Note from Kanuro5: This is the moment that we have been waiting for, the battle chapter! This is my first battle chapter and I am so excited writing this! Due to the length of this battle; I have broken it up into three parts. And all of them will be long. Just wanted to get that out there. I hope you all enjoy this ancient rendition of bloodshed and butchery!
XIII
The Battle of Praxus Hill Pt. 1
Day 26 of the Campaign
The cadence of horns blasted throughout the Roman camp at the late hour of sunrise as the edge of the sun peered behind the Roman camp. Proculus and Vitus bolted up from their bunks in unison, stared at each other, and proceeded to quickly allow themselves to be bathed and tended to by their slaves before they were dressed in their armor. Once the brothers were dressed from head to toe in their armor, they both left the confines of the tent and walked into their bustling camp. Half of the legionaries were sitting down in circles, eating their breakfast of hare and rat stew, while the other half were practicing sparing with each other so that they may be prepared from whatever happens to them on this day.
There Lucius sat on the outside of the oracle's tent, oblivious to the rest of the world. His eyes were focused on the ground as if he was waiting for a tree to sprout from the earth. The brothers have never seen their father in this manner, so distracted from the rest of the world around himself; the brothers actually realized how much importance an oracle holds before the eve of battle.
"Father…are you well?" Proculus asked Lucius.
Lucius raised his head and witnessed his boys gazing at him, "I am fine, I just…have many thoughts that race in my head, such a thing happens all the time before I venture into battle; it is nothing to be concerned with."
The oracle walked out of the tent covered in the blood of a bull and bowed towards Lucius. Lucius quickly rose to his feet and asked the oracle, "Tell me, what does Mars say within the bull's liver."
"Dear Heir of the Julii, we have cut open the bull and examined its organs so that we may understand the will of the Gods! But take heart and patience, for we have discovered some rather…mixed readings from the bull's liver."
"'Mixed readings?' Explain yourself!"
"It is not us that needs to be explained, dear Heir of the Julii, but it is the Gods that explain everything to us. From the liver, derived the message of the Gods: it foretold of a great victory may fall in your grasps today, but only if you act within reason. To take heart in your soldiers and believe in them and they will soar throughout the battle. But…although victory may be yours today; there exist a man that will witness the battle but he does not belong to either nation of both armies. The Gods have foretold, that if this man is not slain in battle, then this man will lead to the destruction of your army, Heir of the Julii."
"Who is this man?! What have the Gods said about his identity?!" Lucius shouted.
"They have not specified of what or who he is, but that he does exist on this field of battle and he will bear witness to the battle."
"How would I find him, how will I know?"
"You will not, that is all the Gods have told us. I am sorry for the distraught that the news has given you, Heir of the Julii, but take heart that if you trust your men and lead with reason and intelligence, you will be victorious this day. The Gods have allowed it."
The high priest went back inside his tent and left the patrician family to pondered the message that was given to them.
"Proculus, what do you believe that the priest meant?" Vitus asked.
"I do not know, brother. 'A man where he does not belong to either nation of both armies'…so a man that is neither Roman nor Germanian is with the enemy…but who and what could their purpose be watching us…Father, what do you make of this?"
"Boys…come with me," Lucius told them without batting an eye.
The sons followed Lucius back into his personal tent and upon entry, Lucius shooed out all his slaves leaving the father and sons alone. Lucius brought his boys before a shrine that stood four feet high and was covered in a dozen candles and several small wooden totems that were carved into the body of a person.
"Proculus, did you bring your totem before you ventured out of Alesia?" Lucius asked.
"Yes Father, I did." Proculus pulled out a small velvet bag and removed a small totem whose face resembled Proculus.
"Father, what is all this? What are these totems you speak about?" Vitus asked.
"Apologies, Vitus. I wanted to explain this to you when you had donned the toga virilis and finally became a man, but such…events that surrounded your birthday after I returned drew my mind away. Here, Vitus this is your totem."
Lucius pulled out a totem and gave it to Vitus. Vitus' totem was shorter than Proculus' but it was for a reason, he examined it closer and discovered that the totem bore the resemblance of his face and his wavy hair and build of his body. This small totem was Vitus in wooden form.
"This…is fascinating Father," Vitus said as his eyes were glued to his totem, "But what purpose do these totems serve?"
"In pleasing the Gods," Proculus answered.
Lucius placed his totem in the middle of the shrine, "That is correct, Proculus. Vitus…what I am about to tell you, is only meant for Julii ears to hear. As Proculus has said, these totems serve the purpose of appeasing the Gods. This Julii tradition was started 200 years ago by the great patriarch, Flavius Julius the Builder. A totem is given to every male of the Julii family for when they donned the toga virilis at the age of 16 which was hand carved by the father and given to the sons. Each totem is unique as it bears the face of the holder and is to be kept with the man for the rest of his life.
"Patriarch Flavius would use these totems to pray to the Gods before he went to battle for guidance, protection, and strength; and he was always victorious. Unfortunately, half of our clan do not use the totems and their successes have been few. But when my father, Manius, told me about these totems…I knew…I knew, that if I was to reach my destiny; to be in the shadow or even eclipse Patriarch Flavius the Builder, I needed to pay my respects to the Gods. We will pray to the seven Gods of War so that they may bring us victory."
"But Mars is the only God of War," Vitus spoke up.
"He is the God of War, but six others are instrumental in warfare for absolute victory in total war. And they are: Vulcan the God of the Forge, who favors the durable; Mercury the God of Travelers, who favors the swiftest, Minerva the Goddess of Wisdom, who favors the wisest; Mars the God of War, who favors the strongest; Neptune the God of the Sea, who favors the adaptable; Jupiter the God among Gods, who favors the greatest, and Fortuna the Goddess of Fortune, who favors the bold. Now let us pray."
The sons placed their totems beside their father's and lit candles behind their totems before they lifted up their voices in prayer. They prayed the traditional Roman prayers of fortune for five minutes; then Lucius stopped them and revealed to his sons, the prayer for the Julii. Lucius told his sons to draw their daggers and make a small cut on their palms, small enough where only drops of blood would pour out, and to pour the drops upon the heads of their own individual totems. Lucius taught them the prayers in how to worship the Seven Gods of Total War and for them all to watch over them. And they ended the prayer with the Julii response, "Long live the glorious Republic of Rome and long live the Julii that grants Rome her strength."
The sound of Roman horns sound the approach of the Twenty-Eighth legion into battle. The entire legion left the camp and moved out in two lines, as was Lucius' instructions the previous night. The men in the center of the front line were the 6th Century, 10th Cohort; the most inexperienced unit in the legion; being led by the most junior centurion, Silvanus Cervinus. With each approaching step to the crest of the hill, Cervinus' heart began to race faster than a chariot. On the outside, his face was hardened and he seemed cool and collected, but truth be told his palms were sweating, his throat was dry and he had a hard time breathing because of this undaunted task that was passed to him; to hold the part of the line where they can expect the heaviest of the fighting.
As soon as the legion made its way to the crest of the hill, the horns signified for the front line to stop near the upper part of the slope where the crest formed into the slope. What the men of the first line saw as they looked down the plain shook them to their core. Cervinus could not believe what he witnessed. Proculus and Vitus were equally as speechless. For down in the plain, stood an army of over 12,000 Germanic warriors who wore burgundy plaid tunics and baggy pants stood together in massive droves—hardly a foot of grass showed between them.
Many Germanians were shirtless, believing that their bravery alone would shield them from Rome's cold steel. They painted burgundy and black dye over their bodies and chewed on special berries that increased the heart rates of their warriors in an attempt to nullify any pain that they would feel in battle. Most men in the army carried axes, hatchets, and shields, while some of the stronger warriors carried the double-bladed axes while those with longer arms were armed with swords and spears. These Germanians were not wanting a battle, they were wanting a slaughter; and when their eyes fell on upon the approaching legion; they unearthed a guttural war cry that resembled the roar of lions.
"By the Gods! Look at them all!" a legionary in the 6th Century, 10th Cohort whispered to his comrades beside him.
"This is what 12,000 men look like?"
"Jupiter's cock, how in Dis are we going to fight them off with our line so thin?!"
Cervinus heard the frightened gossip amidst his men, but did not say anything, for he himself was afraid as well. He knew he must say something to reestablish their morale; but noting could come to his mind in what to say to resolve this.
"What are you doing, Centurion?" Primus Pilus Cossutius, the most senior centurion of the legion, asked the dismayed Cervinus.
"Primus!" Cervinus said, surprised by his sudden appearance, "I was…uh I-I-I…"
"Do you not hear your men? Their resolve is in question, and you stand here and do nothing? You are a centurion and you allow this incompetence of morale to exist?!" Cossutius told him, low enough where only they can hear each other.
"Apologies Primus! I do not know what came ov—"
"Do not fucking speak. Only see what is done to bolster the nerves of your men."
Cervinus instantly spun around and shouted, "Soldiers of the 6th Century! Why do you allow fear to swell within your breast?! You are of the Twenty-Eighth! The greatest legion in the Republic! Yes they have numerous warriors, but we are the better warriors and we will prevail!"
The fear in the faces of his men disappeared—they realized that their centurion was right; they were among the most elite legionaries in the Republic; what did they have to fear from untrained savages? They were doing what they were trained to do, slay the enemies of Rome; why should they be afraid of their profession? Satisfied by their newfound conviction, Cervinus turned to face Cossutius whose old grizzled face betrayed no emotion, but Cervinus could feel that Cossutius approved of what he said.
The order came for the legion to thin out so that the extreme flanks could reach the end of the forest on both sides. This was the moment of truth, this was to see if they would overextend their ranks, thus making a penetration easier. And as they spread out, to their horror, they found out that because of this new formation, there were only three ranks of men in the line instead of seven or eight ranks. The situation went from troublesome to bad.
Behind the lines of legionaries in the relative rear was the General of the Twenty-Eighth; Lucius Julius, studying the outline of the Germanic army—as he was surrounded by his Tribune, his sons and the bodyguard Cassius, and his standard bearer who were all focused on the Germanic army below them.
"That…that is a lot of Germanians." Cassius remarked.
"So that is what an army of barbarians look like," Vitus said to himself.
"So what is to be done?" Proculus asked.
"'What is to be done' is your father's strategy," Antonius answered.
His strategy? Lucius chuckled at the concept of his strategy; it was all about property. That was what everything in life was about, property. He wondered why his second-in-command did not realize that, nor his sons, the problems of this world can be solved with the acquisition of property of estate. Trying to win a battle when you are outnumbered? Do everything you can to buy property that offers high ground or funnels the enemy to deduct his numbers. Trying to keep a vassal nation happy? Take land from a second vassal and give it to the first; if the second vassal complains, threaten reform in which will destroy his lands. Your women annoys you for a "change of pace"? Take her to a lovely vacation on the isle of Sardinia. Property. Property. Property. Everything is about property
"Property," Lucius whispered to himself, a self-satisfied grin grew on his face.
"Commander!" Oroles came galloping towards Vitus on his horse and promptly saluted him first before "saluting" the General. "Commander, my men are already stationed on the road and we are awaiting you."
"Gratitude, Oroles. I will be with you shortly."
"Hold a moment," Lucius commanded his youngest son, "I would have you linger a little longer, I must show you something of importance."
Out of the forest held by the Germanians emerged their king, Cunovindus the Butcher, who rode out on a magnificent grey steed as he himself was dressed in magnificent garments. His armor was coated in grey steel that reflected off the sun, as a long burgundy cape flowed majestically down his back. His dress ensemble was completed with a long, shiny helmet with a burgundy plume placed on top of his head radiating grandeur and wealth of the Germanic king.
Cunovindus looked upon the puny Romans on the hill voraciously and ordered his horn players to sound their horns. Once the booming sound of the ram's horn crescendo all around the barbarian army, each Germanic warrior fell deathly silent.
Cunovindus made his way to the front of his army, cleared his throat, unleashed a dark smile and bellowed, "Do you smell that?! That is the smell of fear! The Romans fear us, for they hide like startled boars on the high ground! They are afraid of our numbers as they should be! For over there, stands the legion of Lucius Julius the Mighty; the Roman cunt who destroyed the Gallic tribes and now looks forward to destroying our tribes! If we do not stop this Roman here, than the entirety of Rome will bring all of our tribes to ruin! Our wives will be raped and filled with the Roman seed, and are sons will be hostages to the Romans and turned against us! So we must fight! We fight to keep what is ours, what must stay ours! Fight like how our people expect, fight like the Gods! Warriors, take up the sword and the axe, the bow and the knife, for we come for glory and bloodshed! Wōden be with us!"
A thunderous din of patriotic, guttural cheers arose from the Germanians. They shouted their war cries and stomped their feet and banged their shields with their swords. They were impetuous. They wanted Roman blood, but Cunovindus' speech had spurred them to their limit! They wanted the battle to start now, or they would charge the Romans themselves.
Out of the edge of the forest, Lugotorix emerged on horseback wearing his full battle armor. He stayed back and eyed the cheering Germanic army that cried for destruction of Rome. Lugotorix grinned to himself, That fool Cunovindus may not excel in strategy; but he is blessed by the Gods in rallying his army.
Lucius could hear the high vibrato of this Germanic new chorus—and he snickered at it. He turn to his youngest son, who just stopped moments ago and told him, "Vitus, I want you and Proculus to bear witness to what I am going to do."
Lucius kicked his horse and trotted ahead of his sons. "What are we to witness?" Vitus asked Antonius.
Antonius smirked, "Your father will rally the men, so that we may win."
As Lucius trotted passed his men, almost every legionary whispered, "General," out of respect for their legendary leader. Lucius made eye contact with his men and looked upon the Mighty Three, who were in the center of the second line, with approval; the Three nodded and saluted their General with proud smiles. Lucius made his way to the front of his army and spotted Cossutius and Cervinus together and nodded at them; and they too nodded back and saluted him with pride.
The Julii Heir gazed over at the barbarous army that was gathered down the plain and simply took note of their size and ferocity. The words from the priest suddenly flooded into his head, "If a unique man is not slain in battle, then this man will lead to the destruction of your army…Take heart in your soldiers and believe in them and they will soar throughout the battle." Lucius looked over at his cherished legion and with a stern face, spoke to them:
"Men of the Twenty-Eighth! What lies over in that field?! They are the proud Germanians who await us, led by the Germanic king, Cunovindus the Butcher, a man of little worth with the mind of a base animal! They think their numbers will ensure our defeat and they seem keen in throwing their lives away in an assault, but I think that we will stain the field red with their blood. As you look out at them, I only ask for you to not fear these Germanians, they die just like any other man! For you all must recall in what legion you hail. This is not my legion, this is not the Republic's legion, this, is, your legion! You are all the Twenty-Eighth! The greatest legion in the history of the Republic! And you will do what you do best, slay barbarians by the hundreds. I want no prisoners. I want no mercy. Just slay every barbarian you come across, not one should live! And at the end of the day, YOUR SWORD ARMS WILL ACHE FROM OVERUSE!"
The men of the legions cheered in a giant uproar in admiration of what their General said. They stamped their feet and banged on their shields with their swords and let their voices be heard. Seeing his men cheer at his words time and again never grew old for Lucius, but this time for some reason, it was something special. Maybe it was because his own flesh and blood were watching as well? Whatever it was touched the heart of Lucius, he knew he had to finish his speech strong.
"I am proud of you all! You have constantly overly achieved in what I have asked of you; all in the name of your brothers! And you all…are like my sons, no—you are my sons! And we have proven our familial bond time and again! Do you not recall your victories at Osca, Corduba, the River Lerein, Lucretian Bridge, and Alesia?! Many a man told us that our victories would be impossible; but look at what we accomplished! There will come the time, when we grow old and the memories will stale, yet it will always be remembered; that against the odds, the Twenty-Eighth Legion destroyed the Germanic horde on top of Praxus Hill! So come my sons, and let us show these lowly Germanians true Roman courage! And remember this above all, our Roman Gods are watching, MAKE SURE THEY ARE NOT ASHAMED!"
On top of that hill emerged a roar that shook the entire area. Every Roman on that hill screamed and cheered until their lungs and throats began to ache. They raised their swords and banged even harder on their shields with their swords—nearly to the point of breaking their swords, but they did not care. They were all truly enraptured in their General's encouragement! They looked to the heavens and cried out so that even the gods could listen.
Vitus and Proculus stood on top of their stallions in awe. Without either of them realizing, they were smiling with pride at their father's words. The speech stirred their hearts and their passion for battle reached their peaks within their chest, for that brief moment, they felt truly invincible; that no weapon made from earth or heavens could harm them. They knew that they would survive, that they would win.
Lugotorix approached the impetuous Germanic king from the forest, "That speech was truly enthralling, Cunovindus. But it seems that from the cheers and shouts of the Romans on the hill, that Julius the Mighty delivered a speech of the same standing."
"It matters not. For they can be rallied again and again, and yet the outcome would prove the same, my victory over them. Now Lugotorix, I need your cavalry to stay hidden in the forest to keep it a surprise from the Romans. I would want you personally to stay hidden in the forest as well and watch our victory. Upon hearing my horn that will blow thrice and the waving of the banner towards your part of the forest, that will be the signal for you to attack. Remember that."
"I will. I will stay hidden until the most opportune time. Cunovindus…may Wōden and Donar guide your army to victory."
"Gratitude. Let us see this battle begin."
"General, that was the most spectacular sight that I have ever seen," Cassius said to Lucius in awe, as Lucius made his way to the back of the legion.
"Gratitude, Cassius. Now our men will see victory ours and lowly Germanians brought deserved end."
"Commander, it is time we hurry to the rear to protect the road," Oroles spoke up to Vitus.
"Right…Father, brother, I am off to—"
"Vitus, stay safe and remember your training, and do not forget to send a messenger if you spot the Germanians," Lucius told his son with concerned eyes.
"I will, Father."
"Vitus..." Proculus spoke up with a lighthearted smirk, "I…I want you to stay safe in your little adventure in being a hero. You always must show me up, even in our first battle."
"Of course, you might have gotten something wrong," Vitus smirked back.
Proculus chuckled lightly, and then his smirk evaporated and was replaced with troubled eyes and a mild worried expression.
"Brother…look after yourself," Proculus genuinely told his younger brother.
"Of course, brother. You be careful as well." Both brothers shook hands.
Before Oroles and Vitus left the hill with half of Totates' cavalry for protection, Lucius rode up to Oroles and got in his face. The two men stared off into each other's eyes, reliving their troubled history through their optic gaze.
"Oroles…" Lucius said, "You are not to allow a single Germanian pass you, or this legion will face unneeded trouble."
"I am well aware," Oroles stated without batting an eye.
"Yet your largest concern lies in the protection of Vitus. We have never seen eye-to-eye and what you had done to me is unforgivable and what I have done to you as well. But this, I beg you, do not allow harm to befall my son."
Oroles firmly stared into Lucius' eyes and expressed genuine promised in what he said to the General, "…You have my word that this will not transpire." Oroles turned around and led Vitus and the rest of the cavalry down the back of the hill.
Lucius returned to his position behind the legion and Antonius, Proculus, and Cassius lined up beside him. Lucius gazed up at the heavens and remembered the prayer that he made to the Gods, he closed his eyes and prayed once more, Jupiter…do not fuck me.
On Praxus Hill, the 6,000 Romans would defend their position against 12,500 Germanic warriors on this bright, and sunny day. With forest serving as natural flanks on the hill's left and right side, the Germanians would have to attack by frontal assault. The armies of Lucius Julius the Mighty, the Heir of the Julii; met Cunovindus the Butcher, the King of the Germanians. The Battle of Praxus Hill began.
"Archers! Advance!" Cunovindus bellowed, making the first move of the battle. The horns blew, summoning 750 Germanic archers from the army and marched forward in a line. The Germanic archer captain ordered his men to go forward until they were within 185 yards.
Lucius seeing the archers moving forth, he calmly called out to Cadmus, the captain of the Archer Auxilia to come forth by his side. "Cadmus, they summoned archers to disorganize us, what is their range of their weapons?"
"General, from where they are, they can only reach the front line, you are safe from fire," Cadmus reassured him.
"Such fortunate news." Lucius turned to his son Proculus and tested his knowledge on Roman warfare, "Proculus, if I may ask? The enemy are sending in missile troops to disrupt our line, what is to be done?"
"Uh…we order testudo so that the men would be shielded," Proculus answered.
"That is correct, now, order the front line only to form testudo."
"Father, do you mean what you say?" Proculus asked, his eyes glowing as if he had seen a god.
"I do, my son. Now hurry and order the formation."
"Yes Father…Front line! Form Testudo!" Proculus shouted.
The trumpeters beside the general blew the horns twice in a rhythmic staccato. Cossutius recognized the patterned horn and echoed across the line, "Form Testudo," and blew his whistle to signify the formation. The Romans in the front rank stood shoulder-to-shoulder and locked their shields with one another. The second rank raised their shields overhead and placed it on top of the front rank's shield, and the third rank raised their shields as well, overlapping the second rank's shield. The forming of testudo was so fluid, that it reminded Proculus of a crashing wave; with one side already forming to crash against the rocks while the opposite side was still being formed.
The Germanic archers finally stopped marching in front of the army once they were in perfect striking range. "Take out your arrows!" the Germanic captain bellowed. The Germanians grabbed their arrows and placed it on their bows. The archers took aim and over 700 Germanians raised their bows to the sky and released.
As the arrows flew within the air, the legionaries in the front line stood patiently in testudo awaiting from the hail of arrows to descend upon them. Cervinus held up his shield high and looked at the faces of his men to see if any of them showed the sign of cowardice. Staying in one place under fire can shatter the nerves of many brave men, yet the testudo was the legion's ultimate defense and they had little to fear.
A large thud smacked across Cervinus' shield, startling the young centurion and his men. The one large thud was followed by numerous other thuds on top of the men's shields. It was coming down so heavy a few legionaries believed it was raining at first.
"By the Gods, what is that? What falls on our shields?!" one legionary asked.
"Steel your nerves! They are only arrows, they are just bouncing off our shields!" Cossutius explained.
"Be calm! For it will pass!" Cervinus shouted.
The Germanic archers unleashed a second volley against the first line, and their arrows soared through the sky until it reached its complete arch, then came crashing down on the Romans' shields like an eagle diving for a fish in the river. But the legionaries held their testudo and endured the smacking of the iron Germanic arrows against their steel shields. Inside their formations, the only thing that the Romans could see was the back of their shields and the dark shade inside their formation. They just had to wade out the arrows until their general told them to.
Lucius meagerly watched as the hundreds of arrows hurtled against the Roman shields and was pleased that no arrows were penetrating the testudo formation. He turned to Cadmus and asked him, "Dear Cadmus, are our archers in range with them?"
"Yes General. And since we are on this elevated hill, we should hold even more range than normal."
"Excellent, tell your archers to advance and fire when ready."
Cadmus returned to his archers and told them to advance. The 250 archers of the Auxilia moved behind the second line and gauged their range. "Elevate to 55 degrees!" Cadmus shouted. The Roman archers placed the arrows on their bows and pulled back on the arrow with three fingers and raised their bows 55 degrees. Cadmus had his arm extended high preparing to give the signal, he turned back to look at Lucius who just gave him a simple nod.
"Archer Auxilia! Loose!"
The Roman archers fired their arrows high in the air and instinctively reloaded for a second volley as they watched the first volley descend upon the Germanians. Whilst the Germanian archers were reloading, the captain of the archers looked up in the sky and noticed that over a hundred black tiny dots were soaring through the air and angling down at his men. The next thing that the captain realized was that his right eye suddenly grew dark and a dark shade enveloped the rest of his thought. His brain was not fast enough to register what had happened, but to his men watching, he was hit by a Roman arrow in his right eye and died before he hit the grass.
The men screamed in agony as the Roman arrows found their marks. Throats were torn as arrows ripped through them like a finger puncturing a small leaf; and began choking on their own blood. Feet were being pinned to the ground. For one unfortunate barbarian, three different arrows punctured his stomach and a fourth arrow tore through his groin. Under the rain of Roman arrows, the Germanian archers were dropping rapidly.
"Second volley! Loose!" Cadmus ordered. The second volley of arrows surged through the chill air and crashed against Germanic flesh and bones. Too many Germanic archers were being killed for them to possibly fire at the first line, which Lucius had planned on. The Germanic archers were in disarray, too many of their men were being killed between each volley and since the Roman archers were hiding behind the second line of legionaries, the Germanians could not even see where the arrows were coming from.
After two more volleys of Roman arrows decimating the Germanic archers, a confused and irritated Cunovindus called for the withdraw to spare his archers. The barbarian archers ran back to their lines suffering about 231 dead and 174 wounded. Lucius triumphantly smirked at the withdraw and ordered the first line to break the testudo formation. There were no Roman casualties.
Back in the plains, Cunovindus turned to his cavalry captain and told him, "Our arrows have done nothing except sour the mood of our men! Take about 300 horsemen, and drive through their line at the center! Once we have seen that you have broken through I will send my first wave of infantry to attack the Romans."
"Yes my King!" The Germanic captain traveled throughout the Germanic ranks and rallied over 300 horseman, all of them light cavalry, and set them in formation. From on top of the hill, Lucius of course saw it all.
"They are spurring their horses, it will be a cavalry attack," Lucius decided.
"And they all consist of light cavalry as well," Antonius added on.
"What fool would send out light cavalry to break through a line of infantry?" Cassius snickered.
"When our lines are spread as thin as thread, then this may be a sound tactic," Antonius answered him back.
"Mercenary spearmen! Behind the first line!" the General ordered.
These Gallic mercenaries with eight foot spears made their way behind the first line and stood at attention behind the 6th Century, 10th Cohort. If the cavalry did break through, then Lucius would have them meet a wall of spears before the cavalry got far. Lucius told Cadmus to prepare his archers for a cavalry charge and reminded him to constantly adjust his aim between each volley. For Lucius' plan to work, he had to put faith in his senior centurion, Cossutius, for only he knew what to do when stationed in the first line against a cavalry attack.
The Germanic captain rallied his light cavalry, raising their boisterous spirits, telling that they would succeeded in where their archers had failed. He told them their Gods were watching and glory would be theirs, in that divine-filled providence, the Germanic light cavalry charged.
When they were in range, Cadmus unleashed a volley of arrows unto the charging cavalry and with the same result as before, did heavy damage amongst the light cavalry. As the arrows raced through the air, the riders were not the only ones to be struck, but the horses as well. One arrow penetrated a horse's pupil and came out the back of its neck, causing the horse to tumble and the rider to crash violently against the ground. Another arrow caught a rider square in his chest, pitching the rider off his horse as the horse continued to race forward. The hail of arrows sent many riders and their horses to the afterlife. But the charge was still coming and only about 65 riders were disabled.
By the time the second volley was fired, the barbarian cavalry was only 100 yards away from the Roman line. "Wedge formation! Concentrate on the center!" the barbarian captain shouted. The dispersed line of cavalry quickly came together and formed a triangular wedge with the captain at the very peak of the wedge. They adjust quickly and were on line towards the very center of the Roman line. But once they reached 50 yards, they cavalry began galloping on the slope and charged uphill, however it slowed their speed drastically.
As the light cavalry struggled to gallop at full speed up the hill, Cossutius took his whistle and blew it once, signifying the entire line to lock their shields.
"Pilum, at the ready!" Cossutius shouted.
Every Roman on the line raised their pila over their heads and took careful aim at the approaching cavalry. Cossutius stepped out of formation and walked five paces forward where all the legionaries could witness him. Because of his rank as Primus Pilus, he was to be the first Roman to throw his pilum and then the rest of the line would follow suit.
Cossutius blew on his whistle and hurled his steel tip spear at the Germanic Cavalry Captain. The steel tip crashed against the bridge of the Cavalry Captain's nose and the entire shaft of the pilum came out the back of the man's skull. The sudden impact of the pilum caused the captain to fall back off his horse, his body tumbled downhill and tripped up ten horses which in turn caused a snowball effect as more horses were being tripped and riders being thrown because they were in the tight wedge formation. But after Cossutius threw his spear, the entire first line of legionaries cast their pila down on the charging cavalry. The rain of arrows and pila proved too much for the cavalry and with their leader dead and with the horses in disarray because they repeatedly trip over one another, the cavalry turned around and retreated back down the hill and ran into the forest with their spirits shattered. The cavalry had suffered 193 casualties while the Romans had not suffered any.
The Roman legionaries cheered and banged on their shields at the routing cavalry. Lucius broke out a toothy grin; his plan of using the mercenary spearmen was not even needed, his legionaries and archers alone broke the morale of the barbarians. He had crushed Cunovindus' skirmishers and routed his cavalry without losing a single man. From his elevated position, Lucius looked out into the Germanic army and noticed that their barbaric cheering had ceased. At that moment, Lucius would have paid all the gold in the world to see Cunovindus' face at the events that had just transpired.
Cunovindus who had watched his cavalry break completely and fled into the forest without killing a single Roman was enraged at the cowardice of his captain for permitting such an action; truly not knowing that his cavalry captain was killed in the charge. He could feel the confused and brooding eyes of his mighty warriors upon him, questioning his leadership in leading this attack. But Cunovindus paid no heed of it and shouted his next order, "First wave, attack!"
At their king's command, 2,500 Germanic swordsmen and axemen slowly advanced towards Praxus with the thoughts of Roman blood lingering in their minds. The entire legion witnessed this great mass of men moving at once to engage them, they stood upright and proud and watched them moved closer and for the men of the stretched front line, they realized that this was it.
Yet Lucius would not have his men face the first wave at full strength. He turned to Cadmus and ordered him to keep firing volleys of arrows at the Germanic wave until they were right on top of the Roman line. Cadmus obeyed, and like a machine the Archer Auxilia would repeatedly load their arrows into their bows, take aim and fire; unleashing a total of ten volleys. As the first volley of arrows ripped through the unarmored bodies of the barbarians and countless Germanians fell, the wave picked up its pace; those with shields raised them above their heads, while those absent shields forced their way under someone else's shield.
As the barbarians were closing in on the first line, Cossutius looked around at the men and could see the anxiety on their faces, the beads of sweat falling down their temples, and the chattering of prayers from some of the men. To stare down the face of 2,500 charging barbarians was no easy task, and he was proud that discipline was keeping them in line. But to ensure such discipline remained strong, Cossutius walked up and down the line reassuring his men.
"Be strong, men! We are the better warriors! Straighten the ranks! Look to your centurions! And mark all commands when they come! Keep your shields straight and in front of you and stab what is in front of your shield! Bend if you must, but never break! Remember your training and you will be invincible! And remember, we are the Twenty-Eighth!"
"Twenty-Eight! Twenty-Eight! Twenty-Eight!" the front line chanted in a chorus.
"Father, they are approaching! What command would you have me give?" Proculus asked his stoic father.
"None, for I have complete faith in Cossutius, he will know what to do."
The barbarian first wave finally reached the foot of the hill and began their scramble uphill, still screaming at the top of their lungs at the stagnant Roman line. Cossutius fell back into position besides Cervinus and the 10th Cohort and blew his whistle, the Romans locked their shields tightly and overlapped with one another like the scales of a fish. Cossutius blew his whistle once more and the Romans lifted up their last pilum and aimed it down at the encroaching Germanians. Cossutius took precious aim and counted in his head and then hurled his pila as he blew his whistle; the rest of the Romans in the front line followed suit.
Hundreds upon hundreds of pilas soared through the air into the Germanians, and hundreds upon hundreds of Germanians fell screaming. The pilas easy tore through the uncovered bodies of the Germanians puncturing vital organs and shattering bones. One pila even went through one barbarian and skewered another barbarian directly behind the first. Those that guarded themselves with their shields came to the startling realization that the pila stuck in their shield weighed it down significantly; so the barbarians with pilas stuck in their shields discarded the shield entirely and continued the charge.
Cossutius blew his whistle once more, ordering the legionaries to draw their swords. The Romans tightened their shield walls and strengthened their stance. The Germanians were right on top of the Roman line. "Brace!" Cossutius shouted. At the very last second, Lucius closed his eyes and prayed once more, "Jupiter, do not fuck me."
Hundreds of Germanians violently crashed into the Roman line of shields, screaming as they did so. The initial shock of the impact from the barbarian horde began to push the Roman line backwards, especially at the center of the line where the barbarians began to concentrate.
"Hold! Hold!" Cossutius shouted.
"Push them back! Do not give ground!" Cervinus encouraged his men.
With the first rank being pelted by Germanic steel, the second and third rank in the line took the initiative and pushed their shields against the backs of the rank in front of them, effectively stopping them from being pushed backed momentarily. The Germanians struck at the first rank with bitter ferocity wanting desperately to be the first warrior to draw first blood from the Romans, yet they were finding it increasingly difficult to find an opening in their rectangular shields.
Cervinus was fighting off one Germanian who was repeatedly swinging his axe down on Cervinus' shield. Every time the Germanian brought his arms up to drive the axe down, Cervinus would simply raise his shield up to block the blow. After six consecutive blocks, Cervinus moved in and bashed the Germanian back with his shield. The barbarian quickly regained his footing and took a pause, frustrated that his efforts were getting him nowhere. Cervinus slowly lowered his shield and stared into the Germanian's strained bewildered eyes. The junior centurion spotted the frustration and broke out a cocky smirk against the barbarian and tapped his shield with sword, begging for him to try his futile action again.
The Germanian, seething with primal anger, fell for the Roman's taunt and charged blindly at the jeering centurion. Cervinus fully extended his right arm and thrust his gladius through the roof of the charging Germanian's mouth and entered the man's brain, instantly killing him. Cervinus tried to pull his sword back, but the blade was stuck in the man's skull, so Cervinus used his shield and pushed the barbarian's dead body back as he withdrew his sword. But as soon as that barbarian fell, another one jumped in and attacked Cervinus.
Cervinus hid behind his shield and endured the brunt of the barbarian's wild attacks; but with his shield right in front of his face, his sight of the Germanian in front of him was drastically diminished. Cervinus took a chance and lunged his sword in front of him with his shield still obscuring his frontal vision. He felt a certain resistance as he lunged his sword as if his sword had hit something. He pulled his sword out and noticed that the steel blade was coated in crimson blood. He lowered his shield and saw that he had blindly stabbed the man in his stomach and that the man fell before his feet, crying in pain. This sort of "instinct" to kill an enemy blindly whilst hiding behind a shield was second nature to the Romans.
They were drilled and trained constantly to inflict fatal wounds to the torso of their enemies in any situation. Although their helmets obscured their peripheral vision and their massive rectangular shields covered some of their sight in front of them, the Roman legionaries would fall back on their training and know exactly where to stab to ensure a fatal wound and/or death. What Cervinus had just accomplished was proof of it. Another barbarian attacked Cervinus, but this time with the spear. As the iron tip made contact with Cervinus' shield, Cervinus hacked at the spear and destroyed the wooden shaft with little effort; Cervinus took a few steps out and plunged his sword into the Germanian's soft stomach and watched with pleasure as the barbarian fell. Cervinus thought he was untouchable, but once his eyes laid upon Cossutius who was beside him, Cervinus knew who the true warrior was.
Cossutius was a death machine. Every time a barbarian charged at him, the Primus Pilus would quickly raise his shield to block the strike and in that same motion, he would stabbed the Germanian in the torso, killing the mindless barbarian instantly. And once Cossutius had retracted his sword, he would immediately bring his shield back down to cover his body. The bodies of the Germanians he had killed had already began to pile up in front of him. The whole killing motion of Cossutius was so fast that it reminded Cervinus of a frog in how it would capture flies with its tongue in the blink of an eye. Cervinus knew that all Romans were trained like this, but he couldn't comprehend how Cossutius was this fast at it. But to Cossutius, the secret was that he figured out the barbaric pattern of attack long ago.
The Germanians and Gauls would run to the enemy to ram and lock shields together and proceed to hack their swords down on top of their enemies, while Roman training dictates that legionaries should lock shields with the enemy and stab them in the torso. And mostly all barbarians who carry shields use their left arm as a shield arm, the same as the Romans. When both shields clash, there is an area of flesh that is exposed on the left side of the barbarian, from his ribs that extends to his armpit. Cossutius would instinctively stab in this overlooked and exposed area with his long and strong arms and get his kill under the armpit—parallel to the nipple. Cossutius was so skilled at hitting this mark, he could subconsciously drive the blade between the ribcage and stab the heart, all without touching bone. The Romans were holding their ground, mostly due to the leadership and fighting strength of the centurions like these.
The Roman centurion was the leader and disciplinarian of his century, but he was also expected to be the best fighter out of all 80 legionaries; and this battle certainly proved it for the centurions in the front line. Over in the left flank of the line was Centurion Flavius Caelius of the 6th Century, 5th Cohort; who had already killed many barbarians. In the midst of his killing spree, a Germanic axe went flying through the air horizontally and struck Caelius' helmet. The axe caught itself under the crimson plumed crest on Caelius helmet and the helmet went flying off Caelius head as he fell to the ground. Caelius rose to his knees in a mighty daze from the surprise blow and could feel his blood run down the left side of his face from a nasty gash above his left eye. Although he was stunned from the blow, it did not hinder him; it actually enraged him.
A Germanian axeman tried to cleave the kneeling Caelius in two, bringing his dreadful double-sided axe down on Caelius head. However, Caelius saw the move coming and whilst on his knees, he raised his shield and blocked the axe; and in the same fluid motion, Caelius lunged his sword into the Germanian's chest. As the Germanian fell, the helmetless Caelius went on the warpath cutting down all the barbarians that charged at him. One savage tried to bring his sword down on top of Caelius, but Caelius blocked the attack with his shield and hacked off the sword arm at the elbow. The armless barbarian screamed in anguish, but his screams were cut short as Caelius swung his gladius at full strength and decapitated the barbarian; sending his head rolling downhill beneath the feet of the barbarous horde. Seeing how their centurion quickly rebounded, spurred the legionaries of the 5th Cohort to fight harder. But not all the centurions were as fortunate as Caelius.
On the right flank of the line, where the Germanians carried mostly spears and swords was Centurion Appius Minucius of the 3rd Century, 8th Cohort who was fatally wounded by a Germanian spearmen. As the fighting turned fierce, Minucius witnessed one of his legionaries fall dead due to a spearmen. Minucius broke formation and ventured out to avenge his comrade's death, but he did not get far as he was run through in the stomach by a barbarian spear that easily penetrated his armor and came out his back. Minucius quickly fell to his knees in shock with the spear still in his body, but only for the moment, as he quickly rose to his feet and targeted the barbarian without a weapon, judging that he was the man who had fatally skewered him. Minucius awkwardly walked up with the spear still in his body and stabbed his attacker in his throat. He knew he was going to die, but at least he earned the satisfaction of slaying his own killer. He then swayed backwards into the ranks of his men and collapsed in front of them and quickly died. His optio (second-in-command of a century), rushed from the back ranks and ordered the first ranks to advance ahead of so they can stay off the Germanians while the second ranks carried the body back safely. Roman casualties like this began to grow steadily after five minutes of battle and the ranks begin to thin with each passing minute. It was easy for one to be lost in witness to this bloodshed, and even though he was not active in this battle, Proculus was no exception.
Everything was happening at once in the mind of Proculus, this form of bloodshed was inconceivable to any thought of war that he had naively imagined in his brain. The clanging of barbarian wooden shields and steel swords against Roman steel shields reverberated across the hill like an echoing bolt of thunder during the tempest. Those who were wounded with dismembered limbs or broken bones screamed for their comrades to save them; and those who were dying from blood loss or disembowelment screamed to their gods, wondering why the gods had forsaken them. The smell of blood and bile lingered in the frosty air, mixing together something truly unfathomable for the human nose. Proculus fought to ignore the smell but it was inescapable just as the grisly cesspool of butchery and death was inescapable on that hill.
The legionaries however were too busy fighting hard to bother with the hellish conditions, but the Germanic barbarians were ruthlessly fighting back as well. Throughout the battle, the place where the fighting was the fiercest was at the center of the line where Cervinus and Cossutius were. The center of the Roman line was slowly being pushed back uphill, forming a bulge within the line. The legionaries were slaying barbarians by the number, but it was just too many for them. Cossutius witnessed the men in the first rank were tiring quickly and figured that the first ranks throughout the entire line were fatigued as well. He put his whistle in his mouth and blew the command.
The entire first line stopped and in one fascinating move, pushed their shields into the barbarians' faces and rammed them back into the horde. With all the blood, vomit, urine, and excrement of the fallen Germanians coating the slope, the Germanians were having trouble maintaining their footing on the uphill slope and with the sudden shock of being hit by a wall of shields, it had caused a 20 second lull in the battle as the Germanians tried to reorganize themselves. But those 20 seconds were precious for the Romans; Cossutius blew his whistle and shouted, "Rotate!" and the tired and exhausted first rank went to the back of the line and became the third rank to rest, as the third rank became the second and as the fresh second rank became the new first rank in the line. Once the fresh legionaries were now in the front, the Germanians charged once again uphill and the battle resumed.
Down in the forest across the plains stood the Brittonic king, Lugotorix, who was carefully watching the battle from the edge of the forest as he was instructed. A Brittonic rider galloped to his king and got off his horsed and bowed before him. This rider's name was Ermanar, and he was the Brittonic Captain of Lugotorix's army.
"My king, forgive any insolence that flows from my tongue; but the men are impetuous for battle," Ermanar told his king.
"Rise, brave Ermanar and take heart that we shall fight the Romans, but the battle shall not be in our favor."
"What? Please, explain words."
"Look upon the hill, my Captain. As thin as the Roman line is they are still fighting back with the ferocity of a cornered wolf; and Cunovindus is suffering for it. The back of the Romans will not break; so we must find some other way."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I want you and two riders to ride along the main road around the hill to see if we can flank the Romans; that may be our only chance for victory," Lugotorix commanded his loyal captain. Ermanar bowed to his sovereign and did as he was commanded.
Meanwhile back on Praxus, the men in the second line, the seasoned and veteran soldiers of the 1st to 4th Cohorts, watched with concerned patience as their brothers fought hard in front of them. The experienced legionaries stood tall and remained stagnant as were their orders and discreetly talked amongst themselves about the progress of the battle.
"Those new men from the 10th Cohort are fighting like lions," a legionary from the First Cohort remarked, impressed by the inexperienced soldiers' tenacity.
"They are, which is truly impressive for their first battle," another legionary spoke up.
"Everyone has to start somewhere," Arminius of the Mighty Three said.
"But why are we not allowed to use our pila against the Germanian cunts? Mars knows that our boys need help," Metellus asked his comrades.
"Because the General has commanded it," Aelianus answered, effectively silencing all doubts, "We are to save the pila until we are the first line, General Julius realizes this."
"I understand what you say," Metellus uttered to Aelianus, "By all I am saying is—"
"I know what you are saying. But just put faith in the General's decision and put faith in your fellow legionaries, Metellus. They will succeed, I know it."
The fighting continued. The Romans held their ground and despite rising causalities, continued to maintain their impenetrable defense. The Germanians in frustration repeatedly rushed the shield wall trying to find an exploitable opening in the line, but were struck down with brutality by the legionaries' gladii as they skewered and impaled their bodies. After ten more minutes of further bloodshed, Proculus noticed that the first wave of Germanians were dwindling down rapidly.
"Father, if I may permit? We are winning this battle, but this slow grinding and killing will go on and our soldiers will suffer more casualties. The Germanians have taken horrendous casualties and their morale is wavering, I believe if we use archers and hail arrows on top of their heads; they will break and rout," Proculus cunningly suggested.
Lucius gazed at his son with proud eyes of approval, for his eldest son has taken a rational initiative. "Such an astute observation is greatly received, but before issuing command, you must consult with yourself about the range of the arrows, or they may strike our own soldiers by mistake."
Proculus quickly ranged the barbarian numbers towards the distance of the front rank of the Roman line and came to the decision that the Roman arrows would not reach the Romans. So Proculus ordered Cadmus to fire his arrows at the back of the Germanian horde until the Germanians routed. A proud smile rose on Lucius' face.
Cadmus' archers raised their bows and elevated at an 85 degree angle and released their 250 arrow storm upon the occupied Germanians. The arrows land in the horde with deadly results. None of the Germanian infantry wore helmets or caps of any kind; so when the velocity of the steel-tipped arrows that angled downward landed on their unprotected heads, the Roman arrows easily penetrated through the Germanians' skulls; killing hundreds easily.
The situation was dire for the first wave of Germanians still fighting. They were being slaughtered by the impenetrable Romans in the front of them, and were being bombarded by arrows over top of them; and they were packed so tightly together with little to no spacing that they could not even raise their shields to protect themselves from arrow fire. It then came to some of the boisterous warriors in the back rank, they were going to die; they all were going to die if they kept fighting. So then it happened.
Three Germanian warriors who were fearful of their life in the back ranks of the first wave turned around and ran. One of their friends saw them run away and he followed to, screaming for them to wait up. Ten Germanians heard the screaming and decided to run to. Seeing the 14 warriors fleeing caused about 30 more barbarians to run as well. The next rank that saw them called them cowards and rallied the remaining barbarians to continue the fight. But after the next volley of arrows, they too turned and fled, not even bothering to look back. After that, the entire remaining wave routed completely and ran down Praxus Hill.
The Roman first line cheered and laughed at the fleeing barbarians and taunted them by clapping their swords with their shields. Cervinus, his face coated in Germanic blood and his arms growing heavy from continued usage of his sword and shield, erupted in triumphant laughter at the sight of the routing enemy. Proculus smiled big as he ordered the archers, "Hold your fire! We must conserve our arrows!"
"They rout! Should we not give chase?" Cassius asked.
"No, for Cunovindus still holds thousands more barbarians to throw at us," Antonius replied, "We must stay on this hill and let them come to us."
His men cheered and taunted loudly as General Lucius watched on with a controlled smile, trying hard not to show too much emotion; for the battle was not over yet. After the first wave retreated, a 15 minute lull occurred in the battle where both sides would reorganize their men and implement new strategies.
Lucius peered at the faces of the legionaries in the front line who were still cheering in this momentary victory. They were exhausted, wounded, and covered with blood—their own and of the enemy. Now was the time to switch them out so that they may rest.
"First Line! Withdraw to second formation! Second Line! Advance to the first! Mercenaries, tend to the wounded and bring them to the medicus and removed our honored dead from the field. And remember, we are taking no prisoners, finish off any barbarian that yet draws breath!" Lucius commanded his legion.
The exhausted first line of the Twenty-Eighth walked back towards the second line to rest as the experienced, veteran second line became the new front line. As the men of the 5th to the 10th Cohort passed by the men of the 1st to the 4th Cohort, they were being praised by these elite soldiers.
"You men did well."
"Mars and Bellona will drink well tonight."
"You have slain many a barbarian today."
"You have done well, but now step aside and witness true legionaries in action."
"That is right, we will double every kill you all have made!"
The mercenaries quickly went to work retrieving the wounded and hauled them back to camp to the medicus' tent with the help of others. As the wounded men walked by, the legionaries watching slowly clapped their swords against their shields in a slow-paced rhythm, a sign of respect for their comrades who had shed blood, life, and limb in battle. But Proculus could not understand what was to be respected. Sure they fought valiantly, but the wounds they carried as they limped back or were carried back were too gruesome for Proculus to bear.
Many of the wounded had nasty and flowing lacerations among their necks and faces which would likely end in disfigurement if the bleeding could be stopped. One legionary was hit in the face by a war hammer and the left side of his skull was broken with his skin sagging downward, his nose broken and bent, missing several teeth, and with his eyeball dangling out of his socket while still attached to its optic nerve. A Centurion walked by Proculus with both of his eyes bandaged together by bloody rags and was missing three fingers on his right hand.
Proculus stared at these poor disfigured souls and could not help but pity their sacrifice. He knew he had to respect their sacrifice, but was this the glory of battle that so many patricians had talked about? How the generals like his father and even Proculus himself would escape unscathed and win the laurels while the legionaries who butcher the enemies of Rome could leave a battle disfigured and become an outcast back in normal life while only receiving a measly decoration. This was not what he imagined about the common foot soldier, they fought and died and suffered the most risks, was this really fair? Proculus closed his eyes and looked away, ashamed of himself for being in a position where he had to watch good men become butchered, and knowing that he did not deserve to be in their company.
"Do not turn away…" Lucius told his son, with an expressionless yet somehow sullen stare. "This is the path we have chosen; this is the path you have chosen. Although it pains your heart to see a man suffering, it will pain their hearts more knowing that you could not watch their sacrifice. This is one of the most ungodly moments a general always must experience, reviewing the wounded and dead. Look at your men, look at what they sacrificed for their comrades, for Rome, for the Gods, and for you. These men here, they could not give a damn about the politics of the Republic; they could not give a damn about who we fight or why. Most of them have had a troubled and a disgraceful life, but here…they are among others who have shared their pain and tribulations and are now called brothers. I fought alongside them for so long that they will go to Elysium and back for me. Each man fights his own battle and chooses why he fights, many of them fight for me, so I have no right to look away from why they fight. It pains me to see them suffer, yet I use it as fuel so that I may strive to do better to avoid any further bloodshed of my men. Proculus…never look away from your men."
Proculus bit down on his lower lip, filled with anguish that he must look upon the pain of the soldiers and acknowledge it as fact; that he is and will be a general and must begin to accept the sacrifices so that more lives will be saved. Proculus opened his eyes and looked at the wounded and with heavy heart, nodded his head in approval of their sacrifice.
During the first wave attack; the Romans suffered around 402 casualties, whereas the Germanians suffered 2,075 casualties.
Down the hill and into the plain, an enraged Germanic king was bellowing at his captains for the failure of the first attack. Cunovindus could not understand it; he held the numerical advantage, and he focused on the center of the line, but he still did not understood why the Romans did not break. He had some of his warriors capture some of the retreating Germanic warriors from the hill and began to interrogate them.
"You craven fucking dog!" Cunovindus spat at the terrified and shaking warrior. "You retreated! Why?! No order was given for a retreat!"
"M-M-M-Most humblest a-a-a-apologies, my great king!" the frightened warrior whimpered, "But the Romans were to strong! They were grinding us in the grass and then the arrows came overhead…and we…and we…we—we had to run! I beg for forgiveness!"
"NO! None shall be had! Take this cowardly lamb and all those who ran out to the forest and execute them!" Cunovindus shrilled at the top of his lungs.
The frightened Germanian cried for his king to spare him, but The Butcher had no mercy to spare for cowards. As the remnant of the fleeing Germanians was taken to be decapitated, Lugotorix came galloping on his horse to speak to the livid Germanic king.
"Cunovindus, you must be calm," Lugotorix said calmly.
"No I shall not! That Roman still has the high ground! First my cavalry flees without even touching the Roman line, and now my own warriors! I will send an even larger number to overwhelm the Romans!
"Look at the bodies of your kinsmen that liter the hill and paint it red with blood! Do you believe with utter honesty that another direct attack will work?"
"Yes! What else is permitted for me to do?! They covered their flanks and I cannot flank the hill; I must attack!"
"The battle may still be won, if you are willing to listen."
"What can you say that can erase such abysmal battle from memory?" Cunovindus chuckled darkly.
"I bear news from my loyal Captain, Ermanar. He has scouted the main road and has confirmed my thoughts that if the main road is taken, it can permit any number of warriors to flank the hill, climb the hill, and then attack Julius from behind."
Cunovindus squinted his eyes in confusion at the plan, "Is that possible?"
"It can be, but that cunning Roman general has thought of it. He has placed a flanking-guard on the road to block any attempt of our plan. But Ermanar says that they number around 300 and wear the armor of the Auxiliary, not the Roman legionaries. If we can get a large number force to destroy the Auxiliary—"
"Then we can attack Julius on both sides," Cunovindus finished the sentence, smiling devilishly as the plan became clear. "Finally, a plan that you suggest that I actually enjoy. Do not worry, Briton. I will send 1,000 men to attack this Auxiliary and destroy them. And then, I will crush Lucius the Mighty!"
Whew! You would not believe it, but it was actually pretty exhausting writing this chapter; fun yet exhausting. I have had so many ideas of what to use, but if I incorporated it all, the battle would be ten chapters long, and I am not about that life.
For any of you with constructive criticism about how the battle was detailed, don't be afraid to message me. This is my first battle chapter and if some things are unclear please tell me so I may edit this chapter and write cleaner and more concise battles in the future.
I would dearly like to thank everyone who is continually reading this fic and leaving comments for me. I want you all to note that it is keeping me committed to the story. I have only gotten this far to the coveted battle scene because of your continued support. Truly, thank you!
-Kanuro5