Act 2, Chapter 2 of The Ashes of Rome
“They seem unprepared,” I said.
Brennus growled, deep in his throat. “Arruns could hardly hold his tongue about the prowess of these Romans.” He spat the last word like a curse.
We stood on a promontory a little way north of the enemy. The Allia, little more than a stream, cut through the plain, coursing to join the much larger Tiber to the northwest. Several hills sloped down toward the plain south and west of us. The Roman army, if it could be called such, milled about the far side of the plain and the lower hills.
“How many warriors have they brought?” Brennus asked.
“Lukotorix reports no more than thirteen thousand,” I replied, doubt tingeing my voice.
“Fah! So few? We have twice their number. What are they thinking?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps they believe their warriors are our superiors. While brief, my time in their city was instructive. They are an arrogant people.”
Brennus nodded thoughtfully. “They have spread their line too thin. They fear our superior numbers will let us outflank them, but in compensating, they have barely enough men in place to give us even a moment’s pause.”
Something caught my eye, then — light glinting on weapons to the south, almost hidden within the hills. “Look there, on that hill!”
“They look to be Roman reserves.”
I nodded. “Does it not strike you as odd that the enemy would position them so? Their center is too thin to withstand even a modest assault, and, as you say, we outnumber them. Why tuck their reserves away when they could bolster their main force’s strength?”
Brennus’s eyes widened. “That’s the trap! Well spotted, Talos. When we ride at their center line, the reserves on the hill will descend to attack our flank.” His grin was fierce. “Shall we turn the tables on the bastards?”
My answering grin was equally fierce. Finally, the Romans would pay for their hubris and betrayal.
“Then listen well. I’ll need you with me, and Urus and Iestinus in the middle…”
I listened as Brennus detailed his plan, and my heart beat faster at the thought of what was to come.
When he had finished, he said, “Go and tell Urus and the others. Make sure they understand their part in this.”
I nodded and left.
I found Urus with Lukotorix and Iestinus. “Brennus has a plan. He suspects that the Romans have set a trap for us.”
Urus shook his shaggy head. “Talos, these fools don’t have the sense the gods gave an earthworm. They’ve set up no breastworks, no fortifications of any kind!”
“That’s part of why Brennus thinks it’s a trap.”
“I think it’s more likely that they are inexperienced or we caught them unawares,” Lukortorix broke in. “Were we not in control of this place before they even appeared?” He laughed. “Besides, my scouts got close enough to overhear some of the soldiers complaining that the commanders had not even cast an augury before setting out.”
Urus roared with laughter. “They’re so sure of themselves that they ignore even the gods!”
“That may work to our advantage if their gods are offended,” I said. “Now, listen to Brennus’s plan.”
✸✸✸
Summer sunshine glinted off steel and flesh. We stood arrayed in a deep front running from the south bank of the Tiber across the gentle valley and into the hills on the other side. Our warriors clashed their swords and spears against their shields and hurled war cries like javelins at the opposing Romans. The charioteers took turns racing back and forth between the two armies, naked warriors in the back of the boxes flashing their genitals at the Romans in mockery.
“They seem unsure about what welcome to give us,” Brennus said with a rough laugh.
I spared a glance at the Romans. Their lines remained too thin, and many of them milled about, hesitant in the face of our taunts.
“Perhaps this will be a new experience for them,” I replied.
“Let’s hope they are slow learners!”
Brennus and I were at the southern end of our line. Urus and Iestinus marched in the middle. Garamaros, Boudia, and Lukotorix were scattered through the rest of the host. Catta was out there somewhere, too. As the image of her crooked smile and tawny hair filled my mind’s eye, I wondered what this all meant for us. Her dream of a farm on the fertile land around Clusium had turned to smoke, but what might the gods grant us now? Motion to my left caught my attention, and there was no more time for thought.
Brennus strode out before the gathered warriors, sword raised high to catch the sunlight. “We invoke you, Cathubodua, Battle-Crow, Causer of Great Slaughter!” he roared, voice carrying clear across the battlefield. “We call on you to deliver the enemy into our hands! We cry to you for vengeance for Belinus! We, the Senones, the Ancient Ones, blood of mighty Senonos, invoke you!”
Then the carnyxes blew, and we were charging. Screaming our war cries, we poured onto the plain, the tread of our feet a dread thunder that shook the world. Something deeper rode beneath the wail of the trumpets, something that steeled our spines and strengthened our sword arms. I glanced behind and saw our carnyxes shining with golden fire in the sun, but it was the figure standing on the small rise that made my heart leap in my chest. Cathubodua herself stood there, her long black hair and feathered cloak streaming in the wind. Her eyes blazed with white fire, and her mouth gaped wide in a battle shriek.
Perhaps realizing their mistake, the Romans desperately tried to strengthen their lines, but it was for naught. Now, Brennus’s plan came into action. Urus and Iestinus led the middle forward, toward the enemy’s position, but Brennus and I raced with our warriors toward the reserves stationed on the hilltop. Terror fell on the Romans then as we crashed into the reserves like an avalanche down a mountainside. Most of them fled, and those who did not were cut down where they stood.
Hearing the clash, realizing their reserves had been destroyed, and seeing us turn our attention downhill toward them, the Roman center disintegrated. The front ranks turned to run and collided with those behind them. I watched, dumbfounded, as Roman fought Roman as they tried to flee. At the same time, the rest of our forces smashed into their lines. I saw Urus slashing about him with his sword, its longer reach putting the few Romans who tried to resist at a disadvantage. And then we were among them.
A Roman swung his sword at me, but I easily deflected the blow. My return took his arm off at the elbow, and he fell to the ground screaming. The press was so great that I do not believe he rose again. Brennus was beside me, his sword singing a song of slaughter as it cut through armor and flesh and bone. I watched as a Roman officer tried to stand against him, only to be struck down without landing a blow. Then I was pulled away from Brennus by the tide of battle.
An enemy soldier, little more than a pimply boy, threw his pilum at me, but I knocked it out of the air with my sword, then charged forward and cut his legs out from under him. An older fighter took his place and managed to slip through my defense and nick my arm, but I did not even feel the wound. I returned the blow, and he fell.
Then somehow Catta was at my side, blood splashed across her face, her eyes bright, and her spear strong. We fought back-to-back for long minutes, until there were no more enemies to slay. The Romans’ flight had become a route. They fled northwest toward the Tiber, and we pursued them. Many of the soldiers tried to swim across wearing their armor, only for the weight to drag them beneath the water. Others died pierced through by Gaulish javelins, never to reach the far shore.
I looked around and found that we were alone on the plain. The Romans were either dead or had fled. We were victorious. Brennus caught my attention and gestured for me to come to him. Dragging Catta with me, I approached.
“We carried the day,” I said by way of congratulations, but Brennus did not smile.
“Something is amiss. That was no battle; it was a slaughter,” he replied.
“The gods were with us,” I suggested.
Brennus shook his head. “Perhaps, but I fear there is more to it than that.”
“You still suspect a ruse?”
“I do. Let our warriors loot what they will from the fallen, but I want everyone battle-ready within the hour. Something does not sit well with me, and we should be prepared in case the Romans seek to lull us into a false sense of security.”
✸✸✸
And so, we waited, using the time to care for the few wounded we had and bury our dead. We left the dead Romans where they lay. Cathubodua’s crows would feast well today.
“How long will he wait?” Garamaros asked, examining a Roman pilum before discarding it.
I shrugged. “Only the gods know. He has the right of it, though. This was too easy by half. If I were a cunning Roman general and unafraid to sacrifice my forces, I would circle within those hills to the south and ready an assault for when we were at our most distracted.”
Garamaros grunted. “That’s a lot of thought put into something that may or may not happen.”
I laughed. “Gods love you, Gar, but you’ve the tactical skill of a hare.”
“I just find it much simpler to take things as they come.” He tapped his head. “It spares you the headache of all that worrying and gives you more time for song and drink!”
“Talos!” a voice called out, cutting our conversation short. I looked up to find Iestinus jogging toward us.
“What is it?”
“Brennus has had enough waiting. We march on Rome itself!”
“Gods, it’s about time,” Garamaros muttered.
I said nothing but silently agreed with him. I understood Brennus’s worry and felt much the same myself, but we needed to capitalize on our good fortune. The call went up, and we set forth with a will. The city stood only eleven miles away, and we were committed to righting the wrong done by the Fabii.
It took us much of the remaining day, but as the sun began to sink in the west, we finally came into view of Rome. Her gate stood open, and no soldiers manned her walls. A preternatural stillness rolled outward from the city, but we knew that was a lie. Her people hid within, harboring our betrayers. Many of our number paused at seeing the city. This was no Clusium, easily cowed with a minor show of force. Tens of thousands of Romans lived, worked, slept, and loved here. And no small number of them would die there unless something changed.
Once more, Brennus stepped forward, sword in hand, blood from the earlier battle painting him in gore.
“Where is Rome’s might now?” Brennus demanded, his strong voice carrying into the city. “We have vanquished the host sent against us and will do the same for the rest of her warriors!” There was no response to his challenge. “Where are those haughty men who willingly transgress the sacred laws?” Still, there was no reply. “They hide in fear, cowering from our swords and spears, from the fire of our eyes!” he spat. Only deep silence answered him.
Turning from the gate, Brennus called out to his followers, “We camp here tonight. We will set watch for any sneaking attacks under the cover of darkness and, in the morning light, we will take the city!”
As the sun set, we turned our attention to making camp. Tents were erected, horses picketed, and fires lit. The scent of roasting meat permeated the night. Laughter came from around those fires as warriors enjoyed their wine and camaraderie. Doubtless, Garamaros was somewhere not thinking about the morrow, but I found it impossible to put such thoughts away. The hulking, silent city taunted me with the unknown.
“There will be glory, if nothing else,” I muttered at last and went to find Catta and see what we might get up to together.
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