“How far are they?” Karus asked.
“Perhaps half a mile beyond that bend there.”
“Any idea on the enemy’s numbers?”
“Thousands, sir,” the legionary said. “I think more than an entire legion. It was a little confused.”
Karus had expected nothing different.
“Inform the legate that we stand ready,” Karus said. The trooper pulled his horse around, kicked hard, and galloped back the way he had come.
Eight junior centurions, including Artunus, the senior officer of the Eighth, made their way through the ranks of ordered men and joined Karus as the trooper disappeared back around the bend. All of them were muddied, with drawn faces. They also had a hard look to them that spoke of grit and determination. Each had proved himself over a long, hard service, and Karus knew he could rely upon these men.
“The enemy is that way,” Karus said, pointing around the bend. “The Fourth and Sixth are in contact. They are withdrawing toward us, at least a half mile away. We are to prepare for their arrival. Take these men here from the Third, break them up, and add them to the ranks of your respective centuries. Keep a tight hold upon them.” Karus paused and gestured at the hills on either side of the small valley.
“This is the perfect blocking position for us,” he continued in a firm voice. The nearest men in the first and second ranks of the Third were close enough that they could surely hear him, and he would be damned if he showed them any emotion other than a confident indifference to the legion’s circumstance. “We will extend our line up both hills here to make it as difficult as possible for the enemy to flank our position. Any additional centuries and cohorts that come forward will be slotted into line. Artunus, I want you to see to that.”
“Yes, sir,” Artunus said.
“Good, any questions?”
No one spoke up, but all looked grim.
“There will be no more running. We will stand and fight. Make sure your men know that if they break, there is no place to run to. We will fight our way out of here if need be, but we will do it together.” Karus paused to let that sink in. “Very good. Now, get these men moved.”
The centurions broke up and began barking orders at the Third. The formation quickly dissolved and started moving toward Karus’s scratch line. Feeling a little better, Karus turned and glanced back the way the trooper had disappeared. He was half tempted to follow around the bend for a look-see but then decided against such an action. He had his orders. More importantly, he had a job to do. Karus walked slowly back to his line as those of the Third melted into it.
First Cohort, his own, was just coming up. He could see the standard held proudly to the fore, battle honors fluttering in the breeze. With their arrival, he felt a definite sense of relief. These were men he had personally trained, all veterans who had survived numerous fights. They were his men, and he took pride in them.
Karus stopped just before the first rank of the line he had ordered formed. It was no longer scratch, but now had depth and a solid firmness to it that only a seasoned veteran could sense. The danger had passed.
The line had been expanded to stretch up each of the craggy slopes that hemmed in the miserable road. Karus studied the hill on his left flank. It was small, barely a hundred or so feet high. The line ran up nearly to the summit. He decided he would need to place at least an entire century upon the top of it, not only to see what the enemy was up to, but also to deny them an easy way of flanking his position.
To his right flank loomed the steep hill that had earlier drawn his attention. It was so large it could potentially be described as a small mountain. Sleet-gray clouds still obscured the top. As he studied the hill, the rain petered back to a slow, depressing drizzle.
The slope was choked with boulders and medium-sized rocks. Stunted vegetation sprouted up around the rocks. Should they wish to scale it, the hill would pose a more difficult challenge to the enemy, but not an impossible one. Karus blew out a slow, long breath. He had long since learned that underestimating one’s enemy could prove a fatal mistake. No matter the difficulty, he would have to ensure he secured its summit and, more importantly, retained control. A reliable man would have to take charge of that effort, and thankfully one was nearby. He looked around for another centurion for the smaller of the two hills.
“Pulmonus, Janus,” Karus called, “to me.”
Both men hurried over.
“Janus.” Karus pointed to the smaller of the two hills. “Take your century up to the top of that hill, secure it, and report back what you see. If you need assistance, don’t be shy. Ask for it.”
“Yes, sir,” Janus said and hustled off.
“Pulmonus.” Karus turned to the other officer, and both them looked up the steep slope of the larger hill. “Take your century and climb that beast. Let me know what’s on top. If you are able, send scouts to the other side. Find out what is there.”
“I will do it.”
“Very good.” Karus reached out and grabbed the younger officer’s arm as he made to leave. Pulmonus turned back to him, an eyebrow raised in question. “I will send you an additional century or two just as soon as I am able. You have overall command of the summit. Under no circumstances are you to give it over to the enemy. Make sure we hold it.” Karus paused as he thought on what he would say next. “We may need a defensive position for the legion as a whole. Give me an assessment on whether or not that hill will serve.”
Pulmonus looked at him for a long moment and then nodded gravely before turning away. A solitary flake of snow drifted lazily down amidst the drizzle. Karus rubbed the back of his neck as more flakes began to fall in place of the rain. He let out a long, unhappy breath and glanced up at the sky.
The gods never made anything easy.
A distant horn from the rear of the column snapped his head around. It was the call to arms. Though he wasn’t certain, he could guess what had happened. The enemy had hit them there as well. The legion was just too strung out.
Karus hustled through the waiting ranks of men to where he had placed Valens. He found the prefect sitting on a small rock, his helmet resting on a knee. Valens’s men had also dismounted and were resting, their horses tied to small stakes they had planted in the ground.
Valens stood as Karus approached. The snow began coming down heavier. The horn was blown again. It sounded farther away than just a moment ago. Snow had that effect, muffling sound.
“I need to know what is going on to the rear,” Karus told Valens curtly. “If the enemy has hit us there, I want the rearguard cohorts wherever practical to form a line, if they have not already done so, and stabilize our rear flank. They are to fall back toward our position. We will compact the legion as tightly as we can in this small valley. It is narrow and should make the job of holding much easier.”
“We do that and it will mean abandoning much of the supply train,” Valens pointed out.
“Yes, it will,” Karus said unhappily. He saw no other alternative. It was either that or allow the legion to be destroyed in detail. “Move as many of the wagons and carts up as we can, along with the mules. Priority is to be given to food.”
“What about the camp followers?” Valens asked.
“We have to protect them,” Karus said. “Take a squadron with you and leave the rest of your wing here. I want you to personally pass along my orders. That way, there can be no misunderstanding them. We have to keep the legion intact or we will lose everything.”
Valens put his helmet on, tying the straps tight as he turned to his men. “Sixth Squadron, mount up.”
Helmet secure, Valens grabbed the reins of his horse from a trooper and pulled himself up. He took a moment to settle himself. The animal appeared skittish, but the cavalry officer paid it no mind. He glanced down on Karus.
“I will send word on what I learn.” Valens turned and looked over Sixth Squadron, which had mounted and was ready. With his free hand he waved them forward, and the squadron set off at a trot, hoove
s kicking up flecks of mud.
Karus watched them go and felt a deep pang of unease. The legion was spread across several miles of shitty road. The enemy had struck to the front, and likely to the rear as well. Should they strike elsewhere, say the left or right flanks, they would be able to carve the legion up one chunk at a time. Karus’s stomach clenched at the thought. He prayed that he had time to salvage the situation before it grew worse. Julionus had really screwed them something good.
He turned back to his line. The men were standing loosely in formation, their shields resting on the ground. Karus did a rough estimate and figured he had at least a thousand men blocking the small valley in ranks nearly six deep. Securing his left and right flanks behind the line was now the priority. First Cohort was still coming up, and only a few yards away. He decided to use them to provide a rough close-in screen, stretching back down the road for a few hundred yards.
One of his centurions, Ajax, spotted Karus and broke ranks. He came jogging up, Pammon at his side. Mud-spattered, they looked a sorry sight, but also a comforting one.
“There is no time to fully explain,” Karus said without preamble, feeling the urgency to attend to his flanks. “We are going to bring the legion up into this small valley. I want the First to secure both flanks along each side of the road. Push out and up the slopes to the crests, going back a few hundred yards. I need our flanks covered before the enemy discovers where we are weak. Place half of our centuries on the left and the other half on the right.” Karus pointed where he wanted them. “I intend for the Second to reinforce you just as soon as they come up.”
“Got it,” Pammon said.
Ajax and Pammon turned and trotted back to the cohort, armor chinking. Within moments, they had the First redeploying by centuries.
There was movement behind his cohort. Karus stood on his toes. He could see another formation coming up. He squinted and recognized the Second’s standard. Karus was now bringing enough men on-line to give the enemy some serious pause for thought. If only he had some artillery. Sadly, much of the heavy stuff had been left behind, on the orders of the legate. What they did have was far to the rear and would be of no immediate use. After a moment, he gave a mental shrug. There was no reason to cry over spilt wine.
Thinking about Julionus got Karus wondering how the Fourth and Sixth Cohorts were doing. He heard armor jangling and saw Dio jogging up. The Second was still some ways off.
“What’s up?” Dio asked, a little out of breath.
“The front of the column got hit hard. Third Cohort broke. I’ve managed to reform them and fit them in with the Eighth. The Fourth and the Sixth are fighting their way back to us.”
“What of the rear? I heard the call to arms.”
“No word yet,” Karus said. “But it seems likely they were hit as well. I’ve sent Valens back with a squadron to find out.”
“He was in a hurry,” Dio said, still breathing heavily, and then took a moment to glance around at the slopes. “You know … this is a great spot to bottle us up.”
“That goes both ways,” Karus said.
Dio turned to him with a questioning frown.
Karus raised an eyebrow and continued. “They have to come to us if they want us badly enough. We control what little level ground there is, limiting their ability to effectively strike at multiple points simultaneously. The ground around our position is difficult, rugged, and defensible. We, on the other hand, have the good ground and, once established, can easily use our interior lines to move reserves to trouble spots.”
“Any idea on the enemy’s numbers?” Dio asked.
Karus shrugged. Though the report the cavalry trooper had delivered suggested the enemy greatly outnumbered the legion, Karus knew when under pressure men could easily inflate the true size of the enemy. That said, Karus figured it was likely the enemy outnumbered the legion badly, but he was not about to speculate on what he did not know for certain. He was a legionary officer, a hard-bitten veteran from hundreds of fights, and he was not about to give in to a bunch of hairy-assed barbarians. Regardless of the enemy’s numbers, Karus intended to make the Celts pay dearly for the Roman blood they would spill this day.
Dio took a deep breath and then looked behind at First Cohort, which had broken up by centuries. They were now moving down the line and up the slopes to secure the flanks. “I am guessing you want my cohort to extend the flanking lines that the First are now setting up?”
“I do,” Karus said.
“I will get right on that,” Dio said. He was about to go, but then stopped. “Do you think Felix is all right?”
“I hope so,” Karus said, thinking on the ordeal Fourth and Sixth Cohorts were going through just a short way up the road.
“Make sure you take care of yourself, Karus.”
“You do the same,” Karus said to his friend.
As Dio stepped away, a shout drew Karus’s attention. A legionary was running down the small hill where Karus had dispatched Janus’s century.
“Sir,” the legionary said excitedly, “the enemy—”
“Where is your salute?” Karus demanded, poking him in the chest armor. The legionary was young and likely had been one of the fresh recruits that had arrived toward the end of the winter.
The legionary blinked, drew himself up into a position of attention, and saluted.
“Now,” Karus said, regretting having left his vine cane with the baggage train. “Kindly give me your report.”
“The enemy is in sight,” the legionary said. “We can see them from the hilltop there. They are swarming around our boys. Centurion Janus reports that both cohorts have formed a defensive square and are moving in our direction at a steady pace. The square’s lines are solid and holding. He told me to make sure I told you that, sir.”
“How many of the enemy?”
“He says he estimates their number to be near ten thousand.”
Karus closed his eyes for a moment. The legion with her auxiliary cohorts numbered near thirteen thousand, and the enemy was likely striking the rear of the column as well.
“How about along our flank, on the other side of the hill? Any enemy spotted there?”
“No, sir,” the legionary said. “Just to our front.”
“How far away are they?”
“At their current pace,” the legionary thought a moment before responding, “less than a quarter mile, sir.”
“Advise your centurion to keep an eye out should the enemy attempt to flank us. I want to know the moment they attempt that.”
“Yes, sir,” the legionary said and saluted before jogging back the way he had come.
Karus moved up to the line. The men were standing loosely in formation, the bottom of their shields resting on the ground. There was talking in the ranks, but the atmosphere was subdued and tense. Karus pushed his way through to the front and called the centurions of the Eighth to him. Once they were all present, he had them gather around. He could hear the fighting now, and with each passing moment, it appeared to get louder.
“Fourth and Sixth Cohorts are hard-pressed right around that bend,” Karus informed them. “They are moving back toward us and should be here shortly. We are going to let them through our ranks and then hold the line.”
Karus paused to look around the gathered officers.
“We cannot allow our line to break,” Karus told them. “We stick it to them. We bleed them good.”
“What about the rear of the column, and the followers?” Centurion Ganarus asked. Karus read genuine concern in the man’s eyes. Ganarus had a family and had been permitted by the previous legate to officially marry. His wife was good enough, but the kids were an ill-disciplined lot.
“I’ve sent Valens back with orders,” Karus said. “We have to concern ourselves with what is coming down the road toward us first. Let me worry about the rear and the followers. Understand me?”
There were nods all around. Ganarus gave a nod also.
“Good, then get back
to your men.” Karus watched as the centurions of the Eighth stepped away.
The distinct thundering of hooves against the ground drew his attention. Karus turned to see the cavalry trooper riding hard back toward them. He was pursued closely by five enemies on horseback, carrying an assortment of swords and spears. The enemy wore heavy furs and animal skins over their armor. Karus had learned long ago that the wealthiest of the enemy, typically their nobles, were the only ones who could afford horses and the expensive furs.
“You men,” Karus ordered to the nearest, pointing at those he wanted. “Ready javelins.”
A dozen men stepped forward a pace to make room and prepare for a toss, drawing the deadly weapons back and aiming. Each had drilled countless hours with the javelin to develop a deadly proficiency, and it was this skill Karus was counting on to make an exceptionally difficult toss successful.
“Make sure you do not hit our man.”
Karus raised his hand and held it there as the trooper, desperate to escape his pursuers, leaned forward in the saddle and dug his heels in for all he was worth. A well-thrown spear sailed within inches of his head. Karus saw the trooper glance behind him for a fraction of a second and could well imagine his thoughts.
The distance closed, twenty yards, then fifteen. Karus waited, hand held up. He needed to time this toss just right. When the trooper was ten yards away, Karus dropped his arm.
“Release!”
With grunts of effort, twelve javelins arced up into the air, sailed over the head of the trooper and into the midst of the pursuing horsemen. A horse screamed as one of the heavy weapons pierced its neck. An incredible spray of blood shot up into the air as the animal tumbled to the mud, violently spilling its rider. Another javelin took one of the pursuers in the shoulder, and the rider fell backwards out of the saddle. The others hastily reined in, dragged their horses around, and kicked them savagely away in the direction they had just come, hooves pounding.
Lost Legio IX: The Karus Saga Page 10
