A large warrior in a thick leather cuirass held a heavy curved sword in both hands above his head. His eyes met Macro’s and he smiled savagely as he stretched his arms back to make a powerful blow. Then he slashed down. Macro saw that the blade would split his shield in two, and take his left arm with it. He sprang forward, inside the arc of the massive blade and slammed his shield into the man’s chest and head. The Nubian’s arms struck the rim of the shield and the sword leaped from his hands, embedding the point in the sand behind Macro. He punched his blade into the Nubian’s side, ripped it out and thrust again before stepping back into the line of the First Cohort. The Nubian stumbled away and was lost amid swirling robes of two Arabs with spears who took his place in front of the centurion. They immediately jabbed at Macro but their weapons were easily blocked by the shield and Macro made no attempt to step forward and strike at them. Their futile blows thudded against the leather surface until the press of their comrades behind them forced them right up against the line of legionaries.

This was the kind of fighting which the legionaries’ equipment had been designed for and at which the soldiers excelled, and all along the line the Nubians found themselves confronted by an unbroken wall of heavy shields behind which well-armoured men stood their ground, striking brutally into the ill-protected bodies packed together beyond the shields. Mortally wounded and injured Nubians fell before the Roman line, and the terrified cries of the still living were stifled as their comrades trampled over them to get at the legionaries. Most were driven on by courage, hatred of Rome and the prospect of looting the province. Others, even the cowards, had no choice as there was no way to escape the battle through the dense mass of bodies surging forward. Those far enough back to be subjected to the continued fall of Roman arrows could do nothing to avoid the deadly barbs, only pray to their gods for protection.

The Nubians were spared the danger of the bolt throwers as Cato had given the order for them to conserve ammunition rather than fire blind into the dust that obscured the view a short distance from the battle line. The crews were whipping their mule trains as the carts on which the bolt throwers were mounted were driven back to the second position Cato had chosen the previous evening.