Simon Scarrow - When the Eagle hunts

'This isn't going very well,' Vespasian grumbled, watching the distant battle in front of the gate. Most of the men on the

bastion were down, and the British fire was concentrated on the legionaries massed by the gate. Already the ground was littered with red shields and the grey mail armour of the Romans.

'We could call them back, sir,' suggested Plinius. 'Lay down another barrage and try again.'

'No,' Vespasian replied curtly. Plinius looked at him, waiting for an explanation but the legate remained silent. Any relaxing of the pressure on the front gate would put Cato and his men at risk. For all the legate knew, they might already be dead, but he had to assume their part of the plan was going ahead. Only Cato could save the hostages now.

He must be given a chance. hat meant the First Cohort had to remain in the killing ground outside the hill fort's gate.

There was another reason,' for keeping them there: If he ordered them back down tlae rampart, they would lose more men on the way. Then, while the bolt throwers renewed their barrage, the survivors of [ie first assault would have to wait, knowing they had t0'face the perils of the attack all over again. Vespasian could well imagine what that might do to their fighting spirit. What they needed up there right now was encouragement, something to strengthen their resolve.

'Get my horse, and get another for the eagle-bearer.'

'You're not going up there,'sir?' Plinius was shocked.

'Get the horses.'

While the mounts were fetched, Vespasian tightened the ties under his helmet. He looked at the eagle-bearer and was reassured by the man's easy composure, one of the key qualities looked for in men picked for the honour of carrying the eagle into battle. The horses were rushed to them by running slaves and the reins handed over. Vespasian and the eagle-bearer swung themselves up.

'Sir!' Plinius called out. 'If anything happens to you, what are your orders?'

'Why, to take the hill fort of course!'

With a swift kick of his heels Vespasian urged his horse towards the foot of the ramp, pounding across the open ground with the eagle-bearer just behind him, reins in one hand, the shaft of the standard clenched in the other. Up the ramp they galloped, swerving round at the first dogleg and on to the second ramp. Here lay the first Roman casualties, pierced by arrows or crushed by stones, their blood pooling on the track amid the feathered shafts that seemed to have sprung up from the soil. The wounded, seeing the horsemen approach, painfully hauled themselves to the side of the track, some of them managing to raise a cheer for the legate as he thundered past.

They turned the second dogleg, and quickly reined in as they came up against the rearmost century of the First Cohort.

'On foot!' Vespasian shouted over his shoulder to the eagle-bearer, and swung himself from the back of his horse.

At once they were spotted by the defenders above them, and an instant later Vespasian's horse screeched as an arrow whacked into its flank. It reared up, front legs flailing, before scrabbling round to tear back down the ramp. More arrows and slingshot thudded home around the legate. He looked around and snatched a shield from the ground where it had fallen beside its dead owner. The eagle-bearer found another.

Both of them pushed forward into the tightly packed ranks ahead.

'Make way! Make way there!' Vespasian called.

The legionaries parted at the sound of his voice, some with looks of blank astonishment. " 'What the fuck is he doing up here?' an awestruck youngster wondered.

'Didn't think you were getting the enemy all to yourself, did you, son?' Vespasian shouted as he passed by. 'Come on, lads, one last push, then we'll put paid to those bastards!'

A ragged cheer rippled oat from the men as Vespasian and the eagle-bearer made their, way up towards the gate, arrows and slingshot rattling "off their shields. When he reached the flat ground be,fore the fortified timber gate, Vespasian tried to hide his de,s.pair at the scene before him.

Most of the engineers were d6/t.d, heaped round their ladders and to the side of the battering ram. The ram was now manned by legionaries who had had to lay down their shields to take up their position on the thick iron capped shaft of oak. Even as he watched, anothe man fell, shot through the gap between his helmet and his mail vest. The senior centurion thrust a replacement forward, but the legionary hesitated, looking anxiously at t'he savage faces screaming at him above the gate., Vespasian ran forward. 'Out of my way, son!'

He dropped his shield and. grabbed the rope handle, joining the rhythmic swing of the other men on the ram. As it smashed into the gate, with a shattering crash, Vespasian could see that the big timbers were starting to give way.

'Come on, men!' he shouted to the others along the ram.

'We're not being paid by the bloody hour!'

As soon as the Durotriges saw the legate they let out a great roar of defiance and turned their weapons on the enemy commander, and the man bearing the dreaded symbol of the eagle. The men of the First Cohort responded with a deafening cheer and renewed effort, hurling up their remaining javelins into the marred ranks of the Durotriges. Others snatched at the slingshots lying on the ground to hurl them at the defenders.

Another man fell beside the ram. This time the senior centurion threw his shield down and took the vacant position.

Once again the ram slammed forward. With a crack, the central beam on the gate broke in two, and the surrounding timbers were wrenched out of alignment. Through the gaps the Romans could see the snarling faces of Durotriges and Druids massed on the other side. Through a narrow gap Vespasian spotted the locking bar.

'There!' He raised a hand to point. 'Shift the head to there!'

The line of the ram was quickly adjusted, and they swung again, forcing the gap to open wider. The locking bar shuddered in its brackets.

'Harder!' Vespasian shouted above the din. 'Harder!'

Each blow splintered more of the timbers until with a last wild swing the locking bar shattered. Immediately the gates gave way.

'Get the ram back!'

They backed up several feet and laid it down. Someone handed Vespasian a shield. He slipped his left arm into the straps and drew his sword, holding it horizontally at hip height. He breathed deeply, ready to lead his men through the gateway.

'Eagle-bearer!'

'Sir!'

'Stay close to me, lad.'

Yes, sir.

'First Cohort!' the legate bellowed at the top of his voice.

'Advance!'

With a deep roar from hiandreds of throats, the scarlet shields charged the gates aad crashed into the screaming ranks of the tribesmen beyord. Packed in with the front rank of the First Cohort Vespasian kept his shield up and thrust into the dense mass of humanity before him, sinking his blade into flesh, then.t.'isting and wrenching it back, before striking again. All around him men screamed, shouted their warcries, grunting with the effort of each thrust and slash, crying out in agony as th.ey were wounded. The dead and injured fell to the ground, those still living struggled to protect themselves beneath th6ir shields and avoid being trampled to death.

At first, the dense mass of lomans and Durotriges was locked solid, neither, giving-an inch of ground But as men fell, the tribesmen began'to give ground, thrust back before the shield wall of the Romans. The ground beneath Vespasian's boots was slick with churned mud and warm blood. His greatest fear at that moment was that he might lose his footing and slip.

The First Cohort ground forward, hacking a path through the Durotriges. The defenders, urged on by the Druids in their ranks, fought with desperate courage. Tightly packed as they were, their long swords and war spears were almost impossible to wield effectively. Some dropped their main weapons and used their daggers instead, trying to wrench the Roman shields aside and stab at the men sheltering behind. But few of the Durotriges were armoured and their exposed flesh was easy prey for the lethal swords of the legionaries.