Chapter Six: Downfall
7 August 488 AUC
Tiberius Postumius Varro watched the field before him, entranced by the horrific dance of death. The two armies had conjoined into a single mass, where the screams of the dying and roars of the living vied with the clash of iron on iron and peals of war horns for supremacy of the air. His heart soared with each great push his soldiers gave, and fell with each step back.
He had not had to tell his legions that this battle was tantamount to the survival of Etruria. A victory here would mean negotiations with the Romans, while defeat would spell an end to Etruscan life as they knew it. This battle was the last thrust of a bleeding soldier.
His gaze swept over the battle again, considering the differences between his legions and those of the Romans. He could still remember his and his generals’ shock as they were confronted with the Roman legions for the first time. The last time the two had fought together, their legions had been structured the same, their legionaries outfitted the same. The Roman forces at the Battle of Bononia had been armed and armored uniformly in equipment resembling that of the
principes.
The shock of the change had penetrated all the way to the common legionaries. Tiberius had almost been able to see Etruscan morale drop as they saw their opposition. Tiberius retreated earlier than was strictly necessary, realizing that his men would fight better the next time they faced the enemy. The decision had been a costly one, as evidenced by the fact that this battle had turned into a last stand.
Tiberius cheered suddenly as he realized his legionaries were beginning to make headway against their foes. He attributed this to the fact that his
principes were currently engaged with the Romans, so the men were on equal footing.
Then he saw it.
The Romans had, at the beginning of the battle, organized their forces in a long, thick line. Tiberius had moved first his
velites and then his
hastati against the line, before cycling them out and moving his
principes forward. Near the end of the time the
hastati spent fighting their enemy, the Romans seemed to fear their flanks were weak, and pulled troops from their center to bolster the flanks.
Now, Tiberius realized, the center was especially weak, and could be broken. Turning to Marcus, sitting on a horse to his right, Tiberius said, “You will have command here. It has come to the
triarii.” Marcus stared at his commander.
“Surely not yet,” he said, “the
principes have begun to push the Romans back.”
Tiberius pointed toward the middle of the melee. “If we push wedge of
triarii into the center, we can shatter them, then consolidate the rest of the troops and order a general assault, sweeping the Romans from the field.”
“But sir,” Marcus protested, uncertainty in his voice, “we still do not know where the Roman cavalry is. They could be just over the ridge, waiting for us to make just such a move.”
Tiberius was shaking his head before Marcus finished, confidence filling him for the first time in two years. “I’ve no doubt they’ve gone to join Gracchus and deal with the pesky Arverni.” he said. “No, now is our chance to destroy a Roman army, to prove to our men and to our people that this war can still be salvaged. I will lead the
triarii. You will have command of the rest.”
He took a deep breath, watching the chaos below. Marcus realized that Tiberius was practically shaking with excitement, and he thought to himself,
What has come over him? Why can’t he see reason? He was too disciplined, however to continue questioning a superior’s orders. “Yes sir,” he said wearily, saluting quickly.
Tiberius nodded to him, before turning away, riding to gather the
triarii.
Many minutes later, more horns sounded over the din, and the remnants of the
velites raced toward the center of the Roman line, flinging their javelins, stalling the Romans long enough for the
principes to pull back and let the
triarii forward. At the head of the wedge, Tiberius let loose a fierce warcry, that was answered with an incoherent roar by the
triarii.
The wedge crashed into the Roman line, and the ranks immediately began to buckle. Tiberius slammed his spear under a legionary’s guard, driving it into the unfortunate man’s groin. He pulled back quickly, and the man fell away, clutching his wound, trying to staunch the flood of blood that poured forth. Tiberius stepped over the soldier to confront his next foe. His savage thrust was met by the legionary’s shield, but so great was the force of the thrust that it punctured the shield, skidding off of the plates of the legionary’s armor.
The sudden weight of the spear forced the man’s shield down, and Tiberius shield-rushed him, forcing him back long enough the wrench his sword from its scabbard. He was on the man before he could recover, and opened the soldier’s throat with a quick backhand.
With a blood-thirsty yell, Tiberius continued to push deep into the enemy lines. Soon after, he could sense the break coming, as the wedge steadily pushed back the Roman ranks. Tiberius could see, over the shoulders of his opponents, that the men farther back were beginning to retreat faster. Realizing the break was closer than he had thought, Tiberius decided not to wait until the actual break before ordering the other maniples forward.
Tiberius fell back into the center of the wedge, replaced by a fresh soldier. He was the last of the original outside men to rotate into the wedge. Thrusting his blood-soaked sword high into the air, he waved it wildly. He had arranged with the cornicens before forming the wedge that he would signal them to signal the attack.
Nearly a dozen of the horn-blowers had been watching his distant figure, awaiting the moment. Seeing him waving his sword, they brought their horns to their lips and blew the notes for a general attack.
The survivors among the
hastati roused themselves, filling in the ranks alongside the
principes as they pushed into the Romans. The sudden intensity of the fight on the flanks seemed to surprise the Romans, but they held their ground. There was now more pressure on the center too, and the Roman center fell back even more. Tiberius urged his men on, sensing victory.
Only Marcus and the staff officers, from the vantage point of the hilltop, saw the complete situation. Cursing, he spurred his horse toward the battle, knowing that unless the attack could be called off, they would all die. Tiberius had left him in command of the
hastati and
principes, but had then usurped that command with his signal to the cornicens.
The Roman force, originally arranged in a straight line, had now become a
V, as the center fell back but the flanks held strong, even advancing slowly. While that was bad, it could still have been salvaged, but for the attack. The general attack had filled in the gaps between the maniples, forming the Etruscan army into a single dense mass that was now being pushed into the
V by its own impetus. Added to all of that, Marcus had seen his worst fears come true. Sweeping over a hill, perhaps a mile or two off, the Roman cavalry was riding hard for the Etruscan rear.
Arriving at the cornicens’ position, Marcus ordered them to blow the retreat. They wasted valuable time questioning the order before finally complying. Marcus, with a sinking heart, saw that the order had come too late. Even as he watched, near the center of the Etruscan mass, the forward ranks of cavalry overran the rear most ranks of Etruscans.
By now, the order to retreat had been given, and the Etruscans near the rear, still not having seen the incarnation of death that was descending upon them, turned and began to retreat. Right into the charging ranks of cavalry. With the cavalry smashing into the Etruscans, the legions found themselves surrounded. The flanks of the Roman force turned into the Etruscans, cutting them down without mercy.
Tiberius’ first warning that something was wrong was when horns sounded from amongst the Roman lines, and suddenly the Etruscans found themselves pushed back by the now-advancing enemy. Even the
triarii wedge was blunted as the first dozen or so men of the wedge were cut down in their surprise.
Tiberius pushed his way to the front of the remnants of the wedge, furiously cutting down the first few Romans unfortunate enough to face him. Even he, however, could not face an army. His shield was cut from him, but he fought on. Soon after, his sword, the one he had carried through all of his campaigns, broke upon the shield of a legionary.
Tiberius stared at the shattered blade in shock, feeling utterly betrayed, not only by the sword, but also by the gods. He didn’t notice as the legionary’s sword plunged into his belly, tearing free. He didn’t try to hold in the blood and entrails that spilled from the wound. He didn’t move as the legionary spun around him, confronting the next man. He didn’t see the next Roman swing at his neck.
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An excerpt from
Etruria: The Definitive History:
At the Battle of Arretium, twenty-five thousand Etruscans lost their lives. They were slain without mercy by the tired and furious Romans. The battle ended any chance of Etruscan independence.
The city of Arretium, with no one to defend it fell the next day to the Romans. The Etruscan Senate met three days later with Roman delegates to discuss a cessation of hostilities. The price was steep. Etruria was left with nothing more than her original homeland and lands of the Ligurians. In addition, Etruria was forced resume its monthly tribute and to become a client-state of Rome. Satisfied, the Romans left, leaving behind a ruined wasteland.
With nearly every able-bodied man in Etruria either dead or maimed, the harvest could not be brought in. Plague and starvation set in, and winter saw countless thousands die. Rome, in a show of mercy at odds with its former savagery, sent men to aid in the planting, and later, in the harvesting the next year.
That, however, did not stop the next war. Just over five years after the treaty of peace was signed, the Roman Senate declared war again, citing as their casus belli that Etruria had not sent tribute for several months. This was, of course, a lie, but it satisfied the Roman public. The war was a formality, and Etruria was forced to cede even the Ligurian homeland and pay an even higher tribute.
Another five years passed, and there was another declaration of war. This war, however brief, was no formality. The Etruscan legions were led by Lucius Postumius Varro, son of the general cut down at Arretium. He won several battles, including one where he lured two Roman legions into the same trap they had used at Arretium. It was not enough to save Etruria. One year after the start of the war, in 459 AUC, Etruria was officially annexed by the Roman Republic.
Etruria would not regain its independence until centuries had passed, after the fall of the soon-to-be Roman Empire.