The Silver Eagle

angled blades similar to those used by Thracian gladiators. Like the cavalry, most of the Indians wore no protective clothing at all. Some had leather armour and helmets and carried small, round shields. Just a few were wealthy enough to have mail or scale coats, but all were more lightly protected than the legionaries, with their heavy scuta and thigh-length chain mail. It didn’t matter.

There were at least thirty thousand of them.

The enemy numbers were bad enough, but this was not what had the Roman soldiers shifting uneasily from side to side. The low rumbling sound was not just from the men who drew ever nearer. It was being made by animals. Above the enemy ranks loomed the shapes of great, grey beasts.

Elephants.

There were dozens of them, guided by a mahout wielding a short staff topped with a sharpened hook. Each was wearing on its back a thick red fabric caparison, which was held in place by a band of leather that ran around its broad chest. Two or three archers and spearmen perched on this carpet, gripping tightly with their knees to stay in place. Every tenth beast carried a single passenger who was positioned above large drums hanging on both sides: these men’s sole purpose was to relay orders during battle. The animals’ small ears flapped from side to side as they lumbered along, giving them a deceptively gentle appearance. This contrasted with the heavy layers of moulded leather covering their heads and shoulders. To protect the mahout, a protective fan of the same material protruded upwards from the nape of the neck. As they drew nearer, it was possible to see that many of the elephants’ tusks were tipped with points or swords. A number even had spiked iron balls on chains dangling from their trunks.

They looked unassailable. Invincible. Romulus’ heart sank further, and even Brennus was dismayed; on either side of them, the legionaries looked downright terrified. The junior officers and Parthian centurions shuffled their feet uncertainly.

By now, the use of elephants in the arena was reasonably commonplace. There they killed or maimed at will. Even if he had not seen it for himself, every Roman knew of the huge beasts’ capacity to tear apart men like firewood. The Nubian king Jugurtha had used them in his fight against Rome, and no one ever forgot King Pyrrhus or the Carthaginians, enemies who had used elephants against the legions with devastating effect. It had given them a place in legend. And while Roman allies had used the great beasts alongside legionaries for many years now, most men here had never trained or fought with them.

Elephants were the ultimate battle weapon, able to smash aside almost any opposition — and the Indians knew it.

Romulus could almost sense their confidence as he watched the laughing, chattering men opposite. They were happy to delay the battle until all their forces had arrived.

Fearful muttering began in the Forgotten Legion’s ranks. Prayers and curses mingled in equal numbers. The whole pantheon of gods and goddesses were named: Jupiter, Mars and Minerva. Fortuna and Orcus. Neptune, Aesculapius and Mithras. Even Bacchus got a mention as every possible divine being was called upon. It made no difference. They were alone on the plain.

The solid lines of legionaries began to waver back and forth like reeds in the wind.

‘We’re doomed,’ shouted one.

His cry was infectious.

‘It’s Carrhae all over again!’

Fear changed at once to panic.

Romulus glanced at the terrified faces around him. Despite the cool air, they were sweating. If something was not done fast, the legionaries would flee. And if they did that, he knew exactly what would happen. The Indians would simply run riot. The plain truly would become another Carrhae.

He could see that Brennus thought the same, but neither man knew what to say to their comrades.

‘Take courage,’ shouted a familiar voice.

Heads turned in surprise.

Pushing his way through the ranks, Tarquinius emerged to stand before the frightened soldiers. Pointedly turning his back on the enemy, he held up his hands for silence.

A hush fell over the Forgotten Legion.

‘This is a long way from Italy,’ the haruspex began. ‘A whole world away.’

Nervous laughter met his comment.

‘But that does not mean you should forget who you are. Look behind you,’ he urged. ‘At the silver eagle.’

The legionaries obeyed.

‘It is watching your every move,’ Tarquinius announced loudly.

Sensing the moment’s importance, the Rays of sunlight lit up the metal bird, and the golden thunderbolt in its talons glittered and flashed. No one could fail to be impressed by its imperious stare, thought Romulus, taking heart. Even elephants could not scare the eagle.aquilifer raised his wooden pole high.

Their pride stirred, men looked to each other for reassurance.

‘You are Roman soldiers!’ Tarquinius cried. ‘Who do not run!’

This raised a ragged cheer, but many remained unconvinced.

‘What can we do against those monsters?’ shouted a man near Romulus.

‘The fucking Parthians are no use,’ said another. ‘Their mounts will be terrified.’

Uneasy murmurs met the comment. As many knew, the musty smell of elephants made horses panic. They had to be trained to accept the presence of such strange creatures.

‘We haven’t got any flaming pigs to set among them either,’ Aemilius quipped.

There was a burst of laughter from those who got the joke. One of the more successful tactics employed against the Carthaginians’ elephants had been to coat swine in grease and pitch before setting them alight and driving the screaming creatures into the enemy’s midst.

If only we had axes, thought Romulus. Another historical method used to disable the great beasts was to run underneath and hamstring them. But Tarquinius possessed the only such weapon in the Forgotten Legion.

‘We haven’t.’ Tarquinius smiled thinly. ‘But Alexander’s hoplites learned to defeat them long ago,’ he revealed. ‘Near this very spot.’

Hope appeared in some faces. Despite all her previous glories, Greece was now under Rome’s control, its formerly invincible phalanxes no match for the legions. Surely they too could equal what a conquered people had done?

‘More recently than that,’ Tarquinius went on, ‘Roman legionaries learned to fight the elephants of Carthage and beat them. Without pigs.’

‘Tell us how,’ shouted Aemilius.

Romulus and Brennus roared in agreement and a more determined air settled over the Roman soldiers.

Tarquinius looked pleased. ‘Use the long spears,’ he said. ‘Keep them bunched together. Aim at the elephants’ sensitive spots: their trunks and eyes. They won’t advance if it’s too painful to do so.’

The nearest legionaries nodded keenly.

‘And every man with pila,’ cried the haruspex, ‘yours is the most important job of all.’

The ears of those at the rear pricked up.

‘The mahouts control these beasts. They sit on the shoulders, just behind the head, and wear little or no armour. All that protects them is the fan of leather in front,’ Tarquinius explained. ‘Kill them, and the elephants will turn and flee.’

Determination began to replace some of the fear.

‘Then it’s just the rest we have to deal with,’ joked Aemilius. ‘No problem, eh?’

It was the right thing to say. Men grinned at each other, taking strength from the knowledge that they had been through hell together before. They even laughed, slapping each other on the shoulders. They accepted that death was likely, but they would not run. That was what cowards did.

High overhead, a raven croaked. It was a good omen, and everyone’s eyes lifted to the sky.

Glancing up with the rest, Romulus watched the black bird swooping through the air from behind their position, controlling its flight with astonishing precision. Its head turned, taking in the legionaries arrayed beneath it. Bizarrely, Romulus had a real sense that it was assessing the battlefield. He could not shake off the feeling.