side without being seen; that when they attacked they would causecomplete panic; that the Romans who emerged before them would be too terrified to fight back.
Suddenly, Mutt’s attention was focused on a shout that was cut short. It was followed by a scream that died away into a choking cough. ‘Ready!’ he whispered to the man on each side. ‘Pass it on.’ The words had barely left his mouth when the quiet was shredded by the war cries of Hanno and his soldiers. Mutt strained his eyes at the rampart, trying to envisage what was going on. Light flared against the sky, flickered and then increased in brilliance. A tent had gone up in flames, he thought, dark satisfaction filling him. Shouts of confusion rang out from the sentries on the rampart near Mutt and a moment later, they deserted their posts.
The screaming began soon after, and rapidly became the dominant sound, which told Mutt all he needed to know. He went through the little ritual that had stood him in good stead so many times before: made sure that his sandals had a firm grip in the earth; readied his spear and held his shield grip even tighter, and muttered a prayer to Melqart and Baal Hammon, his favoured gods.
The noise of pounding feet drew everyone’s attention like a moth to a flame. A moment later, a lone figure tore out of the entrance opposite and ran straight for them at full tilt, his life ending on the spear of a soldier near Mutt.
One down, Mutt thought. Another hundred or more to go.
The next Roman didn’t see them either, nor did the two after him, or the four single legionaries after that. They all died without even landing a blow on one of his men. The noise of fighting within the camp had risen to a deafening level bythen, and Mutt passed the order to prepare for a bigger onslaught. Hanno’s attack was going well. More ‘business’ would not be long coming their way.
A party of about twenty legionaries burst out through the entrance, shouting and yelling to each other. They ran towards Mutt without any hint of either formation or awareness that more enemies were lying in wait. A
pssst
from Mutt had a handful of spearmen nearby hurry to his side. They formed a mini shieldwall an instant before the Romans saw them. Curses and shouts of fear rent the air, but it was too late. They struck Mutt and the others as a ship hits a hidden rock.
Thump
went their shield bosses into enemy flesh. Stab. Thrust. Blood sprayed onto Mutt’s face. Blinking it away he shoved his blade into the man who came stumbling over the falling body of his comrade. It was like spearing fish in a pool.
As Mutt had expected, however, the pressure from the fleeing legionaries soon increased. There was no point losing any of his men, so he barked an order. His soldiers split apart, allowing the Romans to run off into the darkness. When another large group appeared, he let them by without hindrance. As wolves attack the stragglers, so he and his soldiers would take down the Romans, he had decided. A degree of caution would mean, with luck, no casualties at all.
More stragglers appeared, and were slain. The noise level inside the camp diminished, and then rose again. Except this time, the din was being made by Hanno’s men. ‘HANN-I-BAL!’ Mutt heard them shouting, not far from where he stood. It was nearly over, he thought, feeling elated. They had won.
‘Look, sir!’
A tall shape was running towards them.
Gradually, he made out a feathered crest. It was an officer — the enemy commander.
‘HERE I AM, YOU WHORESON!’ he roared. Slaying the Roman leader would be the ultimate glory, the total proof that they had humiliated this enemy patrol, Mutt told himself, as the memory of his nightmare hit him like a hammer blow.. It was too late to do anything other than fight, however.
Whatever the outcome.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except
Suddenly, Mutt’s attention was focused on a shout that was cut short. It was followed by a scream that died away into a choking cough. ‘Ready!’ he whispered to the man on each side. ‘Pass it on.’ The words had barely left his mouth when the quiet was shredded by the war cries of Hanno and his soldiers. Mutt strained his eyes at the rampart, trying to envisage what was going on. Light flared against the sky, flickered and then increased in brilliance. A tent had gone up in flames, he thought, dark satisfaction filling him. Shouts of confusion rang out from the sentries on the rampart near Mutt and a moment later, they deserted their posts.
The screaming began soon after, and rapidly became the dominant sound, which told Mutt all he needed to know. He went through the little ritual that had stood him in good stead so many times before: made sure that his sandals had a firm grip in the earth; readied his spear and held his shield grip even tighter, and muttered a prayer to Melqart and Baal Hammon, his favoured gods.
The noise of pounding feet drew everyone’s attention like a moth to a flame. A moment later, a lone figure tore out of the entrance opposite and ran straight for them at full tilt, his life ending on the spear of a soldier near Mutt.
One down, Mutt thought. Another hundred or more to go.
The next Roman didn’t see them either, nor did the two after him, or the four single legionaries after that. They all died without even landing a blow on one of his men. The noise of fighting within the camp had risen to a deafening level bythen, and Mutt passed the order to prepare for a bigger onslaught. Hanno’s attack was going well. More ‘business’ would not be long coming their way.
A party of about twenty legionaries burst out through the entrance, shouting and yelling to each other. They ran towards Mutt without any hint of either formation or awareness that more enemies were lying in wait. A
pssst
from Mutt had a handful of spearmen nearby hurry to his side. They formed a mini shieldwall an instant before the Romans saw them. Curses and shouts of fear rent the air, but it was too late. They struck Mutt and the others as a ship hits a hidden rock.
Thump
went their shield bosses into enemy flesh. Stab. Thrust. Blood sprayed onto Mutt’s face. Blinking it away he shoved his blade into the man who came stumbling over the falling body of his comrade. It was like spearing fish in a pool.
As Mutt had expected, however, the pressure from the fleeing legionaries soon increased. There was no point losing any of his men, so he barked an order. His soldiers split apart, allowing the Romans to run off into the darkness. When another large group appeared, he let them by without hindrance. As wolves attack the stragglers, so he and his soldiers would take down the Romans, he had decided. A degree of caution would mean, with luck, no casualties at all.
More stragglers appeared, and were slain. The noise level inside the camp diminished, and then rose again. Except this time, the din was being made by Hanno’s men. ‘HANN-I-BAL!’ Mutt heard them shouting, not far from where he stood. It was nearly over, he thought, feeling elated. They had won.
‘Look, sir!’
A tall shape was running towards them.
Gradually, he made out a feathered crest. It was an officer — the enemy commander.
‘HERE I AM, YOU WHORESON!’ he roared. Slaying the Roman leader would be the ultimate glory, the total proof that they had humiliated this enemy patrol, Mutt told himself, as the memory of his nightmare hit him like a hammer blow.. It was too late to do anything other than fight, however.
Whatever the outcome.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except
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