Legionary

Chapter 66

‘Come on then, you whoresons!’ Gallus snarled as hot blood sprayed across his face. He ripped his spatha back from the chest of the Hun infantryman and kicked at his gut, sending the body toppling like a log onto the thick carpet of gore below the walls. His vision was sharp in the centre and blurred at the edges, his joints ached and his muscles felt numb from the relentless hacking and stabbing. But the delicate line of Roman defence had managed to hold on desperately; no Huns had established a bridgehead at the top of the thirty or so ladders that clawed at the battlements. ‘Don’t let a single one of these buggers breach us. Use every dirty trick in the book to keep ‘em out!’

He smashed his sword hilt into the nose of the next Hun who tried to head charge him in the gut. With a howl, the soldier stumbled onto the battlement and straight off the edge to plummet onto the flagstones inside the fort, where he was quickly despatched by the thin pocket of reserve auxiliaries. Gallus turned back to face his next opponent, his teeth grinding like rocks. But there was nobody there. The next Hun was only halfway up the ladder. He glanced around the foot of the wall — the Huns were thinning. ‘We’re doing it lads, keep it up!’ He squinted at the I Dacia who had withdrawn and waited near the edge of the plateau. ‘Don’t be shy,’ Gallus roared, wiping the blood from his sword flat then holding it up to catch the sun, ‘there’s plenty iron waiting for you over here!’ The legionaries of the XI Claudia, gasping and crimson coated, roared in appreciation. Then the ground started to rumble.

First, it was like a distant thunder clap, then like a storm directly overhead as all across the lip of the plateau the Hun cavalry washed forward.

‘We’ve not even dented ‘em,’ Zosimus moaned.

‘Stay firm, Zosimus,’ Gallus cut in. But his own heart plummeted; a few thousand infantry — the weakest Hun soldiers — had been mown down, but the legion were close to spent, just as the Huns were sending in the first wave of some seventeen thousand cavalry.

In a flash, the Hun cavalry had swept past the front of the fort to circle at the sides. At the same time, a fresh wave of a thousand infantry thundered towards the front walls. From the left of the fort, the twang of countless arrows being loosed rang out.

‘Shields!’ Gallus roared. The walls became a thin testudo, the legionaries crouching behind the parapet to protect their front. As he ducked down, he breathed a sigh of relief that the tinny rattle of arrowheads on shields far outweighed the gurgles of pain from those caught out. But almost immediately after the first volley had landed, the cavalry on the right unleashed another even thicker volley. This time the cries of pain were numerous.

‘Sir, their infantry — they’re almost at the walls!’ Zosimus yelled over the arrow hail as he lifted his shield to peek over the front parapet.

‘Covering fire, Zosimus, their cavalry are pinning us down, nullifying what little we have. How long do we have before their spearmen are on the ladders?’

Zosimus snatched another glance. He turned to Gallus, his face fallen. ‘Half a stadia, sir. And the I Dacia are coming too.’

‘If we stay pinned down like this we’re dead meat!’ Gallus could only feel the vibration of his chest as he growled, such was the din. He waited for the lull between arrow storms then punched up from the shield roof of the legionaries on the wall. He hammered his sword against his shield boss. ‘Clear those flanks!’ He roared across the din of battle. At the same time, the front ranks of Huns parted to allow the I Dacia a clear run at the walls with more ladders. Gallus turned to the auxiliary units; they were pinned near the back of the fort by the arrow hail and the catapults lay unmanned. He waited for the brief pause in the bombardment and then bellowed; ‘Catapults, blind fire to both sides of the fort — now!’ The auxiliaries lunged forward, scurrying around the three catapults, winding the ropes, turning the devices on their bases to face flank; two to the right and one to the left. Gallus ducked under his shield for the next rain of arrows, then darted up again as they slowed — the I Dacia ladders were resting on the walls. He glanced over the edge to see a swarm of Wulfric’s men scuttling up the ladders for the battlements. They had but an instant. ‘Come on, come on!’ Gallus cried, but the auxiliaries were faltering, several slain with the last bout of arrow fire. One skinny auxiliary, no more than a boy, heaved at the east-facing catapult all alone, until a wounded soldier came to his aid. It was finally shunted around to face the swarm of Huns on the eastern flank. The first of the I Dacia were only rungs from the wall tops. Gallus could hear their fingers scrabbling on the parapet when finally a voice cried out from the courtyard. ‘Ready, fire!’

‘To your feet,’ Gallus cried, ‘to your feet!’

With the twang of rope and bending timber, three heaving catapult volleys lurched over the fort walls and troughed their way through the packed Hun cavalry swarms, smashing men and horses alike like kindling. At the same time, the walls rippled to life with a battle cry, the squat testudo suddenly bristling into a solid line of sword points. They hacked into the first line of I Dacia as they attempted to hop onto the battlements. The next line was only a rung behind.

‘Fire plumbatae at will!’ Gallus cried. ‘Thin them out at the ground!’

A volley of plumbatae spat forth, toppling the I Dacia around the ladder bases. Then rocks were toppled onto them. It was a soup of iron and gore, but still the I Dacia were but dented, and the Hun cavalry were reforming for another pass.

‘And keep the catapults spitting!’

Gallus smashed his spatha into the face of the I Dacia legionary who dared raise his head over the ladder top. Hot blood sprayed the centurion, soaking him in a fresh layer of gore. ‘For the empire, men, for the empire!’ He gasped.