He turned to the scene before them again and peered off into the distance, his gaze raking the countryside.
‘Do you think they’re watching us right now?’
The scout nodded. ‘I’d wager news of your arrival is already making its way back to the enemy, sir.’
Varus smiled wickedly. ‘And what are the chances they know of the two legions following on perhaps ten miles behind us?’
‘Very good, I’d say, sir. Certainly they’ll know before they’re another five miles closer, even if they don’t now. And they will have taken note of two new senior officers coming in from the east wearing red cloaks and plumes. That can only mean a relief force. Any local would recognise that.’
‘What are you digging at, Varus?’ Fabius coughed.
Varus’ grin widened and he folded his arms, still addressing the scout. ‘And if they hear that two more legions are coming and that Rome’s forces will match or exceed theirs?’
‘They’ll run, sir. No doubt about that.’
‘Back to their own lands across the Liger.’
Fabius was shaking his head. ‘No, Varus. That’s no good. If they run before we can get here, they’ll just melt away into their own lands and we’ll not get to deal with them. If that happens we’ll never be able to leave here, else they’ll just come back and do it again. We need to deal with them now and prevent a repeat of this mess.’
Varus was chuckling now.
‘You leave that to me. I have an idea.’
* * * * *
Caninius stood on the gate of his camp’s ramparts and watched the enemy.
‘It never ceases to amaze me how they can hear things before us, given that they’re further away.’
Cophus, chief centurion of the Fifth, nodded his agreement as he peered at the scene before them. They had received news from the scouts of Fabius’ legions only a quarter of an hour ago, and already the enemy force was decamping on both sides of Limonum, moving off to the north at surprising pace.
‘Give the word, sir, and I’ll get the lads moving.’
The two men stood silent for a moment. The legions, even at a fast pace, would not match the fleeing Gauls in their lightweight gear, unencumbered and with their feet given wings of fear. But at least they would catch the rear-most of the enemy. They could harry them all the way back to the Liger and maybe even catch a reasonable number of them before they crossed the river and vanished.
‘Consider the word given, centurion. Have the Fifth strip down to the essentials and give chase at speed. Try to maintain unit cohesion, though. I’d hate to have the enemy suddenly turn and form up and our boys to be all over the place in chaos. Give chase in good order and kill or capture as many as you can.’
Cophus saluted and turned to give the orders to the signifer beside him. Caninius looked the other way along the wall top. The Fifteenth’s primus pilus was elsewhere, busy with his duties, but in case of sudden changes in plan their chief cornicen stood near the commander, his curved horn over his shoulder. He gestured to the musician.
‘Have the Fifteenth form up outside the south gate. Once the Fifth have moved off to harry the enemy, have the Fifteenth in full kit sweep around to the west. The enemy have two baggage trains – one for each force – and they will meet at the crossing three miles downstream. While the Fifth are killing the Andes, the task of the Fifteenth will be to seize the enemy’s baggage and supplies and bring them back here.’
The cornicen saluted and began to blare out the assembly calls for his legion.
Caninius peered at the enemy, swarming like a kicked-over ant hill, back to their hovels in the north. Most would escape, but at least he could capture the baggage and punish them a little as they ran. Shame the news of Fabius’ legions had come so quickly, otherwise they could have won a great battle here. Instead, the Eighth and Ninth would get here too late.
* * * * *
The tribune fussed along behind Caninius, urging him to return to the camp, repeatedly overusing words like ‘duty’, ‘command’, ‘safety’ and ‘caution’. Ignoring the man, he felt nothing but gratitude for the wind on his face after three weeks of languishing in camp and watching the enemy starve his ally in the oppidum. He was a good officer but he knew he was no swordsman, and the tribune who hurtled along behind him was correct, in truth, but it felt good to be taking the fight to the enemy anyway.
Night had fallen on the ride, and danger was everywhere, but Caninius felt secure, regardless. His bodyguard were with him as well as the two turmae of horse he’d had attached to his legions. Over seventy men, all told, and the enemy were far ahead.
The Fifteenth had returned to camp with the enemy baggage after an hour-long contest at the crossing, bringing perhaps two hundred captives with them. The Fifth had chased on after the enemy and disappeared to the north. The legion had been gone for an hour when it occurred to Caninius that he had set no limit on their chase, and in the excitement he had not taken into account how far the Liger was from Limonum. Forty miles, the tribune had estimated. As the afternoon wore on, he had considered sending a small courier detachment to halt the legion and have them return to base. But the fact was that he had to kill or capture as many as possible in order to try and prevent the Andes from being able to repeat their belligerent act as soon as Rome’s forces moved on, and so he had sent no word, allowing Cophus to pursue the enemy as per instructions, all the way to the Liger.
He hoped he hadn’t been foolish. All it would take would be for the enemy to realise that they outnumbered the Fifth by such a margin and to pull out of their panicked flight and form up, and half of Caninius’ command might be wiped out. His career would never recover from that.
As the sun had begun to descend towards the horizon, he’d finally broken, unable to take another hour twitching at the rampart as he stared into the unchanging north. Giving the Fifteenth orders to leave a cohort with the baggage and the camp and to follow on even through the night as fast as they could, Caninius had gathered his meagre horse and rode out into the dusk in the hope of catching up with the Fifth.
Forty miles.
A loaded army with baggage train would take four days to reach the Liger at best. Without baggage, and still in full kit, a good veteran unit in full health could do it in two at a push. Cophus, watching his men move out in simple mail shirts and with swords at their sides and shields slung over their backs, had confidently informed him that by midnight his men would be paddling in the Liger, celebrating their victory.
All along the route from Limonum to the river, they had passed signs of the pursuit. It had been a running battle – quite literally much of the time. Enemy bodies, and a few Roman ones, dotted the ravaged and well-trodden landscape on their journey north, and more than once Caninius had been forced to jump his horse over a hitherto-unnoticed pile of bodies, difficult to discern in the gloom.
And now darkness was here, though in truth with the clear sky and the bright moon, full darkness was actually considerably brighter than dusk had been, and it certainly made riding horses easier.
‘Look there, sir,’ called a decurion in front, pointing, and Caninius strained to see ahead. The riders were cresting a hill, hemmed in by a copse and a small farm on their left and a cave-ridden chalky rock escarpment to their right. Ahead, the most magnificent sight awaited as he passed across the rise.
The Liger River, here one of the widest and most impressive in Gaul, wound like a silver serpent, gleaming in the moonlight, from left to right. Some five hundred paces wide, it was here and there interrupted by sand banks, and yet it was still a breath-taking sight in the silvery glow. And directly ahead stood the objective of the fleeing Andes. Over the preceding years, having campaigned in the area more than once, the legions had constructed a bridge here to replace what had been a native ferry service, the position such a strategic one, just downstream of the confluence of the Liger and Vinana rivers. It was a strong bridge, built to last. It had been useful at times for the movement of troops and goods, though now it was clear that it had also facilitated an invasion of Pictone lands by their neighbours across the river.