shield.
I massaged the spot where the spear impacted, but it didn’t help. I would have a bruise the size of a soccer ball on my chest tomorrow, but I couldn’t complain. Without my vest, I would have been skewered.
Our fourth line let loose a small barrage that caught some of the enemy off guard. Both sides continued to exchange spears, casting and cowering, causing casualties here or there. I’d always imagined this part of a battle to be more exciting, with waves of spears cutting down hundreds of onrushing barbarians. Instead, we had battle hardened and disciplined Praetorians to deal with. Once the enemy cast their final volley of pila, they followed hot on the heels of their charges, and rushed forward.
The legion’s third and fourth line still had one last pila volley left. While only the third line loosed their spears, it did the most amount of damage to the speeding Praetorians. Helena and I added our own fire power, concentrating it on only a small fraction of Claudius’ horde. We aimed towards a group headed in the directions of a cohort we knew to be under strength.
That small fragment of the enemy faltered, forty or so men falling to our combined fire, while many behind them tripped and fell over their dying comrades. The 6th cohort was rewarded with the arrival of disorderly Praetorians. They held their ground and cut the first men to reach them to pieces. It was a minor victory, hopefully one of many that would help turn the tide of the battle.
The rest of the legion’s first line of half-cohorts did not fare as well. Thousands of Praetorians smashed into them, and immediately began systematically pushing them back. Within minutes, the weight of the enemy force had pushed the first line back enough that the checkerboard was collapsing.
It was rare that a plan actually worked on the first try, but Claudius took the bait. Galba wanted the checkerboard formation to fall in on itself. When the rebels smashed into the first line their momentum stopped. Our second line, now only ten yards from the enemy Praetorians, rushed into the small gaps, counter charging the now preoccupied enemy. It clogged the holes with bodies, and allowed Galba an easier time of sending reserve forces from the third and fourth lines to help where needed.
On our left flank, Caligula’s men were still holding back the enemy along our original line. Those forces engaged over there were more equally skilled, and would have to endure a slugging match, while over here, Galba and Nisus would feint, counter attack, and maneuver small units wherever they thought them needed, in the typical legion fashion.
Helena and I waited for no such orders, and we found ourselves weaving our way through the battle at random. Running back and forth across our lines, my feet burned and my bruised chest heaved, but we had to play little Dutch boy to the legion’s leaks. So far we’d only taken pot shots at the occasional target, but many more targets of opportunity were beginning to present themselves.
Nisus’ plan for us to use our grenades was fruitless at this point. The lines had collapsed much too quickly. There were only a select few areas where we could do some damage. The Praetorians were just better soldiers. They easily drove wedges between our cohort halves and thrust men continuously through our lines.
Had Helena and I not been there they would have succeeded in some instances. Communication was essential, and when I heard a shout that there was a breach in the 2nd cohort’s formation on the legion’s left flank, I made my way in that direction, Helena beside me. We passed the 6th and 4th cohort along the way, each holding their own well enough, but when I saw the 2nd, I quickly assessed that the breach was more like a flood Noah himself would have trouble handling.
Right down the center, between the two cohort haves were waves of Praetorians bubbling inwards towards the third line. Nisus was just about to send in a reserve force when he noticed us, and held back his orders, waiting to see what we would do first.
I started the party off with a grenade that I tossed deep into enemy lines, far enough to keep our legionnaires unaffected. I set my weapon to fully automatic and started walking towards the Praetorians like a British red coat during the American Revolution. Helena was right beside me as we fired into their ranks, inching closer and closer with every slow step. We started with the edges, concentrating our fire on the Praetorians closest to our allies, before sweeping towards the center, overlapping our fire, and working again towards the outer edge. When the grenade went off, we had effectively killed every man trying to push through the bulge, and the respite gained from the explosion was enough for the 2nd cohort to fuse their lines together again.
I saw a century from the 3rd cohort in reserve take up position behind the 2nd’s last line, to help alleviate the tension there. I knew the key to a legion’s success was their mobility and versatility, but seeing it in action was extraordinarily impressive. That century could have done what Helena and I had, but it would have taken far longer, and cost both cohorts more men. Now, they were in the perfect position to strengthen the position.
Our task fulfilled, I looked around for another breach, but couldn’t find a one, so I made my way back to Nisus’ position. We had to be careful because our lines were very slowly being pushed back. We didn’t want to risk a random sword thrust in our direction. Casualties were streaming in at this point, but we were holding strong on the left, as was the 10th on the right. Our formation was actually enveloping the enemy bit by bit, just as Hannibal’s had at the battle of Cannae. While he’d feigned his center’s weakness to draw the Roman attackers inside his lines to surround them, our center was in fact weaker, and we wouldn’t be able to turn the tables as easily as he had.
Nisus had a smile on his face as we jogged back to the 1st cohort’s standard.
“It’s good to see you can actually deliver in a fight,” he said. “Honestly, I had my doubts, but no more.”
“Join the club,” I muttered in English, glancing back at Galba, who still sat on his horse doing his best to maintain tactical command of the entire legion, leaving the small stuff to his centurions.
Helena and I waited patiently. A few minutes passed. I was getting restless.
Finally, I heard my radio crackle to life in my ear.
“Hunter, this is Bordeaux.”
I pressed the PTT button. “Go ahead, Jeanne. How goes the fight on your end?”
“It’s going,” he replied, strain evident in his voice even over the radio, “but I think you should know that I can see some serious enemy troop movement occurring on your right flank. I’d inform that asshole centurion that he might want to reinforce the right.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the update. I’ll let him know. Hunter, out.”
Since the day we first arrived in camp, Nisus had treated us the same as his general had, with distant mistrust and apprehension. Bordeaux probably had more reason to be annoyed with him than the rest of us. During a training exercise, Nisus, more than a foot shorter than the hulking Frenchman, had knocked Bordeaux unconscious when he whacked him on the temple with the blunt side of his gladius. The big guy had been out for an hour. Bordeaux had not been happy, and hadn’t had a nice thing to say about the centurion since.
“Centurion,” I said, directing my attention to Nisus. “I would send some troops to the right. Immediately. The enemy is maneuvering in that direction.”
Nisus’ look betrayed nothing as he stared at me. “And how could you possibly know that? If you will, please leave command of this army to me.”
I was about to tell the smaller man off and inform him just how lucky he was to have our help, when I saw a runner approaching quickly from the right.
“Sir,” the man panted. “The 5th has been breached and the 10th is floundering. The enemy is pushing hard on the right.”
Nisus looked at me and I gave him a condescending smile, while Helena, who had overheard our interchange, shook her head and tsked him. To the man’s credit, he looked me in the eye and grunted a brief acknowledgment before turning inwards, thinking over the strategic situation.
“Gods,” Nisus mumbled. “Issue the command for the entire 9th cohort to support both positions. Also, detach a century from the 3rd to find out what in the name of Mercury is happening with the auxilia. Clear it with the Legate first.”
“I obey, Centurion,” the man replied, saluting.
So much for Hannibal, then. No wonder things had seemed so calm. The Praetorians had been feigning along the entirety of our line while they were simultaneously busy maneuvering the rest of their troops to the right.
I’d barely started inching my way in that direction when I felt Nisus’ strong grip on my arm. “No, my friend. That is not your fight. My men can handle it. We’ll need you soon enough elsewhere.”
I nodded, bowing to his authority.