“Well, at least we’ve secured this beachhead,” the master centurion said as he looked back towards the sea. Dozens of ships were still anchored out amongst the rolling waves, awaiting orders to offload their troops and various cargoes. Artorius then made his decision. “Time to bring the cavalry ashore. We’ll use them to root out those fucking cowards who hide from us amongst the trees.”
He made his way back down the slope once more to find Camillus.
“There’s the signal!” a sailor on the prow of the large Quinquereme said.
Tribune Cursor gave a sigh of relief before turning to Centurion Taurus. “I will accompany Indus’ Horse ashore. The auxiliary infantry will assist with the offloading of supplies.”
“Understood,” Taurus replied.
The tribune then walked over to where his mount was already hanging from a large sling off a specially-made crane that used a series of pulleys for handling crates and livestock. He gently rubbed the horse’s muzzle before signaling to the sailors to drop him over the side. There were two cranes on each side of the ship, and with several horses already spooked by the chaos of activity on the ship’s deck, it was a struggle for their riders, and the sailors, to keep them still long enough to get the slings beneath them without getting kicked for their efforts.
Cursor was grateful that his own beast was surprisingly calm, and as the animal was hoisted over the side of the ship, he climbed over the railing and dropped himself into the surging waters. As the legionaries had secured the beach, he had left his armor strapped to his horse in hopes of keeping it dry until he got ashore. The water was freezing, and Cursor struggled to keep his shivering under control as he took the bridle of his horse and led it through the choppy seas. A gust of wind caught him as he stepped onto the sandy bar, waves lapping beneath his sandaled feet. As he unstrapped his armor, he saw that it was soaking wet. All he could figure was that his horse must have stumbled into the surf at some point, thereby drenching his armor.
“Damn it all,” he swore under his breath, then deciding he wouldn’t even bother to don a dry tunic.
Twenty or so troopers were also coming ashore, some had attempted, like the tribune, to keep their armor dry, others had not bothered and made their way through the seas fully kitted. The men were all from the legendary regiment, Indus’ Horse, which had gained its formidable reputation during the Rebellion of Sacrovir and Florus in Gaul more than twenty years prior.
“Inform your commander that I want the regiment formed up in columns on the beach,” Cursor directed a nearby squad leader, who helped him finish putting on his armor. “I’m going forward to ascertain the situation before we advance further.”
“Yes, sir.”
The tribune then donned his helmet, with its black accents, lion’s head on the crown, and magnificent red plume. From a tactical standpoint, he hated wearing such ostentatious garb, which like his muscled cuirass armor, would distinguish him as an officer even from a great distance. By the same token, he knew that his men needed to be able to identify him quickly during battle, and like all leaders he accepted the risk involved with being so readily noticeable.
It was a short ride up the slope to where Artorius and the First Cohort were holding. Sempronius had taken the rest of the legion staff, along with the aquilifer, further to the right, trying to center himself on the rest of the legion.
“Artorius!” Cursor shouted as he rode up and quickly dismounted. The master centurion jogged back to the tribune and saluted before clasping his friend’s hand.
“Glad to have you with us!” he said. “We’ve been harassed by archers, but they seem to have gone to ground for the moment. Think you can root them out for us?”
“I’m bringing up Indus’ Horse as we speak,” Cursor replied, bringing a knowing grin from Artorius, who had fought beside the regiment during the very actions where they earned their renown. The tribune then explained further, “Rome does not have a lot of recent experience with amphibious invasions, and it is a slow process getting cavalry ashore. The rest of the regiment should be up within an hour, but the other two will not hit the beaches before dark. Still, once the rest of Indus’ Horse is up, we can help drive those bastards into you.”
Artorius shook his head. “No, that will take too long, when now we just need to keep driving forward. I recommend you link up with Sempronius and let him know I will push forward with the First and Second Cohorts, and that he can use your cavalry to screen the front of the rest of the legion.”
“That works for me,” Cursor replied as he remounted.
“First Cohort!” Artorius shouted. “Make ready to advance!”
Though Banning had relished watching legionaries fall to his archers and slingers, he was distraught over how many of his warriors had been killed or captured on the beaches. That the Roman warships could breathe fire had come totally unexpected, and his men were still shaken by having watched a number of their friends burned alive.
“The Roman legion has landed all of its men,” one of his scouts reported to him. “They’re cavalry is coming ashore as we speak.”
“Damn it all,” Banning muttered. He knew his warriors were too few to face a legion head-on, and if they had cavalry with them, then that boded ill for his skirmishers. He, begrudgingly, made his next decision. “We will withdraw for now. But know this; this war has only just begun! I promise you, the Romans will continue to shed blood and tears over every inch of ground they crawl through!”
A war horn sounded a single note, and scores of warriors appeared from the thickets and groves of trees, running towards their rally point, several miles inland. Banning had hoped to punish the Cantiaci further for their lack of fortitude in the face of the invaders, but with the sounds of advancing legionaries, he knew there was no time.
It was almost nightfall by the time the Twentieth Legion established its perimeter and encamped for the night. Aside from the initial skirmish on the beaches and harassment from enemy archers, they had been largely unopposed. Sempronius had placed the principia near a large cliff that would give sentries an over watch of the beach, where supplies were still being ferried ashore under torchlight. A large fire burned outside the massive tent, while inside numerous torches and lamps added a degree of warmth.
“At least it’s slightly warmer than on the Rhine,” Artorius noted as he entered the principia and removed his helmet, which he handed to a nearby servant.
The legion’s headquarters was a mass of activity, as equite tribunes and staff officers sorted through all the logistics, as well as reports from each of the cohorts. Also present were the centurions of the First Cohort, as well as Tribune Cursor.
“It went a lot better today than I first anticipated,” Sempronius said as he glanced over a hastily scrawled map that showed the positions of his cohorts that were stretched out on a long line that formed a haphazard semicircle that used the cliffs to cover their backs. His face was pale with eyes that were bloodshot.
Artorius surmised that the young chief tribune had not slept in a week.
“In the morning I’ll send out patrols to establish communications with Vespasian and Plautius,” Cursor said. “Once we accomplish that, we’ll post auxiliaries between each task force, preventing the enemy from flanking us.”
Sempronius simply nodded in reply, too exhausted as he was to do any more than let his senior officers formulate their plan. “What of our losses?” he asked.
One of the staff tribunes walked over with a parchment.
“It could have been much worse,” the young officer replied. “All told, we lost six, with about another twenty wounded.”