The Field of Swords Read online

  Brutus slithered back until he was clear and could run for his men.

  “On your feet, lads,” he said as he came to the first ranks of the Tenth. “You won’t get much sleep tonight.”

  As dawn approached, Julius was back looking over the plain. The sun came up behind him and there was a gray light long before it rose over the mountains. The Helvetii began to move into their marching order, and Julius watched as the warriors bullied the other castes onto their feet. Those with swords and spears had status, Julius could see. They did not carry supplies themselves, remaining free to fight and run. Julius watched for the moment when they would see the legions arrayed on the hill, and the time seemed to stretch endlessly.

  Behind him, Mark Antony waited with his legion and three others, cold and grim without breakfast or fires to warm them. It hardly seemed enough to tackle such a vast army, but Julius could think of nothing else to alter the balance.

  A horse galloped up from behind and Julius turned in fury to wave the man down before he was seen. He rose to a crouch as he saw the scout’s pale features, and when the man slid from his saddle, he could not speak at first for panting.

  “Sir, there is an enemy force on the hill to the west! A large number of them.”

  Julius looked back at the Helvetii in the dim light. They were getting ready to decamp, with no sign of panic or distress. Had they spotted his scouts and prepared a flanking position? His respect for the tribe increased a notch. And where was Brutus? The two forces clearly hadn’t met in the darkness, or the sound of battle would have been heard for miles. Had he climbed the wrong hill in the night? Julius swore aloud, furious with the setback. He had no way of communicating with his missing legions, and until they showed themselves, he dared not attack.

  “I’ll have his balls,” he promised, then turned to the men at his side.

  “No horns or signals. Just fall back. Pass the word to regroup at the stream.”

  As they moved away, Julius heard the tinny blaring of horns as the Helvetii began to move on. The frustration was appalling and the thought of having to take them in the thick forests was nothing like the crushing victory he had hoped for.

  Brutus waited for the sun to banish the dark shadows on the hill. He had the Tenth arranged before his Third Gallica, depending on their greater experience to stand anything the Helvetii could send against them. In addition, a part of his own legion were from Gaul. Julius had said a legion could be raised in less than a year. Living, working, and fighting together bound men stronger than anything, but there was always the nagging suspicion of what could happen if those men were ordered to fight their own people. When Brutus had asked them about the Helvetii, they had only shrugged at him, as if there could be no conflict. None of them were from the tribe, and those that had come to Rome for gold seemed to claim no special loyalty to those they had left behind. They had been the sort of mercenaries who lived for nothing except pay and found companionship only amongst their own kind. Brutus knew the regular silver and food of the legions would be a dream for some of them, but still he had placed the Tenth to take the first charge.

  Though he was unutterably weary after the climb, he had to admit Julius had an eye for good land. If anything, Brutus regretted leaving the extraordinarii back in the camp, but he could not have known the ascent would be easy, with only a few sprains and one broken arm from a bad fall in the darkness. Three men had lost their swords and now carried daggers, but they had crested the hill before dawn and gone over to the far slope without losing a single man. The legionary with the broken arm had strapped it to his chest and would fight left-handed. He had scorned being sent back and pointed to Ciro in the front rank of the Tenth, saying that the big man could throw his spears for him.

  In the first glimmers of gray light, Brutus sent whispered orders to dress the formation that stretched across the slopes. Even the veterans of the Tenth looked a little ragged after finding their positions in darkness, and his own legion needed the staffs of their optios to create order. They loosened the ties on their spears as he watched, and with four to a man, Brutus knew they would destroy any charge sent against them. The Helvetii carried oval shields, but the heavy spears would pin them to the ground, shields and all.

  The sun rose behind the mountains as the Helvetii marched unaware toward their position. Brutus felt the old excitement build as he waited for their soldiers to see the Tenth and Third looking down at them. He grinned in anticipation of the first rays of light, and when it came, he laughed aloud at the sight. The sun spread a beam across them from the peaks. Ten thousand helmets and sets of armor went from dull gray to gold in a few minutes. The yellow horsehair plumes of the centurions seemed to glow, and the column of the Helvetii staggered below on the plain as men pointed and shouted a warning.

  For the tribe, it was as if the legion had appeared out of nothing, and yet they were not without courage. As soon as the initial shock had faded, they saw the small army that clung to the slopes and almost as one they roared defiance, filling the valley.

  “There must be half a million of them. I swear by Mars, there must,” Brutus whispered.

  He saw the fighting phalanxes swarm to the front, bristling with spears as they began to accelerate over the ground between the armies. Their front ranks carried wide shields to batter the enemy, but the formations would never survive the broken ridges of the hill. They raced across the shifting scree like wolves, and Brutus shook his head in amazement at the numbers coming toward him.

  “Archers—range!” Brutus cried, watching as four arrows flew high and marked the outermost limit of their shots. He had only three hundred from the Ariminum legions and didn’t know how skilled they were. Against unprotected men, their fire could be devastating, but he doubted they would be more than an irritation to the Helvetii under their shields.

  “Ready spears!” he bellowed.

  The Tenth gathered their four, checking the points one last time. They would not aim them, but launch the heavy iron-headed weapons high into the air, so that they would be dropping almost vertically at the moment of impact. It called for skill, but it was their trade and they were experts.

  “Range!” Brutus shouted.

  He watched as Ciro tied a red cloth around the butt of one of his spears and heaved it into flight with a grunt. None of them could match the big man’s distance, and as the spear slammed quivering into the turf, Brutus had his outermost point marked, fifty paces short of the arrows farther down the rocky slope. When the Helvetii charge crossed those lines, they would be running through a hail of missiles. As they pushed past Ciro’s spear, forty thousand more would be launched in less than ten heartbeats.

  The Helvetii howled as they began to pound up the slope, and a dawn breeze skimmed the hillside, blowing dust off the plains.

  “Archers!” Brutus called and, ten ranks back, the lines of bowmen fired with smooth skill until their quivers were empty. Brutus watched the flight of arrows as they fell into the yelling men below, still out of range of the more deadly spears. Many of the shafts were deflected as the tribesmen raised their shields and ran on, leaving only a few bodies behind them. First blood had been taken. Brutus hoped Julius was ready.

  Julius was in the saddle when he heard the tribe roar. He jerked his horse round viciously, looking for the scout who had brought him the news.

  “Where is the man who told me the enemy were on the hill?” he shouted, his stomach suddenly dropping away in a hollow feeling.

  The call went round and the man came trotting up on his horse. He was very young and pink around the cheeks in the morning cold. Julius glared at him in terrible suspicion.

  “The enemy you reported. Tell me what you saw,” Julius said.

  The young scout stammered nervously under the stare of his general. “There were thousands up on the hill, sir. In the dark, I could not be sure of numbers, but there were many of them, sir. An ambush.”

  Julius closed his eyes for a moment.

  “Arrest
that man and hold him for punishment. Those were our legions, you stupid bastard.”

  Julius wheeled his horse, thinking furiously. They had not traveled more than a few miles from the plain. It might not be too late. He untied his helmet from the saddle horn and pulled it roughly over his face, turning the metal features to face the gathered men.

  “The Tenth and Third Gallica are without support. We will march at our fastest pace to attack the Helvetii. Straight in, gentlemen. Straight in, now.”

  Brutus waited as the Helvetii streamed past the ranging spear until it could not be seen. If he gave the order too early, the Third behind him could throw short. Too late and the crushing damage of seeing an attack destroyed would be wasted as the front ranks were passed over. “Spears!” Brutus cried at his best volume, launching his own into the air.

  Ten thousand arms jerked forward and then they were reaching for the second at their feet. Before the first wave landed, Brutus knew the Tenth would have two more in the air. The Third were slower, but only by a little, inspired by the example of the veterans and the nervous fear of the attack.

  He had judged it perfectly and the different ranks of the Tenth and Third sent spears in a carpet of whistling iron onto the enemy. Not just the front rank, but most of the first ten went from running warriors to broken corpses in moments. Hundreds died from the first wave, and the men who survived could see the black launch of the second coming at them, even as they urged each other on.

  There was no way to avoid the death from the air. The spears moved in flight to fall in groups or widely apart. One man could be struck with a cluster of them, or a whole charging line destroyed bar one, miraculously untouched. Though the Helvetii ducked under their shields, the heavy iron heads punched through wood and bone into the soft ground beneath. Brutus saw many tribesmen struggle to free their shields, sometimes pinned to others through the overlapping edges. Many of them still lived, but could not rise as their blood poured from them.

  Brutus watched as the attack stuttered to a stop. The third strike did less destruction and they pulled back from the last, running wildly from the men on the hill. The Tenth cheered as the Gauls turned, and Brutus looked east for Julius. If he sent in his legions at that moment, they could very well panic the Helvetii into a rout. There was no sign of him.

  The Helvetii re-formed at the edge of the range and began to advance once more over the bodies of their finest.

  “These men have never fought a legion of Rome!” Brutus called to the men around him.

  Some of them smiled, but their eyes were on the advancing hordes that made the broken bodies vanish as they climbed the hill again. A few of the legion spears were tugged from corpses and thrown up at the Tenth, but against the rise of the land, they fell short.

  “Ready swords!” Brutus ordered, and for the first time both legions drew their blades and held them high for the sun to catch. Brutus looked around him and raised his head proudly. Let them climb, he thought.

  As they began to pant and blow, the phalanx formations broke apart as the Helvetii neared the Roman lines. The Tenth waited patiently for them, each man standing amongst friends he had known for years. There was no fear in the Roman lines. They stood in perfect formation with the cornicens ready to rotate the front ranks as they tired. They carried swords of hard iron and all along the faces of his men Brutus could see eager anticipation. Some of the legionaries even beckoned to the warriors, urging them on. In a flash of insight, Brutus saw them as the Helvetii did, a wall of men and shields without gaps.

  The first of the Helvetii met the Tenth and were cut down with efficient ferocity. The hard Roman blades chopped into them all along the line, cutting arms and heads free in single blows. The long spears of the Helvetii could not pierce the Roman shields, and Brutus exulted at the toll.

  He stood in the third rank of the right and raised his head from the fascination of the carnage to view the position. There was a mass of men struggling to support their comrades and even more were streaming around the hill to flank them. He felt fresh sweat break out on his skin as he looked for Julius once again. The sun was in his eyes at that angle, but he squinted against the glare to the tree line.

  “Come on, come on,” he said aloud.

  Though it would be some time before the Helvetii could surround his men, if they reached the crest behind him the Tenth and Third would have no line of retreat. He groaned aloud in frustration as he saw the small number the Helvetii had left to guard the women and children. An attack at the rear would cause instant panic amongst the warriors.

  The sheer numbers of the charge began to cut gaps in the front rank of the Tenth. The velites were fast and lightly armored and though they could fight for two hours without a rest, Brutus thought of sending the heavy men in to keep them fresh for the retreat he may have to order. If Julius did not come quickly, Brutus knew he would have to take the legions back to the crest of the hill, fighting every inch of the way. It would be worse when they were followed down naked to the blades of the tribe behind.

  Brutus looked over the heads of his men, his heart pounding with anger. If he survived the retreat, he swore Julius would pay for the destruction of the Tenth. He knew almost all of them after the years in Spain, and every death was like a blow.

  Suddenly, in the distance, he saw the silvered lines of Julius’s legions surging onto the plain, and he shouted with pleasure and relief. The Helvetii of the column blew horns in warning and Brutus saw their phalanx reserves go out to meet the new threat. More horns sounded on the hill as the tribe halted and looked back at the plain. Brutus roared at them in incoherent triumph as they began to fall back from the Tenth, a gap opening between the armies. There would be no flanking movement then, with every warrior desperate to protect his spoils and his people.

  “Tenth and Third!” Brutus shouted, over and over to his left and right. They were ready for his orders and he raised his arm to sweep down toward the plain.

  “Close formation! Archers gather shafts as you find them! Charge Tenth! Charge Third!”

  Ten thousand men moved as one at his word, and Brutus thought his chest would burst with pride.

  The Helvetii had no cavalry and Julius sent the extraordinarii out to hammer their lines as they tried desperately to re-form to repel the new attack. As Julius marched with Mark Antony, he watched Octavian guide the lines of horsemen along an oblique angle to the Helvetii phalanxes. At full gallop, each man reached down to the long tube of leather at his leg and drew a thin javelin, releasing it with crushing accuracy. The Helvetii roared and brandished their shields, but Octavian would not close with them until the last spears had gone. By the time Julius reached the rear of the column, the reserves were in chaos and it was no difficulty to clear the last of them.

  At his order, the cornicens sounded the command to double their speed and twenty thousand legionaries broke into the dogtrot that could carry them for miles, straight at the enemy. The vast column of the Helvetii followers watched them in silence as they streamed by without even a call. There was no danger from them and Julius thought furiously how he should make the best use of the position.

  The warriors who had attacked the hill were in full panicked flight back to the column by then, and Julius smiled as he saw the shining squares of the Tenth and Third coming behind them, their tight formations making them look like silver plates in the dawn sun. The hill was littered with bodies and Julius saw the Helvetii had lost all direction, their phalanxes forgotten. Their fear was weakening them and Julius wanted it to increase. He considered calling the extraordinarii back to harass the column, but at that moment Octavian signaled a charge and the mass of horses formed into a great wedge that hammered into the running warriors. Julius waited until the extraordinarii had disengaged and were wheeling to go in again before he sent the signal to hold their position.

  “Ready spears!” Julius called. He hefted his own in his hand, feeling the solid weight of the wooden stock. Already, he could see the faces of th
e warriors running at him. There would barely be time for more than one throw before the armies met.

  “Spears!” he shouted, heaving his own into the air.

  The ranks around him blackened the sky with iron, and the front lines of the Helvetii were battered down. Before they could recover, the first legions met their charge and smashed through.

  The centurions behind kept up the barrage as each group came into range, and Julius roared as they went unstoppably deep into the mass of tribesmen. There were so many of them! His legionaries crushed anything that stood in their path, and the advance was so fast that Julius felt a stab of worry that he was inviting a flanking maneuver. The cornicens blew his warning to widen the line, and behind him the Ariminum legions spread out to envelop the enemy. The extraordinarii moved out with them, waiting to attack.

  A splash of blood caught Julius in the mouth as he slowed, and he spat quickly, rubbing his hand across his face. He called for second spears to be thrown in waves of ten ranks at a time, not even seeing where the iron spikes landed. It was a dangerous practice, as nothing damaged morale more than the weapons falling short into the Roman lines, but Julius needed every advantage to reduce the huge force of the tribe.

  The Helvetii fought with desperate ferocity, trying to get back to their main column, now unprotected behind the Roman legions. Those who were not in the front lines milled like bees at the edges, spreading farther out onto the plain. Julius countered with a wider and then wider front, until he had his four legions in a line only six deep, sweeping all before them.

  For a time, Julius could not see much of the battle. He fought as a foot soldier with the others and wished he had stayed on some high outcrop to direct the fighting.

  Brutus spread the Tenth and Third wide to cut off a retreat, and both legions hacked their way through while the sun rose and baked them. Boys ran amongst the ranks with leather bags of water for those who had drunk the ration they carried, and still they fought on.