‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then fix one to the harness of each animal.’
‘Sir?’ The optio looked surprised and then nodded obediently. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘See to it. Quick as you can.’
The optio hurried off to carry out his orders and Cato paused to take stock of the battle. He had lost a third of his men. No more than forty Thracians remained. The reinforcement column was faring better, thanks to the shield wall they were able to present to the enemy. They would take far fewer losses than the lightly armed Silurians, but that would not last. The price of heavy armour was the exhaustion that it inflicted on the soldiers. That was why the legionaries fought in relays in great set-piece battles. There would be no respite for them on the road back to Gobannium, Cato realised. A few hours from now, they would be worn out and become easy pickings for their nimble enemy.
As he waited for his orders to be carried out, Cato mentally retraced the route out of the valley. The track led through the pass and descended into another valley beyond. There the pass narrowed and was lined with a thick forest of pine trees. If they could reach that then a rearguard might hold the enemy off long enough for the rest of the column to get away. Or at least gain enough of a lead to reach Gobannium.
Over the heads of the men fighting he could see Caratacus and his escort, urging their warriors on. For a brief instant Cato sensed that the enemy commander was looking straight at him, still as resolutely determined to obliterate every last man of the garrison of Bruccium and every other Roman who stood in his path. Then Caratacus spurred his horse and moved to another section of his army and dismounted to wade into the fight.
Tribune Mancinus approached and stood at his side to watch the progress of the uneven struggle raging about them.
‘What do you want the draught animals for?’ Mancinus asked.
‘If you’ve read your Livy, then you should be able to guess.’
‘Livy?’ Mancinus shrugged. ‘Not on my syllabus, I regret to say, sir.’
‘Too bad. He has his uses.’ Cato saw that the animals and the Thracians were in position and the last of the three wagons had been turned about and was ready to move off. ‘We’re ready, Tribune. When I give the word the animals will cause something of a diversion. My cavalry will follow them up and try to open the way for the column. Get your men moving at once. Keep ’em closed up and their shields presented to the enemy. If you can save the wounded, do so. But if they fall out of line and can’t be rescued, leave them. Is that clear?’
‘Clear, but hard to stomach, sir.’
‘That’s too bad. We can’t afford to slow the column down for anything. Not if there’s going to be any chance of saving some of the men at least.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Good. Then let’s be about our business.’ Cato clicked his tongue and steered Hannibal past the abandoned wagons to the front of the tightly packed ranks of the Thracians. He saw the optio overseeing the tying of the last feed bags to the nervous mules and oxen herded together behind the line of auxiliaries holding the rear of the perimeter.
‘Optio, you have your tinderbox with you?’
The man patted the leather pouch hanging from a strap across his shoulder. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then get a flame going at once. Soon as you have, get your men to light some twists of straw and set the feed bags alight.’
The optio raised his eyebrows in surprise but nodded obediently and got to work. Cato made his way towards the centurion in command of the rearguard.
‘What’s your unit, Centurion?’
The officer, tough-looking and swarthy, saluted. ‘Fourth Hispanic Cohort, sir.’
‘And you?’
‘Centurion Fernandus, sir.’
‘When I give the word, I want your men to draw aside to let the animals pass. They’ll need to move quickly if they want to avoid being trampled.’
‘Yes, sir.’
All was set and Cato returned to his position at the head of the Thracians. In front of him the optio had lit a small fire, fed with handfuls of dry feed. As soon as the flames had taken he waved his men forward and they lit their tightly twisted lengths of straw and hurried to their places behind the animals, where they waited for the order. Cato settled himself in his saddle and took hold of his spear.
‘Light them up!’
At his command the legionaries thrust their makeshift torches into the feed nets and at once the dry, combustible material was set alight. Thin trails of smoke curled into the air and the flames spread rapidly. The heat and the glare alarmed the animals and they began to jostle against each other. Cato held off a moment longer, to ensure that they were agitated enough to rush forward when the opening was made for them. One of the oxen let out a loud bellow of fear and pain and stamped a foreleg.
‘Now, Fernandus!’
The auxiliary centurion snatched a breath and yelled, ‘Fourth Hispanic! Open ranks!’
The fighting line parted as the men in the centre section fell back and drew aside. They moved quickly enough to surprise the enemy who stood facing the gap, weapons raised and eyes staring. The ox bellowed again and the flames from the feed bag began to scorch its hide. With a snort it charged for the gap, trying to escape the burning hay on its rump. The other animals began to rush forward to get away from the same torment, straight at the closely packed ranks of the Silurians. There was no chance to get out of the path of the stampeding animals and the men were borne back by the impetus of the terrified brutes. With a scream the first of them fell under the hoofs and then more were trampled as the draught animals surged out of the Roman formation. Nothing could stand in the path of the panicked mules and oxen. Their bellows and braying filled the air as the flames, fanned by their frantic efforts to flee, flared behind them, adding to their terror.
Cato waited until the last of the animals had stampeded away and then advanced his spear. ‘Blood Crows! Stick it to ’em!’
Not the formal command, he knew, but one that would be unmistakable, and his men spurred their mounts and charged out of the square, through the gap. Cato and the squadron of the late Kastos charged to the left, Stellanus and the others to the right, bursting through the scattered and terrified Silures, thrusting their spears again and again, cutting down the routing enemy. As the last of the cavalry cleared the column, Tribune Mancinus gave the command to advance and the men behind the wall of shields steadily began to move back along the track leading over the pass towards Gobannium. The Silurians kept pace, wildly hacking at the shields and risking an occasional lunge at an exposed leg or gap that opened between the shields. For their part the Romans stabbed their swords at the enemy. There were still some who retained their javelins and used their greater reach to good effect, skewering any tribesmen who ventured too close to the line of shields. The men of the column left a trail of bodies, dead and dying, in their wake, mostly tribesmen but some Romans among them, who were butchered as they fell behind.
The animals had scattered, running blindly on in a futile effort to get away from the flames that scorched their backs, and it was then left to Cato and the Thracians to keep the line of march open. They charged to and fro across the track, breaking up any groups of enemy warriors attempting to make a stand in front of the box formation crawling through the pass. As Cato had hoped, the enemy fell on the abandoned wagons and ransacked them looking for valuables, armour and weapons. It was not until Caratacus rode down on his followers and drove them forwards again that the battle was renewed in earnest.
They had covered nearly a mile with little loss when they approached the slight rise before the valley narrowed. Cato was rallying his men for another rush at the enemy when Centurion Stellanus, who had ridden a short distance further ahead, suddenly reined in and stood staring down the far slope. He turned and beckoned frantically to Cato.
‘Sir! Over here!’
The enemy war bands had drawn back and were watching the Thracians warily, so in the brief lull before they came on again Cato spurred his horse ahead to join Stellanus. As he drew up beside the centurion the reason for the latter’s consternation was immediately apparent. The track was blocked by a hastily thrown up breastwork of rocks and felled trees. A line of roughly sharpened stakes angled out of the ground in front of the barricade and
