Fronto explained the contingency plan to the others as the legions backed in perfect unison from the field. Longinus, however, reached the cavalry as they were starting to pull back. Looking around, he spotted Varus and Ingenuus and waved them over.
‘Right, lads. We’ve got permission to draw the bastards out and give them a beating. The legions are heading back to camp, but the Eight and the Tenth will be on standby to help if we need them. I need you to relay all the orders to the native contingents and to the regular officers. We’re going to split into three wings. Varus, you take the right. Ingenuus: the left. I’ll lead the central unit. We should have around six alae each, and probably more auxilia besides.’
Varus, the prefect of the Ninth and a longstanding companion of Longinus, sat up straight in his saddle.
‘What’s the plan sir?’
‘We’re going to move to just outside missile range of the German camp. When we’re in position, each of you is going to make one major sweep into range with all of your troops carrying spare spears. A volley at the defenders will hopefully incense them enough that they’ll come out and attack. Make the sweep quick, though, and then pull back to the line. I want minimal losses.’
Ingenuus nodded and gestured to the commander.
‘And what will the central section be doing sir?’
‘I’ll be dividing my unit into two and doing the same as you, but in both directions at once.’
Varus smiled. It was a little disconcerting, due to the unfortunate scar that gave him a lopsided mouth and a slight hare lip.
‘We’ve got a lot of people among the auxilia that will speak their language, sir. Maybe we should get them to egg the Germans on; insult them and so forth?’
‘Good, yes. Pass the word around the auxilia. Caesar’s worried that we’ll all vanish under the weight of Germans. Let’s show him just what cavalry can do, eh?’
Varus looked up again.
‘One last thing sir, just for clarity. Formation? Are we going to do the bull horns? Closing the door from either side? A feigned withdrawal?’
Longinus smiled.
‘We’ll be starting in bull horn formation. We’ll stay like that as long as it’s advantageous, then feign a withdrawal and hopefully draw them in so that you two can come round and finish them.’
The three men grinned at each other.
‘Let’s go irritate some Germans.’
Within moments the field was clear of foot troops, and the cavalry had separated into three wings. The thousands of horses trotted gently and slowly across the field as the German camp came gradually into full sight. Caesar had been right. Marching on the camp would have been extremely costly in men. For all its lack of adequate defences, the camp was huge and very well-defended, positioned perfectly to allow little chance of breaking an easy way in.
The enemy cavalry were not immediately obvious, with individual pockets of warriors defending the woven stockade and the cavalry further back and out of sight.
Longinus watched as a few missiles started to hurtle through the air, falling short of the Roman force. Nice of the Germans to help him judge a safe distance. He rode forward a little longer and held up his hand. The wing came to a stop, falling into prefect lines. Behind him, two alae of regular cavalry sat between slightly larger numbers of auxiliaries. The wings under Ingenuus and Varus pulled slightly further forward, though at an oblique angle and still very much out of the range of German missiles. Both the outer wings ran with only one regular ala and large numbers of auxilia. Along the lines of men, Longinus could just see the other two commanders. Each held up an arm, indicating they were in position and awaiting the order. Longinus watched the missiles continue to fall short and smiled. No rush. Might as well let them use as much ammunition as possible.
It took a while for the more important German warriors to stop their lessers wasting ammunition. Finally it stopped altogether and a mass of cries and jeers rose from the camp. Longinus made a gesture with his hand and the Gaulish auxiliaries let go with a mass of jeering of their own. The noise for a few moments was deafening and, somewhere near the height of the racket, Longinus made another tugging gesture with his raised arm and the cavalry swept forward on all sides.
To either side of the commander, one veteran ala and well over a thousand Gauls charged obliquely forward, sweeping off to the flank, parallel with the fort front.
Though only a half of the cavalry at best had a spare weapon for a missile, each one was hurled or fired into the camp and the collective screams of hundreds of Germans reached the ears of the Romans even above the thundering of hooves.
Longinus wheeled the two units and brought them back out of range of the enemy missiles just as the irate defenders began to launch their ammunition impotently across the turf. Once they were back in position, he glanced to either side and was satisfied to see that his two lieutenants had performed their manoeuvres admirably. Precious few Roman bodies filled the intervening space, though the German defenders shouted defiance from among hundreds of dead and wounded. Longinus began to consider returning to his own camp for more missile weapons. The effect had been very impressive, but the chances of them pulling off the same manoeuvre twice with such success were too small to contemplate.
He was just considering how his cavalry could further aggravate the Germans when noises from either side of the camp announced the release of the enemy horse.
The Germans came bolting through set positions in their defences to either side. Thousands of them hurtled out in an unruly mass. Longinus smiled. Disorganised cavalry were as much a danger to their comrades as to the enemy. With two more signals, he gave the order to fall back and the entire Roman line turned and rode several hundred paces across the field before falling back into line facing the Germans.
Longinus was impressed, though a little disconcerted, to find that the cavalry had not charged en masse after the Roman line, but had formed up in front of the fort. Since they were still well spaced and unruly, he wondered what they were waiting for until he saw individual warriors who had climbed over the barricades falling into position beside the horses. The men were varied in height, colour and dress, but were uniformly well built and impressive. The commander guessed that these men were specifically attached to the cavalry, and he was intrigued as to what the cavalry could gain from such a hampering addition.
Slowly, once they were in position, the Germans started to move forward. They moved purposefully, not in a charge, but at a steady pace that suited both horses and footmen. Longinus gave the orders with gestures and the left and right wings under their prefects began to drift a little further away from the central body.
Longinus watched intently as the Germans made for the centre, devoid of tactical inspiration. This, of course, was why the Roman cavalry was so much more effective. Rather than acting on individual whim, they worked on the organised manoeuvres set by tactical officers. Admittedly most of the auxiliary cavalry broke down into their own fighting styles as soon as the initial moves were made, but by that time the strategy would have paid off and the Romans would have devolved to following the commands of their decurions in small units.
The Germans moved in resolutely, shouting curses in their guttural language. Once Longinus judged the position correct, he held up his arm and the two wings came around into the sides of the German mass.
Under normal circumstances, a manoeuvre such as this would confuse and dishearten the foe, and the bulk of the surviving enemies would turn and bolt through the remaining space. Perhaps Longinus had underestimated the Germans. With a footman attached to each cavalryman, the horses made a lunge at the Roman line and then pulled back next to their guardian footmen. When the Roman cavalry came to return the favour, they were faced with two opponents.
Longinus thought quickly. The initial volley had done a lot of damage, but here and now, with the current tactics of the Germans, there could be a massacre. He was interrupted from his train of thought as a German lashed out at him with a spear. The ma
n was too far away for a truly effective attack, but the tip of the spear dragged across Bucephalus’ shoulder. The black Galician reared and Longinus held on tight to remain in the saddle. He glanced down as he calmed to horse and saw the fresh blood flowing from the horse.
‘Bastard. Come here!’
He set Bucephalus into a run and reached his long cavalry sword up and out behind him. He had, as he often did, elected not to take a shield into battle, and his other hand reached down into the pouch at his side. As he neared the German, the spear was levelled at his chest. The footman stepped forward and swung back his heavy Celtic blade. At the last moment, He pulled his fist from the bag and flung a handful of pebbles at the enemy rider. The spear wavered as the man rolled back in his saddle, stunned for a moment. A moment was all Longinus needed. The footman was unprepared, believing his opponent was reaching for the rider. Longinus’ sword swept down and the German’s head leapt from his shoulders and disappeared in the mass of men and horses. As the momentum of the huge swing carried the blade round, he swung the tip up and, still slick with the blood of the footman, it scythed into the back of the rider. His arms flew up, the spear discarded, and flopped backwards into the saddle.
Pausing only to reach down and pat Bucephalus on the shoulder near the wound, he pulled himself together and surveyed the field.
He shouted at the top of his voice, which was becoming hoarse and scratchy trying to reach over the din of battle.
‘Sound the fall back.’
Somewhere near the back of the unit, the man sitting with a straight horn blasted out several notes and the Roman column pulled back. The Germans seemed uncertain for a moment and dithered as Longinus wheeled his men and rode off in the direction of his camp. As he went, he shouted orders to the prefects and decurions. Each turma of men separated and made off in its own direction. Jeering, the Germans followed the small groups, splitting off into similar sized units themselves.
At a further blast from the horn, the fleeing turmae led by Varus turned and engaged the Germans who, surprised, suddenly realised that they had outpaced their footmen. As he ordered the men into the fray, he surveyed the field and was satisfied to see that the manoeuvre had generally paid off, with few groups hard pressed. He joined the men, swinging with his cavalry sword and watching the spray of German blood arc through the air like a fountain. A moment later, the couple of dozen footmen attached to the cavalry arrived to discover that only three or four riders still sat their horses.
Varus grinned and shouted to his men.
‘Sound the retreat. Time to head back.’
Across the field turmae were sounding the retreat and men were wheeling and heading for the camp before the footmen could get close enough to engage. Here and there a unit failed to pull back in time and met with a gruesome end at the ends of spears and swords but, on the whole, the Roman forces pulled out with little trouble and rode back across the turf. The more brave or foolhardy of the Germans chased the Roman units across the field but pulled up short when they saw the cavalry units passing through the widely spaced ranks of the Eighth and Tenth Legions. As soon as the horses were through, the wall closed and thousands of men began to bang the hilts of their swords on the rim of their shields.
Longinus reined in beside Fronto and Balbus.
‘Well that was fun!’
Fronto took a look along the line.
‘You came back a bit of a shambles. How’d it go?’
Longinus grinned.
‘A bit hairy at times, but I think we got at least two kills for every one of theirs! Now let’s get back into camp and I can tell the general how it all went before we go back to your tent and celebrate with that nice little hoard of wine I know you keep behind the chest!’
* * * * *
Velius was grumbling as usual.
‘Why the hell we have to do this is totally beyond me.’
Priscus rolled his eyes skywards at Fronto and then turned to the training centurion.
‘Because it’s important that we get more grain, so we need to control the route for supplies.’
Velius looked around at the column, dropping their kit and separating out into the appropriate units.
‘But it’s stupid! We build a camp, so the German builds a camp between us and the supplies. Then we come round them at a hell of a distance and build another bloody camp between them and the grain. What’s to stop them moving the next morning and building a new camp and doing it all over again?’
Fronto sighed and reached over in front of Priscus to gesture at the older man.
‘Listen! We’re building a new camp. The position’s perfect. They can’t get round this one to cut us off again. Once we’re in there we’ll have two camps, one on either side of them. There’s no discussion; no argument and no chance of changes, so stop moaning about it or I’ll have someone bury you up to the neck while the fossa’s dug.’
The Seventh and Eighth Legions had been left at the large camp, along with half the cavalry under Varus. The rest of the army had left while it was still dark, and by dawn they had already skirted the German camp and were beyond it. The Germans became aware of the Roman column only when they had no hope of preventing them passing. By the time the alarm had gone up and the few skirmishers had come out, the legions had reached their new position less than a mile beyond the German camp. Now the engineers were unpacking their gear ready to build the new fortifications.
The few German skirmishers had made a feeble attempt to stop the Roman line forming, but they had been caught enough by surprise that the legions were forming before more than a score of Germans could muster. Fronto knew that a more concerted attack would be coming, but not yet. Ariovistus would have to try and stop them building a camp here, and so the four legions were deploying in Caesar’s favoured formation. The first four cohorts of each legion would create a front line against German attack. They would be supported by a second line of three cohorts from each legion, slightly wider spread. The third line would carry out the construction of the new camp under the watchful eye of the senior engineers.
And so it stood now. The cohorts were deploying in formation, while the engineers marked out the dimensions of the new camp, smaller than the original, due to the terrain and the planned occupants.
Longinus’ cavalry were set in two wings, one at each end of the line, with the commander himself on the left and prefect Ingenuus leading the right.
Fronto, his head still tender and his shoulder and leg sore, sat between the two lines of defence astride his horse. From here he could clearly see the half mile to the German defences. The few skirmishers were still visible, but staying well out of the way of the auxiliary slingers and archers that graced the Roman defensive line. He could see a force building up at the wall of the German camp like a wave behind a dam.
‘Steady lads. Close up the formation. Any moment now there’s going to be a flood of the bastards pour across that grass and into us. We’ve got to hold ‘em off until the engineers are finished.’
One of the optios near the back of the first line looked around and up at Fronto. The legate recognised the junior optio from somewhere.
‘How long d’you think it’s going to be, sir?’
‘We’ll be here a couple of hours and the bastards will keep coming at us until we’re done.’
‘What happens then, sir?’
‘Us and the Eleventh get to settle into the camp and dig our heels in. We’ll have some of the auxilia with us and half the cavalry will be staying. The rest head back to the big camp. We’re going to guard the supply line.’
From somewhere near the front, Priscus’ voice sounded across the troops.
‘Arius, do you never stop asking bloody questions? Concentrate on the job at hand.’
Arius jumped at the primus pilus’ voice and jerked straight as a rod. Fronto smiled.
‘Relax lad. Just do your job.’
A voice from off to one side of the line called out.
‘They�
��re coming!’
Fronto put his hand to his brow, shading his eyes from the early morning sunlight. Sure enough, the wicker walls had opened and men, both running and riding, came pouring through, though it would take them long moments to cross the field and engage. Fronto turned to look over the second line and saw Tetricus giving out instructions to a number of engineers.
‘Tetricus! Make the front bank wide enough to support artillery!’
Tetricus shouted back over the mass.
‘Already on it, sir.’
‘And get the front bank built first.’
Tetricus grinned.
‘Already on it, sir. And before you ask, the ballistae are here and ready to be put in position as soon as the bank’s up.’
Fronto grinned back at him.
‘I’ll just let you do your job, shall I?’
He turned back to watch the advancing Germans. He would have very much liked artillery support from the start, but in less than an hour they would be in position and ready anyway.
‘Centurions! The first volley of pila at thirty paces. Second at twenty.’
The front ranks of men drew back their arms, preparing the pila for attack. As the Germans pulled closer and closer, Fronto was surprised to find that Ariovistus had been very careful and reserved with the force he committed. Plenty of horses, so probably all his cavalry, but only enough foot to make it even with the Roman defence. They were light skirmishing troops too so, as long as the shield wall held, they should be able to keep the enemy at bay for hours.
Arius, the young optio in front of Fronto, craned his neck and addressed his commander again.
‘Sir? Why aren’t the cavalry coming forward to engage the enemy horse?’
Fronto smiled.
‘The cavalry are here to provide support. They had a hard fight yesterday while we supported them.’
‘So we’re facing the cavalry on foot?’
‘Don’t worry lad. Just listen out for your centurion’s orders.’
The young man turned back to face the enemy as Fronto watched the cavalry getting closer. Soon they would crash into the front ranks of the legions. He judged the distance. A little closer perhaps…
Marius' Mules Anthology Volume 1 Page 41
