Simon Scarrow4_ - The Eagle and the Wolves

Macro suddenly appeared, shoving his way through the rear ranks of his men. He saw Cato and nodded grudgingly.

'Nice work… Take your men forward and make sure the route to the enclosure is kept open.'

'Right.'

'As my lot get close to the gate, you get yours inside. Be ready to close it the instant the last man passes through.'

Cato smiled faintly. 'That wouldn't be you, by any chance?'

'Get going.'

'Yes, sir.'

Cato trotted back to his men and ordered them forward. They met no further resistance from the Durotrigans who had been separated from the main body of the enemy, and the only ones they saw quickly ran off at the sight of Cato and his men. Then the street widened slightly as it turned a corner and there was the entrance to the royal enclosure. The gates were open and several of the king's bodyguard, fully armed, were standing along the palisade on either side. Cadminius stood in the entrance and beckoned to Cato and his men as they approached. Cato ran over to him.

'Macro and the last of our men are not far behind. We'll have to keep the gate open for them.'

'Keep it open?' Cadminius shook his head. 'Can't risk it. Get your men in and Macro'll have to take his chances.'

'No,' Cato said firmly. 'The gate stays open until I say.'

Cadminius opened his mouth to protest, but there was a ruthless gleam in Cato's eyes, and the Atrebatan looked away and nodded.

'All right… We'll need every man we can get to defend the enclosure.'

'That's right,' Cato replied quietly. He turned back to his men. 'Inside. Behind the gate, close formation.'

As the Wolves marched inside, Cato indicated the position for Mandrax, and the men formed up around their standard, facing back down the street towards the sounds of fighting. They did not have to wait long for the legionaries to appear. Macro's men came into sight, falling back at a steady pace, keeping a tight formation across the street as they fended off the Durotrigan mass desperately trying to force a way through the shields.

'Pass all the javelins to the front!' Cato called out to his men, and the few remaining javelins were thrust forward into the hands of the men of the front rank, who quickly sheathed their swords.

'You'll be using them as spears,' Cato said. 'No throwing. Front rank, close up, overlapping shields! Two paces forward. Thrust over the rims.'

There was a clatter as the men aligned their shields and readied their javelins in a tight overhead grip. This way they would have a longer strike range, and present a more unnerving danger to the Durotrigans as the iron tips stabbed towards their eyes. Then they waited silently, watching through the gateway as their Roman allies retreated towards them. Cato went forward to join Cadminius and a small group of warriors standing ready to close the gate the moment the order was given.

From the Roman ranks Macro shouted an order for the rear two lines to break formation and man the palisade. The men trotted past the sides of the Wolves and hurried up on to the narrow sentry walk either side of the gate. The Roman line, thinner now, gave way more easily under the pressure of the Durotrigan horde, and Cato feared it might cave in before Macro and his men reached them. The enemy saw the opportunity as well, and threw themselves forward in a renewed frenzy of hacking and slashing blades. As the legionaries reached the enclosure they were no longer able to maintain formation and stumbled back from the screaming mob. Then they were passing through the gate, exhausted and gasping for breath, but aware enough to keep clear of Cato's men. There was Macro, in a small knot of legionaries, cursing and shouting his defiance into the faces of his enemies as he thrust his blade at them, legs poised for balance as he carefully backed towards the safety of the enclosure.

With a quick rearward glance, Macro sized up the position and after a final savage roar at the Durotrigans he shouted to the last of his men, 'Run for it!'

They turned and sprinted through the gate as Cato ordered his spearmen forward. At the sight of the wicked iron javelin points protruding over the wall of oval auxiliary shields the Durotrigans instinctively shrank back.

'Close the gate!' Cato shouted, throwing his shoulder to the timbers as Cadminius and his warriors quickly heaved the gate into place. Suddenly the gate shivered and started to swing back as the Durotrigans recovered and charged forwards again.

'Help! Help here!' Cato cried out, and the Wolves surged forward, adding their weight to those desperately trying to seal the entrance. For a moment the gate was still, caught between the two straining forces, then Cato felt his boots sliding backwards.

'Heave! Come on, you bastards! Heave!'

More men joined them, Macro and his legionaries among them, and the gate was held still again, no more than a foot from the timber frame and locking bracket. Macro drew back and looked up to the men on the palisade.

'Use your daggers! Hit 'em with anything you've got. Throw your fucking swords at them, if you have to!'

As the men drew their daggers and hurled them down into the dense mass straining at the gate, the enemy's attention was distracted for a crucial moment, and with one last effort the defenders closed the gate and slammed the locking bar home.

While some of the men slumped to the ground or bent double as they struggled to catch their breath Cato forced himself to stand upright. He picked up his shield, pushed his way through the men and climbed the short ladder up to the palisade. Keeping his shield raised he looked down and saw that the Durotrigans were already melting away from the enclosure, until only a small handful still hammered away at the timbers with their swords and spears.

'Keep hitting 'em,' Cato shouted to the men beside him, then leaned back to the men inside the entrance. 'Get every javelin up here, now!'

As soon as the iron-headed shafts began to strike down amongst them, even the most resolute of the Durotrigans recognised that their rage was useless, and they ran back from the gate, down the street and out of range. Cato nodded his satisfaction, and then dropped down into the enclosure to find Macro. His friend was sitting on the ground, bare-headed as he examined a dent on the top of his helmet. He ran his fingers tenderly across the scar on his scalp.

'You all right, Macro?'

The centurion nodded, and blinked his eyes. 'I'll be fine. Just a bit dizzy. Some bastard whacked me right above that injury… Give us a hand.'

Cato grasped his arm and heaved the other man to his feet. He looked round the exhausted faces inside the gate. 'Where's Figulus?'

'He was knocked over back there.'

'Dead?'

'I didn't see.'

Cato nodded once, then turned towards the gate. 'Our friends have gone, for the moment.'

Macro nodded, then looked up at the sky. It was near sunset, and a brilliant orange spread across the horizon.

'It'll be dark soon.' Macro looked at Cato. 'We'd better get some torches lit. Somehow I don't think Tincommius and his pals are going to give us an easy night.'

04 The Eagle and the Wolves

A strange silence settled over Calleva once night had fallen. In the royal enclosure Macro had ordered most of the men to rest. After the enemy had pulled back Macro had thrown his men into constructing an inner redoubt around the entrance of the great hall. All the spare wagons and carts had been heaved together to form a small semi-circle backing on to the stout stone walls of the hall. Wicker baskets were filled with soil and crammed beneath the wagons to reinforce them and hold them in position, and benches were brought from inside the hall to provide the defenders with a breastwork to fight behind. If the outer wall fell, which it must, thanks to its being little more than a glorified fence, then everyone would retreat to this last redoubt, and after that a last stand inside the great hall, guarding the king's bedchamber.