Jace sprinted to him, and they marched to the head of the formation together. Turning to the light infantrymen, Jace broke the silence.

  “You didn’t see it, but I just saw a signal flag from the woods,” Jace explained to the ranks of Velites. “We’ve been idling here until other Centuries got into position.”

  Grumbling accompanied the announcement. Most infantrymen, when doing unpleasant duty, assumed other Centuries had it easier. Probably eating honey cakes, drinking sweet wine, and swimming in the river all morning while the Wings maniple sweated in the sun.

  “I don’t blame you,” Jace admitted. “But the wait is over. We’re running across this field, climbing that slope, and cutting through the skirmishers like a skinning knife through a rabbit pelt.”

  When Jace drew his gladius, First Centurion Turibas and five veteran Legionaries ran to him.

  “Colonel, your place is with the command staff,” Turibas reminded Jace.

  “When was the last time, First Centurion, you got your blade wet?”

  “Not since New Carthage, sir.”

  “Me neither,” Jace confirmed. Then from the side of his mouth he ordered. “Standard bearer, forward Wings Legion.”

  Usico stripped the tie off the banner and allowed the material to unroll.

  “Wings Legion,” he bellowed while waving the standard overhead.

  “Wings Legion,” the Velites replied.

  “Forward.”

  ***

  Lulled into a false sense of confidence, the Carthaginian skirmishers found other things to occupy themselves. Sharpening blades, taking naps, playing games of chance, they participated in anything except watching the men standing in the valley.

  “They are moving,” a skirmisher alerted his squad.

  “Really, after wasting all morning?” another mentioned.

  Then a Sergeant noticed the nine hundred Velites in full stride. That was a concern. But a bigger worry were the two officers, five veteran infantrymen, and their Standard Bearer who had already started up the slope.

  “Spearmen, defend the hill,” the Sergeant yelled. But it was too late.

  The skirmishers job consisted of sprinting at an enemy formation. Throwing spears into the forward rank, doing melee with skirmishers from the other side, then running back behind their infantry. To complete their task, they wore light animal fur instead of armor. Carried knives rather than swords. And used small shields if any at all. On a battlefield, compared to both light and heavy infantrymen, skirmishers might as well be naked.

  Battle Commander Kasia’s words about skinning knives and pelts proved too real for the Carthaginian skirmishers. Jace and his forward element reached the first tier and began butchering the slower Iberians.

  Slashing viciously to both sides, Jace left wounded and dead skirmishers in his wake. Not slowing, he raced for the foot of the next slope. In the chaos, he found himself in a herd of running Iberians. With the red horsehair crest on his helmet, marking him as a Legion officer, he should have been stabbed in the back and sides multiple times.

  The Fates often delivered surprising paradoxes in battle. In the case of Colonel Kasia, the comb on his helmet drew spears from the second tier. While none struck him, the presence of steel tips and shafts raining down around him drove the Skirmishers away from the Legion officer. Putting them out of stabbing range and allowing Jace to run free and dodge the thrown spears.

  Using the footspeed of a Cretan Archer placed Jace far ahead of his maniple. And while he wanted to get up the slope and lessen the crowding on that level, he realized he couldn’t do it on his own. Turning right, he cut into a line of fleeing skirmishers. And while he fended off knives, at least, the spears stopped falling from above.

  “Are you touched?” Turibas ranted, while shoving a bloody shield into Jace’s hand. Then, he added. “If you’re going to act like an infantryman and not an officer, carry a shield.”

  “Who did this belong to?” Jace inquired as he strapped the light infantry shield to his arm.

  “He held his shield too low and ate a spear,” First Centurion Turibas replied. “Don’t make the same mistake, sir.”

  With the five Legionary shields of the veterans protecting him from spears and his light infantry shield held overhead, Jace took stock of the status of his infantrymen. Some were down, most wounded by quickly thrown shafts from expert spearmen. The rest were dead from the same weapon. In the middle of the line and driving the final bunch of skirmishers from the first tier, Centurion Usico waved the standard.

  “Seeing as I have a shield,” Jace instructed the First Centurion, “put three shields on the standard. No matter what happens at the top, I want the Wings banner to survive for the rest of the Legion.”

  “Consider it done,” Turibas swore. He used his bloody gladius to direct three veterans over to care for Usico and the standard. “I don’t suppose, Battle Commander Kasia, that I can talk you into returning to the command staff.”

  “Not a chance, First Centurion,” Jace replied to him while adjusting the straps on the borrowed shield.

  “In that case, Colonel Kasia, there’s only one thing left to do.”

  “Get to the next tier and inflict pain and terror on the Carthaginian spearmen,” Jace stated. The Standard Bearer reached their position just as Kasia announced. “I’m going to the top. Anyone care to join me?”

  Centurion Usico belted out a hardy, “To the top, sir. Rah.”

  The moving line of Velites roared, “To the top. Rah.”

  “Usico, forward the Legion,” Jace ordered as he pushed through the screen of shields.

  Colonel Kasia and his pair of veterans started up the slope.

  Behind them, the orders were delivered, “Wings Legion, forward.”

  ***

  Under the canopy beneath the first tier, Colonel Laelius caught sight of the movement. The flag flashed the signal again to be sure he saw it.

  “We don’t stop. We break heads and crush dreams all the way to the top,” he instructed. “Centurion Digitius, free our banner and display the Eagle. Senior Tribune, pass the word to forward the Legion.”

  “Eagle Legion forward,” the Standard Bearer and the Senior Tribune bellowed.

  Responding to the order, almost three thousand heavy infantrymen pushed out from under leaves, shook foliage from their shields, and leveled their spears. Behind Eagle, Legionaries from War Chariot Legion emerged from concealment and started forward.

  In ten steps, the first of Eagle’s infantrymen materialized from the trees. Prepared to absorb spears with their shields, they moved timidly. But to their relief, the Carthaginians, three tiers up, didn’t respond.

  ***

  Slightly ahead of the right flank, and behind Wings Legion in the center, Cornelius Scipio stepped off with the first maniple from Golden Cat Legion.

  “Sir, we can’t protect you up here,” the Centurion of First Century cautioned. “Please fall back to the command staff. General, please.”

  “None of this should be possible,” Cornelius declared as he continued to shuffle forward. “Not the Legions secretly in positions before daybreak. Not an enemy this close but unaware. Not me, and not six Legions of the finest infantrymen in the world, under my command.”

  Fearing the General had lost his mind, the Centurion considered physically restraining him. Prorogatio of Iberia or not, for his own good, General Scipio needed to be pulled back.

  But the three ranks of Legionaries on either side of Cornelius responded to his speech. They closed ranks around Scipio, protecting their General, as they roared, Rah.

  The veteran combat officer knew he would have to battle his own first maniple if he dared touch the General. Signaling his squads, they moved forward and out of the trees with the attack line.

  Just as with Eagle Legion on the right flank, Golden Cat climbed the first tier unmolested by thrown spears. Something was drawing the attention of Hasdrubal Barca’s army away from the flanks. The diversion and the easy assault, unfortunately, wouldn’t last.

  Chapter 24 – Please Goddess Até

  The grade of the slope required high stepping. Plus, each stride towards the second tier carried Jace Kasia closer to a line of shields held by Carthaginian spearmen. And while the giant steps helped him dodge spears and catch arrows in his shield, the pace was far from favorable for attacking uphill into the shield wall.

  “This is going to get ugly,” he remarked to the Legionary beside him.

  “At least they’re entertained,” the veteran sneered.

  Worried about breaking through the wall, Jace hadn’t considered the presence of spectators. Yet, high above, Carthaginian heavy infantrymen crowded forward to the edge of the cliff. It appeared as if they were seeking a better view of a sporting event.

  “This could be the biggest mistake of my career,” Jace ventured before ordering his bodyguards. “Stay with me. I need to speak with Centurion Usico.”

  Fifteen feet on level ground was an easy trot, but not while navigating a steep slope and evading projectiles.

  When Jace reached the Standard Bearer, Usico looked puzzled.

  “In training, a target is pulled by a chariot across our front. It helps our Velites improve their javelin throws,” Usico advised. His eyes shifted to where Jace had been and back to the Battle Commander. “Sir, are you trying to improve the Carthaginian’s aim?”

  The comment might have been viewed as lighthearted if not for two reasons. Usico wasn’t known for his levity. And the presence of the red comb on the Colonel’s helmet, and the Legion’s banner at the same location, drew salvos of spears and arrows.

  “I want you to fall back to the base of the hill,” Jace instructed. “Use our rear ranks to form a defensive line. But make it look chaotic.”

  “What are we doing, Colonel?” the Standard Bearer inquired.

  “We’re trying to entertain their heavies while pulling their spearmen off the hill.”

  “Is this a fight or a show?” Usico demanded.

  A spear arched across the sky, dipped overhead, and fell, directly at the Standard Bearer. Jace swung his shield up, caught the spear tip with the face of the shield, and deflected the steel point. Flipping horizontal, the shaft bounced off Usico’s helmet.

  In combat, a man who saved your life got the benefit of instant trust. Without further debate, Usico questioned, “Chaotic, you said, Colonel?”

  “We need to hold the attention of the spectators, so the messier, the better,” Jace confirmed. “But, when we retreat, I need your line to hold until we get organized.”

  “Yes, sir,” Usico stated.

  Stumbling sideways with his head wobbling, the Standard Bearer angled downhill and away from the attack element.

  “Find me Senior Centurion Ceradin,” Jace ordered his bodyguards.

  ***

  After a quick consultation with the Senior Centurion, Jace rushed uphill behind the leading edge of Velites.

  “Forward. Forward,” he ordered. “Break their line. Break it.”

  Spears dueled, and a few shields clashed when brave men dodged their way into the forest of shafts. But none of Wings Legion came close to breaching the enemy’s line.

  From high above, a roar of approval encouraged the defenders. And to the delight of the Carthaginian army, the attack stalled. Then a few Velites stepped back and began moving downhill. In moments, a few more retreated. The breaking of the Legion attack caused the onlookers to scream louder. Just as if they were spectators at the Forum on race day.

  Colonel Kasia screamed at his men. His helmet bucked back and forth with each yell, making the red horsehair comb wave in the air. It attracted the enemy’s attention. Raising his arms, Jace shook the shield and his gladius at the fleeing men. Despite his antics, none paid attention to their Battle Commander. However, the heavy infantrymen on the upper level were delighted as the last Velites raced away.

  ***

  For an eternity, Jace Kasia and two Legionaries stood alone on the slope. Bellows from on high encouraged the spearmen to break formation, run down, and kill the lightly defended Battle Commander.

  “Sir, we really should go,” one Legionary pleaded with Jace.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “Hold. Hold.”

  Several spearmen jumped forward but were pulled back by their officers. The movement brought the audience on top of the hill to a fevered pitch. It might have been the shouting from behind, their confidence after repelling the Legion light infantry, or the sight of the enemy commander exposed and vulnerable. In any case, as if it was a brick wall crumbling during an earthquake, the Carthaginian shield wall dissolved.

  “Sir, they are coming for you,” a Legionary warned.

  “For us,” Jace corrected. “Run. Now.”

  Jace in his war armor, his two bodyguards in their heavy infantry armor and big shields, would have difficulty sprinting uphill. Downhill, the weight and physical conditioning gave them the velocity of a rolling stone.

  “Please Goddess Até,” Jace shouted, “just a few more feet.”

  Although unfamiliar with Greek Goddesses, the Republic Legionaries echoed their Battle Commander.

  “Please Goddess Até, just a few more feet.”

  ***

  Jace and the two Legionaries raced between the line of shields, lost their footing from too much momentum, and crashed to the ground.

  “Here they come,” Ceradin shouted. “Brace. Brace. Brace.”

  The commands of the Senior Centurion were picked up by his Legion combat officers. Up and down the defensive line, the Velites tucked shoulders in behind shields, dug their rear feet into the soil, and hardened their stance.

  A hand reached down, gripped Jace’s wrist, and helped him off the ground.

  “You got them off the hill, sir,” First Centurion Turibas remarked.

  “What about our audience?” Jace asked.

  Although the curses were muffled by distance, the gestures accompanying the sentiments relayed the feelings of the Carthaginian heavy infantry.

  “I’d say disappointed describes them best, Colonel,” Turibas answered.

  In a reversal of fortune, the Carthaginian spearmen found themselves attacking a shield wall. Behind the Wings’ assault line, the third rank prepared to throw a flight of javelins.

  The pair of Legionaries who waited with Jace inquired, “Sir, who is the Goddess Até. And why did we pray to her for a few more feet?”

  “Até is the Greek Goddess of mischief, ruin, and folly,” Jace informed them. “I figured I was worshiping her with my plan. The least I could do was ask her for help in not getting a spear in the back as we ran down the hill.”

  “We’ll sacrifice to her when this is over,” they promised.

  Jace glanced at the top of the plateau. The cliff top was empty. The heavy infantrymen gone, no doubt to defend against the Legionaries attacking from the flanks.

  “I’ll join you in the sacrifice,” Jace told the Legionaries. “For now, let’s get into this fight.”

  ***

  On the right side of the plateau, Standard Bearer Sextus Digitius and the assault line climbed to the first level. A spear, thrown from above, impacted the ground in front of the Centurion’s hobnailed boot. Instead of circling the shaft, Digitius kicked it out of his way.

  “We are Eagle Legion,” he shouted while waving the Legion’s banner. “We laugh at danger. We shrug off arrowheads. We rise to every challenge. And we have only scorn for their shields and spears. Rah!”

  “Rah,” the Legionaries near him answered.

  “We laugh at danger,” Digitius chanted.

  Spears, arrows, and stones struck shields held overhead. The Legionaries felt all three differently. They stumbled from the heavy shafts while flinching at each rap when an arrowhead embedded itself in their shields. But the stones, they ignored. A few spears deflected from the shields and pierced the flesh of neighbors. And several arrows slipped between the barriers, burying their arrowheads in arms, legs, or feet. The stones simply bounced off.

  “We laugh at danger,” the Legionaries on the assault line answered.

  Legionaries in the second rank shifted forward and filled in empty spots to maintain the integrity of the attack line.

  “We shrug off arrowheads,” the Standard Bearer proclaimed.

  The ground grew steeper, and the projectiles transitioned from falling downward, to hugging the grade. Now, the spears, arrows, and stones from slingers came directly at the faces of the Legionaries.

  “We shrug off arrowheads,” the Legion infantrymen repeated.

  The sounds of the impacts on the shields grew louder. And almost as if planks left out at the start of a rainstorm, the missile noises went from tap, tap, tap, to a continuous, repetitive thunder.

  To be heard over the storm of incoming steel tips and stones, Standard Bearer Digitius roared, “We rise to every challenge.”

  At segments of the assault line, facing powerful spearmen or accurate slingers, bleeding Legionaries dropped to their knees. Scooting around their wounded comrades, other Legionaries moved ahead to fill in the gaps.

  Relentlessly, the forward element of Eagle Legion continued up the slope.

  And despite the hail of shafts and rocks, they sang out, “We rise to every challenge.”

  As they approached the top of the hill, the Standard Bearer exclaimed, “We have only scorn for their shields and spears.”

  Six paces from the crest, the onslaught of shafts and stones ended. Carthaginian shields appeared in the holes used by the archers, slingers, and spear throwers.

  In the face of a solid shield wall, the Legionaries echoed, “We have only scorn for their shields and spears.”

  Standard Bearer Sextus Digitius finished his chant by hollering, “We are Eagle Legion, halt.”

  “Eagle Legion, halt,” the Legionaries replied.

  ***

  Just out of range from a jab with a spear, the assault line waited for instructions. Several feet separated the shields and men could see the eyes of their adversaries. But, where the trained Legion ranks stood stoically, the ranks of Carthaginian mercenaries yelled to keep up their courage and to hide nerves.