Soldier of Rome: The Last Campaign (The Artorian Chronicles) (40 page)

The enormous
machines were unloaded off their carts and arrayed in a long line, facing towards Mai Dun. All the while, the Second Legion’s cohorts continued their methodical advance in the distance. And while any type of heavy boulder would suffice, the engineers had been carving and smoothing down those that would be shot from the heavy siege engines, thereby ensuring greater accuracy. Two wagons of shot were placed behind each onager and ballista.

“Load!”
the centurion primus ordo in charge of the catapults shouted.

A similar command was echoed by the section leaders of the scorpions, who were arrayed just in front of and in between the three cohorts of the Twentieth Legion. While a single man could carry the stones used by the onagers, it took two men using a pair of carrying poles to lift the heavy shot into the siege ballistae. And while three or four men could readily man an onager, the largest of the ballistae took a minimum of eight. The throwing arms of the onagers were pulled back with heavy cranks, and several men on each ballista turned the large wheels that pulled back the double arms.

“Siege engines set!”
the centurion called out to his commanding legate.

“Scorpions ready!”
another officer shouted back.

Vespasian took a deep breath as the taunts and war cries from the ramparts grew louder.

“Time to bring the hammer down,” he said quietly before shouting his next order.
“Siege engines…fire!”

The loud slap of more than forty onager throwing arms slamming home, along with the loud screech of the heavy ballistae as they unleashed their heavy payloads jolted the legionaries positioned in front of them. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying for Artorius and his men as they watched the storm of death fly over their heads and towards their enemy.

The warriors on the wooden ramparts had never so much as seen a catapult before. So when the storm of several dozen large boulders was hurled at them, they stared, first in disbelief; this turned to abject terror at the last moment as both man and barricade were smashed to pieces. One warrior had his head smashed clean off his body, which stood momentarily with torrents of blood spewing from the stump his neck before tumbling unceremoniously over the ruptured ramparts. Another took an onager shot directly to the chest, sending him flying back and landing with a sickening crunch amongst his companions behind the barricades. His eyes were wide, tongue protruding between his bloodied teeth. Many of the catapult stones flew over the ramparts and landed amongst the warriors who were massed on the other side.

“What unholy magic is this?”
one of them screamed as he looked upon his friend’s shattered body that twitched violently after having been brutally crushed.

“The Romans have summoned the beasts of the underworld!” another snarled as he climbed up one of the rolling mounds near the gate. In an instant a scorpion bolt slammed into his throat and burst out the back in a spray of blood and bone. A volley of similar missiles fell amongst the defenders with several more falling
, either killed or badly injured.

“That woke them up a bit,” Vespasian chuckled darkly. “
Siege engines, fire at will; scorpions, fire by volley! Keep those bastards behind the ramparts suppressed!”

“Sir!”
his centurion primus ordo acknowledged.

Vespasian turned back to Artorius.
“We’ll beat them down for a while and then conduct the assault.”

“Understood,” the master centurion acknowledged.

His men were talking quietly amongst themselves, though they would jump with a start whenever an onager or ballistae close to them fired. Artorius then spoke over his shoulder to Magnus, “It’s almost unnerving for us, let alone what it must be doing to those poor bastards.”

Magnus snorted in reply. “I imagine the breach will be saturated with mutilated corpses before we even get there.”

“The paths will run red with blood,” a nearby legionary said quietly to himself.

After a few minutes of relentless bombardment, Vespasian calmly turned to Artorius. “Master Centurion Artorius, you may conduct your assault.”

“Yes
, sir!” Artorius drew his gladius and shouted an order that could be heard throughout the plain.
“Twentieth Legion! Forward…march!”

Without cheer or fanfare, the soldiers of his three cohorts silently stepped off and began their advance towards the ramparts. Shots from the ballistae and onagers continued to sail over their heads and smash into the palisade and earthworks. Advancing just ahead of his detachment was Achillia and her skirmishers. They moved at a quick jog and would provide continued covering support for the legionaries after the siege engines and scorpions ceased in their bombardment.

“She should not be here,” Magnus muttered to himself.

Artorius heard his words of concern.
“Take it easy, old friend,” he consoled. “Achillia is one of the best skirmishers we’ve ever had. Don’t forget what she did to those pirates in the Judean arena all those years ago.”

His words were of little comfort, for Artorius did not know of Achillia’s condition and why Magnus was especially worried about her safety. The Norseman knew there was nothing he could do. Either she would survive the day or she wouldn’t
, The same could be said for all of them. And at that moment, Magnus had his double-strength century of a hundred and sixty legionaries to concern himself with.

Ahead of the advancing formation, with catapult stones still sailing over their heads, Achillia and her warriors were soon within less than fifty meters of the ramparts when suddenly enemy skirmishers rose up and started unleashing with their bows and slings.

“
Zastavit!”
she shouted.

He
r men instinctively dropped to a knee and started to shoot back at their assailants. Though their hamata armor gave them some degree of protection, it did little good when one of the Syrians took an arrow to the neck. As he fell to the ground, clutching at the arrow that had snapped off in his bloodied neck, another was shot through the eye socket. He gave a quick shout of surprise and pain before death mercifully took him.

Achillia was taking her time, marking each target as it exposed itself before unleashing an arrow. Her movements were fluid and extremely fast, despite how fast her heart was pounding. She managed to keep her breathing slow and controlled, even as an enemy arrow shot past her head. She tried not to dwell on the fact that had it been just a couple inches to the right, she would be dead. The Durotriges had been battered severely by the storm of catapult shot and their barricade was a splintered ruin. However, they were far from beaten, and
with cover still available, they were holding their own against Achillia’s skirmishers who, though quick on their feet, were also exposed in the open. It seemed that for every enemy she or her men shot, one of them would, in turn, fall dead or wounded. Her mission had been to suppress the defenders until the legionaries closed the distance, and while successful, it was coming at a terrible price. Six of her fighters already lay dead with about three times as many badly injured, mostly to the arms and legs which were unprotected by armor.

The rapid footfalls of the advancing legionaries behind her were growing louder, and she knew it
was time to move. She released one last arrow, which caught an enemy warrior in the shoulder as he swung his sling to throw.

“R
ozptyl vlavo a vpravo!”
she ordered.

H
er skirmishers fanning out in either direction in order to make room for the Romans. She ran to the right of the advancing formation, where she saw Vespasian walking off to the right of the First Cohort, his cornicen beside him.

“The cohorts on the immediate left and right have a much steeper climb to make,” the legate said
, pointing with his sword. “Once they reach the top rampart, they will have to descend into a deep defilade before they can climb up the far side. I need your skirmishers to occupy the first rampart once they take it and cover them as they move up to the second.”

“Understood,” she replied. She then waved to her deputy on the far side of the field
. A few quick signals and he was leading his men off to the left rampart. She raced over to the Fifth Cohort and quickly found Centurion Tyranus. “I’m to cover your advance once you take the first rampart.”

“Very good,” the pilus prior replied. “Fall in behind us.”

“Advance!”

At Artorius
’ command, the soldiers of the First Cohort gave a loud battle cry and sprinted the last few meters to the smashed palisades. Legionaries in the first rank instinctively unleashed their javelins as Durotriges warriors gave a shout of their own and leapt over the barricades and earthworks. One man was impaled through the stomach as he jumped in the air, the shock of the weapon’s impact knocking him to the ground, where he writhed in unspeakable agony. Without need for subsequent orders, the men drew their gladii and a savage brawl commenced.

On the extreme right of the formation, Artorius scaled the earthen rampart where he was met by a crazed Briton with a large axe. The man caught the master centurion by surprise
, and Artorius quickly raised his shield, the first heavy blow reverberating down his arm and shoulder. A second blow came down too high, and Artorius managed to hook the curved axe blade with the top of his shield. He pulled hard while stepping forward and to the side, thrusting with his gladius simultaneously. As the warrior still held the higher ground, Artorius only managed to catch him in the thigh, the point of his weapon driving deep. The man shrieked and tumbled forward down the mound. Artorius let him go, knowing Magnus or one of his soldiers would finish the retch and continued his assault.

The mounds near the east gate were far shorter than the high, steep ramparts on the north and south faces, yet there were many more of them, all overlapping each other as the main path crisscrossed between them.
This rolling mass extended back more than a hundred meters before gradually sloping up towards the top of the hill fort. The mounds also served to break up the Roman formations, and Artorius saw that his century was divided into at least three or four groups, all engaged with massed hordes of barbarian warriors. The Romans did now hold the high ground. However, this first wave was badly outnumbered.