Blood Harvest At Cannae (The Lions And The Wolf Book 4) by Pearson Garrett

Author:Pearson, Garrett [Pearson, Garrett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morepork Publishing
Published: 2022-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Across the field Carthaginian trumpets and horns blared three short blasts to recall troops. There was no immediate cease in the fighting, as always, with bloodlust up and adrenalin coursing through men’s bodies the combat took time to slow and stop. Slowly, the Carthaginians began to disengage, some men having to be physically pulled away by their comrades as pending victory brought euphoria and they still sought Roman blood.

Cornelius barked orders for his men to ‘Stand-to’ while gazing in disbelief as the enemy slowly backed away. Was this just a regroup for the final push by the Carthaginians? If it was, this lull was merely a respite from certain death for he knew he and his men could not take much more before being overwhelmed. His battered mind went over his training; regroup, clear the dead and the wounded from the lines; weapon checks … His thoughts were interrupted by his Optio shouting and pointing excitedly to their rear.

“Sir! … Sir! Fabius has come!”

Cornelius looked to where the Optio pointed and saw Fabius’s legions deploying into line by maniple with turmaes of equites assembling on the wings. Not quite believing his eyes, he looked again at the colourful, impressive array and saw the lines begin to advance. A trumpet blared nearby, ragged and forlorn sounding, calling for men to fall back and regroup. Shouting orders to his Optio, they moved amongst their men attempting to make order out of chaos while commencing an orderly withdrawal and regroup. Herding his men, he muttered a heartfelt prayer under his breath to Juno for deliverance.

“Juno, Goddess, thank you! With all my heart, I thank you!” Tears of relief spilled down his cheeks, emotion stealing his breath.

Across the field troops on both sides were regrouping. The battered remnants of Minucius’s command slowly coming to order as they eased back and away towards their advancing comrades while keeping their eyes front watching the enemy. Cornelius heard shouts then cheering growing in volume and paused to look. The enemy ranks cheered while raising spears and shields in salute as the Carthaginian command group made its way across their line’s frontage. The man riding at the front of the small cavalcade, with a purple diadem in his hair raising a hand to his men acknowledging their cheers. It had to be Hannibal, but he was so young! And very much junior to the men that rode with him, they being middle-aged or older. How could this man of still early years set an empire by its ears, destroy armies, defeat and outmanoeuvre men who’d been at war longer than he’d been alive? Was this young man the monster? The eater of Roman children? The leader of the ‘Lion’s Brood’, come to destroy Rome? Still watching, he looked briefly for Baldor’s black plumed helmet amongst the group then dismissed the thought, Baldor like himself, was not of sufficient rank to ride with such. So, no meeting with Baldor this time, was he on the field or dead

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