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  Behind them, the hardened veterans waited. Their chance would come at the top of the slope where the fighting would be the most vicious.

  ***

  The Tribunes sat their mounts in a loose formation around the General. Everyone relaxed a little as the Legionaries took back control of the battle.

  “Just as I planned,” bragged General Gurges. “We’ve pulled the majority of the rebels out of their merda-hole and brought them to the tip of our gladii.”

  A fire on the summit flared to life. When an amphora of oil was tossed on the flames, a column of black smoke rose high into the cloudless sky. Then, an Etruscī horn blared. The deep resonance floated over the struggling warriors and Legionaries.

  The beating of swords and gladii against armor and flesh continued. What changed was the addition of professional soldiers to the rebel forces. Ranks of ordered Etruscans crested the hill and marched down the steep slope to join the battle.

  ***

  After years of fighting and vicious engagements, the Etruscan civilization had been forced to sign treaties with the Republic. For two decades, they had supplied warriors to the Republic’s army. Now, some of those trained by Legionaries were turning the skills and weaponry against their teachers.

  The arrival of disciplined troops went unseen by the rookies and the experienced Legionaries. They were living and dying in a narrow world of pain and sweat. Their survival counted in heartbeats left no spare moment to take their eyes off the next screaming barbarian.

  A segment of the twelve hundred and twenty hardened veterans of the third maniple noticed the soldiers. But, without a signal from the General, the best fighters of the Legion couldn’t move up. Although the addition of armored Etruscan soldiers was seen, the information was useless.

  To the rear of the battle line, one person did notice the nine hundred Etruscan soldiers. General Gurges waved his Tribune corps into a horse mounted huddle.

  Chapter 2 - Unexpected Rebel Formation

  “I’m moving up the third maniple,” General Gurges explained. “Wait for the trumpets. Then we’ll see how those traitorous barbarians fare against our best.”

  “General. The horn, I understand,” commented Tribune Peregrinus. “But why did the rebels light a signal fire.”

  Pollenius Armenius Peregrinus was sixteen and the eldest son of a wealthy family with political connections. His assignment to Consul Gurges’ staff was only a way to give the lad military experience. Years from now, Pollenius could use his Legion time to further his political ambitions. When General Gurges brought the Legion together to crush the Etruscan uprising, it presented an opportunity. An easy win and useful experience, his father boasted as he packed his son off to war.

  General Gurges studied his youngest and least experienced Tribune. If time permitted, he’d counsel the youth on not interrupting when his elders were speaking. But, Gurges was busy. Instead, he decided to remove the lad from the battlefield.

  “Tribune Peregrinus. Take charge of the reserve Centuries. And watch. Maybe you’ll learn something,” General Gurges ordered. Then returning his attention to the other Tribunes, he directed. “Prepare the cavalry to turn the barbarian line. I want this over by nightfall.”

  The plan was for the mounted Legionaries to roll the ends of the Etruscan line inward. Once constrained, the enemy front would shorten allowing the heavy infantry to concentrate the fight on a narrower front. On an open plain or even in the foothills, it was a superb use of cavalry. However, the steep slopes of Volsinii were not ideal for the Legion’s cavalry.

  “Signalman. Standby to advance the first maniple,” Gurges ordered the trumpeter as the Tribunes rode off to alert their segments of the battle line. “Then we’ll let the cavalry have a bit of joy.”

  “On your command, Sir,” the trumpeter assured his General.

  Gurges sat comfortably on his horse turning his head from side to side. He was pleased with the speed of his Tribunes. They raced from Centurion to Centurion and soon the last two Tribunes reached the cavalry units. His seventy-five mounted Legionaries on either end of the battlefield received his orders and the Tribunes waved their arms. The motion was picked up by the other Tribunes. Like a ripple in a pond, the wave rolled from the far ends of the Legion’s line until they converged on the General. With all of his units ready, he glanced down at the trumpeter.

  “Sound the advance for the first maniple,” Gurges ordered. He waited patiently for the trumpets down the line to repeat the signal. Once the veteran infantrymen shifted forward to enter the battle, the General added. “Signal the cavalry!”

  ***

  For the leading edge of the Etruscī and Insubri warriors, meeting the first maniple was shocking. One moment they were battling well trained but average Legionaries. Then, spaces opened between the Legionaries and a different kind of human stepped into the gaps. The experienced, and what was left of the rookie Legionaries, stepped back. Suddenly, the tribesmen faced a many clawed beast.

  The hardened veterans of the third maniple advanced. Their gladii pumping as if churning butter and their shields thrusting forward in bone breaking rhythm. By the time the trained ranks of Etruscan soldiers pushed aside their tribesmen brothers and reached the front line, the third maniple was warmed up and ready for them.

  ***

  The General wasn’t a fan of horsemen, especially for a short excursion into the foothills along the Tiber river. He couldn’t justify the expense but, to satisfy the Senate, he allotted for one hundred fifty when he presented his plan to the Senate. A few Senators with military experience voiced concerns, but in the end, the plan was approved. The Senate allowed the formation of Gurges Legion with fewer horsemen.

  Mounted troops did serve one purpose. The cost of maintaining his mounts and those of his Tribunes got distributed through the cavalry budget. Not only would he make a fortune on slaves and bounty from putting down the Volsinii rebellion, he’d do it under budget. Although the citizens didn’t care about such things, the Senate did. Certainly, he could use it as an example when he surrendered the Consulship in a couple of weeks and resumed his place in the Senate.

  Every time a would-be hero of the Republic came forward asking for gold to finance a Legion, Quintus Fabius Gurges would stand and, with the assurance of a successful General, he’d cut the adventurers budget. The General laughed at his own cleverness as his understrength cavalry units nudged their mounts forward.

  ***

  Foot soldiers responded to enemy cavalry because it was hard to defend against moving mounts. Huge numbers of fast-moving hooves and long swords chopping down from on high as the horsemen passed were devastating. If the infantrymen were in formation, the ends of their lines were the most vulnerable. In an open field and out of formation, the cavalry was an infantrymen’s worst nightmare. But on steep terrain, the mounts couldn’t get speed or maneuver with any authority.

  Rather than turning a few Etruscī and Insubri inward, the mounted Legionaries confronted massed warriors. The introduction of organized Etruscan soldiers to the center of the line allowed the tribesmen to push reinforcements to both ends. There, they lowered their spears and long swords and engaged the cavalry. The Legion mounts struggled up the slope and approached in columns. Instead of a cavalry charge, it became a series of tedious horseback sword fights. The mounted troops climbed to the fight, swung their swords a few times, then came about and descended the hill. At the bottom, they got back in the column and prepared to do another circuit.

  On the other end of the Legion line, that cavalry unit also got bogged down in a chain of passing flourishes. As the battle for Volsinii progressed, the barbarian line remained fully extended. This prevented the Legion’s infantry from forming into three ranks where they could rotate men off the shield wall and give the veterans a rest.

  Chapter 3 – Reserve Status

  Tribune Peregrinus trotted his horse away from General Gurges and the Tribunes. Although the spirited horse moved with its head held high, hoov
es flashing and bristling with energy, its rider displayed none of those attributes.

  Peregrinus’ cheeks flushed and burned hot at the shame of being dismissed from the battlefield. He slumped on the neck of his horse and sulked. Somewhere in the young Tribune’s misery, he began to worry.

  What would he tell his father? While the other Tribunes were riding back and forth coordinating the Legion, Pollenius Armenius Peregrinus was exiled to the Legion camp as a spectator.

  And the reserve units? A ragged collection from the Central and Eastern Legions. No doubt misfits sent by their Centurions to rid their units of problems.

  They didn’t even qualify for a maniple. He’d watched them drill. The reserve Centuries practiced squad tactics and two-line attack formations. Compared to the power of the three-line maniples, it was almost sad to watch them. Maybe they were valuable in garrisons but, here on a true battlefield, they were only fit for reserve status.

  ***

  Peregrinus jerked his horse to a stop and eyed the reserves. There should be four hundred and eighty Legionaries and line officers. Yet he could only see about a third of that number. The rest were probably in the fortified camp sleeping, or off hiding, and drinking cheap wine.

  An old Centurion marched up to him and, after a cross chest salute, asked, “Orders, Tribune?”

  “Just watch. Maybe you’ll learn something,” Peregrinus spit out.

  “Yes, sir,” the Centurion replied calmly before walking away.

  Peregrinus wanted to dismount and pace, or stomp the ground, to release his frustration. But he was of the Patrician class and it would be unseemly for common citizens, let alone Legionaries, to witness his fit of temper.

  “The General committed his cavalry too soon,” announced a voice in the crowd of reserve Legionaries.

  Peregrinus’ head snapped around and he shouted, “Who said that?”

  “I did, Tribune,” admitted one of the reserve Legionaries.

  The man was just a few years older than Peregrinus but carried scars on the crown of his head, on both arms and on his thigh. Although he had a pleasant face, the scars made him look like a brawler, which only confirmed the young Tribune’s opinion of the reserve units.

  “Name?” Peregrinus demanded.

  “Lance Corporal Alerio Sisera,” the Legionary replied.

  “Sisera. Keep your mouth shut,” Peregrinus ordered. “When General Gurges wants your opinion, I’m sure he’ll ask for it.”

  “Yes, Tribune,” the Legionary replied.

  ***

  As soon as the young Tribune turned around, another Legionary bristled, stood straighter, and opened his mouth. Before the hot-headed Legionary could say anything, Alerio jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. The Legionary gasped but, the elbow worked, he didn’t say anything to the Tribune.

  “Private Drustanus. Lance Corporal Sisera. A word if you please,” called out a Sergeant.

  Drustanus and Sisera picked up their three javelins and their shields and walked over to the Century’s Optio.

  “In times of battle, our nerves are on edge,” Sergeant Meleager advised them. “Our blood gets up and we’re ready to lash out verbally or fight. Now, a wise man saves his ire and energy for the barbarians. As the Tribune pointed out, watch and maybe you’ll learn something. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sergeant,” Alerio answered.

  While the talk was aimed at the Legionaries, Tribune Peregrinus couldn’t help but overhear the comments. He didn’t see Sergeant Meleager and old Centurion Seneca exchange nods.

  ***

  From the Legion camp, the men fighting on the hill at Volsinii were small, almost finger sized figures. But the lines were clear as the Legionaries fought, and the horsemen tried again and again to turn the barbarians.

  One simple fact of a shield wall was both sides grew exhausted. Commanders needed to feed fresh bodies into the fray to maintain momentum. Without the relief, even the ablest veteran soon wore out. And while the first maniple had been hammering the Etruscī and Insubri warriors, the failure of the cavalry to shorten the barbarian’s line required them to stay in the extended rank. When the Legion’s NCOs managed to send the newest and the experienced Legionaries back into the rotation, the moves resulted in the Legion line falling back a few steps. Both sides were slowing down in their ferocity except the tight ranks of the Etruscan soldiers. They were maintaining a cycle of rotation, keeping fresh troops in the fight. The truth of a shield wall was rested troops won the battle.

  The other truth of a shield wall was an outside force could change the outcome of a conflict. Unfortunately, the force wasn’t from the Republic.

  ***

  Tribune Peregrinus sat transfixed as the Legion began back stepping. Fighting uphill against the press of bodies from above prevented the Legionaries from shoving the barbarians to make room for advancing. Plus, the extended line stunted a regular rotation. Those issues, in combination with the number of rebel tribesmen and the organized Etruscan soldiers, resulted in the Legion giving ground.

  A whistle sounded from the far-right corner of the fortified Legion camp. Peregrinus hesitated a moment before turning to look in the direction of the whistle.

  More than half of the reserve Centuries were running in that direction. Behind him, three squads sprinted for the left corner of the camp.

  “Centurion. What’s going on?” demanded the young Tribune.

  “Barbarian cavalry coming from the north,” Seneca replied as calmly as if it was a parade ground exercise. “It’ll do the men good to have a Tribune present.”

  “Shouldn’t we go reinforce the General?” stammered Peregrinus.

  “No, sir. The Legion will do a fighting retreat,” Seneca advised. “They need a place to retreat to more than a few extra gladii.”

  “Yes, of course,” Peregrinus declared as he turned his horse. “I’ll go review our positions.”

  “A fine idea, Tribune,” Centurion Seneca stated as the young man kicked his horse into action. Then over his shoulder, he shouted, “Sergeant Meleager. Who do you want guarding the gate?”

  “Seventh Squad, sir,” the Sergeant replied.

  “Isn’t that Sisera’s squad?” Seneca asked. “Why him?”

  “I have friends in the Southern Legion,” replied the Sergeant. “If you’re going to be out numbered, Lance Corporal Sisera is the man you want at your side.”

  “Alright, give him thirty extra bodies,” Seneca suggested. “Now I wish we’d selected a new Corporal for the Century.”

  “I agree, sir,” Sergeant Meleager answered by holding up an ink stained right hand. Without a Corporal to act as the Century’s treasurer, the reports and accounting fell to the Sergeant. He wasn’t sure what he disliked the most. The ink from writing, or the long hours of administrative work done, after a day of training his men.

  Chapter 4 – Ravine Mayhem

  “We’ll wedge it,” announced Lance Corporal Sisera.

  “Wouldn’t a straight-line formation work better?” asked another Lance Corporal.

  “For guarding the entrance, yes,” Alerio admitted. “But as the Legion comes in, they’ll break your integrity. Remember, we have to let our guys in and keep the barbarians out.”

  “My squad will take the north side of the wedge,” the Lance Corporal stated. “Because that’s the direction the barbarian horsemen are coming from.”

  Alerio nodded his approval before looking at his Left and Right-Side Pivot men.

  “Cimon. Drustanus. Where do you want the squad to be?” he inquired. “It’ll be safest at the stockade wall.”

  “Where will you be Lance Corporal?” Cimon asked.

  “Seeing as Sergeant Meleager put me in charge of this detail,” Alerio stated. “I’ll be at the head of the wedge.”

  “Then I’ll be on your right,” announced Drustanus.

  “And I’ll be on your left,” Cimon reported.

  Moments later, Sergeant Meleager of the Forty-seventh Century, Gurges Legion j
ogged from the south end of the Legion’s fortified camp. As he approached the gate, he slowed to look over the defensive formation.

  Sisera stood at the tip of a wedge with three javelins jammed into the ground at his side. Private Cimon was on his left side two Legionaries back from the Lance Corporal. Private Drustanus stood in the same position on the other side. A double line of Legionaries on each side of the wedge stretched back in a vee-formation to the stockade’s gate posts.

  The Sergeant nodded his approval and continued jogging past the wedge towards the northern defensive position. He believed in giving good men a chance and letting them do their job. Alerio Sisera was a good candidate for the Tesserarius position. But he was only here for the rebellion. Once the fighting was over, the Lance Corporal would take leave to visit his family’s farm before reporting back to the Southern Legion.

  ***

  Tribune Peregrinus found three hundred seventy Legionaries on the north side of the camp. They were in a double line stretching from the bank of the Tiber river to the foothills. The formation was situated to block the approaching barbarians’ line of march. Instead of a straight gallop at the Legion, or the camp, the horsemen needed to go into the foothills or through the Legionaries.

  A senior Centurion marched up to his horse and asked, “Orders, Tribune?”

  Peregrinus realized, for the first time in his life, he was in charge of something important. His chest swelled with pride and he no longer worried about what to tell his father.

  “How did you know about the barbarian cavalry?” Peregrinus asked.

  “The signal smoke from Volsinii,” explained the Centurion. “It couldn’t be for the local fighters. Centurion Seneca decided they must be sending a message to another force. He ordered the formation.”