Sword of Rome: Standard Bearer Read Free

beach - centred around a giant Briton who appeared to be wielding a huge
hammer. He was swotting away legionaries like flies,
with shields buckling under the weight of his heavy blows.
    “ Roscius , bring down
that fat bastard with the hammer. He’s boring me.”
    Roscius made his way towards the heart of the fighting, whilst Oppius was heartened to see how a group of Roman infantry
had formed a square at the other end of the beach. A line of shields surrounded
a group of legionaries, who were unleashing their pilums into a mass of enemy cavalry.
    “What would you like me to do sir?” Fabius asked, trying to dispel the fear from his voice and
features.
    “Just stay close to me lad and try not to get
yourself killed.”
    Roscius assessed his enemy as he marched purposefully towards him. The
savage brute was strong, but overweight and predictable. A half a dozen men
from the Seventh formed a semi-circle around the barbarian, but they were wary
of closing in having witnessed their comrades fail to bring the giant down.
    “Hey, shithead, why don’t
you pick on somebody your own size?” Roscius announced, whilst throwing down his shield. The scutum would be an encumbrance for what the legionary had
planned.
    The wild-eyed Briton stood even taller and
wider than Roscius , a mix of flab and muscle. Blood – that of his foes rather than his own – flecked his face. He growled and ran towards the Roman, lifting the fearsome hammer above his
head. Roscius moved just in time however and the
large iron head of the mallet thudded into the sand, at which point the
legionary swiftly lifted his foot up and brought it down upon the shaft of the
weapon, splitting it in two. The Briton, his face twisted in even greater rage,
swung what was left of the shaft at Roscius ’ head but
the Roman swung his sword in return and the gladius truncated the oak shaft even further. The blade of the sword met the
barbarian’s fist too when he then swung a punch. His blood flecked the
legionary’s face and he howled in pain – before the savage fell to his knees
and Roscius buried the gladius in his chest.
    “Never send the Seventh in to do a job that
only the Tenth can do,” Roscius declared with relish
at the end.
    Oppius glanced across the beach and nodded in approval at Rocius having defeated the troublesome barbarian. He was
also pleased to see that his friend had come through the fight uninjured. The
standard bearer again surveyed the battlefield. The tide was turning Rome’s
way. The Britons were retreating as reinforcements now landed upon the beach
without opposition. Caesar himself was leading a cohort from the front and
spurring his men on. The standard bearer ordered Teucer to try to bring down a couple of the cavalry horses who were escaping up a
narrow track that led up to the top of the cliffs. Should he fell the animals
then they would hinder the retreat of the rest of the cavalry and infantry
retreating up the path. A number of enemy archers and peltists still lined the tops of the cliffs and covered the retreating forces however.
    One such archer drew back his bow, with the
standard bearer in his sights. The Briton had watched both his courageous leap
into the water and his marshalling of legionaries as
they arrived upon the beach. Both had been crucial to the imminent victory. At
least he would stop the standard bearer invading Briton. His arms bulged with
muscle as he drew the bow back, yet despite the tension in the string his body
remained calm, composed. He took a deep breath and then released the arrow. His
skill and technique as an archer were not dissimilar to Teucer’s .
    Oppius remained blindsided and did not notice the missile whistling down
from above, aiming straight for his chest. The force of the arrow was such that
it would piece through his breast plate – but yet it only went so far as to
pierce through Marcus Fabius ’ shield. The youth had
seen the arrow and, positioned just next to Oppius ,
had reacted