It took two hours for our legions to form up and my remaining horsemen to arrive from the river. I told Nergal and Burebista of the battle plan and informed the former that he would take charge of one group of archers on the right flank and Godarz would command the other group on the left. The men’s horses would be stationed well to the rear.
‘In the unlikely event that the enemy breaks through our line, they are to run back to the horses and then ride to the river. That will be our rallying point.’
‘Where will you be, highness?’ asked Nergal.
‘With Burebista’s men guarding our right flank. And pray to Shamash that the Gauls do not decide to attack that flank.’
Burebista’s men were almost entirely armed with lances, with only a handful carrying bows. I joined him as his men were erecting canvas awnings supported by wooden poles to create shaded areas for the horses. Beasts offered even a modicum of shade would be fresher for later carrying men in battle. The Parthians had learned this long ago. He was his usual cheerful self, full of confidence and good humour, a confidence that had infected the men of his dragon.
‘A fine day for killing Romans, lord,’ he beamed.
At that moment Gallia and her company of women rode up. She was dressed in her full war gear of mail shirt, sword, dagger and helmet, with a full quiver of arrows over her shoulder and her bow in its case fixed to her saddle. She wore tight-fitting leggings and brown leather boots, as did all her women. They looked a fearsome spectacle, and with their closed cheek guards they could have passed for men. They rode in perfect formation, for Gallia was aware that many in the army thought that women could not drill and fight as well as men, so she ensured that her women drilled and practised twice as hard as anyone else. She halted, dismounted and strode over to me. She took off her helmet, her blonde hair in one long plait running down her back.
‘Nergal told me that we cannot fight as archers with him. Is this so?’
I saw the look of disbelief on Burebista’s face. He would not dream of talking to me thus. I took Gallia’s arm and led her away.
‘I would prefer, my love, that you and your women stay close to me during this battle. I have enough to worry about without wondering if you are safe.’
She yanked her arm free. ‘You cannot stop us from fighting.’
I was in no mood to argue. ‘You will stay here with Burebista until I return. These are my orders. Get your horses under cover, water them and eat something. It’s going to be a long day.’
I mounted Remus and pointed at Burebista. ‘Make sure they stay here, I hold you responsible.’
I rode to both wings of the army, first to the left flank where Godarz was giving instructions concerning the placement of spare quivers, each one holding thirty arrows. Like me he wore a cotton tunic only, though he at least had a silk vest underneath for extra protection. Though Spartacus had ordered a thousand archers to be positioned on each flank, in truth there were fewer. For a start, every tenth man was in the rear tending to ten horses, while others were charged with bringing water from the water carts to those who would be shooting. Those who were not archers did not realise that a bowman could not fire arrows all day. Even the most accomplished archer needed rest; it was impossible to maintain a firing rate of seven arrows a minute for long periods. Rather, short, intense bursts were the norm. I walked down the line as men attached their bowstrings and flexed their bows. Some I recognised as Parthians, their olive skin, long black hair and brown eyes giving them away. I slapped shoulders, shook hands and shared jokes. They were in high spirits. I wondered how many would still be alive in a few hours.
‘Remember what I said, if the line breaks don’t wait around. Get to the horses and get away as fast as you can. Men with bows on foot are no match for heavily armed legionaries.’
‘Don’t worry,’ replied Godarz, ‘I will outrun these youngsters if that happens.’
I embraced him and then rode across to the right flank where Nergal faced the Gauls. Because this wing was outflanked, I had positioned Burebista’s dragon directly behind Nergal’s men, around five hundreds yards to the south.
‘We are there, Nergal, you see us? At the first sign of them attacking we will come to your aid.’
‘Yes, highness, we will not let you down.’
He was a good man and I was thankful that he was fighting with me. ‘Praxima is with Gallia and I will keep a close eye on them, so have no fear.’
He grinned and saluted. ‘Thank you, highness.’
I rode back to Burebista’s dragon with Rhesus.
‘Clever, this father of Gallia,’ he said. ‘Obviously brains runs in the family.’
‘The man is an animal,’ I spat.
‘True, but he certainly sees the bigger picture. Once he got our gold he obviously bribed all the other chiefs to join him, then went to the Romans and offered them the help of all the Gauls to crush him.’
‘How does that help him?’ I was not really interested in Gallia’s father, but I could tell that Rhesus had been considering the matter, so I indulged him.
‘He beats us, and afterwards he destroys the Romans as well. There must be sixty thousand Gauls here, more than a match for two legions, especially if he stabs them in the back. Clever, very clever.’
‘You forgot one thing, Rhesus.’
‘Highness?’
‘He has to beat us fist for his plan to work.’
Moments later I heard the blast of trumpets and bugles and then the roar of thousands of men cheering and shouting. Soon the air was filed with the low, thundering rumble of soldiers banging their spears against their shields. Spartacus told me later what had happened during the initial clash. Our legions had advanced, a great wall of steel, mail and leather, walking at a steady pace until they were within a hundred feet of the enemy, then the trumpets sounded the charge and the whole of the front line ran forward, the men hurling their javelins into the dense mass of the enemy. The Romans had locked their shields to their front and above their heads, so the javelin storm had a negligible effect, but on the wings it was a different matter. The rows of stakes made it impossible for our men to come to close quarters with their swords, but the ill-disciplined Gauls stood in open order, not in a solid mass of locked shields, and many fought bare headed, their hair washed in lime and combed into long spikes. Within seconds dozens had been felled by javelins, the thin points penetrating flesh and splitting heads. The Gauls threw spears and axes in return, but most slammed harmlessly into our shields. The Gauls also had some archers and slingers who kept up a withering fire against our line. The lead pellets of the slingers took a steady toll of our men for their accuracy was amazing, and they could put a shot into the small, arched-shaped gap between a shield held vertically by a soldier in the front rank and another held horizontally above his head by the man standing behind him. As all our men wore Roman helmets, the wounds were mostly serious but not lethal, though occasionally a pellet would kill a man and a gap would appear where he fell. It was filled instantly by the man behind. The Gauls kept up a steady volley of missiles against our men opposite, who were unable to pull down the stakes, as it would mean exposing their torsos to the enemy’s fire. And once our line had steadied the Gauls retreated from their rows of stakes to keep just out of range of our javelins. So on the two wings the fighting became one of desultory missile fire as our men weathered a decreasing hail of spears, arrows and sling shots, for the Gauls quickly exhausted their ammunition.