hand-holds. The first brave souls onto the earthworks paid dearly for their audacity. One took a spear thrust to the chest. Another into his eye socket, giving an unholy shriek as blood spurted forth, leaving him thrashing on the ground, begging for death. A third was stabbed in the groin as he leapt onto the ramparts.
The Roman auxiliaries had formed a long battle line of three ranks. Their formation was looser than that of legionaries, keeping several feet between each other. And while they were often regarded as second-rate fighters, not to mention more expendable, they were still professional soldiers with far superior training and armament than their foes. As more warriors scaled over the earthworks, the weight of the Ordovices assault drove into their thin line, with several auxilia troopers being cut down as they were driven back into the camp. The assailants outnumbered the imperial soldiers almost three-to-one, yet they failed to press their advantage. Those who tried to break the Roman lines often fell victim to the overlapping walls of spears.
A series of individual brawls broke out along the line, and despite the protection offered by both their discipline and armour, the auxiliaries were still suffering casualties. Men on both sides could expect no mercy, and yet, because their enemies failed to launch the full weight of their horde against them, the Romans were getting the better of the exchange. With the constant crashing of spears against shields, none of the auxilia officers realized that they were simply being distracted from their adversaries’ actual goal.
The attack on the prisoner stockade came from the west without war horns or battle cries. It was only when a nervous infantryman spied movement near the far embankments of the outer camp that he sounded the alarm. As the Roman officers shouted orders for their men to form battle lines, they were swarmed by nearly a thousand enemy assailants. A hundred more rushed towards the smaller, lone stockade. These men cared nothing for the Deceangli women and children, nor their cowardly warriors who had surrendered ignominiously to the Romans.
As the axes of Ordovices warriors hacked down the gate of the stockade, Elisedd thought he was being rescued by this old allies and protectors. The fierce anger in the eyes of his ‘saviours’ soon told him otherwise. Before the war chief could say a word, a spear butt was slammed into his forehead, knocking him unconscious. His wife screamed but was smashed across the face by another warrior’s fist. The two were then carried from the stockade, surrounded by a score of Ordovices warriors. As they passed the ongoing melee with the Roman auxilia, piteous cries came from the prisoners.
“Please, take us with you!”
“Our friends, do not abandon us!”
Fury overcoming them, several warriors began attacking their former allies. Twenty Deceangli prisoners were killed, with at least twice as many badly mauled before the enraged Ordovices heeded the calls of their leaders to desist.
At the eastern ramparts, the attacking warriors heard the high-pitched sound of the war horn ordering their retreat. This proved problematic for those directly engaging the Roman auxilia. As Ordovices fighters climbed over the palisade stakes and tumbled back into the trench below, the imperial troopers surged forward, intent on slaying as many as possible. Their overzealous counterattack proved costly to a handful of infantrymen, who were skewered in their unprotected regions by spears or hacked to pieces by hand axes. For the Ordovices, however, the withdrawal proved even more punishing. There was simply no way to navigate past the rows of sharp stakes without exposing themselves to thrusts from both spear and gladius. Devoid as most of the warriors were of armour, the Romans’ counter-strikes proved deadly. Then there was the matter of negotiating through the trench with all its obstacles. Numerous warriors who’d been
The Roman auxiliaries had formed a long battle line of three ranks. Their formation was looser than that of legionaries, keeping several feet between each other. And while they were often regarded as second-rate fighters, not to mention more expendable, they were still professional soldiers with far superior training and armament than their foes. As more warriors scaled over the earthworks, the weight of the Ordovices assault drove into their thin line, with several auxilia troopers being cut down as they were driven back into the camp. The assailants outnumbered the imperial soldiers almost three-to-one, yet they failed to press their advantage. Those who tried to break the Roman lines often fell victim to the overlapping walls of spears.
A series of individual brawls broke out along the line, and despite the protection offered by both their discipline and armour, the auxiliaries were still suffering casualties. Men on both sides could expect no mercy, and yet, because their enemies failed to launch the full weight of their horde against them, the Romans were getting the better of the exchange. With the constant crashing of spears against shields, none of the auxilia officers realized that they were simply being distracted from their adversaries’ actual goal.
The attack on the prisoner stockade came from the west without war horns or battle cries. It was only when a nervous infantryman spied movement near the far embankments of the outer camp that he sounded the alarm. As the Roman officers shouted orders for their men to form battle lines, they were swarmed by nearly a thousand enemy assailants. A hundred more rushed towards the smaller, lone stockade. These men cared nothing for the Deceangli women and children, nor their cowardly warriors who had surrendered ignominiously to the Romans.
As the axes of Ordovices warriors hacked down the gate of the stockade, Elisedd thought he was being rescued by this old allies and protectors. The fierce anger in the eyes of his ‘saviours’ soon told him otherwise. Before the war chief could say a word, a spear butt was slammed into his forehead, knocking him unconscious. His wife screamed but was smashed across the face by another warrior’s fist. The two were then carried from the stockade, surrounded by a score of Ordovices warriors. As they passed the ongoing melee with the Roman auxilia, piteous cries came from the prisoners.
“Please, take us with you!”
“Our friends, do not abandon us!”
Fury overcoming them, several warriors began attacking their former allies. Twenty Deceangli prisoners were killed, with at least twice as many badly mauled before the enraged Ordovices heeded the calls of their leaders to desist.
At the eastern ramparts, the attacking warriors heard the high-pitched sound of the war horn ordering their retreat. This proved problematic for those directly engaging the Roman auxilia. As Ordovices fighters climbed over the palisade stakes and tumbled back into the trench below, the imperial troopers surged forward, intent on slaying as many as possible. Their overzealous counterattack proved costly to a handful of infantrymen, who were skewered in their unprotected regions by spears or hacked to pieces by hand axes. For the Ordovices, however, the withdrawal proved even more punishing. There was simply no way to navigate past the rows of sharp stakes without exposing themselves to thrusts from both spear and gladius. Devoid as most of the warriors were of armour, the Romans’ counter-strikes proved deadly. Then there was the matter of negotiating through the trench with all its obstacles. Numerous warriors who’d been
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