by Miller, Ian
"Sorry, sir," the Centurion said. "The men didn't bring their stakes. It was not intended to camp and . . ."
"Then we'll have to rely on the stakes just cut," Gaius nodded. "Fix the long ones to the cart like this," and he wedged it in place, with a point sticking forward, a formidable obstacle to a horse attempting to leap the cart.
"Get to it!" the Centurion ordered.
"You two!" Gaius said to two of the soldiers who were standing back, as there was no room for them. "Go gather up anything that will burn. Timothy, find a spot near the bridge and get a fire started. Centurion?"
"Sir?"
"Who are your two best archers?"
"Hardly matters," the Centurion replied. "We have no bows . . ."
"If you have two people who can use a bow, there are four bows and a pile of arrows in my cart. Timothy and I shall use two. Find two others."
The Centurion nodded, and selected two soldiers.
"You lot," Gaius turned towards the two soldiers who had been gathering up dry wood and leaves. "Pack that cart with whatever will burn, but don't light it yet. Timothy, make sure that fire is going well, and get some good sized sticks burning, so we can throw them on the cart and get it to burn well when we have to. You other soldiers, gather stones for your slings if you've got them, then line up on the side of the bridge. What we do is this. If horses charge, slingers will throw at riders before they reach the bridge, archers only shoot at enemy on the bridge. Three of you take these longest stakes, and impale anyone trying to leap across the cart. If they come on foot, Centurion, form lines of three on the bridge to deal with anyone clambering over the cart. And if you have any Gods who smile on you, now would be as good a time as any to ask for assistance!"
The sound of horses was now clear, and the riders stormed up a small rise and into view. Then they slowed, staring at the bridge. About six of them clearly believed they could leap across the cart, so they formed up for the charge.
"Slingers, throw when you think you can hit. Archers, steady . . . steady . . ." The horsemen were almost on the bridge when one fell off, struck by a stone. "Steady . . ." Gaius raised his own bow. "Steady . . . Fire!" Another man was struck by a stone, and fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder and swearing. Then three men fell, arrows in their chest. Gaius quickly took another arrow and let fly at the remaining horseman who was unsure of what to do. He watched with satisfaction as the target slid to the ground.
"Hold!" Gaius ordered.
The raiders were now unsure of what to do. They had clearly realized that the width of the bridge would permit no more than two horses at a time, or perhaps three foot-soldiers with room to wield weapons. While the raiders had clear numerical superiority, it was of no immediate value in a frontal charge. The obvious next step was to try to shoot the defenders with arrows, and a small group of archers were assembling.
"Timothy," Gaius said, "help the young lady put the wounded on the cart." He turned towards the young woman and asked, "Can you manage to drive a horse and cart?"
"Of course, but . . ."
"No buts!" Gaius said firmly. "Take the wounded and get the hell out of here, but leave as many horses as you can. Take the cart to the legion base at Lussonium, and remember, it's my cart, and my belongings."
"There may be more wounded. I should stay and . . ." she began.
"There will be more wounded," Gaius said harshly, "and more dead but that cart full of wounded can only go so fast. If it stays, we have to hold or die. But if we can buy you enough time, those remaining horses give the rest of us some chance. Now go, and don't argue!" He then turned his back on her, to survey the enemy.
She stared at him in anger, until Timothy took her hand. "There's not much point in fixing their wounds and leaving them to be butchered," he shrugged. "Once those archers come, there's no way to protect the wounded."
She looked at him, was about to say something, then thought better of it. Some of the larger objects were thrown from the cart to make way for the wounded, but she was surprised to see Timothy carefully put one box that she had taken off back onto the cart.
"If Gaius survives this," he grinned, "he won't thank you for throwing away his most valuable possessions!"
"It's interesting to know that he trusts me with them," she retorted.
"Take a look!" Timothy shrugged. "He's betting you're hardly interested."
Curiosity did get the better of her, and while Timothy was helping a wounded soldier up onto the cart, she opened the first box. There were a number of bits of metal, with really strange ridges carved on them, going around and around, with little or no artistic merit. An enormous amount of work for no point! Then there were these funny looking square things, with holes in the middle, and they had carvings too!
"You could try helping with the wounded," Gaius remarked. She looked around to see her watching her, with a look of amusement on his face.
"I'm not going to steal them," she said, her face going a slight red.
"I didn't think you would," he shrugged, "but the enemy are finally getting organized, and the sooner you lot are out of here, the better."
She nodded, and helped Timothy get another soldier onto the cart.
Eventually, she climbed onto the front of the cart and flicked the reins. As the cart began to move forwards, she looked over her shoulder. This stranger was organizing the men to form a shelter with the locked shields.
Gaius had noticed that the archers alone had marched forward. He and his men sheltered behind the shields in the approved legionary fashion as the arrows rained down, and as usual the shield wall offered almost total protection, and no damage was done. Then three of the braver ones could be heard mounting the barricade. A shield wall as wide as the bridge advanced, and the thrusting gladii quickly left three badly wounded draped on the top of the barricade. The Romans drew back, to let the enemy's moans fill the air.
The enemy's next move was to form a small file of foot soldiers. As they marched forward, the four Roman archers poured three volleys into them. Men began dropping, the file faltered, then they began to retreat.
The Roman soldiers were silent. They knew that by now the enemy must decide to launch a full attack, or withdraw. The enemy began to rearrange themselves into an attack formation, with foot soldiers at the front and archers to the rear. The cavalry were to the side. As the formation advanced Gaius watched, and then, just as the cavalry began to look as if it might offer a charge, he jumped up onto the barricade.
"You saw that cart go!" he yelled. "That contained all the valuables. You're going to die for nothing!"
"We'll kill you!"
"Maybe, but at what cost, for what? Go while you can!"
The enemy paused, there was some discussion, then the formation began to move forward again. Gaius jumped back down to safety.
The enemy had fired several volleys of arrows, none of which did any damage, before Gaius ordered the first response. The first four arrows went on expected trajectories, but when the enemy raised their shields for protection, another four arrows were loosed on low flat trajectories. Three men fell. Then the enemy began to charge.
Seven volleys were fired before the enemy reached the barricade. Now the enemy had to stop firing arrows, but they could still only get three to four men on the bridge at a time. Gaius had ordered three Romans to stand abreast, shield locked, at the barricade, and three more behind. Further back, and to the sides of the bridge, the four with bows sent every arrow they could find into the enemy.
The defence held. The men attacking the barricade could not stand up, for fear of offering an easy target for an arrow, but by crawling over the barricade they could get little force into any blow, and at the same time their shields were too clumsy to stop the thrusting blows of the stakes and gladii. Then, as those at the front became wounded, those behind had to help them back. Those pushing from the rear made it impossible to clear the wounded.
There were increasing screams of pain, swearing, and all the time
the Romans kept thrusting, wounding, with the same efficiency of a team chopping trees.
By now the Iazygians were climbing a writhing screaming bloody ramp of their own wounded. Gaius had been watching this development, and realized that soon they would be leaping down onto them. At that point, the position became indefensible. The only possibility was to buy some more time. Gaius signalled Timothy to light the cart. He then turned to the Centurion. "When the flames get up, get the men who will not have horses to run as fast as they can towards Lussonium. Timothy, two archers, and I shall stay behind and hold them off with arrows for as long as we can."
"Sir, with respect, you should leave, and . . ."
"There're four horses tied to that tree over there," Gaius remarked, "one of which is mine. There 's another couple over there for two others. We can ride, but those without horses need a start. Just do what I say."
The Centurion looked as if he was about to argue, then he had to turn and step into the line as one of the soldiers fell back, a spear through his throat.
The enemy were almost over as the flames began to reach up. Timothy had done a good job; within a minute the cart was a roaring inferno. Terrible screams of pain could be heard on the far side as the pressure from the rear was driving men into it. Men began to leap from the top, hair singed, faces burned. These were quickly killed. Then as the terrible smell of burning flesh drifted across, the Centurion nodded agreement, and four soldiers began to run towards Lussonium.
The two remaining archers took their positions with Gaius and Timothy on a small rise well back from the fire. For almost a quarter of an hour the fire was too intense for anyone to approach, then slowly it began to diminish. Then some men approached from the far side with a thin tree trunk, intending to try to push the burning cart away. Gaius fired one arrow, and although it missed, the men dropped the trunk and ran.
More men approached, this time with shields held together to protect those with the trunk. Gaius could see that there was little hope of delaying the opponents much longer, so he ordered no arrows to be fired. Slowly the burning cart began to move, then it disintegrated with a huge shower of sparks, flames, and extra heat.
"Inside ten minutes they'll start crossing," Gaius said calmly. "Once they're off the bridge, that's it. It's nearly time for the horses."
Eight minutes later the first man braved the fire to dash through, to be caught by an arrow. Then more men.
"Go!" Gaius roared. They let off their last arrows, and scrambled towards the horses. Gaius noticed one man seemed to be more important than the rest. He took quick aim, fired, then scrambled for the remaining horse.
When the horses reached the forest track Gaius ordered them to slow.
"They won't get horses through that fire for another few minutes," he said. "If we don't break horses's legs, we're safe."
They were safer than he expected. Ahead he could hear horses: a cavalry detachment from Lussonium. The raiders should have just about cleared the bridge for horse traffic by the time the cavalry arrived. The party slowed, and moved to one side of the track.
Chapter 5
Gaius had originally intended to arrive at Lussonium as inconspicuously as possible. That was no longer possible, and a crowd of civilian spectators and some soldiers greeted them. Eventually he found the military headquarters, and presented himself.
"You had a spot of bother?" the previous commander smiled.
"Yes, and I still have," Gaius admitted. "I am supposed to present myself to take up position as Legatus but my papers and most of my other belongings are on my cart that was used to bring back wounded, or maybe even thrown off the cart to make room, and I can't find the cart."
"I'll arrange for the Centurion who was with you to organize a party to go and retrieve any property. Tell me something about yourself? The names of your family, the name of the chief steward on your ranch, say."
Gaius obliged.
"This tent is yours!" the ex-Legate said. "I'm not sorry to be returning to Rome."
"I could be the wrong person," Gaius pointed out.
"You could," he replied, "but it appears you know how to command and fight."
"I presume this legion has the job of stopping those sort of raids?" Gaius remarked. "Have we any information on who did that?"
"My men . . ." He paused and corrected himself, "Your men, sorry, will have prisoners. We shall find out where they came from, but I can tell you now. The other side of the Danube."
"We need boats. Have we any?"
"You in some sort of a hurry?"
"Winter's coming," Gaius replied. "Once it is well established it will be difficult to mount an expedition, and I feel that once word of the circumstances of my arrival filters through, lack of action might encourage further raids."
"You don't want to be viewed as a weak commander?"
"No, I don't, and it is also desirable," Gaius acknowledged ruefully, "that the Princeps hears of missions accomplished rather than complaints about inactivity."
"But not missions failed."
"It may not be desirable to return from an abject failure," Gaius nodded, then with a grin, added, "so your comfortable future may be a little further off than you wish."
"My men won't fail so you'd better not. And remember, you'll have to clear it with Governor Plautius first," the ex-Legate warned.
"Any advice you can offer on that would be welcomed." Gaius began to realize that those on the other side of the Danube might not be his only problem.
"He's a very cautious man," the ex-Legate said, after a moment's pause, "not that I would want that spread about."
"Any advice stays between the two of us," Gaius assured him.
"It may be hard to persuade him to show aggression," the ex-Legate offered. "On the other hand, if you can get on the right side of him, he's very well connected. One of his ancestors' cousins was a friend of the delightful Livia, and said cousin was the mother of Plautia Urgulanilla . . ."
"Which gets you rather close to the Imperial family," Gaius nodded, as he suddenly realized the significance of the 'Plautia'.
"Exactly, and there's more. His wife, Pomponia Graecina, comes from a very illustrious family, which includes Vipsania Agrippina . . ."
"Tiberius' wife?" Gaius asked.
"The same."
"I see," Gaius said slowly. A cautious man who could break him, and a Princeps who wanted things to happen. Not exactly a good mix. "Nevertheless, at the very least I need to be able to advise Governor Plautius that at least I know how to carry out a raid. Have we got boats?"
"We'll have those that brought that lot over, and you can get more."
"I shall inform the Tribunes I'm planning a retaliatory attack and I'll want all logistics information at their fingertips. Then I'll have to work out a way to get to meet Governor Plautius."
"Then tune up your social graces," the ex-Legate smiled. "You've got a dinner invitation for tonight. One of the more influential Roman families."
"I look forward to it," Gaius said formally, if not entirely truthfully.
"I suspected as much," the ex-Legate said with a condescending smile. "Governor Plautius will be there, and I'm sure he will be interested to meet his new military firebrand!"
* * *
The cart was soon found, and Gaius was pleased to see that all his valuables were still present. With nothing much else to do for the afternoon, he set about enquiring about smiths: who was available, who was skilled, and where were they? There was a choice of two, so he selected the one he felt was most suitable and introduced himself and Timothy to him. A good number of sesterces had the man's interest, and he assured Gaius that he would be able to cast something out of bronze that would follow Gaius' diagrams.
* * *
Gaius nodded at the doorman, and stepped forward. Formal dress was not his strong suit. The toga was an item of clothing that could either look highly formal and convey great wisdom and dignity, or look like a long sheet of cloth that had been thrown over t
he body. Somehow, it always seemed to look like the latter on him. He also had to overcome the feeling that he should adjust it from time to time. Somehow, it never felt right. On the other hand, other men were not continually fiddling with their togas, probably because they had the knack of wearing them properly.
He had to forget about this wretched toga. There was the host, and accompanied by a very beautiful woman. The woman from the bridge. Young enough to be the host's daughter, and from the facial likeness, she probably was.
"Gaius Claudius Scaevola," he introduced himself.
"The Princeps mentioned you," the man nodded. "I am Publius Valerius Messala."
"You get on well with the Princeps?" Gaius asked politely.
The man stared at him, then laughed bitterly and said, "You survive with Little Boots, as I thought you might have gathered."
"I've heard rumours," Gaius replied stiffly.
"Well put, young Claudius," the man nodded. "Oh, my daughter, Valeria Vipsania. I gather you've met."
"I've met him," Vipsania responded calmly. "He ignored me."
Gaius stared at her, and gasped. She was incredibly beautiful, or at least he thought so. And then a sudden thought struck him. The prophecy! She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and he had really ignored her. That left . . . the ugliest one of all!
"He did have other things on his mind," her father said calmly. "There was a defence to organize."
"He did that with remarkable efficiency," Vipsania said, "and even made spare time. And guess what he would rather do in that spare time than talk to me?"
"I hate your guessing games," her father admitted.
"He'd rather drop stones off the bridge." She turned to Gaius and challenged, "That's true, isn't it."
"That'll look impressive on a report to Little Boots," Gaius said wistfully.
"On a par with collecting Neptune's treasures, instead of invading Britain," Vipsania challenged. "I presume there was a reason."
"To win a bet with you," Gaius responded impulsively.
"What makes you think I'd want to bet with you?" came the curious reply. At least, Gaius noticed, it was not derisive.
