Attila:The Scourge of God

THIRTY-EIGHT

The enemy cavalry were not able to rout the Roman infantry; standing shoulder to shoulder they formed with their shields a rigid, unyielding barricade

Procopius, History of the Wars, c. 550

With mingled pride and sadness, Aspar watched his new army file out of Marcianopolis: pride because, starting from a base consisting of the demoralized survivors of the Thracian Chersonesus, he had built a formidable force, trained and equipped to the highest standards; sadness because, in engaging the hordes of Attila, many — perhaps most — would inevitably die. Ratiaria might be in Attila’s hands, but the East’s other workshops had worked night and day to provide his men with the finest weapons and armour that Roman industry and craftmanship could produce. No soldiers of his would face battle in cheap ridge helmets and stiff scale-armour cuirasses, as worn by Western troops. Instead, they would be protected by tough yet flexible coats of chain mail, and by helmets of the superior Attic type — unchanged since Alexander’s day — complete with brow reinforcement and cheek-pieces, and with bowl and neck-guard forged from a single sheet of iron for maximum strength.

The army formed up in marching order on level ground outside the city: heavy cavalry such as the Arubian Catafractarii from the Black Sea province of Scythia; light cavalry like the Augustan Horse and First Theodosians; crack infantry units — the Fifth Macedonian Legion, the Second Thracian Cohort, the Third Diocletians, et cetera; specialist units — archers, slingers, catapult-men, doctors, armourers; the ballistae and onagri; the wagons loaded with arrows and javelins, armour, rations, and spares. Escorted by two famous palatine vexillationes, the Arcadians and Honorians, the three commanders, Arnegliscus, Aspar, and Areobindus, took their places at the head of the column. Arnegliscus raised his arm; all down the line the sonorous booming of the bucinatores’ trumpets sounded, and the army began to move. Swinging along at the regulation pace of three Roman miles per hour, it headed westwards on the Nicopolis road: towards Attila, towards destiny.

‘You’ve chosen well,’ Arnegliscus told Aspar, as the two generals looked down on the imperial dispositions from the wooded slopes on the army’s right.

‘Thank you, sir,’ acknowledged Aspar. ‘Provided our men keep their nerve and hold the line, we should be able to block the Huns’ advance — for a time, at least — and inflict heavy casualties. Realistically, that’s about the most we can hope to achieve. We haven’t the manpower for anything else.’

In the shadowy half-light of the first hour, the recently assembled units resembled black rectangular patches sewn on a grey cloak. The infantry were drawn up eight ranks deep, between high wooded ground guarding their right flank, and the River Utus¹ on their left. Heavy cavalry, mailed clibanarii and catafractarii, forming the wings, were stationed a little in front of the line, behind which were the archers, both horse and foot. Forming a protective screen several hundred yards in front of the main force were the light cavalry, mounted spearmen and scutarii with small round shields and javelins. Their job was not to try to stop the enemy but to slow its advance and cause maximum disruption, before falling back to reinforce the heavy horse. Positioned on the steep terrain on the right, wherever the ground was sufficiently level, catapults had been set up and the trees clear-felled in front of them so as not to impede the shot. Using the energy stored up in twisted hanks of sinew or hair, these formidable machines could discharge heavy bolts or round projectiles with terrific force, lethal up to several hundred yards. As an aid to aiming, painted stones marking various ranges had been sited in what would become neutral ground between the armies.

Scouts had reported that the Huns, bypassing the refortified section of the frontier in Moesia Prima, were approaching eastwards along the corridor of level land between the Danubius to the north, and the Haemus range² to the south. Here, in the neck of the corridor, in the province of Dacia Ripensis, Aspar, with the agreement of the other two generals, had chosen to confront the Huns. As Arnegliscus had implied, it was a strong position, allowing the imperial army to present a broad front to the enemy, thus utilising its manpower effectively, but with sufficient depth to provide stability. The river on the left flank, and the wooded bluffs on the right, ensured that the army could not be outflanked — always the greatest danger with the Huns. While favouring the Romans, the constricted nature of the site also prevented the Huns, who had overwhelming superiority in numbers, from deploying more than a fraction of their forces at one time.

Between the second and third hours, scouts galloped up from the west with the news that the Huns had broken camp and their van would soon be in sight. The bucinatores sounded their trumpets, and the army, which had been allowed to rest, was stood to arms. Two orderlies appeared before the army, carrying between them an improvised tribunal which they placed on the ground. Arnegliscus, the German master-commander, mounted the platform.

‘Soldiers, we shall shortly be in battle with the Huns,’ he began, speaking awkwardly, in clipped, guttural tones. ‘For many of you, it will be your first battle, and you may well be afraid, because of what you have heard about the Huns as fighters. I tell you this: you need not fear the Huns. They are savages, barbarians. A Roman is worth two of them. The only reason they have been successful so far is that there are so many of them compared to us. Well, today their numbers will count for far less. As you can see from our position, they can only bring against us at one time the same numbers with which we will oppose them. Stand firm today, and we will show the world that Attila is not invincible.’

The little speech seemed to go down well, perhaps because, lacking the rhetorical flourishes which a Roman commander would have employed in addressing his troops, it came over as honest and sincere. The soldiers showed their appreciation by beating their shields loudly with their spears.

Soon after Arnegliscus had stepped down from the tribunal, dust-clouds on the western horizon signalled the approach of the Huns. The skirmishers, having done their work, came racing back ahead of the enemy to rejoin the Roman formations. Moments later, the Hun van swept down upon the Roman line. The front held firm; confronted by a hedge of blades, at the last second the enemy riders peeled away to left and right, taking casualties from the volley of darts and javelins that arced up from the Roman ranks.

After the shock and confusion of the initial encounter, both sides settled down to a grim contest of attrition. Time after time, Hun charges against the Roman line stalled, the horses balking in face of the wicked spear-points. Meanwhile, the Roman catapults, from their high ground to the right of the line, wreaked fearful damage on the Huns. The ballistae resembled giant cross-bows, each arm being inserted into a column of sinews clamped in a frame. Cranked back with a lever-and-ratchet mechanism, when released by a trigger the bowstring discharged a heavy bolt along a groove. These projectiles, shooting downhill with tremendous force into the dense masses of Huns, sometimes skewered several bodies together, or turned horses into pain-maddened, uncontrollable liabilities. The other type of catapult, the aptly named onager or ‘kicking ass’, had an arm ending in a sling to hold a heavy ball. Also powered by twisted sinews, when wound down then released it was even more destructive, if less accurate, than the ballista; anyone struck by a lump of iron weighing twenty pounds, and travelling at enormous speed, if he was not killed outright was going to be put out of action — permanently.

The Romans’ choice of terrain denied the Huns their favourite, and winning, tactic: outflanking then encircling their opponents. Being forced to fight on the Romans’ terms on a narrow front put them at a considerable disadvantage; their strengths of speed, mobility, and firepower, were comparatively ineffective against a shield-wall maintained by armoured men, who could be attacked only from the front. And successive charges by the Roman heavy horse, invulnerable in mail, cut bloody swathes through their van, leaving heaps of dead and dying men and horses to impede others trying to attack the Roman front. Roman archers, too, shooting in safety from behind the rear rank, took a steady toll, as did the volleys of darts and javelins which the pedites, constantly supplied by runners bringing replenishments from the wagons, were able to maintain.

But the constant sleet of Hun arrows slowly began to thin the Roman ranks. Perhaps only one arrow in twenty found a mark, but so heavy and unremitting was the barrage that the casualty rate crept up inexorably. As gaps appeared, the file-closers pushed men up from behind to fill them, causing the Roman line to narrow dangerously from eight ranks, to six, to four. . Sensing the situation was becoming critical, Arnegliscus removed his