And worse than that. There were a number of parallel roads here, and Marselius's army was split into columns, divided into three main forces: Rick's on the left, Marselius himself in the center, and Publius on the right. With luck, Flaminius could hit one of the flanking columns and punish it before Marselius could come to its rescue. Or circle behind them and harass from the rear. Or- "It is clear that we must know what Flaminius is doing," Rick said. He turned to his officers. "Send out the Hussars. But in a body, to patrol and return. Not to fight. They're our eyes, and we'll need them,"
"I'll go myself," Drumold said. "Now?"
"Yes," Rick said. "Elliot, get the troops on alert, but keep them in camp. Until we know what Flaminius is doing it's silly to do anything-"
"And yet we have no choice but to continue," Lucius said quietly. "Or soon we will have no grain for the horses."
"Yeah," Rick said. He tasted sour bile. Horses eat a lot. Cavalry horses eat more than that. Stay here a week, and they'd have no striking force at all.
"Caesar demands that we march tomorrow," Lucius said. "I have brought his plan of battle."
The battle plan was no plan at all. March ahead and trust to God. Not that Rick knew of anything better.
"There is one more message," Lucius said. "I have waited until we are alone to give it."
Rick poured two goblets of wine. "Yes?"
"Your officer, Tethryn, shall have the Untipped Spear."
"Ah." So the Romans of Tran had preserved that ancient Imperial honor. "Dwyfyd will be pleased to add that to his brother's tomb carvings."
"Publius wanted instead to give money."
"He had a reason?"
"Ah. He said to his father, 'If I were as close to the purple as you, I would not waste Roman honors on dead barbarians." Lucius smiled. "Caesar replied, 'If I did not honor my friends, I would not be as close to the purple as I am."
"And what happens if Caesar falls in battle?" Lucius shrugged. "Publius is not evil, Lord. He is a strange lad. Well educated. Perhaps I was too strict. I do not know. But-well, we can pray to the saints that Marselius lives to be enthroned. I am unlikely to outlive him. And Publius may yet grow to a stature worthy of Rome."
The cavalry returned an hour past full light. "We found nothing," Drumold said. He pointed to the map spread on Rick's field desk. "So far as I can tell, we went to this spur of the ridge."
"A good ten stadia past where you should have been ambushed."
"Aye-"
"Meaning there will be an ambush there when the full army marches up that road," Rick said. "You can be sure of it."
"So what shall we do?" Balquhain demanded. "What would you do?" Rick asked. Balquhain spread his hands. "I know not, truly. Time was, and no so long ago, I would ride that road thinking myself safe. Now-now I see the danger, but. I know little what to do about it."
Nor I, Rick thought. I was about to say that- "My lord!" Jamiy burst in. "Lord, the Captain of the Guard sends word. New forces coming from the west."
"New forces?"
"Drantos soldiers, Lord. Royal Guardsmen."
"What the de'il?" Drumold demanded. "Why? Could aught be-no, no, I will not think such things."
Nor I, Rick thought. Lord God. And last night I betrayed her. Could this be Tylara coming? Or has something happened to her? Or-I'm a damned fool.
Camithon stood at the door. His head was bowed, and the old soldier actually stammered. "Lord-lord, I knew not how to prevent him. Aye, our young Wanax has grown-"
"And so you came with him."
"Aye," Camithon said. "What was my duty? I am a soldier. I know well enough that I am 'Protector' of young Ganton, not of the Realm, which I know not how to govern. And as our Wanax conceived this mad notion while the Lady Tylara was no more than a day's ride from the capital, I sent messengers to inform her that she should remain as Justiciar of Drantos, while I escort the Wanax. What else could I do, lord? For he would come. To prevent him I must lay violent hands upon him-and I cannot believe his nobility and Guardsmen would allow that. Must I then begin civil war?"
"No. Where is the king?"
"Ah-the servants are erecting his tent, and he is at his ablutions-in truth he hides until I bring him word of how you receive his visit. I think he fears you somewhat."
"He cannot overly fear me, or he would not be here. What forces have you brought?"
"A hundred lances, lord."
Three hundred heavy cavalrymen. Probably more; each lance was led by a knight, and many of them would have brought squires as well as men at arms.
Picked men, no doubt. Man for man as good as Romans. Possibly better. But not disciplined; a hundred Roman cataphracti would be more than a match for these three hundred.
But they were heavy cavalry, trained to fight in ranks three deep and cover a three-meter front. They could hold a third of a kilometer, at least for a while.
"And servants, and fifty porters leading a hundred pack animals," Camithon continued.
"Rations? How long can you live without forage?"
Camithon shrugged. "A day? There was little enough forage in the wake of this army!"
Rick nodded. Well, that was another four hundred mouths to feed. Plus horses, who'd need grain and hay. There'd be no centaurs among picked Drantos troops.
One more damn thing to worry about.
"This is primarily a Tamaerthan expedition," Rick said. "And it is my command. This is understood?"
"Aye, lord. By me and by His Highness."
"Good. Then have the courtesy to inform the Wanax that when His Majesty is finished with his ablutions, the Commander-in-Chief would like to see him."
16
Titus Licinius Frugi reined in his horse and resisted the impulse to stand in the stirrups. His officers were watching; they should not see him appear uneasy.
They were among a thin wood at the top of a long ridge that lay parallel to his enemy's line of march. They could see most of Marselius's force from here: the center, with Marselius himself, lay on Frugi's left, ready to march up the military road to Rome.
On that side Frugi had four legions to face Marselius. More than enough to sweep Marselius from the field-but that would be wasteful of men. Frontal assaults always were.
But if he could bring a legion around the ridge to take Marselius from behind- Marselius had entrusted his left wing to barbarians. To Frugi's right, at the bottom of the ridge, was a secondary road in a thin strip of cleared level ground perfect for his heavy cavalry. The barbarians, separated from Marselius by the ridge, would march into that.
He pointed to the road. "How far up it did they come?" he asked.
"There." One of his staff officers pointed down the slope.
"That far. Excellent." If the barbarians had scouted that distance last night, they would surely do so again now that they were marching…
First would come the barbarian light cavalry. They'd be no match for cataphracti; drive them back, back upon their own marching columns-and charge on, using the fleeing enemy as a screen.
And if the enemy came on without sending scouts ahead? Even better. The road ran between the forest and a stream. The barbarians would have to march close to the trees; close enough that their archers would have little time for their deadly volleys as his hidden troops burst out. Let his legionaries get among the archers, and the barbarian army was his. Kill the archers! The pikemen were not of themselves dangerous. Horse archers could shoot them down-provided that they were not in turn shot down by those bright-kilted fiends with their long, gullfeathered arrows that could outrange his best by half again.