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POV of a Roman soldier
Anno Domini, 832-March-24
I could hear the breathing of everyone near me while the sound of our boots echoed across the paved road as we moved at the combat marching pace they had been training us to maintain, keeping a steady advance and holding our line rigid while I noticed that the mercenaries' formation was beginning to fragment slightly, with the center farther forward than the flanks.
''Spears ready'' the kentarchos shouted as he raised his spear while leading the vanguard.
At the order I extended my spear like everyone else while we pressed our shields together, presenting a solid wall of shields.
As we kept moving and my breathing sounded louder the farther we advanced, we saw several of the enemy mercenaries hurl a number of axes at us.
''Shields'' several of the officers shouted as we all raised our shields and I felt something slam into mine, followed by pressure against the arm where the shield was strapped to my forearm.
An axe had buried itself in the wood of my shield and although I shook it while continuing to keep pace, there was little I could do to pull it free because our formation was too tightly packed for me to remove it from the shield, since doing so would mean stepping out of formation.
So I simply had to keep advancing, now with the added problem of extra weight on my shield while the Carolingian mercenaries were practically in our faces.
''Fight, for Rome, use what you were taught'' the kentarchos roared as he prepared himself to fight.
The sound of our spearheads and shafts rang out as they struck against one another and it did not take long before the entire battle was filled with the sound of spearheads striking shields and burying themselves into wood.
I began thrusting my spear at the men in front of me, trying to guide it into whatever openings I could see in the enemy formation, aiming wherever my opponents lacked armor and trying to strike their legs whenever I could, taking advantage of the fact that their shields did not cover as much of their bodies as ours did.
I constantly felt blows striking my shield as enemy spears tried to reach me but following the training that had practically become our entire lives recently, I kept most of my body protected behind the shield, exposing as little of myself as possible and only moving to thrust at anyone who stepped outside the protection provided by the man beside him.
We fought like that for some time and it almost seemed as though nothing was happening. Sometimes we pushed forward a little, forcing the mercenaries back and at other times we were the ones forced to retreat whenever our cohesion began to break.
All the while I felt enormous pressure in my stomach because I had no real idea of what was happening beyond the splinters flying everywhere and the feeling of sweat pouring off me from all the effort I was putting into fighting the mercenaries.
While concentrating on avoiding being struck, I saw an opening when one man stepped too far forward with his leg while trying to run one of my companions through with his spear, so I immediately took advantage of it and thrust my spear into his leg.
And that was the first scream of pain accompanied by blood, since until then everything had been blows against armor.
My spear remained buried in my opponent's leg and I pulled hard, trying to rip it free from where it had lodged while attempting to deliver a finishing blow to his neck but when he fell to the ground, two men immediately closed the gap with their shields and pointed their spears toward us while others grabbed the wounded man by the shoulders and dragged him back through their ranks.
I received several blows against my shield while the companions on either side of me helped prevent too many enemies from focusing on me.
I felt a terrible chill running down my back as the fighting continued. Again and again the battle carried on in the same way and by then it seemed to have lasted forever.
Splinters continued flying but it did not seem as though we could gain the upper hand against these mercenaries at all, since the fight appeared evenly matched while the shouts of our officers occasionally ordered us to push or fall back together in order to match the rhythm of the Carolingian troops, whose own side was also filled with countless shouted orders.
For a few seconds both formations disengaged from the fighting as both sides stepped backward and at that moment the kentarchos ordered a complete rotation of the troops, bringing the rear ranks of our formation to the front while the rest of us moved toward the rear.
Taking advantage of that brief respite, I moved into the fourth combat line while the second line of our formation took over the vanguard and I was finally able to breathe a little more easily.
''Shit, I'm completely soaked'' I said between heavy breaths while looking at my companions, who had dents in several parts of their armor and shields battered by the blows they had taken.
''Tell me about it… I think I'm going to vomit'' my brother said as he tried to pull away part of the armor covering his mouth while watching someone beside him throw up.
''If you're going to vomit, do it quickly, the fighting is still going'' I said while raising my head to watch the battle and resting against my shield as I observed the fighting resume. It seemed that the mercenaries had been unable to carry out the same rotation we had managed, meaning their vanguard was now fighting against fresh troops.
I remained there watching while trying to calm my breathing and suppress the feeling in my stomach that made me want to vomit before taking my place in formation again as the battle continued.
Until eventually I began to see that our opponent's formation was giving way on the right side and I started hearing screams of pain coming from that direction.
While I tried to see what was happening, a dekarchos stepped out of the formation.
''You, quickly, with me. Swords, now. We're going around the formation'' the officer said while pointing toward those of us who had been resting.
Without saying a word I drew my sword from my belt knowing that I would have to fight those men hand to hand during a flanking maneuver.
I walked toward our officer along with everyone else while several men tried to put the armor covering their faces back into place after emptying their stomachs.
The dekarchos sounded a trumpet and we began moving quickly along the right side, watching as the battle turned increasingly bloody. There were already dead men from both sides and part of the formation had broken apart, turning into individual fighting between the troops at the front and it seemed that we were losing against the superior skill of those mercenaries.
Flanking along the right side of our formation under the leadership of the dekarchos, we were forced to push against the weakened flank of the mercenaries, making them defend themselves with everything they had against the pressure we were concentrating on a single point while more troops from the Carolingian rear tried to move against us.
Putting my weight behind my shoulder, I slammed hard into my opponent's shield after hearing a spear strike nearby and with my own shield I quickly saw that my opponent had been thrown off balance. Desperately I went for his neck, searching for a killing blow.
But I felt a powerful impact against my forearm that nearly made me drop my sword and saw that a mercenary standing beside the man I was about to kill had stopped me by striking me with an axe.
I stepped back while gritting my teeth at the pain in my hand, which fortunately had been nothing more than a light blow absorbed by the armor.
While I looked at my hand, our dekarchos slit a mercenary's throat while striking another one with his shield.
That left the man who had struck me caught between the dekarchos and me while the dekarchos was trying to break our opponents' formation.
Although my feet felt cold and nervousness had my hands trembling, I gritted my teeth and faced the mercenary, who kept constantly looking between me and the dekarchos as the officer began moving around him while his companion tried to get back to his feet.
A high swing of the dekarchos's sword was enough to draw the mercenary's attention and I quickly took advantage of it, driving my sword into the neck of the mercenary who was on the ground trying to stand and who unsuccessfully tried to protect himself with his shield. I watched the blade sink into his neck and his eyes fill with fear as he saw my blade pierce through him.
And I simply stared at him as I pulled the blade free and blood began pouring out while the mercenary collapsed onto his side when my sword came out completely covered in blood.
Focused on that gruesome sight, I took an axe blow to the chest. I felt my armor absorb the impact and the force travel through my entire body. I quickly focused again when the other mercenary tried to kill me while I was distracted, although the dekarchos immediately threw himself at him, shoving him with his shield and repeatedly swinging his sword toward his face. Whenever the mercenary tried to block with his shield, the dekarchos threw his entire body and shield against him until he knocked him off balance while trying to cut at his legs.
Shaking my head, I rushed to attack the man who was focused on trying to hold the mercenary formation together and he was forced to turn to face me.
I tried to imitate the dekarchos, but I was nowhere near his level of skill and most of the time I only managed to annoy him, until one of my companions drove his spear into my opponent's thigh from behind. I immediately struck him in the face with my shield and sent him crashing to the ground.
Within seconds, the mercenary formation began to collapse completely before ours and many of them started fleeing, abandoning their positions and leaving those who were still fighting for their lives on their own while some were already throwing away their shields so they could run from the battlefield.
''Those fucking mercenaries certainly gave us trouble'' the kentarchos said, covered in a layer of blood as he looked toward the dekarchos, who was wiping his sword on the clothes of one of the men he had killed.
''These recruits are far too green. They can hold formation, but the moment the formation breaks they cannot do much against professional warriors like mercenaries'' the dekarchos said while wiping the chain mail covering his face.
''Leave the loot on the ground and tend to the wounded. If there are enemy wounded who cannot walk, finish them off. We have no time to waste treating their wounds. We have to march. We need to keep advancing as soon as possible and continue taking ground for the main body of the army'' the kentarchos said before roaring and driving his sword into a mercenary who was trying to crawl away from him. I heard the blade pass through his neck before he twisted it.
Taking one of the mercenaries' spears and following my officer's orders, I quickly began finishing off the wounded while my companions subdued those who had surrendered and we tried to save our own wounded.
Although I stopped for a moment and stared at one wounded mercenary who was trying to crawl away. He began begging me in a language I did not understand until a shout from my officer snapped me out of my hesitation and I drove the spear into whatever part of his body seemed least likely to damage the armor. I repeated the process with the wounded nearby.
Our unit split again, leaving ten men behind with an officer while the rest of us continued advancing, since apparently it was extremely important that we keep moving forward and taking villages.
While we were marching, it did not take long before we saw a group of horsemen raising large clouds of dust.
There was some nervousness as we formed up against cavalry, but we soon saw the Roman standard waving among the ranks of the approaching riders.
''Looks like you've seen some fighting, Roman'' one of the horsemen said. He wore some kind of Slavic armor and had chain mail covering his face.
''Yes, a group of Carolingian mercenaries blocked our path along the road, but we defeated them. If you hurry, they should still be retreating'' our kentarchos said while pointing down the road.
''Hmm… I thought they were mercenaries who had come over to our side. Apparently, an important mercenary band has accepted a contract from our commander and we thought it was them. We'll deal with them. We have already scouted the area, so there should not be any more dangers ahead'' the Slav said while taking a bow and arrows from their quiver before beginning to ride down the road with his horsemen.
''On the march. We have to make up for the time we lost fighting'' the kentarchos said.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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