nervous just thinking about it, particularly given that it was a plan of his own devising. Still, none of the experienced naval officers could come up with a better solution.
The ‘horns’ of the bull on the outer points of the crescents were formed of the quinqueremes, the heaviest warships in the fleet. Their initial task was to sweep in as pincers and to take the edge of the Veneti fleet, effectively sealing them in and, hopefully, given their size and weight, to sink a few with the rams. While this happened, the rest of the fleet would close, the rear lines spreading out to encircle the enemy.
Brutus found that he was uttering a silent prayer to Juno, the family’s patron deity. The Veneti fleet, almost twice as many vessels as his own, drifted along at a gentle speed as though they had not a care in the world and it was both frustrating and worrying. The Veneti were clearly a clever and resourceful people and to let Brutus’ fleet descend on them was extremely out of character. Was it a trap somehow? He couldn’t see how. They were too far from the headlands for the Veneti to have hidden surprises, while trying to stay close enough to land to avoid the worst of the seas, even in this soggy lull in the weather.
It was foolish and worrying.
During his last meeting with Caesar, which had not gone well, he’d managed to argue himself into a corner. When Fronto had passed on his orders to track the Veneti, he’d been to see the general to point out that that job could be done just as effectively by scouts on the cliffs without endangering the ships. Caesar had rounded on him angrily, asking what use the ships
The fleet closed on the Veneti and he swallowed nervously. If they could get the Veneti pinned they might stand a chance, the crews had spent the previous evening constructing platforms at the prow in order to raise the height of the ‘corvus’ boarding bridge and therefore overcome the difference in deck height. It looked uncomfortably precarious to Brutus, but no other solution had leapt to mind.
Glancing to left and right from his commanding position, he watched the horns of the bull closing on the Veneti and something caught his attention. The enemy fleet had thinned out at the periphery. In fact, as he scanned the Gaulish mass, the entire fleet had thinned. A huge proportion of the fleet of ships had begun to break away, altering their huge leather sails to fill with the billowing wind and picking up speed, heading for the coast.
Even as he watched, more and more clumps of vessels began to pick up speed and move away. It was like watching patches of ice breaking away in a fast stream, and the truly irritating thing was that, despite the Roman ships moving at attack speed, the Veneti vessels were fleeing the scene even faster.
He frowned.
Why, then, had they clearly left a few of their fleet at the mercy of the Romans. As more and more of the enemy broke away, it became obvious that they had left six… no… eight ships with their sails sagging, waiting to be overcome. What strange trap was this? Could the vessels be about to be fired? Disease ridden by design? Something was wrong.
He was about to begin shouting, giving the order to call off the attack, when he realised that there were still Veneti standing at the rails of the ships. Why would they leave their own men?
Brutus was without answer as the quinqueremes on the flanks closed on the two outer enemy vessels that remained, drifting alone as the rest of the fleet swept away from them.
Unable to find a convincing reason to halt the attack, he watched, mystified, as the engagement, such as it was, began. The quinquereme on the left flank; the
Brutus shook his head, realising what had happened before the scene fully unfolded. The trierarch of the Roman vessel had done nothing wrong, but the Veneti had allowed their ship to drift just slightly, putting it at a slight angle. The ram on the roman vessel slammed into the heavy oak hull but, rather than punching through and disabling the enemy, the ships came to a mutual halt with a resounding crash and men and goods were thrown around the decks. The ram had broken timbers, but had then glanced off and slid along the hull harmlessly, leaving the boarding bridge pointing out to open sea.
The enemy crew were laughing at them, Brutus realised, as the Gauls raised their sail and began to gather the wind to move away. Silently, he willed the captain of the Celerimus to pull the disaster around and, as he watched, the quinquereme changed angle and tried to face the enemy ship long enough to drop the corvus, which was already manned. There was, he realised, no chance of this happening successfully. The oarsmen had begun to row, trying to manoeuvre the heavy Roman vessel, but it just took too long to pick up speed in the circumstances, while the swift Veneti ship that had been their target began to open the distance between them, disappearing toward the land with a bulging sail and laughing crew.
Brutus felt the pain behind his eyes coming back and pinched the bridge of his nose again.
“Signal the fleet to break off.”
He opened his eyes again, already knowing what he was going to see and dreading it.
Sure enough, two other Roman vessels had closed on the enemy, one on the opposite flank and one close by in the centre of the formation. As they lunged forward, trying to ram and with the corvus swinging and ready to drop, the Veneti ships shifted their sails, caught the wind, and swiftly moved out of the way.
There was no trap. Quite simply, the Veneti had known from the start that they were safe from the Roman fleet, but were testing not only the tactics of their hated oppressors, but also their abilities. The answer was almost embarrassing. Without something new, nothing in the arsenal of Roman naval experience was going to be able to make a dent on the Veneti fleet. The Gauls were toying with them, batting them on the nose and then dancing out of reach.
He turned to catch the accusing glare of the trierarch.
“Yes, I know. Signal the fleet to follow them. When they put to shore, we need to find a useable harbour somewhere nearby and keep a squadron at a time out there, making sure the Veneti stay still. As soon as they’re ashore and we’ve got them under surveillance, I’m heading back to the general to report.”
The captain nodded quietly and Brutus ground his teeth. Caesar was unlikely to be sympathetic.
Brutus sighed as the general let his glare slip slowly away. Caesar had said nothing, but his expression had said more than the harshest words.
“Very well… We are in the same position as we were before we marched on Corsicum. The only advantages we have this time are that we know what their tactics are likely to be and the fleet is there and will be able to at least
“Weather allowing” Brutus added quietly, unwilling to raise his eyes to meet the general’s sharp glance.
“Solutions, gentlemen. We now know the situation of this next fortress. It is similar to the last, but with narrower coves opening to the sea on either side of the headland. Is there some way we can speed up the whole procedure and not be at the mercy of nature and her damn tides?”
Tetricus cleared his throat next to Fronto.
“We can stop the legions out of sight of the fortress, general; assemble as much of the artillery as possible so that it will require considerably less time to put them in position and find the range. If we then send scouts ahead as we start to move, they can locate a good place for an artillery platform and direct the engineers there. If we do it right, we can have the artillery pounding the enemy in a fraction of the normal time. The surprise could give us an edge and buy us time.”
The general nodded slowly and appreciatively.
“Surprise is clearly important. If they have too much time to plan, we could end up with a repeat of Corsicum, or worse. We shall keep the legions from moving into sight until we are ready. Let’s keep them guessing and off guard. What else?”
Balbus frowned.
“Tetricus? Can you split your fire when you’re set up and drop some of your shots into the centre of the fortress?”
“I can, but won’t it be a waste of shots we could be directing against the walls?”
Balbus smiled and scratched his bald head.
“If we’re trying to prevent them from having too much time and leisure to plan, the confusion created by being under random fire across the place could be useful.”
