At a further blast from the horn, the fleeing turmae led by Varus turned and engaged the Germans who, surprised, suddenly realised that they had outpaced their footmen. As he ordered the men into the fray, he surveyed the field and was satisfied to see that the manoeuvre had generally paid off, with very few groups hard pressed. He joined the men, swinging with his cavalry sword and watching the spray of German blood arc through the air like a fountain. A minute or so later, the couple of dozen footmen attached to the cavalry arrived to discover that only three or four riders still sat their horses.
Varus grinned and shouted to his men.
“Sound the retreat. Time to head back.”
Across the field turmae were sounding the retreat and men were wheeling and heading for the camp before the footmen could get close enough to engage. Here and there a unit failed to pull back in time and met with a gruesome end at the ends of spears and swords but, on the whole, the Roman forces pulled out with little trouble and rode back across the turf. The more brave or foolhardy of the Germans chased the Roman units across the field but pulled up very short when they saw the cavalry units passing through the widely spaced ranks of the Eighth and Tenth Legions. As soon as the horses were through, the shield wall closed and thousands of men began to bang the hilts of their swords on the rim of their shields.
Longinus reined in beside Fronto and Balbus.
“Well that was fun!”
Fronto took a look along the line.
“You came back a bit of a shambles. How’d it go?”
Longinus grinned.
“A bit hairy at times, but I think we got at least two kills for every one of theirs! Now let’s get back into camp and I can tell the General how it all went before we go back to your tent and Celebrate with that nice little hoard of wine I know you keep behind the chest!”
* * * * *
Velius was grumbling as usual.
“Why the hell we have to do this is totally beyond me.”
Priscus rolled his eyes skywards at Fronto and then turned to the training centurion.
“Because it’s important that we get more corn, so we need to control the route for supplies.”
Velius looked around at the column, dropping their kit and separating out into the appropriate units.
“But it’s stupid! We build a camp, so the German builds a camp between us and the supplies. Then we come round them at a hell of a distance and build another bloody camp between them and the corn. What’s to stop them moving the next morning and building a new camp and doing it all over again?”
Fronto sighed and reached over in front of Priscus to gesture at the older man.
“Listen! We’re building a new camp. The position’s perfect. They can’t get round this one to cut us off again. Once we’re in there we’ll have two camps, one on either side of them. There’s no discussion; no argument and no chance of changes, so stop moaning about it or I’ll have someone bury you up to the neck while the fossa’s dug.”
The Seventh and Eighth Legions had been left at the large camp, along with half the cavalry under Varus. The rest of the army had left while it was still dark and by dawn they had already skirted the German camp and were beyond it. The Germans became aware of the Roman column only when they had no hope of preventing them passing. By the time the alarm had gone up and the few skirmishers had come out, the legions had reached their new position less than a mile beyond the German camp. Now the engineers were unpacking their gear ready to build the new fortifications.
The few German skirmishers had made a feeble attempt to stop the Roman line forming, but they had been caught enough by surprise that the legions were forming before more than a score of Germans could muster. Fronto knew that a more concerted attack would be coming, but not yet. Ariovistus would have to try and stop them building a camp here, and so the four legions were deploying in Caesar’s favoured formation. The first four cohorts of each legion would create a front line against German attack. They would be supported by a second line of three cohorts from each legion, slightly wider spread. The third line would carry out the construction of the new camp under the watchful eye of the senior engineers.
And so it stood now. The cohorts were deploying in formation, while the engineers marked out the dimensions of the new camp, smaller than the original, due to the terrain and the planned occupants.
Longinus’ cavalry were set in two wings, one at each end of the line, with the commander himself on the left and prefect Ingenuus leading the right.
Fronto, his head still tender and his shoulder and leg sore, sat between the two lines of defence astride his horse. From here he could clearly see the half mile to the German defences. The few skirmishers were still visible, but staying well out of the way of the auxiliary slingers and archers that graced the Roman defensive line. He could see a force building up at the wall of the German camp like a wave behind a dam.
“Steady lads. Close up the formation. Any minute now there’s going to be a flood of the bastards pour across that grass and into us. We’ve got to hold ‘em off until the engineers are finished.”
One of the optios near the back of the first line looked around and up at Fronto. The legate recognised the junior optio from somewhere.
“How long d’you think it’s going to be, sir?”
“We’ll be here a couple of hours and the bastards will keep coming at us until we’re done.”
“What happens then, sir?”
“Us and the Eleventh get to settle into the camp and dig our heels in. We’ll have some of the Auxilia with us and half the cavalry will be staying. The rest head back to the big camp. We’re going to guard the supply line.”
From somewhere near the front, Priscus’ voice sounded across the troops.
“Arius, do you never stop asking bloody questions? Concentrate on the job at hand.”
Arius jumped at the primus pilus’ voice and jerked straight as a rod. Fronto smiled.
“Relax lad. Just do your job.”
A voice from off to one side of the line called out.
“They’re coming!”
Fronto put his hand to his brow, shading his eyes from the early morning sunlight. Sure enough, the wicker walls had opened and men, both running and riding, came pouring through, though it would take them minutes to cross the field and engage. Fronto turned to look over the second line and saw Tetricus giving out instructions to a number of engineers.
“Tetricus! Make the front bank wide enough to support artillery!”
Tetricus shouted back over the mass.
“Already on it, sir.”
“And get the front bank built first.”
Tetricus grinned.
“Already on it, sir. And before you ask, the ballistae are here and ready to be put in position as soon as the bank’s up.”
Fronto grinned back at him.
“I’ll just let you do your job, shall I?”
He turned back to watch the advancing Germans. He would have very much liked artillery support from the start, but in less than an hour they’d be in position and ready anyway.
“Centurions! The first volley of javelins at thirty yards. Second at twenty.”
The front ranks of men drew back their arms, preparing the javelins for attack. As the Germans pulled closer and closer, Fronto was surprised to find that Ariovistus had been very careful and reserved with the force he committed. Plenty of horses, so probably all his cavalry, but only enough foot to make it even with the Roman defence. They were light skirmishing troops too so, as long as the shield wall held, they should be able to keep the enemy at bay for hours.