The Will of the Senate - Battle reports

[econ21]

The last Greek city

He was a funny one, this First Consul, thought Numerius. We are invaded by Seleucids marching north from the western landbridge over the Bosphorus. So what does the First Consul order Legio V to do in response? To march to confront them, as Numerius had requested? To hunker down and defend Byzantion? No, he orders Legio V south, across the eastern landbridge over the straits, to attack the Greeks! Numerius smiled to himself, well at least the First Consul's strategy will have the element of surprise. It surprised the hell out of me.

Numerius heart warmed at the thought of the First Consul. In truth, he admired his leader intensely and the Consul's enigmatic response to the current crisis only added to that respect. The Republic was not short of brilliant commanders, but in Numerius's estimation, she had no more interesting strategist nor more accomplished tactician than the man currently leading her.

That reflection should have cheered Numerius, but he soon lapsed back into a morose disposition. His heart was not in the current fight. It felt like the wrong enemy, in the wrong place. It was true, the Greeks had allied themselves with Seleucia and were maneouvring to take Byzantion. Hence there was a logic in the First Consul's decision to send Numerius to eradicate them. But Numerius's eyes kept looking back, over the straits, towards Maronia and the hinterland, where Seleucid armies were pouring through into Roman lands.

Numerius thought especially of Tylis, where Praetor Coruncanius was stationed with the much depleted First Field Army. Tiberius Coruncanius was a man of integrity and a fighter's spirit. Recent controversies in the Senate had brought Numerius and Tiberius together as de facto allies, although the alliance was merely an implict one of shared beliefs and outlook, rather than anything explicitly stated. And yet the thought of the general disturbed Numerius.

In his fitful rest earlier that night, Numerius had had a nightmare or was it a premonition? In his dream, Numerius's father-in-law and now nemesis in the Senate, Augustus Verginius, had led the young Tribune to an occupied bed. The imaginary Verginius had drawn back the covers of the bed, revealing the scarred remains of Tiberius Coruncanius.

"See what you have done!" Verginius had hissed.

Numerius had turned to flee in the dream, only to be accosted in a doorway by the angry spirit of Publius Pansa:

"You will stay! And you will suffer the consequences of your actions!"

Numerius shuddered. Better to be fighting real men in this waking world, than confronting such spirits in the sleeping one.

A Samartian rider approached him, his heavy armour glinting in the moonlight.

"What word of the enemy?" Numerius inquired.

"Five phalanxes, not all at full strength, led by the Pylartes of Actum" the Samartian reported. He paused and Numerius realised this was not the end. "And the Greek King, Lasthenes of Corinth, marches from Nicomedia to reinforce his heir".



Numerius attacks at night. It raises his command skill, but does not prevent the Greeks receiving reinforcements.

Numerius frowned. So the King was a night fighter too, very well. Numerius decided to deploy his men to the east, where the ground was a little steeper and furthest from Nicomedia.

Right, thought Numerius, phalanxes. I know how to fight them. Flank them with skirmishers so they can get clear shots, tie them up with our own heavy infantry and then send in the cavalry. Simple. In theory, anyway.



Numerius tries a double envelopment of the phalanxes with his light troops and cavalry. It really is a silly plan when, out of camera, the Greeks have a powerful unit of hetairoi on the loose.

So the Romans started the slow ascent of the gentle slope on which the Greeks had stationed themselves. Numerius ordered the Italian spearmen to head for the Greek general and his hetairoi stationed to the east, at the rear of the phalanxes. His own Praetoria followed closely by. Numerius was surprised to see the Greek general pull back to the rear - he's not going to retreat is he? Numerius thought. But he gave it little more thought, even when the general then advanced to take up position on the west, to the rear of the phalanxes.

Cautiously, the Romans marched up the hill, spreading out to envelope the tightly knit Greeks as a fisherman's net might snare a shoal of fish. The Romans knew these Greek phalanxes were not the slow-moving ponderous creatures of legend. The hoplites could run and lacking any missiles, Numerius thought they resembled a tightly packed coil, ready to be sprung.

Then all hell is unleashed. The phalanxes charge down the hill. But what is worse, the hetairoi barrel down the east flank, making straight for the velites.



Numerius is wrong footed and the velites pay the price.

Numerius was on the west flank, far away from the crisis point. He could only watch in horror as the resourceful velite captain hurried his men to take position behind the hastati. Some made it, many did not. Numerius signalled to the Samartian cavalry on the Roman left to counter-charge the hetairoi, but they were deterred by a small unit of levy pikemen charging straight at them. Damn, this Greek is good, cursed Numerius. He waved his hand, signalling the Sarmatians to pull back. He was determined to preserve these superb riders at all costs - running head on into charging spearmen would not be smart. The velites and the hastati would have to endure.

Numerius turned to the fight around him. His Italian spearmen, who he had originally planned to intercept the hetairoi were locked into battle with hoplites. Not a good match up, Numerius thought angrily. He ordered his Praetoria to charge the hoplites in the back, but he was distracted and the charge was botched. Damn it, can I do nothing right today? he cursed. Pull back, get back, he called to his bodyguard.

Patience, Numerius, patience. Learn from Lucius Aemilius. What he plans on the map of Europe, we must emulate here on the field of battle. The enemy is committed. Their reinforcements are far away. Our funditores and Italian skirmishers pour missiles into the rears of our enemies. Our Sarmatians and Praetoria are also on the flanks. They can take the time to line up, settle down, start at the trot, move to the canter and then ... charge!



The first cavalry charge, on the east.



And seconds later, another perfect cavalry charge, on the west.



The Sarmatians show why they are reputed to be the finest cavalry in Europe - they kill 23 hetairoi for the loss of only one of their own.



The Crown Prince of Greece, Pylartes of Actum, is among the Sarmatians' victims

And so the battle ended. With the death of their general and their flanks crushed, the Greeks hoplites broke and fled. The Sarmatians hunted them down mercilessly. The reinforcements, consisting solely of one phalanx and the Greek king with his own escort of hetairoi, hastily beat a retreat to Nicomedia.



Historians will rate this battle as a heroic victory, but Numerius is not convinced. He has lost many velites and hastati, at a time when reinforcements cannot be expected. Heroic? Maybe. Smart? No.

The black mood lying over Numerius does not lift as he rides into Nicomedia the next day. This is not a battle. It is a slaughter.



The Greek King and his men await their destiny - never have men been so eager to die.

The fact that Numerius himself personally slays the Greek King leads to rejoicing among his men, but merely sinks him lower into his dark fog.



Another soul is sent to the underworld. There is no escape for mortals, even for brave Kings.

After the battle, Numerius angrily thunders around the govenor's palace, slamming into doors and aides with equal bellicosity. His timid Greek assistant looks at him uncomprehending. What has become of his normally equable master?

"Master, why this melancholy? This is a great victory! You have vanquished Greece! Your reputation grows! The men now say you are a confident attacker and a skilled infantry commander!"

Numerius snorts derisively and then stares back at the Greek angrily:

"Do you not know? Can you not guess what I have been ordered to do?!"

Numerius lets fall the message from the First Consul, setting out his grim duty. Enslave the town, man, woman and child. 5,345 subject Greeks will trek back over the straits to be sold into captivity in Roman lands. They will be stripped of their wealth and all but the barest personal possessions, bringing a meagre 1,029 denarii to the Republic.

But Numerius knows, the wealth of the town is not to be found in the pockets of its people. It lies in the buildings, the fine marble architecture of the Greeks and coffers of the many houses of state. And the temples.

Numerius Aureolus, Pontifex Maximus, stares at the list of Nicomedia's temples. They variously honour Zeus, Herackles, Dionysos, Nile and Athena. By all appearances, this was a god-fearing, civilised town. A last vestige of a great civilisation. Numerius is too well versed in history and scripture not to realise that the gods his people worship are also those of the Greeks, but merely given different names. What divine wrath does the Republic risk bringing down by this rapacious looting?

After the deed is done, the Greek aide compiles a list of the looted wealth - they have taken another 9,129 denarii, bringing the total raised by the expedition to 10,158 denarii. Numerius shakes his head at his sombre assistant.

But in truth, the destruction of bricks and mortar - even of marble - is not what most ails the young general. This Greek expedition has cost him 101 men, a fifth of his meagre force. The lives of his men mean the world to Numerius, but even more precious is what they protect - the gateway to the Republic and its first defence against the Seleucids now pouring into Europe.

What are the lives of 101 men worth? Numerius wonders.

And in his dark mood, a side of him fears he knows the answer: exactly 10,158 denarii.

[econ21]

The Raid on Prusa

"To: the Former Tribune: Numerius Aureolus
From: Roman High Command

I regret to inform you that your application for promotion to Legate has been turned down. The High Command believes that you are fully committed with your current duties as Governor of Byzantion and we will not assign you extra military staff if they are just to be diverted to civic duties.

Furthermore, the High Command has become aware of previous correspondence between you and the late Co-Consul on this matter. Clearly the Co-Consul took a similar view to us. Attend to your civic duties, former Tribune."

Numerius stared at the letter in disbelief. Bureaucrats! "Attending to civic duties!" Since when had midnight raids and the looting of settlements been "civic duties"!

He had to get out of Byzantion. He had come back to keep the unruly city in order. But he was like a caged animal. He had to get out.

The First Consul ... he held the keys to this gilded cage. What would appeal most to the Consul? Appeals to his compassion? His lust for glory? Appeals on the grounds of honour? Scarcely. The First Consul would not be swayed by such emotional appeals. What the Republic needed now was not more dead heroes.

Numerius looked at his Greek assistant, Isidor of Rhodes. The man was supposed to be Numerius "body slave", but in reality he was both less and more than that. Numerius was more than capable of dressing himself, but Isidor performed other adminstrative duties that were much more important. Right now he was working on an abacus, calculating the difference between the cost of Legio V's upkeep and the tax revenues collected from Byzantion each season. Numerius watched the Greek's quick fingers play with the beads on the abacus. Then Numerius smiled. He knew exactly what argument would persuade the First Consul to get him out of Byzantion. The only problem would be how to break it to Isidor, who had been so distressed at the looting of Debeltos and Nicomedia.

"AGAIN!?!" the Greek shouted in disbelief when he learnt of Numerius's scheme.

*****************************

So it was that Numerius rode out of Byzantion, authorised by the First Consul to carry out a raid on the Seleucid settlement of Prusa, much like that he had just performed so reluctantly on the former Greek settlement of Nicomedia. The Republic was broke and the prospect of large scale looting was too tempting to the First Consul. But this time Numerius rode out happily, full of enthusiasm for the venture. He tried to tell himself - and Isidor - that it was because this time the raid was against the Seleucids, that it would be the first time Romans could avenge the death of the Co-Consul and the loss of Maronia. But quick-witted Isidor was not convinced, prefering to believe instead that it was the thought of a Legate's baton in the young Tribune's backpack that motivated his master.

Numerius halted Legio V still on the eastern side of the straits, returning from Nicomedia. He sent on the Italian spearmen and the funditores to Byzantion, but ordered the rest of the column to about turn and march south to Prusa.

The sleepy settlement was caught quite unawares. The Seleucids had not expected that the savage fate that had befallen neighbouring Nicomedia would now fall on them.



Although it gives him no command advantage this time, Numerius attacks at night so he might have a chance to improve his night-fighting skills. He will earn the trait "night owl" as a result of this battle.

Numerius spoke to his Sarmatian scouts to learn the size of the garrison of Prusa - it was two phalanxes of hoplites and a very capable Greek general with a small escort of hetairoi. Easy enough to beat, but how to do it at the least cost in Roman blood? Hoplites defending a forum were the devil's own job to shift. He would try to lure them out of their defences.

Carefully, he arranged his infantry at the opening of the southern road into the city. Roman heavy infantry at the front, backed by skirmishers and his mercenaries. That's the trap. Now, time to be the bait.

Numerius led his Praetoria up the southern road into the forum to confront the Seleucids. He would have to provoke them.

"I'm not very good at this sort of thing." Numerius said to Marcus Flavius, a Praetorian who had saved his life in the fighting at Ratiaria. "Would you do it?"

The young Praetorian smiled amusedly and tipped his forehead, before riding up to the Seleucids deployed in the forum.

"Son's of Alexander!?! Daughters of whores, more like! We are here to avenge Maronia! When we are through with you, your country will wish she never set foot in Europe!" Marcus paused for breath. The Seleucids were restive, but not moving yet.

Marcus rode closer.

"They say you killed your great King! Poisoned him! Well, look over there..."

Marcus guestured to blond haired Numerius.

"Alexander is back! And he is going to do to everyone of you what he used to do to Hephaestion!"

Numerius nearly fell off his horse.

Meanwhile, the Seleucids roared out as a man in anger and charged towards Numerius and his men.

Numerius tried to give Marcus a whithering look, but the young Praetorian was already riding past, turning only to wink and shout:

"The benefits of a classical education!"

Numerius roared back: "What in hades?!? I'm finished if that ever gets back to the Senate!"

As he turned his horse, the Tribune could hear Marcus shout back:

"And you are not already? Look at your wings, Icarus? They are on fire!"

Numerius spurred his horse: "Enough of the classical allusions, already!"

Yet, it was true, he had become the Senate's whipping boy. Already there were rumours of a vast conspiracy to place his father-in-law and nemesis, August Verginius, in power at the head of a faction that seemed to share no common agenda except self-advancement and a common determination to use Numerius as their scapegoat. If the Seleucid spears did not finish him, Numerius thought resignedly, a second Verginius consulship probably would.



Baited by the Praetoria, the Seleucids charge out of the forum.

But the Seleucid general, Admetos of Abila, had not acquired his legendary reputation as a commander for nothing. When his hetairoi spotted the rows of Roman infantry waiting to receive them, they halted and returned to the forum. Three times, Numerius tried to lure him out and three times, the trap failed.

Sod this for a game of of soldiers, Numerius decided. If Admetos would not charge him, there was only one thing for it...



Who says you can't get off a cavalry charge in a narrow city street?

The Praetoria crashed into the hetairoi, although the impact was more visual than real as few if any Seleucids fell to the Roman lances. Instead, a long melee developed, watched patiently by the Seleucid phalanxes only a few yards away. Apparently, Admetos had ordered them to stand to and let him deal personally with the foul-mouthed young Romans. Numerius had no such compunction and had ordered the triarii to come up to lend their weight to the struggle.



Enraged, Admetos tries to slay the new "Alexander"

Eventually the unequal struggle was resolved in Rome's favour and the two Seleucid phalanxes were left leaderless in the forum.

Very tired, Numerius did not even think to try luring them out but instead called for the rest of Legio V to come to try to dislodge the enemy.

He lined up the principes and hastati to face the phalanxes, but ordered them to hold fire. Behind them he stationed his skirmishers, while to his right, he placed the basternae and Sarmatians. The Praetoria and triarii, he led along the left edge of the forum, aiming to get behind the phalanxes.

He ordered the skirmishers to follow him, hoping to give them a rear shot at the spearmen, but unfortunately the Italian skirmishers lacked discipline and ventured too close to the phalanxes. Ten of their number were butchered before Numerius rescinded the order and pulled them back behind the Roman infantry.

When he was satisfied that everyone was in position, Numerius rode his Praetoria round the rear of the Seleucids. The spearmen turned to face this threat, exposing their backs to the pila of the hastati and the principes. The phalanxes attempted a futile charge against the Roman cavalry, losing many men to the Roman infantry now given the order to fire at will. Maddened by their losses from the withering pila fire coming from behind, one phalanx reversed and charged the Roman infantry. Seconds later, the bastarnae launched a devastating counter-charge. The phalanx broke almost immediately - too soon, if anything, to Numerius's liking, because it meant many escaped alive to the forum, where they rallied and renewed the fighting.

Soon both phalanxes were locked in combat with the Roman infantry. The more disciplined velites had succeeded in doing what the Italian skirmishers had failed to do and were positioned to throw their javelins in the exposed backs of the phalanxes. The bastarnae, in their eagerness to get at the Seleucids, clambered over the shieldwall of the hoplites, hacking down with their fearsome rhomphaia. Such bravery carried a price, however, and by the end of the battle, 9 of the savage mercenaries lay dead.

Carefully, Numerius lined his cavalry behind the phalanxes and ended the battle with a climactic charge:



The mortal blow

After the battle, Numerius's Sarmatian scouts brought a powerful looking countryman to meet the Tribune. The Sarmatian visitor was the head of a mercenary company, that included horse archers, Eastern infantry and Cyrtian slingers. Numerius was fascinated by the idea of fighting with bows on horse back and sorely tempted to hire the mercenaries without authorisation from the First Consul. Isidor, however, shot him a withering look. Numerius accepted the inevitable. The Senate would crucify me, he thought - literally, crucify me - if I overstep my authority in that way. So, instead, he asked the Sarmatian mercenary captain to ride with him part of the way to Byzantion, until he had heard back from the First Consul.

When word did come, the Sarmatian had to be sent away empty handed. However, Numerius was not downcast. For with the First Consul's letter had come another, from the Roman High Command. Since he was now indisputably back in the field, his promotion to Legate had this time been approved.

Well, well, a Legate at 22 years of age? Numerius thought. Surely some kind of record?

[Dooz]

Retaking Tylis

The time had come for Cornelius Saturninus to prove his worth and establish himself as an important part of the Roman Republic. Having fought a couple of smaller battles prior, he was now tasked with retaking the city of Tylis from the Odrysian rebels who had declared their independence from Roman rule. It was time to show the senators what he was made of.


Captain Cocolitanus had assumed control of the rebel force and the city. Saturninus would launch his attack at night.

The plan of attack was set. The army was split in two, with Cornelius in command of the Roman legion and Vatinius leading the alae, which included Italians, Gauls, and Illyrians. They would attack from different sides to split the defenders and enter the city with less clutter.


Cornelius Saturninus leading the Roman legion from the West.


Galerius Vatinius leading the allied forces from the South.

As soon as the Odrysians saw the torches lit and moving towards their city, they sent forward scouts to harass both our forces simultaneously. A group of Thracian cavalry hurried south to take on Vatinius' men while some Gallic slingers headed out west to annoy Saturninus. Vatinius ordered the Italian cavalry to charge and he followed suit with his bodyguards to cut down the Thracians. Cornelius' Romans made quick work of the Gauls with their javelins and pila, sending the remaining few running back into the city. The sharp general would have none of that however and pursued them before they could get far.


Vatinius taking down a Thracian rider.


The Gauls trying to get back into the city with pila to their back.

After the first wave of the sally, another group of fools came charging out of the city. This time they were formidable hoplites running towards the mixed allied division. Slingers put some lead on them before they reached our first man and took a few down. Our Gallic spearmen clashed with their spears head-on and gave them a good fight. The Illyrian mercenaries cast their javelins into the hoplite's flank then charged, along with the Gallic swordsmen, and destroyed them completely.


The Illyrians being a thorn in the side of the hoplites.

The rest of the rebels dared not venture out of the city and huddled close together in the market square, awaiting their doom. Soon after the last man of their forward guard was killed, they heard the march of the Roman army closing in on them from two sides.


The two divisions of the Roman legion illuminating the streets as they march towards the last remaining rebels.

The Roman army converges on the bastarnae and hoplites fighting for their freedom. The Hastati bear the brunt of the attack on the left flank against the hoplites and bastarnae mixed in between. They put on a real display this day, killing 132 rebels while only losing 10 men themselves. The Gauls and Illyrians dealt with the bastarnae on the right flank. Many of them fall as they were not nearly as skilled or trained as our glorious Romans, but they get the job done which is what they get paid for.


The main clash between the Romans and Odrysians.


Captain Cocolitanus fought alongside his hoplites to the last man, and was surrounded and killed.

And so, Cornelius Saturninus had conducted his first assault on a city and came out victorious. The victory gave him even more confidence and fame. His words now held sway over most men, and many came from far and wide just to hear him speak. In fact, for his post-victory speech all of the citizens of Tylis came out of their homes to show their support. Even the ones who had conspired against Rome to gain their freedom in the first place were taken by Saturninus' words and pledged their loyalty to the Republic. Such a man can go far if properly used.

[Death the destroyer of worlds]

A nervous scout arrived at my tent with the news that the Thracians were marching on Oduba in force. I sent him away to sound assembly.


On my horse I looked over my troops, mostly raw auxilia recruits from Italian farms, some unreliable mercenaries, and only a single battered hastati and principii unit and not even one single triarii in sight. The troops were clearly aware of their sorry appearance and nervous about the upcoming battle. Those warmongers in the senate are responsible for this sorry sight, when will their senses return to reality ? This is supposed to be a Field Army ? It's not even half a Praetorian Legion and a bunch of farmer's sons ! I feel like a bandit chieftain instead of a Praetor ! At least we're not facing Germans. Well, time to get them ready...

Men, you know me, I've slain so many of these Thracians you could build a mountain of their corpses so high I could walk up to heaven itself. With my trusty brother-in-arms Gnaeus Hordeonius by my side, I've beaten them again and again and again.
Only once did they hurt us badly and that was when they outnumbered us two to one and still we routed them.
I know some of you men are wary of our new Italian auxilia recruits, but Italian bravery has saved me time and time again, as it will do today. You Italians know me, I was the one that has seen to it that the senate deemed it right to give some of your cities the right of Roman citizenship. Today has come the moment to earn that right. I want you to fight like Romans, as if you were principii yourselves ! Make me proud !

The Italian troops outdid each other in proclaiming their fighting skills, vowing to kill more Thracians singlehandedly than all the Roman troops in the army put together, bringing smiles to the faces of the Romans. They did not desist their demands for battle untill I promised them the frontline position in the center and on the right flank, the position of honour. Now they were ready for battle.

I'd managed to find the perfect place to wait for Scyles to show up. His army would have to march up a steep hill, tiring their troops and at the same time being exposed to our slingers. As promised, I deployed the Italian spearmen in the center and the Italian swordsmen on the right. The heavy infantry I kept in reserve on my right flank.


Far away, a tiny group of reinforcements, mostly slingers, showed up from Oduba. They started a running march to our right flank. They would be exhausted by the time they arrived, but the same would apply to the Thracians.


When the Thracians finally managed to climb the hill, they were greeted by a hail of pila. They had brought numerous missile troops themselves and replied in kind. Cries of pain filled the air on both sides.


The ferocious falxmen charged en masse at the center, where my slingers kept throwing stones untill the very last moment. They ran behind the Italian spearmen and redeployed.


When the falxmen were just a few metres away I ordered the volley of the skirmishers that I had held in reserve and the falxmen were slaughtered point blank. They broke and retreated, reformed and attacked once more and now the battle began in earnest.


Meanwhile, my reinforcements had been intercepted and I ordered all the reserve heavy infantry and all the cavalry to charge to their relief. If I could get those slingers going on the enemy's left flank it would be very helpful. The Gallic light cavalry, mad with battle lust, beat everyone to the melee. The Gallic infantry may be pathetic, their excellent cavalry almost makes up for it.


Scylus send more reinforcements to the battle around the reinforcements, led by himself, and in a confused melee he fell pierced by a praetorian lance.


Now I was master of the situation. I ordered the heavy infantry and the slingers to attack the enemy's left flank and the cavalry to attack their missile troops in the rear of their army.


The unexpected rain of stones from the left, made the Thracian troops look up for the battle. They found they were surrounded, their general Scylus was dead, and their other general had fled the field. They tried to make an orderly retreat and I ordered the Italian auxilia to charge.


Unfortunately for the Thracians, they found their exhausted legs could not outrun those of the fresh Italian auxilia. They were all slain on the run.


After the battle, the few remaining Thracian survivors slunk back to their villages, hoping never to see an Italian again. The escaped general has not been seen again.

[econ21]

The third battle of Maronia

“How the hell did he do that?!?” Numerius scratched his head. The report of the First Consul’s victory at Lepcis Magna both pleased and puzzled him. “How did he take a settlement with the loss of only one man?”

The captain of his Praetoria, Marcus Flavius, skimmed his eyes over the scroll: “Must have been javelins.” the young Roman drawled. “Peltasts are the nemesis of the phalanx.”

Numerius nodded - of course he knew that in theory, but it was quite another thing to read of such a powerful demonstration in practice. “Still, it’s a bit much to be taught such a lesson by a young man just out of the academy.”

“Is it any worse than being given orders by him?” Marcus interjected sharply, then laughed. “Still, the academy must have improved a fair bit since my day - bunch of old duffers running it when I was there. Not that you would know anything about that, would you, sir?”

Numerius shot him a barbed glance - the Legate’s absence of much formal schooling, along with his relatively plebeian origin, was a sore point with him. Marcus, his patrician Praetorian captain, knew this and enjoyed needling the wound.

“OK, enough banter, let’s review the situation. You’ve read the First Consul’s orders, yes?” The plan was a bold one. It was quite contrary to Numerius's own plan of withdrawing Legio V and the First Field Army to Philippi and Tylis, respectively, where they could be raised to Consular strength. The Consul's plan also overruled Praetor Coruncanius's proposal of a grand daylight battle, pitching both Roman formations against the two Seleucid armies that had marched north of Maronia. Instead, the First Consul had ordered a plan as aggressive as the Praetors and as a safe as Numerius's. Numerius was to join with reinforcements at Philippi, but they would meet not in the mustering fields of Philippi but at Seleucid held Maronia. Meanwhile Praetor Coruncanius would also be reinforced from Philippi and would get his wish for open battle, but it would be done at night so he could pick off the two Seleucid armies one by one.

“Are the reinforcements form Philippi all here?” Numerius queried.

“Yes.” replied Marcus, “Mainly heavy infantry, which is fine as Legio V is sorely in need of that. The only light troops are a company of Illyrian mercenaries. We have a full cohort of principes, a company of mercenary hoplites, two companies of Thracian infantry and a band of Gallic swordsmen.”

Good, thought, Numerius. Those additions brought up Legio V into something not far short of a Consular army, more than doubling Legio V’s strength from 437 men to 960.

“Right, this is the plan. We’ll attack at dawn. No point blundering about in the dark - both we and the Seleucid general are too savy to gain any benefit from that. Marcus, I am going to rely heavily on you and the Praetoria. I know it may not be proper for a Legate to expose himself to danger at the front of the line, but we still lack a chirurgeon and your men are our best counter for those damned Seleucid hypaspists. We’ll also try to emulate our Consul and make as much use of our javelins as we can before closing. Oh, and Marcus, one more thing ... the Consul says we are to enter Maronia as liberators, not enslavers, so make sure the men are kept under a tight leash after we win.”

There was loud clapping of hands. Numerius turned and saw his Greek assistant Isidor smiling sardonically:
“At last! You Romans are finally going to act as if you are civilised!”

Numerius frowned - with subordinates like this, who needed enemies?



The third battle of Maronia, Autumn 255 BC

So, here is where I begin to make good my promise to avenge the death of Co-Consul Publius Pansa, thought Numerius. Retaking Maronia was the first step towards redeeming Roman honour, although duty would not be satisfied until Molon himself was dead. Numerius had served under Publius Pansa, as his tribune, and the two had got on well. However, the relationship had soured when Publius had become Co-Consul. Publius seemed to resent his underling emerging from his shadow and acquiring an independent command at such a young age. Numerius could not quite understand the change in his former commander; it was as if Publius was a different person. Still, Numerius would avenge Publius, thinking of the happier times they had enjoyed in battle together rather than the later tensions.

The battle was fought under a bright Mediteranean sun. The Seleucids were deployed, half in and half out of Maronia. Still smarting from his encounter with them at Ratiaria, Numerius resolved to personally cut down the deadly hypaspists before tangling with the Seleucid phalanxes.



As the Principes prepare to fire, Numerius’s Praetorians charge the first unit of hypaspists...



...before moving to assist in bringing down the second.

Soon the Seleucid phalanxes had been stripped of their supports - the hypaspists and various small contingents of hoplites and skirmishers. Now, Numerius brought up his infantry slowly - trying to avoid contact the phalangists and giving his men time to lose their javelins and pila. The phalanxes were uncertain what to do in the face of overwhelming odds - advancing and retiring, exposing their backs to deadly volleys. Soon a killing zone had been created at the mouth of the settlement.



Inspired by the Consul’s bloodless victory at Lepcis Magna, Numerius creates a killing zone for the unfortunate Seleucid phalanxes.

Eventually, the Seleucids had had enough and two depleted phalanxes pushed on into the Roman right. Seeking to minimise the casualties among his rank and file, Numerius charged into the flank of the phalanxes.



Throughout the battle, Numerius uses his Praetoria as a shock force to bring the combats to quick resolutions. It is a reckless tactic and costs the Praetoria dearly.

When the phalanxes finally broke, Numerius pursued them down the streets to the city forum. Here, he made a costly error - allowing his infantry to pursue higgedly-piggedly. This was despite the fact that the Seleucid general was waiting for the Romans with his hetairoi in the forum.



In war, the bravest are the first to die. The bastarnae are the most eager to break into the forum and take the brunt of the charge of the defending hetairoi.

“Damn it!” cursed Numerius. “Why does this always keep happening to me?!” It seemed as if almost every battle, the enemy general's escort was able to reek havoc on Numerius’s army. The young Legate had earned the reputation of being a skilled infantry commander. Incompetent against cavalry would be more like it, he thought bitterly.

The hetairoi were supported by many peltasts in the forum, who used the opportunity to pour javelins in amongst the beleaguered bastarnae. Soon the brave warriors were down to half strength. Urgently, Numerius called for his Sarmatian cavalry to assist in the battle - but before they arrived, it would be up to the Praetorians to relieve the pressure on the bastarnae.



What is left of the Praetoria cut down the peltasts defending the forum...



While the Sarmatians strike down the brave Seleucid general and bring the battle to a close.

After the battle, Numerius took stock of the situation. The people of Maronia welcomed the return of the Romans, hailing Numerius as a conqueror while his men acclaimed him as a confident attacker. But the Seleucids had fought well and although Roman losses had been modest, most of the dead were the best men in the Legio V - the Praetorians and the bastarnae.



The loss of most his Praetoria was particularly troubling, given the reports of over 200 Seleucid cavalry patrolling in the area of the straits. But that was next season’s problem. The key question now was the fate of Praetor Corucanius and the First Field Army, about to do battle with a force four times as large as that which Numerius had just destroyed.

[flyd]

A Roman army marches through the night.

"I can't believe this. Sneaking up on the enemy at night. Just because we're fighting Greeks, must we match them in treachery? What if the Seleucid camp isn't alerted before we arrive? We'll have a massacre on our hands, that's what. Where is the honor in that? It's all Aureolus' fault. If it weren't for him, I would have been able to convince the Consul to authorize a daytime battle. What kind of man prefers to fight at night, anyway? What kind of man would pass up a glorious and epic battle for... this, or for a minor assault on Maronia? A deceitful and underhanded one. I wonder how he ever got the nickname of Alexander, it's hardly befitting for him." Tiberius turned to the centurion he was riding with. "Are you even listening"?

"Huh? Oh... yeah... uh, yeah, that's terrible, really.."

"What is?"

"That... thing you just said."

"What thing?"

Much to the centurion's relief, the conversation was interrupted by the return of the mounted Thracian scouts.

"What news of the enemy?" Tiberius asked.

"We weren't able to reach the enemy camp, they have sentries posted all over the place. Give me 10 men, and I can quietly take care of one of the posts, and take a look at the camp," said the Thracian.

"No, just ignore the sentries and go look at the camp."

"But, they'll see us!"

"Yes, you're not invisible."

"I mean, they will be able to alert the camp."

"I'm well aware of that."

The Thracian knew better than to press the issue further, and rode off toward the enemy camp. He came back not long after, reporting that the Seleucid camp was alerted and that the army was forming up for battle. By the time the Romans closed in, the main body of the Seleucid army was formed, but the second army was still in their camp and unlikely to respond.



"Halt!"

The Roman army came to a stop on the side of a hill, already in combat formation. Tiberus was staring intently at the top of the hill. Everyone else was somewhat confused.


Tiberius looks at the hill.

"Why are we stopped?" the centurion whispered so as to not break the silence.

"Do you hear that?" Tiberius asked.

"Hear what?"

"The sound of metal and wood, and of earth being crushed beneath men's feet. There is an army on the other side of that hill. We gotta get up there before them. Move out, quickly! Let's go, MOVE IT!"

The entire army jumped forward as if startled, and ran up the hill.


The two armies run toward each other.

As the Romans came over the crest of the hill, they came face to face with the Seleucids. Both were rather surprised to see each other, and came to a stop. Only the Gauls charged forward and attacked. The Illyrians ran forward too, but stopped when they realized no one was following.


The two armies face each other.

A moment later, the Romans opened up with javelins, and charged. The Seleucid army consisted of three groups. In the center were hoplites, on the right were Gallic and Thracian mercenaries. And, strangely enough, the elite phalangites were deployed on the left. Just what sort of trick was the enemy general trying to play? It didn't really matter; if he was really smart, he would have deployed them in the center. Tiberius merely ignored his right flank, attacking the center and left. The cavalry was ordered to eliminate the enemy cavalry on the left, and then break through to behind the enemy line. They suffered some casualties, but made it just as the enemy general entered the battle.


Tiberius and Abascantus engage in combat as the Roman cavalry makes their way to the rear of the enemy.


The result is predictable.

With perfect timing, the Thracian and Sarmatian cavalry charge the Seleucid center from the rear, causing a mass rout.


The center routs.

The phalangites on the right looked on in horror as their friends began to flee. They stood their ground, however. Tiberius rallied the cavalry and charged the phalanxes personally.


Tiberius charges the remaining phalanxes from the rear.

They routed, and the battle was over. Around 150 Seleucids escaped and retreated to Nicomedia.

[econ21]

Numerius relaxed at his desk in the governor’s palace at Maronia. He had given orders for Legio V to prepare for the coming winter and, with word of Praetor Coruncanius’s victory over the Seleucids, it seemed that operations this season were over. There was still a substantial cavalry-heavy Seleucid army this side of the straits, but that, Numerius assumed, was next season’s problem.

“A message from the Consul! A message from the Consul!” Isidor ran in the room excitedly. “He asks if you can strike at the last Seleucid army this side of the straits!”

Numerius jumped up at this unexpected call to action. He scanned the message. Praetor Coruncanius had failed to snare the second Seleucid army south of Tylis. It had fled in tact across the straits to Abydos, to rendezvous with the hated Molon. Well, it was fortunate we took Maronia before Praetor Coruncanius made his move, Numerius thought. Two Seleucid armies here would have been the devil’s own job to shift. OK, we can’t do anything about Molon right now - first we have to deal with that cavalry-heavy army that stands between us. Can we take it? Numerius already was developing a phobia of fighting cavalry, based on the rough handling Legio V had repeatedly received from the mounted escorts of enemy generals. Those escorts had typically numbered only a score or more. Now he would have to fight hundreds of cavalry.

“My only cavalry is 28 Sarmatians,” Numerius thought ruefully, “Plus the six survivors of my escort. And the Seleucids have, what, 288 cavalry. Well this should be interesting. What about missiles? Maybe I can shoot them down from afar? I have only my funditores. But there are a company of Rhodian slingers and Cretan archers seeking employment around Maronia. Isidor - ask the First Consul if we are authorised to hire them. And get the army moving - we march now.”

So a tired Legio V set off to confront the last remaining Seleucid army this side of the straits. Word came back from the First Consul - no mercenaries could be afforded; the money was needed for an offensive that the Consul had decided at the last moment to launch from Lepcis Magna. Worse still, the Consul reminded Numerius that the Thracian cavalry in the Seleucid force were famed for fighting with missiles. This is going to be messy, thought Numerius.



Once last push and the Seleucids are repelled from Europe.

Numerius’s mood was not improved when he found the Seleucid army had deployed in a heavily wooded area. It was possible that woods provided some advantage against cavalry, although Numerius was not sure if that was true. However, if there was one thing messier than fighting missile cavalry, Numerius thought, it was fighting in woods. Numerius had a traditional Roman’s view of battle - it was to be fought in close order, out in the open, with heavy infantry. Scurrying around woods in hit and run encounters was not the Roman way.


Numerius deploys aiming to seize some high ground and fight the Seleucids in the open valley below. However, the Seleucids deploy far away in the woods and cannot be enticed out.

Gingerly, Numerius advanced his army towards the woods where the Seleucids were deployed. He could make out two phalanxes in the centre, backed by another slightly to the west. The enemy cavalry were largely hidden, to the rear. Numerius ordered his veteran principes to face off with the phalanxes but not to engage. He ordered his two Thracian infantry and his Italian spearman to move around to the west; while to the east, he sent his hoplite company, his full strength cohort of principes and his few hastati.

The Thracians were the first to make contact with the hidden Seleucid cavalry. They stumbled upon a company of heavy Thracian cavalry but the enemy did not charge. Instead both sides exchange a volley of javelins before the infantry assaulted the cavalry.



An encounter typical of the battle - Roman infantry stumble on Seleucid cavalry and engage in a confusing melee.

The second Thracian infantry unit then moved up and charged the Seleucid phalanx line from the flank.



The Thracians will win the battle honours this day. Note the presence of the Roman principes pinning the phalanx to face forward.

On the western flank, the Roman mercenary hoplites pressed blindly into the woods, eventually encountering light Thracian cavalry. For some inexplicable reason, the Thracian cavalry did not attempt to skirmish but got caught up in an uneven melee.



The battle is now in full sway - notice how almost every Roman unit is engaged in combat.

Numerius’s escort only numbered six men and he resolved not to engage the superior numbers of enemy cavalry. However, once virtually all his army was committed to battle, his enforced idleness became unbearable. The Thracians were hacking away at the enemy phalanxes, but it was slow work and a unit of Seleucid peltasts was preparing to fire into the backs of the Romans' brave allies. Numerius ordered his escort in to distract the peltasts.



Numerius risks disaster fighting peltasts in the woods.

The fight was bitter and Numerius felt a rising wave of panic within him as the eighty peltasts slowly moved in to envelope his six horsemen. Marcus, the captain of his Praetoria called out:

“They are not going to break! We must pull back!”

Numerius nodded. “Fall back! Fall back!”

At that moment, outside the wood, Isidor - Numerius’s Greek advisor - was peering anxiously into gloom. He heard a loud shout of dismay and faintly caught the words:

”He has fallen! The general has fallen!”

Curses, thought Isidor, the young fool has finally gotten himself killed! Then Isidor realised the cry had been in his own mother tongue, not Latin!



The Italian spearmen were given a specific task: kill the Seleucid general. Job done.

With the death of their general, the three beleaguered phalanxes finally broke. Numerius rallied his praetorian and, backed by his few velites, resumed his contest with the peltasts. This time, they would not hold.



The last significant action of the day.

Soon all that remained of the Seleucid army was a company of light Thracian horse. They skirmished briefly but their heart was not in the fight anymore. They soon broke, their swift horses allowing them to make good their escape. However, the mercenaries then disbanded - the risks of employment in the Seleucid army evidently exceeded the benefits.

After the battle, Numerius was happy with the result. It had cost him about a hundred men - mainly drawn from the recently recruited mercenaries: Thracians and hoplites. But these men had died well, proving their worth in this battle. There were now no Seleucid forces on the European side of the straits.



Numerius had been ordered to return Legio V to Maronia, but he was briefly tempted to disobey orders and strike out for Abydos, to make his rendezvous with Molon. But Isidor calculated the army could not make it to Abydos this season. Better to wait, and hope the First Consul would sanction such a move this winter. Yes, better to wait and learn news of the Consul’s own campaign far away in Afrika.