Tetricus’ short, curly hair appeared from the shadow beneath a wagon, a face that was paler than it should be beneath the mass of dark curls, looking up at him with obvious relief. Fronto felt a weight fall away from his shoulders as he stepped forward.
“If I have to tell Caesar that I found you hiding under a cart, he’ll send you home, you know that?” he said with a grin. Next to him, Atenos was frowning and, as Fronto noticed, he squinted into the shadows to see what had caused the centurion such concern.
Tetricus was hauling himself along the ground out from the shadow of the wagon with the pale, taut face of someone in great pain. Again, Fronto felt his heart lurch as he stepped forward urgently. Atenos joined him and they reached out to help Tetricus from his hiding place.
As the large centurion helped the man up, Fronto saw the wash of blood that poured down the tribune’s leg from a vicious thigh wound, the hilt of a bloody knife still protruding from it; saw the limp left arm and the jagged, blood-coated shaft that stuck out of the rear shoulder of Tetricus’ cuirass.
“For the love of Venus, they did a number on you.”
Atenos, next to him, shook his head. “Look again, sir.”
Fronto blinked and looked at Tetricus again, wondering what it was he was supposed to be seeing. The man was pale, having lost a great deal of blood, but he would live. The chances were good that both arm and leg would make it through, so long as the medicus did a good job. After all, the armour had prevented…
Fronto’s brow furrowed as he leaned closer. What he’d taken for a barbarian spear head beneath the thick coating of blood and mud was nothing of the sort. The bent and broken shaft that projected from Tetricus’ shoulder was all that remained of a Roman pilum, the shaft broken off. Already knowing what he was going to see, his eyes dropped to the leg wound. Again, beneath the mud and blood, the shape of a Roman pugio dagger hilt was unmistakable when he looked closer.
“Who?”
Tetricus winced as he tried to put weight on his leg, but Atenos reached out and took a firm hold of the tribune.
“I don’t know. Someone stabbed me in the thigh while I was still on the horse and pulled me off. We were in a thick mass of fighting, and I couldn’t see who it was — there were legionaries and officers all round me. My horse ran forward and I staggered to my feet to go catch her when something hit me in the back and knocked me flat. I must have passed out for a minute or two, ‘cause when I came to the fighting had moved on. I hauled myself under the nearest cart and waited.”
Fronto spun round, as though expecting to be able to find the would-be killer in plain sight, but only the occasional straggler from the Eleventh and Twelfth legions moved through the camp here, crouching to dispatch wounded barbarians and to deliver an occasional mercy strike to a fellow legionary who was beyond help.
“When I find the bastard responsible for this, I’m going to tear his face off with my teeth” Fronto snarled, as he reached out to take the other side of Tetricus. “Come on. Let’s get you to a capsarius.”
The three men, Fronto and Atenos all but carrying the wounded tribune between them, crossed the low embankment and moved slowly up the slope toward the Roman command section on the low rise. Caesar and his lieutenants sat on their horses in a small knot, gesturing at the camp below, deep in discussion. The artillery and the support wagons were still arriving slowly on the scene, and being corralled into groups. The medici and their staff were assembling three large tents to serve as temporary hospitals, while a number of orderlies stacked stretchers ready to run down to the camp and collect any wounded they could find.
By the time the three men were almost half way, the medical section had spotted them and two legionaries were running down with a stretcher. As they arrived and gently took control of Tetricus, lowering him to the ground ready to carry him back, Fronto caught one of them by the shoulder.
“Make sure he’s tended first and best.”
The orderly looked for a moment as though he might counter with a sarcastic remark, but caught sight of Fronto’s face and wisely bit it back, nodding instead. Fronto and Atenos waited for a moment, watching the two men rushing Tetricus toward the only finished tent, and then became aware of someone waving at them from the command section.
Changing direction, they jogged up the gentle slope to the officers, where Labienus walked his horse forward a few steps to meet them. Fronto saw the strain in the man’s face and the risen colour that spoke eloquently of the arguments the man had been very recently involved in.
“Fronto? You’ve been in the midst of it. Tell me what’s happening.”
The legate shrugged. “As expected. We caught them completely unawares. They’ve fought a desperate defence across the camp, but it was hardly even an obstacle.”
“Do you think they’d surrender, given the opportunity?”
“I don’t think they’re organised and calm enough to surrender. I doubt they’d even listen to you. My guess is they’ll flee the camp and try and get away. They certainly can’t hold it.”
Labienus sagged, but Caesar, who’d been close by and listening, stepped his own horse forward to join them.
“It looks like they’re trying to float their rafts out into the river. If they can get across to the far bank, they’ll be safe.”
Sabinus, nearby, nodded. “There’s a mass of them at the far side now too. You can just see them. They’re running towards the Rhenus. We’ve broken them completely.”
Fronto glanced across at Caesar, whose expression suggested that the fight was far from over yet. He gestured to one of the mounted messengers who waited nearby. “Get to the cavalry commanders. Tell them to leave the wagons and form up their men. Varus is still in recovery, so speak to his second. I want his wing to skirt the camp as fast as they can and cut off any survivors fleeing to the Rhenus. Galronus needs to take his men to the right of the field, along the river bank and deal with those men trying to get the rafts into the water. This fight ends here.”
Labienus turned to Caesar, a frown of concern creasing his face. “And once they’re surrounded and with no escape, general?”
Caesar turned a flat expression on his senior officer.
“They aren’t just warriors, Caesar. This is three whole tribes who came across the Rhenus. There are women and children, old folk and babies. We need at least to try and behave like civilised soldiers.”
A flash of anger passed across Caesar’s face at the scarcely concealed accusation of barbarism.
“Very well, Titus. If you want to save their old folk, go and try. Obtain their surrender.”
“But Caesar? You need to call off the pursuit first.”
The general’s cold eyes regarded Labienus with steely dispassion.
“I will do no such thing. I have to consider the likelihood that you will not even get their attention. I will not give them time to regroup and face me properly.”
Labienus glared at Caesar for a moment and then turned and rode off down the hill, kicking his horse into speed as he raced toward what had now become a scene of slaughter and mayhem. Fronto turned to Atenos.
“We’d best get back to the Tenth and try and rein them in a bit” he said quietly, glancing at Caesar and hoping his words had been quiet enough to go unheard. But the general was paying him no attention, his gaze instead was locked on the two wings of cavalry that were now marshalling on the low rise and beginning to move down to their assigned tasks.
The camp resembled a mass grave as the two officers picked their way through it. All the wounded barbarians had been dispatched by the second and third waves of assaulting legionaries, and most of the Roman casualties had now been moved off by the capsarii and the medical orderlies, stretchered back up to the three great surgical tents being raised on the hill.
Fronto and Atenos picked their way through the field of bodies, wondering where the Tenth would be now. The sounds of distant fighting still echoed from the far end of the camp, and the two men made toward the sound as swiftly as they could.
The bodies that littered the ground were so numerous that it was impossible to not pay a certain amount of attention as they hurried through and Fronto noted with some distaste as he moved just how many of them appeared to be the women and children of whom Labienus had spoken. It seemed that not only had the attacking
