Legatus Legionis: Book Two in the Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy (4 page)

Gaius looked at this, and, after a moment's thought, realized a reply was required. He wrote back, thanking the
Princeps
, accepted the position, and swore that he would ensure
Legio XI
would be the most loyal of the legions to the
Princeps
of Rome. He also wrote to Claudius, thanking him, and assured Claudius that he would justify the trust he had placed in him.

Chapter 4

Gaius wrapped his cloak more tightly. For the people who lived in this region, this was probably a pleasant autumnal day, but after Judea it felt cold. The breeze was rustling through the leaves, dislodging some, and a light scattering of the browner leaves covered the track. The strange quietness struck Gaius; apart from the leaves, there was little sound. He looked over his shoulder. The six horsemen were watching the flanks, while two others were helping push the small wagon up the hill. It was a good thing the track was dry, Gaius thought. After a good rain, since the track was essentially earthen, it would quickly turn into a bog. Not that that need worry him; it was firm now, they were making good time, and by his calculation they would reach their destination well before there was any chance for rain.

Before him was what appeared to be the top of a saddle. As he approached the top, the forward scout appeared, his hand held up in the sign for caution and silence. Gaius quickly rode forward.

"About four hundred men, probably Iazyges, on the other side of that hill. For the moment, they can be ignored, but there is also one of their scouting parties on the track ahead, heading for a small but important bridge."

"Important?" Gaius frowned.

"It crosses a narrow but deep river at a ravine," the scout explained. "It's really the only way across. Either . . ." He stopped.

"Either?" Gaius queried.

"It's not my place to decide . . ."

"Opinion?" Gaius commanded.

"Either we cross that bridge, and if necessary fight our way through that scouting party, in the next half hour, or we should turn back and hope they haven't found us."

"You don't fancy taking on a few hundred?"

"Since you ask, no sir."

"Neither do I," Gaius nodded, "especially not in the open."

Gaius scanned across the land before him. In better times, he thought, this scene could be described as rather beautiful. The autumn colours were very striking, and went for miles as the land dropped away. The problem, he thought to himself, reduced itself to being able to get to the bridge before the main body of the opposition. According to the scout they should easily manage that and turning back was not an attractive option. The cart was leaving fresh tracks and the horses would be tiring. If the Iazyges found the track, and if they were looking for trouble, they would quickly conclude that a small party was afraid of them.

On the other hand, he did not know as yet that these Iazyges wanted to fight. For all he knew they could be a trading party, or merely poachers. Then consider the reputation of a new
Legatus
who fled before a trading party with permission to be there. There was that phrase uttered by Little Boots: 'Try not to bring Rome to her knees with laughter'. Yes, that left little choice.

"We make haste for the bridge," Gaius said. He turned to Timothy, now that the cart had drawn level. "There's a small bridge ahead," Gaius said, "which we must reach as quickly as possible, but while making as little noise as possible." He paused, then added, "Go as quickly as you can, but leave the horses enough reserve in case we have to make a final charge. Fortunately it is almost all downhill. You other men! Two to remain with the cart, the rest with me! We shall go ahead far enough that if we have to fight off a scouting party, we can do it without slowing up the cart." He then nodded to the others, and gave the signal to advance.

They covered the first half of the distance without incident. Gaius was pleased, because he could not hear the party behind, but when he looked back at an appropriate time, they were keeping up a good speed. The cart was making very little sound on the earthen track, and the wind rustling in the trees seemed to dampen what sounds were made. The track now wound along the side of a number of steep hills, the river they had to cross meandered along below them, as if in no particular hurry to lose its independence to the mighty Danube it would soon join. The terrain was ideal. The probability of a flanking attack was zero, other than somebody rolling boulders down from above.

They rounded a rather steep bluff and there before them they could see the track wind down to the bridge. The land had flattened into a small open plateau, devoid of cover. Ideally he should wait for the cart, then all should charge towards the bridge together, so as to leave their existence hidden for as long as possible.

However, the situation was not ideal. Just before the bridge was a carriage, lying on its side. A small number of Roman soldiers were fighting off the scouting party, and a number of horses, presumably belonging to these men, were wandering off. Behind them, apparently giving orders, was a wretched woman! She, presumably, had gone for a "drive in the country" and she was of sufficiently important rank to warrant dragging soldiers out as an escort. Now, not only was she going to pay for this piece of self-indulgence, but so were the soldiers. Why anyone thought the frontiers were places for picnics was incomprehensible.

Not that that mattered. If Roman citizens were in distress, the Roman army would fight. Never mind the stupidity behind the situation. Successful attacks on Roman citizens would only encourage further attacks. In any case, retreat was now not an option; they were too close to the bridge, and the horses too tired to permit the cart to start fleeing up-hill. As the cart came into distant view, Gaius gave the signal for urgency, then he gestured to his other soldiers, they drew their lances and held them in the fighting position, and Gaius signalled the advance.

The scouting party numbered about twenty and were so sure of a quick victory nobody was watching their rear. The first they knew of Gaius' party was the sound of horses riding across earth. They turned to see six horsemen with six lances virtually upon them. There was no time to move; the horses passed and six lances were embedded in six falling bodies. As the lances struck, the victims screamed. Screams from behind distracted those in the front, and well-drilled Roman soldiers knew an opening. Another four men fell, blood oozing from their ruptured lower bodies.

Gaius looked up and his satisfaction turned to anger. The woman, rather than staying behind the soldiers, had somehow got around behind the fight and was fleeing across the bridge. She was not going to make it because she was being pursued by a man who, from his more expensive clothing and shield, appeared to be the leader of the raiders. If she were captured, and, as seemed likely, were rich, his first task as Legate, assuming he survived this skirmish, would be to try to rescue her. If the raiders killed her, and, as was likely, she was known to Little Boots, his career was dead in the water right then. Worse, on that narrow bridge, he could not use his horse to advantage. He pulled his horse away from the fight, rode towards the bridge, and in one move, dismounted, secured the horse and grasped shield and cavalry sword.

Instead of risking all on getting to the woman first, the raider turned to face him. In the open his larger sword could be used freely. With a yell, the man charged at Gaius and swung. This was easily parried, but as Gaius moved forward to thrust, he found nothing there; his opponent had leaped back as he noticed the shield would stop the blow. The man had skill, Gaius noted.

The man had now backed onto the arched stone bridge with waist-high walls. A sideways glance showed that the water was a surprising distance below. Gaius now advanced onto the bridge and neither man could pass the other. The problem was, Gaius alone had to think about his back. He had to trust his men.

Gaius had often wondered what he would feel like if faced with a man who could kill him. As he was to remark later, he was a little surprised to find that he could see nothing but the man in front of him, but he could see that man with total clarity. He could almost sense every twitch, and when he saw a slight tightening of the lips he knew the move was coming. At that instant he leaped slightly to his left and thrust his shield forward with everything he had, pushing the centre of it at the sword shoulder. The timing was perfect. The man had brought his arm back to get a better swing, and it was just beginning to come forward when the shield charge came. He faltered, stepped back, and to the side away from Gaius' leap, but struck the stone wall on the side of the bridge. With nowhere to go, and off balance he found himself pinned by the shield, with no defence to the sword driving up through his ribcage. The body went limp, then fell over the bridge wall. Gaius watched the body, sword and shield fall into the water below. Three satisfying splashes, a smear of red, and his enemy was gone.

A glance behind him showed that the fight was over and the Roman soldiers were now checking the wounded. He sensed that the woman was approaching and it was just as she was beginning to thank him, a thought struck him. Three satisfying splashes! He nodded to the woman, then noticed the soldiers standing around, as if everything was over. He gave an abrupt order to gather up spare weapons and to gather the wounded together, and when there seemed to be uncertainty as to whether to obey, he spat the order out again and turned back to the bridge. Behind him, he could hear the Centurion spit out more orders, orders that would be promptly obeyed. He stared at the river. Something was wrong, and the image would not get out of his mind. Three splashes. The woman stared at him, then slightly angrily she turned towards the wounded.

Three splashes. What was it? Yes! Three splashes at the same time! The steel sword, the large wooden shield and the body struck the water at the same time, more or less. But if heavy things fell faster, or even if denser things fell faster, there should be a sequence of splashes. But no! There had been three satisfying splashes more or less simultaneously.

A strangely intense but very calm feeling overwhelmed him. The Greek philosophers were wrong! Or at least some of them were. Things fell at the same rate. The Earth could move around the Sun, because all the things on the Earth were falling at exactly the same rate. Things fell towards each other, and towards much bigger things! The Moon was falling around the Earth because it was the closest biggest body, and both fell around the Sun because it was bigger still, even if it was further away. Aristarchus was correct! Everything was suddenly so clear, as if a veil had been drawn from his face. For over a minute he stared at the water below, marvelling at the simplicity of it all.

Then he turned to face the others. Timothy had just arrived with the cart.

"Take it over the bridge," Gaius ordered, "then two of you start cutting lance-stakes." He turned towards the Centurion who had been escorting the woman. "Get that carriage back onto the road, and get this woman back to safety, as quickly as . . ."

"The axle's broken!" The Centurion said in a matter of fact tone.

"I see," Gaius nodded. "Then get the wounded to the other side of that bridge now, and . . "

"These men need care!" The woman in interrupted.

"Yes, on the other side of the bridge!" Gaius retorted, and turned back towards the Centurion.

"Who do you think you're giving orders to?" The woman again. She had to be influential, because the Centurion stared between the two, uncertain of what to do.

"There're about four hundred of those raiders up there!" Gaius said, and pointed. To his surprise, a line of horsemen appeared on the brow of the hill. "The bridge gives us the only chance of defence."

The Centurion gave a quick glance, then suddenly became more urgent. "Move the men!" the Centurion ordered. "You three, get that carriage out of that ditch." As an experienced Centurion, he may have doubted who was in charge, but he knew trouble when he saw it, and he knew what to do about trouble.

"You!" Gaius said to a soldier who was walking toward the bridge. He seemed to be reasonably fit, except his right arm was bandaged and he was obviously wounded. "You can ride a horse?"

"Yes."

"Take one and go get help!"

"The man's wounded!" The woman again.

"And we'll be dead unless we get help," Gaius remarked coldly. "He can't fight with an arm that can't move, but he can probably sit on a horse, and it looks as if the bandage has more or less stopped the bleeding. He goes."

"I'll go!" the woman said.

"No!" Gaius countered. "There are still more wounded to be tended to, and you seem to know what you're doing." He did not want to add that he was not going to send a woman alone, and that he doubted she would have the influence to get help.

"It's all right," the soldier said to the woman. "I'll manage." The soldier walked to the horse, and was helped onto it. "I'll have help quickly," he said to the woman.

He was about to set off when Gaius called out to him. "When you get to Lussonium," he said firmly, "you may tell the men that a slow response time will really piss off their new
Legatus
, and assuming he survives, a pissed off
Legatus
has the authority to order more than enough drills that they will never be slow again!"

"Yes sir!" The soldier suddenly realized that haste on his part was a good idea, and he rode rapidly. Gaius was also amused to see that the other soldiers had dramatically increased their efforts.

"Well?" Gaius said to the woman, who was standing there uncertain about what to do since her authority appeared to have been usurped. "We haven't got much time, and there's a lot to do. To start with, there are soldiers still needing you." He nodded dismissively towards her, as if to say, 'Well, get on with it!' then turned away from her, and began giving a sequence of instructions to other soldiers. The woman was almost furious at being ordered, then she realized that he had a point. Some of her escort were groaning with pain, and trying to staunch blood. Yes, she should try to do something to help. As she bent over her first patient, she looked back and frowned. The stranger who, she admitted, had saved her life, was picking up rocks.