in the fields, while the vines about Treverorum were thick with grapes. The soldiers fished in the river at dawn and dusk, and some of them returned to the old habit of dicing their pay away in the baths while they soaked the sweat and dirt from their tired bodies.
Each day I walked to the river and looked to the east. The barbarians’ camp stretched for two and a half miles along the bank and extended further back than the eye could see. Each day a blue haze covered the plain; it was the smoke from the camp fires of six tribes. At dusk the Vandals used to come down to the water’s edge to bathe, to wash their clothes and to dye their hair. One evening a small child fell into the water, the mother screamed and two of their men tried to reach it with poles, but it was swept out into mid-stream by a cross current. It was obvious that none of the men on the bank could swim. One, however, more quick witted than the rest, hurled a wooden shield onto the water. This, the child managed to clutch and hang onto. The current took the child across the river, and one of our men on the south island, dived into the water on the end of a rope and caught the brat. His comrades pulled him ashore and a boat was sent across to restore the child to its mother. The optio, who took the boat over, said to me afterwards. “They wouldn’t let us land. They didn’t even thank us. Just lined the bank and stared. I was glad to pull away into deep water again, I can tell you.”
“What did you expect?” I said. “They are the enemy. If it had been a Roman child they would have let him drown.”
In the second week of that hot month we had two days of storm and lightning and torrential rain, and, while the storm was at its worst, a boat slipped across the river to Bingium carrying a drenched messenger from the camp of Marcomir. A cavalry patrol brought him to me in the middle of the night, and I learned that the Vandals were collecting another fleet of ships up the Moenus and that they planned to make their attack on the night of the full moon. Marcomir’s information was always accurate so I sent word straight away to Gallus at Confluentes, and a week later two merchant ships were brought up river by night, towed by horses; a half century of my fittest men helping them. It was a long, slow haul, for the current was strong and the under-tow treacherous; and great care had to be taken to avoid noise, for I did not want the enemy to guess at my plans. Once past Moguntiacum the work became easier though the boat parties had a momentary alarm when fireballs were hurled over the water by the tribesmen guarding the east bank. Nothing came of it, however, and we concluded that a nervous sentry must have taken alarm at the movement of swans, for there were a great many on the river at that time. The merchant ships were weighed down at the stern with rocks and stones. Up forward, they were loaded with timber, wool and other inflammable material, and the decks sprayed with sulphur.
Two nights before the full moon these ships, manned by a skeleton crew, towed by small boats and escorted by a warship, were taken into the mouth of the Moenus. Four hundred yards up they were half sunk onto shoals either side of the central channel, and the crews taken off by the two boats. When daylight came it would look as if an ineffectual effort had been made to block the river. The success of our plan depended on the enemy thinking that, because we had apparently failed, there was little point in boarding and examining the two wrecks, whose upper decks cleared the water line easily. They did not do so or, if they did, made nothing of it. The following night their boats came through the narrow channel, and when all were clear of the sunken ships our fleet moved into the river mouth and attacked them. We fired the two wrecks first and with these blazing behind them the enemy boats were thrown into a panic. Those who tried to turn back found the narrowness of the passage between the burning boats intimidating; the swiftness of the current made navigation up-stream difficult; and they were forced on to the shoals and sandbanks, while the armed men on board scrambled wetly ashore. Those who tried to break out of the river were swiftly destroyed by our warships. Only a few boats slipped by to drift silently down the Rhenus, manned by crews of dead men transfixed by arrows, whilst the survivors moaned a little as they died of their burns.
Gallus was jubilant at his success and I gave a bonus to all who had taken part in the action.
Three nights before his wedding, Marcomir led a night raid on the barbarian camp, with my permission. While a diversionary attack was made on the area where the Aleman king was sleeping (there was always the chance that a valuable hostage might be picked up) Marcomir and fifty men penetrated the cattle park where the herds of oxen, rounded up from the surrounding countryside, were penned. Fire arrows created the stampede that he desired, and four thousand or so maddened, angry beasts broke through the fences and lumbered blindly through the camp. I had told him the famous story about Hannibal, and to a number of the beasts his men had managed to attach lighted torches. In the panic caused by the sound of the stampede the tribesmen, dazed with sleep, ran in all directions. Many were crushed to death, tents were brought down, shelters over-turned and fires started, which raged furiously in a score of places. In their first massed flight the cattle cut a clear swathe of ground, two hundred and fifty yards wide, through half a mile of tents. Thereafter, they broke up into small groups and did not stop until the torches on their horns had flickered out. When dawn came the camp was a shambles and cattle were everywhere. The damage was immense.
When I met him afterwards Marcomir was in a good humour. The raid had been a great success, he had suffered few casualties, and four women, including a daughter of Rando’s, had been captured, together with a number of weapons and a quantity of silver.
I said, “These successes are only pin-pricks on a host of that size. They are good for morale; they do a lot of damage, but they do not really affect the issue. What we need is a real victory.”
Marcomir grinned, his mouth full of pork. He wiped his greasy fingers on his tunic and said, “True, but the kings quarrelled before our raid over the letters you had sent, accusing Hermeric of treason. He denied it and slew Talien, King of the Quadi, while they sat at meat.”
I remembered that quiet, intelligent man. He was quiet for ever now. “A pity. Talien should have slain him. I had hoped for better than that.”
“It is a beginning. No, there will be no blood feud. Hermeric will pay for his crimes in cattle; the Quadi will feed and the Marcomanni will go hungry and grumble a little, but that is all. It is the custom of these people to settle their affairs so. And yet, it is a beginning.” Marcomir paused and then said quietly, “Respendial and Goar quarrelled too, each accusing the other.”
“Of what?”
“Of all that men do accuse each other when they fall out.”
“So?”
“Goar is sick of their stupidity and their greed. He has no faith that they will hold what they seek. Hermeric and Godigisel and Respendial talk incessantly of the lands in Hispania of which others have told them.”
“Will he come over to us?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“He has given his word.”
“With how many men and in return for what?”
“Land on the west bank when all this is over, and a post in the imperial service for himself. His father married a Roman girl and admired your people very much. It is young Goar’s ambition to be a Roman general—or so he says.” Marcomir chuckled.
I smiled. “That should not be difficult. What else?”
“Besides the women, the young and the old, he will bring ten thousand men who will fight on our side.”
“Ah.”
Quintus said, “Will they let him go?”
“They cannot stop him. He and his followers are on the north-east side of the camp, and if there is fighting they know that you will cross the river and attack them. They are all terrified of your ships. As well as cattle.” He chuckled again. “All this my spies have told me. Well, they will leave, pretending to return to their old lands; but, a day’s march from the camp, they will wheel round and make for my territory. All will be well.”
I looked from Marcomir to Quintus. “That will give us sixteen thousand men on the east bank,” I said slowly. He knew what I was thinking. He said, “How would we get the legion across? Even foot soldiers in boats would take time; horses would take longer. Without cavalry it would be too great a risk. We would need a bridge and there is no bridge.” He looked at me and said deliberately, “But we could build one, of course.”
“No.”
Marcomir looked at us in turn. I think he sensed that all was not well between us. He said impatiently, “What is your plan then, if you do not intend to cross or cannot cross? Wait for ever till they make the first move?”
I said, “Be patient. For how much longer can they feed themselves in that huge camp? They are nearly a hundred thousand against our thirty. Even with the advantage of surprise our two thousand horsemen would be
