Wounds of Honour: Empire I (24 page)

8

Legatus Sollemnis arrived on the Wall at the Rock with the Sixth Legion’s cavalry detachment shortly after darkness fell two nights later. The rest of the legion was more than thirty miles back down the road to Yew Grove, encamped after a day slogging their way north at the forced march, and still a day away. He had raced forward to take control of the Wall forces on receiving word from his Asturian scouts, ranging across the frontier zone under Perennis’s command, reports that the barbarian warband was already in the field. Their latest dispatches had Calgus poised to strike down the North Road towards his main eastern strength, and a much greater prize besides. Once past the Rock, the Wall’s eastern gateway, it was less than a five-mile march south to Noisy Valley, his main supply base for the Wall units. This, he suspected, was the prize for which Calgus would commit his strength.

Jumping down from his horse, he hurried into the fort’s headquarters, acknowledging the sentries’ salutes with a distracted wave of his hand. As he’d hoped, not only the cohort’s grim-faced prefect but also his own senior tribune Appius were waiting for him in the lamplight, a map of the area spread across the table in front of them.

‘Gentlemen, I suspect we haven’t much time so I’ll forgo the usual formalities. What’s the situation?’

Appius swiftly painted a picture for him, pointing to the key points on the map.

‘Calgus has thrown at least two-thirds of his force straight down the main road, with no attempt at concealment whatsoever. They’re about ten miles out right now and coming straight on. They’ve already burnt out the fort at Three Mountains, Yew Tree and Red River, and we expect them to do the same to Roaring River very shortly.’

‘What about the garrisons?’

‘The cavalry detachment attached to the Three Mountains garrison seems to have attempted a defence of the fort. A few survivors have straggled in, but from their reports we shouldn’t expect to recover the unit. The Brits seem to have a substantial cavalry force in the field, perhaps five hundred horses.’

‘Fools! Of all the times that we can least afford to lose horsemen … and the detachments at the other forts?’

‘Falling back in good order, sir. It would seem that the sight of burning forts on the horizon got their attention.’

‘At least we can count them into our covering force. What about the Twentieth?’

‘A messenger arrived three hours ago, with bad news, I’m afraid sir. Twentieth Legion won’t arrive for another five days; they’ve had problems of their own with the local tribes. The Second has caught up with them as planned, but they’ve still only got as far as Veterans’ Hill.’

Sollemnis frowned at the news.

‘Still several days out, then, yet how I long for their arrival. Until they join us Calgus has the initiative, and from the way he’s acting I’d say he knows it. I should have put the Sixth in play three days ago, instead of which they’ll arrive footsore and in need of rest late tomorrow.’

He rubbed at tired eyes, shaking his head wryly.

‘I gambled that the delay was compensated by my flexibility to move either side of the mountains if Calgus’s move down the North Road were a feint to distract me from the west. It was a poor guess, despite the strategic sense it made, and so here we are scrambling to catch up with the game.’

He rubbed at his weary eyes again before slapping the table with decision.

‘We shall have to manage with what we have. Prefect Galen, have your men ready to pull out within the hour, and burn everything that will burn. Calgus won’t stop at Roaring River; he needs to keep his men on the move if he’s going to try what I think he intends, so I expect the warband to be knocking at your gates before daybreak. You’re to pull back to the east and link up with the auxiliary battlegroup forming at Cauldron Pool. Appius …’

‘Legatus.’

‘Send riders to the Sixth, I want them moving up the road at first light and no later, forced march. Send riders to the prefects at White Strength and Cauldron Pool; warn them that the Rock and Noisy Valley are being abandoned, and that they’re on their own for the time being. They’re authorised to pull cohorts from the Wall units farther down the line in both directions if they see fit to form larger formations, but I don’t want fighting men thrown away defending ground needlessly. As far as I’m concerned Calgus can mess about on the Wall as much as he wants – the forts are just wooden walls for the most part. We built them once, we can build them again. Men are more important than ground at this point, make that
very
clear.’

The officer nodded his understanding, scribbling notes on a wax tablet.

‘Good. I’m riding south to Noisy Valley with my bodyguard, we’ll have to prepare what’s left of their supplies for the torch if we’re going to deny Calgus that stepping stone, but I want to get as many more wagons away as possible beforehand. You’re to stay here and help make sure the local boys get away in good order, and that the fort is burned out in good time. I don’t want to be fighting outside these walls when we come north again.’

‘Yes, sir. What do you think Calgus intends after he gets south of the Wall?’

‘If I was Calgus, I’d have my eye fixed on two prizes. Firstly I’d want to take Noisy Valley intact, with its supplies and weapons. That way he can keep his men moving without having to forage for food, either south for Yew Grove or west to roll up the Wall forts. Then I’d be looking to destroy our legions one at a time, overwhelm them with sheer numbers before we get a chance to build up a proper sized army that can grind his warbands into mince. Either way I reckon he’ll come looking for the Sixth, hoping to roll us over before The Second and Twentieth arrive. Noisy Valley he’s welcome to, he can play in the ashes of those empty sheds as long as he pleases, but as Mars is my witness, I’m damned if I’ll let him anywhere near my eagle until it’s accompanied by two others just the same. Let’s be about it, gentlemen!’

The first indication to the Tungrians that the warband had struck was a distant glow against the eastern horizon. On being called by the sentries, Julius, as that night’s guard captain, took one look and called for the cohort’s senior officers. First Spear and Prefect stood on the fort’s high wall for several minutes, watching the minute flicker of light in silence. At length the senior centurion turned away from the view. Taking no pride in the vindication of his professional opinion, he turned to Equitius.

‘That will be the Rock burning, at a guess. The warband must have come down the North Road during the night and attacked the fort without much warning. Impressive discipline to make a move like that in the dark with untrained savages … sentries, watch for another fire, a little to the south of the first. Duty officer, enter orders in the night report that all men are to parade at dawn and be ready to leave the fort at short notice. Pull the mile fort units back in after breakfast, but leave a fast runner at each point to keep watch for any activity over the Wall.’

He stamped off back to his bed, leaving the guards to watch for any further sign. It came an hour before daybreak, another tiny flicker of light in the distance, and the dawn revealed a distant plume of black smoke that rose in concert with that of the original blaze, and once again the senior officers grimly gathered to view the scene. Julius, off duty but unwilling to sleep, grimaced at the sight, chewing morosely at an apple while Marcus stood silently alongside him, not quite able to fully comprehend what was happening on the horizon. Julius shook his head sadly.

‘Noisy Valley. There goes the forward supply station. We can only hope that Northern Command had the good sense to get all of the weapons and grain out before the barbarians decided to strike. I don’t much fancy tackling thirty thousand blue-noses if they’ve all got a belly full of our bread and half a dozen of our spears apiece to repatriate.’

After breakfast the cohort’s women started their journey to the safety of Waterside Fort on the west coast, thirty miles in the opposite direction from the horizon’s grim signs of battle, the older women and small children riding in mule carts while the remainder walked alongside. A courier galloped up to the walls minutes later, his horse and those of his four escorts lathered in sweat from the speed of their journey. Equitius hurried down to the gate to receive the dispatch, calling the officers together in his office. The courier party, their horses watered, rode away to the south-west, heading for the Second Tungrian Cohort at Fair Meadow.

‘The Rock and Noisy Valley are burnt out, but their units are largely intact and falling back to the west to hook up with the units gathering at Cauldron Pool. Northern Command has given orders for the prefect commanding Cauldron Pool to exercise local initiative, but to avoid any last stand that would result in heavy loss of trained men …’

The centurions waited imperturbably, wondering how they would have reacted to an order to abandon the fort. Cauldron Pool was only nine miles distant, with only the fort at Badger Holes between them to block the barbarian progress to the Hill.

‘Early reports are that two warbands of about ten thousand men apiece have been deployed through the gap in the Wall, one turned east and driving for White Strength, the other advancing south. That leaves something like another ten thousand men as yet uncommitted somewhere in their rear, and a lot of options still open for Calgus to exploit. We’re directed to deploy forward to Cauldron Pool and join the Second Asturian Horse, the Batavians, the Raetians and the Thracians, plus our neighbours the Second Tungrians, to form a strong combined blocking force. The general’s intention would seem to be that of deterring any westward movement by the forces already identified, while we wait for the legions to move in from their forward camps. After that we’ll start trying to find the warbands, and destroy them one at a time. Anything to add, First Spear?’

Frontinius rubbed his scalp, stepping out in front of the centurions.

‘Brief your men that we’re marching east to take a blocking position along with other cohorts from the line forts.
Don’t
tell them that the total strength of the blocking force between the rest of the line forts and the blue-noses will only be five hundred cavalry and three thousand infantry.
Do
tell them that we’ll be away from the fort for a long period, and that we are very likely to see combat. No, tell them that we are certain to see combat. Be ready to march as soon as the sentries are back in, guard commander to sound the recall. That’s all. Centurion Corvus, a word.’

He drew Marcus to one side.

‘What I didn’t mention yesterday, when I gave your century the reward of being first in the line of march, was the role traditionally played by the leading century in this cohort in time of war.’

‘Sir?’

‘The first-placed century gets all the kudos, carries the standard about and dies gloriously in its defence if all is lost. The
second
-placed century, on the other hand, gets all the dirty jobs, scouting in front of the cohort, diversionary tasks and the like. In other words, all of the fun. Are you game for a little
fun
, Centurion?’

Marcus straightened his back, pushing his chin out.

‘Yes, sir!’

‘Good. In that case I’ve got just the job for you …’

With the 9th Century detached for the First Spear’s speculative mission, the cohort marched from the fort seven hundred men strong, Julius’s 5th Century marching with the standard at the heart of the column that snaked out on to the military road and headed purposefully away to the east at the double. Marcus waited in front of his men until the last were clear of the vicus, then turned to address them over the diminishing clatter of hobnails on the road’s surface. His farewell to Rufius had been hurried, his friend simply clasping arms and tugging his head down to whisper into his ear.

‘Keep it simple, Marcus, and don’t be afraid to ask Dubnus for advice if you’re uncertain about anything. I expect to see your pretty Roman features within a day or two, so don’t disappoint me.’

Marcus nodded to himself without realising it, then turned to face the century, drawn up in parade formation.

‘Very well, Ninth Century, we’re on detached duty until our present task is finished and we head for Cauldron Pool to rejoin the cohort. Let’s go hunting.’

Four hours later, having slipped through the wall at a now unguarded mile fort, far enough from the Hill to be out of sight of anyone watching the fort, the 9th stole quietly back towards their camp in the steady light of a cloudy afternoon. The emphasis now was upon stealth rather than speed across ground, the soldiers picking each footfall with care to avoid snapping fallen branches, their passage marked by nothing noisier than the buzzing of disturbed flies in the oppressively heavy air. Dubnus, long accustomed to the hill country’s weather, looked at the sky for the tenth time in half an hour, working out how long they had before the inevitable rain started falling. The century was stretched across the rough country in a half-mile-wide net, each tent party spaced across its own hundred-pace frontage, the men at each end keeping sight of their opposite numbers in the neighbouring parties. Marcus and Dubnus moved silently in the rear, waiting for any sign that their men had made contact, their backs covered by a watchful Antenoch. If the Hill were under observation, for whatever purpose, they would know soon enough. At length, later than Dubnus had predicted, a steady rain began to fall, slowly growing heavier until water had penetrated down everyone’s necks, no matter how tightly capes were fastened.

‘At least the rain will cover any noise we’re making.’

Dubnus snorted at Marcus’s comment, flicking water out of his beard.

‘You’ve officially been here too long when you start finding reasons why it’s good for rain to fall.’

In the early afternoon, after an hour or more of painstakingly slow progress in the continuing rain, a flurry of hand signals rippled down the line of soldiers, who, as instructed, went to earth once the message was passed on. Marcus and Dubnus made careful haste up the line until they reached the soldier who had raised the alert, behind the cover of a thorn bush. He pointed forward, then pointed to his nose and sniffed audibly. Marcus sampled the air, finding the slight tang of wood smoke on the breeze, and nodded to Dubnus, who leant in close to whisper in his ear above the rain’s pattering.