The answer came with probably no more than a few normal heartbeats' of time left before one of us in the front line failed and caused a breach. Instead of disaster, it was one of those accidental events which, now with my experience in hundreds of battles and skirmishes, has as much to do with deciding the outcome as the tactics and strategy of the generals. The man pushing against Vibius, who looked no older than we were, had been trying to poke Vibius with what appeared to be nothing more than a sharpened stick, thrusting it over the top of Vibius’ shield as Vibius hunched behind it, dodging every jab. Finally in frustration, the man dropped the stick to grab the top of Vibius’ shield with both hands, giving a mighty yank, and succeeded in pulling it almost out of Vibius’ grasp, exposing my best friend to the warriors surrounding him. Feeling a roar of rage burst from my throat as I saw Vibius about to die and finding a strength I did not know I had, I threw the man facing me off with a huge push, staggering him backwards into his comrades, causing a ripple as the men pushing him from behind were knocked backwards as well. Turning my body, I brought my sword up to strike out at the men threatening Vibius, yet before I could there was a blur of movement as the man to Vibius’ left also saw him in trouble and used the opening created to strike a blow on his own. His blade entered the neck of the man who dropped the stick and was still holding onto Vibius’ shield, blood spraying us as the blade was withdrawn just as quickly as it struck. I could not see who was next to Vibius; I reminded myself to find out and thank him later, but Vibius was not out of danger yet as another warrior, this one better armed than the first man, moved his arm forward in a sweeping arc in an attempt to take advantage of the gap that was still there. It is hard to describe events that take place in a matter of heartbeats accurately, yet when in battle, something strange happens, and time seems to stand still. Your mind can track things that are taking place literally in the blink of an eye like they are happening in slow motion, and one at a time instead of simultaneously. All that I am describing here took perhaps five or six normal heartbeats at the most, and still, more than 40 years later I see them as clearly as I see poor Diocles straining to keep up with me! Perhaps even more clearly, since my eyes do not seem to be as sharp as they have been in the past, even a year ago. Continuing, I saw that Vibius was still in danger, as one of the few men armed with one of the long Gallic swords that the Lusitani favored was swinging it down to cleave him in two. Instead of thrusting at the man, I instinctively swung my sword up in a backhand sweep that started at my waist, with my blade meeting the man’s arm just before his own weapon crunched into Vibius’ head, who had closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow. My blade severed the man’s arm as it moved upward through his limb just below the elbow, the reward being another shower as the severed portion of his arm tumbled end over end, splattering blood and flying just above Vibius’ head to smack the man behind him. It turned out to be Scribonius, the arm hitting him dead in the face while the long sword clattered harmlessly to the ground as our friend bellowed out a roar of disgust, and despite the gravity of the situation I felt a grin on my face. Vibius had recovered at this point, his shield back up in the first position, and he struck a blow of his own, gutting the man whose arm I had removed as he stood there staring dumbly at the stump pulsing blood in rhythm with every beat of his heart.
Once he went down, between his and the man with the stick’s deaths, we had formed a small pocket of space, and I heard Rufio roar, “Move forward, Pullus. Use your fat ass for something useful.”
Nodding that I heard him, I stepped forward to meet the man who had originally been opposing me, by now having regained his balance to come back at me. I saw that he held a spear, a wicked looking thing with a large head that appeared to have barbs on it, in his other hand the small round shield they favored, and he advanced warily. Feeling Vibius move forward back to my side, it made me feel secure and allowed me to concentrate on the man who wanted to kill me. Even as my foe moved forward, another Lusitani apparently thought to help him and moved next to him but my opponent snapped something, causing the second man to look angry and make a gesture before turning his attention to Vibius. Now that my opponent was not screaming and acting like he was possessed by a demon, I could see that there was something different about him than the others; he was better dressed for one, and there was an intelligent, almost humorous look in his eyes. When our eyes locked he gave me a grim smile before making a short, mocking bow, then attacked. He was weaving the spear back and forth, and despite myself I followed it with my eyes, exactly what he wanted. Lunging suddenly, he forced me to move my shield in the direction of the lunge to deflect it, also what he wanted me to do. Realizing my mistake at once, it was nevertheless too late, the head of the spear punching at me as he made a backhand, slashing thrust, causing me to twist my upper body in desperation. My countermove saved my life because instead of striking square, the point struck a glancing blow along my ribs, sliding off my armor but still knocking the breath out of me. Even with the protection of the chain mail, I felt a searing pain, making me wonder if he had drawn blood as he instantly recovered to launch another attack, which I managed to block with my shield this time instead of my body. The Lusitani struck at me again and again, yet despite regaining enough of my composure to defend against him, I was still rattled and did not try to strike back. Being truthful, my pride and confidence were hurt more than my side, as I realized that I had been taken in by the constant praise and the belief in me that my comrades displayed, and had convinced myself that I was invincible. Now, this Lusitani had almost proven me and everyone else wrong. Gripping my sword more tightly, I resolved to make up for my mistake and not do it again, waiting for his next attack. He began the weaving again and I smiled grimly, determined not to make the same error. This time when he lunged my shield remained still, not moving to meet his supposed target, instead I took a step forward to make a thrust of my own in the instant where the momentum of his lunge created a gap between his own shield and the shaft of his spear. The point of my blade shot through that small gap, punching into his body just below his breastbone. This time I remembered to keep the blade parallel to the ground then twist it to cause more damage before withdrawing. His eyes widened in shock as his knees collapsed, staring up at me, and I thought, you’re not smiling now are you, you bastard? Vibius in the meantime had dispatched his adversary, enabling us to move forward just a bit more, slowly but inexorably giving our section more room to form into a proper formation. Rufio did not have a whistle, so he was forced to bark out verbal orders for us to rotate through, which he did at that point. Vibius and I each gave a heave to the Lusitani we were engaged with before taking the step to the side, allowing Calienus and Scribonius to take our respective places. Backing up, I kept my shield up since I was on the outside of the formation, then fell behind the last man in the group.