by C. R. May
Taking a deep breath, Solemis took the only action he could if he were to stand a chance of escape. Ignoring the fact that he would be the only man wearing trews in the entire clearing, he knew that he had no option other than to stand and calmly walk away. He thanked the gods that he had worn his red cloak that day despite the fierce heat. He had noticed that the senior Romans tended to wear a similar shade and it could only help. It had been a gift from Aia, and he always wore it for luck when battle seemed imminent; today he would find out if he had been mistaken.
He rose and walked as calmly as he could manage towards the safety of the tree line. Without daring to look to left or right, he waited for the cry of alarm as each step brought him closer to safety until, with an ease which he could barely believe, he passed from the harsh light of the field into the cool embrace of the shadows. As he began to breathe more easily the bulk of Albiomaros emerged from behind a tree, his features split with a grin. ‘Nice stroll?’
Solemis stifled a laugh as the tension of the moment was released. They were far from clear and could still be discovered at any moment. His friend indicated a nearby bush with a flick of his chin, and Solemis could just make out a pair of feet protruding from the base. ‘Give me a hand with Titus here. If we can dump him further away they may think that he has just changed his mind about taking on the savages after all and made a run for it.’
Solemis nodded. ‘Push the bloodied leaf mould further into the thicket. It’s the best we can do.’
Solemis helped Albiomaros to hoist the dead Roman onto his shoulders and then scooped the worst of the bloody leafage into the hollow of a tree. A quick last scan of the area told him that they had done the best that they could to cover up the killing, and snatching up the bag containing the tallies the young chieftain followed on.
Nine
The outriders exchanged looks of concern as their cheerful greetings were ignored by the Horsetails who thundered past without a glance. Barely a mile behind them the army of the Senones, twenty-thousand strong, were coming on fast as they sought to close the distance to the city that had treated them with such disdain.
Solemis reined in as he reached the column that was resting in the shade of the tree lined road, and he allowed a small smile to crease his features as he contrasted the demeanour of the two armies. The Celts had squatted where they came to a halt on the roadway, still set in their clans and ready for action at a moment’s notice. Brennus himself sat in the roadway at their head as he chewed the same food and shared his wine with even the youngest, downy-cheeked clansmen. The tribal chieftain saw Solemis approach and rose to his feet, brushing the road dust from the seat of his trews as he did so. The small group with him also stood as they noticed the look on Solemis’ face, and they listened in alarm as he breathlessly reported his findings to Brennus. ‘They are only five miles ahead of us.’
Brennus was equally shocked. ‘Five miles? We have seen no scouts. Is it an ambush or are they behind prepared positions?’
Solemis shook his head as he reached out for his chieftain’s amphora. Swilling the wine, he spat the road dust from his mouth onto the verge. ‘Neither – they are taking a leisurely meal. The commander has pitched a magnificent tent while the men of the army are wandering about the plain or laying about, talking in groups.’ Solemis gripped his chieftain’s sleeve as the light of vengeance burned in his eyes. ‘We have them, Brennus. They have no idea that we are so close!’
Brennus made a fist and grinned. Turning back, he raised his arm and called back along the column. ‘Chieftains!’
The army rose to its feet with a clatter as their leaders hurried forward. The sense of urgency had been obvious from the war leader’s tone, and dozens of men turned aside to empty their bladders where they stood as the prospect of battle suddenly loomed large. Brennus paced the road impatiently as the last of the clan chieftains rode up and dismounted. The army of the Senones covered almost two miles of the Via Cassia, and Solemis looked on with pride as the warriors instinctively checked their weapons and adjusted armour as they waited for instructions.
Brennus began as the last men to arrive hastened across. ‘The enemy are lounging about in the sun only five miles ahead of us.’ He turned to Solemis, who had been counting out the sticks from his bag. ‘How many are there, Solemis?’
He finished counting the tallies and tossed them aside. ‘Two legions. That’s six thousand spearmen, plus two thousand light skirmishers.’
Brennus’ face lit up. ‘Equites?’
Solemis smiled and shook his head. ‘Only fifty or so. Unless they are following on I would say that they must still be in the south, searching for raiders.’
The chieftains laughed. Solemis’ attacks in the Latium had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Not only were the Romans blundering blindly forward but they would be fighting a battle with badly depleted numbers. Brennus’ expression became serious as he pumped Solemis for information. ‘Describe the place where they are, quickly now.’
The good humour died away and the expressions on the faces of the chieftains hardened as they caught the mood. Their war leader was reaching a decision, and they listened intently.
‘The Tiberis meanders there between two sets of hills. The Romans are encamped on the left bank as we look at it, which carries the road – this road. It is,’ Solemis paused and pulled a face as he estimated the width of the plain, ‘roughly one mile wide there. It varies due to the winding nature of the river. The road keeps to the rising ground away from the floodplain and hugs the side of a wood. A small, steep sided brook emerges from the hills close to their position and runs alongside the road for about a mile before it enters the Tiberis. A long, low hillock stands hard on to the wood there. It is not tree-covered like the other hills; they may use it as a vantage point to threaten our flank if we cannot deny it to them. It’s where I hid as I watched them arrive.’
Brennus looked at him earnestly as he spat out a question. ‘Yes, but you said that they were eating. I need to know what they ate.’
Solemis gaped before Brennus’ face creased into a broad smile. The other chieftains laughed as their war leader clapped Solemis on the shoulder. ‘A jest, Solemis – we could not have asked for a more detailed description of their numbers and disposition, well done.’
Brennus hugged the bemused Horsetail affectionately to him and turned to the group. The chieftains were clearly buoyed up by their leader’s confidence and good humour, and they strained like wolfhounds at the leash. ‘You all know the place that has been assigned to your clan in the battle line. The men are fed and rested. We keep to the road and jog the five miles to this place.’ He turned to Solemis and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘The Horsetails will lead us and halt their mounts as the enemy come into sight.’ Looking back to the group he continued. ‘That will be the sign for the clans to deploy from the roadway into the battle line. Don’t stop, just fan out from the road, carnyx to the fore, and charge on my signal. We can hit these bastards before they know we are coming and roll over them.’ He paused and scanned the faces of the clan leaders, the excitement of the moment reflected in his eyes. ‘Any questions, make them quick ones.’
Caturix spoke up. ‘Are there any obstacles in our path, Solemis? Settlements or bridges that might slow us down?’
Brennus looked across and raised his brow. ‘It’s a good question.’
Solemis smiled and shook his head. ‘Nothing, it’s a clear road all the way to the enemy camp.’
Brennus quickly scanned the group. ‘Is that it? Good,’ he concluded. ‘Let’s get going!’
As the chieftains wished each other luck and began to hurry back to their clans, Solemis called across to his friend. ‘Big brother!’
Caturix turned back as the other chieftains pushed past, grinning widely despite the urgency of the moment. He had begun to call Solemis little brother on the journey across the Alpes. Crixos had paired the two as he sought confirmation that the young Senone was a suitable suitor for his
only daughter, and it had been Solemis’ first indication that he might be successful.
‘The Fabii are with the army – I saw them.’
Caturix’s features broke into a lupine smile and he gave a curt nod before he hurried back to his clan. Today was the day – today he would take the blood price for the death of his father.
* * *
The valley of the Tiberis sweltered under a sapphire sky as the heat of the day pressed down on the Roman officers. The praetorium was airless, and Sulpicius wondered if it would be better to abandon it altogether and hold the briefing in the open air after all. He turned the idea over in his mind for a moment before deciding against it. The chairs were lined up in a neat row now, and he would savour the moment as he presided over them. It was worth the discomfort.
He neither possessed – nor particularly aspired to possess – the natural aura of military command that a few of the men present seemed to exude almost effortlessly. He was not a military man, but it had always been the duty of every free citizen, great or small, to serve in the army when called upon. The politician in him recognised the value of a great victory to his further advancement, and the barbarians had happened along at just the right time. He would have preferred if the other cities of Latium had sent their contingents to the army as had been agreed under the terms of Cassius’ treaty. After all, it had only been in effect for six years, but he could understand their reluctance. They had suffered under the depredations of the Celts over the course of the last few weeks, and Rome had sent her equites to support them as the terms of the treaty dictated. They had yet to return when word had reached the city that the barbarians were coming against them, and although the more timid among his colleagues had advised him to await their return time was against them – the barbarians were moving too quickly. Still, he reflected, it would make his removal of the threat all the more impressive.
He glanced up as the Fabii entered the tent to take the last of the places and greeted them with a vacuous smile. Numerius stifled a yawn as his commander began his address. ‘Thank you, gentlemen. Now that we have all arrived I shall outline our plan of attack. As you are all aware, I expect to come face to face with the barbarian army sometime this evening. We shall of course construct a marching camp and—’
Numerius watched as a crane fly bounced repeatedly against the canvas ceiling in an effort to escape and allowed himself a surreptitious smile as the general droned on in his irritating way.
I know how you feel, little one!
To face the man across the floor of the senate house was bad enough, but to receive a lecture in the field was more than he could be expected to bear. Quintus was always attentive; he would let him know the salient points later. As the last to arrive the brothers had taken the only places remaining, and Numerius was near enough to the entrance to the command tent to be the first officer to notice the sound. His first thoughts were that he had heard the melancholy lowing of a cow as it was slaughtered to provide meat for the men, but the sound seemed to rise and fall and show no sign of coming to the customary abrupt end. As his mind began to concentrate on the mysterious sound, another added itself to the rising din. Ignoring the others who seemed to be blissfully unaware of the commotion outside, he left his seat and peeled back the tent flap. He was dimly aware that Sulpicius had stopped speaking and his brother, Quintus, came to his side and gripped his arm, startling him. They exchanged a look of horror as they reached the same conclusion. ‘They are here!’
* * *
Solemis peered into the heat haze as he slowed his mount to a walk. The sun was high overhead now and the heat seemed to radiate back from the valley sides as it narrowed to a choke point. It would have been the ideal place for the Romans to draw up their army, and he thanked Camulos that they had not taken the opportunity. He had missed the small detail on his mad dash north, and he hoped that the other chieftains would be too caught up in their battle fervour to notice. Once through the gap he was back on familiar territory, and his heart leapt as he saw the end of the long hillock appear away to his left. The poor visibility had caused him to practically run onto the Roman positions, and he halted Tantibus and waited for the rest of his clan to draw up alongside him.
They were within a mile of the enemy, and there was still no sign of a response. No guards had been posted and not even a solitary horseman had scouted the road ahead. It could only be the work of the gods, and Solemis promised that he would repay their generosity with gold and weapons once victory was theirs.
Albiomaros came up and threw him a lopsided grin, the owl face above his helm glinting in the sunlight as he hefted his shield and kissed the blade of his spear for luck. Solemis raised his head proudly and called down the line as the thunderous rumble made by thousands of heavily armed men filled the bowl. Without glancing back he knew that the army had reached them and was deploying in his wake. Within moments the carnyx players would walk proud of the line and fill the valley with their mournful notes; he was determined that the war horn of the Horsetails should be the very first to shake the Romans from their slumbers. ‘Cotos, I believe that we told them to listen for the sound of our battle swine when the Bel Fires had burned and the snows had retreated.’ He looked sidelong and grinned. ‘Shall we keep our promise?’
Cotos nodded proudly and walked his mount forward a dozen steps. As he spat to clear his mouth and raised the great boar headed horn to his lips, Solemis saw that the haze had lifted to reveal the enemy still at rest, the tips of their spears points of light as they rested in bundles, sheaf-like, on the plain.
The mournful howl rose into the sultry air and Solemis watched as heads were turned their way for the first time. Within moments a blast of noise came from the army to his rear, and Solemis felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the clans beat their shields and called their challenges.
A group of druids emerged from the centre of the line, pushing a captive before them. Distinctive in their brown clothing and shaved brows, the leading man thrust a spear into the captive’s belly as his companions slashed at him with their crescent shaped hand blades. The prisoner fell to the ground and the druids studied his agonised death pangs. Close by, Brennus’ face looked pensive as he waited for the gods to give their blessings to his plan, but within moments the chief druid stood and announced that the omens were good and a great roar of joy erupted from the Senone ranks. Brennus beamed and raised his spear in salute as Solemis watched his chieftain mount up and canter along the length of the shield wall.
* * *
Numerius turned and called across the upturned faces of his brother officers as the sound of the Gaulish battle line rolled down upon them. ‘Sulpicius…’ He paused and drew himself upright as he recalled the man’s sneering comment from earlier that day. ‘Commander, the Gauls have decided not to wait until we have eaten. What are your orders?’
He watched as the man stood, frozen in indecision, and shook his head in dismay. ‘I will assemble the men into their formations while you decide where you would like to position them.’ Numerius hastened off as the howls of the barbarian army rose and fell away to his right. The men of the army of Rome seemed transfixed by the barbarous nature of the sound, and the majority stood and stared into the haze in disbelief. Numerius called out and they turned to him instinctively. ‘Gather into your centuries in battle order, rorarii to the rear: NOW!’
As men began to come alive to the danger, he spotted a burly centurion calmly indicating where the front row of the phalanx should draw up into its battle array. It was a well-chosen spot given the limitations of the field, and Numerius trotted across. ‘Centurion: what do they call you?’
Despite the desperation of their situation the man saluted and pulled a small smile. Numerius instinctively knew that he was a man who could be relied upon. Every army possessed a smattering of such individuals who seemed to grow happier the bleaker the situation became. He had been lucky enough to have more than his fair share in the army that he had commanded wh
en the Volscian City of Anxur had fallen to him, and he knew they were men he could rely upon.
‘Quintus Caedicius, tribune, although the men have several other names for me.’
Numerius snorted as the men ran in all directions around them. ‘Yes, I am sure that they do.’ He glanced back at the praetorium as the other officers began to emerge and disperse to their centuries. There was still no sign of either Sulpicius or Fidenas, so he turned back to the centurion. ‘Caedicius: hold the centre until General Sulpicius arrives. I will send the centuries to you here, and I want you to get them into line as quickly as you can.’
Everywhere men were snatching up lances and javelins as they organised themselves into their centuries and rushed to the front line. Sulpicius finally emerged from the praetorium and walked calmly across. Impending catastrophe or not, it was beneath a patrician’s dignitas to panic, and Numerius found that he had finally discovered a quality in his commander of which he approved. ‘Thank you, Numerius. I shall take over now.’ He glanced back at the Gauls who were now clearly in view at the point where the Allia Brook emerged from behind the curious long hill. ‘A personal briefing then, as it would appear that you could not wait like the others.’
