The legionary was equipped with a throwing pilum[ii] or javelin designed to penetrate shield and armour of advancing enemies and a short sword to stab into the intestines of the enemy. They weren’t trained to slash or swipe at their foes, but to get in close, using the shield wall and driving hard against the enemy, stabbing through the small gaps at anything that might cause grievous injury and disable the enemy.
Even so, a lightly equipped and rapidly deployed mounted unit should cause severe damage to the Romans. I was under no illusions, as the Romans displayed enormous capacity to evolve and adapt their strategies to face all manner of foe.
The thirty men who’d been left behind as defenders initially laughed at my attempts to train the women. However, the laughter turned to silent appreciation, followed by active participation.
I started as any Marine would, with basic drill. The ability to obey commands without question was part of the Romans’ secret of success; that along with discipline and successful tactics practiced so often to become second nature. Such was its success that even the modern military used similar methods over two thousand years later.
I knew I could never defeat the Romans, but we could make them sit up and take notice.
They’d made me some basic pants and a tunic, strapping a wide leather belt around my trim waist. I was also given some soft hide boots with harder leather soles that fitted me beautifully. Tying my hair back in a tight bun with a pair of wooden spikes to retain it was the most effective way of getting it out of my way.
I made all the women wear similar clothes, all of green or brown colour. Hard leather tunics that were crude but reasonably light breastplates were the only armour we had. As my intention was to make a light and fast corps, we had neither the time for heavy armour, nor the ability to make it.
There were about sixteen hundred people left in the settlement, mainly women, old people and children. I chose eight hundred women to start with, whittling it down to a mere five hundred in the end.
My first test was a simple run. I had them all run approximately two miles, taking only those who ran it in about fourteen minutes. Then I made them run one mile carrying twenty pounds of rocks in a bag strapped to their backs.
That gave me five hundred and six women and girls, aged between fifteen and twenty-five. I was amazed to find girls as young as fourteen as mothers, and as old as twenty-eight as grandmothers. Forty was generally accepted as old, with life expectancy in the late twenties for the most part.
I drilled them for five days, harking back (or forward) to my days as a drill sergeant. Then I split them into five groups of a hundred, so making five companies. Then into smaller groups of thirty-three, as platoons within those companies. Then again, split down to eleven girls in each section.
I made one girl a leader of each section, deciding to promote the best to command each platoon and finally each company
I placed the bigger girls in the Heavy Company, equipped with long and sharply pointed lances. The faster and fitter girls I placed in Recon Company, with only long knives as defensive weapons and the bow as offensive weapons. The best at riding became the Assault Company, with short stabbing lances and short swords as backup. The slower riders I put in the Support Company, who carried heavy spears, so when dismounted, they formed a defensive barrier, behind which the Archers Company could make the most of their skills.
Now the men came to my help, with each Company finding a skilled man in their particular skill to teach them. I took an overview, passing among them, helping, guiding, correcting and shouting encouragement.
Many called me ‘Goddess’, failing to meet my eyes and often wanting to genuflect whenever I passed close. I became angry and would shout at them
“I am as mortal as you! You must call me Layla, and treat me as your commander, not a goddess.”
Old habits die hard, but after the first two weeks, I believed I’d got through to them. Few called me Layla, preferring to call me, ‘My Lady’, ‘Lady Commander’ or ‘Commander Layla’. Each was a compromise I accepted.
On the day their men-folk were being defeated, I brought them together, and we started training in earnest. I had six basic drills and tactics, none of which involved face-to-face contact with the might of Rome. On an equal footing, the Roman would win each time. The trick was to tip the balance into our favour.
Harry and parry, attack and escape, that’s all I wanted them to do. Sneak up during the hours of darkness, inflict some damage and disappear before they could react.
The girls were wildly enthusiastic, full of guts and determination. I had held certain prehistoric views pertaining to women in the military. I revised and reversed those opinions based on my experience with these girls. They were simply wonderful, willing to learn and willing to die, if necessary. They’d have made superb Marines!
A rider approached the settlement some four days after the battle. The man was exhausted and wounded with a nasty sword slash across his shoulder. He came to tell of the defeat and to instruct the women to flee to the hills. Instead, he found a military force in training, ready and willing to mobilise against the foe.
I was in the keep, delegating roles to my newly appointed commanders. I’d adapted semaphore with arm movements as basic instructions. No one could read or write, so messages had to be simply visible instructions like ‘regroup’, ‘attack’, ‘retreat’, ‘move left’, ‘move right’, ‘feint to the right’, ‘to me’, ‘V’ formation’, ‘skirmish line’ and others. I also used a drum to beat out the same orders in simple codes, for I anticipated many situations where line of sight command would be difficult to achieve.
I was dressed in black leggings tucked into my boots and a russet red tunic with leather armour over the top. I had a Roman short sword on a scabbard attached to a belt that I’d slung over my shoulder, and so it hung on my left hand side. It had been taken as a trophy by one of the men in the settlement, and he had presented it to me.
My hair had been woven into tresses and tied back neatly behind my head, around which I placed a silver circlet. I felt marvellous, so even the gloomy atmosphere of the gloomy main room in the keep didn’t dampen my feelings. I remembered Michael’s comment about feeling invincible. The oil burning lamps attached to the walls gave off a dull yellow glow, and some light came through the hole in the centre of the roof, created to allow the smoke from the fire out. There was no fire blazing at this time.
The man came into the keep, being held up by two of my girls.
“It’s Cabacula, he’s the chieftain’s younger son,” said Iona, my newly-appointed second in command.
“Send for his mother,” I said to one of the girls by the door.
“Yes, my lady,” she said, trotting away
Cabacula stared at the girls, all strapping on their leather armour and sharpening their blades.
“What’s happened to you all?” he asked, as his mother came in, wailing and wringing her hands. Such was the awe in which the people held me that even his mother waited for me to finish talking to her son.
“How far away are the Romans?” I asked.
He turned and looked at me. “Two, maybe three days march. They seem in no great haste as they are licking their wounds after the battle.”
“There are how many of them, fifteen hundred?”
“How did you know?” he asked. “Who are you, anyway?”
“She is the Commander, she knew of your defeat days ago,” said Iona, falling silent under my gaze.
“Many of the men are now captives, so we shall set them free. Tonight we feed and sleep, for tomorrow we march,” I announced. Then I turned to Cabacula, “You will go with your mother, let her treat your wounds, then when you are better, you will help us find the Romans.”