Marius' Mules II: The Belgae (43 page)

“
What is it, sir?” a legionary asked. “I can’t see
anything.”

“
Belgae, lad. And lots of ‘em. Back in the woods, but getting
closer.”

He glanced
around at his men. The last stragglers, being hurried along by his
optio, arrived and collected their swords and shields, tipping the
piles of rocks off and to the ground.

“
Fall back at a slow march!”

The First
Century of the Twelfth Legion formed up in solid military fashion,
and began to step slowly back toward the defences, a couple of
hundred yards behind. As they passed from under the last foliage
and out into the open, the first of the Nervii burst forth from the
deep woodland. Behind him, Baculus could hear the cries to arms
going up around the camp. It could be that the Twelfth had seen the
century in full kit backing away from the trees, but it was much
more likely, given that a large group of Belgae were rushing
forward from these woods, that there were many more around the
battlefield. This could be trouble.

As they moved
carefully back across the open ground, a veritable sea of Celtic
warriors poured forth from the woods.

“
Double pace now, lads.”

As the unit
backed rapidly across the open ground, Baculus risked a moment to
glance around and take in the entire situation. They would make it
to the lines before the Nervii reached them, but only just. There
must be thousands upon thousands of the bastards in these woods, so
the camp construction would have to be abandoned. They couldn’t
hope for relief from the two Gaulish legions either… they wouldn’t
get here for a while yet. There’d be no help from the other four
legions or the cavalry either. From his good position on the slope,
Baculus could see the enemy pouring out of the woods opposite where
they’d keep Priscus and Grattius’ legions busy. And the cavalry had
gone. There were thousands more barbarians pouring down that slope
to cross the river and keep the other two legions busy. The Twelfth
were screwed; on their own.

A momentary
glance and he realised that one of the larger groups of Nervii were
making for the near end of the baggage train as they were being
settled at the top end of the incomplete camp. Nothing he could do
about that. Have to leave that to the Thirteenth and Fourteenth
when they arrived and hope there was some baggage left.

The Twelfth
had re-armed, but the units had become shuffled and mixed as the
men had worked hurriedly, taking any position where a task needed
to be done. Now they were rushing around trying to locate the
standards of their unit in the mass of men. Baculus growled and
took a deep breath, bellowing loud enough to be heard all along the
rampart.

“
Forget finding your own units. Fall in to the nearest standard
and form up!”

On the
embankment, he heard legate Galba echoing the command to the men.
Not a bad leader, the legate. A bit fanciful, as they all were, but
sensible and with enough brains to defer to his centurions when
need be. He was grateful, as the First Century finally neared the
Roman line, with thousands of screaming Nervii hot on their track,
that the legate had had enough foresight to open up a space in the
lines for Baculus and his men to fall into.

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.

Good job,
really, given how many of the bastards there were. Fronto glanced
around at the situation and shook his head, then turned to
Labienus.

“
We’ve got it best, really. There’s more of them heading for
the centre than here and the Twelfth’s on their own on the other
wing. I just hope the wagons get settled in quickly so that the
Thirteenth and Fourteenth can support us…”

His voice
tailed off.

“
The wagons.”

Labienus
shrugged.

“
They won’t be trying for the wagons. There’s no point at this
stage.”

Fronto shook
his head.

“
I know, but there’s more. Look!”

He pointed to
the higher end of the slope, where the wagons were arriving, now
hurrying as fast as they could to get into position in the camp,
safe behind the legions. Labienus followed his gaze and noticed
with dismay further groups of Belgae beyond the camp’s defences,
heading down toward the staging area where the wagons were
gathering at the planned south gate of the camp. The number of
warriors in that attack was smaller, but they were coming from both
sides and converging on the wagons, which were undefended and
behind the main fight.

“
What the hell are they doing? The wagons are immaterial right
now.”

Fronto shook
his head more irritably.

Clever little
sods aren’t after the wagons. They know that’s where the command
party was. Blood good job you all split up among the legions. You’d
all be dead before we could get to you.”

Labienus
nodded, staring.

“
How do they come up with such things? None of the other Belgae
seem to have been half as prepared.”

Fronto
growled.

“
Galronus said the Atrebates, the Aduatuci and the Nervii were
the ones to watch. He was bloody right.”