Get back,’ Fergus cried out as a note of desperation entered his voice. Behind him the Vandal warriors were surging unopposed over the palisade and barricades. They would be upon him within seconds.

  ‘Here,’ Fergus screamed as he pushed his pugio knife into Titula’s hand and began to drag her through the snow towards the solid Roman shield wall that was rapidly forming in the space between two of the huts.

  But as he and Titula staggered towards the Roman line, Fergus could see that it was already too late. A party of Vandal warriors had already gotten in between him and the line of Roman shields. They were not going to make it. Desperately Fergus turned to look around for another way of escape but there was none. Smoke was rising from the roof of one of the huts, which had been set on fire. The snow-covered ground around him was littered with corpses, dark red blood-stains, discarded weapons and wounded men, trying to crawl away through the snow. They were trapped, cut off from the rest of the company. Behind him, Fergus suddenly heard a great savage roaring voice coming towards him, and as he turned he saw Gaiseric and a few of his men calmly striding towards him through the black smoke.

  Fergus’s eyes widened in horror as he and Titula stumbled backwards against the wall of one of the huts. Cut off from the rest of his company, the
y were not going to stand a chance. Fergus took a desperate step forwards and swung his axe at Gaiseric but the Vandal Prince evaded the blow with contemptuous ease. The man’s chest was covered in blood but he still looked capable of fighting. The men with him slowly started to fan out to either side, as they closed in on Fergus and Titula. With his back pressed against the wall, Fergus growled in frustration as he lunged here and there trying to keep the warriors at bay.

  ‘Where is Hadrian? Where is the Legate?’ Gaiseric roared as he raised his bloodied axe and pointed it at Fergus.

  ‘He’s with the standard,’ Fergus bellowed defiantly. ‘Like I said you shall not have him. So, fuck off.’

  ‘Brave words for a man who is about to die,’ Gaiseric roared.

  Then with a speed that took Fergus by surprise Gaiseric lunged and his axe caught Fergus a glancing blow on the side of his torso armour that knocked him to the ground in a howl of pain. Raising his axe in the air with a triumphant yell, Gaiseric was about to bring the weapon down on Fergus’s neck when, with a high-pitched scream Titula sprang forwards and buried her knife deep into Gaiseric’s neck. A fountain of blood went hurtling into the air and Gaiseric collapsed to the ground without making a sound and his axe tumbled from his lifeless fingers. Fergus grimacing in pain, tried to rise to his feet as the men around Gaiseric charged forwards with a furious, outraged roar. Titula did not stand a chance. As she stood staring down at Gaiseric’s corpse she was caught by spear that slammed her hard against the wall of the hut. Without making another sound her body crumpled into the snow. Furiously Fergus hammered his axe into one of the attacker’s legs sending the warrior tumbling onto his back. Then with growing fury Fergus staggered to his feet, evaded a clumsy spear-thrust and buried his axe into another man’s head, killing him instantly.

  ‘Gaiseric is dead,’ Fergus roared, his face stained with blood, his eyes bulging wildly as if he had gone mad. ‘The fight is over. The fight is over. Gaiseric is dead.’