Christopher Buckner - Swords of Rome

Several paces ahead of Gaius, he heard one of the legion prefect’s call-back, demanding that the rear guard, which comprise of the first cohort of the Sixth Legion and two cohorts of auxiliary troops to maintain the pace, as it seemed to be falling back from the main body.

“Bloody fool should get his ass back here and see if he can keep this pace up,” grumbled Valerius, which even Gaius, heard from where he was standing.

Gaius looked out towards the looming trees as visibility was becoming especially difficult as the snowfall picked up, coming down in violent sheets. It was nearly impossible to see anything beyond the faint outline of the forest, but then, for only a moment he caught sight of something standing out among the trees, staring right toward him: a white wolf.

Everything was eerily quiet, as if the world, the army, and his surroundings faded away until only he and the wolf, which stared at Gaius with unblinking eyes, remained.

Gaius felt himself reaching up to his chest, before placing his right hand over the spot where he wore the broken half of the clay medallion that Antony had given him ten years ago.

The wolf and the medallion, all seemed familiar, as if he had seen this same animal before.

“Lupus?” Gaius whispered softly, and subsequently all at once the noise of twenty thousand men marching rushed back as he blinked, and afterwards, the wolf was gone.

Gaius looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else had witnessed what he had, but those behind kept marching forward, like he, unaware of what was in the trees.

Gaius looked back to the trees, which were nearly impossible to see by now. The wolf was gone, as if it was never there. It was then that a horrible thought accrued to him, one that sent shivers of panic up his spine.

Gaius sudden broke from his formation to the dismay of those around him, and rushed back towards Valerius, who halted his horse, seemly ready to bark at Gaius for breaking rank, but Gaius never allowed Valerius a word as he spoke frantically.

“Valerius, we have to stop the army, now!”

“What are you babbling about, boy?” Valerius asked, confused and angry at the same time. In front of him, the first cohort of the Sixth stopped, which forced the long column of auxiliaries to end their march. Quickly, murmurs queried from man-to-man, all the way down the ranks.

“We have to stop the army, now, or we are all dead, Valerius. You have to believe me,” Gaius pleaded; his own words filled with terror, which quickly caused panic among the other men who were close enough to overhear him.

“An ambush?” Valerius pondered as his eyes began to scan the trees, seeing nothing but snow falling, and the ever consuming white haze that was obstructing his visibility.

“I don’t know. I wish I did, but I feel — “Gaius did not know what to say, or how to say what he’d seen. “I just know if we keep going, something terrible is going to happen to us. We have to warn Sempronius to turn us back, or to form ranks. Something before he marches us to our graves.”

“Damn it, boy,” Valerius lowered himself, speaking firmly. “Don’t you think I know this is foolhardy? However, there is nothing that can be done. We have to keep pressing forward until we reach the far side of the embankment, to open ground. If we stop now, or pull back, we are doomed regardless.”

“Then we have to form ranks, now, and make a stand. We may still have a chance.” Gaius reached out and placed his hand on Valerius’ shoe, squeezing it; his eyes opened wide with fear. “Please, Valerius, you have to trust me.”

The legate seemed ready to kick Gaius aside, perhaps even order one of his officers to take him into custody, but then, suddenly, after staring into Gaius’ eyes for a long while, his own expression changed.

“By the gods, “Valerius cursed under his breath. “Lepidus!” he then called out. A moment later one of his junior officers ran forward and saluted, awaiting his orders. “Hurry to Sempronius, at once, and inform him that I’m holding the march. There might be a risk of attack from the trees, and that, I’d advise him to do the same. Now go!”

“At once, Legate,” the young man replied as he ran on the outer edge of the formation, quickly disappearing into the mist and snow.

Valerius looked down at Gaius and spoke as he turned his horse, facing the trees now. “You’d better be right about this, or more than our careers will be over.”

“I pray that I’m wrong,” Gaius replied.

Valerius sneered as he cried out, “Form ranks.” Each man did so, turning to face the trees, the only way an attack could come, and joined their shields together, creating an unbreakable wall.

Gaius rejoined his men as well, taking his spot among them. His breathing quickened as he tried not to relieve himself, even though he was shaking terrible, and not because of the cold.

Silence fell upon the group of fifteen hundred plus Romans waited, listening for any hint that an attack was coming.

The trees were the only logical place for an ambush. With the river at their backs, some men standing in ankle-deep water, they waited. And then as the first ten minutes drifted by, the only sound that could be heard was the breathing of men and animals.

The running that Valerius sent forward came back into view, racing past Gaius, before he stopped before Valerius, who remained on horseback.

“Sir, Consul Sempronius demands that we rejoin the rest of the column, or as he said, he’ll have your head,” the runner relayed Sempronius’ instructions.

Valerius glanced down at Gaius, who stood in formation several dozen paces to his right, and stared at the young centurion.

For a moment, Gaius feared Valerius would do as he was instructed, but then, the old veteran turned his focused back to the runner and said, “Return to the Consul and inform him I’m holding position, until I’m confident an attack is not imminent. And, that I advise him to do the same — form ranks and look to the trees.”

The runner looked nervous, clearly afraid to repeat to Sempronius what Valerius had told him.

“Do as you are ordered, soldier,” Valerius ordered with a firm, but understanding tone.

“Yes, sir.” The massager ran off, again disappearing in the thick haze before he was gone from sight.

Gaius took a deep breath. He knew if the boy should return, more than likely it would be with a detachment of soldiers to relive Valerius of his command. All Gaius could do was glance back up at him, giving him worried eyes, mumbling his gratitude for believing him. Valerius did not reply, but held his position.

“You’re risking the legate’s live, Gaius. Are you a fool?” Agrippa muttered. The big man stood to Gaius’ left, and at glance, Gaius could see that his sentiment was shared by the rest of the men in his century as they stood uneasy, nor for threat of ambush, but for what Sempronius might do when he turned his men around and removed their commander from the Sixth.

“I’m not doing this because — “Gaius’ words were broken when his and every man’s attention was turned suddenly to the trees, as a strait of drums and horns blew, echoing, knocking snow from barren branches.

Gaius’ heart skipped a beat as the roars of thousands of bloodthirsty men cried out, yet unseen, but clearly heard, as if a powerful beast of unimaginable size dwelled within the forest.

“Hold formations and ready javelins!” Gaius heard Valerius bellow at the top of his lungs. His orders were repeated by each centurion up and down the formation, including Gaius, who had to lick his dry lips twice before he could repeat the command to his century.

A moment later a swirl of whistling sounds blew through the trees. Most of the men, too young to know what the terrible warning was, were unprepared as hundreds of arrows impacted against their shields and armor. A moment later, when the last shot struck its mark, a chorus of moans rang as men struck by the sharp projectiles, shrieked in horror as they were hit.