Simon Scarrow - The Eagle In the Sand

'Forward!' he shouted, and the reserve tramped towards the gap, keeping pace as their shields rose and the tips of their javelins were lowered towards the enemy.The first of the Judaeans burst through the red-tinted cloud of dust, his battle cry dying on his lips as he fell straight on to the points of two of the auxiliaries to the side of Cato. They ripped their weapons from the man's guts and closed on the gap in the wall, just as more men scrambled through it, screaming and waving their swords in the glow of the flames licking up into the night sky above the fort. For an instant there was a gap of a spear's length between the two sides and then the Judaeans were pressed up against the broad oval Roman shields, hammering away at them with the pommels of their swords, or slashing at any part of the defenders that came within reach of their blades. The first rank of auxiliaries could not wield their javelins in the crush and thrust them back to the men behind before drawing their swords and hacking and thrusting at the enemy before them. Those in the second and third ranks held their javelins overhead and stabbed at the faces in the front rank of the enemy horde trying to force its way through the breach.

Above the rasp and scrape of weapons and the grunts and shouts of the men packed around him, Cato heard Macro's voice shout a warning to the men still on the wall.

'Ladders! They're bringing ladders up! Draw swords!'

Cato's awareness of the fight raging on either side of the breach suddenly faded as he felt the point of a blade slice into his calf. He groaned with pain and rage through gritted teeth and glanced down. A small, lithe boy had dropped low and squeezed under his shield, even though he risked being trampled to death. He had a short curved dagger in his hand and drew it back to strike again at Cato's leg.Without a thought, Cato slammed the bottom rim of his shield into the back of the boy's neck. The child spasmed, dropped the knife and slumped to the ground. Before Cato's mind could even register that he had felled a child, a horribly scarred face appeared at the top of his shield, and a point of a levelled sword flickered forwards. Cato just had time to turn his head aside and the sword struck his cheek guard and was deflected over his shoulder. For an instant Cato was dazed by the blow, but by the time the white splashes had faded from his vision one of his men had sliced almost through the man's arm and he fell away with a scream. Cato shook his head to try to clear the dizziness and pushed forward again, ramming his shield into the tightly packed press of bodies trying to force their way into the fort. There was no longer any room for any general exchange of blows as the men from both sides were crushed against each other by the pressure of the rear ranks and the struggle became simply a question of strength. Cato leaned his shoulder into the back of his shield and braced his legs and shoved against the enemy.

On the fighting platform Macro looked down into the breach and was relieved to see that the Judaeans were being held back for now. The wavering crest of a centurion in the heart of the struggle showed that Cato still lived and was leading his men from the front. Then Macro snatched his eyes away from the breach and glanced back into the heart of the fort. Fires were raging all around the fight for the inner wall and even as Centurion Parmenion and his men were busy trying to extinguish the flames fresh incendiary arrows and clay pots of inflammables continued to cross the wall in high flaring arcs before plunging down and adding to the blaze. The men around Macro were in danger of being caught between the flames and the force assaulting the breach. There was only one thing to be done, Macro decided grimly. They must hold the inner wall at all costs, and then drive the enemy off so that they could turn their efforts towards fighting the fires, before the Judaeans could summon up the courage to make another attempt to break in.

On either side of the breach the enemy were trying to throw their assault ladders up against the breastwork. Each time the arms of the ladders slapped against the walls the auxiliaries frantically tried to thrust them back, before the first of the attackers could swarm up the rungs and fight his way over the wall. Directly in front of Macro, two roughly hewn shafts of wood appeared and he sprang towards the wall, shield raised and sword held ready. An instant later a turbaned head appeared, the metal spike of a conical helmet protruding from the cloth. Dark eyes glared at Macro, and the man hissed through clenched teeth as he climbed another rung and paused to take a swing at the Roman officer with the heavy sword in his spare hand. Macro swept his blade across to block the blow and then punched the heavy brass pommel into the man's face, knocking him cold, and he fell back on to the men at the base of the ladder, dropping his weapon at Macro's feet. At once Macro thrust the ladder away from the wall, then glanced to his left and saw an enemy atop another ladder battling it out with a legionary. He turned, stepped towards the ladder and slammed the point of his sword into the man's chest. The impact thudded down Macro's arm and the man died with an explosive grunt as the blow drove the air from his lungs. Macro wrenched the sword free and the body tumbled down the rungs.

There was no immediate threat and Macro looked round again and saw that the auxiliaries were still holding the enemy back. They had not been able to gain a foothold anywhere on the wall and Cato had them stalled in the breach of the inner wall. Now was the time to break their will. Macro's toe stubbed against a loose rock on the fighting platform and he glanced down at it in anger, then smiled. He sheathed his bloody sword and snatched the rock up. Taking quick aim he hurled it into the mob pressing up against Cato and his men. The rock struck a man on the side of the head and his eyes rolled up and he slumped back as he lost consciousness, blood coursing from the tear in his scalp. Macro snatched up another rock, from the wall this time, and hurled it into the crowd. He looked across the gap to a handful of auxiliaries staring forward, waiting to be attacked, while the ladder parties were trying to assault the wall a little further away.

'You men!' Macro bellowed across the gap and they turned to him at once, conditioned to the imperative tone of the parade ground. 'Use rocks, javelins, whatever you can get your hands on and hit them. Like this!'

Macro looked down, saw the enemy's sword, grabbed it and hurled it into the mob, grinning with satisfaction as the blade struck another attacker in the shoulder. The auxiliaries began to pluck loose chunks of masonry from the wall and rained them down on to the heads of the enemy packed helplessly below them. It was impossible to miss, and the Judaeans could only watch as the Romans picked them off in a killing frenzy. A few of them tried to hurl stones back but were thwarted by the men crowding around them. At last those in the less compact part of the crowd outside the breach began to give way.At once the pressure of the back ranks eased and Cato and his men began to creep forward, heaving their shoulders against the insides of their shields. As the pressure in front of them eased they increased their pace, bearing the attackers back into and through the breach. As the crest of Cato's helmet appeared on the far side of the inner wall and then more Romans appeared, a low moan of despair rose up from the enemy ranks. They began to back away, even as the more resolute of their comrades screamed at them to keep fighting. But once the contagion of fear and uncertainty spread there was no stopping it, and the enemy fell back from the inner wall, clambering awkwardly up the rubble slope and out of the fort.

As they retreated, Cato seized the chance to press home the advantage, and waved his troops on.