Eborius snatched another look at the advancing tribesmen and gave a grim nod.
‘Oh, and watch your back,’ added Carnifex.
‘Anyone with a bow, second rank,’ ordered Eborius. ‘Everyone else behind a shield.’
Procyon crouched down with Annia, close to the southern line. Mutilus coaxed Cassius and Indavara further to the right and shoved them down on the ground by the mansion wall.
‘Remember who’s got your girlfriend,’ he said, pointing at Procyon. When he saw they were watching, the other optio tapped his dagger blade against Annia’s cheek. Mutilus hurried back to join Carnifex.
Cassius got up on his knees and watched as the Maseene on both sides slowed their mounts. With the Romans spread out and disorganised they would easily have held the advantage, but Carnifex had taken only a few moments to give Darnis’s divided garrison a fighting chance. Eborius had fewer men on his side, fifty at the most, but he faced the lesser force — no more than a hundred.
Cassius put a hand on Indavara’s shoulder. ‘Fortuna must be on your side. Surely not even you could kill a lion with a belt buckle.’
Instead of replying, Indavara grabbed Cassius’s tunic and dragged him back against the wall. A long javelin landed in the muddy ground where Cassius’s legs had been.
‘Gods. Thanks.’
The weapon’s shaft was still wobbling when Indavara pulled it out. He looked along the wall but Procyon had already seen him. The optio shook his head like a parent admonishing a child. Indavara threw the javelin away. ‘We have to get her away from him.’
Two more javelins landed close by. Another struck the wall above them and fell harmlessly into Cassius’s lap. He put it down by his side where Procyon couldn’t see it. The Maseene weapons were different to the army’s shorter, metal javelins; the shaft was wood, and they were as tall as a man, with a broad-bladed iron head.
Soon dozens of the javelins were raining down on the Romans. Most of them thudded into the hide covers and planking of the shields, but a few found their way through. Two cries went up from the northern line and one legionary without a helmet staggered backwards, hand gripping his face. Cassius squeezed back against the wall and followed Indavara’s example, bowing his head and covering it with his arms.
‘Second rank!’ shouted Carnifex, now crouching behind his men. ‘Turn and put your shields up. Now they’ll hit us in the back.’
Having made little impact on the first rank, the Maseene lengthened their range precisely as Carnifex had predicted. There were far fewer shields on Eborius’s side and three men at the rear were struck immediately.
One unfortunate fell just yards from Cassius. The javelin had somehow found its way through the panels of his plate armour and into his flank. Lying on his side, he bit down so hard that his teeth sank deep into his bottom lip.
Javelins now littered the section of road between the Roman lines.
‘Steady there, lads,’ shouted Carnifex as he buckled his chinstrap. ‘There won’t be many more. They usually carry three to a man and they’ll keep one in hand for later.’
Moments later, the hail of javelins petered out.
‘Coming forward, sir!’ another man told the centurion. ‘Still on horseback.’
‘I can hear that. Don’t fret — those desert nags’ll start getting nervous soon.’
Carnifex checked on the situation to the north, where the horsemen were also closing in. The legionaries on both sides were virtually silent. Maseene voices yelled what sounded like a mixture of instruction and encouragement.
‘Still coming forward, sir,’ said Mutilus. ‘Hundred feet.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Carnifex. He pulled a man out of the line and ordered him to collect up some of the javelins.
‘Dismounting, sir,’ said Mutilus.
‘Archers to the north,’ shouted Carnifex. ‘Wait until they’re good and close.’
Eborius — keeping his big frame hidden behind two shields — turned and looked at Carnifex. The old centurion gave him a wolfish grin.
Cassius and Indavara got up on their knees again. The Maseene were forming a dense attacking line, leaving perhaps a fifth of their number at the rear to take charge of the mounts. At a shouted signal the tribesmen on both sides jabbed their javelins into the air three times. At a second shout they unleashed a long, piercing war cry. Their march towards the Romans became a run.
‘You got a spear or a sword, protect your shield-man,’ ordered Carnifex.
Closer to Cassius and Indavara, Noster drew his bow and aimed it over the crouching men who formed the first line. ‘Sir?’
‘Wait.’
Eborius watched the advancing warriors, his dark face slick with sweat beneath his helmet.
‘Sir?’ repeated Noster.
When Eborius’s order finally came, it was a full-blooded shout. ‘Loose!’
Twenty bowstrings snapped tight and as many screams went up from the Maseene line. Noster and the others reached for their next arrow.
‘Keep those shields together!’ ordered Carnifex, making adjustments where the row of legionaries curved slightly to join up with the corner of the barracks.
The Maseene slowed as they reached the shield walls. Though some had swords strapped to their belts or the little daggers ready at their forearms, almost all attacked with javelins, jabbing over the tops of the shields. The legionaries behind them stayed low, solely occupied with keeping the barrier in place. The second rank did as Carnifex had instructed, hacking at any well-aimed javelins with their swords.
Despite the numbing din of grunts and shouts and the clash of metal and wood, Cassius saw that the southern line was swiftly settling into a stalemate. The outnumbered Romans couldn’t advance but the lightly armed Maseene couldn’t break through Carnifex’s immaculate line. The two sides would keep at each other until fatigue set in or a breach was made.
Eborius’s men were faring better. With a smaller force attacking them — and no more thrown javelins to worry about — the archers were able to pick their targets. Without a single piece of armour between them, Maseene were falling one after the other.
‘They should withdraw,’ said Cassius.
‘Not likely,’ replied Indavara. ‘Look at their faces.’
Cassius had seen such wild-eyed fury before and he knew these men had more reason to despise Rome than any Palmyran warrior.
Eborius swung his long blade and chopped the end off a Maseene javelin, then ducked down to survey his line. Satisfied that they were more than holding their own, he turned and looked at Carnifex, who had stopped next to the pile of javelins collected by the legionary. Bent almost double, Eborius then moved left along the line to Noster, who was drawing an arrow from his quiver. He spoke a few words into the veteran’s ear, then returned to the fray, discouraging the Maseene with more broad sweeps of his sword.
‘Centurion!’ came a desperate shout from the First Century. A group of Maseene three or four deep had clustered close to the centre of the southern line and some of the massed javelin thrusts were starting to tell. Two legionaries were already on the ground and in moments two more fell back. Others moved quickly to take up their shields but the line was looking vulnerable.
Carnifex, still with sword undrawn, picked up two of the Maseene javelins and ordered the legionary to follow with the rest. Crouching low, he ran to the over-pressed section. Weighing one of the weapons in his hand, he suddenly stood up straight and flung the javelin over the top of a shield. Cassius saw two arms fly up and heard an agonised shriek. Carnifex crouched over once more and took five steps to his left. He popped up again and let fly, this time hitting another unprotected warrior in the face. The legionary passed him more javelins and on he went, never appearing in the same place twice, always finding a target. In moments, he had taken out ten of the enemy and the pressure on the shield wall had been relieved. Carnifex pulled a canteen off Mutilus’s belt and took a drink.