Order and Justice (4)
“Raaah!”
The rebel soldiers roared as they charged toward us. The sight of hundreds surging like a river was overwhelming, no matter how many times I saw it.
The moment the enemy reached us, Rikius shouted.
“Shields!”
At his command, the soldiers slammed their shields together as if they'd been waiting for it. Then the rebels' weapons hammered down on them.
Boom! Crack!
The rebels clashed their weapons, then shoved the shields with all their might. Our men dug their hobnailed boots into the ground to hold the line.
Nngh!
I saw the soldiers grimacing and bellowed.
“Hold! Hold your positions! Don't give an inch!”
Every time the rebel troops slammed into our shields, we were pushed back bit by bit. If the shield wall broke anywhere, we'd be slaughtered.
I rammed my sword into the dirt and braced the staggering soldiers with my own body.
We fought with desperate fury, knowing a few steps back meant death for us all. Then a shout rose from the rebels' ranks.
“Ain's over there! Kill the enemy commander!”
A few rebels who'd heard my earlier cry pointed me out.
The enemy attacked even harder at the call. Metal rang ceaselessly on our shields like hailstones.
“Your Excellency, the traitors keep coming.”
“I see them.”
“Shouldn't we break through instead?”
Rikius asked.
Break through.
In this moment, punching a hole through the surrounding foes made sense. If we didn't while we still had strength, we'd be butchered here.
But that was a choice for the short term.
I shoved a faltering soldier's back and said.
“No, that'd be suicide. We stand and fight right here.”
That way, more than half of us might survive. But showing our backs would boost the rebels' morale.
And our troops fighting atop the hill would see their commander retreat—their spirits would break, and we'd lose the battle.
“But—”
“Trust me. Our soldiers aren't weak.”
Rikius bit his lip at my words. The once-confident Praetorian commander was cowed by repeated defeats.
Hoping he'd regain his fire, I roared at the men.
“Hold for one hour! I swear by the golden eagle, if you do, victory will be yours. Eagles! Can you fight one hour for me?!”
“Awooo!”
The soldiers answered with savage roars.
We pushed and shoved against the rebels, clinging to life with grim tenacity. Then arrows rained down from above.
We blocked the attacks right in front of us while watching the skies. Limbs grew heavy, stamina ebbed.
I sent a weary soldier to the rear and stepped forward.
“Your Excellency?”
One soldier gaped at me.
“Eyes front, not on me. I'm just another soldier holding the line beside you.”
I aligned with him, bolstering the front.
Thud!
The rebels shoved again.
I withstood their pressure, peering through shield gaps at the foe.
The rebels seemed dead set on finishing us first, funneling every nearby soldier our way before tackling the hill.
Smart move. Leaving us alive would disrupt their cleanup.
I spotted banners approaching from the third galley I hadn't crushed earlier.
They bore crescent moons—symbols rejecting the empire's sun worship.
I scowled at the flags, then at the rebels beneath.
Their commanders?
No time to look closer. Another rebel push demanded all my strength to hold.
“Your Excellency!”
Rikius called.
I turned, and he yelled.
“They're bringing cauldrons!”
“What?”
Before I could react, rebels slung leather pouches over their shoulders and hurled them onto our shields.
Whoosh—boom!
The pouches weren't heavy, but when they burst, soldiers hacked and coughed.
I rubbed soot from my eyes and realized what they'd thrown.
Half-burnt coals. Clever bastards.
Their improvisation was impressive. We'd used smoke against them; now they hit us with ash.
Coal dust stung the eyes—perfect for close combat.
“Agh!”
The situation soured fast. Men rubbed their eyes, stances faltered.
The rebels exploited the gap, slashing mercilessly.
“Kill the empire's pigs!”
Rebels bellowed, pouring into the breach. We tried to plug it, but there were too many.
They shoved shields aside, splitting our line. The formation crumbled in seconds.
“Watch each other's backs! Fear no enemy!”
I roared, clashing blades with a rebel.
His blade halted a handspan from my throat. The scarred soldier grinned wickedly.
“We've won.”
“We'll see.”
I smashed my elbow into his ribs. He staggered back, pressing his sword harder.
I spun, deflecting his blade. It plunged into the earth; I stomped the flat with my boot, then kneed his face.
Broken teeth flew from his mouth.
I swung to finish him, but a shout made me dodge—a blade whistled past.
I wiped sweat from my brow.
Once the wall broke, we fought outnumbered in melee.
Our legionaries' superior quality kept us alive against rabble; otherwise, instant annihilation.
Still, minutes from doom.
I bit my lip seeing crested helmets litter the ground—legionary pride.
But I didn't regret my call.
A charge would've let them flank the main legion, deciding the fight.
I'd countered their ploy best I could. If death followed, so be it.
Gasping, I shouted to the men.
“Proud eagles of the empire! Victory is near. Even if death beckons, stand firm. If you fall today, it'll be in glorious Valhalla, hall of warriors!”
“We'll die for the empire!”
The soldiers screamed.
We battled in utter disadvantage. Seeming like we'd last five minutes, we held nearly ten. Their fight exceeded my hopes.
Blood poured from a sword gash on my shoulder, but I gripped tight.
I wanted to endure to the last breath.
Then faint unrest stirred the rebels, shouts rippling like waves.
“The imperial army's coming!”
Our men cheered.
“Brothers are here! Long live Imperator Ain! The empire triumphs!”
Exhausted troops summoned superhuman strength sensing the tide turn.
Men who could barely hold weapons swung shields and hurled blades. Rebels flailed in retreat.
“Your Excellency! Rikius is coming.”
I nodded, hand on my wounded shoulder.
“I see him.”
Far off, the proud Atillca legion standard flew, our soldiers raging like lions beneath.
Rebels scattered like locusts fleeing summer flames.
I watched my men pursue, then stabbed my sword into the ground as a crutch and stood.
I ached to collapse, but with soldiers still fighting, the commander couldn't slack.
As I eyed the fleeing foe, Rikius approached and tore his cloak.
“Your Excellency, let me tend your wound.”
“Thanks.”
“This one first.”
I let him bind my shoulder.
By the time he finished, the battle was decided. From hilltop to lakeside, thousands of corpses lay strewn.
The once-mighty rebels were gone without trace.
I surveyed the corpse-choked field with a bitter smile.
“Graike province folk won't drink the capital's water for a while.”
Rikius tied off the cloth at my quip.
“But seeing blood flow there might cure rebel sympathies. They'll cling to life.”
Made sense. Blood in the capital could be a mercy.
I stared at the blood-red lake and capital, dulling the pain.
As Rikius secured the bandage, soldiers dragged prisoners forward.
Glancing over, I frowned—mostly women.
“Who are these?”
“Traveling with the rebels.”
Rebel families, probably.
I pondered.
Empire policy: execute all rebels, man, woman, child. Only then do they fear uprising.
But these rebels were mostly slaves. Slaughtering them all would cripple state mines and olive groves.
Make an example?
Or spare for the empire's ravaged economy?
No easy choice.
As I wavered, Rikius hauled in a one-eyed man.
I knew instinctively: rebel leader Oclock.
“You Oclock?”
“His Excellency asks. Answer.”
Rikius kicked him to his knees.
“Yeah.”
Oclock drawled.
“Where'd you catch him?”
“Fled the hill fight; nabbed him lakeside.”
“Heard you're ex-gladiator. Where'd you learn imperial tactics?”
“Picked it up along the way.”
“This bastard—?”
I gestured to stop Rikius's scabbard swing.
Oclock smirked.
“If luck had held, I'd have your head. Pity.”
“Even lucky, impossible. The legion's tougher than you think.”
“Then why'd you lose to me twice?”
Oclock sneered.
“I respect your skill. But you didn't break the legion. And you lost to the one you thought beaten. Right?”
“Luck.”
“Proud one. One question: why rebel?”
He spat.
“Simple. Comrades got swept up, killed imperials and officials. Knew they'd die if left alone—couldn't stand by. Worthless lives anyway; used 'em for brothers. That's it.”
He carried himself like a man. No wonder rabble followed him.
“I see.”
I closed my eyes.
Followers like these, or his family—could rise for revenge later.
So.
Kill them all.
For the empire.
I steeled myself.
“Rikius.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Kill them all.”
“The slaves—”
“Doesn't matter. Rebel or civilian, hang every traitor on crosses. Show defiance means death.”
I turned from Oclock and the prisoners.
(To be continued)