Eagle in the Snow: A Novel of General Maximus and Rome's Last Stand

In the centre the Vandals came at a run in a dense mass. The bolts of the carroballistae ripped great gaps in their ranks, but did not stop them. The fighting ranks stepped forward and flung their javelins, one after one; nine arrow flights went home; but they still came on over the bodies of their dead; and there was a tremendous shock and clash of arms as the two lines of infantry met. Our line bent for a moment and then held. For over half an hour a fierce struggle went on, with neither side giving way, and then Quintus fell on their right flank with seven hundred horse. A minute later, Fabianus attacked the left, just as Scudilio’s men were beginning to tire; and the Vandal wings crumpled as men began to throw away their weapons and run. I signalled my bodyguard to mount, and then led them round to the right, intending to reinforce Fabianus. At this moment, the Franks under Fredegar broke under the weight of the Marcomanni, who had been strengthened by reserves pouring from their camp. The Marcomanni began to close in upon the rear of Quintus’ wing, which was now almost at a standstill in the midst of a vast, struggling mass of screaming, shouting men. The din was appalling. I shouted, my trumpeter saw my mouth move and blew the two blasts that meant “change direction.” I wheeled round and crossed the rear of our centre just as the Marcomanni, mingling with the Vandals, were beginning to fall upon it. My men heard us coming and fell back quickly as we poured through the gap in our line and charged home. It was a tight, controlled, compact charge, and the enemy broke and gave way before us. At my order, the trumpet sounded again, and the front line disengaged and fell back, reforming as it did so. The enemy, glad of a breathing space, did the same. They also had had enough for the moment.

I said to Quintus, “Don’t charge home into a mass that size. It’s like trying to drive your fist through a barrel of glue. Ride round them and cut them down on the perimeter.”

He wiped the sweat from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought it was worth a try.” He hammered the pommel of his sword angrily. “With only two more alae I could have broken them into pieces.”

I said patiently, “If we go on like this, it is we who will break into pieces.”

There was a long lull in the fighting, while the wounded went to the rear, and the men’s wounds stiffened in the cold. I issued a ration of biscuit and vinegar to all ranks, and two hours later we tried again. I pulled Fredegar’s Franks back into line with the left wing of the archers, split my reserves into two halves and pushed them out towards the wings, and then ordered the whole line to move forward until contact was established with the cavalry. In this way we gained about four hundred yards of ground, while the enemy watched us from a distance and made no move. Then I ran the carroballistae forward and they opened fire at two hundred yards, supported by a screen of bowmen who had instructions to fire into the air, so as to drop their arrows into the enemy centre. As the nine inch bolts tore through men’s stomachs, and smashed ribs and backbones at a single blow, the Vandals fell back sullenly. I ordered the advance, and the cohorts’ first waves moved out at a trot. The two lines met, wavered and again held. The enemy cavalry waited on the flanks, watching our horse, while we goaded them with arrow fire from the wings. I sounded the trumpet, and Fredegar and Scudilio moved out to take the enemy on the flanks. More men were pouring out of their camp now and forming up on the rear of their centre. The carroballistae on my wings now opened fire and an enemy horseman went down at every shot. Angered into action they moved outwards to where my cavalry stood waiting patiently for my order. I waited till they were well clear of their main body, and then ordered the trumpet to be sounded. Our cavalry charged, and within three minutes it was all over. Half the Vandals were unhorsed and dead, the other half was in flight back to the camp. With no horse to oppose them, the two alae, led by Quintus and Fabianus, fell upon the enemy’s flanks and began to ride round the Vandals, working their way in, closer and closer to the centre. Slowly my front line began to move forward again. Still more men came streaming across the plain to help the enemy host. They were principally bowmen, and, from their position at the rear, they began to fire inwards, regardless of whether they struck our horse, or their own foot. Our men, who had fought all day in grim silence, now began to shout, as though they sensed that victory was within their grasp.