The man next to him started to move towards him to drag him to safety, now that the rear had taken another step or two backward, but the Pilus Prior’s voice cut through all of us like a dagger as he roared, “You take one step towards him I'll cut you down myself. He’s a dead man! Leave him to his fate!”
I was appalled and from the look of it so were Vibius and Plautius who both muttered curses under their breath.
“Silete!”
This came like the crack of a whip from Calienus, adding to our shock and confusion. Meanwhile, once the man on the ground, who was in the fifth section of the Second Century and one of the new men like us, was left behind far enough out of range that we could not protect him with either sword or javelin, the Lusitani descended on him. While I could not see, I could plainly hear their cries of triumph as they surrounded him the way a pack of wolves do when they close for the kill, and I said a silent prayer to the gods that he was still unconscious. Unfortunately, the gods were not listening because I was not even finished when I heard him shriek with the kind of pain that comes from the most agonizing of mortal wounds. Despite my attempts to shut it out of my mind, I began speculating on exactly what they were doing to him, his screams continuing for a few moments before, as abruptly as they began, they stopped just as suddenly. We moved just a few more paces when there was a flurry of activity in the surrounding hordes, and after a moment it became clear that one or a group of them was doing something that aroused the rage and frustration of both Centuries, as behind us we could hear the others cursing the Lusitani with a venom missing to that point. I got my answer why when a Lusitani came sprinting within our line of sight, out of range of a javelin but certainly close enough to see and hear him. He was brandishing a spear, on the point of which sat the head of the man they had just slain, and I felt my stomach roil as I fought the urge to unman myself by vomiting at the sight, the blood still dripping from the severed neck, the source of his agony made apparent by the clear visual evidence that he was not decapitated in one clean blow, but in three or four. Still wearing the look of shock and horror that I imagined was his last, his eyes were open, staring at us. They had even left on his helmet and this barbaric display was met with roars of approval from the surrounding Lusitani. Finding myself joining in the cursing, I hurled every vile imprecation I could think of, and as I was doing so, I locked eyes with one of them. This Lusitani was a medium-sized man a few years older than I, with long hair pulled into the knot that was their custom, bare-chested and armed with a long spear and a small shield made of painted wood. Looking me in the eyes, he grinned and with his spear made a gesture across his throat, then pointed and laughed at me. Staring grimly at him, I marked him as a man for whom I would be on the lookout if I was given the opportunity.
Just a hundred paces short of the hill, it was only then that our front rank took a casualty. It was the man behind Plautius, and he was hit by a rock that skipped off the ground to smash into his shin, shattering the bone, forcing him to fall to the ground clutching his leg. As we marched past him he reached out, grabbing Calienus by the leg, forcing him to alter his stride.
“Don’t leave me,” he begged, “for the sake of all the gods, don’t leave me with those savages!”
Calienus refused to answer, but the wounded man would not relinquish his grasp, and now Calienus was falling behind in a way that endangered the line, which in turn endangered the Century. From the corner of my eye I saw a flash of silver; Calienus dispatched the man with a quick and merciful thrust, saying loudly for all of us to hear, “If we break ranks we’ll all die. I’ll do the same to you, and I expect you to do the same to me if it’s needed.”
I did not need any more encouragement to keep my place, trying to shut out what I had just seen. Despite knowing it had to be done to ensure the survival of all of us, seeing Calienus kill one of our own was hard to take. Finally, we made it to the base of the hill, even as the cloud of dust had grown closer, and it now looked like there was a sizable force of Lusitani no more than two miles away. The punishment was not all one way; as we made our way up the hill, the warriors opposite us were now walking backwards up the hill when one of them lunged at us to try striking at what he thought was a weak spot in our line with his long sword, but the blow was deflected easily. As he backed up, however, he tripped over his own feet just a couple of paces away from us but before he could regain his feet he was done in with a quick thrust, his death met with a howl of outrage from the Lusitani. Reaching the top of the hill, we underwent a brief struggle with a few of the more stubborn warriors who realized the advantage we would have if allowed to stay on the crest. My chest was heaving from the effort and I recognized this as a good sign; the hill was much steeper than it looked, and any advantage we could wreak from the situation helped. Even so, things looked bleak until the gods smiled on us, in the form of the Lusitani themselves.