XXNN - The Thick Of It
Alfos
looked at the raging battle and quickly realised that he couldn’t waste time
fighting man to man personally, he had to give commands to others to do so in
his place. Commands that would save more lives than he was taking by his hand
to hand fighting. He looked at his leg wound, it had partially healed over, the
blood had congealed into a flaky rouge smear. In the distance the trebuchet
were relentlessly smashing their back lines where they stood and occasionally
hitting some of the outer defences, but they were well defended and could not
so easily be reached. There were craters behind where the huge rocks had
fallen. At this time the Heavy Horse were making headway through the Italia
right flank and the groups of chariots holding their own against the infantry
and cavalry. With the help of surrounding civilian foot soldiers they were
pushing the enemy back. Italia fell back, but in a co-ordinated way, not in
panic or disarray. They did not run as they all had their places, in a
particular position. There was a structure which protected them held together
by strictness and ultimate discipline. Alfos saw that even their retreat was
planned moves.
Alfos wanted to sound the retreat to re-group,
but it was too late now, his army was fully engaged and twisted out of shape.
Their losses were equal to the enemies, but this was all they had, if they were
defeated they would have no defence for the city of Arun itself, and those that
were left there would have less chance to flee as the situation dynamically
changed from one moment to the next. Now he desperately hoped, that however
few, that his father would bring extra men, so there were reserves to play
with. ‘We can defend from the city against this army, but we must fall back
now,’ he said to Caratacus and the closest of the royal guards. ‘We will draw
them on to the outer defences,’ He gesticulated angrily and Caratacus and the
royal guard sped off in different directions to spread the word around the men
[]
Under the shadows of tall trees, Amros sat in
his tent watching the small wooden and glass sand clock as it measured out
time. The grains of sand seemed to go at their own rate, dropping slowly and
then quickly through the narrow gap between the two glass chambers, almost
working against time itself. Amros became more and more infuriated by it as the
top chamber gradually emptied and the lower chamber eventually filled. Thamus
sat watching his leader with amusement, spinning the tip of his sword in the
dry earth.
‘Come on, come on. How much longer? Amros
shouted hoarsely between gulps of wine.
‘Two more turns, Sir,’ Thamus said trying to
hide his smile.
‘That’s too long.’ Amros looked up at the sun
that had already begun its descent. ‘There’s something wrong with that thing,’
Thamus looked at the sand clock and sideways at
the sun a couple of times. ‘I know which I trust,’
‘When the next turn is done get the men ready,’
Amros said as he started to paced about.
‘They are ready, Sir,’ Thamus said looking at the
backs of the lines of men standing silently just out of the line of trees.
‘Good,’ Amros snapped. He walked up and down the
length of the small tent feeling ill at ease and out of place, hoping that
Severus’s army had had maximum impact and they would only have clearing up to
do. He looked out at the men, some helmeted heads seemed familiar and others
not. Among the ranks, behind the eight blocks of infantry units, that had the
finest men from the highest legions, in the reserves, the sixteenth legion stood.
There were nine hundred and fifty of them out of the thousand left that had
survived the long march all the way from Italia. Among those nine hundred and
fifty was Unit nineteen, Section three. They stood waiting for the battle to
begin, like everyone else and they also waited for their unit leader, Thamus.
Ducius, Ascoli, Lundos, John Smith and Adam Jones stood with the new recruits
wondering what would happen next. It was only a matter of time before they met
their deaths like the others they mused. There seemed to be no way out of the
freezing hell hole they had been assigned to. Vinci, Igor and a space where the
not replaced Pico would’ve stood waited also, Marc was so sick he had been sent
home. They clenched their spears, checked their swords and shifted from one
foot to another. Toni and Louie, the eleventh and twelfth members of the
section stood at the end of the line, oblivious and unconcerned with everything
around them. Ducius started talking along the line.
‘Course, you know what’s going to ‘appen, don’t
you,’ he said. It was a rhetorical question, but he still waited for a reply
that would not come. Only Lenard, in his naivety would give him any kind of
recognition; a nervous smile and a nod, the others stared blankly and solemnly
forward at the backs of the heads of the men of Unit two. ‘When one of that
lot, up there cop it, we’re going to have to fill the ranks. We, lads, our
section, that has already had its own casualties, will be the replacements for
dead men. That’s after the body draggers have taken the mess away,’ Lenard
started to feel sick, he looked around worriedly and contemplated running for
it. But how far would he get in this cold and strange land full of savages with
even stranger beliefs. His eyes flutter to the tops of trees and the endless
low sloping hills ahead. Which way would he go? How long could he last? Could
he run and find a port and somehow make it back to Italia? No. He was better
off dying here with his mates. His sickness eased and he spat out the build-up of
saliva in his mouth.
‘It’s not gonna come to that. The Southern army
have taken care of most of them,’ Vinci whispered, aware that others were
listening. ‘I’ve heard this through the grape vine,’
‘Oh, right, well if that’s the case then we’ll
be all right,’ Ducius bellowed with thick sarcasm. ‘Anyway Let’s hope so. I
didn’t come all this way to get killed by a bunch of savages. I don’t know why
they just don’t surrender. It’d make it a lot easier for everyone,’ he
continued staring dreamily into the middle distance.
Thamus came marching up and took his place in
the number one position. They all looked towards him expectantly, but his lips
were tight, knowing he wasn’t supposed to reveal any direct orders given. The
men looked away, waiting, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist saying
something. ‘We’re going to be moving any time now,’ he said at low volume.
‘About bloody time, it’s freezing out here,’
Ducius said, letting his mouth run away with him. ‘Standing around pissing
ourselves. When we were in Germania, it was in and out, that was it, there was
no hanging around,’
‘Shut up, Duc,’ Thamus shouted across.
Up ahead a flag waved back and forth, indicating
for them to proceed. Moving as one, in one synchronised movement they all
marched out of the line of trees. They marched down a sweeping valley and up a
low sloping hill. All ten thousand men, minus casualties, including trebuchet,
archers and cavalry marched. They were in exactly the same formation as the
southern army. Eight blocks of infantry two hundred square with eight units
behind. Heavy equipment at each end at the back with the cavalry inside which
in turn protected the reserves, archers, flag bearers, officers, generals and
Amros himself. They marched over another hill until in front of them they faced
the outer defences of the city of Arun.
‘Not much of a place is it? It’s a bit of a dump
to be honest. I think we’re doing them a favour, putting them out of their
misery,’ Ducius said flatly, in his usual monotone voice. All eyes looked to
their left and there in the distance was what was left of the southern army. A
red flag waved from it, the signal that they had withdrawn and it was clear for
the eastern army to proceed.
‘They’ve taken quite a hit,’ Ascoli whispered.
Littered on the field in front of them were the injured and dead. Their own men
and Britons.
‘Forty per cent I reckon. They’ve grouped back
up well,’ Ducius put in.
‘Forward,’ Thamus shouted, echoing the other
section leaders commands. The land was flat and open and they proceeded towards
the outer defences at a steady pace. Arrows flew in at them ‘Shields up,’ Some
held their shields up, some put them above their heads and some didn’t bother
as the front ranks reached a sharp dip.
As the southern army before the eastern army now
faced the Britons, but they didn’t face an attacking mob of men in their
thousands like before. They faced a diminished force that was taking shelter
behind the partial protection of the outer defences and the stone walls of the
city itself. The stone walls were not very high, only forty feet, no more and
so could be scaled with long ladders and ropes. Severus didn’t want Amros to
have that type of battle, he wanted the troops to be kept in line and more
importantly the whole army in formation. He wanted to fight a model battle to
show the enemy the way they were. In this way the army could be used to it
fullest extent. They were ordered to a halt two hundred yards from the outer
defences and as they stopped the giant trebuchet began their treacherous work.
The infantry men all standing neatly and formidably in rows became sitting
targets. They watched the great explosions cut up the earth and batter Arun’s
castle walls. Stone work crumbled and fell on the men standing below. Their
screams echoed across the valley.
‘Poor b******s,’ Ducius said under his breath as
several arrows flew at him and section three. Arrows harmlessly thudded into
the soil, some found men’s legs while others ricocheted off the tops of
shields.
‘Keep - Your - Shield - Up - Ducius,’ Thamus
barked.
‘Sir,’
he said with enough patience not to sound bored or offended.
‘Aagghhh the gods,’ Zundos screamed. He crouched
down holding his right ankle. An arrow had gone through his leg and blood was
spurting out. He dropped his shield and spear as he cradled his leg. Aargh
aaahhh,’
‘Zundos, if you can walk, retire,’ Thamus said
softly. He looked at Zundos pitifully. Zundod limped off with the arrow stuck
out of his leg, ‘Refill,’ Thamus shouted with hands around his mouth like a
loud hailer. After a few minutes a tall, young man came along and shuffled into
Zundos’s place. He was a scruffy urchin who looked like he hadn’t washed. He
got into position and crouched down with the rest of the unit, his shield
overhead. Ducius watched as chariots came forward in a marauding pack. One
chariot led the pack, but stayed just inside the front. It had an archer on its
back plate whose arrows flew with great speed and accuracy. The archer seemed
to pick his target at will and never miss. When his arrow tip was pointed at a
particular group of men they responded by tightening their lock of shields and
focussing their crouching.
‘If we stand here much longer, there’ll be none
of us left,’ Ducius grumbled. A small knot of arrows flew in at Section 2 in front
of them.
‘Won’t be long now,’ Thamus said brightly.
‘No, it won’t be long,’ Vinci whispered, smiling
grimly. ‘Gotta let the catapults do their bit. They all looked at the gaping
holes in the walls of the city of Arun. There were piles of rubble and clouds
of dust. Mangled bodies lay where they had fallen in and around the craters and
islands of British soldiers stood trapped by the outer defences that had not
yet been hit. But the Britons kept their counter attack going and the heavily
armed swordsmen were jumping down from the pack of chariots and were busily
hacking holes in the front lines of the army of Italia. They cut and levered
the men apart in the well-meshed and locked together ranks and as they did
others rushed in behind them.
‘Here we go. This should get things moving,’
Ducius said carelessly judging the battle, comparing it to others he had seen
unfold. He saw the trebuchet had stopped firing to alter position to a more
central target along the wall, closer to the main gate. ‘Yes, they’re opening
it up for us. This should be a walk over. Can’t wait to get this over with,’
Whizz whoosh shew shew shew. A thick cluster of arrows flew at them as dark as
a cloud and Igor fell where he stood, an arrow through his chest and another,
at an angle in his neck. ‘Man down here Sir,’ Ducius shouted, watching as Igor
took his last breaths.
‘REFILL,’ Thamus shouted over the growing din.
‘We need to move,’ an anonymous voice in the
ranks said.
‘Can’t move without orders, soldier,’ Thamus
replied, keeping his gaze straight ahead. The trebuchet had re-started and were
smashing the city walls hard. Large pieces of masonry tumbled to the ground
with ear-splitting crashes. ‘Won’t be long lads, won’t be long,’
A roar went up among the ranks as Leviathon stepped
out and was gracefully defeating one British warrior after another. The front
rank from which he had emerged had neatly opened and closed, leaving him to
systematically wreak havoc. He fought one man to his right, one to his left and
a third behind, he was forever shifting position to his advantage. As he moved
away from danger and into attack his feet came up behind the backs of his legs
in the war dance he wove. A wide circle of space opened up around him, so he
searched for more victims. He reached our spinning a knife in one hand and a
sword on the other. A group of legionaries formed a protective ring around him,
covering his back. From afar a shower of javelins were launched at him. He
batted them away like they were harmless things and even picked one up and
threw it back with such force it flew deep into the scatterings of Britons.
Leviathon surged forward and got closer to the chariots, to Boudica’s chariot
and Ao.
Ao watched him in amazement he had never seen
such an accomplished warrior. He watched in fascination as his sword worked in
a blur of blood and silver. Man after man came at him, fought and fell. Ao saw
the horror of it and he knew what he had to do. Steadily he took aim at the
great man who had made himself a target to him. Leviathon moved in and out of
his aim, getting closer as he did.
‘Come to me so we can change this battle,’ Ao
whispered to himself. His arrow flew in a low arc, rising over the heads of
Britons and falling over the helmeted heads of the men of Italia. It found its
mark and was dead centre to Leviathon’s chest, but Leviathon saw it and batted
it away with his sword. Stepping off the backplate of the chariot to get a more
steady aim, Ao quickly reloaded. Leviathon watched and
attled
his way towards him.
‘What kind of coward is a man who shoots little
sticks of wood from a bow. He is not a warrior at all,’ Leviathon bellowed and
he roared with laughter, loud enough to be heard above the din of clashing
swords. At that moment a tight cluster of spears flew in at Boudica’s chariot.
One struck in her horse, another thudded into the ground, while a third hit the
chariot wheel, breaking some of the spokes. Lastly a fourth one embedded itself
in the chariot cabin itself.
‘Come on A,’ Boudica called as she stepped down
to care for horse, which had dropped to its knees. Blood oozed from its flank,
it breathed heavily and it’s eyes were weak and panicked. ‘Take him out, A she
said patting the horses head, giving it some comfort before it died. ‘Now, we
need to get out of here’. Ao took aim and his second arrow found a British
shield that Leviathon had picked up from a warrior that he had killed.
Leviathon marched forward, totally breaking the formation of the neat front
ranks he was supposed to be in and with the legionaries that had come out to
protect him, it had thinned the ranks.
‘Come back,’ the voice of a Unit leader called
from the rear of the ranks. Leviathon slowly turned around to join his men, but
not before he had with some accuracy thrown a javelin at Ao.
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