The Wandering Commander: Asinius Commodus

**littlelostboy** · 11-30-2005, 14:58

Aye, new update on the adventures of Asinius. Enjoy!

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Chapter 8 - The Eagle and The Alpha
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Asinius stared at the eagle. For a week it had been watching and observing the eagle closely. Every morning when the sun peeked through the dark horizon, Asinius would be out of the town on his horse, riding towards the cold, bleak mountains. There, he would wait, waiting for the eagle to descend from its barren home. Surprisingly, the area seemed to be devoid of any other animals, an area that was famed for its diversity of species. Asinius suspected that the eagle or some family of eagles had a part to play in this. Approaching a lone tree, Asinius tied his horse near the tree before settling under it. There, he waited until the sun had conquered darkness and had sat on its on rightful throne on the sky when the eagle would appear.

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

The eagle flew down the rocky mountains. Towards the plain of death that it had seen a week earlier. What it saw feel it with fear, admiration and respect. Fear, because it now knew that the pack of animals, which it had been tracking, had defeated the stronghold of another pack of animals, in such a short time too. Admiration, because the alpha leader had been calm and had lead his animals to victory. While the other pack of animals guarding their stronghold had fought in a disorganized mess and their alpha leader had been slaughtered within a short time, the crimson-coloured animals had fought in a calm orderly fashion. Respect, respect to the alpha leader, for now to the eagle itself, the red-crested alpha seemed to be some leader to be reckoned with.

Soaring easily on the warm air currents that were now appearing, the eagle flew towards the sun, its golden feathers camouflaged against the golden brilliance of the sun. Pride and joy filled its heart once more, this was its home; the sky, the sun, and they were its family and nothing else.

Then, it spotted the red-crested alpha.

But it was without its red-crest.

But it was definitely the alpha, the mighty leader that had lead its animals to bloody glory. Once again, fear and respect filled the eagle's heart. Then anger. Why should it, the mighty golden eagle, be afraid of an animal that cannot fly, much less camouflaged against the environs? Why should it, the golden eagle of the west, of the sky, of the sun, be afraid of a lowly alpha from the cold jars of clays? Feeling its fear leaving, the eagle slowly spiralled down towards resting alpha. Slowly, in precise movements and grace, it moved towards the alpha.

***********

There it was.

Asinius watched the eagle, scrutinizing its every move. After a week of observing the eagle, Asinius was finally relieved that the eagle was not a spy for the Britons or for the Germans. Every night, it headed back to the south, towards the mountain that divided Asinius from the civilized, Roman lands. But still, Asinius had some lingering doubts. There might be some Druids that were hiding among the Roman lands, sending the eagle to spy on Asinius and his soldiers. Today was the day.

Today, he was going to capture the eagle.

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

Gliding towards the alpha, the eagle’s sharp eyes could see that the alpha was watching him, silently. A small camp fire was burning near the foot of the alpha’s leg and the alpha was constantly feeding it with dry branches, and at times, it produced a cloth and covered the fire, before lifting the cloth and send small, billowing grey smoke into the sky. Warily, the eagle slowly approached the alpha. As it descended from the safe sky, it emitted three short, sharp cries.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

Lower.

The feet hit the earth with a gently impact and the eagle raised its wings to stabilize itself. Shaking itself, it walked towards the alpha before stopping just near the fire. There, it stood and stared, its golden eyes fixed on the dark brown eyes of the alpha.

For a long time, neither of them made any noise.

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

Asinius watched the eagle as it made it descent and settled down near its fire. The eagle was watching him and somehow he felt a strange kind of power radiating from the eagle, a kind of pride, and a kind of mood that surrounded a mysterious and majestic bird.

Asinius tensed his body, neither moving nor relaxing. This was the first time the eagle had came so close to him and he was not going to let the chance slip out of his hand. Fixing his eyes on the eagle, his right hand moved very slowly to a pouch.

The eagle flapped its wings ad made soft, dangerous noises.

Immediately, Asinius froze.

Watching the eagle, Asinius hand lingered around the opening of his pouch. He watched the eagle and it seemed to be observing his every move. Two leaders, both observing each other.

It was unnerving.

Asinius’s hand slowly creep into the pouch, there he slowly fish around before grasping a piece of something. Slowly, he pulled his hand out.

Slowly, inch by inch.

The eagle jumped.

Asinius froze.

Then very slowly, the eagle settled back down at the foot of the fire, its body tense and its eyes watching Asinius. Slowly, Asinius pull out his hand from the pouch and extended it forward to the eagle before dropping the thing onto the ground. Then, he waited.

The eagle walked slowly towards the thing on the ground. At first, it looked at Asinius and back to the thing and back to Asinius before turning its golden-brown head towards the sun. It continued to watch the sun rising from the depths of Hades, conquering and defeating the darkness. For a long moment, the eagle stood staring hard at the sun, before turning back to Asinius and watching him with a fierce, haughty look. Then, with all the vigilant the eagle had, it extended its neck and grasped the piece of raw meat.

Asinius waited as the eagle stared at him, the piece of meat still in its beak, not swallowing. He wondered how long he could wait for the sun was around over the horizon and he had to be back to town before the sun was high above. Leaning his back against the bark, Asinius relaxed as he saw the eagle finally swallowed the piece of meat.

But then it was still not over; the eagle might fly away at once after finishing its titbit. However, the eagle stood there, staring at Asinius as if it was trying to peer into his soul. For the first time, Asinius felt guiltiness crawling over him and enwrapping him around, like when a person walked away from a lamp and was enshrouded in darkness.

The eagle slowly flapped its wings. However, as much as it wanted to, it could not fly. Somehow, the heady aroma of the smoke from the fire was confusing it and the eagle was surprised because before it ate the meat, it was fine and beside, the eagle had been very tolerant of smoke, until now.

Then realization hit the eagle and once again, fear filled it and the eagle cast an eye, an unsteady eye on the alpha. Fear hit it hard as the eagle realized it was powerless, it could not fly. Flapping its wings, the eagle walked away from the alpha, trying to increase the distance between both of them. However, some how, although it seemed to be walking fast, the distance only seemed to increase slightly. Then another thing hit it again, and hard. It came quickly, without warning and engulfed it totally. The eagle was shocked but it fought against the thing but then the eagle was weak and eventually, the eagle succumbed.

Asinius did not moved from the tree. He sat watching the eagle as it fought against the drug and then fell like a stone onto the grassy ground. But still he did not moved. For the first time, he felt anger against himself, for what he had done to a bird, a bird that was a worthy leader and king. He felt like a lowly bastard and he actually wanted to leave the eagle there instead of capturing it. However, he knew that if he went back to the town without the eagle, he would feel the urge to capture the eagle again, and he could not simply drug the eagle a second time.

Standing up, Asinius stomped the fire out before taking a leather bag from the ground. Slowly, he walked up to the eagle and gently carried the eagle into the inside of the leather bag, which was covered with soft brackens and moss. When he made the eagle as comfortable as he could, Asinius carried the bag towards his horse and hang it on the side of his saddle. Hoisting himself onto his saddle, Asinius looked at the eagle through the gap of the leather bag and once again, feelings of guilt filled him.

“Homeward, old boy,” Asinius said to his horse and soon, the horse, the eagle and the alpha was beginning the slow journey to the town.

**Ludens** · 12-01-2005, 13:10

Have you missed out chapter 8?

The story is interesting, not in the least because of the interplay between Asinius and the eagle. However, I am still wondering what Asinius is doing. Is he a man with a purpose or is he just waging random war?

Please continue

.

**littlelostboy** · 12-01-2005, 22:44

Right now he's just waging a random war to live up to the image of his deceased father. He will be a man of purpose in the next part.

**littlelostboy** · 12-08-2005, 18:52

The Chapter "The Eagle and the Alpha" is suppose to be chapter 8. A typo. Sorry. Anyway, I'm back after a very very very busy week. Been churning out a few chapters too. Enjoy!

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Chapter 9 – The Fall of Trier – Part 1
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Winter 187BC

The army marched north again. The brutal wind assailing them from the mountains and sleet, thick sleet fell around the army. Slowly, the army trudged through the white storm. Mountains rose up from the ground and merged and blurred into the grey sky. Sometimes, they closed into the path until a legionary at the side could reach out and touch the cold, rocky wall. At other times, the mountains were so far away that they just seemed to be more than a background picture.

Asinius bended his head, shading his eyes from the sleet; his scarlet cloak wrapped tightly around him. The wind howled around his bright pink ears and each ragged breath he took in hardened and froze his trachea. In front of him, he could barely make out the outline of Pegasus head though he could hear the horse panting heavily. Asinius turned to look behind and saw that his men were trying to remain in their formations. However, it was difficult, with the wet rocks covered with snow, and with their heavy armour, the men kept slipping.

But slowly, the men moved on. The strength they got it from their iron-will determination. But it was just not that, for now they were deep into Britannia territory and on their west was Germania territory. Although the scouts had reported that the nearest town was three days march away, the whole army could feel the foreboding spirit of the barbarians watching them from the dark forests.

Squinting his eyes, Asinius peer ahead in the swirling gloom. Although he could still see nothing, he wanted to be on his guard at all times. In this deadly weather, it would make his army more vulnerable to any ambush from the Britons or even from the Germans.

“We should rest somewhere,” Lucius yelled above the howling wind, “the men are tired,”

“No, Trier is a big town, we have to catch them by surprise,” Asinius yelled back.

“There is a small mountain valley at the south of Trier,” Lucius yelled, “we could camp there for the night, it is not far,”

Asinius did not reply. The thought of camping for the night was tempting. Not only would his soldiers be refreshed for next day’s attack, he could also send small group of men into the town to explore the area. As Asinius was about to reply, he remembered what his cousin told him when campaigning in Spain. It was a popular story told to all young Juli adults, the story about how one foolish army encamped in a small narrow valley between the mountains and was trapped at the rear and the front and was slaughtered in a few hours by the Spanish. The night when his elder cousin told him the story, they were encamping at the border of Spain and Asinius was constantly watching the mountains nervously. That night, he could not sleep and kept his gladius beside him constantly.

“No, we might be trapped in the valley by the Britons or the Germans,” Asinius replied.

“But sir, the soldiers, they – ” Lucius said.

“We will camped in front of the town, Lucius,” Asinius interrupted, “ in this weather, the Britons will not be able to see us setting up our camp.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucius said.

Tramp, tramp, went the soldiers’ feet and the sound continued, filling the area again and again, dominating the woods and the mountain, bringing tales of terror, sorrow,

Trier was to fall in a day.

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Taximagulus stood near the wooden wall surrounding the town. The news from Samarobriva was troubling. Taximagulus knew the Romans forces well enough, having fought with the Senate on many occasions. For Samarobriva to fall in a day to the other Roman factions was understandable as they commanded some of the best and well-trained armies in the Mediterranean area; but for Samarobriva to fall to the Juli was impossible. Although the Juli faction had the largest army, half of the numbers were made up of barbarian mercenaries and the troops were poorly trained.

Now, news came on flooding to him about this Juli army that conquered a well-fortified town in a day. At first, Taximagulus wanted to send an army to wretch back the town from the filthy Romans’ hands. However, the Juli somehow negotiated with his father and there were soon uneasy peace between the two factions. At least Drusilla came back; his father was concerned about her and was about to move heavens to find her when she came shuffling into Trier.

A half-naked warrior covered in woad came up to Taximagulus. Beating his left chest with his right fist, he uttered a guttural sound.

“Any news?” Taximagulus asked.

“No, but many people from the surrounding lands are fleeing from an army. Rumours is said that there is a Juli army on a rampage,” the warrior replied.

Taximagulus sensed a sneer in the warrior’s voice but did not say anything. This was not the time to agree with the warrior on anything. He had to establish his role as a mighty leader and he did not want to give out any opinions.

“Have our spies seen any army,” Taximagulus asked.

“No,” the warrior replied.

“Okay, so how are the other warriors doing?”

“Restless for battle,” the warrior said, with another sneer in his voice.

“How is my sister?” Taximagulus ignored the sneer.

“She is fine, she is resting well,”

“Good, you can go back now,” replied Taximagulus

But the warrior refused to move. Instead he kept on standing beside Taximagulus as if waiting for something. Taximagulus ignored him, he hated this warrior; hated the way he behave and talk, he hated every fibre of the warrior. Though Taximagulus was the son of a great chief, this warrior treated Taximagulus with contempt. True, the warrior was one the greatest among Briton, but at least Taximagulus demanded some respect.

“Your sister is very beautiful, she is coming of age,” said the warrior.

“Well, then ask my father for her hand,” snapped Taximagulus. Instantly, the warrior stiffened. Taximagulus ignored the glare from the warrior and peered through the snow, hopping to see that annoying pest of the Juli army. As if with great reluctance, the warrior walked softly away. When Taximagulus was satisfied that the warrior was gone, he heaved a sigh of relief and desperation and soon the feeling of fear settled on his heart again.

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

Asinius paced around his fort, it had not stopped snowing for two days and Asinius thanked the gods for his good fortune. At least the Britons will not be able to see us, he thought.

He had forced the soldiers to remove their armour; for fear that the soldiers would make too much noises. He ordered the horses to be kept in a well-sheltered area and be given oats and kept comfortable and warm so as to quiet and calm the animals down. All fires were only allowed in the tents and only for a certain period. They were now close to the enemy and extreme precautions had to be taken.

Asinius breathed heavily, although the storm had passed, it was still snowing as heavily as before. Blessed the gods, though Asinius, at least the enemy would be taken by surprise.

“Are you all right?” Lucius appeared behind Asinius.
“No,” Asinius replied, his face set in a fierce mask of concentration.

“You know, when I was a young man like you, just fresh out of training, I was fortunate enough to be send to your father’s cohorts. One night, when I was guarding the fortress gate, your father passed by with a centurion and he said something,” Lucius paused as he adjusted his cloak around him. Taking in a painful breath of the cold air, he exhaled before continuing, “he said, ‘the barbarians are formidable, they fight in numbers. They are fierce, they have great spirits, they have bravery, and they have everything a Roman soldier could wish for. But they, they are like the eagles; the eagles have no companionship except their mates. The eagles fight alone.
“ ‘But we, we Romans are different. We fight in groups. We have companionship, we have trust among us; can you trust a barbarian? No, look at our mercenaries; they are constantly fighting among themselves. But we, descendants of Romulus, we are wolves, we fight in pack, we are Romans,’”

Asinius drank in every word Lucius told him. The painful memories of not being with his father during his death still cause his heart to ache. But still, somewhere, during Lucius’s narrative, he felt that something was wrong. Yes, the barbarians were just a mass of individual warriors. But still, as Asinius thought, can a wolf fight alone and how effectively? Yet, it was just a strand of thought and Asinius brushed it aside.

“Have my orders been conveyed throughout the whole camp?” asked Asinius.

“Yes, they are done,” replied Lucius.

“Lucius, I want four small groups of legionaries posted at each side of the camp. If they hear anything suspicious, they are not to alert the whole camp but they have to send one soldier to me,”

“Yes, my lord,” replied Lucius.

“Thank you for the story, Lucius,” Asinius said to the old soldier walking away. Slowly, the veteran turned around and gave a small smile before raising his right hand in the Roman salute.
************

The night passed uneventfully, or in Taximagulus’s case, it was quite an eventful night. As usual, he made his secret rounds and caught five warriors who were supposed to be on garrison duty, asleep. Angrily, he threw the warriors into the town’s prison as a punishment, only to find the warden sopping drunk. He threw the warden into prison with the warriors.

A small crack of light broke through the sky’s black curtains. Day was coming and soon, Taximagulus would receive news from his spies. Yet, all night, he had an uneasy feeling that would not go away. He kept going to the temple to pray to the gods for victory but somehow, his feelings never went away.
Taximagulus hurried. He wanted to go to temple before arousing and getting the warriors ready. Walking in fast steady steps, he walked through the quiet streets of the town before arriving at the temple that stood in the town centre. He was about to enter the temple’s grounds when something caught his eyes.

On the vast temple roof, an eagle lazily preened its feathers.

That’s odd, Taximagulus thought; there are no eagles in this area. Eyeing the eagle for a moment, Taximagulus ignored it before walking into the temple. A few moments later, Taximagulus was done with his prayer and petition to the gods. As he walked out of the temple, he cast an involuntarily look towards the roof and saw that the eagle was still there, watching him lazily from the corner of its round, golden eye.

Taximagulus stared at the eagle, he disliked the way the eagle stared at him, it seemed as if it was brining bad news to him. But the thing that he disliked the most was that the eagle’s eye reminded him of the eye of a dead warrior. Large and frozen and unmoving, that was how the eagle’s eye looked like.

Pesky animal thought Taximagulus and he continued walking through the streets. Some civilians were awakening and the weak sun had finally cracked through the lazy haze that was reluctantly parting. The low mud covered huts were soon emitting smoke from the centre of the roof, signs that mothers and wives were preparing breakfast. Taximagulus breathed in calmly, his fears gone, as if it went away with the night. There were no Roman army, there were no sounds or movement and all were safe.

Walking to one end of the street, Taximagulus entered a large wooden house that stood on a small hill. At least from here, he could survey the surrounding lands for hours. As he stood on the steps of his house, Taximagulus peered through the swirling snow and haze and tried to look out for any tangible evidence of an army.

“How was your round?” a voice spoke up behind him.

Taximagulus turned and saw his sister standing at the doorway, wrapped up in bearskin; a gift from her father. Ignoring Taximagulus, Drusilla stared at the sky, watching an eagle flying around the sun.

“How is your leg?” Taximagulus asked, not answering Drusilla’s question.

“It is better,” she replied.

Taximagulus turn his gaze to her leg; it was wrapped up in a white cloth with a stick stuck in it. The medicine man said that it would take a few months before the bones would heal back. But for now, Drusilla needed plenty of rest.

“Look at the eagle,” Drusilla raised her head to the sky.

“Yes, what is so special about it?” asked Taximagulus.

“At Samarobriva, I saw the same eagle,”

“How can you be so sure it is the same one?” asked Taximagulus.

“Was the eagle resting on the roof of the temple when you went there?” asked Drusilla.

Taximagulus was shocked. It seemed that whatever happened at Samarobriva, Drusilla knew. Something strange had happened there but too few refugees had escaped from that town to give Taximagulus enough information on what really happened. Watching the eagle flying in the sky, he had a strange apprehension that something wrong would happen today.

“Watch the eagle,” Drusilla said, “see how it flies around the sun a few times, soon it will stop and it will fly in another direction. Towards that direction, there, lies a Roman army.”

Taximagulus remained silent. He wanted to brush aside this absurd idea. However, as he look at Drusilla, there seemed to be a look of resignation on her face, as if Death had came to take her once again. His mind slowly drifted and looking at the eagle flying away from the sky, he played back a few words that he heard from the refugees a year before, about some thundering eagle. But then, the refugees could mean the legions standards. But somehow, Taximagulus had a small feeling of doubt in his heart.

“Drusilla, go, pack your things, take whatever you need, I want you to go back to our isle, go back to Father, go now,”

“What about the people here?” asked Drusilla.

“It is too late, even if I make all the people escape, they will be hack down by the Roman Army before they can even make it to the next town,” said Taximagulus.

“But you can’t leave…”

“No, I want you to go. If you die, Father will be heartbroken, and then he would be dispirited. It is dangerous to have a dispirited chief for Britannia, we could be wiped out by the Romans.”

“But…”

“No, go, go now! I will send some soldiers with you. You do not need to worry, just go, run to the nearest town and then board the earliest ship you can find and go back to the isle.”

Drusilla’s eyes brimmed with tears. The though of having to lose her brother to the Romans made her heart ached. Silently, she walked up to her brother before placing her hands on his rough cheeks. Taximagulus stood there, not moving. At last, he pulled a small copper ring from his finger and removed Drusilla’s hands from his cheeks.

“Keep this ring for me, at least, you have something to remember,” Taximagulus said.

“My leader!” A spy came running up the steps towards Taximagulus.

“What is it?” Instantly, Taximagulus changed from a soft brother to a hard leader.

“The Roman Army, it is here! In front of us! They are marching towards us,” cried the spy.

“How big is it?” asked Taximagulus.

“I do not know but it look big, it seemed as if they are bend on slaughtering the whole town.”

Instantly, Taximagulus turned to Drusilla and for a moment, both of them stared into each other eyes, knowing that they would never see each other again. With a great reluctance, Drusilla hobbled into the house.

“I want you to announce and call all warriors and all males,” Taximagulus informed the spy.

“Yes, great one,” the spy bowed before running to ring the bell.

So this was it, the second city to fall to the Thundering Eagle. As Taximagulus looked up the sky, he saw the eagle flying towards the direction of the Roman Army.

This is a very long part. But just enjoy the violence. cheers.
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Chapter 10 – The Fall of Trier – Part 2
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Asinius rode calmly on his horse, the eagle perched on his right shoulder, preening its feather. His vast army of legionaries was marching towards the unsuspecting town, announcing its doom. The face of every legionary was tense, awaiting for the battle that will soon start, the archers held an arrow in their bows, itching to shoot it into a stinking barbarian’s heart and the cavalry looked tensed and they had difficulties controlling their agitated horses.

Asinius reached out his left arm and stroked the eagle with his leather-covered hand. In fact, both his hands and arms were covered in leather, something unusual for a Roman commander. Stopping its preening, the eagle raised its head and looked at Asinius questioningly who stretched out his right hand. With a slight flutter of its wings, the eagle hopped onto the hand.

“You’re free to fly,” Asinius said to the eagle, “go now, go and hunt for your food.”

Without any further persuasion, the eagle raised its wings and with a leap, it flew into the white sky. Asinius watched the eagle, admiring its grace in the sky, the perfect way in which two different elements became one. Within a few flaps of its wings, the eagle was already soaring in the heavens, circling the golden sun that was the house of the god Apollo.

“It is a fine eagle,” Lucius said as they both watched the eagle flying away to the mountains.

“Yes,” said Asinius.

“Then why did you release it?” asked Lucius.

“I did not release it, the eagle is an independent animal and it need some time on its own, it will come back to me.”

“Hmm,” huffed Lucius, “those times you spent with that Briton animal trainer, I wonder how you can lead this battle.”

Turning, Asinius looked at his bodyguard with a twinkle in his eyes, “I assure you, Lucius, I am still as Roman as ever, nothing will change me.”

Lucius laughed and stared ahead toward the small town nestled in the forested valley. Slowly, his countenance changed and a grim look covered his laughing eyes. At the front line, the three usual units of barbarian mercenaries carried their battle rams, moving at a steady speed and chanting a rhythm song. As they near the wooden walls of the town, a sudden hail of javelins speed over the walls and into the units of mercenaries.
“Order the archers to fire at will!” Asinius yelled to his messenger.

“Yes, sir,” replied the messenger and kicking his horse, the messenger galloped towards the archers, waving a signal flag.

“FIRE AT WILL!” came the simultaneous roars from the three captains of the three units of archers. At once, a volley of arrows streak across the sky and over the wall and soon sounds of groans filled the area behind the walls.

“Order all three legionary cohorts to the left of the gate, two at the right of the gates, and the Urban cohort and Praetorian cohort to gates,” Asinius told Lucius.

Waving his hand, Lucius signal the messenger to raise the signal flags. Within minutes, the ground rattled its bones as all legionaries ran forward, standing just behind the mercenaries that were battering the walls down.

With an agonising slowness, the mercenaries raise the ram before releasing it and watching the wooden log crashed against the walls with a rock-breaking force. Overhead, the sky darkened as volleys after volleys of arrows flew above the infantry troops.

Slowly, the army waited, the soldiers’ blood had now reached to a boiling point and the fidgeted impatiently. With a steady rhythm, the rams continued their slow destruction of the walls. Fortunately the Britons ceased their fire but the Roman archers were still firing their potent sticks over the walls.

Then it happened.

With a great sigh, the wooden gates finally swung open under the deadly force of the ram. The walls on the right and left side of the gates collapsed in a dramatic fashion, with dust swirling the hazy air. Silently, the Romans waited for the enemy. The archers stopped firing, their bows all aimed at the exposed gaps of the walls, waiting, waiting for the enemy to rush out. The legionaries clenched their pilums, ready to hurl it at any barbarian’s throat. The cavalries behind Asinius waited impatiently and the horses whinnied and tossed their heads. Silence ran over the whole army, as if it were facing a formidable force of ghosts from the Underworld.

Silence and smoke in the air.

Silence and smoke in the air.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

“ARGHH!” yelled an enemy who was standing on a wooden cart harness to two horses.

“MARCH!” said a mercenary captain. Raising their spears, the mercenaries moved a few paces forward before lowing their spears onto the chariot.

Immediately, several spears impaled the driver and his eyeballs were gouged out. With the sound of life escaping from him, he slumped forward onto the horses that panicked and ran towards the other chariots behind.

“Signal the Praetorian Cohort forward,” said Asinius. Waving another signal flag, the messenger rode through the ranks of soldiers towards the Praetorian Cohort. Without wasting a moment, the cohort commander yelled an order and soon a hail of pilums swished over the head of the mercenaries and struck down the chariots. With a great cry rising from the cohort, the Praetorian rushed forward and began fighting the chariots with the mercenaries.

Asinius strategy and training had been put to good use. All the legionaries aimed from the deadly scythed wheels and destroyed the spokes of the wheels as soon as any chariots came near, thus disabling the fast, deadly vehicles immediately. With the drivers and soldiers on the chariots helpless, the mercenaries struck them with their spears.

At the right of the gate, a fierce embroiled had begun between the Briton swordsmen, woad warriors and the legionaries. Overhead of them, the arrows rained on the Britons, effectively wiping out a unit of swordsmen. However, the woad warriors let out a ferocious cry and charged at the legionaries.

Sword pitted against sword, men against men, blood spilled and dripped onto the saturated soil. One legionary swung his gladius onto a barbarian’s head with such force that blood spurt out from the barbarian’s nose and mouth and leak out from his ears. Without uttering a word, the warrior collapsed onto the ground. The legionary raised his gladius and let out a cry of victory, only to be beheaded by a swinging sword from a warrior.

Slowly, the legionaries were push back by the fierce fighting put up from the small number of woad warriors. Even though the mercenaries came to aid, many of the men were slaughtered by the onslaught of the woad warriors.

Then a sudden blow came from the Britons.

As the legionaries were slowly retreating under the heavy blow, a number of light chariots rushed at the legionaries, slicing some soldiers at the waist with their scythes. Panic rushed through the legionary cohorts like a bush fire and soon, the soldiers turned and fled for their lives.

“Send two units of cavalry!” Asinius said and the messenger raised a signal flag.

Horses whinnied and specks of saliva flew from the beasts as they snorted and rushed towards the chariots and the wrecking woad warriors. The cavalrymen roared and with a surge, the horses at the front made a leap and came crashing onto the woad warriors. One warrior was struck in the chest and collapsed under the weight of the animal. With a groan, he tried to get up, only to be throttled on by other horses. One particular hard blow burst his skull and his brains were scattered throughout the ground.

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Taximagulus watched the chaos from his chariot. Apprehension had first struck him as he saw the vast size of the army. But now, fear took hold of his heart and he stood mortified, not knowing how to prevent the slaughter caused by the Romans. He had sent his remaining chariots towards the right of the gate, where the battle was at least gaining ground. However, out of nowhere, numbers of Roman cavalry poured onto the chariots and the woad warriors and practically exterminate them.

“Retreat, retreat back to the square,” Taximagulus stared wide-eye at the ongoing bloodbath.

“Great one, but we have to…” a bodyguard asked.

“No,” interrupted Taximagulus, “no, we cannot save our warriors, they have to fight to the death. We need all our remaining forces to defend the square as long as we can.”

“But…”

“NOW!”

Without further hesitation, the bodyguard yelled an order and soon the remaining cavalry thundered away to the square, away from the shrieking madness that consumed every soldier and warrior at the walls.

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

Silence at once wash over the field; there was no more fighting. All the remaining Briton warrior and chariots had been killed. Hundreds of soldiers and warriors alike lay on the battlefield. Asinius surveyed the death scene. Although he kept a calm exterior, he was sick in the stomach and almost wanted to vomit at the sight of gore and carnage that lay before him. This was even worse that he could imagine.

“Send all soldiers into the town,” said Asinius.

“Yes, sir,” said Lucius and he waved towards the messenger who blew a horn. The cavalry trotted at a steady pace. Slowly, they gain momentum and soon, in a thunderous charge, the cavalry swept past the infantry troops and burst into the town square. Asinius dug his heels deep into his horse side. The feeling of sickness was slowly replaced by anger, anger and determination. Anger at how the Britons always broke the treaty with his father, determination in proving to his father that he, Asinius Commodus; son of the Legendary Infantryman, can be a worthy general.

With a lusty roar, Asinius surged ahead of the cavalry and streaking past the streets, he rode through the maze, ignoring all twists and turns, just concentrating on riding straight at full gallop and soon, Asinius saw the square.

He and Taximagulus locked their eyes on each other.

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

He stared at the Roman, first in fear and wonderment, then admiration before the feeling turned into a deep burning hatred. Was this not the Roman that lay waste to Samarobriva? Was this not the Roman that slain his cousin? Was this not the Roman that lay waste to miles of Briton land? Thoughts ran through Taximagulu’s mind and with a mighty roar, the enraged Briton whipped his horses with his reins and charged at the Roman with his chariots.

The Roman jerked his horse to the left and managed to escape from the scythes. Taximagulus roared in frustration and anger, not caring about his safety and swinging his chariot around, he drove the chariot towards the Roman again, who yet managed to avoid him. And so a personal battle took place against the backdrop of the raging cavalries from both sides.

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

Asinius eyed the Briton carefully. A few times, he managed to avoid the raging Briton. However, it was becoming increasingly harder as more and more horses swamped around him.

With measured patience, Asinius jerked his horse away from the Briton. But this time, as he passed by the chariot, he swung his gladius against one of the ropes tying one of the horses to the chariot. Immediately, the chariot became uncontrollably, with a roar, the Briton lunged at Asinius.

“Swished,” before the Briton could respond, Asinius struck the Briton in his chest, before withdrawing the dripping gladius. Slowly, the Briton sank into chariot and stared at the sky.

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

There was pain. But it was only fleeting pain. Taximagulus stared at the sky. Oblivious to the sound of his retreating warriors, to the sound of the victory cries from the Romans. Memories flashed past his eyes, the day when he first held his own sword, the day when he joined a campaign with his father, every moment, every smell, touch, sight and sound and memories flashed before him. Clenching his gold chain, Taximagulus thought of his family and with a whisper of goodbye, he breathed his last before slumping forward in his chariot.

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

“We are victorious!” cried Asinius and a cheer went up from his troops. Yet the words rang hollow and meant little to him. Looking at the Briton general in his chariot, Asinius’s heart wept at the man’s bravery, his heart wept at the carnage that at occurred, at the destruction that he caused. What happened to him that caused him to order the slaughter of so many courageous men? Looking at the sky, Asinius watched as the eagle glide around in the sky.

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

Drusilla looked back. She never saw the terrible battle or a brother’s death. But in her heart, he knew he was dead, probably killed by a legionary or cavalry. She heard the roars of the men, the clash of the armour against armour, swords against swords, and each time when a groan of pain was loud enough for her to hear, her heart broke and she wept.

Tears streamed down her eyes as she and her convoy made their way to the nearest Germanic port. Silently, she cried, not only for her Briton kinsmen, but also for her Roman kinsmen.