“Oh, yes,” Decimus replied. “I overheard that Severus has a plan to trap the bastards tomorrow. The reason we are prohibited from making fire and any kind of noise is because that is part of the bait.”
“Lure them in, thinking we are docile and ready for the slaughter, and then hit them with everything we have,” Artorius observed, gazing into the fire lights in the distance.
“I hope dawn comes soon. I’d just as soon get it over with,” Magnus replied as he yawned and stretched. “Not that we’ll be able to get any sleep tonight as it is.”
Just then they heard a great commotion as dozens of men made a mad dash to the main gate. They were in an absolute panic, and some could be heard shouting that the barbarians had breached the wall and they had been overrun.
“What the hell is wrong with them?” Magnus asked, extremely irritated. “We haven’t been overrun.”
“Something sure as hell spooked them,” Artorius observed.
As the frightened soldiers closed on the main gate, Severus could be seen running from the other direction and dove onto his stomach in front of the mob.
“Surely none of you will trample your commander.” they heard him shout.
The men stopped in their tracks. Even their overwhelming fear would not allow them to commit such gross disrespect.
As everyone waited to see what would happen next, a voice could be heard shouting, “It’s just a damn horse that got loose.”
At that moment, a centurion ran in between the soldiers and their commander. He was swinging his vine stick violently at anyone in reach.
“What the hell is this? You bloody cowards run from a horse? By fucking Hades, I’ll give you something to be afraid of!” A wave of profanity spewed forth from his mouth as he beat and chastised those unfortunate enough to be in range of his blows.
The soldiers who had fled started running back to their camps, ashamed and humiliated by their conduct. Severus had gotten to his feet and caught up to the enraged centurion. He grabbed the man by the shoulder before he could pursue the fleeing legionaries. The men exchanged a few words, and the centurion seemed to have calmed down some. He gave Severus an affirmative nod as the legate gave him a good-natured smack on the shoulder and walked back to his tent.
“There’s something you don’t see every day,” Magnus observed.
Artorius snorted an irritated reply. “I just hope they don’t panic tomorrow when we have a real fight on our hands.”
Chapter XIII: The Trap is Sprung
Dawn finally came. As it did, Severus called a meeting of all of the senior officers in each legion. All Cohort Commanders were present. He sat mounted on his horse as he gazed into the faces of his men. He saw weariness in their eyes from lack of sleep, but also a fierce determination. The embarrassing events of the night before forgotten. Severus swore that he would never mention it in front of his men, especially when, at that moment, they needed inspiration.
“Today the undisciplined warriors of our enemy, Arminius, will try and do to us what they did to Varus. We will not share their fate. I predict that the Germans will think us beaten and cowering in fear. I look at you, and I look at your men. I see no cowards here. I see men ready to face the barbarians and ready to send those bastards straight to Hades’ door.
“Each legion will take a side of the perimeter. We will offer only token resistance with our archers, allowing them to think they have us beaten. Once they close on the wall, we will withdraw our archers. Each legion will have cohorts designated for assault and javelin throwers. As the barbarians come over the walls, we will hammer them with as many javelin volleys as we can. Scorpions will be placed directly behind each gate and behind the javelin throwers. Once the barbarians have been beaten back from the walls, the assaulting elements will open the gates, fire two volleys from the scorpions, and attack. Our best equestrians will lead the attack which they will execute in wedge formation, breaking the German ranks and allowing the infantry time to form up. All officers are hereby ordered to give their horses to the equestrian ranks. To show that I myself will not flee from the battle should things go wrong, I will be the first to hand over my horse.” With that he dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a waiting soldier.
“Whatever happens today, I will share your fate.”
Ingiomerus stood at the head of the horde. All were tense with anticipation. The Roman fort seemed small and insignificant compared to the intimidating might of his warriors. He looked over at the men he commanded. Most carried wicker or wooden shields, with spears or clubs as their primary weapons. Only a few of the more wealthy, like him, carried swords. His was a two-handed broadsword. It was heavy, which he hoped would help him crack through the Roman shields and armor. While his warriors were not as well equipped as their enemy, they were brave and would not falter.
The Romans, on the other hand, were already beaten. There was not a sound coming from their camp. It was as if it were already a tomb. Their hastily thrown up earthworks would do little to slow down the Cherusci and their allies. A few archers could be seen on the dirt walls. They would be but flies to be swatted away. Ingiomerus raised his sword high and turned to address his warriors.
“The Romans, in their arrogance and recklessness, have returned to the land of the Cherusci. Today they will join the legions that we vanquished six years ago. Your courage and your strength will carry you today; much plunder and glory will you reap. Destroy everything, leave no one alive.”
The Cherusci erupted into a series of battle cries as they beat their weapons against their shields, working themselves into a frenzy. Ingiomerus turned back towards the fort, and with a cry of his own, started to run. He was older than most of the other warriors and was slowed down by age and old wounds. It mattered not. Though many of his warriors surged past him, his purpose had been served. He had rallied the Cherusci into a blinding rage. They would surge over the walls of the Roman fort and annihilate their presence, once and for all.
Arminius sat on his horse, watching from the wood lines on the ridge well behind the band of warriors that were now rushing towards the fort at a dead run. “And so Uncle, how many will perish today because of your recklessness?”
Artorius stood waiting with anticipation. The Twentieth Legion occupied the west wall of the fort and the Third Cohort had been designated to be part of the assault element. They had been directed to give their javelins to the soldiers behind the ramparts. With the multitude of barbarians attacking the fort, they would need all the javelins they could get. Artorius could hear the beating of drums and the chants of the barbarians. They were getting close. He stroked the pommel of his gladius.
The cavalry was formed up to their direct front, with a dozen scorpions lined up in front of them, about ten meters from the gate. Pilate and Dionysus were pacing back and forth behind their machines which were loaded and ready to fire.
The sound of the approaching enemy grew even louder. Artorius tried to visualize in his mind the sight of their teeming numbers, waves of men coming at them like a tide; a tide that would soon break on the rocks of their shields and swords.
“Archers…draw!”
He looked over to see the archers pull back on their bowstrings. On command, they all loosed their arrows.
What a sight it must be from their vantage point! He thought.
Twice more they unleashed their arrows. Artorius wondered how many barbarians had fallen already. It was impossible to know. The noise of their attack was becoming deafening.
“Archers…fall back!” The command was given as throwing darts and the occasional arrow started to fly from the German ranks.