"Iggulden, Conn - Emperor 3 - The Field of Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Iggulden Conn)

The Helvetii fought with desperate ferocity, trying to get back to their main column, now unprotected behind the Roman legions. Those who were not in the front lines milled like bees at the edges, spreading farther out onto the plain. Julius countered with a wider and then wider front, until he had his four legions in a line only six deep, sweeping all before them.
For a time, Julius could not see much of the battle. He fought as a foot soldier with the others and wished he had stayed on some high outcrop to direct the fighting.
Brutus spread the Tenth and Third wide to cut off a retreat, and both legions hacked their way through while the sun rose and baked them. Boys ran amongst the ranks with leather bags of water for those who had drunk the ration they carried, and still they fought on.
Julius ordered the last two spears his men carried to be thrown blind. On the flat ground, many of them were sent back as fast as they were thrown, but the soft iron heads had bent on impact and they flew poorly, with little strength. Julius saw a man only feet from him reach up to bat one away as it spun at him and Julius heard his arm crack. He began to realize the Helvetii would fight to the last man and summoned the most senior of the Ariminum generals to him.
General Bericus arrived looking calm and fresh, as if they were engaged in nothing more difficult than a training maneuver.
"General," Julius said, "I want you to take a thousand men and attack the column behind us."
Bericus stood slightly stiffer at the order. "Sir, I do not believe them to be a threat. I saw only women and children as we passed."
Julius nodded, wondering if he would regret having such a decent man leading his soldiers.
"Those are my orders, General. However, you have my permission to make as much noise as you can during the disengage."
For a moment, Bericus looked blank, then his lips twitched in understanding.
"We'll shout like maniacs, sir," he said, saluting.
Julius watched him go and called a messenger to him.
"Tell the extraordinarii they are free to attack as they see fit," he said.
As soon as Bericus reached his lines, Julius saw them shift as the commands were passed down the chain of authority. In only a short while, two cohorts had detached from the battle and their places in the lines were filled. Julius heard them roar as they turned and began a deliberate march back to attack the column. Bericus had taken horns with him and the cornicens kept up a constant racket until there was not a man on the plain who was not aware of the threat they posed.
At first, the warriors of the Helvetii fought with renewed energy, but the extraordinarii had resumed their scything strikes on the wing and Roman discipline held the wild charges of the tribesmen. Suddenly they were despairing, dreading the sight of the legion lines cutting into the naked column.
A distant cheer went up and Julius craned to see the cause. He ordered the maniples to rotate the velites back to the front and went with them, gasping with weariness. How long had they been fighting? The sun seemed to have frozen overhead.
The cheering intensified on the left wing, but though it brought him hope, Julius found himself faced with two men who were using their shields to batter the Roman line. He had a glimpse of a mouth ringed in white spittle before he lunged forward and felt his gladius sink into flesh. The first fell screaming and Mark Antony cut his throat as they marched over him. The second was knocked from his feet by a legionary and Julius heard his ribs crack as the soldier dropped his weight onto a knee, caving in the chest. As the legionary stood, the Helvetii threw down their weapons in a great crash that stunned the ears and stood, panting and dazed. Julius ordered the halt with grim pleasure and looked back over the plain to the mass of bodies left behind them. There was more flesh than grass and only the two Roman cohorts moved over the red ground.
A great low wail went up from the column of followers as they saw the surrender, and again Julius heard cheering, recognizing it now as the voices of the Tenth and Third. Julius took the bronze horn from the nearest cornicen and blew a falling note to stop Bericus before he could begin his attack. They halted in perfect formation as the sound carried to them, and Julius smiled. Whatever else went against him, he could not complain at the quality of the legions he commanded.
Julius paused then, removing his helmet and turning his face into the breeze. He sent the call for centurions and optios to gather the men back into their units. It had to be done quickly and sometimes brutally, if the surrender was to hold. Army tradition held that the slave price of captured enemy soldiers would be shared between the legions, which tended to prevent massacres of those who surrendered. Yet in the battle rage, Julius knew many of his legionaries would think nothing of cutting down an unarmed foe, especially if that man had just wounded them. Julius had the cornicens sound the halt over and over until it penetrated and some semblance of order began to come back to the plain.
Spears and swords were collected and removed from the battlefield, guarded by the extraordinarii as they reassembled. The Helvetii warriors were made to kneel and had their arms tied behind them. Those who asked were given water by the same boys who served the legions, and Julius began to gather them into lines of prisoners, moving amongst his men, congratulating where it was due and simply being seen.
The legionaries walked with stiff pride as they surveyed the numbers of prisoners and dead. They knew they had beaten a far larger force, and Julius was pleased to see one of his men calling a water boy over to a bound warrior, holding the bronze pipe to his lips for him.
As Julius passed through them, assessing the losses, the Romans stared in the hope of catching his eye, and when they were successful they nodded as respectfully as children.
Brutus came cantering up on a horse he had found, its rider amongst the dead.
"What a victory, Julius!" he called, leaping from the saddle.
The soldiers around him gestured and whispered to each other as they recognized his silver armor, and Julius grinned at the awe in their faces. He had thought wearing the silver into battle was dangerous, given that the metal was so much softer than good iron, but Brutus had kept it, saying it raised the men's spirits to fight with the best of a generation.
Julius chuckled at the memory.
"I was pleased to see you on the plain. I can't tell you," Brutus said.
Julius looked sharply at him, sensing the question. A smile played about his lips as he called for the scout to be summoned, and Brutus raised his eyebrows when he saw the miserable Roman with his hands tied as tightly as the prisoners. The young man had been forced to march with the legions, an optio's staff thudding into his back every time he slowed. Julius was pleased he had survived, and with the glow of victory on him, he decided against having the man whipped as he almost certainly deserved.
"Untie him," Julius said to the scout's optio, who did so with a swift jerk of a knife. The scout looked as if he was close to tears as he struggled to stand to attention before his general and the winner of the sword tournament in Rome.
"This young gentleman brought me a report that the enemy had taken the hill I ordered you to climb. In the darkness, he mistook two good Roman legions for a mass of tribesmen."
Brutus broke into a guffaw of delighted amusement. "You didn't fall back? Julius, that is . . ." He broke off to laugh and Julius turned a mock severe expression on the desolate young scout.
"Have you any idea how difficult it is to build a reputation as a tactical genius if I am seen retreating from my own men?" he asked.
"I am sorry, sir. I thought I heard Gaulish voices," the scout stammered. He was flushed with confusion.
"Yes, that would have been my lot," Brutus said cheerfully. "That is why you carry a password, son. You should have called before haring home."
The young scout began to smile in response and Brutus's expression changed instantly.
"Of course, if you'd delayed the attack much longer, I would be taking a skinning knife to you."
The sickly grin died on the scout's face.
"Three months' pay docked and you scout on foot until your optio is certain you can be trusted with a horse," Julius added.
The young man breathed out in relief, not daring to look at Brutus as he saluted and left. Julius turned to Brutus and they shared a smile.
"It was a good plan," Brutus said.
Julius nodded, calling for a horse. As he mounted, he looked over the battlefield, seeing the beginnings of order return as Roman wounds were stitched and splinted and bodies readied for funeral pyres. He would have the worst of the wounded taken back to the Roman province for treatment. The armor of those who had died would be sold off for replacements. The gaps left by dead officers would be filled by promotions from the ranks, signed by his hand. The world was turning the right way up and the heat of the day was beginning to fade.

CHAPTER 24

Julius sat on a folding stool in the great tent of the Helvetii king and drank from a golden cup. The mood was light amongst the men he had summoned. The Ariminum generals in particular had been drinking heavily from the king's private stores, and Julius had not stopped them. They had earned the right to rest, though the work ahead was still daunting. Julius had not appreciated at first how large a task it would be simply to catalogue the baggage, and the night was loud with the sound of soldiers counting and piling the Helvetii possessions. He had sent Publius Crassus with four cohorts to begin retrieving spears and weapons from the battlefield. It was not a glorious task, but the son of the former consul had gathered his men quickly and without fuss, showing something of his father's ability for organization.
By the time the sun was edging toward the far west, the spear shafts of the Tenth and Third had been returned to them. Many of the heavy iron heads were twisted into uselessness, but Crassus had filled Helvetii carts with them, ready to be repaired or melted down by the legion smiths. By a twist of fate, one of the cohorts had been commanded by Germinius Cato, promoted after Spain. Julius wondered if the two men ever considered the enmity of their fathers behind their polite salutes.
"Enough grain and dried meat to feed us for months, if it doesn't spoil," Domitius said with satisfaction. "The weapons alone are worth a small fortune, Julius. Some of the swords are good iron, and even the bronze ones have hilts worth keeping."
"Any coin?" Julius asked, eyeing the cup in his hand.
Renius opened a sack at his feet and brought out a few rough-looking disks.
"What passes for it here," he said. "A silver and copper mix. Hardly worth anything, though there are chests of them." Julius took one and held it up to the lamp. The circle of tarnished metal had a piece cut out of it, reaching right to the middle.