and the enemy held stubbornly to the settlement area by the harbour. We withdrew slowly back to our positions and I ordered the troops to fall out, by sections, to rest and to eat.
When night fell an hour later there must have been thirty thousand men contained in the snow between the area of my four forts. The Vandals set up a rough shield wall to protect themselves and made shelters out of slats of timber and spare cloaks. There were waggons on the ice now, and camp fires sprang up everywhere; on the islands where, so I believe, their chiefs camped, upon the ground by the river, and upon the ice itself. As the moon rose I held a conference in my leather tent.
“If we can hold them between these forts we shall win. All their food supplies are on the east bank and they will die of cold with no proper encampment.”
“Can we trust the auxiliaries, sir? There are only two thousand of them.” Marius sounded worried.
I said, “Fabianus is holding Moguntiacum with five hundred. Still—we can stiffen them with a couple of centuries if you like. Get Gallus out of the old fort to take over command. That will steady them. See to it, Aquila. Get them moved down while it is still dark. Now, what news from the other forts?”
A cohort commander said tiredly, “All is well, sir. The attacks all failed in the end. Even the Alemanni fell back across the river at Borbetomagus.”
A signaller came in. “There’s a man outside, sir, who says he has come from the east bank.”
“Send him in. What other news is there?”
Aquila said, “Scudilio at Bingium led a counter-attack across the river and has fortified the bridge-head. Barbatio is still in command of the bridge but has lost half his men and is short of missiles. Marius has sent half his men to give support to the auxiliaries in the town and has cleared the ground outside the north wall. I think—”
At that moment a man came in. I recognised him as one of Goar’s bodyguard. He grinned and said cheerfully, “It is good fighting.”
“Yes,” I said. “Very good. Why didn’t you stop the attacks on Bingium and Confluentes?”
“The Franks attacked us. That is why we were late in helping you. But they have lost much food from their waggons and dare not send any more men across the river for fear of us.”
“Is Goar well?”
“He is fine. I am to say that he sent the king, Guntiarus, a special present.”
“What?”
“The head of his son.” He grinned again. “Now he will know for certain that the boy is dead.” His teeth flashed in a smile. “He should be happy at being proved such a fine prophet.”
Quintus frowned, and one of the officers, who was married, put his hands to his eyes.
I said, “His treachery was well rewarded then.”
Quintus said, “Who lit the fires on the first morning?”
The man hesitated. “We did,” he said. “It was as you wished.”
Quintus stared at him. “There was fighting then on the east bank while it was still dark. Was it your people?”
The man said sullenly, “I know nothing about that. Perhaps the Vandals quarrelled amongst themselves.”
“Perhaps.”
A decurion entered, shaking the snow from his helmet. “The patrol you sent out, sir, made contact with the auxiliaries. They report that all is well in camp, but there is a lot of movement on the east bank.”
I looked at the map. “If they are moving down-stream it means they must intend to cross at the big island just above Bingium. From there they can move on Bingium itself or cut the road behind us.”
Quintus said, “We could move those auxiliaries up to block the crossing.”
“No. I need them all to hold that camp.” I turned to the Alan. “There is work for your people in this thing.”
Quintus said, “But, surely—”
“Wait a moment. Where are Goar’s men now? Are there any blocking the track down the east bank?”
The Alan nodded. “Surely. He has men everywhere.”
“Not quite,” said Quintus drily.
“Then how are the enemy getting along it?” I asked.
The man seemed put out. He said, “I do not know. Perhaps they have broken through.”
“Perhaps. Aquila, order up one cohort, with waggons to form a laagar, and send them down to the point opposite the lower island, to cover a possible crossing there. And get two centuries to these points along the Bingium road, here and here, to back them. They must move out in fifteen minutes.”
Aquila said, “The men are tired out, sir.”
“It is better to be tired than dead. Quintus, get some mounted infantry across the river to link up with Goar and hold the track between the river and the hills.”
“How many?”
“Two hundred should be enough. If they get into trouble they are to re-cross and join us. I don’t want them wiped out for no purpose at all.”
“I’ll send Didius. He has a good head.”
I looked at the map again, and fingered the east bank route up which I had led the legion only two months previously. “Goar should have held that road.” To his bodyguard, I said, “Tell your prince that this is where I want his men, not up in the hills.”
A trumpet blew the alarm and an optio thrust his head round the tent flap. “They are moving up the slope again, sir.”
“In strength?”
He said, in a scared voice, “It looks as though the whole lot are coming.”
“Why can’t they be civilised,” grumbled Quintus. “All decent soldiers fight in daylight.”
I watched the men forming up in their battle ranks, and a signaller from the camp behind ran up, breathing hard. “They are moving on the auxiliary fort as well, sir.”
Night fighting was always their speciality and this was proved through the long hours that followed. They attacked Moguntiacum too, and all night long we could see the fireballs from the ballistae, arching outwards into the snow so that the camp below seemed to be a gigantic fire that spluttered furiously and would not be put out. When the fourth attack had failed, I mounted my horse and cantered along the road to the old camp from which Marius was just about to launch a counter-attack. Here, an attempt was being made to encircle the town; but the snow lay thick on the slopes, and there were many drifts, and it provided a natural barrier that we could not have improved upon. The majority of his garrison was now inside the town and only a handful of men were left to protect the camp and the aqueduct. After a quick consultation with Marius’ second-in-command, who told me that the tribune had the situation well in hand, I returned to my command. The fighting continued until well past dawn, and when daylight came the ditches were choked with the Vandal dead, so that I began to wish that I had dug them deeper. The men stood down; the wounded were taken to the rear, and the cooks prepared food over the spluttering fires. Fresh bundles of javelins were fetched from the waggons and the armourers were busy, sharpening swords and spears and repairing damaged armour. I went to my tent and lay down on a blanket, wrapped in my cloak.
An hour later they attacked again.
Late the next afternoon a messenger came from Goar. He had crawled across the ice, playing dead, from one pile of bodies to the next. He told me the Alans had suffered fearful losses but had temporarily checked the advance of the column on the east bank. They were grateful for the help I had sent them.
Quintus said wearily, “We are holding them, but that is all. They are too many for us. We cannot beat them without fresh troops.”
I said, “I agree. If they had let us rest last night I would have attacked at dawn, and I think we could have pushed them back across the ice. But our men can only fight for so long without rest; they can keep the pressure up by sending in fresh men all the time.”
He said, “Why not re-site the ballistae so as to enfilade them?”
I blew on my cold hands. “Yes, they don’t like being caught on the flanks; I noticed that. We’ll try it then and see if it works.”
That night I altered my dispositions, moved the main body of my men onto the flanks and left the centre only
