Scipio Rules by Martin Tessmer

Author:Martin Tessmer [Tessmer, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dancing in Chains Productions
Published: 2017-07-12T04:00:00+00:00

“Their flanks are protected by their cavalry, my King. There are thousands of them.”

“Yes, but they are lightly armored cavalry,” Antiochus says. He winks. “And we have just the men to break them. Get Antiochus the Younger over here.”

A tall rider soon approaches the two commanders. His is body covered in bronze scale armor, as is his horse. He pulls off his domed helmet to reveal a sharp-featured youth with jet black hair and beard.

“What is it, Father? Can we attack now? The men are growing restless. They need heads and plunder.”

“It is time. We have to break those phalanxes or we’re lost. You will attack the left flank cavalry with your cataphractii, and penetrate their infantry. I’m bringing my King’s Friends in to the right.”

“I’ll tell the Galatians to prepare for a counterattack,” adds Zeuxis. His eyes gleam. “I’ll let Nicator join them; he’ll keep them fighting.”

“By all means, turn him loose,” the king says. He waves to his left. “Get your men ready, Son. But wait for the signal.”

Antiochus the Younger salutes. “Their heads will be ours before nightfall.” He trundles off, his armor jingling.

“Let’s get my cavalry over to the right flank, Zeuxis. It’s time to do some fighting!”

Minutes later, the Syrians’ curved bronze horns sound across the ranks. Three thousand cataphractii thunder down the hillside, each horse and rider covered in heavy scale armor. They pound across the grassy plain, with Antiochus the Younger in the lead.

Thousands of Egyptian cavalry charge out to meet them, agile riders wearing a only helmet and cuirass of thick flax. The riders cradle their seven-foot spears in their right arms, a small round shield on the forearm of the hand that grips their horses’ reins. They dart through the cumbersome cataphracti, striking at them from every angle.

On the right, Antiochus and Zeuxis boldly charge out ahead of their thousand elite cavalry. When they approach the Egyptians, the practiced riders move into wedge formation, with Antiochus at the head of them, eager to fight. They level their thirteen foot spears at the center of the cavalry riding column guarding the phalanxes’ flank.

Antiochus barges between two riders and plunges toward the infantry, drawing in in his riders behind him. The Syrians cleave through the enemy cavalry, spearing dozens as they cut deeper into them. The Syrian wedge splits the cavalry apart, jamming them together.

King Antiochus plunges onward, crashing into the flanks of the Egyptian phalanxes. The infantrymen try to lever over their long sarissas to defend themselves but the Syrians are already stampeding through them, easily dodging the cumbersome poles. Wheeling about and stabbing at will, they cut deep into the ranks of the foot soldiers, slashing hundreds down.

Now the right side phalanxes have become a milling mob, jamming against each other in their madness to escape the killing riders that swarm all about them.

While Antiochus’ riders penetrate the phalanxes, his son’s cataphractii rampage through their lightly-armored opponents. Time and again, an Egyptian rider dodges an oncoming Syrian’s lance, only to break his spear on his opponent’s armor.

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