S. Turney - The conquest of Gaul

The General lunged at the other cavalryman, his sword flashing in the sun. He had taken his ornate gladius into battle, rather than a standard cavalry sword and the reach was unrealistic. There was no way he would be able to fight off the enemy for long, and he couldn’t lunge far enough to do serious damage with the short sword. The German swung his blade and the General was forced to throw himself forward, flat across the horse’s neck.

The other German reined his horse in a little and pulled his arm back, the spear ready for an over arm stab. He reared back and Ingenuus swung with the heavy blade, feeling the muscles in his shoulder tear with the effort. Unused to the weight of the blade, his swing was lower than he’d intended and dipped even further, losing power as the blade travelled. Far from hitting the man in the side and unhorsing him, the edge smashed into the man’s leg just above the knee, severing it messily and smashing into the horse’s side. The German slid from the other side of the horse, the severed leg falling to the ground and landing close to the forgotten spear. The horse reared in shock and pain, the wound in its side deep and long. The blow had certainly broken its ribs.

In pain and confusion, the horse blundered forward into the General’s. Caesar, locked deep in personal combat, was caught unawares as his horse panicked and bucked. The General was hurled into the air and crashed to the turf close by. Both Caesar’s white horse and the German’s chestnut panicked and thrashed for only a moment before running from the scene. Ingenuus rushed to help the General up, pausing only to stick his large Celtic sword into the one-legged German who rolled around on the floor in agony. The General was unhurt, apart likely from a little bruising and a pulled muscle or two. He stood, brushing himself down. The second German who had been locked in combat with the General had finally righted his nervous horse, just in time to face two of the bodyguards who had reached the scene. Leaving them to deal with the enemy, Ingenuus dropped the tip of his sword to the ground and leaned on the heavy hilt, wincing and rolling his shoulder. He breathed out, a deep relieved sigh, and then realised that he was in the presence of the commander of the entire army. He straightened.

“Apologies, General. Can I be of assistance?”

Caesar smiled at the tired and injured cavalry prefect.

“Aulus Ingenuus I believe. You’ve already assisted me, prefect. Looks like we’ve broken the wing, wouldn’t you say?”

The young officer glanced around at the scene wearily. There were shattered remains of the German cavalry force visible here and there through the Romans and Gauls. Few remained on the field, and those that did fought desperately for their life against tremendous odds. Some distance away a party of Germans fleeing the field were just visible over the trees.

“Yes sir. I’d say we’ve turned the wing. Permission to depart, sir? I need to find a horse and a Roman sword.”

Caesar frowned.

“You’re wounded, prefect. Look at the way you’re standing. You need to get to the valetudinarium, not the stables.”

Ingenuus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’ve a few aches and pains, sir, but I’ve no intention of leaving the field before any of the Germans.”

Caesar laughed.

“Very well. Shall we rally the cavalry and support the main push? Harry the enemy on the flanks?”

The prefect was opening his mouth and drawing breath to speak, when a regular cavalry trooper thundered to a halt next to him and saluted the General wearily. Glancing up, Ingenuus realised this was a decurion he used to serve with, one of Varus’ men now. The trooper was spattered with blood; some of it his own. A grisly sight. The man straightened, wincing at some invisible pain.

“General, Commander Varus wanted me to tell you that we ran into real heavy resistance on the left. We’re deep in the shit sir. Any help you can throw our way’d be real handy, sir.”

Ingenuus looked up at the General who tapped his lip.

“What does Crassus suggest?”

The trooper looked taken aback for a moment.

“ Crassus , sir? Never stopped to ask. He’s ridin’ around at the back making sure no one retreats! Being an arse, sir!”

Caesar frowned.

“You mean he’s led the cavalry into deep water and then left you there?”

“Not deep water, sir. Deep shit!”

Caesar leaned down to Ingenuus.

“What’s your opinion of our situation on this wing?”

Ingenuus put his finger to his lip.

“We could push the remnants out, harry the flank of the infantry and chase down the escapees with only half what we have here, sir. Once the remnants of the cavalry are gone, we could try to remove some of their wagons and have a go at the rear, but it would be dangerous.”

“I tend to agree, prefect. You feel up to the job?”

“Yes sir.”

Caesar smiled again as the young man came painfully to attention.

“Good. And stop doing that… you’ll break something. I’ll take half the cavalry round the edge of the field to aid the left and pick up the third reserve line as I go. You take command here, but don’t try for their flanks. There are too many wagons and defences round their sides and rear and that’s a job for the infantry. Chase them down. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve seen to the left wing.”

Ingenuus nodded.

“Yes sir. With pleasure.”

* * * * *

Varus dared a quick look over his shoulder. The rear ranks of the left wing had thinned out rather seriously. Crassus had been pushing and driving all the time, sending forward any spare men he could find the moment he spotted a gap. There was no longer a reserve, no support. Everyone was on the front line and they were still outnumbered.

The enemy horsemen were, as previously, supported on a one-to-one basis by footmen armed with swords or spears and there were a great number of riderless horses and dismounted cavalry littering the field. The prefect’s attention was drawn back to the current predicament as the shaft of a spear drove past his shoulder. With a twist of his wrist, he flipped his sword and neatly cut the tip from the spear. Turning back to the man assailing him, he slashed twice in wide arcs, cutting the man across the chest and face. The German toppled from his horse, adding to the numerous bodies strewn across the grass, mostly Roman. He spotted one of the decurions nearby and shouted to attract his attention.

“Keep the line closed. No-one’s to be a hero. Just protect yourselves until help arrives. I’m going to see the commander.”

The decurion gave a barely perceptible nod and went back to fighting for his life, shouting orders out above the noise. Shaking his head with anger, Varus wheeled his horse and rode away from the danger toward Crassus, alone at the rear on his horse. The primus pilus of the Seventh was controlling the infantry while his legate dealt with the cavalry.

“Sir?”

“Yes, prefect?”

Varus came to a halt in front of the commander.

“Sir, you must pull in the third line of the legions; the reserve. We need them.”

“I won’t have cowardice in my cavalry, prefect. We match them in strength.”

Varus growled audibly, the tip of his sword dipping dangerously toward his superior.

“If we weren’t in battle, I’d kill you for that. We don’t match them in strength. We’re nowhere near. They outnumber us almost three to one with their infantry. We need to learn from them ! We need infantry support!”

Crassus sneered.

“You are dismissed, prefect. You may leave the field.”

Varus growled again.

“ You should leave the field, you puffed up, inbred, ignorant lunatic. I’ve got to look after my lads until support arrives.”