The legionary shrugged.
“It’s vaguely possible we could drop a section of the palisade as it is down from the bridge? That would dam the river pretty well.” He frowned. “But can I ask what you’re wanting to dam the river for, sir?”
Fronto pointed at the Fourteenth Legion, lining up on the bank downstream of the bridge.
“Need to lower the water level so the legions can cross in bulk, rather than jammed tightly onto that bridge.”
Again, the legionary shook his head.
“But if you dam the river at the bridge, sir, with that current, you’ll only have a couple of minutes, and then the river will flood the flat land above the bank before flowing back round the dam. Basically you’ll be putting the entire battlefield ankle-deep in water and mud, and there’ll still only be time to run a few men across. And think of how dangerous the river bed might be, sir? Could be deep mud.”
Fronto rounded angrily on him with a growl.
“Then what do you suggest? I’m running out of time very quickly, and you’re just tearing down any idea we have.”
The legionary frowned. “We’ll just have to go over the river, sir. Safer, dryer, and probably quicker.”
“What? How?”
The man gestured at the palisade.
“If we stop tearing them apart, you can see the stockade is already solidly bound. The whole thing is tightly-roped together. Standing upright, it’s a stockade. Lay it flat, sir, and it becomes a bridge.”
Fronto blinked. “That’s genius! Can you do it?”
The legionary tapped his chin.
“I’d say we want ninety feet of stockade to be sure we reach across. We want to check the rope binding and maybe strengthen or repair it where needed. Then several men are going to have to cross, dragging one end by ropes. Then they have to secure it to the bank. They can do that using some of these stakes that have already been dismantled. Then men at this end haul it tight and secure the near end. It wouldn’t take the weight of a cart, and you’ll have to limit the number of men that cross at a time. I’d say not more than thirty or forty. But a lot safer than a dam.”
Fronto grinned. “And can you do it quickly?”
The man nodded.
“With enough men. Give me a century and it’ll take about five minutes to take a section down and check the bindings; then another five to get it down the hill and into the water. Five more to get it across and then five or ten to secure it at both ends. I’d say, twenty or twenty-five minutes at the quickest. Is that fast enough, sir?”
Fronto shook his head. “Maybe… maybe not. It’ll certainly be tight.”
The legionary shrugged again. “Can’t think of a better way, sir. The dam won’t work, though. I do know that.”
Fronto’s brow furrowed. “If we’re cutting it that fine, I need to get as many men across as possible. Can you string more than one of these across?”
“Given enough men, I don’t see why not, sir, but the men swimming across and securing the bridge will need to be protected from the enemy while they work.”
Fronto smiled.
“Alright. Go up and explain it quickly to Galeo. Him and his men will get started. Get three sections of palisade down. We’ll string them across between here and Sabinus’ fort. The walls of the fort will protect you from the enemy when you get across and you can secure the ropes to it. Might make it quicker. We’ll give you covering fire as you work. Once you get across, shout to the defenders and they can take down sections of the rear wall so we can get the legions across and straight into the fort. I’ll go back down and send you up a cohort.”
The legionary saluted and ran off up toward the auxiliary prefect where he worked at the stockade. Fronto watched him go, impressed. Caesar had underestimated these non-citizen legionaries. Glancing down at the scene below, he realised that Sabinus had pulled much of his force away from the rear wall by the river to bolster the beleaguered men at the other three walls. As he scanned the shoreline, frowning, he turned to the auxiliary archers and their commander nearby.
“Decius!”
The prefect looked back up from where he was pointing out targets to his men.
“Sir?”
“Sabinus’ rear wall is unprotected and there are a few Belgae trying to get round on the river bank. Discourage them, will you? And shortly we’ll be trying something there, so have your men concentrate on keeping that rear wall completely clear of barbarians.”
Decius nodded and smiled, turning back to his men. There were small groups of Belgae making their way along the bank toward the badly-defended riverside ramparts. Moments later, as Fronto watched, arrows began to find their targets and barbarians toppled into the water with a splash. The current down by the bridge began to take on a pinkish hue.
Without waiting any longer, he ran once more down to the men of the legions below.
“Plancus!” he bellowed. The young legate turned from his position by the bank.
“Change of plan. Get your men to the river opposite the fort.”
Without waiting for acknowledgement or reply, he ran across to the soldiers at the near end of the bridge.
“Whichever cohort’s near me, get up that hill and join in. They’ll tell you what to do. Now go!”
The signifers and centurions pushed their way through the mass and started to run up the hill, the legionaries following their standards. Fronto took a deep breath and ran across to the ground opposite the fort. Briefly, and nervously, he looked back up the hill at the archers firing their arrows overhead, but the missiles were coming down with deadly accuracy on the opposite bank and picking off the last barbarians brave enough to try the difficult approach.
He watched with unease for several minutes, tapping his fingers nervously on his scabbard and then, turning, squinted past the ranks of archers to check the activity at the top of the slope. Once again, he was impressed with the quality of these men. Already the three sections of palisade were unearthed and being gently moved down the slope. Even as he watched, the archers parted to allow the engineers and legionaries through with their makeshift bridges. Gods, they were fast.
“Hold on, Sabinus. We’re coming…”
* * * * *
Ten minutes later, Fronto was still standing on the north bank, twitching at the urgency of their mission. He watched with growing tension as the legionary engineer, whose name he had discovered was Biorix, tied off the last rope securing the far end. Now all three bridges were attached to the opposite bank. Tapping his foot impatiently, he watched the engineers carefully hauling the bridge ropes as tight as possible and then tying them to the stakes that had been hammered into the ground here. Opposite, three large holes had been broken in the fort’s riverside rampart.
He clucked his tongue irritably and was about to shout something when he saw Biorix waving at him. With a sigh of relief, he turned to the legion assembled behind him.
“Get across. Twenty men to each crossing at a time for now!”
The legionaries stormed onto the makeshift bridges and Fronto watched with sudden alarm as the wooden walkway dipped and disappeared below the water. However, it took but a moment for him to realise they had only sunk a little under the weight of the men. The soldiers, nervous though they were, crossed in water only ankle deep. As the first men reached the far side and ran into the fort, a familiar figure in burnished armour and with a red plume appeared in one of the gateways. Sabinus was directing the new arrivals to plug the worst gaps in his defences.
With a sigh of relief, Fronto turned to Plancus.
“Looks good. I’m going across. I think we can just settle now into getting one century across at a time.”
The young legate nodded, staring with clear nerves at the submerged and shuddering bridge. Ignoring him, Fronto joined the next group of men to cross. Splashing along the thirty yards, he grinned as he climbed up the embankment and Sabinus slapped him on the shoulder.