The scouts Lucius had sent out had returned and begun to fill him in on the disposition of the surrounding enemy force. The Dacians, according to the scouts, were having trouble regaining the upper hand on the century they’d worked so hard to trap.
“Our people are boxed up here,” the scout said, drawing a square in the dirt showing the Roman formation. “They’ve been mauled pretty good, but they’re holding out. I couldn’t get a clear view of the Dacians for a precise count; there’s probably about a hundred or more. They have a small force of archers stationed here and here. Looks like mixed force of bows and those Greek bows on a stick, what are they called?”
“Gastraphetes?” Lucius supplied. He wondered if that’s how the Dacians had taken out his officers. The gastraphetes had a long range and a flatter flight arc. In the hands of a skilled user, it made for a powerful ranged attack.
“I didn’t see any horsemen, and we were thorough in our area sweep.”
“Very good. Quirinus, take your horses around and sweep through their archers here,” Lucius pointed at one group of enemy archers. “Hannibal, you take your archers and station them along the tree line. When Quirinus hits the first group of archers, you fire on the second group.” He drew a line between where his cavalry and archers were. “We’ll line up here, three deep, and present maximum frontage. Cassius, take the right side of the second line. Petrocles, you take the left side of the third line.”
“Lucius, you might need this.” Cassius tossed Lucius something.
He caught it and opened his hands to see the centurion’s whistle.
“I figured it might come in handy. He wasn’t going to need it anymore,” Cassius shrugged. “I wiped off the blood.”
“Thanks,” Lucius said wryly. “Tell your lines to listen for the usual signals so we can keep them fresh. Any questions?”
Nobody responded. Lucius pulled out a leather thong from his pouch and strung the whistle around his neck.
“Alright, let’s keep silent until the cavalry makes contact. That’s our signal to advance.”
They nodded and moved out. The cavalry looped back through the woods, setting up in a small spur of trees closer to the first group of enemy archers. Lucius organized his three lines while his archers set up on the right. Lucius put the centurion’s whistle to his lips and did his best to make it sound like a bird call.
The cavalry burst out of the woods, congealing into a loose battle line. Word was passed among the archers to nock and ready. Lucius raised his pilum and pointed forward. The legionnaires stepped out of the woods. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched his archers raise their bows as the cavalry neared impact.
The Dacian archers could do little as the cavalry sheared through their light armor; their bows had been rendered useless against the weight of the horses and the steel of their riders. The thrum of bows releasing their arrows filled the air as the other group of archers began falling from Roman arrows finding their marks.
Lucius blew the command to start their attack. He broke into a trot, a raucous battle cry rising from his men as they sped toward the Dacians. They were eager to relieve their comrades and rout the enemy. When he judged they were close enough, Lucius launched his pilum. A few of his men’s light pila, fearing they’d overthrow and hit their own men, came up short. Lucius weapon however drove into the back of a Dacian warrior; he had judged his distance right. He launched the heavy pilum into the air and drew his gladius, breaking into a run.
At the sight of reinforcements, the other century renewed their efforts and began shoving the Dacians back. When Lucius’s front line smashed into the rear of the Dacians, the two groups of Romans turned the Dacians into mincemeat. The enemy forces were herded into the shields and short swords of the Romans and panicked when they couldn’t find any route to escape.
Lucius raised the whistle to his lips and signaled a line shift. Each man in his line tucked to the right and let the legionnaire behind him take his place at the front. The fresher line of Romans let the Dacians have it. Holding the centurion’s spot in the front of the line, Lucius stepped back for a moment to catch his breath and survey the situation.
His cavalry had finished off the archers and were slashing into the rear of the Dacians, effectively capping Lucius’s left flank. Roman archers had worked their way up out of the tree line and were picking off targets of opportunity. He blew his whistle again to signal a line shift. The third line stepped forward as the second line worked its way to the back. As the last of the Dacians fell, the other century collapsed its box formation and surged against the remaining Dacians.
Lucius signaled a right wheel and got his men swinging to the end of the line so they could curl up the right flank. As they smashed into the side of the remaining Dacians, he watched his lines wrap around the back of the enemy formation. With the Dacians outflanked, their defeat was a fait accompli. The Dacians who’d been giving no quarter asked for none, falling to the last man.
As the last Dacian fell, the two centuries spared a moment to celebrate—backs were patted, hugs exchanged, and tired cheers raised. Lucius hoped to spot an officer, when he saw a centurion leaning between two of his legionnaires. Limping toward them, the man was avoiding putting any weight on a bloodied leg.
He walked up to Sego, who was still holding their Centurial Signum. “Legionnaire, where’s your centurio?”
“Dead, sir.”
“Optio?”
“Unconscious when we left him, sir.”
“Who’s in charge here?”
“I guess I am, Centurio,” Lucius answered. “Decanus Lucius Silvanius, sir.” Lucius gave him a crisp salute.
“You’ve done a good job here today, son.”
“Thank you, Centurio.”
“Any word from the rest of the cohort?”
Lucius turned to his closest friend, who had worked his way over to listen in. “Cassius, can you get that cavalryman? Quirinus is his name.” He turned back to address the centurion. “Yes, sir. A force of Dacians attacked us and wiped out my centuria’s officers. After we fought them off, Alaris Quirinus found us back at the camp and relayed the situation. That’s how we knew where to find you.”
Cassius returned with Quirinus, who filled the centurion in on the last known positions of their vexillation.
“Thank you, Alaris Quirinus. Gather a few men and see if you can get close enough to get some updated intelligence on their disposition.”
“Yes, Centurio,” Quirinus replied as he saluted and turned to carry out his mission.
“So, the only one left was a leader of a contubernium, Decanus?”
“Well, Centurio, it was either fight or die. Everyone kept listening to my orders, so I kept issuing them. When Alaris Quirinus showed up, my comrades said I was in charge…”
“And so here you are, leading an underpowered centuria. What are you? Eighteen?”
“Almost twenty, Centurio.”
The centurio shook his head. “Well, your men keep following you and following you well. See to your injured, and get your mem ready to march out as soon as the scouts get back.” He yelled back over his shoulder, “Tesserarius, what’s the butcher’s bill?”
A broad man with a hook bill nose trotted up. “Not good, Centurio. I think we can effectively put forty, maybe forty-five men in the field. We’re still sorting out the wounded from the dead.”
Lucius walked off to carry out his orders. The centurion’s compliments were nearly enough to buoy his tired limbs. He walked over to Sego and Cassius. “Any injured? Dead?”
“No, we made it through pretty clean. A scratch here, a stubbed toe there. One of the alaris took a fall from his horse. I think he’ll be fine, but he’s seeing double right now,” replied Cassius.
“Alright, pass the word. Get some water and get some rest. As soon as the centurio gives the word, we’re marching out again to see if we can relieve the cohort.” Lucius walked over and informed his auxilia cavalry and archers to rest and prepare for the final push, before stopping to rest himself.
Lucius awoke when Cassius kicked the bottom of his caligae. “Up, Lucius. The centurio is looking for you. The scouts are back.”
Lucius took Cassius’s offered hand and stood. “Thanks, Cass.”
He marched over to the centurion to get his orders, expecting to be folded into the other century to combine both of smaller forces. He was surprised to hear that he’d be leading his century, while the tesserarius would lead the other. The wounded centurion had confiscated the horse of the injured alaris, enabling him to give the final orders when they reached the rest of the cohort.
Lucius got his legionnaires, cavalry, and archers in their marching line. They’d been scrounging the ground for Dacian arrows and pila that weren’t too badly bent. While they’d waited, they’d replaced the wooden pins that joined wooden shaft and iron shank and were designed to snap on impact to prevent it being picked up and thrown back. The handful of troops left behind to tend the wounded would also gather up the damaged pila to be repaired for future use.
The cavalry and archers swept the path clean of any Dacian scouts watching the rear while the two partial centuries marched as quietly as they could. They’d hoped to repeat the surprise Lucius had manufactured and hit the enemy solidly in the rear. When they got within eyeshot, they’d expected to see the Dacian’s leadership and elites separated from their main force, directing their warriors. However, when they finally found the Dacians’ standard, it was engaged in trying to rally its troops and break the box of shields. While the Dacians were fierce and dangerous warriors, they couldn’t match the professionalism and intense conditioning a legionnaire was subjected to. The Dacians must have hoped their elite warriors could crack the tough nut of the Roman shield box. Cornered, and with nowhere to flee, the Romans fought desperately.
Lucius consulted with the centurion and the tesserarius as their legionnaires fanned out into their battle line. They’d decided their initial plan would still work. The cavalry was split and stationed on the wings while the archers formed a thin line in front of the Legionnaires. The Centurion raised his hand, gaining the attention of the men, and dropped it, giving the signal to begin.
The archers opened fire, aiming short and adjusting their range to avoid overshooting into their comrades. The center of the line of legionnaires started forward in an open formation that allowed them plenty of space to move through the archers without interfering with their work. When the last legionnaires on the left and right started their movement forward, the two partial centuries formed a shallow “V” with the tip pointing at the center of the Dacians’ backs. As the first arrows landed in the back ranks, a few Dacians noticed the oncoming legionnaires and tried to get the attention of their commanders through the din of weapon on shield and cries of anger and pain.
The legionnaires picked up their pace and let loose their pila as they got within range before breaking into what they hoped would be the last charge of the day. As tired as Lucius was, he knew the rest of the cohort who’d been fighting most of the day had to be exhausted. Once pila began dropping out of the sky, a ragged cheer rose from the cohort. They found another reserve of energy and renewed their efforts to break the Dacians who’d surrounded them.
The point of the “V” slammed into the Dacians as they turned some of their forces to ready for the oncoming Romans. It didn’t help. The leading edge of the Roman formation sliced through the Dacian lines, crowding them until the fight resembled farmers harvesting a crop of corpses. As the Romans met their countrymen, each wing of the “V” broke apart and swept along the line, one century to the right and one to the left. The cavalry, who’d followed on the wings but a bit back, flared out and began picking off any Dacians who made a break for it.
With one side of the box cleared of opposition, the cohort focused on breaking the remaining lines of Dacians. What had looked like a hard fight but inevitable victory for the Dacians turned into a bad loss as anyone not engaged dropped shields and weapons and made a run for it. Those who couldn’t disentangle and run away either surrendered or died.
After they’d mopped up the remaining Dacians and disarmed their prisoners, the Romans set up a defensive perimeter and began sorting through the wounded and the dead. The remaining officers were meeting in the center. Counting the wounded centurion from the reserve century, there were three centurions and two optios left standing. When the day started, there’d been seven centurions and seven optios.
“We were starting to wonder where you were, Adalbern. Glad you could make it to the fight,” one of the centurions said.
“We got held up a bit.” Adalbern pulled off his helmet, revealing the mousy blond hair and facial features typical of a German. “If it wasn’t for Decanus Silvanius here, neither of us would be here to have this conversation.”
Lucius stepped forward and gave the lead centurion a crisp salute.
“Decanus?” the first centurion asked before addressing Lucius. “Where’s your centurio, Decanus?”
“Dead, Centurio.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“Yes, Centurio. The Dacians hit us quick, taking out the centurio, optio, signifer, and cornicen from the tree line. The optio is the only who survived.”
“Where is he?”
“Unconscious, Sir. The arrow hit his helm and knocked him out. When we left, he was still alive.”
“And you led your centuria?”
“Yes, sir. We finished off the attackers, then Alaris Quirinus alerted us to the situation here. We marched out and relieved Centurio Adalbern’s centuria, then headed here.”
“Well done, Silvanius. Looks like someone under Antoninus knows what they’re doing, although I bet that’s more Optio Brabo’s doing.”
“Where’s the Tribune, Tullius?” asked Adalbern.
“The little shit earned himself a glorious funeral when his bones make it back to Roma.” Tullius turned and spat on the ground, emphasizing his disgust.
“A lot of good legionnaires paid for that funeral with their blood. Although, everyone getting promotions because of the officers he got killed might not think too unkindly of the dearly departed tribune and his glorious ambitions,” Adalbern replied, glancing at Lucius.