the legate.”
Galronus nodded.
“I appreciate that, but the matter is of some urgency.”
Rusca glanced past him at the dismounted cavalry, their mounted comrades riding alongside them as they descended on the gate.
“If it’s serious, take the Second and Fourth centuries. Their centurions are over by the gate.”
Galronus nodded and gave a half-hearted salute, handing his horse’s reins to a legionary and striding across to the centurions.
“You two have been assigned to me for a short time.”
The centurions shared a surprised glance and saluted as the cavalry began to arrive.
“Alright” the officer addressed his mixed force. “We have a rogue leader somewhere in the oppidum, likely trying to break out and make for the mountains. He has a fanatically loyal guard of some six hundred men. If we can get them to surrender without a fight, all to the good, but whatever happens, they don’t leave the settlement except under our guard. We’re going inside and each time we pass a side street, I want mixed parties of legionaries, horsemen and dismounted cavalry to clear the area. You know your ground tactics better than I, but six hundred men should not be hard to find. They can hardly hide in a house.”
The centurions saluted and turned to the cornicen and signifers nearby, calling out their orders.
Galronus gazed through the gate at the broad street beyond. At least this place was small.
The oppidum was even smaller inside than Galronus had expected, the streets forming roughly concentric circles around a central square, with major thoroughfares crossing them and leading from the centre toward the gates, curving and bending as necessary to make their way around structures that had been present before the road system was formed.
It was unusual in Gaulish settlements, but Galronus had seen similar forms before. At some time in the recent decades, fire must have ravaged the oppidum and the town had been rebuilt with more spacious streets in an almost Roman style, allowing for the buildings that had survived the catastrophe to remain.
Whether that was the cause of the layout or not, Galronus was thankful of it. Sweeping the streets of the town with his troops had been made considerably easier by the simple shape they took. Here and there they had come across groups of tribesmen who were making for the main gate to comply with the legate’s terms, though already most of the population had left.
It had taken less than half an hour to sweep most of the settlement clear and now, as the entire scattered force began to join up once again, closing in on the remaining section of town, Galronus was beginning to wonder whether he had been the victim of a strange trick.
His doubts were assuaged, however, as the cavalryman at the front of his small force was suddenly plucked from his saddle and thrown with a shriek against the squat, timber wall of the house behind him.
Before the cry of alarm went up, more arrows struck, peppering the mixed force. Half a dozen men had fallen before the legionaries filtered through the mass to the front, raising their heavy shields and forming a barrier to the deadly hail.
Galronus ran forward, waving a signal to the cavalry officer ahead. While the mounted troops were good for searching the streets and chasing down survivors, they would be of precious little use in harsh fighting at street level. Responding instantly to his orders, the officer called to his men and they raced on past the side street from which the arrows had issued before dismounting and hurriedly finding something to which to tie their reins so they could fall in on foot and join the fight.
Arrows continued to pound the shields of the legionaries as Galronus appeared between the dismounted cavalry and peered round the corner.
The street was seething with men. The Remi commander’s sharp eyes picked out the four important facets of the enemy force in moments. The near side was formed of perhaps a hundred men with spears and bows, defending the rear of Adcantuannus’ soldurii. Far ahead, he could see another smaller group of perhaps fifty or so men making for the postern gate at the end of the road, a plausible route to escape the city. The leader himself was clearly distinguishable, gleaming in bronze and gold, toward the far end of the street with half a dozen burly men around him. The last group that made up the force were the bulk of the ‘soldurii’ gathered at the centre, close by their leader and ready to fight or flee depending upon the circumstances.
Galronus frowned.
This street was a side street that shouldn’t lead to a gate. He’d been round the periphery of the oppidum earlier and marked the location of all the gates with his forces.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to one of the legionaries, crouching behind his large shield in the third row.
“Give me that!”
The soldier relinquished his shield unhappily and shuffled closer to the man beside him and Galronus mimicked the stance of a defending legionary, hunkering down behind his shield as he squeezed his way through the crowd and out to the front.
As he reached open space, he risked glancing over the rim and immediately ducked back as two arrows thudded into the wood and leather.
“Adcantuannus!”
There was a pause during which the only sound was the occasional thud of arrows against shields and then slowly the firing stopped. Galronus risked another look. The archers stood ready with their arrows nocked, tensing.
“What is it, Roman?”
With a smile, Galronus switched to his native tongue.
“There is nowhere to go, Adcantuannus. The cavalry have you penned in outside. I have more than twice your number here…” a lie, though the man couldn’t know, “and your countrymen are being treated with honour and care. Stop this madness while you can.”
The warrior with the gleaming bronze helm appeared above the crowd, standing high on something unseen. He stood silent for a long moment as, not far behind him, the advance group of warriors had unbarred the gate and were heaving it open.
Adcantuannus turned, gesturing expansively with his outstretched arm. Galronus couldn’t see too much detail but would be willing to bet that the man was grinning.
“See, Roman, how we have a secret exit, unseen from without. Your troops will not be on us before we melt into the landscape and disappear. You will see us again, though, soon enough.”
Galronus smiled.
“I fear you are mistaken, my chief.”
As the gate swung open, a roar erupted outside. The Remi officer couldn’t see past the occupants of the street, but that battle cry from the unseen force beyond the gate was all too familiar to the man who had taught it to the auxilia. Somehow, though
The roar died away, but not the noise, as the cavalry’s voices were replaced by the ground-shaking thunder of their hooves. Galronus almost chuckled as he could see, at the far end of the street, the warriors desperately forcing the gate shut once again, panicked urgency gripping them.
Adcantuannus turned back to him.
“We will still take the head of every man here before we fall.”
Galronus ground his teeth. What was it with these lunatics? There was everything to be said for pride, bravery and honour, but to throw oneself away in the face in hopeless odds was far more suicidal than brave.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped the shield.
He could almost hear the strain of the bows as the archers fought their own instincts to fire.
“Adcantuannus? Don’t be wasteful and short sighted. If Rome is destined to take Aquitania, then the sacrifice of your soldurii will do little to prevent it, other than leaving your wives alone and your children fatherless. If this gathering of warriors in the mountains is destined to stop us, then they can do it without you and the soldurii will still be here when we are gone.”
He sighed.
