Volume 5: The Hegemon of Southern Italy, Chapter 84: The Battle of the Anleen Hills (Part 3)

"Archers, ready!" Purlos ordered as soon as he saw the Greeks entering range. The height difference of several dozen meters not only extended the archers' reach but also increased the killing power of their arrows, while shortening the range of the enemy's archers. This back-and-forth gave the Messapian-Peucetii Allied Forces a huge advantage in ranged firepower—this was the benefit of holding the high ground.

But just as the Peucetii drew their bows and nocked their arrows, countless black specks came whistling up the slope, smashing into the lightly equipped Peucetii and making the archers cry out in pain.

The Greeks have slingers! Trellemoni thought with a start.

What Davos regretted at that moment was that the two Army Corps' light infantry battalions—under Epithenis and Tsipet—had only about four hundred slingers in total, not enough to suppress the enemy line stretching over five stadia; they could only disrupt the rhythm of their shooting.

Arrows still fell like rain. The soldiers held their round shields over their heads, advancing step by step, slowly. The terrain prevented them from using the heavy infantry's killer move—the charge. They could only endure the arrows clattering against the bronze plating of their shields, making a constant clang-clang-clang.

When they began climbing the hill, javelins started slamming violently into their shields, causing some soldiers to get wounded.

Wounded soldiers fell to the ground, curled up, covering their bodies with their round shields, waiting for the medics to rescue them.

In the center of the entire battle line were the heavy infantry of Igrathia, stationed at the enemy's weakest point—the lowest terrain.

"Hurry! Hurry!" Amyntas kept urging his men. He had no intention of losing to young Matonis, a mercenary junior. So, defying Daonia's Military Code, he led from the front, running at the very head of his battalion. This made his soldiers, already fatigued from the long march, scream like they'd been injected with adrenaline and follow close behind.

After charging under the rain of arrows to within twenty meters of the enemy, the entire battalion suddenly halted.

"Defense!" Timocrates shouted, thinking the enemy was about to charge.

The soldiers thrust their spears out from behind their round shields, forming a fearsome spear wall. Even though the gentle slope was only a few meters high, that height was enough to cost the Greeks dearly!

But what the Messapians got was not a Greek charge, but nearly a thousand javelins flying at them. Amid the terrified gazes of the Messapians, the javelins, whistling with force, plunged deep into the phalanx, raising a chorus of screams.

Timocrates had never expected the Daonian heavy infantry to be able to throw javelins. Shocked, he shouted frantically, "Raise shields! Shield defense!"

Amyntas quickly pulled out his second javelin, then roared, "Follow me! Charge!" With that, shield in left hand, spear in right, he was the first to rush the enemy.

The soldiers followed close behind.

Timocrates was amazed: normally, when Greek heavy infantry charged, their formation would scatter. But the enemy opposite maintained a roughly cohesive formation, pressing forward like a solid iron wall, giving him a suffocating feeling.

"Defense! Defend quickly!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with panic.

But the javelin strike had left his men still in disarray, and Amyntas' battalion arrived in an instant. They stepped onto the gentle slope, took a few big strides, and using their momentum, thrust their left arms forward with shields raised. *Clang!...* After a series of metallic clashes, they forced the Messapian front line—disordered and unable to coordinate their defense—to step back involuntarily to absorb the impact.

That retreat caused the densely packed Messapians to trip over their comrades who had fallen from javelin wounds behind them, and down went a whole row. Behind them were panicked shouts from comrades; ahead were spears thrusting like poisonous snakes. In the chaos, they continued retreating, allowing most of Amyntas' battalion to gain a foothold on the slope.

...

As commander of the Seventh Battalion of the Second Army Corps, Tsipet had a habit: before every battle, he always prayed first.

He didn't just do it himself—he made his men do it too. In the past, he prayed to Ares, the god of war. But after following Davos, his target had shifted to Daonia's Patron Deity, the Lord of the Underworld, Hades. After devoutly singing the Hymn to Hades, he stood up and said, "Slingers, keep hitting the enemy here. Archers, stick close behind the heavy infantry. Once you're in range, fire arrows at the enemy on the slope. Peltasts, follow me!"

Saturus, a peltast company commander, quickly advised, "Battalion commander, you should stay back and command. Leave the attack to the brothers under my lead."

Tsipet glared at him. "Now's the chance to prove our worth as peltasts. How can I hide behind?" In recent months, a view had emerged in the army: since the Daonian Army Corps had archers and slingers for ranged attacks and heavy infantry with javelins for close-in firepower, the peltasts' role seemed expendable. Some suggested eliminating the peltast branch and replacing it with light-armored infantry like the Mountain Reconnaissance Unit.

Epithenis and Tsipet, both peltasts by origin, strongly opposed this view and kept expressing their opinion to Davos: peltasts must never be replaced—they are irreplaceable!

Now was the time to prove the worth of the peltasts.

Nearly five hundred peltasts, led by Epithenis and Tsipet, split into pairs and trios, dispersing through the gaps in the heavy infantry's "fish-scale formation."

Leotychides' platoon was at the very front of the line, and he himself was in the center of the first rank of the platoon's phalanx. That day, after beating up a comrade, he had been confined for half a day. He was supposed to receive a beating with the military rod as well, but the military judge postponed the punishment until after the battle, considering the upcoming fight, and allowed him to redeem himself through merit.

Now, Leotychides was already climbing the slope. Without a helmet, carrying over forty minas of equipment, climbing upward while holding weapons with both hands, it was no easy task to keep his balance. Fortunately, it was early autumn, warm and dry. The slope was overgrown with weeds, and it hadn't rained in over ten days, so the soil was soft. A firm step left a small depression. Leotychides and his comrades advanced slowly, step by step.

The Messapians' attacks grew fiercer. Javelins thrown from the high ground thirty meters away struck the round shields with strong force. Most pierced the bronze plating, and the remaining power knocked Leotychides backward. He quickly jammed the butt of his spear into the dirt to steady himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some soldiers losing their footing from the impacts and sliding down, taking out the comrades behind them. Fortunately, Daonia's peculiar attack formation, like sawteeth, was neither continuous nor dense, so it didn't hinder the whole line's orderly advance.

Ever since Leotychides entered the recruit training camp, he had been interested in Daonia's unique formation. He found it more complex than the traditional Greek phalanx, yet very effective in operation, and adaptable to various terrains. After privately analyzing it, he once thought it more ingenious than the Spartan left-turn tactics he had trained in since childhood. Later, he learned that Archon Davos had invented this one-of-a-kind formation alone. He even felt an impulse to seek out Davos and share his own insights and opinions on it. But that was just a fantasy—Davos was the supreme ruler of Daonia, while he himself was no longer the Spartan crown prince, but only a Daonian freeman. So he could only gaze at Davos from afar in the training camp as he addressed the troops from the platform.

Now, the Peucetii's javelins came again.

Leotychides set aside distractions, lowering his body and planting his feet firmly, while keeping his eyes wide open, tracking the javelins' trajectory. He tilted his round shield slightly; the javelin tips sparked off the bronze surface, and much of the force was deflected, reducing their impact on him.

Just as Leotychides breathed a sigh of relief, he heard his comrade on the right cry out, "Ah!" and start wobbling backward. He quickly released his spear, reaching out with his right hand like lightning, grabbing the man's arm.

That man was Heitbarus. He hesitated briefly, then shouted sincerely, "Thanks, Prosous!"

Leotychides gave him a firm nod. Despite the friction between them, the battlefield was the crucible that forged male friendship.

Just then, he looked up and saw someone running to the front of the formation.

It was a peltast! Leotychides blinked. He understood this troop type. During the Peloponnesian War, Sparta had often hired Thracian peltasts as auxiliaries for the heavy infantry. But in the Daonian Army Corps' order of battle, peltasts were considered an important force, no less esteemed than the heavy infantry.

These peltasts held leather shields in their left hands and long-handled hunting blades in their right, wearing thin linen tunics. They advanced quickly toward the enemy on the hill in skirmish order, nimbly dodging most of the Peucetii's javelins.

Why could they be so fast and agile? Because they wielded long-handled reverse-blade polearms—essentially large sickles. This strange weapon, with its nearly semicircular blade, could be thrust into the ground to provide strong assistance for climbing.

Tsipet soon closed in on the enemy. Five or six long spears thrust at him simultaneously.

Tsipet remained calm. He suddenly crouched low; his soft leather armor allowed him to nearly lie flat against the slope. He held his leather shield above his head to block the thrusting spears.

The Peucetii atop the hill found it difficult to hit an enemy nearly flat on the ground at such a low angle, because the slope dropped steeply. Trying to lean forward to strike made it easy to lose balance and roll downhill. So they had to move forward.

In a flash, Tsipet pushed off with both legs, launching himself forward. He quickly hooked his reverse-blade polearm around a Peucetii warrior's foot and yanked hard downward.