Final Campaign

hundred Moesians descended on them fromwhere they had been hiding. The Century cornicen managed toblow the notes that signaled an attack before he was struck down,and I kicked Ocelus immediately, my horse going to the gallop soquickly that I was forced to reach for his mane. I heard the hoovesof the others in the command group behind me, and we went poundingtoward the crossing, speeding by the leading Cohort of the mainbody, their Centurions even then bawling out orders for them tochange from column to line. I shouted at the Pilus Prior of theCohort to send his men across the ford immediately to support theCentury. Ocelus galloped by, only slowing at the edge of the river,primarily because I was pulling on his reins. It was not that I washesitant to go splashing across the river, but I was tooexperienced to go plunging into a situation where I did not have agood idea of what was happening. The same cannot be said for theTribunes who, despite my shouted warning, went galloping into theriver in a fantastic spray of water that almost completely obscuredthem.

"Stupid bastards," I muttered, irritatedthat in their eagerness to prove their valor, they were blocking myview of the overall situation.

It was not lost on me that they understoodthat this was their last chance at glory, but I had more on my mindthan enhancing the record of a group of nobles, who would in alllikelihood, be leaving the army when we got back to Siscia. In amatter of a few heartbeats, what had already been noisy became evenmore so, as the shouts of the Tribunes slashing down at theirtargets, along with the clanging sound of their swords adding tothe din. I do not know if I am the only one, but I have alwaysfound it difficult to concentrate when the noise level is so loud,and quickly I realized that I would have to cross to get a betteridea of what was happening. Ocelus did not hesitate when I gave hima kick, and we went splashing through the river and up the otherbank, plunging right into the middle of a fierce fight. TheCenturion in command of the vanguard Century had managed to get hismen into an orbis, as the numerically superior Moesians cameflowing around the smaller formation. Before I reached their side,I thought to pull my spatha, still the same sword thatMarcus Crassus had given to me as a gift. Aiming for a group ofMoesian spearmen who had swung around to attack the orbisfrom another side and, in doing so, had turned their back to theriver. Ocelus needed no urging. He slammed into their midst,sending two men flying forward, one of whom ended up stabbing oneof his comrades in the back with his own spear, while I slasheddown at a third man who was just turning as Ocelus' head came intothe edge of his vision. The Moesian was just trying to raise hisspear when my blade caught him in the middle of his helmet, barelystopping my spatha as it split it in two, along with theupper part of his skull. I barely had time to wrench out the bladebefore my horse had penetrated all the way up to where the line ofLegionaries stood, their javelins poking out as they jabbed them atthe Moesians. Pulling on the reins, I barely managed to turn Ocelusin time, but even for a large horse, he was very agile, and he spunabout so that his flank was parallel to the Century. Fortunately, Ihad remembered to turn him to the right, so that my sword offeredsome protection from the Moesians, but they seemed more interestedin scattering out of the way of my horse. Nevertheless, I cut andhacked my way out of the danger, managing to score at least onemore serious blow to a man that was not quite quick enough dodgingout of the way.

Galloping Ocelus a short distance away, Ispun him about to take stock of the situation, which was now evenmore difficult because of the dust raised by the combination offeet and hooves. Sensing more than seeing, I decided that theTribunes were actually managing themselves well, staying togetherin a tight knot and using their horseflesh to give the men of theCentury some breathing room. Unfortunately, the Century's formationwas disintegrating on the side farthest away from where I was, andI could see several bodies lying in the middle of the formationwhere they had been dragged out of the way by their comrades. Inthe middle of the orbis was their signifer, rightwhere he was supposed to be, but I did not immediately see theCenturion. It was a complete and utter mess of a fight, and even inthe space of time I watched, I saw a group of perhaps a dozenMoesians exploit the spot on the other side where there were nomore Legionaries to step into the line, heading directly for thesignifer, who stood over the wounded, holding his standardat the ready. The Roman standard is made of very stout ash, with aniron tip at the ground end, both for making it easy to stab intothe ground, but also for what I saw the signifer begin todo, shoving it hard right into the chest of the most eager of theattacking Moesians. Before he could recover, however, three morewarriors swarmed around him and I saw an arm draw back so that Icaught just a glimpse of the dull silvery-gray of the spearhead ashe drove it deep into the signifer's side. I let out a shoutof helpless rage and I was not alone, as the men currently onrelief, holding onto the back of the man ahead of them, had turnedto see the threat to their standard. Even worse, the remainingMoesians who had not attacked the signifer wasted no time inkilling the wounded men, although one of the men lying on theground managed to take a Moesian with him by grabbing onto thespear that had just been thrust into his chest and making his ownthrust up into the gut of the Moesian. I looked wildly around theorbis, trying to find someone in