Nearby, Legionary Spurius killed his first human being as his javelin tore through the side of another rebel, puncturing both lungs. The young soldier was breathing heavily, his mind awash in feelings of both triumph and revulsion.
“Third rank. . throw!” Centurion Vitruvius barked.
Soon all six ranks of the cohort had disgorged their javelins. The Turani were caught completely off-guard, not knowing where this threat was coming from. They had been told that this would be a minor skirmish, a simple blood-letting to prepare them to face the legions. In what could only be perceived as an act of betrayal, the Romans had completely outmaneuvered them and were smashing into the rear of their army. Bodies piled up as the survivors turned about to face this new threat.
“Gladius. . draw!”
The legionaries’ audible shout completely panicked the Turani. There was mass confusion and many started looking for ways to flee the battle. Unfortunately, there was nowhere for them to run. Many still had no idea the Romans were even behind them, and were caught completely by surprise as a wall of legionaries collided with the rear of their lines. Those engaging Sacrovir’s troops in front were readying themselves to withdraw, completely unaware their escape was now cut off.
Sacrovir’s army was just as confused, not knowing if they should disengage or continue to pursue the battle. The Gallic general himself dared not ride down into the fray to try and stop the killing. To do so would be to show his hand, and now was not the time. He could only watch through clenched teeth as Roman troops continued to slaughter the Turani. No one appeared to be even attempting to fight back, just survive, and possibly escape.
Alasdair laid his head on his friend’s shoulder in despair. The Andecavi and Turani were kin to each other. The young man had many friends and relatives amongst the Andecavi and Turani, who were now being slaughtered by the Romans. Inhuman screams accompanied the din of battle.
“Those bastards!” he cursed through his tears. “They fight with treachery and deceit! My friends, my kinfolk, I should have died with them.”
Farquhar grabbed Alasdair by the shoulders and shook his head. “No,” he replied, “not this way. There will come a time for us to take out our retribution against Rome, but not today.”
“Does this mean you intend to join us?” Alasdair asked.
Farquhar nodded and said passionately, “I renounce my family’s Roman citizenship! I am a noble of Gaul, and we shall lead our people by our example and all will rise with us against those barbaric bastards that dare to call themselves the heart of civilization!”
Alasdair embraced his friend. As long as he had Farquhar with him, he would be alright. Together they would rid their homeland of the Romans.
Artorius stood ready as the Third Cohort pushed deep into the Turani lines. They were giving way quickly, and it was turning into little more than a killing frenzy. Then Proculus gave the order, “Set for passage of lines!”
Proculus’ signifier raised his standard as a signal to the rest of the cohort. Soldiers in the front rank ceased in their advance and stood defensively. The Turani, who had been getting steadily pushed back, did not know what to do. None had ever seen the Romans execute precision maneuvers before, and they were unaware as to what was coming. Artorius rocked onto the balls of his feet, ready to spring as the next command was sounded.
“Execute passage of lines!”
With a unified shout of rage the Second Century stepped off and passed through the rank in front of them. By this point, many of the rebels had already thrown down their weapons in an attempt to surrender, aware as they were of the hopelessness of their situation. But no order had been given to cease the attack.
Artorius tilted his shield and smashed the bottom edge into the face of a rebel who had just thrown down his spear and shield. The blow knocked the man down, rendering him unconscious. Artorius elected not to finish him, instead focusing on another Turani who wielded a short sword, and small, circular shield. The man attempted a punch with his shield, but before he could pull his arm back, Artorius brought his gladius down hard upon his forearm.
The rebel screamed in pain as the gladius cut a deep gash into his arm, smashing the bones in the process. Artorius followed up by punching with his own shield and stabbing the man beneath the ribcage. Before he could engage his next adversary, cornicens sounded the halt.
“Cohort, stand fast!” Proculus shouted.
As soon as the legionaries ceased in their attack, the Turani started throwing down their weapons en mass. Many were weeping, their heads bowed in shame.
“We’ve been betrayed,” Artorius heard a Turani say quietly to the rebel next to him. The decanus cocked his head to one side, curious as to what the man had said.
“Who betrayed you?” he demanded.
The Turani stared at him, eyes filled with hate, and spat at him.
“Go fuck your mother, Roman,” the man growled.
This earned him a blow from Artorius’ shield flush on his jaw. The rebel’s eyes rolled back in his head as he crashed to the ground. His face emotionless, Artorius stepped forward and rammed the bottom of his shield into the man’s stomach. The rebels surrounding the man stood wide-eyed, faces full of fear. The soldier’s expression remained stoic.
“Artorius stand down, damn it!” Statorius shouted at him.
“Don’t insult my mother again,” Artorius said calmly before returning to his place on the line.
On the extreme right of the line, Calvinus stood breathing heavily. The adrenaline rush that followed close combat was still strong, even after twenty-five years in the legions. As he readied to give orders regarding the taking of prisoners, Sacrovir rode up on his horse.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” the Gaul screamed at him. “You were supposed to hold in reserve, not go off on your own without even consulting me!”
“Don’t you ever give me orders!” Calvinus snapped. “Instead of allowing the rebels to escape with their noses bloodied, we have routed and captured practically all of them. Now I suggest you round up these prisoners and get them into the stockades! Trust me, you don’t want my men to do it.” Calvinus’ defiant smirk told Sacrovir that he had planned his little maneuver from the very beginning.
Sacrovir regained his composure, lest he show his hand to the centurion. He turned his horse around and rode back towards his army. Across the plain, many of the Turani were unaware that they had been taken from behind and could not understand why, instead of retreating, they were being forced to surrender.
Calvinus then turned to his cornicen. “Sound recall,” he told the man. He then addressed the centurions of the First Cohort. “We will recover any dead and wounded we may have and retire to our barracks. Then we will wait and see what moves the rebels and Sacrovir make.”
Ellard did not know what to make of the chaos that erupted in front of him. Their part in the skirmish had been going well enough. He had even succeeded in skewering an unsuspecting Turani through the guts with his spear,when suddenly he spotted Roman standards behind their adversaries. Panic had engulfed the Turani as they were cut down in numbers by the legionaries. After the Romans stopped the attack, Ellard glanced at his companions. Radek seemed unconcerned, while Torin hung his head. Ellard decided to make use of the lull. He set his weapons down and started searching the dead in front of him.
Most of the men bore little except their weapons; however, he did find a small amulet around one man’s neck. He could not tell if the red stone or silver-like metal were valuable or not, but there was only one way to find out. He pulled out his dagger and started to cut the leather cord that bound the amulet to the slain man’s neck when a pair of hands shoved him hard from behind. He fell to the ground, the cord snapping in his hand. Ellard sprung to his feet, coming face to face with Torin, whose face was red with rage.