Onslaught_The Centurions II, page 1
Contents
By the same author in The Centurions series
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Maps
Acknowledgements
List of Characters
Preface
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Historical Note
Keep Reading …
By the same author in The Centurions series
Betrayal
By the same author in the Empire series
Wounds of Honour
Arrows of Fury
Fortress of Spears
The Leopard Sword
The Wolf’s Gold
The Eagle’s Vengeance
The Emperor’s Knives
Thunder of the Gods
Altar of Blood
www.hodder.co.uk
First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Hodder & Stoughton
An Hachette UK company
Copyright © Anthony Riches 2017
The right of Anthony Riches to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 473 62877 9
Hodder & Stoughton Ltd
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For Helen
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As ever, I am indebted to the patience of my editor Carolyn and the smooth facilitation of her assistants, Abby and now Thorne, the indefatigable publicity efforts of Kerry and Rosie and the constant encouragement – only occasionally backed up with the use of force – of my wife Helen. My thanks to all of you who encouraged, cajoled and generally helped me to deliver a readable book.
Jona Lendering, owner of the fantastic Livius website (livius.org) very kindly agreed to cast an eye over the manuscript and point out any gross errors. His comments have proven immensely valuable in more than one respect (‘there were no trees there so your character can’t run off and hide in them’, for example), and I am hugely indebted. Thank you, Jona.
And thank you, the reader, for continuing to read these stories. Please keep reading. We’re only taking a temporary break from the Empire series, by the way, and once this story of the Batavian revolt as seen through the eyes of the men I’ve imagined fighting on both sides is done Marcus and his familia will return.
One last thing. There’s a gold aureus from the time of Vespasian – yes, a real Roman gold coin – to be won by one lucky reader in my Centurions competition. All you have to do is go to my website and enter the answers to three questions that you’ll find there, the answers to which are contained in Betrayal, Onslaught and Retribution as each book is published. There’s no restriction on when you enter each answer, multiple entries are allowed; but the last answer given will be taken as your definitive entry, and all answers will be invisible to everyone except myself and my trusted webmaster (who’s not allowed to enter). I’ll be offering separate raffle prizes shortly after this book is published for entries received for each question – details on the website. Don’t hold back: get your entries in early to win unique Centurions artwork and other goodies. Please do get puzzling, think cryptically, and the very best of luck – someone’s got to win it, so why not you?
LIST OF CHARACTERS
AD43
In Britannia
Titus Flavius Vespasianus – legatus, imperial 2nd legion Augustan
Gaius Hosidius Geta – legatus, imperial 14th legion Gemina
Sextus – senior centurion, imperial 14th legion Gemina
Julius Civilis – centurion, allied Batavian cohorts
Draco – prefect and commander, allied Batavian cohorts
AD69
In Rome
Aulus Vitellius – emperor
Aulus Caecina Alienus – consul and army commander
Fabius Valens – consul and army commander
Alfenius Varus – praetorian prefect
In the Old Camp (modern day Vetera)
Marius – senior centurion, imperial 5th legion Alaudae
Munius Lupercus – legatus commanding imperial legions 5th Alaudae and 15th Primigenia
Marcus Hordeonius Flaccus – legatus augusti commanding all Roman forces in Germania
Claudius Labeo – prefect commanding the 1st cohort Batavian Horse
In the Winter Camp (modern day Mainz)
Dillius Vocula – legatus commanding imperial legion 22nd Primigenia
Antonius – senior centurion, imperial legion 22nd Primigenia
In Bonna (modern day Bonn)
Herrenius Gallus – legatus commanding imperial legion 1st Germanica
With the Batavian cohorts in Germania Superior
Scar – prefect, commanding the eight Batavian cohorts
Aelius Verus – tribune, sent to order the Batavian cohorts to return to Italy
Alcaeus – centurion, 2nd century of the 1st Batavian cohort
Banon – chosen man, 2nd century
Grimmaz – leading man
Egilhard (Achilles) – soldier
Andreios (The First One) – soldier
Andronicus (The Other One) – soldier
Adalwin (Beaky) – soldier
Levonhard (Ugly) – soldier
Lanzo (Dancer) – soldier
Wigbrand (Tiny) – soldier
On the Island (the Batavi homeland)
Aquillius – former senior centurion, imperial legion 8th Augusta, defeated commander of detached auxiliary forces
Kivilaz – (known as Julius Civilis by Rome) – prince of the Batavi, commander of the tribe’s revolt against Rome
Hramn – decurion, commander of the Batavi Guard (formerly the Emperor’s German Bodyguard)
Draco – former prefect of the Batavian cohorts, tribal elder
Brinno – king of the Cananefates tribe, allies of the Batavi
Lataz – retired veteran and father of Egilhard
Frijaz – retired veteran and brother of Lataz
Preface
It is August of AD 69, and the Roman Empire is staring disaster in the face. A period of little more than twelve months has already seen three emperors: Nero, hounded to suicide by an enraged senate; his successor Galba murdered on the streets of Rome by praetorians in the pay of the usurper Otho; and Vitellius, his path to the throne cut by the bloody swords of the German legions. In the east, Vespasianus, the only potential challenger for imperial power left alive is gathering legions to himself, preparing for an invasion of Italy that must result in yet another climactic battle for domination.
And at the lowest point of Roman rule for a hundred years, just as things could apparently be no worse, the Batavi tribe of Germania Inferior and their German tribal allies have risen in revolt, driven both by Roman duplicity and the ambitions of their war leader Kivilaz, Civilis to his former allies. Through a combination of cunning, ferocity, betrayal and the duplicity of officers with loyalty to Vespasianus, eager to foster an uprising to deny his rival critical reinforcements from Germania, the revolt’s first engagements have ended in comprehensive defeat for Rome’s overstretched frontier army. The Batavi are seemingly poised to take their war onto imperial territory and attack the legionary fortress that watches their homeland, the Old Camp, if they can be assured of the support of their powerful cohorts.
As a former ally of Rome, and having participated in the brutal suppression of Britannia’s Iceni tribe a decade before, Kivilaz knows only too well the devastation that Rome has historically visited on any tribe that dares to challenge the empire’s military might – enslavement, resettlement and genocide. And yet Rome has never looked more vulnerable to a knife in the back.
Prologue
Britannia, June AD 43
‘It won’t be long before they attack us again, First Spear.’
Legatus Vespasianus’s voice was deliberately pitched low, and he glanced with fatherly sympathy at the two young tribunes sleeping fitfully under their cloaks in a corner of his legion’s improvised field headquarters.
‘What an introduction to battle, eh Julius? I’d hope to blood our men with something a little less horrific than a full day of barbarian savagery followed by a night of arrows and infiltrators. And once the sun’s up we can expect those blue-faced maniacs to come down that hill at us with fresh fire in their bellies. And while they lack any real quality when it comes to swordplay, I think we both know that overwhelming numbers have a quality all of their own.’
The Second Legion’s commander looked out into the darkness that surro unded his men, his body tensed against the weariness of having been on his feet for more than a day with only the briefest moments of snatched sleep. He shook his head in continued disbelief at the seemingly limitless number of tribal warriors that had been continuously thrown into battle against his legion’s tenuous bridgehead on the river Medui’s western bank throughout the previous day.
‘And we’re victims of our own hubris, it has to be said. How the gods must have laughed when I agreed that we should attempt to force a crossing of the river with just one legion! Come on, let’s do the rounds of the front line shall we, and give the men something to laugh at before it starts all over again? You can do some motivational shouting, and I’ll tell them that they’ve “all done very well” in that voice the emperor uses when he’s inspecting his praetorians. I’ll just have to find a marble to put in my mouth first …’
His first spear chuckled softly.
‘I’ve served under seven legion commanders, Legatus, and I have to say you’re a first. With the greatest of respect, of course.’
Vespasianus snorted his own cynical amusement.
‘If that’s your way of telling me that you’re not sure whether to laugh with me or at me, you’d probably better hurry up and make a decision on the matter, hadn’t you, Julius? Because we all might very well be cracking jokes in the Underworld before we know it.’
A messenger stepped into the circle of torchlight that illuminated the headquarters, the light concealed from the enemy by heavy leather tent skins erected on spears to form a protective semi-circle around the squatting men who were its occupants, saluting punctiliously and holding out a message tablet.
‘A dispatch from the senior medicus, Legatus.’
Vespasianus took it from his hand, snapping apart the wax seal that held the tablet closed, a reckoning of the casualties that had been evacuated from the tenuous bridgehead’s line of battle to the improvised medical station on the river’s eastern bank.
‘Now there’s one of the very few men in the legion who’ll have slept less than us since we crossed the river. Let’s see what he has to say …’ He turned the tablet to the torch’s flickering light, holding it out at arm’s length. ‘Bugger these eyes …’ He squinted again, shifting to position the tablet better to catch the light. ‘I suppose I ought to thank the gods that my manhood hasn’t gone the same way as my eyesight. The senior medicus informs me that we have five hundred and six men dead or likely to die, and another two hundred and thirty-three treatable wounded.’
The first spear shook his head in disgust.
‘In battle with any other people I’d have expected the numbers of dead and wounded to have been the other way around, but these madmen will throw their lives away to allow one of their mates to put a spear into one of ours. So we’ve lost the best part of two cohorts with nothing much to show for it apart from a few hundred paces of riverbank. And I thought these people were supposed to be ripe for conquering? Nothing better than underfed peasants, and no threat to Roman discipline and aggression?’
The legatus snorted derision.
‘Oh, they’re no threat alright, if you’re a wealthy senator with a fortune invested in invasion ships and several legions between you and the “underfed peasants” in question. They may be ignorant, stinking barbarians, fit only to die on our swords, but by Jupiter’s hairy balls they’re brave.’
His senior centurion sighed.
‘And even if every man in the legion has killed five of the bastards there are still another hundred thousand of them waiting for their turn. I’d say you learned gentlemen have bitten off more than you can get in your mouths.’
Vespasianus laughed without any trace of his usual good humour.
‘You can cross me off that list. I class as the hired help in this particular enterprise, just a humble servant of the emperor’s imperial ambition … that, and the senate’s collective purses.’ He shook his head in dark amusement. ‘I remember only too well the briefings to which you’re referring, all confidence and encouragement, and by the gods I’d like to have had those smooth-faced men for company when the Britons came storming down the hill at us as we waded out of the river. I thought for a moment we were about to get pushed straight back into the water. It’s a bloody good thing young Geta’s Batavians managed to deal with their chariots before we came across the ford, or we’d have had a face full of their best and nastiest swordsmen too, and that might have been all it would have taken to stop us dead, with most of the legion still on the other bank. Even without their intervention you can be sure I’ll be awarding every centurion who survives this horrible mess their torques and phalerae after the battle. If, that is, any of us actually manage to survive this horrible mess!’
‘Like all the best plans, gentlemen, my intentions for this morning’s actions are simple and direct.’
Legatus Hosidius Geta looked around his senior centurions, his usual pugnacity clearly combined with the frustration of having watched the men on the far side of the river struggle to make any headway against their tribal opponents for most of the previous day.
‘Without wanting to go over the events of yesterday at any great length, since we all saw what happened, we must nevertheless be honest with ourselves. We failed, gentlemen. And by we, for avoidance of doubt, I do not mean my colleague Vespasianus and the men of his Second Augustan. The gods know they fought like men possessed in the teeth of overwhelming enemy strength. No, we failed. We sat and watched while the Second fought their way into the very teeth of the barbarian counter-attack. We waited for Vespasianus to cut out a bridgehead into which our men could advance, while all the time it was evident to anyone with eyes to see that it simply wasn’t going to happen. The Second were never likely to prove strong enough to push these Britons far enough off their ground to allow for an orderly leap-frog advance by the rest of the army, not on their own. Every time we thought our brothers-in-arms were making some progress another wave of wild-eyed maniacs washed down that slope and pushed them back on their heels, which means that the bridgehead is barely big enough to give us the room we’ll need to cross the river and pass through them to take up the fight. And, may my ancestors forgive me, by the time it was clear to me what needed to be done it was deemed too late in the day for an alternative line of attack to be launched.’
He shot a swift glance at Vespasianus’s brother Sabinus, who was standing to one side as the army commander’s representative at the orders conference, knowing that his role was to ensure Geta stuck to the script that had been agreed in the army commander’s tent the previous evening.
‘And so last night Legatus Sabinus and I rode back to consult with Legatus Augusti Plautius, and presented our proposal for what needs to happen this morning, at first light, if our comrades of the Second Legion are not to be thrown back across the Medui in disarray. I’m delighted to be able to tell you that he agreed with us, and has given us permission to carry out an attack from first light. We’re going to cross the river and pass through the Second Legion, march straight up the hill through their bridgehead and attack the Britons with the advantage of being fresh into the fight. And if I know Titus Flavius Vespasianus as well as I think I do, he’ll know what to do when our men take over the fight …’
He paused theatrically, drawing a small smile from Sabinus who, while he tried to hide it from his comrades, was both charmed and slightly amused by the younger man’s fire-eating attitude to whatever life threw at him. Geta turned to gesture for him to speak, as they had agreed, and the older Flavian brother stepped out of the tent’s shadows.
‘My brother Titus will attack on either flank. He’ll muster his legionaries to make one last titanic effort and, combined with the fresh men of your legion, a legion with a peerless reputation for bravery in battle, the attack the Britons must intend to send down that hill this morning will be pinched off before it can be launched. Your time has come, gentlemen of the Fourteenth …’ He paused with equal theatricality to Geta and flashed the younger man a quick grin. ‘Or should I perhaps call you by the name you prefer – “The Fighting Fourteenth”? Whichever, now is your time to shine once more, and show these barbarians that we can wipe them from the map before we’ve even taken our breakfast!’
