What could the Sotiates hope to gain from this? Sooner or later the legionary commanders would tire of watching this attritive warfare and would order an advance. Then it would all be over for these horsemen.
Galronus had reached the far end of the column now, where the newly-raised auxiliary spear bearers and archers brought up the rear, protecting the artillery, the baggage train and the supply wagons. To the cavalry commander’s secret delight, these auxiliary units under their own commanders seemed to be faring a great deal better than Crassus’ formidable legion. The spear men formed a veritable hedge of long, sharpened points, inaccessible to horses, while the archers behind kept up a steady volley that fell among any of the enemy that dared get close enough. The rear of the column was safe and the enemy were already moving toward the front, keeping a safe distance from this deadly combination of spear and arrow.
At least the supplies were protected.
As he watched, the first few units of his cavalry appeared at the other side, riding wide to flank the enemy and trap them against the column.
Galronus smiled and nodded to himself. Now things would change.
A moment later, he himself, along with his first unit, rounded the supply wagons and began to race toward the fray, picking up speed tremendously now that they were safely away from the precipice.
Galronus settled into his saddle, hauling the shield from his back onto his arm, and gripping his own spear tight as his knees guided the beast left and right.
The Sotiates were already pulling toward the front of the column, out of the reach of the archers and their deadly rain. The auxiliary cavalry came in at a wide arc from the slope above the fracas, driving for the flank of the enemy, where they met with shouts and the ringing sound of sword blows pounding shields or the metallic shriek of spear points sliding along bronze helmets or iron blades.
The legionaries close by, where the two cavalry forces had met, simply stood ready and stayed out of the way unless one of the Sotiates made a lunge for them. For a moment, Galronus wondered why they were not pressing home the attack, and then realised that, once the two forces were enjoined in combat, no legionary could tell the difference between the enemy horsemen and their own Gallic cavalry and were staying safely out of the situation for fear of causing allied casualties.
Gritting his teeth, the commander spotted a gap in the fighting and drove his horse down the slope toward a man in a mail vest with a splintered shield and a spear whose tip ran with crimson.
‘Taranis, my arm is your thunderbolt!’
With a quick glance skyward, Galronus raised the spear above his shoulder and charged.
The moments that followed went by in a blur of confusion. Suddenly there was bucking, screaming, a jolting sensation, and he was free of the saddle, thundering through the air.
A lucky blow from one of the enemy horsemen had taken his steed in the neck, just above the shoulder and in shock and pain the horse had stumbled to a halt before rearing. The sudden stop, however, had dislodged the commander from his saddle mid-charge.
His mind whirling, the action around him a smudged mess, Galronus reacted the only way he could. To fall to the floor here, amid a cavalry battle, was to be trampled to death for certain. As his horse reared and collapsed behind him, Galronus let go of both spear and shield and grabbed for the first thing he could reach.
The enemy warrior gasped in surprise. He’d barely noticed the Roman horsemen as he turned to attack and had instantly pushed him from his thoughts as the man’s horse was stuck with a passing spear, but it appeared that the man was far from done.
Galronus clung desperately to the horse’s bridle with his left hand, gripping the saddle horn with his right as his legs dangled, his feet brushing the ground and bouncing painfully along.
In an urgent reaction, the Sotiate warrior brought his shield arm down, the edge of the heavy wood smashing into Galronus’ shoulder in an attempt to dislodge him. The man was trying to manoeuvre his spear over the top so that he could jab down at the burden that clung to his horse’s flank.
Gritting his teeth, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder and the turf tugging at his feet, the Remi commander tightened his grip on the bridle, letting go with his right hand and swinging loose, bringing up his legs so that he hung by one hand from the horse’s neck, knees bent and facing the man whose spear was slowly passing over the top in an arc.
In a fluid move, he drew the broad bladed Roman dagger from his belt and hooked it beneath the strap that passed from the saddle around the horse’s girth. Two sharp tugs was all the sharpened blade needed, and the leather snapped with the tremendous strain put on it from above.
The rider, his spear ready to plunge down at his unwanted passenger, squawked in shock as he plummeted from the side of the horse, knees still gripping the suddenly detached saddle.
Galronus watched as the man fell away, disappearing with a shriek beneath the hooves of two other struggling horses.
Changing his grip on the bridle, the commander vaulted up and onto the bare back of the horse, grasping the reins. The priority now was to removing himself from danger. With no saddle, he would find it difficult to manoeuvre without being unhorsed and, with only a dagger to hand, he was of precious little use in the current melee.
Wheeling the beast, he rode for the clear ground to the rear, turning once he was safely free of the fight.
The battle was all but over. Trapped between the steel wall of the Seventh Legion and the vicious and well-trained auxiliary cavalry, the Sotiates had lost many of their men and had already pulled away toward the front of the column.
Even as he watched, the last few struggles ended as the enemy warriors fell or retreated, the entire remaining force disengaging and racing along the Roman lines, down the gentle slope into the valley.
The Remi officer heaved a sigh of relief and reached up to his tender shoulder. The chain armour had been torn apart by the blow as though it were merely old wool. The tunic beneath was torn and blood soaked the material. At least nothing appeared to have been broken, but for the next few days any movement of the arm would bring exquisite agony.
Wincing, he withdrew his hand and trotted forward, watching the fleeing enemy. His officers looked at him expectantly, and he shook his head, smiling at the looks of disappointment from those men whose blood was already up.
Riding on past, he reached the vanguard to find the officers in deep discussion.
‘And that’s where their chief settlement should be?’
A tribune nodded.
‘We believe it lies where this river meets the main water of Aquitania, legate.’
‘Then we will bring our forces to bear on them before they can prepare.’
He noted Galronus and barely gave a glance to the state of the man and his new steed.
‘Good. Have your cavalry form up and chase down those horsemen. I don’t want them to reach their city and give warning of our imminent arrival. Make sure you get rid of them all, though.’
Galronus blinked.
‘Legate, that is foolhardy at best. We should be moving slowly and carefully, given what just happened, not splitting the force up and riding into unknown territory.’
Crassus sneered at him.
‘Coward! It was your cavalry and your scouts that gave them this chance. My legion took it away from them again. Now get out there and put down that cavalry.’
Galronus shook his head.
‘Impossible, sir. They know the terrain and have a considerable start on us. We’ll never stop them all. Besides, they likely had a reserve of scouts watching that are already busy reporting to their leaders. Whatever we do now, they will already be prepared.’
Crassus issued a low growl.
‘If you will not lead your men down there, I will select someone who will.’
The Remi officer smiled.
‘Good luck, then.’
Ignoring the crimson face and the spluttering of the legate, Galronus wheeled his h
orse and rode back along the line to the cavalry.
* * * * *
Tribune Tertullus sighed.
‘I warned you.’
Galronus nodded gently and drew a sharp breath as the capsarius put the final stitch in his shoulder wound.
‘It is his loss now. He can remove me from command, but under the terms of our agreement with Caesar, he can do nothing more to me without the general’s authorisation. I’m quite safe. Safer than ever now, in fact, since I’m not down there on a lunatic errand.’
Tertullus turned and glanced down the slope.
The cavalry had been placed under the command of one of the other junior tribunes and had ridden off ahead to chase down the Sotiates on Crassus’ order. The legion, however, was moving at triple time, close behind them.
Back here, among the baggage train among the few wounded, Galronus and Tertullus sat on a gently-bouncing wagon as it descended the slope, bringing up the rear of the Roman column. It was a rather impressive vantage point, allowing them an unrivalled view of the entire column stretching out ahead and the valley beyond with its steep slopes.
‘Still,’ the tribune said, scratching his greying scalp, ‘it might have been better if you’d stayed with your men. With Sextius commanding them, they’re probably more of a danger to each other than the enemy.’
Galronus grinned.
‘You’re assuming they’ll do as he says. Most of those men and their commanders are as loyal to me and to Varus as the legions are to Caesar. They are well aware of what my refusal means and they will not put themselves in unnecessary danger. Your Sextius might find he has bitten off a little more than he can chew trying to command a large force of Gauls.’
The tribune laughed and leaned back.
‘I hope you’re right. From what I hear of Aquitania, we’re likely to need every man we have before this is over.’
‘Hardly,’ Galronus said with a sly smile. ‘Your man Crassus tells me he could charge the very gates of the underworld with his precious Seventh.’
‘Ha.’
The two men fell silent as the truth of the situation continued to nag at them both.
Down ahead, something was happening. A blast from a buccina rang out, to be picked up quickly by others.
‘What was that?’
Galronus squinted off into the distance. A mass of dark shapes were issuing from the trees and copses to either side of the valley.
‘Ambush’ the commander said flatly. ‘I was expecting something like this.’
The tribune frowned and looked at the activity in the distance.
‘The cavalry are separate from the legion, out ahead.’
Galronus nodded.
‘My officers were expecting it too. As soon as they saw the enemy, they’ll have pulled ahead to somewhere they can marshal their forces.’
Tertullus shook his head.
‘There are a hell of a lot of them. The legion could be in trouble.’
Again, Galronus shrugged.
‘Not my concern anymore. I’m just a passenger now.’
The tribune narrowed his eyes at the Remi commander.
‘You don’t believe that any more than I do. We need to do something.’
Galronus squared his shoulders, wincing at the pain in the fresh wound. The capsarius, who had moved on to the next man, turned an angry glare on him.
‘If you undo all my work, when I restitch it I’ll sew a coin inside. Sit still.’
Once again the two men turned their gaze to the activity ahead. The valley was narrow and with steep sides. The auxiliary cavalry had formed up ahead, creating a barrier that prevented the remaining enemy horsemen from rejoining their fellow tribesmen, but remained largely removed from the action.
It was hard to credit how well the trap had been laid, really. The number of Sotiates pouring down the slopes onto the Roman forces was more than a match, the enemy outnumbering the legion by perhaps two to one. How they had managed to secrete such a large force in such a small area without being spotted earlier was truly marvellous.
The legion had organised into squares against the enemy coming at them from all sides.
‘At least he’s had the sense to form them defensively’ Galronus nodded. ‘I’d have half expected him to charge them.’
Tertullus shook his head.
‘I know that the lad has faults, and plenty of them, and that he has little regard for you and your men, but I think that perhaps you do him a disservice tactically.’
Galronus turned a surprised look on him.
‘Don’t forget,’ the tribune said ‘he pacified the north west with one legion. His methods are a little brutal, but don’t confuse aggression with stupidity. He’s fairly shrewd in terms of actual tactics.’
The Remi commander looked distinctly unconvinced.
‘What can we do to help them?’ the tribune nudged.
‘He’s underusing the forces he has.’
‘What?’
Galronus shrugged and winced again, sucking in air through his teeth.
‘It’s a common failing I’ve seen in Roman commanders. No disrespect, but most Roman officers concentrate all their energy on the legions, to the exclusion of all others. See how, once the cavalry are out ahead, he appears to have forgotten they exist. While the legion is manoeuvring into the most protective formation possible, what is he doing with the spearmen and archers?’
Tertullus shrugged. The three thousand or so spearmen and archers had taken position part way up the slope, creating a wall of bristling points that could hold most forces from reaching the support column.
‘They’re protecting the baggage. That’s a common role for them, and I, for one, am happy they’re doing so, since we’re sat in one such cart.’
Galronus frowned.
‘Why are you here? I’m wounded and removed from command, but you’re a tribune. Your place is down there.’
Tertullus sighed.
‘The legate likes to keep me out of danger if possible. His mother would be furious with him if anything happened to me.’
Galronus laughed.
‘You Romans have such a strange set of values.’
He pointed down the slope.
‘What I was trying to bring to your attention is that fully a third of the legate’s forces are standing still on the slope and waiting for the enemy to make for the wagons. The Sotiates might not have any intention of doing so, since they’re too busy slaughtering legionaries by the cartload. Wasteful.’
‘So what’s your alternative?’
Galronus grinned and stood, wobbling slightly.
‘I may be a passenger now, but you’re still a senior commander. Let’s take control of the auxiliaries and provide a little support.’
Tertullus smiled and clambered down from the cart.
‘So what do we do?’
‘You take the archers, and I’ll take the spear men. Imagine what damage a thousand arrows could do falling from the top of the valley side?’
The tribune’s smile widened.
‘We might be able to thin them out quite well. And the spears?’
‘Spears are no use up there, but there are a lot of loose rocks on these hillsides. Imagine the damage a heavy rock could do rolling down that hillside and into a mass of warriors.’
Tertullus laughed.
‘I see what you mean about not thinking exclusively.’
Reaching up, he grasped Galronus and helped him down from the cart.
‘Come on. Let’s go and save my nephew’s backside.’
Chapter 16
(Iunius: Inland Aquitania, territory of the Sotiates.)
Gaius Pinarius Rusca licked his lips, his eyes darting back and forth in panic. What in the name of all the Gods was he doing here? The closest he’d ever come to fighting was a tussle with a peer who stole his seat at the games when he was a teenager.
Eight months ago he had been sitting in his cosy little triclinium contemplating his future with the delec
table Laevinia and now, standing on this springy turf with his legs shaking uncontrollably and a dangerous slackening around his bladder, he could not believe how excited he’d been to have had his posting to the legions approved.
His father had served under the elder Crassus years ago and had managed to secure him the most prestigious tribunate within the Seventh beneath the young legate, since when Rusca had spent the past months in Vindunum lording it over the others and turning his ability with numbers and attention to detail to the disposition of units and supply problems.
A distant bellow of rage brought his attention rudely back to the current situation.
‘Hold the line!’ he shouted, noting the way his voice cracked in fear and hoping that no one else had.
The legate had sent the cavalry on chasing the Sotiates and had marched the legions as fast as they could move in formation down the hill behind.
They had descended, eager to bring Roman vengeance to these skirmishing horsemen and Rusca had watched from his forward position as the pursuing auxiliary cavalry engaged the enemy once again, only to be completely cut off from the rest of the army as untold thousands of screaming, bloodthirsty barbarians, some wearing wild animal pelts around their shoulders, had poured seemingly out of the very ground to either side of them.
Rusca’s world had fallen apart. He was a natural mathematician; a studious and quiet young man hoping to achieve at least a minor public appointment back in the city on the strength of his military experience. What he was truly not, he thought, as the embarrassing warm trickle began, was a soldier.
Crassus himself had been close by and Rusca had been surprised at how the man dealt with the situation. The legate was no older than he and had only served the legions for a couple of years and yet he took control of the disaster like those Cretan bull leapers grabbed their acrobatic steeds and pulled the legion together; like a veteran commander.
On the legate’s orders, the legion had split into individual cohorts, each forming a defensive square in the face of the charging enemy. Suddenly, and without time to even attempt mental preparation, the inexperienced senior tribune had found himself in nominal command of the Second Cohort as they braced for the clash, though in truth, the cohort’s senior centurion was already shouting the appropriate commands, most of the troops largely unaware of even the presence of the tribune.
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