Hannibal: The Patrol Read Free

fight.’
    Going back the way they had come was probably a bad idea — Hanno had that right. The forest went on for miles. On the narrow track, they had no chance of forming up in the more protective phalanx formation. The stinking Gauls could just follow them, peppering them with arrows. Yet if the enemy outnumbered them, it might prove more prudent to withdraw. A bead of cold sweat trickledfrom under Mutt’s helmet liner and down the side of his face. What to do? he wondered. Trust Hanno. He’s the commander. He needs my support. ‘Very good, sir.’
    Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Booooooooo
. Weapons clashed off shield edges, off iron bosses. Warriors roared battle cries.
    ‘Prepare for an attack!’ shouted Hanno. ‘Two ranks on each side, spears at the ready!’
    Mutt trotted down half a dozen rows, repeating the command and telling men to pass it on. Quickly, he returned to the formation’s midpoint, shoved into the ranks and turned about to face the trees.
    Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Booooooooo. Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Parr-parr-parr
.
Zzzeyrrp
.
Booooooooo
. More shouting. Screaming. Metal hammering off metal.
    Then silence fell.
    ‘For Carthage!’ Mutt heard Hanno cry. ‘For Hannibal!’
    ‘HANN-I-BAL!’ bellowed Mutt. He dashed his spear off the front of his shield.
Clash
,
clash
,
clash
, he went, in time with the chant.
    His men latched onto the refrain with even more gusto than normal. ‘HANN-I-BAL! HANN-I-BAL! HANN-I-BAL!’ they screamed.
    Shapes moved in the trees, came out into the open. A wide line of men — Gaulish warriors. Since meeting his first tribesmen in Gaul, Mutt could pick them out a mile off. Bowl helmets similar to those of the Romans. Large rectangular oroval shields. Coloured cloaks, tunics and patterned trousers. An occasional individual with a mail shirt. The three men who led them were stark naked, however, holding only a shield and sword each. After only a few steps, they advanced at a run. Two of them headed straight towards Mutt and the soldiers near him. Behind them, their companions broke into a trot.
    The Gauls’ plan was simple, Mutt thought grimly. It was to use the fanatics as battering rams, to break their line. If they were doing that on his side of the column, they’d be doing it on the other too. His stomach clenched painfully. With their reduced depth of two ranks per side, there was a good chance that the Gauls’ tactic could work. They would have to kill the naked warriors at once, or the whole thing could turn into a bloodbath.
    He waited a few heartbeats until the Gauls had drawn closer. Then he stepped forward and out of the shield wall. ‘HERE! COME AND GET ME, YOU FUCKERS!’
    Two of the trio aimed for him at once. The third was heading for a spot between him and the front of the patrol. Mutt had to pray that the men there held the warrior back, killed him fast, and that he and the soldiers around him could do the same. Slowly, he retreated to the safety of the formation, slipped his shield in between those to left and right. The Gauls were about thirty paces out now. He shot a glance to either side. ‘See those naked bastards, lads? The ones with the flapping cocks and balls?’
    A ripple of slightly nervous laughter. ‘Yes, sir!’ came a chorus of voices.
    ‘We kill them, fast. If they smash even a small hole in our lines, we’re fucked. D’you understand?’
    ‘YES, SIR!’
    He took some solace from the volume of their response. ‘Shields up, spears ready! Guard the man to your left!’
    The two Gauls might have been naked, but they weren’t stupid. They came in together, virtually shoulder to shoulder. Big men, with swirling tattoos on their muscular arms and torsos, and mud covering their lower legs. There was mania and death in their eyes.
    Mutt prayed that their battle rage rendered them prone to mistakes. ‘HERE I AM!’ he yelled again, taking a single step forward so that