Hosker, G [Sword of Cartimandua 03] Invasion- Caledonia (3 page)

“Will the fleet be there?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have a few ideas.” Enigmatically he ended the conversation leaving Marcus to wonder what he had in mind. The idea of fighting on foot was an intriguing one but it would necessitate training, how Decius would love that!

As the column snaked its way down the foothills towards the coast Inir mustered his men. “The Romans have divided their forces. We outnumber them five to one.  We will attack.” His men were gathered in their warbands and they began to filter down the hillside using all the cover that was available.

Agricola and Marcus were met by an eager Julius.  “You can see sir, there is Mona.” He pointed across the short stretch of water to the island lurking in the afternoon mist.  Although the day was bright and warm the island had attracted a veil of fog which shrouded the shoreline and all that they could see was a low rise of hills emerging from the mist. The troopers looked with trepidation at the sinister sacred isle of Mona. As soon as the weary foots soldiers slogged up they were instructed to begin to erect their camp.

Marcus ordered Quintus and Levius to throw out a picket line to the north. “Gaelwyn!” The grumpy Brigante scout reluctantly arrived at Marcus’ side knowing that, unlike the others he would still have work to do.”

“Yes sir.”

“Head down the coast and see if we have any surprises.” The wiry warrior trotted his horse along the beach and Marcus noted with some admiration how he used every morsel of cover he could find.

Inir’s men were less than half a mile from the picket line when they were halted by Inir. He signalled for them to squat down.  The sun was lowering in the sky and the mountains behind them cast a shadow. Although a young leader Inir was a wise one and he wanted every advantage he could have. Unlike the tribes to the north the Ordovices used dull colours which camouflaged them well against the rocks and sparse vegetation. Inir gestured for the men on the extreme right and left to outflank the picket line which was struggling to keep formation on the rocky hillside. The troopers could smell the food which was being prepared and, whilst they were pleased they did not have to erect the camp, they also resented the fact that they would eat later than their comrades. It was slowly falling to night and they would have a two mile ride to reach the camp. Quintus and Levius were also a little unhappy. Levius had only just been promoted and had taken over the turma of Modius. They were already a truculent troop and Levius had found it hard to garner any trust. Quintus’ troop was much more experienced but they too were eager to return to camp.

The first they knew of the presence of an enemy was when a flurry of arrows descended from the dark. Levius just did not react as his men were plucked from their saddles; Quintus’ experience stood him in good stead and he yelled at the nearest trooper,” Get to the camp, tell them we are under attack. Troopers form ranks!” Levius’ men obeyed the commanding voice as a war axe flew threw the air and hit the unfortunate decurion in the chest. It was a chaotic scene as thousands of tribesmen poured down from the hillsides intent on slaughtering as many Romans as possible. Quintus saw the impossibility of their situation. They could not manoeuvre, they were well outnumbered and the enemy had the dark and surprise on their side. He had no other recourse than to shout, “Retreat!”

As they made their way down the hazardous slope the arrows and missiles continued to thin their ranks. The tribesmen were moving as fast as the cavalry and Quintus could see that the retreat had merely delayed the inevitable. They would die. He determined to die as a warrior and he kept turning his horse to face the enemy behind, slashing down with his spatha and killing many tribesmen. As soon as he had despatched one he continued down the hill. The rest of his turma, those that lived, attempted to do the same. Those in Levius’ turma just fled making them easy targets for the spears, stones and arrows hurled at them. Quintus’ men’s retreat made their pursuers wary. He wondered whether to make a stand and was debating whether or to order his men to turn when he heard the welcome call of the buccina. The Decurion Princeps was on his way to help. Almost as the last note faded away, a solid line of cavalry appeared. Those in the centre had bows and they launched a volley at Quintus’ pursuers. The unprotected tribesmen fell like leaves and the last few troopers were able to disengage and find shelter behind their comrades.

Marcus had no time for pleasantries. “One more volley and then fall back.” As Quintus, bleeding heavily from his arm and legs, emerged through the cavalry he saw a solid hedgehog of auxilia and legionaries.

When the cavalry filtered through Cominius Sura dropped his arm and a hail of arrows stopped the attack in its tracks. The tribesmen were spread out and the arrows did not kill as many men as the Batavian would have liked but it was enough for Inir who signalled a retreat and his men disappeared into the murk.  He had done what he had intended.  He had defeated the vaunted Romans and killed many of their men. As his warriors climbed back up the hill Inir could see over seventy slain Romans. Tomorrow they would attack again and this time they would slaughter the rest.

“Thank you sir.”

“Don’t talk Quintus.  The surgeon is on his way.”

“They surprised us sir.  How many ….?”

“How many survived?”  Quintus nodded. “There are seven of you.”

“I am sorry sir.”

“Don’t be a fool.  There were thousands of them. Even the general knows our horses are useless in this country. Rest now and we’ll talk in the morning.”

As Quintus was led away the general arrived. “So Decurion Princeps we have our war eh?”

“Bit of a disaster sir.”

“How many men did you lose?”

“Seventy one so far and a couple of the survivors don’t look as though they will last the night.”

“I don’t think they will attack again tonight but I will keep the Batavians out there until the camps are built.”

Marcus watched as the general rode off. He was amazed by how calm he was. Perhaps the high casualties were acceptable but this was the biggest single loss that Marcus had experienced and he was angry. Decius came up along with Gaius. “A whole turma gone eh? That hasn’t happened, well not since Drusus.”

“It is my fault Decius.  I should have trained the decurions better. Levius was too inexperienced and his turma was not the best one we had, Modius saw to that.”

“We haven’t had enough time to train them sir. We didn’t have the time.”

“We will have to train on the job; Gaius get Macro will you? And Agrippa.”

Gaius trotted off and Decius looked curiously at Marcus. “What is going on in that head of yours?”

“Something that the general said to me.  About adapting to our enemies and our terrain and I think these two might be able to help.” Agrippa and Macro arrived together both wondering why and macro wondering what he had done wrong. “You have heard about the loss of our men?” They both nodded. The general almost anticipated this. It looks like we will have to change our style of fighting.  We need to fight on foot.” The look of shock on Decius’ face could have been comical were the situation not so serious. “As Quintus and Levius discovered the horses get in the way. Cavalry work best in open country; the prefect, for all his faults, knew that. This is not open country. When we go into battle tomorrow we will fight on foot. I want the two of you to get around the men tonight and show them how to do it.” He held up his hand to silence the protests forming. “When we had the tournament I saw that they could fight with a sword. You two are the best weapon trainers I have ever seen.  You can do it. We will fight in the same formation as on horse, javelins at the front with a row of the best archers behind. Oh and tell the decurions, they fight on foot as well.”

The two men walked away bemused and a little apprehensive. Decius was almost boiling over. “Us fight on foot? But it’s never been done!”

Just then Cominius, who had been nearby walked over. “Actually Decius it has.  We have some units which are mixed cavalry and infantry.  It works quite well although they are trained specifically for that task. I have seen your men fight. They have the skills in arms. In fact it might be easier. They won’t have to control a horse.”

“Yes sir but some of them will struggle to walk and wield a sword!” He walked off shaking his head as Marcus and the prefect laughed.

“He will do it. He might complain but he wants this ala to be the best one ever. My only worry is that we fight tomorrow and looking at the numbers we will be well outnumbered.”

“I am not worried Marcus.  Our general is a calm man and a thinker.  We will beat them, of that I am sure.  I am just not certain if that will be tomorrow or another day.”

Just then Gaelwyn arrived in the camp. He looked around at the wounded being tended and sniffed. “I see you missed my nose again.”

Slightly irritated by the insensitive comment Marcus snapped.  “Well what did you find?”

Ignoring the rebuke the Brigante warrior idly picked his nose and, examining the result said, “There are a few thousand tribesmen waiting all along the beaches of Mona. And before you ask there was no sign of the fleet. I found a stream a mile up the coast with a path going into the hills.” When Marcus looked him expectantly he carried on, “I only mention it because when I went up it I found the Ordovice camp.”Their faces showed their surprise.

“Well thank you Gaelwyn, now go and have your food.”

Turning to leave he added more seriously. “And there are thousands of them, a legion and half in your numbers.”

“I think we had better find the general.”

Chapter 3

The general was up well before dawn. The cold night had left more mist around the beach and the camp. As Marcus and the two prefects made their way to Agricola’s tent he wondered about the magic of the island. The mist did not seem natural for it also hung around the tops of the hills and mountains as though the gods were protecting this sacred and holy land.

“Thank you gentlemen. Thanks to Marcus’ scout, a most interesting man by the way Decurion, we know where the enemy camp is.  I propose to attack at first light.”

Cassius Bassus looked incredulous, “But they outnumber us by at least five to one and we will be attacking up hill!”

“Do you doubt your men prefect?”

“Well no sir but uphill and outnumbered!”

“You forget our advantages. Arms, training and discipline with those we will win. Our plan of battle is quite simple. The legionaries will be in three lines in the centre, The Batavians on the right and your men Cassius Bassus on the left.  We have no artillery but I will require one cohort of your men Prefect Bassus to guard the wounded and the supplies. Decurion Princeps Maximunius will take his men on foot,” the gasp from Bassus was so loud they all looked at him, “will take his men on foot.” He repeated, “That is right prefect on foot. Have you a problem with that Decurion?”

“No sir the men are all prepared.”

“Good.  Your scout can take you behind their camp and when they engage my front line fall upon their rear.  Should be simple. Any questions?”

Any questions they might have had died on their lips. As they left Bassus turned to Marcus.  “I’ll say this for him, he has balls of iron that one. Your lads manage the fighting on foot?”

“It is not as if we have to make a frontal attack, ours is the easy part.”

“Only if we win, if we don’t then this could be the end of the Pannonian cavalry.”

Inir and his men were in position as the sun lit up the island of Mona gleaming like a jewel glinting in the west. The Ordovices took this to be a sign that the gods smiled upon them and they eagerly took up heir battle line. The Ordovice warrior was small and squat and whilst in many places this could be a disadvantage here on a steep slope it was an advantage. They could run quickly down the hill and be less likely to fall over. The speed down the hill would increase their momentum and Inir was certain that a pathetic three deep line could not stand against them.

As his men marched down the hill he was shocked to find the Romans advancing towards him.  He had expected them to wait until he attacked but they were going to win the battle for him. If they were moving then it would be harder for them to stand their ground. With a roar his men crashed down the hill like rocks from an angry Wyddfa. If he thought this would intimidate his enemies and make them flee he was wrong. They continued their steady and remorseless march towards the screaming barbarians. He could see the centurions in their distinctive helmets and the standard bearers looking along the lines to make sure they were straight and he wondered at this war machine he was about to take on. They appeared to be calm as though on a parade not being charged by the Ordovice. He had not time for further thoughts as they approached within forty paces. Suddenly, and without a command being spoken the whole line hurled their javelins, spearing warriors and throwing them back into their comrades following on. The front line disintegrated as warriors fell and others, coming on behind tripped and fell over the dead and dying or trampled them where they lay. Still the Romans did not falter. The front lines passed their javelins to the men behind, locked their shields and went to work with their gladii.

Inir found that he was unable to land a blow which did any damage. He was the tallest man in the Ordovice line and able to smash his sword down on the legionaries in front of him but there always seemed to be a shield in the way. Next to him he felt men fall as the deadly blades slid under, through and over the shields to find the vital organs of the unarmoured men. The javelins continued to be hurled by those in the second and third ranks whilst the archers amongst the auxiliaries sent flight after flight into the rear ranks. The centurions were calmness itself, killing efficiently and warning those legionaries who were in danger of dropping their guard to ‘
pick up that bloody shield
’. Seeing the general himself in the front line Inir determined to end this in the way of the tribes by killing their leader in single combat. Once their leader was dead his men would surely flee. He and his bodyguard left the front rank and made their way through the sea of enraged warriors until they was facing Agricola. One of the legionaries to the left of the general stumbled and Inir took the opportunity of smashing his sword down on the shield of the Roman leader. In all his previous combats such a blow would have ended the contest for he would have broken the shield. Agricola merely turned the shield slightly so that the blade slid harmlessly down. So surprised was Inir that he failed to counter with his own shield and the general’s blade sliced through his unprotected side. Although not a fatal blow it was a disabling blow and Inir’s bodyguards closed around him to protect him.