Free The Road to Rome by Ben Kane

same fate.
    The confident atmosphere that had prevailed all morning evaporated. What had seemed like a cushy number was going to be the death of them all. No one spoke as they watched the enemy moving uphill, taking their time to conserve their horses’ energy. Having fought the Romans before, Mithridates’ men would know that they were at no risk from javelins until they were within thirty paces, perhaps fifty down an incline like this. The ballistae were still within the walls, so there was no means of preventing the enemy from ascending the slope unchallenged. The Pontic horse would have ample time to regroup before charging. Romulus’ mouth felt dry at the prospect.
    An uneasy silence reigned over the Twenty-Eighth; angry shouts and cries rose from the camp as the rest of the army struggled to get ready. Six centuries of roughly eighty men had to join up to form a cohort; ten of these assembled units made a legion. While the process happened smoothly, it took time. A good general did not march his men out to battle unprepared, thought Romulus. He and his comrades would just have to manage.
    It was not long before the enemy host had come to within two hundred paces of their position. Now Romulus could make out the slingers and the archers. Clad in simple wool tunics, they were similar to the mercenaries he had fought against in Egypt. Each man carried two slings, one for shortrange and another for longer distances. The spare was wrapped around their necks while a leather pouch on a strap contained their ammunition. Many also carried knives. Dressed in white tunics, the archers were better armed. As well as their recurved bows, many wore swords on their red leather belts. With occasional hide or linen cuirasses and helmets, these were troops which could close with the enemy as well as fire arrows from a distance.
    Yet neither type would pose a threat to the legionaries’ shield wall, Romulus thought. It was the men in the chariots behind, and the heavily armed horsemen on either side, who would do that. Although he knew of the Persians’ disastrous attempt to use scythed chariots against Alexander at Gaugamela, Romulus still felt uneasy. The men around him had not been shown how to fight such vehicles, as Alexander’s had. Pulled by four armoured horses and controlled by a single warrior, they had curved blades as long as a man’s arm protruding from the end of the traces and from both wheels. They promised devastation.
    Nor had the Persian chariots been backed up by heavy cavalry, as the Pontic ones were. These horsemen could sweep around to their rear and thus prevent any retreat. Dread surged through Romulus at the memory of the Parthian cataphracts. With conical iron helmets, scale mail which reached below the knee, and carrying long javelins, those opposite closely resembled the mailed warriors who had smashed apart Crassus’ legions with such impunity. The sun’s rays flashed off the chain mail covering their horses’ chests and flanks, reflecting blinding light into the legionaries’ faces.
    The threat posed by Pharnaces’ army was sinking in around Romulus. Men were looking very uneasy. If they knew what I had seen at Carrhae, he thought, many would run now. Thankfully they didn’t, so their wavering lines held. Their optio looked to the centurion, who cleared his throat self-consciously. ‘Steady, lads,’ he ordered. ‘We won’t have to hold the bastards for long. Caesar is on his way.’
    ‘Fucking well better be,’ commented Petronius.
    Nervous laughter rippled through the ranks.
    They had little opportunity for any further contemplation as the Pontic archers and slingers loosed their first volley. Hundreds of arrows and stones shot up, darkening the sky. This was the opening gambit of most battles,aimed at causing maximum casualties and softening up the enemy before a charge. Although his shield was made of layers of hardened wood and covered with leather, Romulus still felt his jaw