Final Campaign

command, but I only saw theOptio, who was even then engaged in a desperate fight. Where wasthe Centurion? I wondered, but there was no time for me to continuemy search because as I watched, the group of Moesians, now threemen less, was even then withdrawing back out of the middle of ourformation. That was when I understood that their goal was not totry and break the orbis; one of the Moesians was holding thestandard aloft, and even from where I sat on Ocelus I could hearhis shout of triumph over the fighting. This celebration almostundid him, because hearing the Moesian, some of the Legionariesturned to see one of the worst fates that can befall a RomanCentury happening and, without waiting for orders, left their spotsupporting their comrades to dash across the orbis. Even asthey did this, without thinking, I kicked Ocelus, heading himaround the fighting in an attempt to cut the Moesian off. It wasone of my more foolish decisions, because almost immediately I wassurrounded by more spearmen, hemming me in as they tried to jab atOcelus, who reared and twisted about while emitting what I can onlydescribe as a bellow of rage. In the space of perhaps a half-dozenheartbeats, I was completely surrounded, all thought of trying toretrieve the standard gone as I realized that I was in mortaldanger.

If this fight had happened five yearsearlier, there would have been no way for me to do what I did andstill stay on Ocelus' back. But I had become a better than averagehorseman, not in the class of a Caesar, but perhaps as good asMarcus Antonius. There were two reasons for this; the first wasbecause I had come to enjoy riding Ocelus a great deal, and alongwith my daily exercises with my sword, I rarely missed a day whereI did not take him for a ride. And as my confidence progressed, sotoo did the things I was willing to attempt with him, so thatrarely a ride went by without jumping at least one fence. However,I think the biggest and most important reason was that Ocelus and Ihad formed a bond of mutual and absolute trust. It is hard for meto explain this, because I had never experienced anything like itwith an animal before, and I came to this experience late in life.We knew each other in a way that allowed me at that moment, on thebanks of the Sava, to let go of his reins and reach for my longestand best friend, my Gallic sword that was still strapped to mysaddle. While it was slightly awkward in my left hand, it was notcompletely foreign to me; for many years, I had devoted perhaps aquarter of my daily exercises to using my blade left-handed. Whatdid make it more cumbersome was that damn leather sling I wore toprotect my little finger, but I had five years of practice with it,so I barely noticed it. Gripping Ocelus with every bit of strengthI had in my thighs, it also helped me feel the movement of hismuscles and allowed me to anticipate which way he was going toturn, so that between his sudden movements and lashing hooves, andmy two blades, one on each side, we managed to not only keep theMoesians at bay, but punish the few who tried to penetrate ourdefenses. With a sudden movement, dropping his head and shiftinghis weight onto his front legs, I felt Ocelus launch a powerfulback kick with both hooves, both of them connecting with somethingsolid, although I did not know if it was just one Moesian or two.At that moment, I was more concerned by the fact that I was nowfacing straight down at the ground, over Ocelus' lowered neck, andI felt the grip of my thighs slipping. Before I lost the saddle,however, he righted himself, just in time for me to see an enemyspear lunging at me from the right, at the very edge of my vision.Throwing myself backward, I saw the spear punch right past my chestand, now that my head had turned in that direction, I saw that theMoesian had overextended himself, with one arm fully outstretchedin his attempt to stab me from the side. My spatha was belowmy waist, but I put as much power as I could into an upward stroke,and was rewarded by the sight of not only a severed arm, but aspear shaft sliced into two parts, the head of it clattering intomy lap before falling to the ground. Even as I recovered from thisblow, Ocelus was spinning to the left to reach his long neck out toclamp his teeth onto the shaft of another spear that had justmissed his head. I was no longer surprised when my horse didsomething like this, and I was struck by the stray thought that itwas in fact at Naissus that I had seen him do it the first time.Because of Ocelus' movement, it was natural for me to continueturning my head to the left, just in time to see a man dartingtowards Ocelus' rear quarter. This man was not carrying a spear;instead, he carried a curved Thracian sword, but I instantly sawthat I was not the target. He was going to try and hamstring myhorse, except that between his angle of attack and the fact that myGallic blade was the short, Spanish style sword, I knew I could notreach him, at least in time to stop him.

It was more out of despair than any hopethat I shouted, "Ocelus, behind you!"

When I get into Charon's Boat to take mylast ride, it will still be with the belief that my beautifulOcelus, my wonderful champion, understood exactly what I wassaying, because once again he dropped his head, but with only oneleg this time, launched another kick. Since I was still lookingover my shoulder, I was able to see his hoof hit the Moesiansquarely in the face, which seemed to explode in a scarlet showerof blood, snot, and teeth. What was the most impressive is how farhe flew backward, his body smashing into the two men immediatelybehind him,