For years Gadicus had been the pillar of our strength. He had always managed to be the shining beacon of hop e, even in the direst circumstances of war, invasion and civil strife. By any standard, a man of his age should have put on a wig and sat down in the halls of the senate offering counsel to the young and powerful. But that wasn’t Gadicus. He had only disdain for the politically motivated senators who ran the nation, and still claimed to be the best swordsman on our side of the seas; which was probably true. Of course, no one had dared to challenge this claim for some time now. Not since his last adversary lost his sword, his arm, and eventually his life in a matter of a few minutes. Without exception, the aim of every young legionary was to be Gadicus. And the regret of every veteran was that he wasn’t. Many had feared that he would use his unparalleled influence and following to become a dictator. A fear that still exists, because he has never attempted to do anything of the sort. The few who know him well know that he has no interest in governance, only in protection. A distinct lack of passion for anything but our land made Gadicus the perfect guard for it.
We had never needed him more. Three decades ago he had made a name for himself by leading a charge that repelled the enemy forces on the eastern shores. Their King had always envisioned our island as his colony, and but for Gadicus he may have got it. Three decades hence , he had assembled a stronger force; a force brainwashed with what was now a genetic hatred for our people. They had arrived.
A weak senate made of men who would prostitute the empire for their own wealth had meant that we had delayed action till the very last moment. Only when the enemy was days away from attacking our prided city were legions told to prepare for battle. Underprepared and inadequately provided, the forces knew the odds were against them. But with better skilled warriors and knowledge of the lay of the land, we hoped our towers could still be standing by the end of this. Of course Gadicus and the legion he commanded were at the centre of this all. Many had vocally condemned Gadicus for not taking the initiative when he knew of the impending danger. Ironically most of this criticism came from those against whom the initiative would have to be taken. Plans had been laid out for an ambitious ambush by his legion, an integral cog in our defensive wheel.
There was no sign of mist, and not a cloud in the sky. The priests were right, the Gods had indeed chosen this day for a battle. The speed of mounting our defence had left us no time to think about what lay ahead, but now that the hour was at hand each man was painfully aware that death could be one accurate spear away. It felt surreal.
We hardly noticed the sequence before the bugle was sounded and we waited for the enemy to charge. Some shields held, some didn’t. Their first charge was greatly hampered by the barrage of arrows raining down on them, and consequently their second one was more formidable and better-shielded. We were holding our own for the moment but we all knew that we would lose the advantage in a matter of time. We were outnumbered and they had fresher men to replace in their frontlines. We did not.
The time was ripe for Gadicus to rout them. He knew that the element of surprise can win you battles. All our efforts were now channelled into holding them where they were so that his legion could flank them, leading to a rout.
Any man who’s fought for his city will tell you that this sort of wait feels like its lasted for an eternity. Knowing that the ambush was due now we gave one last spirited effort and did considerable damage. Now the setting was perfect for it.
More hacking. Any second now.
And finally amidst our silver armours and their black coats of mail we saw the fine men of Gadicus, and Gadicus himself looking as fierce as ever.
In black coats of mail.
