Legionary

by Hector Miller

  All along our line the barbarian cavalry attacked. We were the only cohort which was fully prepared. The front rank kneeled and grounded their shields and protruded their pilum from between the shields. The second rank placed their shield on top of the grounded shields with their pilum protruding in a similar fashion. The third cohort presented a solid wall of shield and pilum all along the line.

  No horse, not even heavy cavalry, will run into a solid wall, especially one with spears protruding from it. At thirty paces out, Hostilius yelled: “Third rank, release pilum.” One hundred and fifty pilum were launched at the seventy odd Scythians who were attacking the third cohort. Most of the pilums just bounced off their nearly impenetrable armour, but at least three found the lower, unprotected leg of a horse or some obscure opening in the armour, causing horse and rider to go down in a tumble of limbs. The Scythians attacking the third cohort wheeled away at the last moment and disappeared into the greenery from which they had emerged heartbeats ago.

  We saw the devastation all along the line where groups of Scythians attacked. Legionaries lay prostrate, impaled by heavy spears. Some were dead, some seriously wounded.

  Due to Hostilius’s warning, the emperor’s bodyguard was on high alert and he was unharmed.

  The Scythian heavy cavalry had vanished as quickly as they had appeared.

  I lowered my shield and stood at ease. Felix asked me within earshot of Hostilius: “Why do you seem so relaxed, they could sally against us again. Be on your guard!”

  “No Felix, they will not attack again. Their horses will be spent. They had waited for us in ambush for a long time and they charged a considerable distance.”

  Hostilius heard my conversation with Felix and yelled down the line: “Cohort at ease.”

  Everywhere legionaries grounded their shields and drank from water skins.

  Our cohort had taken no casualties. I took my water skin and drank deeply.

  I could not help noticing the dead Scythian and crippled horse that lay ten paces from me. I extended my arm and said: “Permission to loot, Centurion?”

  He eyed me warily and said: “Granted, but only you and make it quick.”

  Felix held my shield and pilum and I stepped out of line. The Scythian wore heavy gold chains and a torque of gold around his neck. I reached out and took his undamaged bow from his saddle bag as well as spare strings and two full quivers.

  Hostilius looked at me intently and shook his head from side to side: “You truly are a strange one.”

  He then strolled forward and removed the gold from the corpse.

  Chapter 6 – First camp

  The army was in no condition to continue marching and the order reached us that the emperor had made the decision to construct a camp as soon as possible.

  Every legion had a corps of engineers who specialised in identifying suitable sites for the construction of a marching camp.

  Once the officers gave their blessing, they marked out the camp with stakes and chalk. Only then did the legionaries move in to do the work.

  Even when you are not tired from a fight and a long march, digging a ditch and building a rampart is brutal work. Our cohort was assigned to a section of the ditch and rampart. The emperor ordered the ditch to be five feet wide, rather than the standard three feet. We worked for at least four hours. We lined the top outer edge of the completed rampart with the wooden stakes we carried as part of our baggage. Due to our involvement in the construction we would be excused from sentry duty during the night.

  Hostilius supervised the work and now and again laid into shirkers with his vine cane.

  When we were done, the centurion walked over to me and threw me a bundle of clean clothing. “Go and clean yourself up in the stream, legionary, and wear this. Take off your armour and leave it with me. My body slave will take care of it. We have an audience with the emperor.”

  I washed in the stream and donned the clean clothing as ordered. Hostilius sent for me and his body slave assisted me to strap on the shining armour.

  We walked down the Via Principalis to the Praetorium, the tent of the emperor.

  Hostilius announced us to the guards outside the tent and they ushered us into the presence of the great man.

  The tent must have been specially made for him, was my first thought. Maximinus was a huge brute of a man. He was standing next to a map, deep in discussion with his commanding officers.

  As we entered, Hostillius and I both came to attention.

  The emperor walked in our direction and said: “At ease.”

  He waved his secretary over, who handed him two purses.

  He walked over to Hostilius and said: “Centurion. This is a reward for saving my life.” I later learned it contained the value of fifteen thousand denari, the equivalent of three years pay. “I am a soldier and soldiers want money, not praise. Do you agree, Centurion?”

  “I agree, Imperator”, Hostilius said, maybe too loudly.

  The Thracian clasped his arm and said: “I will give you praise anyway. Well done Centurion.”

  He abruptly turned to me and handed me a smaller purse. His intelligent eyes studying me intently. Then he surprised me by speaking in near fluent Scythian: “Who was the barbarian, your mother or father?”

  “My mother”, I replied in Scythian.

  “From which tribe?”

  “The Roxolani.”

  He nodded and added: “They are a noble people, and don’t be concerned, none of these educated men are able to understand a word of what we are saying.”

  He clasped my arm in his huge hands and I could feel his godlike strength.

  He kept holding my arm and continued in Scythian: “I will be keeping my eye on you. Thank you for doing your duty to your emperor, soldier.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Hostilius and I both saluted and left.

  We walked back to the tent and I could see him weighing the bag in his hand.

  He finally asked: “What did he tell you?”

  I said: “He told me that you would ask me, but forbade me to ever tell anyone.”

  Hostilius scowled and shook his head, slapped me on the back and walked to his tent.

  Chapter 7 – Lussonium

  I unstrapped my armour and made myself comfortable next to the cooking fire.

  The rest of the contubernium knew where I had been and all waited wide-eyed for me to share my experience.

  I stared into the fire and stirred the coals, apparently deep in thought.

  Ursa couldn’t contain his curiosity and said: “Are you going to share it with us or just sit there like a mute.” He seemed to realise what he had said and turned to Silentus: “Sorry, no offence.”

  I took out the purse which contained two hundred gold aurei.

  I placed five gold coins on the ground in front of me. Most of these men would never even have handled a gold coin. I now had their undivided attention. They stared at the gold as if mesmerized.

  Slowly, coin by coin, I stacked each heap until there were five heaps containing thirty gold coins each.

  “The answer is yes”, I said, looking up at Ursa, as I handed him his thirty gold aurei. “I will share it with you.”

  One by one, I handed each of my friends his share of the bounty.

  They just sat there speechless, clutching the coins. Thirty aurei represented two years pay after deductions for equipment and the funeral fund.

  Ursa again spoke first: “So, what did he say?”

  “He said that if I ever have any shit with my contubernium, he will come here in person and sort you out!”

  It took a heartbeat or two for Ursa to digest the information, then he slapped me on the back and burst out laughing, followed by the rest of the contubernium. Even Silentus joined in.

  We did not strike camp the next morning. Our centurion informed us that the Legio II Adiutrix would be joining with us during the day. They had set out from Aquincum in the north at the same time that we had departed from Sirmium.
/>
  The barbarian incursion was more significant than originally thought.

  Allow me to digress. Hostilius spoke about the invasion of the Scythians. Some referred to them as Sarmations or even the tribes by name. The Romans tend to refer to the barbarians with reference to where they lived, not necessarily their tribal origins.

  My views had always been different. The Germanic people tend to be sedentary, most of the time. They cultivate the earth and own livestock. They move from place to place, but much less frequently than the nomadic tribes. They own horses, but do not live on them. They mainly fight on foot, using spears and swords.

  The Scythians are nomads. People of the horse. They do not cultivate the earth, but move around in their mobile tents following huge herds of horses, cattle and sheep. They have a horse warrior culture, fighting mounted with the bow or using heavy shock cavalry armed with spears. I will not go into the difference between Scythians and Sarmatians. For practical reasons, assume they are more or less the same.

  The Huns, which I know well, live far to the east. They are similar to Scythians, although they are hardier, less civilised and fiercer and are influenced by the Eastern culture.

  The Goths, who are a Germanic people, are migrating south west into the lands of many Scythian tribes. They either assimilated these tribes or asserted some or other form of hegemony over them. The free Dacians and the Yazyges, to name but a few, are examples. As you well know, I was there when they tried to subdue the Roxolani.

  In any event, although the Romans saw it as an alliance of Scythian tribes, I knew it was the despicable oath breaking Goths that were pulling the strings. They needed the skills of the fast moving Scythian cavalry to strike deep into Roman territory. The Goths had heard of the riches of the Empire and they would come to take it. They also knew that should they not keep migrating west, the terrible Hun hordes would eventually come in contact with them.

  The Yazyges who attacked us cleverly killed the cavalry scouts prior to executing the ambush. At least one hundred and fifty legionaries would not fight again on this campaign, either due to death or serious wounds.

  The legion we were waiting for arrived in the afternoon. We later heard that they were also ambushed by the barbarians in a very similar way and had lost eighty legionaries.

  The following morning we struck camp and filled in the ditches. We were eager to avenge our fallen comrades and the three legions set off to hunt down the invading barbarians.

  We were told that the barbarians had taken advantage of the freezing weather and had crossed the frozen Danube at Lussonium, an auxiliary fort with a civilian settlement next to it. As most of the auxiliaries were currently redeployed on the Agri Decumates against the Germanic tribes, only four centuries manned the fort.

  We were not told what had happened at Lussonium. Everyone had been killed. The auxiliaries, the townspeople, including women and children. Even the dogs.

  It was horrific to behold. The bodies had been lying outside for a couple of days, but due to the cold, decay had not set in yet.

  We constructed a camp and on the orders of the emperor, we immediately proceeded to bury the dead.

  Our cohort was fortunate enough to be tasked with digging a mass grave in the frozen earth. I say fortunate, because some had to load the bodies onto wagons and drag them to their eternal destination once we had finished the digging. No one complained about the back breaking work.

  The invaders did not set Lussonium to the torch as was their way. The smoke would have been visible for miles and would have revealed their location to the legions.

  Frustratingly we stayed in camp the next morning. Hostilius arrived with the explanation. “The scouts determined that the barbarians had crossed back over the Danube. They raided farms and settlements, murdered and pillaged and ran away like the cowards they are.”

  My gaze drifted over his shoulder as he was updating his century. A thick column of black smoke appeared on the horizon.

  I pointed and Hostilius spun around to have a look. “Bastards”, he hissed. “Bastards. That’s due south of us. Alta Ripa is under attack, mark my words.”

  Alta Ripa was a Roman fort, garrisoned by auxiliaries from Africa. Mainly Berber cavalry and some light infantry.

  We were not the only ones who noticed and soon we heard the sound of cavalry leaving the fort.

  Felix said: “The officers are sending out cavalry to scout. They suspect a trap.”

  Felix had hardly finished speaking when Pumilio said: “Look, its burnin’ all over”, as he motioned with his head in the direction of a column of black smoke rising over the northern horizon.

  A group of cavalry left the fort and headed north, bound for the fort at Annamatia.

  Hostilius summoned me soon after, a heavy frown etched on his face.

  “I have just returned from the office of the head tribune of the legion. He relayed a direct order from the emperor. The Thracian wants me and you to scout to the north of us. We are not to scout on horseback, but on foot.”

  He scowled and said: “Our leader seems to have taken a liking to you.” He paused and added: “The emperor awards success, but do not be fooled. He does not suffer failures. We have been forced into a dangerous game and the stakes are high.”

  We left the camp as part of a team of sappers tasked to collect firewood.

  As soon as we found a suitable spot, the sappers began to chop down dead trees. Hostilius and I dressed for the occasion. It was bitterly cold and we would not survive if we were not protected against the elements.

  On our legs we wore full length braccae made from goat pelts. The fur was worn on the inside. We pulled on thick woollen socks and leather legionary boots.

  Although it was a scouting mission, I wore my own high quality lorica hamata over my felt undergarment. Over this I wore a long sleeved loose fitting tunic that reached to my knees. It was made from sheepskin with fur on the inside.

  For camouflage and additional warmth, we each carried long rolled up hooded cloaks made from the fur of marmots. I selected these cloaks as I knew of their effectiveness from my time living with the Huns.

  Although it was not a military issue weapon, I persuaded Hostilius to let me take my looted Yazyges bow. I think that he wanted to see whether I could use it. In addition I only carried my gladius. Hostilius took his gladius as well as a pilum. We carried five days of dry rations as a cooking fire was not ideal on a scouting mission.

  It was early afternoon and we had at least a watch left to put some distance between us and the camp.

  Hostilius called me in close and whispered: “I will lead. Keep the gap between us at twenty paces and do as I do. That way you will stay alive.”

  I nodded in obedience and did as I was told.

  The Roxolani are excellent scouts. I hunted with them and the best of their huntsmen taught me the tricks of the trade. The Huns are better. It is difficult to explain why. They employ the same techniques and have much the same knowledge, but it is as if they are animals.

  They use their sense of smell and hearing to a higher degree. They feel the vibrations of cavalry. Maybe they are just more in tune with their surroundings?

  They are intensely aware of the normal sounds of their surroundings and alert to small changes.

  We were walking on a path used by deer and wild boar when I noticed a minute change in the sounds. A strange bird added its call to the normal background twitter. It could have just been that I was not familiar with the area, but it was not dissimilar from my farm close to Sirmium, where I had honed my skills.

  A slight breeze was blowing into my face and I sniffed the air as I was taught.

  I moved off the path into the undergrowth when I picked up the unmistakeable smell of unwashed human. My bow was strung and hung over my shoulder. I had wisely spent my time around the cooking fire during the last days to file down some of the arrowheads to create armour piercing needle point arrows. Instinctively I nocked a needle point arrow, holding three m
ore in my draw hand.

  I moved through the shrubby undergrowth silently, keeping pace with Hostilius who was still on the game path, oblivious to the danger.

  The huge Goth burst from the undergrowth five paces behind Hostilius, drawing back his spear arm to impale the centurion at short range. He shouted some unintelligible words in Germanic. Something about a pig and blood.

  I had been told many times never to waste precious arrows, but in this situation I had to be sure. The first needle point arrow entered the back of his skull, while the second pierced his heart. The big Goth’s momentum took him into the wide eyed Hostilius who was caught halfway in the turn and they both went to ground. This probably saved the centurion’s life. The Gothic war axe had a long shaft and the second attacker used both hands to accelerate the razor sharp broad iron head in a head high horizontal arc. He intended to take Hostilius’s head with a single blow, but the blade only cleft the air. As he stumbled forward, wrong footed by the blow, I released three arrows. Two needle point arrows entered his chest and a broad bladed hunting arrow sliced into the arteries in his neck.

  My teachers would have been appalled at the wasteful use of arrows.

  But I knew they could be retrieved.

  Both attackers had landed on top of Hostilius, who was still visibly shaken, although he tried to hide it.

  The attackers were dead. I walked over to the Goths and took their scalps, using the proven Hunnic method.

  Hostilius was still just staring at me and the bloody scalps in my left hand.

  “Don’t be alarmed Centurion. I won’t keep it. This is just to confuse them”, I said casually and retrieved my pack from the undergrowth.

  He refrained from speaking for some time, but used a piece of the barbarian’s clothing to wipe the blood and gore from his tunic.

  He looked me in the eyes and said: “When the tribune relayed the orders of the emperor to me, he told me that he is sending you with me to keep me alive. I assumed that he was jesting.”