Адриан Голдсуорти - The Encircling Sea

A tall man clambered onto the top of the barricade. Bareheaded, his long blond hair and thick beard were a stark contrast to his drab clothes and black shield. He brandished a black-shafted spear and his mouth was open, teeth bared, but he made no sound. ‘Bastard!’ Segovax screamed.

‘Stay with us,’ Ferox yelled at him, sensing the man’s hatred. Two pirates scrambled over the barricade and jumped onto the causeway. ‘Back!’ Ferox called again. He knew that they were close now.

‘Come on!’ That was Longinus, and Ferox risked a quick glance over his shoulder. The Batavian covering their rear was past the wall and back in the entrance. Longinus and Vindex were at the wall, swords and shields ready.

‘Nearly there, boy,’ the centurion told the others.

The enemy charged, three swordsmen in front, a pair behind with spears, and the blond-haired warrior urging them on from behind. A stone smashed into the causeway at their feet. One of the pirates looked up and a second rock struck him full in the face, snapping his helmeted head back. The others faltered, raising their shields and two more stones flung from the top of the tower thumped onto the wooden boards. Back on the shore, the bowmen started to shoot up. A last stone came, hitting a man on the toe of his boot and making him yelp, but then there were no more.

More pirates came over the barricade, forming behind their comrades and raising their shields over their heads. The formation was rough, not the well-practised testudo making a roof of shields of well-trained legionaries or auxiliaries, but it would do. Ferox and his men reached cover, and he pushed the others behind him so that he stood in the gap next to the wall. Longinus nodded to him. Segovax stayed close behind his shoulder.

The Harii shuffled forward, keeping together. Arrows whipped through the air, seeking out the men on the top of the tower. A stone came back and bounced harmlessly off the roof of shields, prompting two more shafts. Ferox could see the faces of the three men in the front rank, their teeth bared and eyes wild. No doubt he and his men looked much the same. The one facing him had a spear, so must have replaced the one hit on the head with a stone. The weapon was long and awkward in such a close formation, and after a few tentative thrusts, he lowered it so that it was underarm. It would have been better to drop it and draw his sword, but Ferox never minded the enemy making a mistake.

They were close now, and after another step the arm lunged with the spear, aiming below his shield at his unprotected calves. Ferox cut across with his sword, saw splinters come from the wooden shaft, but knew that he had not done much damage.

‘Huh!’ the three pirates grunted as they came forward together, close enough that Ferox could see that the spearman had stained teeth and a scar across the bridge of his nose. The man feinted low, and then turned it into an upwards thrust, trying to get past the side of his shield. He blocked it, the spearhead biting through the calfskin outer layer and the board of his shield. Ferox stabbed forward, elbow back and sword at eye level, and the pirate tried to dodge back, but the next rank was too close and the long point of the gladius speared into his left eye. It was not a fatal wound, for he had pulled away enough to stop that, but the black-clad man dropped his spear and staggered back. The roof of shields wavered. A stone dropped from up above, through the opening and fell harmlessly onto the ground, somehow missing everyone in the crowd. The testudo closed again and the next missile banged off the overlapping shields.

Longinus and Vindex were watching their opponents, waiting for a chance, and the enemy were just as cautious. After a moment of confusion, the wounded pirate was hustled to the back of the formation and a new opponent came at Ferox. This one had dyed his beard black, but the dye was washing out and there was plenty of pale grey in it. He had his sword up, matching Ferox’s stance. The pirate feinted, but held back when the centurion twitched his shield up and was about to jab forward.

‘You’re going to die, Roman.’ The man hissed in a thick Rhineland accent. It was a shock, because these warriors so rarely made any sound. Ferox did not have the breath to spare for an answer. Next to him, Longinus took a cut to the shoulder, but it was not a strong blow and his mail was not broken. Vindex slashed and was rewarded with a yelp as he grazed the face between the cheek pieces of a helmet.

Ferox’s opponent punched at him with his shield, a savage blow that rocked him back and he only just had time to sway to the side as the point of the man’s gladius stabbed where his head had just been.

‘You’re going to die.’ The man was laughing, but the sound was nervous and Ferox had already recovered. A bold warrior would have followed up the advantage and tried to push him back, but men in a testudo liked to huddle together because it made them feel safer. Ferox was tired, his legs and arms feeling as heavy as lead and just as soft, but he stamped his left foot forward and punched with the boss of his own shield, wishing he had a solid legionary scutum rather than this light shield taken from the pirates. The man gave way only a little and laughed at him again.

A large block of stone hit the roof of the entrance way just behind him, flinging pebbles and shards of rock against his back. A Batavian swore vilely in a mixture of his own language and camp Latin. Ferox’s opponent attacked, sword low and trying to slip past the side of his shield, but failing.

The grey stone was almost a foot long and half as big on each side and hit the top of the shield above the pirate’s head, brushing it aside and slamming on to his helmet. Ferox glimpsed the bronze being crushed by the weight and the man fell. Another missile followed, almost as big and far larger that the hand-sized missiles they had gathered in preparation. It shattered one of the black oval shields and the formation scattered as another warrior dropped, his shoulder broken. Men were screaming, panicking, and then a splash of steaming liquid spattered down. There was not much, but one man was screaming as his face burned, and others cursed or yelled in pain. Ferox smelt the rancid tang of burning olive oil and heard a woman’s excited shout.

The archers stopped shooting. Behind the ruined testudo stood the blond-haired warrior, staring in shock at the carnage.

‘Bastard!’ Segovax pushed at Ferox so that he had to drop his sword and grab onto the wall to stop himself being shoved off the causeway. The northerner ran at the warrior, vaulting over the dead and injured. There was no trace of his limp as he sped along. A pirate, his helmet wrenched off and one side of his face red and blistered from the oil, blocked his path. Segovax ducked a wild stroke and slashed at the man, his blade striking just under the knee and cutting clean through the man’s leg. The pirate fell, stump up in the air and spouting blood.

The tall warrior recognised him. He waited, then threw his heavy spear. Segovax raised his shield in time, but the iron head burst through the wood and kept going, striking him on the chest, so that he staggered back. The blond drew his gladius and rushed forward. Segovax threw down his useless shield, but his boot was in a slick patch of blood and he slipped, falling forward. The blond yelled in triumph, shouting something Ferox did not understand and brought his sword up ready, and ran at him.

Segovax dived, rolling as he hit the ground and thrusting up. It was instinct more than anything else, and if he missed he was surely dead, but the stubby point of his army issue sword took the blond in the groin. The shout of victory turned into an unearthly shriek of pain. The northerner twisted the blade and then pushed it in harder with both hands. Scream turning into a sob, the pirate toppled over. Segovax stood, and grabbed the man by the hair, lifting him half up. He hacked with his sword at the pirate’s neck. The third cut finished the job.