Conn Iggulden - The Field Of Swords

“I’ve never seen so many warriors,” the scout whispered, awed by the army they faced. The Helvetii were too far away to hear, but the sheer size of the migration was oppressive and Julius pitched his voice as low to reply.

“I’d guess eighty thousand, but I can’t be sure amongst the followers,” he replied.

It was too many to send the legions in a straight attack, even if they were not worn down by the march.

“Bring Brutus to me,” he ordered.

It was not long before he heard running footsteps and Brutus was there with him, crouching in the damp leaves.

The Helvetii had marched through a wide valley that led into the lands of the Aedui. They had forced a hard pace to skirt the river, and Julius was impressed at their stamina and organization as the night camp began to form on the plain. If they struck any deeper into Aedui lands, they would be into heavy forest and the legions’ advantages would be lost. These were not the wide-spaced woods he knew from Rome, but dense undergrowth that would trap horses and make any sort of organized fighting impossible. Sheer numbers would carry the day then, and the Helvetii had a host of warriors, with nowhere to go but onward.

The tribe had burnt the first village they came to on the border of the Aedui, and the scouts reported no one left alive. Women and animals had been taken into the column and the rest butchered. Village by village, they would cross the land like locusts unless Julius could catch them on the plain. He thanked his gods that they were not pushing on through the night. No doubt their numbers made them overconfident, though even with his legions ready, it was difficult to see how to attack so many and win.

Julius turned to Brutus. “You see that hill to the west?” He pointed to a solid crag of layered green and gray in the dim distance. Brutus nodded. “It’s a strong position. Take the Tenth and Third to the crest, ready for dawn. The Helvetii will see the threat and they cannot leave you there to harry them. Take the archers from Ariminum, but keep them far back from the front. The bowmen will be better used on your hill than on the plain.”

He smiled grimly and clapped Brutus on the shoulder with his hand.

“These tribesmen have never fought legions, Brutus. They will see a mere ten thousand facing them as the sun comes up. You will educate them.”

Brutus looked at him. The sun was already setting and its light was reflected in Julius’s fierce gaze.

“It will be dark before I reach it,” Brutus replied. It was the closest he would come to questioning an order with the scouts listening all around them.

Julius seemed not to notice his reservations, continuing quickly, “You must have silence as you move up. When they see you and charge, I will hit them from the rear. Go quickly.”

Brutus slithered back until he was clear and could run for his men.

“On your feet, lads,” he said as he came to the first ranks of the Tenth. “You won’t get much sleep tonight.”

As dawn approached, Julius was back looking over the plain. The sun came up behind him and there was a gray light long before it rose over the mountains. The Helvetii began to move into their marching order, and Julius watched as the warriors bullied the other castes onto their feet. Those with swords and spears had status, Julius could see. They did not carry supplies themselves, remaining free to fight and run. Julius watched for the moment when they would see the legions arrayed on the hill, and the time seemed to stretch endlessly.

Behind him, Mark Antony waited with his legion and three others, cold and grim without breakfast or fires to warm them. It hardly seemed enough to tackle such a vast army, but Julius could think of nothing else to alter the balance.

A horse galloped up from behind and Julius turned in fury to wave the man down before he was seen.

He rose to a crouch as he saw the scout’s pale features, and when the man slid from his saddle, he could not speak at first for panting.

“Sir, there is an enemy force on the hill to the west! A large number of them.”

Julius looked back at the Helvetii in the dim light. They were getting ready to decamp, with no sign of panic or distress. Had they spotted his scouts and prepared a flanking position? His respect for the tribe increased a notch. And where was Brutus? The two forces clearly hadn’t met in the darkness, or the sound of battle would have been heard for miles. Had he climbed the wrong hill in the night? Julius swore aloud, furious with the setback. He had no way of communicating with his missing legions, and until they showed themselves, he dared not attack.

“I’ll have his balls,” he promised, then turned to the men at his side.

“No horns or signals. Just fall back. Pass the word to regroup at the stream.”

As they moved away, Julius heard the tinny blaring of horns as the Helvetii began to move on. The frustration was appalling and the thought of having to take them in the thick forests was nothing like the crushing victory he had hoped for.

Brutus waited for the sun to banish the dark shadows on the hill. He had the Tenth arranged before his Third Gallica, depending on their greater experience to stand anything the Helvetii could send against them. In addition, a part of his own legion were from Gaul. Julius had said a legion could be raised in less than a year. Living, working, and fighting together bound men stronger than anything, but there was always the nagging suspicion of what could happen if those men were ordered to fight their own people.

When Brutus had asked them about the Helvetii, they had only shrugged at him, as if there could be no conflict. None of them were from the tribe, and those that had come to Rome for gold seemed to claim no special loyalty to those they had left behind. They had been the sort of mercenaries who lived for nothing except pay and found companionship only amongst their own kind. Brutus knew the regular silver and food of the legions would be a dream for some of them, but still he had placed the Tenth to take the first charge.

Though he was unutterably weary after the climb, he had to admit Julius had an eye for good land. If anything, Brutus regretted leaving the extraordinarii back in the camp, but he could not have known the ascent would be easy, with only a few sprains and one broken arm from a bad fall in the darkness. Three men had lost their swords and now carried daggers, but they had crested the hill before dawn and gone over to the far slope without losing a single man. The legionary with the broken arm had strapped it to his chest and would fight left-handed. He had scorned being sent back and pointed to Ciro in the front rank of the Tenth, saying that the big man could throw his spears for him.

In the first glimmers of gray light, Brutus sent whispered orders to dress the formation that stretched across the slopes. Even the veterans of the Tenth looked a little ragged after finding their positions in darkness, and his own legion needed the staffs of their optios to create order. They loosened the ties on their spears as he watched, and with four to a man, Brutus knew they would destroy any charge sent against them. The Helvetii carried oval shields, but the heavy spears would pin them to the ground, shields and all.

The sun rose behind the mountains as the Helvetii marched unaware toward their position. Brutus felt the old excitement build as he waited for their soldiers to see the Tenth and Third looking down at them.

He grinned in anticipation of the first rays of light, and when it came, he laughed aloud at the sight. The sun spread a beam across them from the peaks. Ten thousand helmets and sets of armor went from dull gray to gold in a few minutes. The yellow horsehair plumes of the centurions seemed to glow, and the column of the Helvetii staggered below on the plain as men pointed and shouted a warning.