Spartacus sat in his chair, poured himself a cup of wine and drained it. ‘You’re right, but seeing as you are the commander of the horse there seems little point in leaving some of your command with me. No one would know what to do with it.’
‘I could leave Nergal with you,’ I suggested.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘That will further weaken you. We don’t know how many Romans are coming from the south, but I estimate that you and Castus will be outnumbered from the outset. I see little point in lengthening the odds. And take Gallia and her women with you. I want you concentrating on your own battle, not fretting about other things. Any questions?’
There were none.
‘Good. You will both leave at first light. Pacorus, you will command.’
Byrd and a dozen of his scouts were sent ahead as a yellow sun rose into an orange sky at dawn the next day, as nearly three thousand horsemen rode south. Despite his protestations, I insisted that three hundred horsemen remained behind with Spartacus to give his force at least a sprinkling of cavalry. They were all horse archers, and I said that at the very least he could dismount them and use them as archers should he so wish. Hopefully he would employ them to harry and probe the Roman lines. I left them under the command of Godarz, whose advice Spartacus listened to and who as a Parthian would at least know how to use these men on the battlefield. Rhesus also stayed with them. I took Gallia and her company with me, stressing to Gafarn that he was to keep a close eye on them and keep them as a reserve. Behind the horse, marching six abreast along a dirt track and kicking up a large pall of dust, came the Germans, thousands of them dressed in mail shirts, big men with long hair, long beards, and carrying Roman shields and javelins. They had Roman swords in their scabbards and Roman helmets on their heads, but their long dark locks and bushy facial hair marked them out as enemies of Rome. I left Burebista in command of the main body of cavalry as I rode forward with Nergal to scout ahead.
We rode through rolling green hills, abundant vineyards and meadows filled with wild flowers. After two hours we ran into Byrd and his men coming from the opposite direction. He reported that the vanguard of the enemy’s army was five miles to the south. It was now mid-morning and the day was getting warm. We had ridden into undulating country, though the centre of which snaked a river. The river itself was wide and its banks steep, though the level of water was low following the passing of the spring melt waters from the winter snows that had covered the slopes of the mountains many miles to the west. I told Byrd to ride north and instruct Castus to march with haste to this spot, for here, beside a river that one of Byrd’s men had heard was called the Pisaurus, was where I would fight the Romans.
It took two hours for the Germans to arrive, and during that time I mapped out a battle plan in my head. A site that caught my eye was a level piece of ground between an outside bend of the river on my left and a large, gently rising hill on the right. The distance between the riverbank and the base of the hill was about a mile, perhaps more. While the men rested and sated their thirsts, watered their horses in the shallow river and ate a meagre meal of hard biscuit, myself, Nergal, Burebista, Castus and Cannicus gathered beneath one of the few trees that dotted the plain, an old chestnut with gnarled branches. I was conscious that I held command, but was careful not to assume a dictatorial tone.
‘I believe that this piece of ground offers us the best opportunity for defeating the Romans,’ I said.
‘I am a gladiator, not a general,’ observed Castus, ‘so it is your words that should hold sway, Pacorus.’
‘It is you and your Germans, my friend,’ I smiled at him, ‘who hold the key for us. But I fear the price in blood may be high.’
‘We do not fear spilling our blood,’ said Cannicus.
‘That is true,’ added Castus, ‘so tell us your plan.’
I gestured ahead with my arm. ‘Between that bend in the river, there, on the left, and the hill on the right, that is where we stand and fight. We anchor our left flank on the river and deploy in line between there and the base of the hill.
‘It will be a thin line,’ said Castus. He was right. The normal formation for a legion in battle formation was ten cohorts arranged in three lines, four cohorts in the first line, and three in the second and third lines. But to fill most of the gap between the river and the hill his two legions would have to deploy in two lines.
‘On your right flank I will deploy five hundred horse,’ I continued, ‘with another two hundred on the other side of the river to protect against us being outflanked.’
‘Where will the other two thousand horse be, highness?’ asked Nergal.
‘Hidden behind the hill. I’m relying on the Romans attacking what they see directly ahead as they deploy in front of your men, Castus. They always attack.’
‘What if they don’t?’ asked Burebista.
‘Their pride and arrogance won’t allow them to fight a defensive battle, and remember that these are the legionaries that have destroyed Crixus. They will want to wipe out another group of slaves. That will work to our advantage.’ I prayed to Shamash that it would be so.
Two hours later the first Roman soldiers appeared, small red figures fanning out over the plain in the distance. My two thousand horse were already hidden behind the hill, but I ordered Burebista to take his five hundred horse further forward and deploy into a long line the other side of the hill, to dissuade any curious Roman scouts. Burebista’s men were mostly spearmen, for I wanted to keep our horse archers hidden until the trap was sprung. He wanted to charge at the Romans while they were deploying, for before very long the horizon was filled with legionaries, all advancing at a slow but steady pace, while on the wings were groups of horsemen. I told him to remain where he was, and to focus on preventing any Roman scouts from getting on the hill rather than meeting an early death at the hands of an enemy archer or slinger. There would be time enough for fighting.
It was now midday and still the Romans were deploying, while Castus had already drawn up his legions with his left flank anchored on the riverbank. The water may have been shallow, but at this particular bend the banks were steep where years of melt water surges had cut into the ground. I rode over to where he was overseeing the front rank of his men. His warriors were resting their shields and helmets on the ground and nonchalantly talking to each other. I could see no apprehension in their faces. Why should there be? After all, many of these men had faced the Romans on the plateau last year and had won. Then again, so had Crixus’ men. I put that thought out of my mind.
‘Don’t attack, let then attack you,’ I said to Castus as I stood beside him looking at the Roman army, which was now being moved into battle position by officers on horses and centurions on foot. Cohorts were forming up into close order, with trumpets conveying instructions. The Roman cavalry was now grouping opposite our right flank as the Romans closed up on the riverbank. So far, so good.
‘Take care, Pacorus,’ said Castus, grinning at me. We embraced and he slapped me hard on the back.
‘You too, my friend,’ I replied, ‘and remember, you have to hold them.’
He spat on the ground and hoisted up his shield with his left hand. ‘We’ll hold.’
I mounted Remus and rode over to where Burebista was slowly withdrawing his horsemen to fill the gap between the Germans and the base of the hill. His five hundred men were spread thin in two lines.
‘Their horse will attack us soon enough, lord, and when they do they will cut through us. We are too few.’
‘They will not bother with you once they have pushed you back,’ I said. ‘They will try to wheel into the Germans’ right flank. Just pull back and stay alive and wait until I commit the rest of the horse.’
We shook hands and I rode back to where Nergal and two thousand cavalry were drawn up in two large blocks, each of ten companies standing side by side. Every company was three abreast and a hundred strong. Spear points glinted in the sun and quivers were weighed down with arrows. Gafarn was also present, his horse scraping at the ground with one of his front feet. I had sent Gallia, her women and another company of horse archers across the river, telling her that they were to cover the river and not let any enemy escape should they try to flee across the water. In reality I wanted to keep her out of harm’s way as much as circumstances would allow.