The defensive line facing the Fifth collapsed, and the centurions took advantage of the change to make their move, the legion piling into the enemy and hacking, stabbing and slaying everywhere they could despite their exhaustion. Only the enemy’s right flank was open, and even there only a short stretch of it, close to the river bank. Andean warriors were fleeing across the grass or into the comparative safety of the water.
The cavalry on the hill around Caninius were cheering now, all having drawn themselves to a halt around their commander.
‘Thank you Mars. Thank you Fabius,’ grinned Caninius, and then turned to his small cavalry force. ‘Come on, boys. Let’s get stuck in and help the tired Fifth.’
Behind him, the tribune was shaking his head again in disbelief. ‘They’re beaten sir. You don’t have to do this now.’
Caninius laughed, and couldn’t help but notice a faint edge of hysteria in his own voice. ‘You’re absolutely right, Plautius, I no longer have to do this. Now I want to do it. Come on.’
The tribune stared in horror as his legate drummed his heels into his horse’s flanks, urging the beast on into a run towards the chaos below, where the Andes were now in disarray, some fighting a desperate last stand while others threw down their weapons in an attempt to surrender, and yet more waded out into the dangerous waters of the river in the hope of achieving freedom.
The battle had only just begun, but it was already over.
* * * * *
Varus wiped the blood and sweat from his brow and sagged in his saddle. ‘The timing was lucky. It could have gone horribly wrong, but it was the only way I could think of to defeat the Andes without them fleeing back into their woodlands and vanishing – and that’s something interesting. How familiar are you with tribal standards?’
Caninius and Fabius exchanged a blank look and shrugged. Varus rubbed his sore neck and gestured to the far side of the river, where precious few of the enemy had managed to make it into the woods and flee. ‘There were a lot of different signs on display down there, but among the boar standards that are symbolic of so many tribes, the few ‘twin horses’ of the rebel Pictones and the wolves of the Andes, there were quite a few spread-winged eagles.’
‘Roman?’
‘Not quite,’ Varus leaned back in his saddle. ‘The eagle is also a tribal symbol of the Carnutes.’
‘Surely for the love of Jove the Carnutes wouldn’t dare raise a sword against Rome again? Not so soon after Caesar stood on their necks this winter?’
‘It would certainly appear imprudent,’ Varus sighed, ‘but I spent plenty of time riding among the Carnute lands in the winter, and I know their standards. There were Carnutes in that army, which helps explain why it was so large. The Andes are a smaller tribe, and the rebel Pictones were few. Being bolstered by the Carnutes would give them both the numbers and the confidence to take on a Roman force. I also note with some interest that no Carnute standards can be found with those taken in the fight. Somehow the Carnute elements managed to melt away. It’s possible there are still Carnutes among the prisoners, but they will be all-but impossible to identify.’
‘We’re going to have to deal with them then.’
The cavalry commander nodded wearily. ‘They seem to be a tribe that simply do not learn from their mistakes. They’ll need to have this one explained to them rather forcefully.’
‘Should we contact Caesar?’
Varus glanced at Fabius with a frown. ‘No. You’re the senior commander in the field here. Labienus prosecutes wars in the general’s name and only apprises Caesar of the situation when he’s already won them. It is your decision.’
Fabius nodded unhappily, clearly uncertain about making command decisions on that level. ‘Then we’ll have to send at least a legion into Carnute lands to chastise them.’
Caninius, gore- and mud-spattered, turned to Varus, a weary smile on his face. He looked tired, but then every last man on the field looked exhausted. ‘The next question is what to do with the captives. Take hostages of the powerful, ransom others, and take a slave tithe before sending them back to be resettled, I suppose,’ he murmured. ‘Though sending them back is asking for another rising, especially if they think they can count on the Carnutes for aid.’
Varus looked across at Fabius meaningfully and the legate nodded in return.
‘I think we can safely anticipate Caesar here, Caninius. There’s been something of a shift in standard policy. Send the weak, the old, the children and the women back to their homes. Anyone who’s strong enough to wield a spear should be roped together and sent to Massilia, along with a half share of all spoils. The rest can go to the men.’
Caninius whistled through his teeth. ‘You think that’s Caesar decision.’
‘Trust me.’
‘Well it’ll prevent future unrest, I suppose. You’ll do the same with the Carnutes?’
‘I will. Leaving them broke, undermanned and unarmed seems to be the only way to keep them down,’ Fabius grumbled. ‘For now, let’s get things wrapped up here and get to camp. There are plenty of tribunes who sat at the back during the fight who can deal with the clean-up. Those of us who drew a sword and rode with Mars need some sleep. Then after we’ve had some time to recover we can arrange a march into Carnute lands. How far is your camp from here?’
Caninius gave a humourless laugh. ‘Near forty miles. I’d suggest we made camp here, but the whole thing was so much of a rush all our gear is back at Limonum.’
‘My horse and I can manage forty miles if there’s a bed and a cup of something soothing at the end of it,’ Varus murmured. ‘Slowly though, the poor beast has had a tiring day.’
Fabius tapped his lip. ‘Returning to Limonum would be a waste of time for my men. We’ve got the essentials with us. We’ll make camp here and cross the river in the morning, moving back northeast and dealing with the Carnutes. We can use your old base at Noviodunum as our centre of operations. Your centurion there’s a good man and he’ll be grateful to see us.’
‘I suppose with the fight knocked out of the Andes there’s no need for such a large force here,’ Caninius replied, and all three men fell silent, watching the legions below herding groups of prisoners to be roped and gathering the dead for burial. The sound of thundering hooves drew their attention, since everything else on the field of battle was now moving at an exhausted pace, very sedate and quiet. The commanders turned to see a small cavalry detachment with scouts ahead riding for their position.
‘Who’s that?’ Fabius asked blandly, almost too tired for curiosity.
Caninius sighed. ‘Must be the vanguard for the Fifteenth, who’re following on behind. They must be closer than I thought. They must have moved damned fast.’
‘They appear to be in a hurry, certainly. They must not know it’s over.’
Varus’ brow crumpled into a frown to see a senior tribune in among the riders.
‘Senior officer riding like Hades has a spear at his back? Odd.’
The three men blinked away their exhaustion, coming alert with the realisation that something else was happening here other than the reserves arriving on the field. As the horsemen reined in, the senior tribune danced his mount out front and saluted his commander and the other officers.
‘Tribune. You seem to be in something of a hurry? The legion sprinting is it?’
The man shook his head, rolling aching shoulders. ‘We’re not with the infantry, sir. I passed the Fifteenth around twenty five miles back. I came from the camp with important news from our friend in Limonum, sir.’
‘Spit it out then, man,’ Caninius said wearily, yet with a sense of foreboding.
‘It seems there is an army on the move towards the Narbonensis province, led by a rogue Senone leader named Drapes.’
‘Gods, first the Carnutes and now the Senones,’ Fabius grunted. ‘A gold coin to the man who can name me a tribe that’s not busy rising against us. Don’t they realise they’re beaten. Who is this Drapes, then?’