Ben Kane - Eagles at War

Tullus held up his hand, and was given another pilum.

Down came their first effort, forty javelins, striking the berserkers like heavy rain on immature wheat. Many of the warriors fell, but Tullus had no chance to count them. Caedicius had ordered another volley – short this time. Up went two score more pila, and down again, their pyramidal iron points ripping into the unarmoured berserkers like hot knives through cheese.

Tullus stared. Counted. Let out an incredulous laugh. Two berserkers remained standing, and one had a javelin protruding from his left leg, crippling him. The pair were no cowards, however. The uninjured man charged on alone, and his companion hobbled after.

The mass of warriors behind continued to advance, yet the annihilation of the berserkers had silenced their barritus, and seen their pace slow to a walk.

Grabbing a pilum from a soldier behind him, Tullus hurled it from fifteen paces. The throw was as good as any he’d ever made. It hit the lead berserker in the chest, felling him like an ox struck with a hammer and spike.

‘Come on, you maggot!’ roared Tullus at the last berserker, who had stopped in his tracks. ‘Come and die on Roman iron!’

Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. The sound of Roman trumpets was unmistakeable – and they were sounding the advance, double time.

Tullus’ breath caught in his chest.

The wounded berserker cocked his head. He listened for several heartbeats, and then he began shuffling backwards, away from the Romans.

Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. It was closer this time.

The berserker increased his pace, moaning with the pain it caused him. The front ranks of the warriors wavered a little.

‘ROMA! ROMA! ROMA!’ roared the legionaries.

Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara. Tan-tara-tara.

Like a flock of panicked sheep, the warriors turned tail and ran. They didn’t stop. They didn’t look back, except in terror.

The soldiers’ cheering redoubled. It was a small victory – but one to be savoured.

Tullus breathed again and the air felt sweet in his lungs.

Caedicius’ cunning had left the road to Vetera – and safety – open. He, Tullus, would survive. So would Fenestela and his remaining men. And the girl. Even the pup would make it. He laughed as the clouds parted, spilling golden sunlight over the sodden landscape.