Galba had positioned his troops in a way he hoped would combat the enemy’s superior numbers. Unfortunately, between his legionnaires, Praetorians and auxilia, Claudius’ line still extended nearly twice as far as his own.
On our right flank, opposite the massive numbers of civilian militia, Galba had placed his entire contingent of German auxilia. His three thousand infantry were well trained and armed, and had a tenacity about them I’d never seen before. They’d cut a swath through the civilians, hopefully breaking them quick enough to flank the more superior troops from the rear. Galba left his two thousand cavalry in reserve, but on the right flank as well, ready to sweep around once the civilians were broken, or to aid in that effort if possible. The last of the auxilia, his one thousand strong archers, were spread thin and positioned behind the infantry to screen their advance.
Contrary to standard Roman practice of putting the best troops on the right flank, Galba had requested that Caligula and his Praetorians take up position on the left. Both thousand man cohorts were split in half, and lined up five men deep, and a hundred abreast, forming four blocks. Behind them was Caligula’s Sacred Band, arranged in an inverted square U, with Caligula in the center, riding Incitatus, the infamous horse wildly believed to have been named a consul during Caligula’s crazy years. He was dressed as any other Praetorian would be, with a common trooper’s lorica segmentata armor. It was adorned with a long, flowing, purple plume, and an equally purple cloak wrapped around his shoulders, similar to how Julius Caesar would wear his brilliant scarlet cape into battle
With him were a few dozen other horsemen, forming his officer corps which could act as a small cavalry contingent if needed. High above his men, he had a good view of the field of battle, and could use his vantage point to send messengers on horseback to help coordinate his orders. Galba was similarly on horseback, with his own squad of cavalrymen, also ready to issue orders as well as fight if need be. Galba wore a set of his own personal battle armor, molded to look like a muscle suit, common wear for Roman generals. He stood out as well, but wore a more typical red cape.
Placed before him was his legion. The legion he had trained since they were raw recruits, but wouldn’t stay with once they were commissioned. They were deployed in a checkerboard formation, similar to how old manipular formations would be set up. Each cohort was split in half and arranged so that the troops represented the black spaces, while the white spaces were the area in between each cohort. Galba had placed four cohorts in the first two lines, while the 10th cohort was placed on the far right of our formation, but kept intact as one large body. The third line was made up of two cohorts, with the double sized 1st cohort between them, with the last cohort stretched out, making up a fourth line in reserve. This formation would keep some men out of the battle to help when needed.
The XV Primigenia ’s first cohort, which carried the legion’s standard, the gold aquila, or eagle, was situated in the exact center of the formation, so that the entire army was more or less equidistant from their symbolic eagle. The men of the legion would rather die than see that eagle fall, and should it be captured the entire Roman army would be shamed. I couldn’t remember if the three lost in the Teutoburg Forest had been reclaimed yet, but I knew that most standards found their way home eventually.
Then of course there was me and the five other hapless souls stuck alongside me in a story even I couldn’t dream up on my best day. Our orders were simple, but open to considerable amounts of interpretation. Split up by swim pairs, we were placed at three places along our lines. Helena and I were put in the middle of the legion formation, right in front of the first legion’s standard.
It was Helena’s idea. I knew she wasn’t letting the whole “Mother of the Legion” deal go to her head, but most of the men would be inspired fighting alongside her. Vincent and Santino were stationed on our left flank to deal with Claudius’ crack troops. And on the right were Bordeaux and Wang. Bordeaux could probably lay waste to a third of the militia by himself if he had the chance.
Our standing orders were to march with the advancing army until a halt was called for. We would then unleash hell until the enemy was so fed up getting shot to pieces that they counter attacked. The auxilia would then charge with the enemy, hoping to meet that flank in the open area between the two armies, furthering their chances of effectively flanking the rebel Praetorians. The enemy’s charge would also trigger the claymores and antipersonnel mines, and leave them vulnerable to three volleys of pila.
Of course, we hadn’t counted on ten thousand militia being present, or seven thousand vigiles, and even if all Claudius had were his Praetorians and the urban cohorts to fight with we would still have a tough battle on our hands. This was going to be a battle of wills, and while there never were any guarantees, Caligula and Galba remained confident they’d win the day.
My mind in order, I cracked my neck and looked to my left as Caligula rode out to the front of our formation, ready to give the cliche but inspirational speech always recited before a battle. He kept it short and succinct, even though I only heard a small part of it. I’d always wondered how one man could deliver a rousing speech to an entire army and still have every man hear it. I quickly realized the answer was simple.
They didn’t.
That’s not to say that I missed out on any important part of the speech. Caligula simply rode back and forth along the line, making sure that he hit on important points, never repeated himself, and made sure everyone heard something inspirational. I heard him speak of honor and duty, and how Claudius had defied an institution that had existed long before their ancestors had overthrown the ancient kings of Rome. When he came back, he finished his speech by declaring that what occurred on the battlefield today would affect the outcome of history and that it would have ramifications hundreds of years later.
I wasn’t sure if I hoped he was right or not.
Finished with his speech, Caligula reared his horse on his hind legs, a difficult feat without stirrups, and he roused his troops with his upraised sword arm. Every man around me raised their spears in salute before pounding them against their shields, yelling at the top of their lungs. I found myself swept up in the moment and had to raise my rifle as well, yelling indecipherably. I was hard pressed to deny my urge to fire my rifle into the air. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life.
Caligula rode his horse down towards the right flank, receiving louder cheers from those he was passing, before turning back and heading towards his Praetorians. I watched him go, confidence swirling through me after his speech and gallop across the lines.
I looked over at Helena. “Not bad, huh?”
“He’s got my vote.”
“You know they don’t vote, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “I have been paying attention to your little history lessons.”
“Really? Then how do you explain the snoring?”
“I’m awake for most of it,” she argued. “You just need to pick a better time to start lecturing than when I’m trying to fall asleep.” She paused. “I don’t snore.”
“Yah. Sure you don’t,” I told her with a chuckle.
She attempted a response, but was cut off by a chorus of legionary horns, sounding off in tandem. Just before the march order was bellowed, I leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.
“Remember,” I told her. “No getting hurt. I’m too lazy to carry you around all the time.”
She looked up at me, a look that suggested she wanted to punch me again, but her expression betrayed her true feelings. She didn’t want to offer the loving gesture she reserved only for me because she knew it could be the last. If she did it, she would go into battle with that thought in the back of her mind. She tried to force a smile instead, turning to face the awaiting horde.