Because war was killing…
Killing…
Casca shivered at the thought of his first kill.
NINE
They were encamped below Coblenz, just a little south of where Caesar had crossed the Rhine twenty-three years before, and they faced, across the river, the descendants of the same group of people Caesar had vanquished in his surprise raid into heretofore untouched Germany, the Suevii. The night was moonless, and a dense fog covered the black, ominous land.
They did not know that the Suevii warriors were floating silently across the river on logs.
After crossing the river, the barbarians maintained strict silence all that night and into the morning, making no attempt on any of the legion's positions or sentries, keeping completely out of contact. Only the barbarian scouts observed the Roman positions. They waited…
With the dawn the legion broke camp and took up positions for the march to the rendezvous point where they would join the main army for spring maneuvers. Casca remembered that dawn… crisp… cool… a low ground fog remaining from the night's heavy fog, lying in the hollows and gullies. A great day to be alive. Killing was the farthest thing from his mind.
The legion formed up into its marching order on the road they had built in the spring of last year. The day would be a good one, just cool enough to keep from getting overheated on the march, and all the men were in good spirits. The Tribuni Militarium were each at their assigned positions, but the cavalry had not yet taken up scouting position. The equestrians were in good spirits, and so were their mounts. The horsemen gamboled and joked before getting into orderly ranks.
That momentary slackness, when the pickets were called in and the cavalry was not yet in position, cost many lives.
The Suevii waited only until the legion was clear of the stockade. Then, with no warning or battle cries, they rushed silently like the forest wolves they resembled and inserted themselves between the Romans and the legion's former sanctuary.
A startled legionnaire in the rear sounded the alarm just seconds before a boar spear tore off half his head.
The other hidden elements of the barbarian force, some fifteen thousand strong, fell upon the mounted nobility, and, almost without breaking stride, they separated them from the main body. Five thousand screaming Suevii placed themselves between the horsemen and the legion. Another ten thousand immediately threw themselves upon the point and rear of the Seventh, while a third element tried to break through the center and divide the legion into separate pockets that could be more easily destroyed.
In this they did not succeed.
At the first indication of danger, the legion center turned as if on instinct. Even before the first flight of arrows fell on them like deadly rain they were facing the barbarians. Following their training, they placed themselves in formation. The officers called out the orders. The center held against the first wave of screaming Germans thrown against the living wall of troopers.
The Germans fell back, leaving several hundred of their brethren on the damp morning earth either dead or being put into that state by the legionnaires. The legion would take no prisoners at this stage. Even a wounded dog may bite, so, before the next attack could take place, the legionnaires sliced the throats of all the wounded barbarians.
This took less than three minutes. They were already forming into the defensive square with the rest of their comrades. The legion was formed- but without the cavalry.
Casca had watched as the young nobility had been separated and had been carved up as the Suevii broke upon them. Many of the Germans carried long poles with metal hooks on the end, like the poles used by boatmen to gaff large fish. With these they had pulled the cavalry from their saddles so that they fell stunned to the ground where other barbarians had fallen upon them and cut their throats. Out of four hundred brave young men less than twenty made their way to the safety of the square. There they cried with rage and shame, and more than one threw himself upon his sword rather than face the disgrace which they had invited upon themselves. The living found themselves places in the living wall and faced the Germans with dark hearts and a need to kill.
After the first assault, the Germans drew back. Casca took a good look at his enemies. They seemed as if they were from another world… big, hairy men with blond hair to their shoulders and fierce mustaches that reached below their chins. Many had flaming red hair and full beards. Their armor was of a motley variety, but limited by the owner's wealth and personal likes… oxhide shields… wolfskin headdresses… horned steel helmets… captured Roman shields from battles going back over two hundred years.
The great swords of the barbarians took two hands to swing and could cleave a man to his navel if hit. These and the axes were their favorite weapons. Casca had been told that the Suevii were masters of the axe, and he saw that it was true. Many of the warriors carried a half dozen or more throwing axes, and they also had the heavy battleaxe for close work. These did more damage than the swords when they faced the legion wall.
The Germans stood all in a mass waiting for the next attack to begin. They worked themselves into a killer-berserk rage, beating their shields in time, letting a tremendous growl begin low in their throats and then build into an ear-piercing shriek, a wild howl like that of enraged wolves. Several of the Germans could not stand the waiting and without any assistance from their comrades threw themselves upon the Roman wall. There the legionnaires almost absentmindedly dispatched them.
Then the attack began.
They came running low to the ground, resembling the beasts of the forests whose skins they wore. Wave after wave of arrows preceded them, and many ran into the flying shafts themselves in their eagerness to kill.
Casca stood. He saw that his shield mate beside him was grinning weakly. He himself felt a sudden desire to urinate. He wanted to run, but it required less courage to remain where he was than to break ranks and be dishonored by his comrades, and he realized then the truth of something his Uncle Tontine had once said, that many heroic acts were accomplished by fear…
The Suevii were upon them.
Battleaxes flashed in the morning sun. The barbarian devils' faces were red with the lust for blood. They crowded in upon each other in their haste to kill Romans. A legionnaire three men down from Casca was pulled from his position by one of the hooks used on the cavalry. With one flashing swipe his head was off and hoisted onto a spear head and thrown back into the square. But the soldier's spot was filled before he had even been pulled completely out of it by a second rank member. The wall was intact.
Casca struck and struck, parrying blows from spear, axe, and sword. His arm grew leaden. And yet the barbarians continued to throw themselves mindlessly upon the shield of the legion. But the square had shrunk. Over a thousand legionnaires lay dead, their bodies being mutiliated by the barbarians. Still the square held. Casca was wounded twice, once when a spear pierced clean through his shield and about two inches of steel entered his chest just below the right clavicle. His shield mate cut the head of the spear off with his gladius and pulled the spear head from Casca's shoulder in less time than the telling of it took. The other wound was from the glancing blow of a barbarian axe that sliced a clean opening along Casca's left rib cage. Metal armor was at a premium here; leather was only good for light work.