All they could do was wait.
Dawn came, but banks of lowering cloud concealed the sun. The sole sign of life was the occasional small bird fluttering among the trees’ bare branches; the only sound the murmur of the river at their backs. Finally, Hanno’s grumbling belly made him wonder if they should order an issue of rations. Before he could query this with his brothers, the sound of galloping hooves attracted everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to the track leading west.
When two Numidians came thundering around the corner, there was a massed intake of breath.
‘They’re coming!’ one shouted as he drew nearer.
‘With five hundred of our comrades hot on their tails!’ whooped the other.
Hanno scarcely heard. ‘Close order!’ he screamed. ‘Ready spears!’
Chapter XXII: Face to Face
Quintus had hoped that his unease would dissipate as they left the Trebia behind them. Far from it. Each step that his horse took further into the empty landscape felt as final as if he had crossed the Styx to penetrate the depths of Hades itself. The eagerness he’d felt in his father’s tent, with a belly full of wine, had totally vanished. Quintus said nothing, but a glance to either side confirmed that he was not alone in his feelings. The other riders’ faces spoke volumes. Many were throwing filthy glances at Flaccus. Everyone knew that he was responsible for their misfortune.
At the front, Fabricius had no idea, or was choosing to ignore, what was going on. It was probably the latter, Quintus decided. These were some of the most experienced men in his command. Yet they were unhappy. Why had his father accepted the mission? Quintus cursed. The answer was startlingly simple. How would it look to Publius if Fabricius had refused a duty like this? Terrible. Quintus eyed Flaccus sourly. If the fool hadn’t put the idea in the consul’s head, they’d all still be safe on the Roman side of the river. Guilt soon replaced Quintus’ anger. By being so eager, he had probably helped push his father into accepting the suicide mission.
For, despite the fact that there was no sign of the enemy, that is what it felt like.
Quintus waited for only a short time before urging his horse forward to his father’s position. Flaccus was riding alongside. He gave Quintus a broad wink. It wasn’t entirely convincing.
He’s frightened too, thought Quintus. That made up his mind.
Fabricius was intent on scanning the landscape. His rigid back told its own story. Quintus swallowed. ‘Maybe this patrol was a bad idea, Father.’ He ignored Flaccus’ shocked reaction. ‘We’re visible for miles.’
Fabricius dragged his gaze around to Quintus. ‘I know. Why do you think I’m keeping such a keen eye out?’
‘But there’s no sign of anyone,’ protested Flaccus. ‘Not even a bird!’
‘For Jupiter’s sake, that doesn’t matter!’ Fabricius snapped. ‘All the Carthaginians need is one alert sentry. If there are any Numidians within five miles of here, they’ll be after us within a dozen heartbeats of any alarm.’
Flaccus flinched. ‘But we can’t go back empty-handed.’
‘Not without looking like fools, or cowards,’ Fabricius agreed sourly.
They rode in silence for a few moments.
‘There might be a way out,’ Flaccus muttered.
Quintus was ashamed to feel a flutter of hope.
Fabricius laughed harshly. ‘Not so keen now, are you?’
‘Are you doubting my courage?’ demanded Flaccus with an outraged look.
‘Not your courage,’ Fabricius growled. ‘Your good judgement. Haven’t you realised yet that Hannibal’s cavalry are lethal? If we so much as see any, we’re dead men.’
‘Surely it’s not that bad?’ protested Flaccus.
‘I should have refused this mission, regardless of how it looked to Publius. Let you lead it on your own. If anyone would follow you, that is.’
Flaccus subsided into a sulky silence.
His father’s outburst revealed the depths of his anger; Quintus was amazed.
Fabricius relented a fraction. ‘So what’s your bright idea? You might as well tell me.’
‘We will report that the enemy cavalry was present in such numbers that we were unable to proceed far from the Trebia,’ said Flaccus with bad grace. ‘It’s not cowardice to avoid annihilation. Who will gainsay us? Your men certainly won’t talk about it, and no one else will be foolish enough to cross the river.’
‘Your capacity for guile never ceases to amaze me,’ snarled Fabricius.
‘I…’ Flaccus spluttered.
‘But you’re right. It’s better to save the lives of thirty men in the way you suggest rather than throw them away through foolish pride. We will return at once.’ Fabricius reined in his mount, and turned to issue the order to halt.
Quintus sagged down on to his horse’s back. His relief lasted no more than a heartbeat. From some distance away came the unmistakable sound of galloping hooves.
The eyes of every man in the turma turned to the west.
A quarter of a mile distant, a tide of riders was emerging from behind a copse of trees.
‘Numidians!’ Fabricius screamed. ‘About turn! Ride for your lives!’
His soldiers needed no urging.
Trying not to panic, Quintus did the same thing. The ambush might have been sprung early, but it remained to be seen if they could make it back to the Trebia before the enemy horsemen reached them.
It soon became clear that they would never reach the river in time. The Numidians were physically smaller than the Romans, and their mounts were faster. They were operating to a plan too. While some continued riding in direct pursuit from the south, others angled their path outwards and to the west, effectively hemming the patrol against the Trebia. The Romans had to flee northwards. Naturally, they made for the ford. There was no other option. It was the only one for miles in either direction.
‘Get to the front,’ Fabricius shouted at Quintus and Flaccus. ‘Stay there. Stop for nothing.’
Flaccus obeyed without question, but Quintus held back. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m staying at the rear to prevent this becoming a complete rout,’ snapped Fabricius. ‘Now go!’ His steely gaze brooked no argument.
Fighting back tears, Quintus urged his horse into a full gallop. It soon drew ahead of the other cavalrymen. Never had he been more glad of his father’s insistence on taking the best mount available, or more ashamed that he could feel such relief. Quintus did not want to die like a rabbit chased down by a pack of dogs. With this dark thought fighting for supremacy, he leaned forward over his horse’s neck and concentrated on one thing. Surviving. With luck, some of them would make it.
They had covered nearly a mile before the first Numidians had closed to within missile range. Riding bareback, half-clothed, the lithe, dark-skinned warriors did not look that threatening. Their javelins’ accuracy proved otherwise. Every time Quintus looked around, another cavalryman had been struck, or fallen from his mount. Others had their horses injured, and were no longer able to keep up with their comrades. No one saw their swift, and inevitable fate, yet their strangled cries followed in the survivors’ wake, sending terror into their hearts. The Roman riders could not even respond. Their thrusting spears were not made to be thrown.
By the time Fabricius’ men had covered another mile, the Numidians were attacking from three sides. Javelins were scudding in constantly, and Quintus could count only ten riders apart from himself, his father and Flaccus. At the bend in the track that led around and down to the ford, that number had been reduced to six. Desperately, Quintus urged his mount to even greater efforts. He didn’t know why, but they seemed to have drawn slightly ahead of their pursuers. Perhaps they still had a chance? he wondered. With their horses’ hooves throwing up showers of stones, they pounded around the corner and on to the straight stretch that led to the Trebia, a mere two hundred paces away.