The Will of the Senate - Battle reports

[shifty157]

My Consul Lucius,

I write to you now by the light of my candle as I sit within my tent and look out upon the river. The stench of blood is still strong and the moonlight sparkles over the dulling swords and shields and spears and helms that litter the pass. We have abandoned the western shore as it is too dangerous. The Gauls are known for their tricks and ambushes and I would not risk an envelopement of my forces during the third watch. But I digress as I write to you to tell you of the battle and what occured.

The Gauls arrived on the western shore early before noon. My scouts had reported their movement and I knew that two forces were converging here, the single ford on the length of this river which you have tasked me to protect and defend at all costs to keep our new lands in italy safe and unmolested by the ravages of war and Gauls.

Indeed, the men had a splendid time when we arrived. Having marched through the night immediatly following the sacking of the town of Massilia without rest we arrived at the ford and then men bathed and swam in its waters. We had arrived a week ago.

I suspected the Gauls to rest for the upon their arrival as I was very surprised. I had not expected them until the evening or the next morning but it seems they forcemarched through the night to reach the ford. Whether or not they knew of the defenses of the third legion I know not but seeing as they marched hurriedly and without rest for well over a day I assumed them to set up camp until the evening or next morning when they would launch the attack. I was mistaken however and it seems completely defying human stamina after an hour or so of preparation they formed ranks for their attack.

I quickly called my men, a much smaller force by several times, and they formed ranks as I had instructed them to upon our arrival. My triarii, my rock, I placed in my center with my principes on the right flank and my hastati on the left. Being that the shield is carried on the left arm it is clear that a man will charge to his left before he will charge to his right so that he may have the full protection of his shield. For this reason I placed the principes on the right flank because I knew they were more capable to handle the additional men than were the hastati. These men I placed directly on the shore as I would not concede an inch of the eastern side unfought. Directly behind them I placed my skirmishers and I placed my funditores on the left flank. As cavalry has little role in such confined areas I stayed behind along with my good friend, the brave Luca, and the remainder of the cavalry.



These preparations made the Gauls wasted no time in cahrging into the water. Only after they had reached the eastern shore did I order the skirmishers to begin their fire along with the hastati and principes. Hails of javelins rained down upon the charging Gauls but soon I realised that the Gaulish general had sent in the inexperienced fresh recruits first to bear the brunt of my missile fire and our swords. Regardless, as the bulk of the enemy host entered the waters I commanded my funditores to begin their fire and they proceeded with a certain relish to hurl their stones into the midst of the gathered and waiting enemy. So many Gauls were killed in the river by the funditores and the skirmishers that a veritable bridge of stones and bodies formed across the river allowing a man to cross without ever touching water.

For a time we held the horde contained in the small box of shields which my men constituted but soon small gaps began to appear at the joints in the formation and seeing this I ordered the skirmishers (their javelins expended) to hurry and seal them before they grew any worse. Unable to join the battle, I and Luca rode the battle lines and encouraged our forces and they fought the fiercer for it.

It was at this moment that I spotted the Gaulish general moving swiftly with his cavalry escort to the front line. He personally charged the ranks of triarii which up to this point had remained intact and undaunted. He charged with his escort, throwing their ranks into disarray and laying low men on all his sides but his foolish charge into the spearpoints of the triarii quickly took its toll and his escort was quickly reduced to only a few men. Sensing the complete collapse of the line under the weight I personally charged with my own escort through the ranks of triarii and pushed back the enemy horde along with its commander. The triarii knew such a tactic could not hold the enemy at bay for long and quickly readdressed their ranks and prepared to accept the charge of Gauls. With a signal of their readiness I and my escort withdrew from the battle and as the Gauls fell back on the triarii. Quickly questioning my men I found that none had slain the enemy general but they had accounted for all of his elite escort. Perhaps not realising he was without an escort, the Gaulish general again charged the triarii line and again broke it but this time, alone, he quickly found himself surrounded and cut down.

Word of his death spread quickly and the Gauls fled the field of battle back into the river. Calling forth my cavalry, I and Luca side by side and eager to account for some kills of our own, we charged through the infantry line after them into the river. Immediatly before I gave strict orders that no infantryman should break rank and pursue as well and this was egnerally followed until to my horror I realized it had not in only one instance later.

Riding over the bridge of corpses our cavalry had reached the opposite shore before we realized that the rout had been a trick by the clever Gauls. Unable to distinguish between the enemy fleeing and the enemy standing firm our cavalry unexpectedly met stiff resistence. After a few minutes of feverish fighting I realized that this enemy was not quite so ready to flee and so I retreated to the riverbank when suddenly from behind me charged my funditores. I can only guess as to what brought them to charge across the ford against my orders. Perhaps it was because I had purposely kept them from battle and now they wished to use their swords. I cannot say but they had passed me before I could call them back and those that could perhaps hear me ignored me. They almost instantly enveloped in the Gaulish mob and I lost sight of them completely. Knowing their tactical importance to the defense of the ford I called for all my infantry to cross the river and engage with all haste and this they began to do but time was against me. The funditores could not survive long surrounded by Gauls eager to enact revenge. I again personally charged the Gaulish mob with my escort in the hopes of breaking the line to reach the funditores. I got withing sight of them but the Gaulish line held and I was repulsed. By the time my infantry led by the principes charged the Gaulish lines the few funditores left were fighting to the death. The Gauls only began to flee after every last of the sixty funditores was slain.

Enraged I called all the cavalry to me and we rode hard after the Gauls who fled. Passing the mound of dead funditores where those last men fell upon eachother and fought literally upon their fallen comrades I let up a cry that was echoed by even the horses and we rode all the harder.

The Gauls it seems, having seen how well their trick worked the first time, attempt to pull the same trick again and rallied and assembled to charge us. My cavalry broke upon them and swept them ahead of us in our steel furry and none of those men were left alive. We ran our horses raw the rest of the day hunting down any of those Gauls who managed to escape the field alive.

Tomorrow we shall bury our dead and burn theirs but tonight the men rejoice the victory and those brave men who have fallen. I rejoice with them.

I have heard a rather humorous and pleasing story from a few of the scouts who I dispatched immediatly after the battle. Infiltrating several Gaulish settlements those witnesses of the battle have begun to spread stories and rumors about the third legion and myself in particular. It is true that I allowed the heat of battle overtake me at times but some of the stories they whisper are simply absurd. One in particular states that I rode out and met the fornt ranks of the Gauls in the middle of the river and there fought and slew men as I was surrounded. The rumor claims my horse stood perfectly still for the length of the battle as I fought men on all sides until my infantry line could push back the Gauls to meet my position. I laughed heartily when I heard this.



I have compiled the relevent lists of men and casualties. It seems that I and my escort personally accounted for over 400 enemy dead. Luca showed his bravery many times and he has given me the figure of about 100 enemies slain by his hand though I believe this figure to be excessively modest on his part. I personally saw him slay more men than he claims.

The sixty funditores cut down accounted for nearly half of all of our casualties.





Your faithful commander,

Publius Laevinius

[econ21]

A short account of the battle of Aleria, 271 BC

The battle for Aleria was not particularly dramatic but it is the largest battle yet fought by the Republic. It also serves as an illustration of how a large army defending an unwalled settlement can be defeated in detail without great loss.



The two sides are evenly matched.


Stage 1: Defending elements attack precipitously

Due to the size of the defending army, it could not all be deployed in the centre of the town. Some defenders on the outskirts of the settlement impetuously advance to meet the attackers. They suffer heavily to the Roman funditores and velites. Massively outnumbered, they are easily broken.



A unit of 120 Liby-Phoenician spearmen have been reduced to a mere 23 men before a Centurion of the hastati leads his men in a flank charge.



The hastati move on to neutralise the threat from the lone Carthaginian cavalry unit. The four enemy Generals and their escorts remain safely in the forum for now.

The defenders lack a solid battle line and come on piecemeal, allowing them to be easily defeated.



Quintus leads his escort into a charge against another unit of Liby-Phoenician spearmen. In the distance, Poeni infantry can be seen trying to intercept, but the slowness of their phalanx formation is fatal in this open stage of the battle.


Stage 2: The defenders emerge from the side streets.

Quintus then divides his army into four - each arm a legion or alae - aiming to approach the town forum from each side. However, the defenders move out of the city centre to challenge the attackers approaching from the front and the right flank. Now there is less room for manoeuvre, but by letting the defenders leave the sidestreets, the Romans are able to surround them and slowly destroy them in hard fighting.



The height of the battle on the right of the town. Three large Carthaginian infantry units are slowly enveloped and destroyed by a legion and an alae.


Stage 3: The battle for the town forum

By now, the Carthaginians are left with only a last unit of spearmen and their four generals. The Romans approach the forum from three sides - the centre, the left and, belatedly, the right. As the left alae advance, the Sacred Band escorts of the generals launch a combined charge.



The Carthaginian heir and his three relatives launch a charge on the Romans approaching Aleria’s central forum. The Italian spearmen are caught off balance, trying to redress their ranks.

The remaining Carthaginian spear unit is lured off the town forum, pinned by Roman infantry approaching from the centre. Triari and other troops race to hit the Scared Band cavalry in the rear.



The end approaches - all the Carthaginian units now lack the morale advantages of being in the central forum.

Belatedly, the Roman right wing approachs to occupy the uncontested town forum. The battle is soon over.



The last Carthaginian soldier in Aleria - a general - dies bravely duelling the indomitable hastati Centurion. After the battle, Quintus will choose this veteran to join his staff as an valuable ancillary.

The presence of Roman surgeons lowers the figure for Roman dead, but the losses still appear modest given some of the fierce infantry fights in the centre and right of the town.



The final tally

Note that for some reason, Quintus’s escort remains fighting despite all their enemies being dead. In fact the unit had become totally unresponsive ever since its rear charge described above.

[econ21]

A list of battles in the reign of First Consul Augustus Verginius (aka TinCow), 270 BC - 265 BC


Roman Casualties: 1463

Gallic Casualties: 9126
Greek Casualties: 5108
Rebel Casualties: 971

Total Enemy Casualties: 15,205

v=clear victory
hv=heroic victory
hd=in-game victory (timer), but historical defeat

[econ21]

The Diary of Quintus

Summer, 267 AD

609 men

So, we are in. I have only recently come to realise what a sharp operator that Verginius is. Not only does he play Senators - and indeed the whole Senate - for fools, he has an uncanny way with assassins and spies. I feel uneasy in this place, with his agents lurking in dark places. But for now, they have served me well. The gates were ready opened for us when we arrived.

Half the Greek garrison were camped in the fields outside the settlement, so I had to choose whether to fight them as well as those inside. Instead, I decided to sneak my army past in the night and slip into Apollonia undetected. Once through the gates, my men made short work of the few defenders.



A gladius to the back - always reliable.

When the settlement was taken, I ordered my small army back out of the gates and we silently march under the moonlight to where the Greeks had made camp in the fields. The surprise was complete and hastily arraigned Greek hoplites did not have time to withdraw. We used our missiles to infuriate them and then I drew one unit out of line in pursuit of my escort, before swinging back to hit the rear of their brothers.



A lance to the back - even better.

We returned quickly to the settlement. My army has been blooded and the experience of battle is starting to make the men more confident. But the reports of the locals identify large Greek forces in nearby Thermon and Scodra. Surely it is only a matter of time before they mobilise to confront us?



Quintus enters a hornets' nest

How many seasons until help arrives? Let us call this:

Season 1.

588 men


Autumn, 267


...Quintus wanders round the gardens of the Provincial Palace in Apollonia. He stumbles and falls. A man from the shadows runs up to him and grabs him roughly. The ex-Consul's body is still and lifeless.

"Not yet you don't!" The shadowy figure raises his fist and crashes it down on Quintus's chest. Quintus coughs and starts. "Chirurgeon!" the unknown figure calls out loudly, before gently placing the old man on the grass and disappearing back into the undergrowth...


I don't know who will kill me first - the Greeks or my frail heart. At least it seems unlikely to be one of Verginius's agents, for now anyway. The incident in the gardens seems to prove that.

As for the Greeks, I am starting to doubt if they are serious or not. For their first expedition to retake Apollonia, they sent a brash young noble, Theras of Sparta, to besiege us. A mere boy of 18, lazy and careless. He came with only 454 men - less than my garrison - and proceeded to begin constructing fieldworks outside the town. The sheer gall of the boy! By the gods, I swear he was trying to bring me low by inducing another heart attack!

I waited patiently for the cover of darkness and then mustered our small army, leading them out of the gate at the double. Slowly, the Greek phalanxes turned and started to move off. I knew then that they would escape unless drastic action was taken. I led my escort in hot pursuit. I did not mean to engage the phalanxes themselves - I may be an old fool, but not so great a fool as to charge my escort into three steady phalanxes. Instead, I bypassed the hoplites and charged the peltasts accompanying them. My aim was to induce the phalanxes to halt so that my infantry could catch up with them.



Quintus's horse overtake the retreating phalanx and charge the peltasts

After I had run down the peltasts, the phalanxes stopped and turned to face my infantry who were puffing up the road from Apollonia. Two phalanxes charged our Italian spearmen. Our triarii was held back, to counter-strike at their rear after the Greeks were engaged. This went well until the third phalanx appeared out of the darkness and in turn charged the triarii in the back.



The crisis of the battle - hunters become the hunted.

Fortunately, our other infantry arrived in time to aid the brave triarii. Theras of Sparta himself died well, in a manner fitting of his proud city. He fought my escort single-handed for nearly as long as his hoplites engaged our infantry. His inevitable death demoralised the Greeks and brought to a swift end to the battle. If only young Theras's acumen had matched his courage. I wonder if his countrymen will seek to avenge their proud young general?

Season 2

582 men

to be continued

[econ21]

Winter, 267

595 men

The arrival of Pleminius has raised my spirits, although this is more because of the small reinforcement it provides than the conviviality of the fellow. He is an austere chap, not given to small talk. His pithy pronouncements of personal duty and honour are admirable, I suppose, but at my age, I find them hard to take. Does he not realise his job is not to die for his country, but rather to make the other fellows die for theirs? Still the man's sword arm is just as steely as his speech, so I welcome his presence. I have assigned my previous Military Tribune to Pleminius, so that the two can be accustomed to working together in the event that my heart should fail again. Overtime, I may assign more of my ancillaries to him, if he does not object, but for now, I need them under my control.

The Greeks came again. A tall red-cloaked Captain Diadumenus approached under a flag of truce. "I have come for the body of Theras" he solemnly declared, much in the manner of young Pleminius. Indeed, I saw Pleminius scrutinising the Spartan with scarcely concealed admiration. Of course, I gave the Captain Theras's coffin and told him his Prince had died well. The Captain thanked me but then said he could not leave until we have surrendered Apollonia. I shook my head, telling him to go back to his men and that the next time we met, one of us would fall.

Again I had no intention of letting an inferior force blockade us inside the town, so I marched the army out at night. The Captain pulled back his hoplites from the gate and at first, I thought he was going to exit the field without giving battle. A foolish thought. That is not the Spartan way.

Gingerly, I spread our men out into a U-shaped formation, hoping to work our skirmishers and cavalry around the flanks of the enemy hoplites.



As the Romans seek to envelope the Greeks, the hoplites advance in the centre.

I ordered our funditores to target the Spartans but they made little impression. Before the battle was half over, our slingers were out of lead and only two of the Spartans had been shot down. I knew the Spartan hoplites were our most dangerous foes and so ordered our own triarii to charge them. The two elite formations remained locked in combat for most of the battle.



The Spartans and the triarii face off together

By good fortune, we managed to surround and break one enemy phalanx on the right, so I ordered young Pleminus to hunt down the routers. The headstrong tribune pursued too impetuously and ran into another phalanx moving in support. He fought bravely, before my messenger reached him ordering him to pull out at once. If I should fall, whether in battle or due to infirmity, it is essential that Pleminius survive to take command.



Pleminius's pursuit of the routers nearly ends in disaster.

The critical phase of the battle was now reached. Our heavy infantry sought to encircle and defeat the phalanxes, while our skirmishers targeted the lightly armoured Spartans - although it must be said, not with any visibly greater success than the funditores had enjoyed.



The height of the battle. The Roman cavalry is kept out of the action until all the hoplites are committed.

When the time was right I signalled to Pleminius to charge the rear of one of the enemy phalanxes, while my escort brought up the rear in support. The shock of the charge was decisive, breaking the enemy's morale and causing a chain rout. Most of the Spartans already lay dead at the feet of the triarii but half a dozen fled. The lances of Pleminius's escort spared these individuals the indignity of returning to their city in disgrace.



This time, Pleminius's charge is unstoppable and decides the outcome of the battle.

After the battle, a shadowy figure approached me with a message from the First Consul. The enigmatic chap said that he had been assigned to watch over me and would accompany me with my escort from now on. I think I recall his thick rasping voice from my accident in the gardens. Somehow this heroic saviour makes me fear more for my life than the Greeks or my bad heart. But the news the agent brought from Verginius was most important.

Season 3.

573 men

[econ21]

Summer, 266

576 men

"Now it is time"

I awoke to the sound of a rasping voice whispered into my ear. Waking gradually, I looked around the room, but could see no one. Slowly, I rose.

A veteran centurion entered my quarters: "The enemy are deployed for battle, sir."

I nodded curtly. I found it hard to raise my eyes and my chest had an empty hollow sensation, more to do with the circumstances in which we found ourselves than my own frail constitution.

Seventeen hundred Greeks had arrived outside Apollonia. Seventeen hundred. Mainly hoplites and frankly quite superior to the still rather inexperienced men of Legio IV. They were commanded by a general called Kallinos of Gonni. I knew little of him, but the way he had deployed for the assault revealed him to be a fine general, easily my match. Five battering rams had been constructed and positioned at different points along the north wall. Each were backed by several other units of heavy infantry or missile troops. The general himself remained at the rear of his army, with his escort and two small troops of cavalry. While we could perhaps obstruct one or two rams, there were simply not enough of us to stop all five from breaching our walls.

Somewhere inside me I knew this was Verginius's work. Exactly how he had done it, what toils or tribulations he had gone through to pull it off, I did not know. But somehow his agents had conspired to move the Greeks to muster this large, fine army and march promptly for Apollonia. How else to explain the switch in Greek tactics from sending small armies to besiege us, to concentrating such a large force to crush us?

Why had the First Consul done this? Was it to punish me for staying his hand from eradicating the Gauls he hated so much? Or was it his revenge for my besmirching his honour in the Senate? Was it to provide a demonstration of the folly of Pleminius's motion to send a small army into the heart of the enemy's lands? Or to laugh at my own foolishness in mistakenly voting for the motion? Or was it to provide a high drama for the Senate, so that Verginius could come charging in at the end of his period in office and rescue our beleaguered force with the Consular Army? I do not know. Could you ever know with a man such as Verginius?

Pleminius came to see me as Legio IV took up position. I smiled sadly at him, but he just stared back, his face nonchalant and fixed with a sense of duty. While I wished to be anywhere but here today, this - the chance of glorious battle - was why Pleminius came to Apollonia. I patted him affectionately on his shoulder, as a master might reward an alert and eager guard dog. Then I explained my plan of battle.

Our only advantage over the Greeks lay in our cavalry - the men of my escort and Pleminus's own bodyguard of equites. Sadly, this force would be next to useless in the narrow confines of Apollonia's streets. We could not charge and the massed hoplites would cut us down easily with their spears. Therefore, we had to sally out of the city even as the enemy marched their battering rams towards us. But Kallinos was no fool, he would not halt his assault to fight outside the town. While we might distract some of his men from assailing the town's pallisades, others would still batter their way through. There were four entrances to the town's central forum. I could only afford to post guards on two - the triarii were assigned to guard the north entrance; while the Italian spearmen covered the east, where the enemy battering rams were disporportionately deployed. All the other infantry were to join the cavalry in sallying out of the town gate.

Pleminius nodded eagerly when he heard the plan. Clearly its boldness appealed to him.

"Who do we charge first?" he asked.

"We begin the battle with decapitation. My men will make for Kallinos. You will cover my back in case his other cavalry try to interfere."

A faint trace of a smile passed over Pleminius's pursed lips. Apparently this brutal opening gambit appealed to him even more than the idea of a sally had.



The battlelines are drawn: as the Greeks prepare five assault columns, the Romans prepare to charge out of the north gate, with their spearmen left behind to guard the central forum.

As the five Greek battering rams began shambling forward towards Apollonia's pallisades, I led our men out of the north gate, all moving at the run. We had little time to deploy outside the walls before the many Greek phalanxes pinned us to them. Face to face, even the best Roman infantry had little advantage over hoplites. Our only chance was to flank them. Unfortunately, that called for numerical superiority, something which would be hard - if not impossible - to achieve that day.



The first action of the day - Pleminius (on the near left) and Quintus (centre) together ride for General Kallinos, hoping to render the Greek army leaderless and demoralised.

The ride to reach Kallinos seemed like an eternity. We bypassed the many phalanxes marching towards Apollonia, and the peltasts and Cretan archers deployed behind them in support. Finally, we reached the Greek cavalry, who bravely interposed themselves between us and their general, allowing Kallinos to counter-charge with his superb hetaroi. The fighting was brutal, but the outcome inevitable. Every second we were delayed, however, left our infantry leaderless outside the north gate and left the Greek battering rams elsewhere free to smash down the pallisades without interference.



The first Greek battering ram, on the far east of the northern pallisade, breaks through.

Eventually, General Kallinos was cut down and I urged our horse to return to the north gate to assist our infantry. When we arrived, we found the sallying force had suffered such heavy casualties, it was scarcely functional. In my absence, Greek peltasts and Cretan archers had poured fire into our brave infantry as they struggled to overcome the enemy phalanxes near the gate. Pleminius and I avenged the fallen without mercy, but it was too late. Four parts of the pallisade had been breached and at least eight enemy phalanxes were inside, racing to the central forum.



The Roman cavalry return to allow the Romans to triumph near the north gate. But it has become irrelevant: the walls have been breached in force to the east.

It was now up the spearmen to hold; to hold against quite insurmountable odds. They fought magnificently. I ordered Pleminius to take his escort and the cohort of Italian swordsmen and hunt down any routing Greeks. I hurried the remnants of our sallying force back to the forum. A phalanx of pikemen attempted to intercept us but it fell out of formation as it tried to catch my escort while my infantry harried it from the rear. When it finally turned to face our infantry, it was so disordered, the Greeks had thrown down their sarissas. I seized the moment and charged it in the rear, breaking it within seconds. If only the hoplites with their shorter spears could be so easily disposed of, I thought ruefully.

Our sallying force was now safely back within the pallisade. But the battle had shifted to the central forum and we had to get there quickly. The northern approach was blocked by at least four Greek phalanxes, so I directed only our funditores to take that path. They could fire into the rear of the massed Greeks and perhaps even induce some of them to break off and pursue the skirmishers.

"What do we do when our lead runs out, sir?" the small funditore captain asked me.

I could only shake my head sadly. The captain saluted and turned to lead his men, already at half strength.

Three phalanxes were trying to force the eastern approach to the forum, blocked by our Italian spearmen. So I directed our sallying force to take that path and try to hit the Greeks in the back.

But it was too late. Unobserved by us, one Greek phalanx had taken the western approach to the forum. This allowed it to bypass the spearmen guarding the north and eastern entrances. It occupied the town centre unopposed, before charging the Italian spearmen guarding the eastern approach in the rear. Our Italian allies died bravely, the last spearmen seeming to fight off hundreds of attackers for minutes before he too fell.

When I arrived at the east of the forum, we were faced with four phalanxes of hoplites, while another four pressed against the triarii guarding the north entrance. It was hopeless. Then I saw, racing up the west entrance, Pleminius and his horse. He had chased the Greek routers off the field and was returning to assist in contesting the forum. Taking heart from Pleminius's sudden appearance, I charged my escort into the Greek hoplites guarding the eastern approach to the forum, while Pleminius charged them from the rear.



Quintus attempts to force a way through the east entrance to the forum, while Pleminius charges the rear of the hoplites in support. The many Greek banners in the distance are the hoplites who have forced their way through the northern entrance and have pinned the brave triarii to the wall.

It was not enough. To be honest, not if every Roman horseman and every Roman general in the entire Republic had thrown themselves at the hoplites would it have been enough to break them. They were too many, too brave and too solidly packed. Only a large force of Roman infantry could have moved them from the forum and I had less than fifty such men left from the sallying force. Slowly, inexorably, Legio IV fell. Soon we were down to less than twenty infantry men in the sallying force. The same number of brave triarii were fighting at even more hopeless odds in the north approach.

Through the corner of my eye, I saw a small group of lightly armed, quick moving men dash across the forum towards us. They were the funditores I had sent to the north approach. They had run out of ammunition. As the push of the Greek hoplites had swept the triarii up against the wall, an opening had been created in the north approach and they had managed to rush past the melee. (Although one or two could not resist plunging their daggers into the backs of unfortunate hoplites whose attentions were fixed on the heroic triarii!)

The funditore captain ran towards me and called out ironically:

"You never told us what to do when we were out of ammunition, sir!"

I could have kissed the little fellow. Instead, I merely waved a proud salute in honour of his men. Then, the admirable chap led his men gamely in a charge into the rear of the hoplites massing around the east entrance, while Pleminius and I again spurred our escorts into the melee.



Surely it is all over now? The funditores join the Roman generals in a futile charge against the Greeks on the east of the forum. Out of sight, a larger body of Greeks relentlessly wears down the triarii fighting near the north entrance.

Pleminius always was too fine a man, too brave, too strong. He cut his way into the centre of the Greeks, slashing and stabbing. He was too far in. He had to get out. I shouted to him.

"Pleminius, get out of there!"

But the young man just looked at me, reared his horse in salute and then disappeared beneath a seething mass of stabbing spears.



Vibius Pleminius, a second before his death.

"No!" I moaned inwardly, "Not you! I was supposed to die here, not you! Not you! Me! Not you!"

With the young man's death, the spirit went out of me. It was over. Slowly, our infantry fell away, until there were just three triarii still pinned against the wall to the north entrance. The Italian infantry that had assisted Pleminius in chasing the routers had still not arrived at the forum. But at less than half strength, there was no way they could dislodge eight strong phalanxes of hoplites.

Only one of my escort remained beside me - a veteran centurion, who had earned distinction fighting with the hastati of the Consular Army and so had joined my escort. I turned my horse towards the Greeks at the east entrance and approached cautiously.



Quintus and a lone equite, a veteran centurion, confront the victorious Greeks

In truth, I was unafraid. I had no will to live. I looked only at the many dead and wounded around the forum, at the chirurgeons and a few brave citizens among them, tending to the fallen.

"Brave sons of Zeus!" I called out loudly to the hoplites facing me. "You have fought well today and won a deserved victory! You have killed my army, my own brave boys. Even my own Tribune, Vibius Pleminius, has fallen. Theras of Sparta is avenged. You may leave now, having restored Greek honour. March out now, as the victors, with your heads held high and I will salute you.

But know this. You are leaderless. I have slain your General. You have no cavalry. No archers or javelins. They are all dead, like my own fine infantry. I will ride out of here and you will be powerless to stop me. You know my First Consul approaches with a mighty Consular army. If you stay here, you will fall as surely as my brave warriors fell before you. And I swear this, on the body of Vibius Pleminius, if you refuse to leave, if you stay to die, your deaths will be cruel and merciless. I will personally see that everyone of you is crucified. What is worse, I will lay crosses along the road to Athens, and set every captured Greek man, woman and child upon them.

Brave Greeks, the choice is yours. Leave now, with honour, and know that we Romans will fight you as men of honour, showing you all the consideration and respect you deserve. Or stay and die as foolish trapped rats, knowing your people will forever be hunted as such by us. That is the choice I lay before you. Now, speak, what say you?"

The exhausted hoplites looked impassively at me, until one large captain stepped forward and took off his helmet. He looked at me defiantly and then spat a large dollop of phelgm into his helmet, before running forward and hurling the helmet at me. With that the rest of his men raised a loud cheer and I had to ride for my life out of the forum.

Of the rest, there is little to tell. The dutiful Italian swordsmen eventually arrived, exhausted and bewildered at the eastern entrance to the forum. The reinvigorated hoplites pursued them and cut them down with enthusiasm. Finally, a few of the swordsmen broke and ran, one even making it to the forum.



The last Roman infantryman dies bravely.

There, he came to his senses and looked around at the piles of dead and wounded, the blood and carnage. I had managed to escape my pursuers and break back into the forum, where I saw the lone red figure.

"Run!" I shouted. "Save yourself, get out! Run for the north gate!"

The path was clear, the swordsman could have made it. But he was exhausted. The horror and the futility of what he saw overcame him. He turned to face the hundreds of Greek hoplites eagerly pursuing him, raised his shield and prepared to strike.

I could not look, I turned away and headed out of the forum. Riding along a side street, I heard a rasping voice call out:

"Sir! In here, sir!"

I halted my tired horse and peered into the gloom from where I heard the voice call out from. It was Verginius's agent, the man who had saved my life in the gardens when I had suffered a heart attack.

"Sir, you will be safe in here, sir!” the man urged.

Something about his tone unnerved me. I saw a flash of steel in the darkness and thought "No!". If Verginius really had conspired to bring this Greek army crashing around my head, would he really be happy to see me crawl out of the ruins of Apollonia? It was time, the agent had said this morning. It was not my time in the garden. It was my time now, here. But Pleminius had fallen this day, not me. If I succumbed to an assassin's blade now, Pleminius's death would have been in vain. His family would never hear how bravely he had fought. Songs would never be sung in his honour. Verginius may have thought it my time now, but no, I would not die. Not now, not after so much blood. I would not die for nothing.

Just then, I heard the faint sound of a horn in the distance. Then more calls. I looked at Verginius's agent. He looked back at me and considered the veteran centurion mounted beside me, lance held at the ready. The agent sheafed his danger and smiled a toothy grin, rasping out:

"My master is here. You are saved."

The agent bowed and disappeared into the shadows.

Excitedly, I turned my horse back to the forum. The Greeks were leaving - proudly, in good order, but they were leaving. I saw the large hoplite captain still in the forum; he was picking up his helmet. He wiped it inside and then waved it at me in a casual salute.

"Remember your words, general!" he called, almost happily and then he turned to join his men.

Around the forum, as the Greeks left, the chirurgeons and compassionate townspeople rushed to aid the wounded. Prisoners were released by the magnaminous Greeks. They included many of the brave funditores, who some hoplites had preferred to capture, scorning to kill such weak fighters. The brave triarii were all dead, however. The hoplites had made sure of that, each one fatally pierced through the heart or trampled to death in the earlier scrummage. I gathered together a group of the walking wounded and waited for the Greeks to leave Apollonia before hastily attempting to repair the breaches in the pallisade.

The battle was over. By rights, the Greeks had won. But thanks to the arrival of the Consular army, we still held Apollonia and so history will accord it a close victory for us.



For me, victory or defeat was irrelevant. All that matters to me is the heroic sacrifice of our men, symbolised by the brave Pleminius, a true Roman.



Season 5

260 men

[TinCow]

Consular I Army broke camp when it became apparent that the Greeks would not engage us on our own ground. We moved south and brought battle to the strongest of their forces, including two elite hoplite units and a full group of Spartans.



Much care was needed to confront such a formidable force. I arrayed the men into an unusual formation, with the Funditores in front of a center line of Italian Spearmen and Triarii, flanked on each side by Principes, Hastati, and Italian Swordsmen, and backed by Velites.



The Fundatores were used to harass and infuriate the enemy, so that they charged, enraged, into the center of our formation.



When they closed, the Fundatores would retreat behind the spearline and the surrounding men would hurl their javelins at the oncoming Greeks. Upon realizing the trap, the hoplites would then retreat, to resume their place in the line of battle. We had infinite patience though, and the constant hammer of lead bullets on Greek skulls broke their discipline again and again. Eventually, the General himself charged. To his credit, he did not retreat as the others, though it resulted in his death on the spears of the auxilia.



When the slingers had exhaused their ammunition, the line advanced and split to engulf the foe.



The encirclement was completed quickly.



The Spartans, flanked by the elite hoplites, fought for a long time, but in the end they died like the rest. Eventually, even their will was broken and the last fled for their lives. This was not a second Thermopylae.