The archers quickly dismounted the rampart and fell back to their supplementary positions behind the infantry. Several were not fast enough and were felled by the German missiles. Artorius watched as one poor fellow fell off the wall with a spear running through his back and coming out of his chest. The shouts of the barbarians were enough to chill his blood. He could hear the loud clambering as they stumbled through the ditches and scrambled up and over the rampart.
“Javelins…ready!”
He heard the command echoed from the cohorts behind the wall. The legionaries gave a loud shout as they hefted their javelins. It was the first audible sound they had made since coming to the fort. As the Germans came over the rampart, many froze in their tracks at what they saw. Instead of being cowed and frightened, ready for the slaughter, here was an entire army ready to fight. The warriors were suddenly struck with fear as they looked at the wall of armored soldiers, all with javelins ready to unleash. A general panic ensued as the warriors in the back pushed the ones up front forward to their doom.
“Front rank…throw!”
The first volley flew straight into the swarm of barbarians on the wall. They were so densely packed together it was impossible for any of the javelin throwers to miss. Jubilant battle cries were replaced by screams of agony and terror as the first group of warriors fell, skewered on the Roman javelins.
“Second rank…throw!”
Another volley flew home, killing or maiming another wave of barbarians.
“Third rank…throw!”
“Fourth rank…throw!”
“Fifth rank…throw!”
“Sixth rank…throw!”
As each successive wave of barbarians pushed their way to the front, a volley of javelins quickly cut them down. Bodies started to pile up on the wall, many of the wounded falling off the wall and into heaps on the ground. Seeing the fate of their brethren, the warriors on the wall tried to force their way back through the waves following behind them. Those attempting to smash through the gate were equally confused and dismayed by the repulse of the warriors on the wall. They were completely shocked when suddenly the gates were thrown open.
Ingiomerus could not see what was happening in front of him. The shouts and cries of his warriors sounded different. No longer did they sound confident and assured of victory. Instead they sounded frightened and confused. There were cries of pain and anguish as well. As he closed on the rampart, he stumbled into the ditch the Romans always dug around their fortifications. He watched as his warriors continued to surge forward, yet there was definitely something wrong. They seemed to be stalled on the rampart. He began to see some fall from the wall, having been stricken by Roman javelins.
“What is happening in there?” he asked himself as he climbed out of the ditch.
As he started up the wall, he was knocked down when a body of a warrior fell on top of him. The man was still alive, though he was ran through the stomach with a javelin. He clawed at the javelin as bile and blood seeped from the wound. Blood erupted from his mouth as he tried to cry out in pain. Ingiomerus could not believe the Romans were mounting any kind of resistance. He had to get to the top. He pushed the dying man off of him and started to scramble up the slope. He watched, horrified, as an entire wave of men was suddenly cut down by a volley of javelins not three meters in front of him. Most fell forward into the fort; others collapsed onto the wall or fell back down the slope. Archers and scorpion ballistae added to the carnage.
“No!” he cried as he saw his warriors starting to waver.
It seemed like every time a group reached the top, they were immediately felled. With a hoarse cry, he raised his sword and surged to the top. As he gazed over the rampart, the sight was unbelievable. The Romans were anything but beaten. They were formed up in six ranks, all bearing javelins, all looking for a fight. He stared in horror as an entire rank threw their javelins as one. Unable to move, he watched a javelin coming right at him. Suddenly, he felt a searing pain in his side as his flesh was pierced. Warriors fell all around him. He dropped his sword and grabbed the javelin, knowing if it were allowed to bend, his side would be ripped open. Suddenly he lost his footing and fell down the slope.
The javelin had not gone completely through. Aware it would make the wound worse, but not knowing what else to do, he wrenched it from his body. Ingiomerus howled in pain as his side was torn asunder. Before he could do anything else, another slain warrior collapsed on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Helpless, he watched as the nearby gates were flung open.
“Scorpions… fire!” Pilate shouted.
Twelve scorpions fired as one, their bolts slamming home into their hapless victims.
“Reload!”
With rapid coordination, the crews quickly wound the cranks on their weapons and loaded bolts into the feed grooves.
“Fire!” Pilate ordered, as soon as he saw that all weapons were reloaded.
The barbarian charge was already broken, this next wave of scorpion bolts only emphasizing the point.
“Cease fire!”
“Cavalry…advance!” Master Centurion Flavius shouted.
The cavalry moved at a gallop, immediately falling into a wedge formation once they cleared the gate. They crashed into the barbarian ranks, slashing with their spatha long swords, trampling many underneath the hooves of their horses.
“Gladius…draw!” Centurion Macro shouted.
As one, swords were drawn from their scabbards, legionaries giving a loud shout as they did so.
“Infantry…advance!” The master centurion ordered.
The infantry ran out the gate, keeping together, centurions and options ensuring that formations stayed intact. Once through the gate, the cohorts formed up on line, three ranks deep. Artorius gasped at what he saw. There were literally thousands of barbarian warriors in front of him, no more than a few dozen meters away. He saw volleys of arrows come sailing from the walls of the fort as the archers reoccupied the ramparts. The arrows impacted deep within the German ranks, making it impossible to see the full effect they were having.
The cavalry had created a large enough gap to allow the infantry room to maneuver and form up on line. They had left many German bodies in their wake. A small number of cavalrymen had been slain, their bodies bludgeoned and mutilated by the barbarians. The cavalry then peeled off in each direction, riding in file around the infantry and forming up behind them. Though the barbarian numbers were enormous, their fighting spirit seemed to be broken. There was mass confusion. They did not know whether to retire or to attack. The Romans made the decision for them.
“At the double-time…march!” Cohort commanders echoed.
Within seconds, they had closed with the barbarian ranks. The Second Century was in the first rank, along with the First Century. With drilled experience, shield bosses slammed into barbarian warriors, followed by rapid stabs with the gladius.
Artorius first faced an incredibly tall barbarian. The man was too tall for him to smash in the face, so he settled for slamming his shield boss into his stomach. He was surprised when the ferocity of his attack actually knocked the giant down. He quickly stepped in and thrust his gladius underneath the German’s jaw, the point of the blade exiting just beneath the skull in the back. His stab and withdrawal was so rapid he managed to get his blade free before the gushing blood could stain the pommel of his sword or his hand. He stepped back and quickly looked to his left and right. Decimus and Magnus were both engaged. However, they seemed to have the situation under control as their opponents were quickly cut down.