The Vanquished sat still, dazed and broken. The surviving men of the once proud Legion avoided each other's gaze. Most stared at the clear dawn sky to avoid looking at the dismal scene of death and dying. They each sat in the spot where they had surrendered in what had been their camp. The camp, only the night before, had been a textbook example of Roman military order.
Some couldn't help but watch their conquerors as they aided the dying of both sides with a humanity that seemed juxtaposed to the malevolent demons who had attacked at the dead of night. The attack had come without a battle cry and the barbarians hadn't charged but strolled into their camp firing their strange weapons and demanding: “Those that wished to live sit.”
Tragically to begin with no one sat. Pride and we'll drilled military muscle kicked in and heroes died by the score.
The first group of soldiers to organise and gather around their standard has been the 16th. They formed a shield wall allowing the retreating men to join their ranks and as soon as there was ground between the opposing sides the Centurions gave the order to advance. Before the ranks got into javelin range the thin line of Barbarians calmly fired their weapons at the formations. Their strange weapons tore through ranks of men like a scythe through hay.
Many men who witnessed the Barbarians shaftless arrows explode through shields armour and flesh alike, sat down on the spot defeated by the carnage. Some of those men, for their disobedience, were killed by their own officers.
Cohort after Cohort were struck down Eventually the survivors turned on their officers and the officers that survived now sat amongst the men just as broken. The dawn ushered in a clear blue sky.
Some of the veterans amongst The Vanquished looked around in disbelief. They weren't new to battlefields. War was bloody and cruel and death was quite often the swiftest relief but this battlefield had a different air not accounting for the sulphuric smell of the Barbarian’s strange weapons, looking around the Vanquished Veterans could see that the carnage had been single sided. The Barbarian’s had used The Legion’s own ramparts against them: dispatching the sentries, filing in through a gate and firing their weapons down on the legion below as though they were spearing fish in a pond.
Those Veterans on higher ground also speculated amongst themselves that in the clear light of day only a fifth of their force had been killed or injured. It was clear that the Barbarian’s medics seemed to be treating the wounded of each side with equal dignity.
The Vanquished Officers calculated a reprisal and a tactical retreat. The Barbarian’s force had halved along the walls as presumably the others rested. The Vanquished still had their weapons and the Standard still flew supported by its Bearers sat on the ground beneath it. The Officers had expected to be approached by the conquering commanders by now, offering quarter and explaining the demands of surrender.
It was late afternoon before the Vanquished were addressed. Two men and a woman rode into camp and stopped in what had been no man's land. One man presumably the leader as he appeared stout and strong and he rode his horse like a Warrior, barked commands at the nearest Vanquished and soon the word spread like wildfire that: the weapons were to remain on ground and the men were to gather around the riders.
The other rider tall, and sleek, looked less comfortable on the horse and struggled to keep the horse from skittishly moving around the newly formed ring of men.
The Woman rider looked bored she spoke to her people in what some of the legionnaires understood as British.
To much of the surprise of the now gathered Vanquished it was the tall man who spoke first. His latin was clumsy but his message was clear. After each sentence he stopped so the message could be relayed to the back;
“You are defeated. You are The Vanquished. You are now free men. You may join me or go home and tend your land and pay your taxes.”
The most senior of the Vanquished, a general, pushed his way forward and stepped into the clearing. “I'm in charge of these men….” The Warrior raised his weapon and shot the general dead. The lanky man shook his head disapprovingly. He turned back to the crowd. “You don't answer to anyone but me now. You join me or go home.”
Someone at the back shouted “Who are you?”
The Warrior answered, his voice could be heard clearly by the crowd. “This is Apollo and I… Am Mars. Bow to your gods.”
What choice did the Vanquished have.