Final Campaign

he understood, then left to bring his men down while Iturned back to the fighting. Squeezing themselves in between thefighting Centuries, the Cohorts of the 8th had been forced toreduce their front to a half section wide, effectively reducing theimpact of their attack. I watched them move, catching sight of afamiliar tall, lean figure wearing the transverse crest, leadinghis men to the fight. I fought the urge to call out to him, knowingthat not only would it shame Gaius, it would distract him at animportant moment. Like any good Centurion, he was at the head ofhis Century, and while I took pride in the fact that he had managedto bring his Century, the last of the Seventh, into position to hitthe Thracians first, it also meant he would be in the most danger.I almost could not bear to watch, yet I forced myself to keep mygaze straight ahead, watching the fighting with an impassive face.I saw Gaius waving his sword above his head, and I was pleased tosee that he had chosen to snatch a shield from one of the fallenmen before he met his first opponent. Then he was lost to sight,his men crowding around him. After that, all that could be seen wastheir backs and the occasional flash of a blade when a man used anoverhand stroke to dispatch a foe. This was the crucial moment ofthe fight; if the Thracian reserve managed to hold these twoCohorts back, I would have to contemplate sounding the withdrawalto save the 13^th to fight another day. The second linehad been pushing the Thracians close to the breaking point, but thearrival of their reserves had stiffened their resolve, bringingthings again to a standstill. Moments passed with no discerniblechange in the state of the battle, even with the addition of thetwo Cohorts of the 8^th.

Finally, I sensed more than saw a slightripple in the Thracian line, a small wavering of spirit perhaps, orone of their leaders falling, except I did not hear the usual howlof despair when such an event occurred. Whatever the cause, all ofthe battles I had participated in over so many years had taught meto recognize that shivering hesitation in the enemy. I turnedimmediately to Caldus, snapping out the order to send in thecavalry, in wedge formation, and Caldus did a heartbeat later. Ifelt the ground shaking when Libo gave the command to begin thecharge, going immediately to the gallop, and I turned to watch themflow down the hill towards me. I put Ocelus into a trot, alsoheading downhill to enable me to shout instructions to Libo, whowas the point of the wedge. Once he drew abreast, I shouted outwhere exactly I wanted him to aim, pointing to a well-built,heavily armored Thracian wielding a curved sword, a man holding abanner decorated with the picture of a prancing horse on itstanding immediately behind him. Clearly a man of some importance,probably the leader of at least one of the tribes, he had takencommand of the Thracian reserve that was stopping our advance. Ispotted Scipio near the front about two rows back, relieved to seeScribonius by his side, their faces a study in contrast; Scipiosmiling broadly, too excited in the moment of the charge to beafraid, Scribonius grim-faced, knowing that what was to come wasbeyond anything the young Tribune had ever imagined, and not in agood way.

I had ordered the wedge for two reasons;first, to exploit that hesitation I had seen by a pinpoint attack,and second, to lessen the impact on our own men fighting on theground. Sending a cavalry charge into a packed line of fighting menis in some ways more dangerous for one’s own side than it is forthe enemy, because the Legions are fighting with their backs turnedto the oncoming horse. This is yet another job of the Optio, to payattention to the cornu and bucina calls and to alerttheir Centuries of what is happening to the rear, whether it is arelieving line, or an oncoming cavalry charge. Shouting thewarning, the men of the Century were alerted by their Optio just intime to leap aside as Libo and his troopers came pounding through.Unfortunately, the men currently engaged could not do so, lest theybe cut down by their Thracian opponents, meaning that instead, theywere going to be run down by their own mounted comrades.Unfortunately, it could not be helped. The fact that it wasinevitable did not lessen my horror as I realized an instant beforeLibo slammed into the thin line of Legionaries that one of the menin that line was a tall, lean Centurion, facing the front andfighting furiously. Then the sight of him was swallowed up by themass of horseflesh slamming into the Thracian line.

“Noooooo!”

I heard the cry, clearly recognizing theanguish and despair in it, yet was only dimly aware that it camefrom my throat. I savagely kicked Ocelus in the ribs, the suddengoad causing him to give a great leap forward. With longground-eating strides, he closed the gap to where the rearmost partof Libo’s troopers were still milling about, waiting to pushthrough the gap created by the charge. I barely registered thesight of the remnants of the Thracian cavalry that had beenwithdrawn a short distance behind their lines, rejoining the fightin a desperate attempt to stop Libo and his men, creating amaelstrom of man and horse. The screams of men and animals createda noise that drowned out any attempts at giving commands orcommunicating in any way except by horn, but I had left Caldusbehind. Even if I had been so inclined, there was no command Icould have given at this point, the fighting now at its feveredpeak. The Thracians knew that their defeat was imminent and, incontrast, our men sensed the victory within their grasp, yet I wasinsensible to all of this as I savagely shoved men aside, usingOcelus’ greater size to wedge himself into the mass of horsemen whowere too slowly moving into the breach.

“Get out of the way or I’ll flay all ofyou,” I snarled, grabbing men roughly by whatever I could grab holdof to push them