‘Sir?’
‘I’m coming, I’m coming.’
Throwing his cloak over his shoulders and fastening it with the bronze pin, Varus stepped out into the cold, white world of northern Gaul. A shiver wracked him from toe to head and back.
‘You alright sir?’
‘Never better. Just don’t shout.’
Trying to ignore the sly smile the legionary flicked him, Varus glowered and followed across the turf and down the camp’s Via Praetoria, which led to the gate facing the gathered Gallic army. His head began to take on that extra crushing pain that could only be the result of a hangover exacerbated by the chill wet mist and the sounds of two thousand legionaries already chopping and adzing timber, hammering posts into place and the myriad other agonising noises of the ongoing fortification of the hill.
Mere heartbeats later, he was climbing the earth mound beside the gate to where Caesar stood with the other staff officers and the watch centurion, as well as several dismounted scout riders. Reaching the top, Varus peered out into the mist following the direction of their gaze.
Eerily, the enemy camp was clearly visible, along with the sea of humanity within, though the combination of the cold and the swampy ground had resulted in a thick mist that became a whiter, denser fog towards the waterways below. The result was that the enemy’s hill fortress rose from a blanket of white like an island in a ghostly sea. The effect did little to lift Varus’ battered spirits.
The courier had said enemy reinforcements were arriving and that the general had summoned his officers to the gate. Little looked any different from here.
‘Reinforcements, general?’
Caesar turned a withering gaze on him. ‘Ah, commander.’ Amazing how the man could fit so much admonition into two such simple words. Varus flinched as the general breathed slowly. ‘A few moments ago the traitor Commius returned with his Germans.’
Varus’ spirits sank yet lower. ‘How many, general?’
‘Therein lies the good news. They appear to be Suebi, from what your scouts tell me, but at the highest estimate he brings only half a thousand with him. Not a great return on his efforts, but then I did not think the Germanic tribes would be enthusiastic about entering into another war with us.’
Brutus rubbed his eye. ‘Your scouts rode round the entire circuit at dawn today. The current estimate of enemy numbers is that they amount to perhaps forty five thousand. That includes the newly-arrived Germans, and must account for every fighting man from each tribe involved. This is the enemy army in its entirety, so if we can finish them here, then we’ll have done to the Belgae what Alesia did to the southern tribes. There won’t be enough able men left to raise a shout, let alone a rebellion.’
‘I’m not sure how you hope to achieve that, Caesar?’ Varus hazarded quietly.
‘Oh?’
‘We’re hardly in a position to attack them. Their position is too strong and they outnumber us by too high a margin to be confident of victory.’ Caesar nodded, listening carefully, so Varus scratched his head and went on. ‘Well, if we manage to lure them out now, we’re truly in the latrine. If we meet them straight in the field they outnumber us enough that we could easily lose, especially with the surrounding woods and swamps limiting the usefulness of the horse. And if we let them besiege us, yes we have a strong fortress now, but even if we forage like mad, it’s winter and we’ll be very unlikely to pull together enough food to see the army through more than a few days. No course of action looks favourable.’
‘Agreed,’ Caesar murmured quietly. ‘And that is why I sent out riders at haste last night.’
‘Sir?’
‘I have sent for Trebonius to bring the Tenth and the Twelfth, and to pick up Sextius and his Thirteenth on the way. They are the closest legions to our current position. The couriers took changes of horse with them, so I am confident that they will arrive at the camps by nightfall today. Trebonius has orders to march at all haste without a full supply train, in the same manner as we did. If everything works out as I anticipate, in four days we will almost double our force. With seven veteran legions, I could bring down an army of Titans.’
Varus nodded. Seven legions would, at least, be more than a match for the enemy.
‘We need to keep the enemy interested in the meantime, though. We must keep their attention riveted on us. We will attempt skirmishes wherever possible and keep them occupied until the reserves join us. I want the enemy too busy concentrating on our minutiae to notice the underlying plan. I anticipate the legions’ arrival, as I say, either in the evening four days from now, or the morning after.’
He turned to the small group of officers and singled out Mamurra.
‘Appius?’
‘General?’
‘Are you required for any further work on the camp?’
The engineer shook his head. ‘I think things are progressing well enough in the hands of the legion engineers now, sir. I might be consulted from time to time, but otherwise…’
‘Good.’ The general smiled. ‘I want you to turn your talents to a new project. I want you to plan a bridge across the swamps from this hill to that one. I want it to be sturdy and wide enough for a contubernium of men to march abreast. And most importantly I want it to be able to put in place in a matter of hours. Half a day at most.’
Mamurra blinked, peering down into the sea of swirling, ethereal white below. ‘That’s near impossible, general.’
‘That is why I entrust such a task to a man who has a reputation for achieving the impossible. I do not want it in place now. I want to put it up four days from now, finishing by nightfall. I want it in place a matter of hours before Trebonius arrives with the reserves, so that the enemy have no time to plan anything. I want them off-balance and concerned, and then to suddenly find that their fortress is vulnerable and that their enemy have doubled in numbers and are coming for them unexpectedly. Do you understand the strategy?’
Varus did. It was brilliant. It was also extremely risky.
‘General, what happens if Trebonius is delayed by days?’
‘Then the enemy will rally and probably destroy the bridge – they do have vastly superior numbers, after all. And then our entire strategy collapses. Similar issues occur if Trebonius is over-enthusiastic and runs his men into the ground to join us, getting here before the bridge is built. Then the enemy will have knowledge of our full force and time to plan. So we shall just have to rely on my estimates being accurate, shall we not?’
Mamurra sucked on his lower lip as his gaze moved up and down from the sea of white to the hill opposite. ‘It’s possible, sir. This mist seems to happen every morning as a consequence of the marshes. We could send teams down there the morning before, under cover of darkness. They could ram in the piles for the bridge in the mist, which would help deaden the sound. Then, when the time came, we would already have the supports. We would only have to build the superstructure. And if we have three days, as soon as this camp is finished we could start putting together the bridge in pieces within the camp. Then we can run out the bridge already partially constructed and assemble it swiftly when needed. And we could start with a causeway of timbers at our side of the marsh earlier. The bridge will only be required for the central, wider, section. It is entirely possible, sir.’
Caesar smiled. ‘I knew you would come up with something, Mamurra. Start working on your plans. Take any men you need from any legion and get to work.’
Varus peered at the enemy force. It was an audacious plan, and worked on narrow timings. But it would nullify both the enemy’s advantage in numbers and their fortified position.
‘I think I need a drink,’ he croaked, rubbing his thumping head and looking down into the white world of deadly swamps.