Vibius the Butcher was master of war.
Vibius the Butcher had slaughtered his way across the north coast of Africa.
Vibius the Butcher commanded an army of veterans who had seen more combat than any force in the known world.
Vibius the Butcher wasn't around.
Rubbing his temple centurion Varo struggled with the worry his command had thrust upon him. He didn't mind commanding a ragged centuria of hastati, the pay was good and as one of the few officers left in the African continent he enjoyed quite a lot of prestige. But as a centurion he wasn't supposed to make the strategic decisions dammit!
When Vibius had left Africa to pursue the attack on the Carthaginians in Iberia he had left small contingents to garrison the cities he had taken from them. Varo had volunteered his damaged centuria of hastati to garrison the town of Hippo Regius. He had seen it as a nice retirement after the many battles and sieges against their hated foes.
It had sounded nice: good pay, peace and your own little piece of land to till.
Of course he, nor Vibius apparently, hadn't counted on the citizens in the town to hate them. Which had been stupid considering they had put quite a few of them to the sword when they had seized the town...but it was easy thinking of such things after the main army had sailed off.
So the retirement hadn't been that great: Constant strikes, constant rioting...and the complaints had come in in droves!
Still, Varo had endured, he owed Rome that much. Besides, he'd gotten a beautiful Numidian wife, had a two year old son and another child on the way...which made the reason for him marching out of the town quite a bitter one.
They had managed to keep things working in the towns...until the Numidians of all people hit! During the Carthaginian campaign there had been a silent agreement that the Roman armies left the dark skinned tribes in the south alone, and they in turn didn't intervene during the Roman seizure of the African coast.
Apparently that deal was broken now, Varo had received word that the city of Kirtha was besieged by roughly five hundred Numidians, the tribal warriors keeping the farmers away from their lands by the sound of it. Though a little more than a hundred strong the garrison in the town would be able to repel any storming attempt by virtue of their heavy armour and walls...which did nothing against starvation of course.
So Varo had made a decision he'd never wanted to make. He had sent two ships out, one to Rome herself, another to Iberia to chase down Vibius and his army, both carried the same message: help us from the Numidians! That would take time though, and meanwhile the already strained garrisons in Africa had to fend for themselves. Leaving a hundred Libyan hoplites to guard the town, a horrible low number, Varo had taken his seventy hastati to aid Kirtha...
They had marched fast at least, despite the blistering heat and their heavy equipment. The time spent out of the campaign hadn't ruined his men's fitness, they were grizzled veterans after all. But the march had been full of jokes and talk, far from the old discipline...Varo had realized he'd lost much of his authority during the time spent outside the regular military routine.
Still, when ordered they obeyed, and that was enough.
"So...general...think you still know how to use that gladius of yours?" Frowning Varo glanced over to the man with a sardonic grin on his face. Luca was wiry and dark from his civilian work as a fisherman, his white smile shinning through the dirt their march had kicked up. He was tossing his pilum from hand to hand, not the least bothered by the offences he was raking up.
"I don't know, maybe you should ask Culio?" Varo replied, referring to the massive optio who had maintained his strength by working as a woodcutter. Which was good since that kept him and his short temper away from most people. "I'm sure he has an opinion on the matter."
"Erm..." Luca begun to skirt back to his place with a worried look on his face, then flinched. "Sir! I see the garrison!"
Following the pointing finger Varo saw the troops appearing from behind a cluster of boulders resting atop a gentle hill to the right. Squinting against the harsh sunlight Varo counted them. A hundred Libyan hoplites and...maybe fifty Gaulish swordsmen?
He grimaced, the Libyan hoplites had good armour for a fight, but they weren't close to as disciplined as the Carthaginian hoplites they'd met on the field. And those damn Gauls...Varo still didn't understand why Vibius had even hired them during the campaign....javelin-fodder perhaps?
Pushing aside such worrying thoughts Varo raised a hand in greeting, eliciting a ragged cheer from the garrisoned troops approaching their right. Then he formed the hand into a fist and called out: "Centuria halt!" The troops slammed their heels into the ground as they came to a stop. "Left-turn!" A slide and another pair of heels knocking into dirt and the troops made a stop at the top of the hill.
Ahead he saw the Numidians appear in the distance, a forest of moving spears as the large mass of soldiers approaching.
"I don't like the odds of this..."
"Silence Luca!" Culio barked out, Varo couldn't care less. The garrisoned troops would meet him and his men first, they would form up defensively atop the small hill...and wait for the avalanche of tribal warriors. Simple and easy to remember, not much else they could do with the numbers they had all things considered...
Varo bit his parched lip and reached down, gently tugging at the gladius to make sure it was easy to pull free. His thoughts weren't too focused on the battle though, far more on his wife and children, stuck in a town full of angry townspeople...townspeople who hated the Romans and all who socialised with them. And he wasn't there to protect them anymore... "Gods...let her be okay."
Epilogue
The relief action of Kirtha failed, though thanks to the sacrifice of the veteran centuria of hastati the garrison managed to save itself and return to the town.
Losses on the Numidians were so severe that they broke the siege.
A year later two Roman armies made landing on the African coast, one lead by the legendary Vibius the Butcher himself. The Numidian campaign became far more difficult then expected however, and only the Numidian mercenaries hired during the campaign prevented it from turning into a disaster.
Final victory took a full ten years and thousands of men's lives, even Vibius himself died in the desert, age finally claiming the old wardog.
Varo's hastati were all cut down where they fought, their bodies left to the carrions.