‘Close up!’ Crispus ordered. ‘Close up!’
His men were no more than ten paces from the foot of the barricade, and the officer commanding the second line brought it to a halt. Cato held up his arm.
‘Blood Crows! Halt!’
The auxiliaries stopped, twenty paces back from the rearmost legionaries. There was a slight rise that allowed Cato a clear view of the mouth of the gorge, and he blinked away the rain that had dripped from the brim of his helmet into his eyes. He could see the first rank of the legionaries starting to clamber up the barricade, shields overhead. The long swords of the natives slashed down at the curved surfaces. Some had axes, and their blows landed with splintering thuds that carried clearly to Cato’s ears as he looked on. Most of Crispus’s men could barely move under the intensity of the blows raining down at them, but here and there individual legionaries had managed to climb high enough to strike back at the enemy, and the fight raged along the length of the barricade.
‘Push on! Push on!’ the centurion cried hoarsely, and Cato was reminded of Macro in the man’s fearless drive to overcome his foes. ‘Keep pushing, lads!’
More legionaries forced their way up to join their comrades duelling desperately in the rain. Swords flickered in savage thrusts and men tried to batter each other with their shields. Some of the natives grabbed at the legionaries’ shields and tried to wrench them aside to allow their comrades to strike home. Behind the fighting line, the follow-up ranks of the first three cohorts were densely packed together as they were funnelled into the gorge. For the moment, the attack had stalled as the two sides battled for control of the top of the barricade.
A horn sounded from behind the enemy warriors, a deep braying note that echoed off the crags on either side. At the sound, the enemy cheered again, their voices horribly amplified. A dark shape plunged down from the top of the crag, and the motion caught Cato’s eye. He looked up and clearly saw the first of the large rocks as it struck a projection and spun end over end until it smashed down amongst the legionaries packed in front of the barricade. More boulders tumbled down, and Cato saw several men outlined against the grey sky as they picked up fresh rocks and hurled them. Now the legionaries began to look up and realise the danger, but such was the dense press that escape was impossible.
Cato ran forward, pushing his way through the ranks of the second line as he called out hoarsely, ‘Back! Fall back!’
The rearmost men in the gorge looked round and began to edge away, easing the pressure on the men ahead of them as more rocks fell, dashing legionaries to the ground, crushing skulls and shattering bones. Ahead of them, Crispus was still urging his men forward, heedless of what was occurring behind him.
‘Fall back!’ Cato shouted again and again, raging at himself for letting his men walk into this trap. ‘Get back!’
Others began to take up his cry, and the legionaries retreated individually towards the second line, thinning out the ranks so that more of their comrades could escape the peril from above.
Cato stood against the flow of men and called out again. ‘Centurion Crispus!’
At last the officer sensed something was awry. Thrusting his shield into the face of an enemy warrior, he glanced round quickly and saw for the first time the score of men who had been pulverised by the rocks. He grasped the danger at once and turned to the legionaries still fighting along the barricade.
‘Fall back!’
One by one they disengaged and clambered back down to the ground. Away from the danger of the enemy warriors, they still had to run the gauntlet of falling rocks, and Cato saw three more men go down as Crispus waved them away from the barricade. Only when the last of them was far enough away from the cliffs to escape the danger did the centurion back away himself, keeping a wary eye on his enemy. So it was that he missed seeing the rock tumbling through the rain. Cato spotted it too late to shout a warning, and Crispus was driven to his knees by the impact that glanced off the side of his helmet before smashing through his shoulder and chest. He swayed a moment before his shield and sword slid from his grasp and he pitched forward on to his face.
CHAPTER TEN
‘The centurion’s down!’ a voice cried out. ‘Let’s get the bastards!’
‘No!’ Cato called back, then blocked the retreat of two men trying to push him aside. ‘You and you! With me. Let’s go.’
He did not give them a chance to hesitate, thrusting them towards the gorge, then increasing his pace to take the lead as he made for the stricken centurion. Some of the other legionaries were already dragging their injured comrades out of the danger zone, and on the far side of the barricade, the enemy cheered at the spectacle of the retreating Romans.
Their cries were met with a thin chorus from those on top of the crags as they ceased their attack and the last of the rocks thudded on to the ground. All the same, Cato kept his shield up as he rushed forward to Crispus and crouched down beside him. Grunting with effort, he turned the centurion over and saw the misshapen ruin of his shoulder and the deep dent in the side of his helmet. Crispus’s face was covered with mud, and Cato wiped it away as best he could.
‘I’ll cover you,’ he told the legionaries. ‘You take his arms and get him away from here.’
As soon as they moved him, Crispus let out a gasp and then howled in agony as his head lolled back.
‘Keep going!’ Cato urged as they dragged the body through the mud towards the safety of the second line of legionaries. There was a shout from the enemy as they caught sight of the officer’s crest on Cato’s helmet, and three men scrambled over the barricade, jumped down and raced towards him. He drew his sword, raised his shield and placed himself between the enemy and Crispus and the legionaries. Two of the tribesmen were armed with spears, while the third, a short distance ahead of his companions, carried a sword and round shield. Their expressions were wild, eyes glaring and lips drawn back in snarls, as if they were intoxicated. This would be a short, savage contest, Cato realised as he braced his boots in the mud and held his sword ready. The sodden ground, churned up by the nailed boots of the legionaries, slowed the enemy down as they advanced, desperate to claim the head of a Roman officer for a trophy.
Cato held his ground, determined to buy time for Crispus, and gritted his teeth as the swordsman closed in. There was no pause, no sizing up his opponent. The tribesman punched his shield into Cato’s and brought his sword round in an arc in a bid to decapitate the Roman. Cato swung his shield out and up just in time to block the edge of the sword, and it glanced over his head. He made to thrust back with his own sword, but his foot slipped and robbed his attack of any power, the blade striking a winding blow on the furs over the man’s chest.
Both men recovered their balance at the same instant and made to strike a head blow. The blades clashed sharply and held as each tried to overpower the other. One slip in the mud would be fatal, Cato realised, trying to get as much purchase as possible on the slippery ground. His features twisted into a tight grimace as he matched his strength against that of the enemy, their faces barely a foot apart. Over the man’s shoulder he could see the spearmen edging out around their comrade in order to get a clear strike at the side of the Roman officer. There was no time for a man-on-man duel. Cato abruptly angled his sword to let the warrior’s blade slide sharply towards his shoulder, trusting to the armour to protect him. As soon as his own sword was free, he raised his right arm and hammered the butt of the handle down on his opponent’s head with a sharp crack. At the same moment, the edge of the warrior’s sword struck a numbing blow to Cato’s shoulder. The tribesman staggered back, blundering into the nearest of the spearmen so that he slipped in the mud and had to thrust his weapon into the ground to steady his balance. The swordsman fell, arms outstretched, knocking his comrade to his knees as he did so.