Legionary (37 page)

‘We need to buy some time if we want to get our boys up this path,’ Zosimus barked, jabbing a finger towards the swell of the legion plugging the pass — tiny in comparison to the black and silver sea of Huns and I Dacia swarming at the mouth of the pass — and then up at the hilltop, where the fort wall and gate were now visible. Two figures were already almost at the hilltop, having been despatched by Gallus to do a swift reconnaissance on the fort. ‘So get yourself behind one of these bad boys,’ he grinned, sidling up to the rockfall; a number of jagged boulders, sized just larger than a man, sitting precariously on the lip of one of the near vertical sections of the pass. Down below, the right flank was now bent in almost past the safety of the cliffside protecting them. ‘Come on, no time to waste!’

Zosimus and the other three pressed their shoulders to the rocks with a chorus of grunting. Pavo flicked his eyebrows up, took a deep breath and hurled himself into the side of the smallest boulder. Its surface gouged at him and took the breath from his lungs as he pressed into it. The boulder didn’t even shake. ‘In the name of…how am I supposed to shift one of these?’

‘Put your back into it, lad!’ Zosimus scowled.

Pavo dug his spear into the dirt under the massive rock and threw all his weight on the shaft. ‘Come on!’ he snarled, sweat pouring into his eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, it rocked and then slid forward. He heaved at his boulder until, in tandem, his and Zosimus’ boulders crashed forward down the pass together with the three heaved by the other legionaries.

‘Have that!’ Zosimus screamed. And in unison, the five fell back, panting.

‘Hope that one fits you, Spurius!’ Pavo spat as his boulder thundered downhill.

Gallus, watching their progress, turned to yell across the lines; ‘Break!’ His voice echoed through the pass and over the iron clatter of battle and as one, the ranks of the Claudia broke apart at the centre, like floodgates. The Huns and the I Dacia poured into the gap, their momentum throwing their front ranks to their knees as those behind powered forward, lusting for blood. Then an almighty rumble stopped them dead in their tracks.

The five ragged stone juggernauts ripped right through the gap in the Roman line, crunching over the Hun and I Dacia swell like a herd of rhinos charging over ants. Bodies exploded under the masses, limbs were ripped off and blood jetted skywards. The ranks staggered in confusion as five broad crimson paths lay in their wake. The unstoppable tide that had threatened to drown the XI Claudia just moments before now drained away in panic. The sea of Huns swarmed backwards at last, and the I Dacia turned and fled in their wake. Right on cue, another three boulders careened down the mountainside, shattering the ranks that remained in the gap. A hoarse cheer erupted from the Roman lines. Then as soon as the boulders were through the breach in the Claudia, the two halves of the legion closed up, quickly hacking down the stragglers in their way, before Gallus cried out.

‘Quick retreat!’

Without hesitation, the legion beat a fast march up the rocky slope, covered by the remainder of the Cretan archer auxiliaries who lined the higher portions of the path.

Pavo watched as the legionaries streamed past him, unable to tear his eyes from the carnage. He felt only numb.

Sura bounded up to him, slapping him on the back. ‘Nice move with the boulders. I thought we were dead meat there! Now come on, they’re coming up after us!’

‘What’re you standing around for? The fort’s over the next ridge,’ Gallus barked on his way past.

Pavo looked up to see the two legionaries up top, waving the standard — the fort was safe. He set off at the tail of the retreating legion, his boots scraping and slipping in the ever steeper climb. A blood-spattered legionary beside him laughed deliriously, holding a hand out to help him. He took it and wrenched himself level with the man.

‘You saved our bacon there, lad. That’s an ale I owe you,’ he grinned and then set off uphill, but his boot slid.

‘Whoa!’ Pavo gasped, swinging out a hand to catch him.

‘Better make that two ales, eh?’ the legionary chirped.

Pavo smiled and made to reply, when two arrows thudded into the legionary’s chest. Blood sprayed Pavo’s face. Recoiling in horror, he shot a glance down to the regrouped Hun and I Dacia ranks, they were advancing again — and fast. As another wave of arrows leapt up into the air he dropped the still form of the legionary and turned to scuffle through the rubble, his legs felt like lead and the ground like ice as he struggled to make any headway.

Felix urged him on from above, reaching out to clasp his forearm and haul him up — just as a pack of arrows thudded into the spot he had been standing. ‘Come on, Pavo!’ They turned to hobble on, when Gallus skidded down the slope next to them.

‘Felix!’ He gasped, holding out a stuffed ration pack. ‘Take this. It should be enough to sustain three men for six days.’

‘Okay…’ Felix raised an eyebrow. Ducking as arrows thudded just behind him.

‘We have a chance to bed ourselves in this fort. But once we are in there, we are completely cut off from any route of escape. Take two men and get round the hill and down to the coast.’ He pointed to the snaking rubble tracks wrapping around the girth of the hill. ‘I don’t care how you do it, but get yourself seaborne and get back to Constantinople. Time is of the essence, Felix, before they encircle us.’ Arrows began to patter down only paces below them, and all three cast nervous glances at the rising tide of Huns. Pavo spotted the snarl of Festus at the front line of the accompanying I Dacia.

Felix stood a little straighter. ‘Allright, Pavo, you’re with me.’ The optio glanced around for another man, but Gallus cut him off.

‘No, he’s needed here.’

Felix hesitated, ‘Hold on — you’re from the capital, aren’t you?’

‘Constantinople? The place runs through my blood,’ Pavo panted. His mind coloured with memories of his time before slavery.

‘So you know the streets?’

‘A little too well,’ he panted, ‘kind of why I wound up in the legions!’

Gallus looked Pavo in the eye and then nodded. ‘You’re a good soldier, Pavo. Do us proud.’

Pavo felt his heart was close to bursting under his mail vest. Months of pain and dejection just for one line of praise. It felt like the sweetest honey. ‘Yes, sir!’

‘He’s yours,’ Gallus nodded to Felix. ‘But remember, you must enter Constantinople as a civilian — no armour or anything that would give you away as a legionary. Treat the place like the snakepit it is!’

‘Sir, what…’

‘Just listen, Felix. You must only speak to the emperor and nobody else. You must tell him of our situation and the treachery that has taken place. Don’t trust anyone else except the emperor in person. I’ve met him once, and if I’m any judge of character then I believe he has no part in this. He will see justice done for this treachery, I’m sure of it.’

‘Consider it done, sir. But even if I make it through to Valens, it’ll be days at least before I return.’

Another arrow zipped past them and the roar of the climbing enemy shook the ground the stood on. ‘Felix, this is our only hope, you must leave…now!’

Pavo could almost feel the desperation in the centurion’s voice.

‘As you command,’ Felix barked. ‘Sura! You’re coming with me, too.’

Sura, ten paces further uphill, spun round. ‘Eh?’

‘We’re going to Constantinople,’ Pavo yelled.

The legs of the Claudia were beyond leaden as they plodded in exhaustion up the ever steeper climb. Even the Hun pursuit had slowed and the arrow hail nipping at Roman heels had thinned as the afternoon sun set its rays on their backs. A red dust cloud hung over the mountainside marking the path of the climb — the coarse powder lining the throats of every legionary. Finally though, the ridge above them rolled level to reveal the small, sturdy stone fortress.

‘Sanctuary!’ Amalric cried.

The walls were the height of two men, crenellated and punctuated with squat but solid looking towers, one on each corner and one at the midpoint of each wall. The place looked like a reasonably sized auxiliary fort — it would be cramped, but they were in no position to quibble. Abandoned for years, nature had been hard at work reclaiming the stonework; tendrils of ivy laced the walls and thick grass sprouted from the mortar.

Gallus stumbled up onto the plateau where most of the legionaries had collapsed in exhaustion. ‘First cohort, line the lip of this plateau — no bugger gets up here without a sword in their face! Get the second and third cohorts inside the fort.’

The men stumbled to their feet, cajoled by their equally shattered centurions. Gallus pulled his helmet off, scraping his fingers through his matted charcoal crop of hair, and hobbled to the far edge of the plateau to take in their surroundings; the plateau encompassed an area of probably one to one and a half stadia, with the fort perched on the sea-facing edge, covering maybe a third of that area. Behind the fort was a sheer cliff drop of some five storeys, and below, the shingle of the coast met with the shimmering blue sea, filling the horizon to the south and east. To the west, Chersonesos presented itself. The city was a patchwork of red tiled roofs, marble and stone structures and an impressive fortified wall, stretching many times higher than a man, tantalisingly close. Then he rubbed his eyes; tiny shapes moved through the streets like ants — thousands of them. Huns. ‘They’re everywhere,’ he gasped, his throat rasping. He rested his hands on his burning knees and gulped hungrily at the thin hilltop air. Hobbling back to the other edge of the plateau, he helped a straggling legionary up to safety, then the breath stuck in his lungs as he took in the horde that swarmed below them. They covered almost the entire floor of the vast valley and the face of the hill. Near the right of their front lines, a relatively ordered silver square marched — the treacherous I Dacia. Then he noticed their movement, they were climbing back down the hill. ‘They’re pulling back!’ He cried.

Avitus sprinted over. ‘Starving us out, then? We’re royally screwed. I’d prefer a fight.’

‘It may not come to either, Avitus,’ Gallus chirped, pulling the legionary with him into a jog over to the southern edge of the plateau. He wrapped an arm around Avitus and pointed out over the deserted blue sea behind the fort. ‘Salvation lies that to the south.’ Then his eyes narrowed and he whispered; ‘May the gods be with you, Felix.’

‘Centurion,’ Amalric called from the northern edge. ‘This fort is well built. But we cannot hope to hold out here for long.’

Gallus nodded. He kept a sincere expression, but his mind jabbered with a thousand voices. The loudest being Nerva’s last words — berating Gallus’ decision to overrule an order — was it the right thing to do? Would the tribunus be standing next to him now if they had moved forward through the valley as one unit? He cursed to himself and shook his head. Nerva was gone and he had to lead these men through this. Primarily, food supply was a concern — having lost the pack mule train meant they had soldier ration packs alone for sustenance. ‘Can we forage for anything up here?’

‘Nothing substantial, berries and a few roots and pulses,’ Amalric replied, ‘although we have plenty of fresh water,’ he nodded to the trickling brook, snaking out from the calm pool of water sitting in a natural reservoir. ‘There’s probably enough in there to last a week, maybe a little more. And then we’re in the lap of the gods,’ he flicked his hands up at the cloudless sky.

Gallus looked to the first cohort — still lining the northern lip of the plateau, waiting on the order to stand down. ‘Fine. Zosimus, Avitus — in lieu of Felix, you are promoted to be my optios. Zosimus, you’re in charge of keeping a cistern inside the fort — I don’t care what you use as long as it’s clean and it’s full. Avitus, you’re in charge of food. Collect all the men’s rations and set up a store. We’re going on half rations, so your next job is to tear every edible morsel from this hill and bolster what we have. Take ten men each.’ The rest of the cohort looked to their centurion expectantly, faces lashed with sweat and either pale with weakness or crimson with overheating. So many had been lost, he realised, only four hundred or so of the eight hundred full complement of the first cohort were present. He glanced briefly down the rocky slope they had just ascended — dead legionaries and auxiliaries lay still and silent in their armour like scattered scrap metal. Gallus shook his head wryly; ‘Keep a twenty on each face of this plateau. Three shifts a day. The rest of the first cohort — fall out!’

The cohort breathed a collective sigh of relief, moving as one to the fort gates, now being prised open fully by the second cohort.

‘Quadratus — hold on,’ he caught the big Gaul by the arm as he trudged past. ‘I’ve got two optios, so why not make it three. You’re in charge of the watch. I don’t care how tired these men are — they stay awake or they get their balls cut off!’

‘Heh! My pleasure, sir,’ Quadratus chuckled. The big Gaul’s eyes were red and bagged, but he was a man who would never relent to fatigue.

‘Right,’ Gallus cried, ‘let’s investigate this fort, get some food in our bellies and get our heads together — we need a plan!’ He stopped a moment, letting the wind catch his hair. He hadn’t thought of Olivia today until now. Not once. Guilt dug at him from all sides. He pulled his helmet back on and fastened the chin strap so tight that it dug into his skin and his mind cleared again. They had all seen too many of their comrades die today.

A cool wind blew in Pavo’s eyes, welcome but barely offsetting the heat of exhaustion. He watched Sura and Felix’s boots slap rhythmically in front of him, kicking up the chalky red dust into his parched throat and stinging eyes. A salty tang speckled the air as they rounded the eastern path towards the coast. The call of gulls had led them round until the marine blue of the Pontus Euxinus had replaced the green of the hills. Once the hill was between them and the battle and the clash of iron and screaming had stopped, it felt to Pavo as though they could have been a million miles away from danger. But a glance to the ground below was enough to shatter the moment of calm; a thick dark belt of Hun riders poured around the base of the hill like a serpent. If they could not get round and down from the hill before the jaws of the enemy closed around them then all was doomed. The walls of Chersonesos then peeked out from the edge of the hill — the battlements also writhed with Hun soldiers.