“Legionnaires! Prepare to receive enemy!” Regillus ordered. Along the embankment, legionnaires locked shields and braced themselves for the initial strike. The first Mongolians were maybe a dozen feet away now. Regillus drew his hand repeater and shot the closest, a bushy-bearded man waving his scimitar in the air. The short quarrel threw the man back onto his allies, where he disappeared into the crowd.
In quick succession, Regillus dispatched two other barbarians. In the end, he didn’t even have to aim, with his enemy packed so tightly together. The range rapidly closed and the officer was forced to discard his repeater in favor of his spatha. He swept out the long sword, cousin to the famous gladius of history, parrying a whirlwind assault by one of the first Mongolians over the wall. He slammed his shield into his attacker, then quickly stabbed his sword through the man’s exposed leg. The man collapsed, and a second slice cut off a startled cry.
Regillus pulled back into formation as the Roman line struggled to hold back the assault. The Mongolians attacked without any thought for their own protection, willingly sacrificing two or three men to pull down a legionary. Siege craze, Regillus thought, they have taken such a beating storming the breach they will stop at nothing to take it, and Antioch.
A sputtering sound drew his attention, and he nearly lost his head because of it. Ducking behind his shield at the last second, a barbarian’s sword stuck in the toughened wood and steel. Stabbing blindly, he heard a cry and felt his opponent fall away from him. Regillus jerked his eyes upwards, in time to see the return of the skimmers. They crested low over the breach, dropping their explosives right onto the enemy forces on the other side. A wave of heat blew back over defenders and attackers alike. The Romans cheered as each of the remaining skimmers followed the first over the stony breach to deposit their small explosives into the packed Mongolians, dealing horrendous damage. Although his vision was blocked by the press of bodies, Regillus could easily imagine the sheer carnage unfolding just beyond the breach.
He ordered his few reserves forward, hoping to take advantage of the sudden attack of the skimmers. For a while, they took back the entire improvised wall, recovering their wounded and dispatching enemy stragglers. His men even had time to get in hasty drinks from a salvaged water bucket. While they rested, Regillus paced the trench wall, checking on his men and giving a continuous stream of orders. The praefectus had one more ace up his sleeve, but he was hoping to save it until they had to retreat.
Where is that messenger?
It took a while, but the Mongolian forces soon resumed their push against the wall. With little defensive fire slowing them, they flowed up the slope and threw themselves at the defenders with renewed vigor. For their part, the legionnaires held in spite of such odds. Better armed and armored, they sliced through their lightly equipped opponents, until walls of corpses impeded their movement. Step by step, the Romans gave way, as the sheer press of Mongolians forced them to fall back. Regillus watched Etruscas go down, three Mongolians running him through with their spears. Crying out in anger, the general vented his anger by nearly decapitating the nearest enemy. The powerful stroke left him overextended, and it was only Roman discipline that saved him, as his line partner stepped in to block his open side from enemy reprisals.
“Hold the line, Men of Antioch! Defend your city!” Regillus urged his men onward, cutting down a Mongolian chieftain. The man’s leather jerkin was no match for the razor sharp tip of Regillus’ spatha. A cheer arose from his right, as the Mongolians finally forced their way through the Roman line, splitting the defenders in two. We’re dead. Regillus turned to order his signaler to blow Fighting Retreat, when another horn sounded, behind their lines.
Scrambling clear of the press of bodies, he clambered up onto the rear lip of the embankment. The sight brought tears of joy to his eyes.
We are saved. Thank the gods.
Trotting down the street came rank after rank of heavily armored cavalry — cataphractarii, by their armor and gear. As they neared the battle, they picked up speed, crashing into the few Mongolians who had managed to force the defenders apart. They surged up the rocky slope, their heavily armored mounts trampling enemy underfoot.
“Legate General! You are still alive!” came a shout over the tumult of battle. A figure wearing a beautifully exquisite set of steel armor, inlaid with gems and gold, rode up before him. He flipped up his full-face mask, itself delicately wrought from precious metal as well.
“Councilman Ioannes! My lord, where did you get these men? All our cavalry was slaughtered outside the walls!” Regillus asked, unable to keep the amazement from his voice. Already, the pressure on his lines was abating, as the defenders surged forward, their morale restored by the sudden turn of events.
“They are my own bucerelli, and here we are. A little late perhaps, but I hope you can forgive me for that. I wanted to ensure their talents were not wasted on wall duty,” he replied smugly. Regillus cracked a shallow smile at the merchant’s tight fisted attitude even during a siege.
“You’re forgiven… for now.”
The attack of the bucerelli had shocked the eager attackers. Caught right at the moment of their triumph, they had fallen back, stampeding over each other in a frantic attempt to escape the unstoppable bucerelli. It was now that Regillus gave the signal, waving the laborem, the Laurel standard, in a tight circle. In response, the men still manning the wall on both sides of the breach revealed their last trick. Large clay pots of Greek fire were pushed off the walls right onto the heads of the retreating Mongolians. They splashed down, splattering the densely packed men. The flames were unstoppable, and amongst the densely packed Mongolians, it was sheer murder.
Soon the entire breach was ablaze. Having planned for this, Regillus quickly evacuated his men, as well as the forces upon the wall. The engineers spiked their weapons and fell back, joining the legionnaires and Ioannes’ bucerelli on the long march west towards the citadel.
“Why do we not continue to defend the breach?” asked the merchant councilmember, riding his charger alongside the plodding legionnaires through the cobblestone streets. Regillus shook his head.
“There was no point. Without reinforcements, we simply could not continue to hold the breach. Any forces we would divert there would be unable to deal with any other attacks anywhere along the wall. And we would have to keep a large presence at the breach, even to deter the Mongols from striking.” He motioned to his men behind him.
“Of my starting 2,000 men, I’ve got less than five hundred remaining ready and able to fight. Another hundred wounded. Most of the wounded were trampled under foot or killed before we could pull them from the fight. And that battle lasted less than an hour. Almost 75 % casualties in an hour.” Regillus stated the facts coldly. Ioannes recoiled slightly.
“I guess I was lucky. I only lost a few back there. We should have taken more casualties charging through that debris field, but it seems providence guides us.” Ioannes made the sign of the cross over his armor. Regillus was surprised at the gesture. The councilmember was Christian, a rare event considering the preference given to followers of the Old Gods in positions of power throughout the empire. It spoke of Ioannes’ own prowess that he had risen so high in spite of his adherence to a minor, if persistent, religion.