by Ray Gleason
Dai’s fintai would hold our position in the Gate, while Ceriales continued to survey locations for our eventual fortifications.
Troucillus had been right about Metius’ Suebii escort. They had only ridden a couple of thousand passus back down the trail and seemed to be hunkering down to wait for Publicola’s advance. When Dai’s boys came up on them, the Grunni were at first not inclined to attack or retreat. Finally, when their leader realized that any advantage they might have had was lost, they reluctantly withdrew to the northeast. Dai dogged their trail until he was confident that they were gone.
Still, as we rode out that morning, I kept my scouts and Dai’s guides well ahead of my main column, just in case any of the Suebii were still lurking about. None were, and by the third hour, we were following a narrow trail north through a wooded valley. My advance party was waiting for me along the trail.
“A Pen,” one of Dai’s scouts, a warrior called Duglos, addressed me. “Uh bruhn uh gouarteg, the place you seek, is east and north of here on the other side of this ridge.”
“How are we going to get the horses up over this bloody mountain?” I asked him.
“About two hundred passus to the north, there’s a gap,” he answered. “We can walk the horses up a trail between the hills. Near the top of the pass, there’s an open area that is well screened from the Hill of Flocks. We can leave the horses there, climb the hill directly to the east, and from the top we can watch the valley below.”
“You’ve seen this place?” I asked him.
He nodded, “Many times, a Pen. We use it to watch for the Almaenwuhr who are foolish enough to approach Caer Harth directly.”
“Lead us there, Duglos!” I agreed.
Duglos went ahead with Rhodri and Drust. He left his mate, Ewuhn, to guide us. We soon came to the trailhead leading up into the gap. It was narrow and winding, so we dismounted and led our horses in a single file.
Clamriu was not at all happy with this new development; she kept shaking her head, snorting at me, and trying to pull me back down the trail. It was her way of asking me whether I had totally lost my mind. I can’t say I blamed her much. There were less than twenty of us deep in the woods bordering the valley of the Rhenus, which was reportedly filled with hordes of Ariovistus’ blood-thirsty Grunni. And, they had a pretty good idea we were coming.
We soon reached a level area surrounded by high wooded hills to the east and west. The trail that we had been following continued, descending downward between the hills to the south and east. Dugos and my scouts were waiting for us.
“The trail continues into the valley of the Rhenus,” Duglos said. “We leave the horses here and climb the hill on the east. From the top, we will be able to see the valley below.”
I nodded and called to Guithiru. “A Pen, secure the area and establish our horse lines here. I’m going up on top with the scouts to see what we’ve got.”
Guithiru nodded, and we began our climb to the top of the ridge. Duglos was right. From the top, we had a clear view into the valley of the Rhenus. Below us, less than a thousand passus away, was the Hill of Flocks. Its approaches from the south and east could be clearly seen, but to the north and west, directly below our position, the terrain was heavily wooded. Hannibal and all his elephants could be hiding there, and we would never see them.
I sent Drust back down the hill to get Guithiru while I studied the terrain below me. Finally, Guithiru joined us.
“Our primary job,” I began, “is to ensure that the Rhufeiniaid are not walking into a trap. If you were going to set up an ambush with the Hill of Flocks as the primary kill zone, how would you do it?”
After a few heartbeats, Guithiru offered, “I would conceal my men in the forests . . . foot soldiers . . . Horses would not abide those woods . . . I would lure the Rhufeiniaid to the top. Then, I would spring it.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Then Duglos added, “I might position some cavalry on top of the hill or just to the east of it in order to prevent the Rhufeiniaid from escaping to the south.”
“Then, our primary job is to detect any movement by the Almaenwuhr into the north and east flanks of the hill,” I concluded.
There was no disagreement.
“We cannot do that from here,” I announced. “We need to advance scouts into the terrain we cannot see. Duglos and Ewuh, you work your way around the north side of the hill. We’ll send another two-man team, Rhodri and Drust, straight down to cover the west flank. That will seal off any approach to those two danger areas. Does that make sense?”
Again, no disagreement.
“This is very important,” I continued. “Avoid contact with the Almaenwuhr. If you detect movement into the area, you get back here and report.”
Still, agreement.
“This will be our main command and observation post, I continued. “Guithiru and I will be here. Unless you’re prevented, you withdraw to this point. Any questions about that?”
There were none.
I kept going, “Guithiru! Send a couple of the men down the trail, south into the valley below. I want to be sure that the trail is open in case we need it as an escape route. Tell them to scout it all the way down, but they are not to break cover. I do not want our presence here to be detected by the enemy. We’ll also send two men back to the trailhead to make sure that the enemy doesn’t infiltrate in behind us.”
Guithiru nodded.
“We’ll leave a couple of men down the ridge to secure the horse lines. The rest will be up here.”
Then, I turned to Rhodri, “Do you have your hunting horn?”
“Shuh, a Pen,” he said. “It’s tied to my saddle.”
“Mai huhnnu uhn da,” I answered. “That’s good. Bring it here. A series of three quick blasts on the horn is our signal for immediate assembly. You hear that, you get back here as fast as you can. Meet us here or at the horse lines below. Four blasts will mean we’re totally screwed. Four blasts and forget about us. Just get back to friendly territory any way you can.”
Cogitant homines; rident di. Men plan; gods laugh!
I was feeling cocky, confident that I had it all figured out. But, Domina Fortuna’s wheel had already spun and stopped. Nothing I could have done would have changed what was to happen the next morning.
Looking back on these events, I realize that Fortuna had nothing to do with it. It was my own lack of experience as a soldier, especially in facing the Grunni.
Romans are masters of the open field. If they can entice an enemy into opposing them in a set-piece battle, especially when they pick the time and the place, they are invincible. But, they dread the forests, the constrained, dark places where their battlelines cannot be established and the enemy can creep up on them without being seen.
The Grunni are masters of the forests. They can move under the gloomy canopy of its trees swiftly and silently. They can strike quickly, then fade back into the shadows. In those obscure, constricted places, Roman tactics–even the size of their armies–can put them at a disadvantage.
On one policy Augustus and I agree: Roman legions must never cross the Rhenus, except on punitive raids, and then they must quickly withdraw. If the Grunni want a fight to the death, let them come to us.
That next day on the Hill of Flocks, Ariovistus gave me my first lesson in fighting Germans; a few days after that, Caesar gave Ariovistus his final lesson in fighting Romans.
Our recon parties had equipped themselves as if they were setting out on a hunt. They stripped off their armor and went down into the forests, armed only with pugiones and gaia javelins. They reasoned that the weight of their armor would just slow them down. If the Suebii detected them in the woods, all the steel in the world wouldn’t save them, but stealth and swiftness might.
The rest of that first day up on the ridge overlooking the Hill of Flocks was peaceful, almost pastoral. Except for the almost languorous wind drifting across the long grasses, nothing moved in the valley, which stretched away into the distance toward
the golden mists of the Rhenus.
Guithiru and I took turns keeping watch from the ridge. It was a warm, dozy late summer’s day, and the songs of the cicadas and the warm breezes whispering through the trees lulled me to sleep.
The next day started as if it were going merely to replay the day before, until sometime during the second hour, when we detected movement in the valley below. A troop of riders–some thirty or so–approached the hill from the northeast. From their equipment, they seemed to be from the same bunch who had escorted Metius to our camp at Caer Harth. Grunni!
They swept around the Hill of Flocks and rode up to its summit from the south, which was clear enough to accomodate a troop of mounted men.
“Smart!” I heard Guithiru’s voice behind me. “Uh Gweleduth, the Seer, does not want any surprises waiting for him on the hill when he arrives.”
After a while, the Suebii sent a small detachment of six riders south, to screen for the advancing Romans, we assumed. After they disappeared up the valley, we again settled down to wait: we on the ridge, the Suebii on the Hill of Flocks.
I was just crossing over into Morpheus’ dark realm when Guithiru grabbed my shoulder. “Arth . . . to the north . . . riders!”
I quickly recovered my wits and looked out into the valley. At first I saw nothing. Then, I sensed movement out beyond the Hill of Flocks. Eventually my perception of movement resolved itself into distinct figures, then the figures into distinct individuals. I saw riders, this time heavy cavalry, well-armored men on big horses.
“They are not Almaenwuhr!” I heard Guithiru say. Then, I heard his breath whistle through his teeth, “They are Gah’el! Gah’el who fight for uh Gweleduth!”
As the troop drew closer, we could see their tartan colors . . . They were Aineduai . . . Aineduai fighting with the Almaenwuhr . . . We had at last discovered the fintai of Deluuhnu mab Clethguuhno, the renegade prince of the Aineduai!
This was a major development. I was sure the Romans were not expecting to encounter heavy cavalry. The Grunni fought on foot; there was no use for cavalry in their forests. Their horsemen on this side of the Rhenus could barely stay atop their horses. Their equipment and weapons were primitive; they were used mostly for reconnaissance and raids. When they fought, they dismounted, to fight on foot. But, these were trained, well-equipped Gallic horsemen, and Publicola was riding straight into them.
“I need to send back a messenger,” I hissed to Guithiru. “Do we have anyone who can speak Latin?”
“Possum . . . solum me . . . parvus paulum,” Guithiru answered in his faltering Latin. “I can . . . just me . . . a little bit.”
“Then you it is!” I told him. “Ride back to Publicola . . . Report what we’ve seen here . . . Take one of our boys with you . . . Avoid the Almaenwuhr scouting up the valley . . . Get to Publicola.”
Guithiru nodded, then moved back over the ridge down to where we had established our horse lines. I continued to watch the valley below.
The Aineduai fintai established a loose cordon to screen the southern approach to the Hill of Flocks. Military order quickly broke down among them. They dismounted and let their horses graze freely. The men formed informal groups; I saw the pantomime of conversations; some broke out rations and began to eat; others just stretched out on the grass and slept while their horses cropped the grass around them.
We were well into the fourth hour when we spotted another group of riders approaching from the northeast.
Ariovistus had arrived!
He was obvious among the approaching troop. He rode a large, white stallion, and a long, flowing, gray, hooded cloak hung from his shoulders. On his left rode his standard bearer. On his banner I could see the shape of a red serpent cut into pieces on a jet-black field. Below the flag, attached to the staff, were nine small, wooden crosspieces, one for each of his allied tribes.
On Ariovistus’ right rode Deluuhnu mab Clethguuhno. Behind him, his standard bearer carried the colors of the Wuhr Blath, the Wolf clan Aineduai, a snarling wolf’s head with blood-red eyes on a field of the tribal plaid. I was a bit surprised; displaying that banner was the privilege of the clan leader, Deluuhnu’s brother, Duuhruhda, the Uucharix of the Aineduai and the supposed ally of Caesar. Behind Deluuhnu rode six well-equipped and well-mounted riders of his custodes, his personal bodyguard.
Ariovistus also surprised me. I had expected to see a Germanic giant, with piercing blue eyes, a bristling red beard twisted into braids, gilded plate armor, and a high-crowned helmet sprouting eagle’s wings. His muscular arms should have been covered in thick, golden armbands, daring enemy warriors to try and take them from him in battle.
Instead, I saw a smallish man–even by Roman standards–dark-haired and barefaced. He wore no helmet. I could see no armor and no sword. He wore a gray robe and carried no visible weapons, only a long, wooden staff. Then, to add to my surprise, I saw a small, gray-haired woman riding behind him.
Ariovistus’s physical stature did not seem to undermine his authority. As he approached the Hill of Flocks, the Suebii horsemen came down to greet him. I was not at all familiar with the protocol of the Germanic tribes, but by the standards of the Gah’el–even by Roman standards–Ariovistus’ followers seemed subservient, even submissive. They dismounted before him and bowed low as he approached, not daring to meet his eyes, as if he were one of their gods come down into the middle lands.
Even as the Aineduai who had arrived earlier rose to their feet, they focused on Ariovistus and not on their own penefig, Deluuhnu.
I watched as Ariovistus gave instructions to his men. They nodded repeatedly, bowed again, remounted, and ascended the Hill of Flocks. Ariovistus, his standard bearer, and the old woman followed them.
Deluuhnu remained behind, giving instructions to his fintai. Then, he, his signifer, and his custodes followed Ariovistus up the hill. The Aineduai who were left behind took control of their mounts and straightened their picket line in front of the hill. Most did not remount, but remained, waiting in place.
Soon, I saw the Suebii scouts who had gone in search of Publicola’s party galloping toward the Hill of Flocks. As they passed through the Aeduan picket line, the Gallic riders began to remount. The scouts mounted the hill. I could see them address Ariovistus and his party, who stood on the south-facing slope.
One of my men grabbed my right forearm and pointed south up the valley. It took me a few heartbeats, but finally I noticed the flash of sunlight shining off polished steel.
Publicola was approaching the Hill of Flocks.
As the Roman party resolved into recognizable shapes, I could see a lead unit of ten Roman troopers arranged in a cuneus, the wedge formation called the “pig’s snout.” On the Roman left flank, facing the forested high ground, Manius had arrayed another ten men in a column to protect that flank against ambush. On the right flank, he had formed yet another ten-man cuneus, ready to manuever around an enemy’s flank should the lead or flanking units make contact.
Publicola was riding immediately behind the forward wedge. His highly polished armor and helmet sparkled as if he had just descended from Olympus itself. To his right rode the signifer of the cavalry turma, his blood-red dragon pennant snapping jauntily in the breeze. To Publicola’s left rode Mani Talus, and behind Manius, the cornicen, the trumpeter of the turma.
Troucillus rode a few passus behind the command party. He wore no armor, just the white toga with the narrow purple stripe of a Roman knight. Metius, wearing only a dark green tunic, rode slightly behind Troucillus. Behind Metius rode Guithiru, who remained aloof from the Roman groupings.
Gratias dis! I thought when I spotted Guithiru. The Romans had been warned of the Gallic cavalry.
The Aineduai who were screening in front of the Hill of Flocks straightened their picket line as the Roman party came into sight.
This movement was seen by the Romans. Manius moved forward to the leading cuneus and put his men into a canter in order to open some distance between them and the main par
ty. As soon as he had a good tactical separation in which to manuever his troop, he brought them back to a trot. Manius was too good an officer to wind his mounts while approaching possible enemy contact.
I was beginning to relax, knowing that Guithiru had gotten through and warned Publicola of the presence of a heavy cavalry on the objective. Then, I heard a horn blast. Although it came from the Hill of Flocks, I thought for a heartbeat that one of my men had sounded it. Then, I heard the signal again from Ariovistus’ position.
I wondered whether this was some sort of welcoming signal that the Suebii use in situations like this . . . if not a welcome, a sign of a truce. Then, I heard movement climbing toward me from the ridgeline below. A voice called in Gah’el, “A Pen! It’s me! Duglos!”
The man entered the clearing, his face bright red from the exertion of climbing the ridge almost at a run. He doubled over, panting.
“A Pen,” he gasped. “Almaenwuhr . . . many . . . on foot . . . north . . . north of the hill—”
“What?” I countered, not wanting to believe what I had heard. “Almaenwuhr! Where?”
Duglos straightened up and pointed beyond the Hill of Flocks. “Coming through those hills . . . coming fast . . . We barely escaped them.”
I looked where Duglos had indicated and saw only the tops of the trees, but I could visualize what was about to happen below. Ariovistus would draw the Roman party onto the hill where they would be overwhelmed by his infantry pouring out of the trees.
“Where’s Ewuhn?” I asked Duglos.
“He goes . . . he goes to collect Rhodri and Drust . . . before they’re trapped!”
I looked down into the valley below. The Roman point element was less than a hundred passus in front of the Aeduan picket line. I had to keep them from getting closer! They must not climb the Hill of Flocks! It was Ariovistus’ death trap!
I realized then that Manius and I had coordinated no danger signal . . . no signal to tell the Romans to clear off . . . retreat immediately . . . danger close!