I'm sorry I've left this unatended for so long. Yet I've gone further with the timeline and I hope I'll please you with those first following chapters :
Near Priscul, Dacia Inferior, 118 CE
The battle was going badly. The Roxolani had not many horse archers, but most of their infantry carried a bow. They had heavy cavalry to cover the archers, ready to cut off any roman attempt to attack the archers, and no centurion was crazy or inexperienced enough to try such a feat. Thus the legions were suffering under the rain of arrows, main being cut down despite the shields and armors they wore.
Voltinius remembered the famous Greek quote about fighting in the shade of the Persian arrows, and felt it was quite appropriate: sometime the volleys of projectile were so dense as to filter the light of Sol Invictus himself.
Of course the Romans were not idly standing under arms. Keeping their inferior cavalry in reserve, they had adopted a slightly bulging line, so as to prevent encirclement by the enemies. Ditches with sharp banks going back to the camp’s walls did also help to prevent a flank attack, but the main strength of the Romans sat with their field artillery.
Carrobalistae were an innovation of the defunct Trajanus and were, for all purpose, a light ballista mounted on the back of a chariot that did also carry ammunitions for the weapons. Mounted as they were, the weapons could shoot above the heads of the legionaries, striking deep into any enemy formation daring enough to try to close the distance with the infantry. If the enemy came into range…
They’d done so twice now, heavy cavalry charges on the right and left flanks designed to terrify the Romans and make them flee, turning around just before hitting the infantry lines. The Roxolany knew well from experience that any attempt to go to contact with their huge kontos lance would lead to their demise: the heavily armored cavalrymen would not have the opportunity to strike many infantrymen while those would be able to unseat them, effectively making them almost paralyzed by the weight of the very armor that made them so fearful when on horseback.
The two failed attempt had left about fifty horsemen lying on the ground, some alongside their dead or dying mounts. The sounds of the wounded, both men and animals, could be heard even in the center of the Roman line, alongside the cries of the wounded Romans themselves.
It was a stalemate. It was clear to everyone that the Romans would not move from their carefully prepared positions. Still the Romans had access to the river, so they could get fresh water. Also they had enough food with them for about half a month. And they did not have to worry about a second army catching them in the back in the middle of a battle, a possibility made more credible for the Roxolani by every passing day. That, at least, was the message Voltinius gave to his men to give them confidence.
The fighting stopped for a moment, both sides staying on their positions. The battle was not finished for the day, just paused so that everyone could evaluate the situation. Wounded were brought to the rear of the roman lines, formations were tidied, flasks of watered wine passed around with some bread.
While the Romans thus rested, the Roxolani decided they had no choice. Caught between frustration and strategic concerns, they would have to break through the center of the Roman line, flood between the camp and the legions and kill everyone they would meet there or they would be the one defeated. Four waves of a thousand warriors each would be sent in succession against the Romans, the weight of the horses hopefully being able to open a way toward the Roman’s rear.
Of course Voltinius did not know it yet. He was amongst his men, making sure they had drunk and eaten something. In the sky the sun had finally lifted above the clouds, darting his hot rays on the ranks of waiting men. Half of the day had already been spent.
Suddenly a great cry arose, the ground started to shake as a thousand horses started to gallop toward the roman legions. Tubae sounded the recall for the legionaries. Hurriedly soldiers took back their positions, holding their shields together to make a wall of wood designed to deter the enemy horses.
Commanding officers looked above their shield’s rim despite the danger of a stray arrow, waiting for a sign. Then the piercing sound of the bronze trumpets sounded once more and the roman army went backward one step, then another, as if shrinking and trying to escape the shock of cavalry.
The ranks parted slightly, revealing wooden poles between the retreating men , a first and then a second line of young trees cut and planted into the ground during the night in pre-planned holes which the Roxolani had not seen, the legions being in place early enough in the morning to deny them any view on the defenses. After half a dozen step the soldiers stopped and once more dressed their ranks, their officers smiling at them: their ruse had worked.
It had been an idea of Voltinius, born of previous experience with the horsemen's tribes. The Roxolani saw the threat appear in front of them but it was already too late: the speed and mass of their horses meant they could not turn in time, could not slow, could not get back : the horses came straight on the sharpened poles, rearing in front of them or impaling themselves, throwing their heavily armored owners on the ground where the weight of their leather and metal armors prevented them from getting back on their feet.
Dying horses made an awful noise while thrashing on the ground, crushing the men lying alongside them while Roman spears tried to mercifully end their pain. Blood flowed everywhere, wetting the ground to the point where the poles crashed down, the Romans losing their protection. But it did not matter: the surviving Roxolani were now fleeing toward their main army whose leaders were already turning around. The legions would survive the day.
.
