“No!” he shouted, though his voice was completely drowned out by the noise surrounding him. His heart filled with fear. He gazed to his left and saw a centurion shouting an order. Hell was soon unleashed.
“Front rank…throw!” Proculus shouted.
“Second rank…throw!” Macro ordered before the first rank had even finished throwing its javelins.
Artorius threw his without even picking out a single target. He had just enough time to watch his javelin sail low and strike a barbarian in the thigh before the third rank passed him and disgorged their javelins. Almost a continuous volley of javelins rained down on the barbarians as all six ranks unleashed. An entire wave of Cherusci fell with each successive volley. Warriors directly behind them were sprayed with blood. Yet they kept their nerve and moved to face this fresh wave of Romans. It was one thing to fight auxiliaries, now they would spill their wrath onto the hated legions.
“Gladius…draw!”
“Rah!” the legionaries all shouted as one, with one faintly heard ‘Odin!’ from behind the front lines.
The sound of thousands of throats yelling in unison momentarily stunned the advancing warriors, but they quickly recovered and continued to close with their foe. The Germans, many still reeling from the javelin storm, gave a great battle cry of their own and charged. It was the brave and yet undisciplined savages, versus the host of iron men, fighting with cold discipline, moving together as one.
Ingiomerus once again took heart when he saw that his warriors had not faltered. The more men that fell to the Roman javelins, the stronger their resolve became. They would not break this time! Those who had been sprayed with blood from the wounded rubbed it into their faces with lust and zeal. Some even licked it from their lips, relishing its flavor, drawing strength from the fallen. This only increased their berserker ferocity. Quickly they stepped on and over the dead and dying. There was no time to pay reverence to the dead. That would come once the hated legions were destroyed. Like a host of demons they cried out and renewed their charge, but the Romans were ready for them.
Barbarians smashed into the Roman ranks only to be cut down in rapid succession. As they fought to make holes in the Roman lines, legionaries punched them with their shields and stabbed away with their swords. The Romans were one vast line of death and destruction. The Cherusci made a great show of jumping about, swinging their weapons wildly. Desperately they tried to use their superior size and brute force to overwhelm their opponents. In contrast, the Roman soldiers’ techniques were simple and anything but flamboyant. Each blow was executed with precision, speed, and power. In desperation, many warriors flung their bodies into the Roman lines, hoping to knock the legionaries down. The Romans’ superior balance and skill negated much of this. A German would throw his bodyweight into the shield of a Roman, throwing himself off balance before he was quickly stabbed by one of the soldier’s companions. As legionary and warrior smashed, hacked, and stabbed at each other, most individual battles ended in agony and horror. It was nearly impossible for a warrior to find a gap in the Roman defense, yet still they came; both warrior and soldier falling in the cacophony of murder. Sooner or later the Roman lines would wear down and break, they had to! Then the Cherusci would have them!
Chapter XXI: For Wrath, For Vengeance
Artorius watched as the front rank engaged the enemy in as fierce a struggle as he had ever witnessed. He had never seen men fight with such fury. He knew that in a battle of this magnitude, passages-of-lines would come rapidly. It was crucial to keep fresh troops out front, as the tempo of this battle would cause soldiers to expend energy at an alarming rate. Artorius breathed deeply and let out a long sigh. He knew this would be an exhausting day. The sun was out, and it was starting to get warm. The Germans were taking a severe punishing; there were just so many of them! Occasionally a Roman soldier would fall as well. Artorius watched as one poor fellow was stabbed in the stomach, his armor buckling as the barbarian attempted to penetrate his guts with his spear.
“Get him off the line!” Sergeant Ostorius shouted as two men grabbed the injured legionary and dragged him away from the fighting after finishing off the attacker.
They handed him back to soldiers in the third rank, who would get him to the litter bearers.
“Set for passage-of-lines!” Proculus shouted.
Artorius settled into his fighting stance, determination in his eyes. Everything would be settled here!
“Stay together, men! Watch out for each other!” he heard Centurion Macro say at the end of the line.
“Precision strikes, nothing fancy, make every blow count!” Optio Vitruvius called out at the other end. “They’re big, but they can’t stand being hurt!”
“Now, my brothers,” the centurion said, his voice rising, “for wrath, for vengeance, and for the souls lost in Teutoburger Wald…send them all to hell!”
“Execute passage-of-lines!”
As the Second Century gave a thunderous roar, Artorius felt his adrenaline levels surge. Instinctively, they all stepped off together and passed through the First Century. Artorius did not have to search for a target, there were so many in front of him! Immediately he smashed his shield into a barbarian who was hammering away on the shield of a soldier from the First Century. The force of his blow knocked the barbarian down. Artorius had to raise his shield immediately to defend himself as another barbarian stabbed at him with his spear. He quickly smashed his assailant twice in the face with the boss of his shield. The barbarian dropped his spear and turned to run, his face covered in blood from where his nose had exploded. He was soon cut down. The Germans may have been many, but they could only fight the Romans one at a time. The tightly packed legionary ranks did not allow the barbarians to use their numbers against individual soldiers.
Artorius continued to punch away with his shield. As openings presented themselves, he stabbed with his gladius. A barbarian was attacking him high while protecting his face and chest with a wicker shield. Artorius dropped to one knee, and in a rare move, slashed with his gladius. The razor sharp blade cleaved into the barbarian’s shin, nearly severing his lower leg. The man fell to the ground screaming in pain, blood spurting from the mangled limb. Another quickly took his place, attempting to bring his spear onto the top of his head, but Artorius saw him coming. He lunged upward, catching the barbarian under the chin with the top of his shield. He then stabbed the dazed German beneath the ribs. He looked to his left and right and saw nothing but the enemy. He then realized he was starting to step away from the line. Automatically, he stepped back into line as another German attacked him. This one carried a two-handed club, which he swung in an overhand smash. Artorius did not even bother punching with his shield. Instead, he rapidly stepped in and stabbed the man in the armpit, penetrating to the heart. It felt as though his gladius was a conscious entity, able to seek out the most vital of organs on the human body. He stepped back and took several deep breaths. He had been fighting for no more than a minute, and yet he was already breathing hard. The barbarians kept coming at him in force. Every fight took huge amounts of energy and strength.