S. Turney - The Belgae

Heads all around the square turned at this commotion, just as the Remi officer swung the great blade sideways and bit deep into the midriff of the next man. Now the warriors around him were grasping their hidden weapons and struggling to fight back under this sudden and unexpected onslaught.

Between desperate, panicked blows, Galronus bellowed and cried, catching, as he did, the occasional glimpse across the square. Priscus had reached the far side and disappeared, though there was a commotion there too. Well, the auxiliary officer had done all he could now. The warriors outside the house had fallen like wheat to his blade as he surprised them, but now they were armed and beginning to block his blows. With half a dozen of them pressing on him, he would die here.

Swallowing, and hoping he’d done enough to help Priscus, he suddenly dropped back through the doorway into the building once more, slamming and wedging shut the door as he did so.

Without pausing to take a breath, he ran through the house and out of the rear door into the well-tended garden. Should he run round to the square again and try to warn the Roman column? No. Pointless. They must be aware of the trouble after all his shouting.

It was all down to Priscus now.

Aulus Ingenuus, former cavalry prefect and, for the last year, commander of Caesar’s praetorians, licked his dry lips nervously. To command the bodyguard of such an important man was always a great responsibility, but never more so than today. Ingenuus had done what he could. He’d managed to get Varus, the cavalry commander, to supply extra troops, and the command party was surrounded by well-trained and extremely alert troopers, all fully armed and armoured and on experienced war horses. And yet he was twitching.

He had actually requested of Caesar that the senior officers carry shields too. After all, they were in full armour and wore their swords, so it would only be reasonable, but the general had shaken his head. The commanders of the army had to look imposing, in control, and invincible.

But… in the name of Mars Gravidus, what were they thinking? As the column left the main thoroughfare and rode slowly out into the great open square at the centre of Aduatuca, Ingenuus became acutely aware that something was happening at the far end. There was a commotion that included sounds of fighting. As the command party and its guard made their way into the open area, Ingenuus, his eyes darting nervously from place to place, spotted two trouble spots immediately. A house on the far right, toward the top of the square, was the focus of attention for a small group of Aduatuci who were brandishing weapons and beating on the door and windows, and…

Brandishing weapons?

Even as the praetorian officer’s eyes swept across the square to a similar scene on the left, he realised his voice had called the order without waiting for permission from his brain.

“Ad aciem!”

Caesar and the officers turned in surprise to stare at the young commander, but the order had been given. The praetorians closed up around the general as fast and as tightly as their horses would allow.

There was a thrumming noise that was all too familiar to Ingenuus, and he looked up and left. Something was happening in the eaves of that building off to the side that was a centre of activity. And, as he stared at the building, his eyes automatically refocused instead on the arrow whirring toward the general with alarming accuracy.

“Archer!”

He was too far away to help, but the trooper nearest the general heard his commander and noticed the arrow just in time to jump upwards, throwing his shield high. The arrow thudded into the wood and leather and the praetorian fell to the floor, the momentum of his leap carrying him from his horse.

The general blinked as the threat to his life vanished with the guardsman to the ground.

“Form up!” a voice called from behind as the tribunes became aware of the sudden danger. The cohorts began to drive past the mounted officers and cavalry into the square, where they filtered out into lines and began to lock shields.

The Aduatuci, realising they had lost the element of surprise, let out a loud and violent roar and all around the square and back down the street, warriors lining the way drew their hidden weapons and lunged at the heavily armoured and fully prepared legionaries. Ingenuus, however, was already driving his horse hard, several praetorians alongside him, as he made for the assassin’s house. His guardsman had been lucky to catch the first shot, but they may not be so lucky again.

He looked up as they neared the building. Warriors were rushing out to stop them, but the legions were right behind him, filling the square. There was something happening on the roof.

Caesar shook his head.

“What?”

“Sir, you need to dismount, for safety!” Cicero sounded desperate.

“Unlikely” the general replied, drawing his sword. He turned to Sabinus, who had done the same.

“We may still be outnumbered!”

The officer grinned.

“I don’t think so, sir.”

He cupped his ear and pointed back down the main street. Above the din in the square, Caesar could clearly hear the cornicens of the legions calling out formation commands; and they were close. Maybe even outside the walls by now.

“Someone mobilised the legions without us” Sabinus grinned. “I wonder who would do something like that?”

Caesar nodded and turned once more to the areas of concentrated activity in the square. Something was happening on the partially dismantled roof of a building. That must be where the arrow came from. Ingenuus and his men, supported by heavy infantry, were now cleaving their way through the Aduatuci to reach the building, but someone was already there. The general squinted to try and see in more detail. There were three figures there, all apparently natives, and fighting a bitter struggle. As the general watched, the smaller and lighter of the three, clearly a man apart, thrust with a small blade and dispatched the archer, whose bow fell to the floor.

The man had no time to savour his kill though, for the other opponent, a great bearded brute of a fellow, leapt on him and began to pound and pummel. The two men vanished from sight among the stacks of thatch for long moments and the general frowned, turning his attention to ground level.

The Aduatuci had been well prepared, with hidden weapons and men in position throughout the line the Romans had taken. Had there not been a commotion in the square, the first thing they would have know of the barbarians’ betrayal would have been the general being swept from his horse by an arrow through the chest. Then all hell would have broken loose as the armed warriors dived upon the unprepared legionaries.

But things had gone wrong for the Aduatuci.

Someone had given the game away too early.

The general smiled. Because of that, the archer had released his arrow too early, and the legions were already deploying as the warriors collected their weapons.

“Thank you Fortuna. Good to see Fronto doesn’t have a monopoly on you.”

The square was already coming under Roman control and the sounds from back down toward the walls clearly indicated that the reserves that had been mysteriously mobilised were already engaging the Aduatuci that were trying to close the gates and trap their prey.

His eyes strayed once more to the roof of that building, just as the two figures, grappling and tearing at each other, punching and biting, battled their way out of the hidden stacks and to the edge of the roof where, with a last flurry of blows, both men tumbled from the parapet to the stone below with a crunch that was audible even over the dying sounds of battle.

Sabinus turned to Caesar.

“Do we give quarter, general?”