Edward Crichton - The Last Roman

As I watched man after man impaled through head, chest, torso, or leg I couldn’t imagine why these mere firefighters were so willing to needlessly throw their lives away. These men didn’t seem confused or unhappy. They just seemed angry. And so did I.

That’s what confused me.

As I pulled Helena back through our ranks, the last two lines from our legion released their volley of spears. By the time the inbound projectiles found their marks, I saw the reason for everyone’s craziness. Riding a black horse easily as tall as Caligula’s, I saw Claudius sporting a wonderfully purple cape and armor. In his right hand he held a long cavalryman’s sword, but in his left, high above his head as though it were a standard itself, was the blue orb that had started this fucking mess.

I guess that shouldn’t surprise me. Claudius’ prolonged exposure seemed to be increasing his insanity exponentially, and its possible effect on the troops wasn’t that farfetched. While they hadn’t turned into mindless zombies yet, something had to be driving them and I suspected it wasn’t Claudius’ charming disposition.

Helena and I moved towards the extreme right flank of the legion, its auxilia now engaged in battle out in the middle of the field. The auxilia were acting as predicted, cutting through the militia like a hot knife through butter. They were outnumbered four to one, but were still making headway through superior skill and determination.

The orb was another snag in our plan that would cause more trouble than we wanted, but I the undisciplined and untrained militia had to break, even though that seemed less than likely now. That meant Galba would have to commit his cavalry reserves to that side of the battle prematurely.

Bordeaux and Wang linked up with us near the rear of the legion’s farthest cohort on the right. We exchanged quick greetings, and made our way along the long line towards the extreme left, and Caligula’s position. One of the legionnaires noticed our movement and yelled, asking us where we were going.

“Orders,” Helena announced loudly. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

The men in earshot cheered at the idea of her coming to aid them in the upcoming battle. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to make you a god after this,” I told her as we jogged.

“Would you finally listen to me for a change if I were?”

“Why, of course, oh goddess.”

She laughed and kept running. Wang peel off and join the legion’s medical cadre where he’d stay and offer more help than every other doctor combined. Wounded were already trickling in from the battle with the vigiles. It seemed they were fighting harder than expected, another bad sign.

We passed by Galba on the way. He ignored us and continued yelling for updates on the right flank. We saw a messenger on horseback ride towards the right to determine the situation and appraise Galba upon his return. Reaching Caligula, I noticed the left flank was completely silent, and all I could see were rebel Praetorians of in the distance, patiently waiting just out of pila range. Vincent and Santino were there too, standing eagerly near the emperor’s side. Vincent nodded in greeting while Santino clapped me on the shoulder.

“What happened over here?” I asked them.

“We focused our fire on the urban cohorts,” Vincent reported. “There were fewer of them than the vigiles, and we probably killed two thirds of their men ourselves. By the time they charged, we switched fire to the vigiles on our side of the field. They were slaughtered with just one volley of pila from our Praetorians.”

What a waste. Fifteen hundred men dead in a matter of minutes. What made matters worse was that we were the ones doing most of the killing. Why didn’t it affect me the way I knew it should?

“Anybody else not really care that we’re slaughtering people on a Hitlerian scale today?” I asked the squad.

Everyone’s look shifted towards the ground. They seemed ashamed that they too were unphased by the killing, and that they didn’t know why.

“Want to know why?” Santino asked.

I looked at him, wondering if he really had any answers.

“By all means, enlighten us,” I told him.

“It’s because of that fucking thing,” he said pointing towards Claudius as he rode atop his great stead, glowing blue orb in hand.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out, Jacob. It’s what got us here and you said it’s what drove Caligula insane before, and now its affect has reached every single person on this battlefield. It’s clearly touched us, because we don’t care that we’re killing these people. We’re losing our minds!” He yelled for dramatic effect. “If you ask me, the quicker we end this battle the better.”

I looked at him and opened my mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. I couldn’t believe how much sense that made, considering how usually dimwitted he was.

“Clearly it’s affected you,” Bordeaux said. “That actually made sense.” He shook his head, trying to rationalize Santino’s analysis. “Doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does,” Vincent said, “It doesn’t matter. We’re committed.”

I was still trying to wrap my head around Santino’s epiphany when Galba came riding up to Caligula.

The emperor noticed his general’s approach, and turned his horse to meet him near where we stood. “How goes the battle, Legate?”

“Not well, I’m afraid,” he updated. “The auxilia are completely tied up and cannot disengage. I’ve already sent my cavalry to support them for fear that the sheer weight of that militia will come crashing down on my legion. As for them, we’ve taken some losses, not many, but more than we hoped. These bastards have somehow found the will to fight.” He looked to his right, at the enemy Praetorians, practically all that was left of Claudius’ army. “I don’t think we can hold them. They’re fresh and very experienced. If we can’t get the support of the auxilia, we may falter here.”

“What will you have me do, general?”

It was nice to see Caligula conceding control to a more experienced military man, instead of trying to micromanage. The man had definitely matured.

“Hold here on the left at any cost. The only advantage we have is that Claudius has his best troops aligned against you, and if you can hold out long enough, maybe we can punch through and swing around to engulf them.”

“We’ll hold, Legate. You have my word.”

“Yours is one of the few I trust, Caesar. May Mars guide you this day,” Galba said, turning his horse to return to his men.

“And you, Servius,” Caligula said to the retreating man’s back. He turned to face Vincent. “The empire needs you. Do not worry about me. Just do whatever you can to cause as much confusion as possible. The Praetorians won’t be used to your kind of presence on the battlefield.” He paused and looked out over the chaos. “When you see the sign, come to my aid.”

“What sign, Caesar?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” and with that, he rode back to his own advisors, already issuing commands and words of encouragement.

“Well?” Vincent asked, getting our attention. “You heard the man. Spread out. Pick your fights, and stay out of the way of the professionals.”

I saluted, a growingly superfluous gesture these days, and reached out for Helena’s arm, pulling her in the general direction of the XV Primigenia ’s 1st cohort. A short run later, we found it right where we left it, in the exact center of the legion’s formation, its eagle prominently displayed high above. We took positions near to the legion’s aquilifer, who held the eagle, perhaps the most important position in the entire army. He was unarmed, but he was a veteran, probably taken from another legion’s pool of experienced soldiers to hold this new legion’s eagle. He had to be brave because he could not run. To run would be the single most detrimental thing that could happen to a legion.