He could almost smell the breath of the fetid bastards as he reached the embankment and rejoined the Roman line. He cursed for a moment. He’d been so damn busy making sure his men were prepared, re-armed and observed military etiquette, that he’d not had time to find his own sword and shield. Idiot. They were lying in the eaves of the wood back there.
With a growl, he looked down at his hands and frowned. He gave the vine staff an experimental swish, shook his head sadly, and threw it on the ground, hefting the heavy dolabra in both hands, trying to decide whether the Nervii would enjoy the pointed side or the wedged blade side most.
And suddenly the Nervii were on them. They travelled with more speed than the Roman legions, most of them unencumbered by armour and, a surprising number, even by clothes. Jabbing with long spears or swinging large blades, they rushed the shield wall of the Twelfth.
“Hold the line!” Baculus yelled.
Suddenly the world around him exploded into action and noise, Nervian warriors stabbing and hacking, trying to land killing blows between and around the shields of the defenders, while the legionaries, fighting alongside men they hardly knew from other units under unfamiliar standards, held the line like the consummate professionals they were.
Suddenly, in a series of events that lasted mere seconds, the attacking mass of the Nervii opened up just to Baculus’ left and, in the narrow space this afforded, a naked man, armed with two wicked looking knives ran forward and leapt onto the legionary to his left. The barbarian was dead moments after he landed and before even the gap in the Nervii had closed, but his plan had already worked. Though the legionary who was the target of his insane attack dispatched the blue-painted warrior as he scrabbled at the shield, the man had driven his two blades deep into the leather and wood and, as he died, still gripping the knives, the sheer weight of the body tore the shield from the soldier’s grasp.
This gap in the wall became the sudden focus of dozens of Nervian warriors, who leapt into the fray, trying to kill the man and, more particularly, the centurion next to him. Spears jabbed and blades flashed as the legionary desperately tried to turn the attacking weapons aside with his sword. A spear thrust caught him in the shoulder and pushed him back. Baculus growled once again.
“Reform the line!”
As his order was carried out, the wounded man being hauled back through the line and the second row of men inching forward to try and reform the wall, Baculus stepped out in front of his men. The sheer audacity of the move, walking out from the defensive line without even a shield or sword, took the Nervii by surprise enough that a small circle opened up round him.
“Right, you fatherless sons of whores… who’s first?”
A laugh went up behind him as the line solidified and the wounded man was removed from combat during the brief pause in fighting afforded by Baculus’ surprising act. The Nervii jostled for position, all tensing ready to attack this madman, but none of them quite willing to be the first to try.
Baculus grinned and hefted his dolabra.
“My turn, then.”
Lifting the heavy multi-purpose tool above his left shoulder, he gave it an almighty swing, blade-edge first. The close press of the Belgae meant that none of them had time to duck back out of the way and the powerful swing smashed through arms, faces and weapons in a complete arc, Baculus being almost unable to stop the weapon, such was the momentum.
A noise went up through the warriors that was half groan of dismay and half howl of fury. Six barbarians collapsed in the front row, clutching broken wrists or hands or dead on their feet with shattered skulls.
Baculus had expected them now to close in and take him but, to his astonishment, the circle around him widened. That wouldn’t last long though, and he was an easy target out here at the front. Sure enough, the mood among the enemy changed rapidly and a spear thrust from the crowd caused him to lurch to one side or risk a head wound.
“That the best you’ve got?”
He raised the dolabra over his right shoulder to swing and the warriors pressed back again away from this insane Roman. He let loose and took another swipe with the edge of the weapon, this time extending his arm as far as he could. The tool curved round in a wide, unstoppable arc, smashing more heads and limbs. A roar went up from the enemy and finally they pressed forward to kill him, trampling the latest half dozen victims who were still collapsing.
A sword thrust pierced his side below the armpit and he winced for a moment as the iron pushed through his muscle and grated along his ribs. With a growl, he let the dolabra drop and grasped the hilt of the blade, wrenching it back out of his flesh. The warrior whose sword it was blinked in surprise as the apparently immortal Roman officer pulled the hilt from his hand and, with an almost negligent flick cast the heavy blade vertically into the air, catching it by the handle as it swung around and then hefting it professionally, backing away from the thrusting spears towards the line of his men.
With a grin of malice, he swung the great blade, taking out two more of the Nervii, as the shield wall behind him opened up and he was pulled back into the safety of the legion. Every time he took a deep, ragged breath, the pain in his ribs ripped through him like fire and he struggled for a moment to deliver commands before giving up and allowing the men to ferry him through the lines to the rear.
Legate Galba shook his head in wonder as the optio in the rear line helped the wounded centurion from the mass of men and then turned back to his work. There was a huge rent in the chainmail and leather armour at the man’s side and gouts of blood were issuing from it.
“Centurion Baculus, I don’t know whether to congratulate you or have your mind looked at. That was unbelievable.”
Baculus grunted.
“It’s like fighting a bunch of girls, sir.”
He turned and looked up and down the line. The Twelfth was holding well, but the pressure was increasing and the numbers of the enemy were a little discouraging from this vantage point on the slope.
“I see there’s some trouble up by the standard of the Firth Cohort. Regards, sir, and I’ll be off.”
Galba stared at him.
“You’re bleeding to death, Baculus. You’re done for now… get to the surgeon.”
“Bugger the surgeon, sir.”
With a salute and without waiting for Galba’s flapping mouth to make a sound, the primus pilus turned and strode off toward the wavering standard, pausing further down to collect a sword and shield that lay unclaimed on the grass. Galba shook his head and beckoned to one of the Capsarii who waited at the rear to deal with minor wounds.
“Follow the centurion and when he stands still long enough, stitch that wound of his up. He might not stop, but I’d like to stop him bleeding to death in the meantime.”
The capsarius saluted and ran off after Baculus.
Galba frowned and shook his head yet again. This was starting to look a little dangerous. He could only hope the other legions were bearing up as well as his own, or better. He scanned the lines for his commander and spotted Caesar alongside Cicero and Pedius, remaining back from the line of combat and in deep conversation. For a moment he considered joining them, but truly, he had his own problems.
* * * * *
Fronto watched the screaming tribesmen running from the eaves of the wood to the west. He’d been quite lucky really. He’d been in a position to view the disaster that had befallen Varus and the cavalry on the north bank and, the very moment he saw the Belgae pouring out of those woods and down toward the river and the working legions opposite, he’d known damn well there would be more on this side waiting to close the trap.
He’d run back to the wall, yelling ‘to arms’, much to the surprise of the other officers of both the Tenth and the Ninth. Soldiers were retrieving weapons and shields before their centurions could issue further commands and, by the time the first warrior had left the shelter of the trees, the Ninth and Tenth were formed up on the partially constructed rampart, fully equipped and ready in a shield wall.